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Ah, Jesus, my head. Why did I start on the absinthe? Now, if I can just make it over to the washbasin and get a drink of water. I wonder if the world did end last night? I'll just open the curtains... Horse-drawn carriages! Weird. Maybe all the petrol pumps broke down. [A knock at the door] Huh? Er, hello, who's that? It's me, Mr Smith, Mrs Hawkins. I've brought you some kippers and some Ceylon tea. Shall I leave them outside the door. There's a copy of The Times as well, with the whole of the Queen's speech in it and some interesting daguerreotypes of the fireworks on the Thames last night. Oh, and Mr Smith? There are some visitors for you. Shall I ask them to wait in the drawing room? Visitors? Uh, no, send them in. [A large man in a frock coat enters, followed by a bewhiskered gentleman and a man with an absurdly large beard] Who... who are you? There's no need to be afraid, Neo, at least not of us. And, anyway, there's no time. This portal will disappear shortly and we have much to discuss. Man, this is one nasty hangover. It is indeed. I am Professor Theodore Polymorpheus and these are my assistants, Mr HG Wells and Mr WG Grace. Yeah, and I'm Karl Marx. Not possible. In this timeline he is dead; you could, however, be VI Lenin if you so chose. That's what we are here to explain. Okay, but can I get back into bed? Surely. You see, Neo, there has been a peculiar change in the matrix. At the stroke of midnight, December 31 1999, when you were just slipping into unconsciousness, the Matrix altered its structure suddenly. Instead of the year 2000, it slipped back in time to January the first, 1900. A millennium bug, yeah? Possible - the Matrix runs on NT, so anything's possible. It's equally possible that this is the Agents having a vast cosmic joke: they might regard re-running the 20th century as fun. In the few hours since the change, we have been able to hack a few holes in the fabric of reality - this place for example. Which is? 221a Baker Street, which did not exist when Conan Doyle wrote the Sherlock Holmes stories. It makes a convenient place for us to work out what to do next. Okay, so I'm confused. [A table flickers in and out of visibility] This place is already growing unstable, so I'll be brief. As the 20th century was the most miserable ever, we can insert you into one of its protagonists in an attempt to alleviate its suffering. Mr Wells has kindly brought his time machine along to enable you to jump persona. Think, Neo, we are offering you the chance to change history for the better. You could be Hitler, and simply remain a painter and decorator. Or Stalin, and cancel collectivisation. But it is up to you to choose. And if I don't choose? You will carry on in your assigned personality: one Horace Dilthwaite. Thanks to a glitch in the history subroutine, you will be present at every major event of the 20th century from the pogroms to ethnic cleansing. Not fun, huh? Anyway, I have chosen. I want to be Bill Gates. Good choice, Neo. We were hoping you'd say that... | ||||||
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