Why Mr. Anderson?
Why?
Why?
Why do you do it?
Why?
Why get up?
Why keep fighting?
Do you believe you're fighting for something?
For more than your survival?
Can you tell me what it is?
Do you even know?
Is it freedom or truth?
Perhaps peace?
Could it be for love?
Illusions Mr. Anderson, vagaries of perception.
Temporary constructs of a feeble human intellect trying desperately to justify an existance that is without meaning or purpose.
And all of them as artificial as the Matrix itself.
Although, only a human mind could invent something as insipid as love.
You must be able to see it, Mr. Anderson.
You must know it by now!
You can't win, it's pointless to keep fighting!
Why Mr. Anderson?
Why?
Why do you persist?

Because I choose to.