Used to be so simple in the old days... A simple choice of red or blue. Yet, in this setting, in this locale, I find myself operating more and more like some digital facsimile of Morpheus; a capacity which, needless to say, I have no desire nor compunction to exist within
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What'll it be, Commander? GI Joe on the barbecue? Perhaps your brilliance can't even be contained within the average cranium... Ever thought about a shiny new helmet?
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[WAIT! HE'S BEING MADE FUN OF!]
Everything you said could easily have been gleaned from my file. I sincerely doubt Harper's ability to keep it confidential.
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But perhaps you should wait until Spiderman joins us or maybe the Incredible Hulk. We can hold a party when Dracula stops by and invites Mary Poppins along for tea.
Puzzle fitting together yet, Commander? Or maybe Doctor Mindbender can enlighten us on which educational faculty accepted him without questioning the name...
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All just part of the system, all facets of the necessary controls.
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The underlying concept of the Matrix as a system is thermodynamically unsound. The energy you'd need to artificially conceive and raise billions of humans, while immersing them all in a massive near-flawless simulation, outstrips by far the amount of energy those humans could possibly produce. Even if the machines had mastered a level of efficiency that allowed them to break even, or even profit slightly in terms of input:output, the question remains: why bother?
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Your awareness of - and familiarity with - it, however, does grant me a measure of relief...
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'A measure of relief'. On what grounds?
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Belief is what keeps you here. An illusion of self-determination, which ultimately becomes the very reason for your confinement.
You imprison yourself.
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