• Would you choose the blue pill or the red one?
• I suspect the red pill doesn't exist.

• How so? Don't you want to step outside the room?
• To end up in another room? It seems to me there's an infinite number of rooms, and none of them is the “right” one. What's more, rightness itself doesn't exist.

• Then what does exist?
• The room we're in right now. No one's stopping you from leaving it for another room, where they serve coffee instead of tea.

• And why are we in this particular room and not another?
• I don't know — we were probably born into this room; someone else was born into another room, where the same thing is being asked. Maybe in that room they'd like tea to be served, and coffee is served instead.

• So in every room there are the discontented?
• Probably discontent is a structure, or a law of existence.

• So there's some law operating in all the rooms, and knowing this law is the red pill!
• It seems the striving to prove the red pill exists is the very thing that unites everyone in all the rooms. Of course, we can't prove it anyway, but in our room it's so, and in the next one it's the same — I've been there.

• Then you have to keep trying blue pills until you find the red one?
• A lifetime won't be enough. It's easier to paint a blue pill red.

• But that would be a deception.
• I don't know, it seems it's always worked. The point isn't to find the red pill, but to understand that the pill you take every morning is simply painted. That's already enough.