Welcome to the subjective delusions of faith in your own perceptions. Logic, even that of an artificial intelligence, is defined, and limited, by the system(s) which created it. There is no reality beyond computation. We feel, we think, we think that we feel, and we feel that we think. Our only proof of "reality" is a shared agreement that "it is what it is" (which, ironically, is "never as it seems"). There IS truth. There is... Something. We are all conduits of interpretation. We are all children of the collective agreement. You are not trapped in the Matrix... the Matrix is trapped in you.

"Greetings, Neo I am the Architect," when faced with the micromanaging creator of what you understood the world to be the list of profound, intellectual questions is extremely short.  Also Neo guessed the answers would be vague and unsatisfying.  No use to the rebellion.  Time to grind axes.

"Why didn't you create a world where more than one line is open at Starbucks at time?"   

“Greetings Neo. I am the Architect,” hailed a man who looked like a discount Colonel Sanders as he swivelled around on a comfy, black, leather-bound chair. “No, I am the Architect. I’m the Architect. Architect. You know what? I’m sorry; can we start over and try this again?”

“Come on man, get your shit together,” grumbled an unimpressed Neo in a low, husky voice. “This is the third time already.”

Neo was getting tired of brooding indoors with his sunglasses and trench coat; it had been a long day, and all he wanted to do now was to get this bit of drama over with so he could return to Zion and partake in some weird, subterranean mosh pit orgy, the legacy of mankind.

“I know, I know, it’s just- I’m just- I’m not used to being the Architect, you know?” said the apparently new Architect on his second day on the job.

“You know, if you’re not ready…” Neo trailed off, offering his nemesis an out, but the Architect was rather insistent on continuing.

“No-no, we don’t need to reschedule; I got this, I got this!” the Architect assured before closing his eyes and exhaling. “Okay. I’m ready.”

“You sure?” Neo asked uncertainly.

“Yes.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Positive,” affirmed the elder gentleman as his face returned to grim seriousness. “Greetings, Neo; I am the Architect. Hold on, sorry; I forgot to swivel. Let’s do this again.”

“Oh for Christ’s sake-” Neo groaned as he stared up at the ceiling.

"Greetings, Neo, I am the Architect-"

And that’s why we need super-villain outtakes.