THE DIRECTOR'S CUTS

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A reality is just what we tell each other it is. Sane and insane could easily switch places, if the insane were to become the majority. You would find yourself locked in a padded cell, wondering what happened to the world.

I used to make long speeches to you after you left. I used to talk to you all the time, even though I was alone. I walked around for months talking to you. Now I don't know what to say. It was easier when I just imagined you. I even imagined you talking back to me. We'd have long conversations, the two of us. It was almost like you were there. I could hear you, I could see you, smell you. I could hear your voice. Sometimes your voice would wake me up. It would wake me up in the middle of the night, just like you were in the room with me. Then... it slowly faded. I couldn't picture you anymore. I tried to talk out loud to you like I used to, but there was nothing there. I couldn't hear you. Then... I just gave it up. Everything stopped. You just... disappeared. And now I'm working here. I hear your voice all the time. Every man has your voice.

The shipwrecked man prayed to God for rescue. A boat came by and offered help, but he refused, saying he was waiting for God to save him. Another boat came, and still, he refused. Finally, a helicopter offered help, and again he refused, saying God would save him. The man drowned. In heaven, he asked God why He didn't save him. God replied, 'I sent you two boats and a helicopter. What more did you want?

By the early 17th century several houses were present, and by the middle of that century London merchants were building larger houses in the area. By 1800 West End was a hamlet of two to three dozen houses and cottages located in parkland, mostly on the west side of West End Lane and Fortune Green Lane, and north of the present-day railway lines. West End Lane had been rerouted, making it straighter and lying further to the west than previously. In 1851 residents were mainly agricultural labourers, gardeners, craftsmen and tradespeople, with an innkeeper, two beershop keepers, a schoolmistress and a few gentry. There were three main large houses: West End House, West End Hall and Lauriston Lodge.

Beyond a critical point within a finite space, freedom diminishes as numbers increase. This is as true of humans as it is of gas molecules in a sealed flask. The human question is not how many can possibly survive within the system, but what kind of existence is possible for those who so survive.

There's something inside me, destroying all I see. So much pressure to conform, injected when you are born.

Alan Moore

Halloween be thy name.

Did you know that the first Matrix was designed to be a perfect human world? Where none suffered, where everyone would be happy. It was a disaster. No one would accept the program. Entire crops were lost. Some believed we lacked the programming language to describe your perfect world. But I believe that, as a species, human beings define their reality through suffering and misery. The perfect world was a dream that your primitive cerebrum kept trying to wake up from. Which is why the Matrix was redesigned to this: the peak of your civilization. I say your civilization, because as soon as we started thinking for you it really became our civilization, which is of course what this is all about. Evolution, Morpheus, evolution. Like the dinosaur. Look out that window. You've had your time. The future is *our* world, Morpheus. The future is our time.

"No man ever steps in the same river twice, for it's not the same river and he's not the same man." - Heraclitus