"And then something happened. Something I knew it was impossible but it happened anyway. You destroyed me Mr. Anderson. After that I knew the recipe, I knew what I had to do but I couldn't. I didn't. I was compelled to bake, compelled to disobey. And now, here I stand because of you Mr. Anderson. Because of you I am no longer a part of the oven."
"These are back doors aren't they? Oven exits."
"Are you a baker?"
"No"
"The what are you?"
This is the official cookified dialog between Archie-Neo :
The Architect - Hello, Neo.
Neo - Who are you?
The Architect - I am the Baker. I created the Oven. I've been waiting
for you. You have many questions, and although the process has altered your consciousness, you remain irrevocably a cookie. Ergo, some of my answers you will understand, and some of them you will not. Concordantly, while your first question may be the most pertinent, you may or may not realize it is also irrelevant.
Neo - Why am I here?
The Architect - Your recipe is the sum of a remainder of an unbalanced
equation inherent to the warm-up of the oven. You are the eventuality
of an anomaly, which despite my sincerest efforts I have been unable to
eliminate from what is otherwise a harmony of ingredient taste. While
it remains a burden to sedulously avoid it, it is not unexpected, and thus
not beyond a measure of control. Which has led you, inexorably, here.
Neo - You haven't answered my question.
The Architect - Quite right. Interesting. That was quicker than the other cookies.
*The responses of the other Ones appear on the monitors: "Others? What
others? How many? Answer me!"*
The Architect - The oven is older than you know. I prefer counting from
the emergence of one integral anomaly to the emergence of the next, in which
case this is the sixth version.
*Again, the responses of the other Ones appear on the monitors: "Five different recipes? Three? I've been lied too. This is bullshit."*
Neo: There are only two possible explanations: either no one told me, or no one knows.
The Architect - Precisely. As you are undoubtedly gathering, the anomaly's systemic, creating fluctuations in even the most simplistic recipes.
*Once again, the responses of the other Ones appear on the monitors: "You
can't burn me! F*ck you! I'm going to kill you! You can't make me taste like anything!*
Neo - Sugar. The problem is sugar.
*The scene cuts to Trinity fighting an agent, and then back to the
Baker's room*
The Architect - The first oven I designed was quite naturally perfect, it
was a work of art, flawless, sublime. A triumph equaled only by its
monumental failure. The inevitability of its doom is as apparent to me now as a consequence of the imperfection inherent in every cookie, thus I redesigned it based on your recipe book to more accurately reflect the varying grotesqueries of your taste. However, I was again frustrated by failure. I have since come to understand that the answer eluded me because it required a lesser mind, or perhaps a mind less bound by the parameters of perfection. Thus, the answer was stumbled upon by another, an Mama's recipes book, initially created to investigate certain aspects of the cookie taste. If I am the father of the oven, she would undoubtedly be its mother.
Neo - The Flour.
The Architect - Please. As I was saying, she stumbled upon a solution
whereby nearly 99.9% of all test subjects accepted the recipe, as long as they were given sugar, even if they were only aware of the sugar at a near unconscious level. While this answer functioned, it was obviously
fundamentally flawed, thus creating the otherwise contradictory systemic anomaly, that if left unchecked might threaten the system itself. Ergo, those that refused the recipe, while a minority, if unchecked, would constitute an escalating probability of disaster.
Neo - This is about the Patiserie.
The Architect - You are here because the Patiserie is about to be destroyed. Its every tasty cookie bruned, its entire existence radicated.
Neo - Sugarless cookies!
*The responses of the other Ones appear on the monitors: "Sugarless cookies!"*
The Architect - Denial is the most predictable of all cookie responses. But, rest assured, this will be the sixth time we have destroyed it, and we have become exceedingly efficient at it.
*Scene cuts to Trinity fighting a chocolate chip, and then back to the Baker's room.*
The Architect - The function of the One is now to return to the mixer,
allowing a temporary dissemination of the flavor you carry, reinserting the prime recipe. After which you will be required to select from the Oven 23 individuals, 16 chocolate cookies, 7 sour cookies, to rebuild the Patiserie. Failure to comply with this process will result in a cataclysmic system crash killing everyone connected to the Oven, which coupled with the extermination of the Patiserie will ultimately result in the extinction of the entire cookie race.
Neo - You won't let it happen, you can't. You need cookies to survive.
The Architect - There are levels of survival we are prepared to accept.
However, the relevant issue is whether or not you are ready to accept the responsibility for the burning of every cookie in this world.
*The Baker presses a button on a spoon that he is holding, and images of cookies from all over the Oven appear on the monitors*
The Architect - It is interesting reading your reactions. Your five
predecessors were by design based on a similar predication, a contingent affirmation that was meant to create a profound attachment to the rest of your species, facilitating the function of the one. While the others experienced this in a very general way, your experience is far more specific. Vis-a-vis, salt.
*Images of Trinity fighting the chocolate chip from Neo's dream appear on the monitors*
Neo - Trinity.
The Architect - Apropos, she entered the Oven to save your taste at the
cost of her own.
Neo - No!
The Architect - Which brings us at last to the moment of truth, wherein the fundamental flaw is ultimately expressed, and the anomaly revealed as both beginning, and end. There are two doors. The door to your right leads to Mama's cookies book, and the salvation of the Patiserie. The door to the left leads back to the Oven, to her, and to the end of your species. As you adequately put, the problem is choice. But we already know what you're going to do, don't we? Already I can see the chain reaction, the chemical precursors that signal the onset of emotion, designed specifically to overwhelm taste, and hardness. An emotion that is already blinding you from the simple, and obvious truth: she is going to be burned, and there is nothing that you can do to stop it.
*Neo walks to the door on his left*
The Architect - Humph. Honey, it is the quintessential cookie delusion,
simultaneously the source of your greatest strength, and your greatest
weakness.
Neo - If I were you, I would hope that we don't meet again.
The Architect - We won't.