150683ab8156bdc78ebd23a2ed7f7e265b780bd0
movie
http://www.imsdb.com/scripts/Brazil.html
Brazil - the
. THE END
 Sam Lowry (Jonathan Pryce) is a low-level government employee who frequently daydreams of saving a damsel in distress. When a fly gets jammed in a printer and results in the incarceration and accidental death during interrogation of cobbler Archibald Buttle â instead of renegade air conditioning specialist and suspected terrorist Archibald Tuttle â Sam is assigned the task of rectifying the error. Visiting Buttle's widow, Sam encounters their neighbour Jill Layton (Kim Greist), and is astonished to see that she resembles the woman from his recurring dreams. Jill is trying to help Mrs. Buttle determine what happened to her husband, but her efforts are obstructed by bureaucracy. Unknown to her, she is now considered a terrorist accomplice of Tuttle for attempting to report the mistake of Buttle's arrest to a government which would rather dispose of all evidence and witnesses than admit its error. Sam approaches Jill, but she avoids giving him full details, worried the government will track her down.
During this time, Sam comes in contact with Tuttle (Robert De Niro), who once worked for Central Services but left due to his dislike of the tedious and repetitive paperwork. Tuttle helps Sam deal with two Central Services workers, Spoor (Bob Hoskins) and Dowser (Derrick O'Connor), who later return to demolish Sam's ducts and seize his apartment under the guise of fixing the air conditioning. Sam discovers that the only way to learn about Jill is to get transferred to Information Retrieval, where he can access her classified records. He had previously turned down a promotion arranged by his mother, Ida (Katherine Helmond), who is obsessed with the rejuvenating plastic surgery of cosmetic surgeon Dr. Jaffe (Jim Broadbent). Sam retracts his refusal by speaking with Deputy Minister Mr. Helpmann (Peter Vaughan) at a party hosted by Ida. Obtaining Jill's records, Sam tracks her down before she can be arrested, then falsifies the records to fake her death, allowing her to escape pursuit. The two share a romantic night together, but are soon apprehended by the government at gunpoint. Charged with treason for abusing his new position, Sam is restrained to a chair in a large, empty cylindrical room (the interior of a power station cooling tower), to be tortured by his old friend, Jack Lint (Michael Palin). Sam learns that Jill was killed while resisting arrest.
When Jack is about to start the torturing, Tuttle and other members of the resistance break into the Ministry, shooting Jack, rescuing Sam, and blowing up the Ministry building. Sam and Tuttle flee together, but Tuttle disappears amid a mass of scraps of paperwork from the destroyed building. Sam stumbles into the funeral for Ida's friend, who died following excessive cosmetic surgery; finding Ida resembling Jill and being fawned over by young men, Sam falls into the open casket and through a black void. He lands in a street from his daydreams, and attempts to escape police and monsters by climbing a pile of flex-ducts. Opening a door, he passes through it and is surprised to find himself in a trailer driven by Jill. The two leave the city together. However, this "happy ending" is a product of Sam's delusions: he is still strapped to the chair. Realising that Sam has descended into blissful insanity, Jack and Mr. Helpmann declare him a lost cause and leave the room. Sam remains in the chair, smiling and singing "Brazil".
Sam Lowry ( Jonathan Pryce ) is a low-level government employee who frequently daydreams of saving a damsel in distress . When a fly gets jammed in a printer and results in the incarceration and accidental death during interrogation of cobbler Archibald Buttle â instead of renegade air conditioning specialist and suspected terrorist Archibald Tuttle â Sam is assigned the task of rectifying the error . Visiting Buttle s widow , Sam encounters their neighbour Jill Layton ( Kim Greist ) , and is astonished to see that she resembles the woman from his recurring dreams . Jill is trying to help Mrs. Buttle determine what happened to her husband , but her efforts are obstructed by bureaucracy . Unknown to her , she is now considered a terrorist accomplice of Tuttle for attempting to report the mistake of Buttle s arrest to a government which would rather dispose of all evidence and witnesses than admit its error . Sam approaches Jill , but she avoids giving him full details , worried the government will track her down . During this time , Sam comes in contact with Tuttle ( Robert De Niro ) , who once worked for Central Services but left due to his dislike of the tedious and repetitive paperwork . Tuttle helps Sam deal with two Central Services workers , Spoor ( Bob Hoskins ) and Dowser ( Derrick O'Connor ) , who later return to demolish Sam s ducts and seize his apartment under the guise of fixing the air conditioning . Sam discovers that the only way to learn about Jill is to get transferred to Information Retrieval , where he can access her classified records . He had previously turned down a promotion arranged by his mother , Ida ( Katherine Helmond ) , who is obsessed with the rejuvenating plastic surgery of cosmetic surgeon Dr. Jaffe ( Jim Broadbent ) . Sam retracts his refusal by speaking with Deputy Minister Mr. Helpmann ( Peter Vaughan ) at a party hosted by Ida . Obtaining Jill s records , Sam tracks her down before she can be arrested , then falsifies the records to fake her death , allowing her to escape pursuit . The two share a romantic night together , but are soon apprehended by the government at gunpoint . Charged with treason for abusing his new position , Sam is restrained to a chair in a large , empty cylindrical room ( the interior of a power station cooling tower ) , to be tortured by his old friend , Jack Lint ( Michael Palin ) . Sam learns that Jill was killed while resisting arrest . When Jack is about to start the torturing , Tuttle and other members of the resistance break into the Ministry , shooting Jack , rescuing Sam , and blowing up the Ministry building . Sam and Tuttle flee together , but Tuttle disappears amid a mass of scraps of paperwork from the destroyed building . Sam stumbles into the funeral for Ida s friend , who died following excessive cosmetic surgery ; finding Ida resembling Jill and being fawned over by young men , Sam falls into the open casket and through a black void . He lands in a street from his daydreams , and attempts to escape police and monsters by climbing a pile of flex-ducts . Opening a door , he passes through it and is surprised to find himself in a trailer driven by Jill . The two leave the city together . However , this happy ending is a product of Sam s delusions : he is still strapped to the chair . Realising that Sam has descended into blissful insanity , Jack and Mr. Helpmann declare him a lost cause and leave the room . Sam remains in the chair , smiling and singing Brazil .
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Brazil_(1985_film)
Brazil (1985 film)
<html>
<head><title>Brazil Script at IMSDb.</title>
<meta name="description" content="Brazil script at the Internet Movie Script Database.">
<meta name="keywords" content="Brazil script, Brazil movie script, Brazil film script">
<meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width, initial-scale=1" />
<meta name="HandheldFriendly" content="true">
<meta http-equiv="content-type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1">
<meta http-equiv="Content-Language" content="EN">

<meta name=objecttype CONTENT=Document>
<meta name=ROBOTS CONTENT="INDEX, FOLLOW">
<meta name=Subject CONTENT="Movie scripts, Film scripts">
<meta name=rating CONTENT=General>
<meta name=distribution content=Global>
<meta name=revisit-after CONTENT="2 days">

<link href="/style.css" rel="stylesheet" type="text/css">

<script type="text/javascript">
  var _gaq = _gaq || [];
  _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']);
  _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']);

  (function() {
    var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true;
    ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js';
    var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s);
  })();
</script>

</head>

<body topmargin="0" bottommargin="0" id="mainbody">

<table width="99%" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" class="body">
  <tr> 
    <td valign="bottom" bgcolor="#FF0000"><a href="https://www.imsdb.com" title="The Internet Movie Script Database"><img src="/images/logo_top.gif" border="0"></a></td>
    <td bgcolor="#FF0000">
	<center>
	    <font color="#FFFFFF"><h1>The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb)</h1></font>
</center>
  <tr> 
    <td background="/images/reel.gif" height="13" colspan="2"><a href="https://www.imsdb.com" title="The Internet Movie Script Database"><img src="/images/logo_middle.gif" border="0"></a></td>
  <tr> 
    <td width="170" valign="top" class="smalltxt"> <a href="https://www.imsdb.com" title="The Internet Movie Script Database"><img src="/images/logo_bottom.gif" width="170" border="0"></a> 
      <br>
	<center><span class="smalltxt">The web's largest <br>movie script resource!</span></center>
	</td>
    <td>	
    <script type="text/javascript"><!--
	 e9 = new Object();
     e9.size = "728x90";
     //--></script>
    <script type="text/javascript" src="//tags.expo9.exponential.com/tags/IMSDb/ROS/tags.js"></script>
   </td>
  </tr>
</table>


<br>
<table width="99%" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" class="body">
  <tr> 
   
    <td width="180" valign="top">

<table class=body border=0 cellspacing=0 cellpadding=2 width="100%">
<tr> 
          <td colspan="2" class=heading>Search IMSDb<tr>
<form method="post" action="/search.php">
            <td width="180"> <div align="center">
                <input type="text" name="search_query" maxlength="255" size="15">
                <input type="submit" value="Go!" name="submit">
              </div></td>
</form>
</table>

<br>
<table width="100%" border=0 cellpadding=2 cellspacing=0 class=body>
<tr>
<td colspan=9 class=heading>Alphabetical
<tr align="center">
        <td><a href="/alphabetical/0">#</a> 
        <td><a href="/alphabetical/A">A</a>
        <td><a href="/alphabetical/B">B</a>
        <td><a href="/alphabetical/C">C</a>
        <td><a href="/alphabetical/D">D</a>
        <td><a href="/alphabetical/E">E</a>
        <td><a href="/alphabetical/F">F</a>
        <td><a href="/alphabetical/G">G</a>
        <td><a href="/alphabetical/H">H</a><tr align="center"> 
        <td><a href="/alphabetical/I">I</a>
        <td><a href="/alphabetical/J">J</a>
        <td><a href="/alphabetical/K">K</a>
        <td><a href="/alphabetical/L">L</a>
        <td><a href="/alphabetical/M">M</a>
        <td><a href="/alphabetical/N">N</a>
        <td><a href="/alphabetical/O">O</a>
        <td><a href="/alphabetical/P">P</a>
        <td><a href="/alphabetical/Q">Q</a><tr align="center"> 
        <td><a href="/alphabetical/R">R</a>
        <td><a href="/alphabetical/S">S</a>
        <td><a href="/alphabetical/T">T</a>
        <td><a href="/alphabetical/U">U</a>
        <td><a href="/alphabetical/V">V</a>
        <td><a href="/alphabetical/W">W</a>
        <td><a href="/alphabetical/X">X</a>
        <td><a href="/alphabetical/Y">Y</a>
        <td><a href="/alphabetical/Z">Z</a>
</table>
<br>
<table width="100%" border=0 cellpadding=2 cellspacing=0 class=body>
<tr>
<td colspan=3 class=heading>Genre
<tr> 
	<td><a href="/genre/Action">Action</a>
	<td><a href="/genre/Adventure">Adventure</a>
	<td><a href="/genre/Animation">Animation</a><tr>
	<td><a href="/genre/Comedy">Comedy</a>
	<td><a href="/genre/Crime">Crime</a>
	<td><a href="/genre/Drama">Drama</a><tr>
	<td><a href="/genre/Family">Family</a>
	<td><a href="/genre/Fantasy">Fantasy</a>
	<td><a href="/genre/Film-Noir">Film-Noir</a><tr>
	<td><a href="/genre/Horror">Horror</a>
	<td><a href="/genre/Musical">Musical</a>
	<td><a href="/genre/Mystery">Mystery</a><tr>
	<td><a href="/genre/Romance">Romance</a>
	<td><a href="/genre/Sci-Fi">Sci-Fi</a>
	<td><a href="/genre/Short">Short</a><tr>
	<td><a href="/genre/Thriller">Thriller</a>
	<td><a href="/genre/War">War</a>
	<td><a href="/genre/Western">Western</a>
</table>

<br>
<table class=body border=0 cellspacing=0 cellpadding=2 width="100%">
<tr> 
 <td colspan="2" class=heading>Sponsor<tr>
 <td width="300" bgcolor="#FFFFFF">
 <script type="text/javascript"><!--
	e9 = new Object();
    e9.size = "300x250";
 //--></script>
 <script type="text/javascript" src="//tags.expo9.exponential.com/tags/IMSDb/ROS/tags.js"></script>
 </td>
</table>


<br>
<table width="100%" border=0 cellpadding=2 cellspacing=0 class=body>
<tr>
<td class=heading>TV Transcripts
<tr> 
	<td><a href="/TV/Futurama.html">Futurama</a><tr>
	<td><a href="/TV/Seinfeld.html">Seinfeld</a><tr>
	<td><a href="/TV/South Park.html">South Park</a><tr>
	<td><a href="/TV/Stargate SG1.html">Stargate SG-1</a><tr>
	<td><a href="/TV/Lost.html">Lost</a><tr>
	<td><a href="/TV/The 4400.html">The 4400</a>
</table>

<br>
<table width="100%" class="body">
<tr>
<td colspan=3 class=heading>International
<tr> 
	<td><a href="/language/French">French scripts</a>
</table>

<br>
<table width="100%" border=0 cellpadding=2 cellspacing=0 class=body>
<tr>
<td class=heading>Movie Software
<tr>
    <td><a href="/out/dvd-ripper"><img src="/images/a/dvd-ripper.jpg" alt="DVD ripper software offer"></a>
<tr>
	<td><a href="/software/rip-from-dvd">Rip from DVD</a>
<tr>
	<td><a href="/software/rip-blu-ray">Rip Blu-Ray</a>
</table>

<br>
<table width="100%" border=0 cellpadding=2 cellspacing=0 class=body>
<tr>
<td colspan=3 class=heading>Latest Comments
<tr>
<td><a href="/Movie Scripts/Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith Script.html">Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith<td>10/10<tr>
<td><a href="/Movie Scripts/Star Wars: The Force Awakens Script.html">Star Wars: The Force Awakens<td>10/10<tr>
<td><a href="/Movie Scripts/Batman Begins Script.html">Batman Begins<td>9/10<tr>
<td><a href="/Movie Scripts/Collateral Script.html">Collateral<td>10/10<tr>
<td><a href="/Movie Scripts/Jackie Brown Script.html">Jackie Brown<td>8/10<tr>
</table>
<br>

<table width="100%" border=0 cellpadding=2 cellspacing=0 class=body>
<tr>
<td class=heading>Movie Chat
<tr> 
<td align="center">
<SCRIPT LANGUAGE="Javascript" TYPE="text/javascript" SRC="https://www.yellbox.com/ybscript_enhanced.js"></SCRIPT>
<iframe class="yellbox" frameborder=0 name="ybframe" height=170 marginwidth=0 marginheight=0 src="https://www.yellbox.com/yellbox.php?name=imsdb">
</iframe>
<form class="yellbox" action="https://www.yellbox.com/addmessage.php" method="post" target="ybframe" name="yellform"> 
 <input type="hidden" name="sub_username" value="imsdb">
 <input class="yellbox" name="sub_name" value="Name" size=21 maxlength=10 onFocus="if(this.value == 'Name')this.value = ''; return;"><br>
 <textarea class="yellbox" cols=15 rows=4 name="sub_message" wrap onFocus="if(this.value == 'Message')this.value = ''; return;">Message</textarea>
 <table><tr><td>
 <button onClick="javascript:makeNewWindow(); return false;"><img src="https://www.yellbox.com/images/smiley.gif" width=16 height=16></button>
 <td><button type="submit" value="Post" onClick="return clearMessageBox();">Yell !</button></table>
</form> 
</table>


<div align="center"><br><br>
      <a href="https://www.imsdb.com/all%20scripts">ALL SCRIPTS</a><br><br>
</div>

<td width="10"></td>
<td valign="top">
<br> <table width="100%"><tr><td class="scrtext">

<pre><html>
<head>
<TITLE>Brazil - the screenplay</TITLE>
<b></HEAD>
</b><b><BODY>
</b><b><PRE>
</b>

                            <STRONG>Brazil
                      Screenplay (Draft)</STRONG>




<b> 
</b>
<b>1   EXT.   CITYSCAPE                         SUNSET           1
</b>
    A beautiful golden sun is setting. The sky is on fire. The
    CAMERA starts to move downwards. A large neon sign rises
    into shot. It rests on top of a skyscraper and fills the
    frame. The building is neither past nor future in design
    but a bit of both.
<b>    
</b>    Slowly we pan downwards revealing the city that spreads
    below ... A glittering conglomeration of elevated
    transport tubes, smaller square buildings which are merely
    huge, with, here and there, the comparatively minuscule
    relics of previous ages of architecture, pavement level
    awnings suggesting restaurants and shops ... Transparent
    tubes carry whizzing transport cages past us ... an
    elevated highway carrying traffic composed primarily of
    large transport lorries passes thru frame. As we descend,
    the sunlight is blocked out and street lights & neon signs
    take over as illumination. Eventually we reach the upper
    levels of a plush shopping precinct.

<b>2   INT.   SHOPPING PRECINT                  NIGHT            2
</b><b>    
</b>    Xmas decorations are everywhere. PEOPLE are busy buying,
    ogling, discussing, choosing wisely from the goodies on
    display. SHOPPERS are going by laden with superbly
    packaged goods ... the shop windows are full of
    elaborately boxed and be-ribboned who-knows-what. In one
    window is a bank of TV sets - on the great majority of the
    screens is the face of MR. HELPMANN - the Deputy Minister
    of Information. He is being interviewed. No-one bothers to
    listen to HELPMANN.

<b>                          INTERVIEWER
</b>               Deputy minister, what do you believe
               is behind this recent increase in
               terrorist bombings?

<b>                           HELPMANN
</b>               Bad sportsmanship. A ruthless
               minority of people seems to have
               forgotten certain good old fashioned
               virtues. They just can't stand seeing
               the other fellow win. If these people
               would just play the game, instead of
               standing on the touch line heckling -

<b>                          INTERVIEWER
</b>               In fact, killing people -

<b>                           HELPMANN
</b>               - In fact, killing people - they'd
               get a lot more out of life.

    We PULL AWAY from the shop to concentrate on the shoppers.
    HELPMANN's voice carries over the rest of the scene.

<b>                          INTERVIEWER
</b>               Mr. HELPMANN, what would you say to
               those critics who maintain that the
               Ministry Of Information has become
               too large and unwieldy ...?

<b>                           HELPMANN
</b>               David ... in a free society
               information is the name of the game.
               You can't win the game if you're a
               man short.

    Fur bedecked shoppers pass in front of what appears to be
    banks of snow but as we pan along with them the "snow"
    turns out to be fire-fighting foam. It oozes out of a shop
    front that is a charred twisted mass of metal frames.
    WORKMEN are busily sealing the opening with plywood
    sheets, SHOPPERS pay no attention to this. Xmas carols are
    being played by a Salvation Army style band calling
    themselves Consumers For Christ. Santa Claus's grotto is
    busy, all is well with the world.

<b>                          INTERVIEWER
</b>               And the cost of it all, Deputy
               Minister? Seven percent of the gross
               national produce ...

<b>                           HELPMANN
</b>               I understand this concern on behalf
               of the tax-payers. People want value
               for money and a cost-effective
               service.

<b>3   INT.   OFFICE                            NIGHT            3
</b>
    CUT TO TV screen with HELPMANN still talking.

<b>                           HELPMANN
</b>               That is why we always insist on the
               principle of Information Retrieval
               Charges. These terrorists are not
               pulling their weight, and it's
               absolutely right and fair that those
               found guilty should pay for their
               periods of detention and the
               Information Retrieval Procedures used
               in their interrogation.

    PULL BACK to reveal a rather clinical office. The TV rests
    on a desk. A WHITE COATED TECHNICIAN is sorting out his in-
    tray. Several Christmas cards are amongst he paperwork. He
    comes upon a Christmassy package which he rips open, to
    discover a shiny, metal "executive toy".

    CUT TO the BEETLE droning up near the ceiling.

    The TECHNICIAN is disturbed by the buzz of the BEETLE as
    it whirrs around the fluorescent light. He rolls up some
    paper and forms and gets up to swat the insect.

Scenes 4-12 Deleted.                              4-12 Deleted.

<b>13  INT.   OFFICE                            NIGHT           13
</b><b>    
</b>    The TECHNICIAN gets up and balances a chair on top of his
    desk. He climbs up onto it attempting to swat the BEETLE
    still buzzing about the room just out of reach. Beneath
    him an automatic type-writing machine rattles away
    compiling a typed list of names under the heading
    "Information Retrieval, Subjects For Detention &
    Interview". The machine is being fed from a spool of paper
    which is being rhythmically chopped by an automatic
    guillotine which neatly leaves each name on a separate
    sheet, with the title above each name, each sheet
    following its predecessor into a holding basket. In CLOSE-
    UP we see the names on the sheets of paper building up in
    the holding basket: TONSTED, Simon ... TOPPER, Martin F.
    ... TROLLOPE, Benjamin G. ... TURB, William K. ... TURNER,
    John D. ... Every name begins with T.

<b>                          INTERVIEWER
</b>               Do you think that the government is
               winning the battle against
               terrorists?

<b>                           HELPMANN
</b>               On yes. Our morale is much higher
               than theirs, we're fielding all their
               strokes, running a lot of them out,
               and pretty consistently knocking them
               for six. I'd say they're nearly out
               of the game.
<b>               
</b>    The TECHNICIAN is tottering on one leg on the chair on the
    desk as he strains to swat the BEETLE. Swish, swash, oops,
    WHAP! Gottcha!!

<b>                          INTERVIEWER
</b>               But the bombing campaign is now in
               its thirteenth year ...

<b>                           HELPMANN
</b>               Beginner's luck.

    The BEETLE's career comes to a halt ... squashed flat on
    the brilliantly clean ceiling ... or has it? As the
    TECHNICIAN clambers down from the rickety heights, the
    BEETLE's carcass comes unstuck from the ceiling and drops
    silently into the typewriting machine which hiccoughs,
    hesitates and then types the letter "B" and hesitates and
    then continues so that the next name is BUTTLE, Archibald.

    The TECHNICIAN fails to notice this and the machine
    continues smoothly TUTWOOD, Thomas T. ... TUZCZLOW,
    Peter...

<b>                          INTERVIEWER
</b>               Thank you very much, Deputy Minister.

<b>                           HELPMANN
</b>               Thank you, David ... and a very merry
               Christmas to you all.

<b>14  EXT.   HOUSING TOWERS                    NIGHT           14
</b><b>    
</b>    ZOOMING past foreground outdoor Xmas decorations we
    TIGHTEN in on one of several massive residential tower
    blocks that loom over what appears to be a poorer part of
    the city

<b>15  INT.   BUTTLE FLAT                       NIGHT           15
</b><b>    
</b>    HELPMANN and INTERVIEWER are on the TV, the end credits
    rolling over them to the beat of a Mozart theme tune.
    PULLING BACK we reveal that the TV is in a conventional
    sitting room, conventionally decorated for Christmas; out
    the room is oddly encumbered by huge metal conduits that
    snake unpleasantly across and through the walls. Smaller
    conduits radiate from the main one connecting the various
    services that Central Services (the name emblazoned on the
    metal) supply to this household. A conventionally poor but
    proud family occupies the room. MRS BUTTLE is reading
    Dickens' Christmas Carol to GIRL BUTTLE who is about six.
    BOY BUTTLE plays quietly with a toy machine gun and some
    action men dressed in security gear. MR. BUTTLE is putting
    the final touches to a neatly wrapped Christmas present
    which looks identical to the "executive toy" we have just
    seen in he TECHNICIAN'S office.

    Faintly from outside comes a burst of laughter. A tilt of
    the CAMERA indicates that the laughter is coming from the
    floor above.

<b>16  INT.   JILL'S FLAT                       NIGHT           16
</b>
    The flat is very bare and basic. The laughter is coming
    from a cheap portable television showing "Sgt. Bilko. From
    BILKO'S POV we look through an open door of a bathroom
    straight at a mirror propped up by the bath, to enable the
    person in the bath to watch the TV. The person in the bath
    is JILL LAYTON, washing the grime off herself while she
    watches Bilko in the mirror. From her POV in the mirror,
    the T.V. screen is suddenly obscured by part of the body
    of a MAN in uniform.

<b>                             JILL
</b>                    (scared)
               Who's there?

<b>17  INT.   BUTTLE'S FLAT                     NIGHT           17
</b><b>    
</b>    The BUTTLE FAMILY as before. MRS BUTTLE is closing the
    book.

<b>                          MRS BUTTLE
</b>               There, that's enough for tonight. He
               won't come Xmas Eve if you don't get
               plenty of sleep.

<b>                          GIRL BUTTLE
</b>               Father Christmas can't come if we
               haven't got a chimney.

<b>                          MRS BUTTLE
</b>               You'll see.

    The GIRL exchanges goodnight kisses with her parents and
    leaves the room.

<b>                          GIRL BUTTLE
</b>               How will he get down from upstairs?

<b>                          BOY BUTTLE
</b>               It's a secret.

    We follow GIRL BUTTLE out of the sitting room into ...

<b>18  INT.   HALLWAY AND CHILDREN'S BEDROOM    NIGHT           18
</b>
    GIRL BUTTLE enters her bedroom. There is little or no
    light there, and she sees a bulky figure apparently
    lowering himself into the room from the direction of the
    ceiling.

<b>                          GIRL BUTTLE
</b>                    (unalarmed)
               You've come ...

    As she moves, the light from the hallway shows us the
    figure of what looks like a commando on a night raid,
    slowly sliding down a pole in he middle of the room. The
    pole at the top end disappears through a hole in the
    ceiling. Things become immediately clearer

<b>19  INT.   BUTTLE SITTING-ROOM               NIGHT           19
</b>
    Crash! It's a raid! Battle-dressed SECURITY TROOPS smash
    trough the door. Another ONE, swings from a rope, kicks in
    the window from the outside and enters that way. Most
    alarmingly of all, a shower of plaster comes down from the
    ceiling in which a fairly neat round hole appears and
    through the hole comes a fireman's pole down which slide
    TWO MORE SECURITY TROOPS. The whole thing is short, brutal
    and violent.
<b>    
</b>    BUTTLE is grabbed violently and stuffed into a baglike
    canvas device that covers him from head to waist. A metal
    clamp goes round his neck, a metal bar slides up the back
    of the bag. His hands are handcuffed to the metal bar. In
    seconds he has become a canvas parcel. Meanwhile, GIRL
    BUTTLE has been carried out of her bedroom and dumped into
    the lap of her screaming mother. BOY BUTTLE has his toy
    machine gun knocked out of his hands by a TROOPER who we
    see is identical in dress to the action men BOY BUTTLE has
    been playing with. He rushes to his mother as guns are
    viciously trained on them. TROOPS are kicking open the
    doors of other rooms and generally doing a good job. An
    OFFICIAL, wearing plain clothes, now enters from the front
    door and during the turmoil is reading aloud from an
    official document. It goes something like this:

<b>                           OFFICIAL
</b>               I hereby inform you under powers
               entrusted to me under Section 47,
               Paragraph 7 of Council Order Number
               438476, that Mr Buttle, Archibald,
               residing at 412 North Tower, Shangri
               La Towers, has been invited to assist
               the Ministry of Information with
               certain enquiries, the nature of
               which may be ascertained on
               completion of application form
               BZ/ST/486/C fourteen days within this
               date, and that he is liable to
               certain obligations as specified in
               Council Order 173497, including
               financial restitutions which may or
               may not be incurred if Information
               Retrieval procedures beyond those
               incorporated in Article 7 subsections
               8, 10 & 32 are required to elicit
               information leading to permanent
               arrest - notification of which will
               he served with the time period of 5
               working days as stipulated by law. In
               that instance the detainee will be
               debited without further notice
               through central banking procedures
               without prejudice until and unless at
               such a time when re-imbursement
               procedures may be instituted by you
               or third parties on completion of a
               re-imbursement form RB/CZ/907/X ...

    ... and more of the same, most of which is part of the
    audible wall paper while the chaos reigns. As the front
    door slams behind the captive relative peace returns,
    broken by MRS BUTTLE's anguished sobbing.
<b>    
</b><b>                           OFFICIAL
</b>                    (proffering a pen and a
                    thick book of pink receipts
                    to Mrs Buttle)
               Sign here please.
<b>               
</b><b>                          MRS BUTTLE
</b>                    (dazed. She signs weakly)
               What? where have you taken him?

<b>                           OFFICIAL
</b>                    (taking the book)
               thank you.
                    (he hands her another book,
                    this one of blue receipts)
                    (indicating place to sign)
               Same again please. Just there.
                    (checking first book of
                    receipts)
               Press harder his time. Good.

<b>                          MRS BUTTLE
</b>                    (signing again)
               What is this all about?

<b>                           OFFICIAL
</b>                    (tearing out sheet from
                    pink book)
               That's your receipt for your husband.
                    (taking blue book from her)
               Thank you. And this is my receipt for
               your receipt.
                    (he turns to leave along
                    with troopers)

    JILL's shocked face appears looking down through the hole
    in the ceiling. The faces of the workmen BILL and CHARLIE
    also appear, above and behind her.

<b>                             JILL
</b>               Mrs Buttle, are you alright?

    The helmeted SECURITY TROOPS in Buttle's flat drop to
    defensive positions and swing their machine guns up
    towards the hole in the ceiling. All three faces retreat.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>20  INT.   JILL'S FLAT                       NIGHT           20
</b><b>    
</b><b>                            CHARLIE
</b>                    (starting back from the
                    hole with Bill and Jill)
               Eh! Eh! Eh! We're Department of
               Works! Department of Works up here!
               Careful with those bloody things!
<b>    
</b>    JILL, CHARLIE and BILL are hustled aside by a SECURITY MAN
    who clears the fireman's pole from the hole. We can see
    the TROOPS in the room below leaving. A SECOND SECURITY
    man has untied a rope hanging out of the open window. He
    coils the rope up neatly and the TWO SECURITY MEN leave
    the flat.
<b>    
</b><b>                             BILL
</b>                    (to Jill as they watch this
                    highly efficient operation)
               Don't take any notice, love, it's
               their training makes them like
               animals. Best in the world, though.
<b>    
</b><b>                             JILL
</b>               Who are you?
<b>    
</b><b>                            CHARLIE
</b>               Don't you worry love, we'll have
               everything shipshape in a jiffy.
<b>    
</b><b>                             BILL
</b>               That's it. Nothing to worry about.
<b>    
</b><b>                            CHARLIE
</b>               It's Buttle downstairs who can worry,
               eh?
<b>    
</b><b>                             JILL
</b>               There must be some mistake ... Mr
               Buttle's harmless...
<b>    
</b><b>                             BILL
</b>               We don't make mistakes.
<b>    
</b>    So saying, he drops the manhole cover, which is faced with
    same material as the floor, over the hole in the floor. To
    his surprise it drops neatly through the floor into the
    flat below.
<b>                            CHARLIE
</b>               Bloody typical, they've gone back to
               metric without telling us
<b>               
</b>
20a INT.   BUTTLES' FLAT                     NIGHT          20a
<b>    
</b>    MRS BUTTLE stands stunned in the middle of her decimated
    flat. The KIDS wail. Slowly MRS BUTTLE collapses -
    slumping to the floor with the receipt in her hand: we
    tighten into CLOSE UP of "Receipt".

                       JILL (off CAMERA)
               Mrs Buttle? Mrs Buttle?

<b>21  INT.   RECORD CLERK'S POOL                               21
</b><b>    
</b>    We come in on a CLOSE UP of a pink version of the RECEIPT
    being stamped and impaled on desk spike as we PULL OUT to
    reveal an infinite expanse of regularly arranged metal
    desks, each desk with a built-in T.V. console, and each
    (except one) occupied by a CLERK. Every desk is snowed
    under with pieces of paper much like the receipts seen in
    the previous scene. More pacers are delivered to each desk
    intermittently by way of pneumatic tube. OFFICE BOYS
    bustle about with even more paperwork. From the back of
    the room we get a view of the screens which show graphs,
    tabulations, figures ... All of this activity is
    supervised from an elevated walkway by MR KURTZMAN.
    Satisfied that all is well with his clerks he turns and
    walks towards his glass enclosed private office at the top
    of the room, his name lettered on the opaque glass door.

    MR KURTZMAN goes through this door and as he closes it
    behind him, all activity in the CLERKS pool ceases. each
    CLERK adjusts his T.V. screen with the flick of a switch,
    and all the screens change to something which looks very
    like "The Good, The Bad And The Ugly".

<b>22  INT.   MR KURTZMAN'S OFFICE              DAY             22
</b><b>    
</b>    MR KURTZMAN also has a T.V. console. He sits behind his
    desk, reaches for his In-tray, and without looking at the
    console he turns his screen on. He looks through a number
    of files in his In-tray. He is surprised to hear a VOICE
    say, "Turn around real slow, amigo". MR KURTZMAN turns
    around real slow, his expression relaxes, he thumps his
    T.V. console with a large fist, and the screen obediently
    flicks to a display of figures. He picks up a file which
    we see as marked "Buttle, Archibald". He opens the file
    and starts punching the keyboard of the console. The T.V.
    starts bleeping in an alarmed way. MR KURTZMAN is puzzled.
    He punches more figures. The screen starts to flash
    "Error, error, error". MR KURTZMAN sighs with frustration.
    He presses an intercom.
<b>                          MR KURTZMAN
</b>                    (into intercom)
               Mr Lowry, will you step in here
               please?
<b>               
</b>    He returns his attention, puzzled to the file. Nobody
    comes into the office. MR KURTZMAN gets up and walks over
    to his door and opens it. Beyond the door the room full of
    CLERKS is obediently concentrating on the bleeping and
    whirring consoles. From MR KURTZMAN'S POV we see that in
    the centre of the room is an unoccupied desk.

<b>                          MR KURTZMAN
</b>               Does anyone know where Lowry is?

    Nobody knows. MR KURTZMAN closes his door again. A moment
    later it seems to him, and to us, that he has heard the
    crash of six guns blazing away at each other. He re-opens
    the door. The only sound again. He goes back to his desk.
    He punches a few keys. The machine starts emitting even
    more alarming beeps, then horse whinnies, then "Admit
    you're whupped, you drygulching scum". KURTZMAN explodes
    with anger, and presses the intercom again.

<b>                          MR KURTZMAN
</b>                    (Shouting into intercom)
               Where the hell is Sam Lowry?!

<b>23  EXT.   SKY                               DAY             23
</b><b>    
</b>    CUT TO brilliantly clear sky. From on high an odd bird-
    like figure swoops down on the CAMERA. As it comes closer
    we can see that it is, in fact, a MAN wearing strange wood
    and metal bird wings. In the bright sunshine their
    flapping movements create a brilliant, flashing effect.
    Along with the wings, SAM LOWRY (for this is he) wears an
    outfit that combines the best of Flash Gordon and a WWI
    fighter pilot. He sweeps past the CAMERA and then,
    banking, rises BACK INTO SHOT IN MCU. An ethereal voice
    can be heard calling "Sam ... Sam ... Sam". He hovers,
    looking beyond the CAMERA to something wonderful. CUT TO
    face of stunningly beautiful GIRL, she is the idealised
    twin of JILL LAYTON ... Her long hair swirls across her
    face partially obscuring it and making her appear slightly
    mysterious. The CAMERA PULLS AWAY from her as soft
    billowing material sinuously undulates about her. It rises
    and falls like waves carried on the wind. As the CAMERA
    GLIDES BACK through this sea of gossamer we can see that
    the GIRL is being held aloft by and in it. A vast
    landscape stretches below her. The sun frames her in the
    sky. She and SAM are engaged in a beautiful sensual aerial
    ballet.
<b>    
</b>    Romantic music fills the soundtrack.
<b>    
</b>    SAM swoops up and away. The GIRL floats in the distance as
    SAM. rises in the foreground. She beckons to him. SAM
    begins to flap back towards her. But then the dreamy
    quality of this scene is interrupted by threatening
    rumble. SAM looks down.
<b>    
</b>    The ground far below him suddenly erupts as a massive,
    monolithic stone skyscraper bursts through the surface and
    soars upwards with a mighty rush.
<b>    
</b>    CUT to the GIRL in LONG SHOT. The monolith rises up into
    FRAME partially cutting her off from view.
<b>    
</b>    Before SAM can do anything, another stone skyscraper
    breaks through the ground and rushes upwards. Then another
    and another. There is nothing SAM can do. The GIRL is
    being cut of from him by these gigantic faceless
    structures. And then she is finally lost from view
    somewhere in the depths of this strange stone metropolis.
    SAM lies closer. The stone skyscrapers appear to be solid.
    No windows. No doors. Nothing whatsoever to interfere with
    their clean, harsh, rectilinear design. As he flies among
    these towering blocks he sees no sign of the GIRL, only
    sheer walls rising high above him. Below him the walls
    plummet vertiginously into the darkish streets. No sound
    but the creaking flapping of his wings can he heard in
    this dead place. Coming round a corner he sees something
    in the distance. far below him a dark procession is
    wending its way through the narrow passages... away from
    him.
<b>    
</b>    CUT TO LOW ANGLE SHOT of the procession making its way
    past the CAMERA. Black-robed and cowled, the sinister
    figures look like heavily armed monks. These are the
    FORCES OF DARKNESS. Together they are straining at several
    heavy hawsers that rise in long arcs up to a huge metal
    cage floating above and behind the procession. Binding the
    cage are metal straps to which ropes are attached. Inside
    is the GIRL - still enveloped in gossamer which billows as
    if there were a breeze in constant attendance.
<b>    
</b>    CUT TO SAM as He dives out of shot.
<b>    
</b>    CUT to the FORCES OF DARKNESS suddenly stopping in their
    tracks. They've seen something.
<b>    
</b>    CUT to their POV. There at the end of the passage between
    two stone skyscrapers stands SAM ... barring the way.
<b>    
</b>    CUT to swords being unsheathed. Cowls being thrown back.
    Underneath are rotting, broken dolls' faces. All the faces
    are the same except for the manner in which they have
    decayed. They smile - slobbering, sickeningly. Suddenly
    the robed bodies change shape - some rising up to become
    long, others expanding sideways to become bulbous, others
    shrinking. From the folds of cloth come evil weapons. The
    FORCES are massed ready to charge.
    CUT to long shot of SAM. He removes his arms from his
    wings and folds the wings behind him. He is ready.
<b>    
</b>    Cut to the FORCES. Nothing moves ... except for the
    constant dribble from their cracked mouths.

    CUT back to SAM. Stillness. The tension is unbearable.
    Suddenly SAM unleashes a terrifying scream and charges the
    fearsome horde. Unarmed!

    CUT to the FORCES thundering down to SAM. Weapons flailing
    madly.

    SAM skillfully dodges the swordthrust of the leading
    field, and karate chops him senseless - at the same time
    catching his sword as he falls. Spinning around he parries
    a spearthrust and skewers a third attacker. Slash! Hack!
    Stab! He lays waste to the FORCES. Nothing can stop this
    boy. The pile of black-robed bodies grows with each swing
    of SAM's sword. Wham! Bam! Smash! SAM carves his way
    through the mob with nary a scratch. And then, suddenly,
    they are all dead, but a heap of blackness to commemorate
    SAM's prowess. The GIRL is beaming as SAM makes his way
    toward the hawsers holding the cage. But then a noise
    behind him makes him turn. There, behind him the pile of
    black shapes begin to rise. The ropes become a mass of
    flapping black cloth. This evil churning cloud coalesces
    and lifts off the ground. The horrible flapping apparition
    emits a terrifying maniacal laughter as it flies away. SAM
    is about to rush after it to halt its escape but is
    stopped by the sound of a telephone ringing. He looks
    around - confused.

<b>24  INT.   SAM'S BEDROOM                     MORNING         24
</b>
    TIGHT SHOT of telephone. The ringing continues. A hand
    grapples with the receiver. SAM is in bed in a darkened
    room. Sleepily he drags receiver to his ear.

<b>                              SAM
</b>               Hello ... What ... what? Oh ... Mr
               Kurtzman! ... You're up late. Oh, is
               it?

    There is an electronic box of tricks by his bed,
    incorporating an alarm. SAM thumps it. The alarm goes off.
    This sets of a series of other things ... The window
    shutters roll up letting in the morning light. Both taps
    turn on in the bathroom ...

<b>                              SAM
</b>                    (into phone)
               The electronics here are up the
               spout. Yours too, sir? Don't worry
               sir - I'll be there.

    SAM puts down the phone and gets into his suit which is
    moving towards him. Noticing one of his film posters is
    loose he pushes the pin in firmly.
<b>    
</b>    In the kitchen a coffee maker starts up. In the sitting
    room the television switches on. Back in the bedroom a
    cupboard door springs open and a rack slides out with
    SAM's clothes neatly hanging - ready to be put on. SAM
    comes out of the bathroom, having turned off the bath
    taps, and starts to get dressed. In the kitchen the coffee-
    maker has finished making s small pot of coffee. SAM pours
    a quick cup and is gone at the door. Throughout all this
    we have had a chance to get a glimpse of SAM's flat. It is
    functional, soulless and, though neat, has not been
    assembled with a loving hand. Most of the furnishings are
    built in. The walls are divided into two-foot square metal
    panels painted a non-committal colour. Certain of the wall
    panels have Central Services logos on them with the
    admonition "Do not obstruct or remove" below. SAM has
    livened his bedroom up with large and colorful film
    posters. The sitting room sports several framed pictures
    of wide beautiful vistas.

<b>25  INT.   MINISTRY OF INFORMATION LOBBY     DAY             25
</b>
    This is a gigantic, vaguely 30's monumental-style
    building. The lobby is a vast impressive space containing
    reception desks, fountains, statues etc. Prominent are the
    security measures, which include automatic mobile cameras,
    video screens and groups of SECURITY MEN who search all
    who enter. SAM is finishing going through Security when he
    meets JACK who is on his way out of the building.

<b>                             JACK
</b>               Sam!

<b>                              SAM
</b>               Jack!

<b>                             JACK
</b>               Long time no see!

<b>                              SAM
</b>               Well, since you disappeared up the
               ladder of Information Retrieval ... I
               don't expect to see you slumming in
               Records - what's the problem?

<b>                             JACK
</b>               Problem? - No problem - yes,
               everything's going fantastically
               well, wonderful, marvelous, great
               career prospects, Alison in great
               shape, kids fine, beautiful home, I'm
               on Security Level Five now, and Mr
               Helpmann relies on me more and more,
               yes, couldn't be better, I feel
               terrifically motivated and job-
               rewarded -
<b>               
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               You sound worried.

<b>                             JACK
</b>               Me? - if I'm worried about anyone,
               it's you. What happened to you, Sam?
               You were the brightest of us -

    As they have been talking, a nearby bank of closed circuit
    TV screens has been displaying shots of people entering
    the lobby. As each one enters the CAMERA ZOOMS IN TIGHT on
    their faces for a frozen CLOSE-UP. JILL has just entered
    and the CAMERA ZOOMS IN and freezes on her face. SAM
    happens to glance up at this moment. He is startled - the
    over-exposed TV image is the face of the GIRL FROM THE
    DREAM. The face is only there a few seconds before being
    replaced by another picture. SAM looks about to see where
    the GIRL is, but JILL, in overalls, has her back to him as
    she stands in the queue for the Information desk and so
    there is no-one even vaguely reminiscent of the DREAM
    GIRL. SAM decides he must have imagined it. Over this JACK
    has been talking.

<b>                             JACK
</b>               What's the matter?
<b>                               
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Sorry. Nothing.
                    (snapping out of it)
               See you - I'm going to be late.

<b>                             JACK
</b>                    (looking at his watch)
               You are late.

<b>                              SAM
</b>               Even later.

<b>                             JACK
</b>               Sam, your life is going wrong - let
               your friends tell you - Records is a
               dead end department, no Security
               Level worth a damn, it's impossible
               to get noticed -

<b>                              SAM
</b>               Yes, I know, fantastic, marvellous,
               wonderful - remember me to Alison -
               and the - er - twins.

<b>                             JACK
</b>               Triplets.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Really? - God, how time flies!
<b>    
</b>    As SAM heads off to the lift, he passes a group of MEN
    standing around a temporary TV monitor. Several of them
    are dressed in white lab coats. They are being explained
    the benefits of a new surveillance system by a salesman
    type. His assistant is operating the controls. On the
    monitor we can see JILL standing in the queue for the
    Information desk. The CAMERA appears to he tracking in on
    her.
<b>    
</b>    CUT TO JILL at top of queue with several forms in her
    hand. A strange prototype radio controlled camera on a
    wheeled base is whirring and clicking as it approaches
    her. Throughout the next sequence it pokes around JILL in
    an annoying manner - thrusting itself at her face, trying
    to see what is written on the forms, peering over her
    shoulder. JILL hands a form to the Information Porter.
<b>    
</b><b>                             JILL
</b>               I want to report a wrongful arrest.
<b>    
</b><b>                            PORTER
</b>                    (looking at form)
               You want Information Adjustments.
               Different department.
<b>    
</b><b>                             JILL
</b>                    (exasperated but
                    controlled)
               I've been to Information Adjustments.
               They sent me here. They told me you
               had a form I had to fill in.
<b>    
</b><b>                            PORTER
</b>               Have you got an Arrest Receipt?
<b>    
</b><b>                             JILL
</b>               Yes.
<b>    
</b><b>                            PORTER
</b>               Is it stamped?
<b>    
</b><b>                             JILL
</b>                    (producing Buttle receipt)
               Stamped?
<b>    
</b><b>                            PORTER
</b>                    (examining receipt)
               No, there's no stamp on it. You see!
               I can't give you the form until it's
               stamped.
<b>    
</b><b>                             JILL
</b>               Where do I get it stamped?
<b>    
</b><b>                            PORTER
</b>               Information Adjustments.
<b>    
</b>    The radio-controlled camera noses right up to JILL's face
    as she turns. She swats the annoying thing with her stack
    of forms as she storms off. The camera overbalances and
    crashes into the desk - sparking and spluttering.
<b>    
</b>    CUTTING BACK to the GROUP around the monitor we see a
    deeply hurt SALESMAN and several sceptical white-coated
<b>    TECHNICIANS.
</b><b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>26  INT.   MR KURTZMAN'S OFFICE              DAY             26
</b><b>    
</b>    SAM is busily working at the console, unraveling a problem
    while KURTZMAN looks on anxiously and ineffectually.
<b>    
</b><b>                           KURTZMAN
</b>               Perhaps the machine's on the blink!
               It keeps picking up old films. That
               can't he right, can it?
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               It's not the machine. There's a
               mismatch on the personnel code
               numbers... Ah there we go! That's a
               B58/732 when it should be a T47/215
               ... Tuttle ... he should have £31.06,
               debited against his account for
               electrical procedures, not Buttle.
<b>    
</b><b>                           KURTZMAN
</b>               Oh my God, a mistake!
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               It's not our mistake!
<b>    
</b><b>                           KURTZMAN
</b>                    (eagerly)
               Isn't it? Whose is it?
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Information Retrieval.
<b>    
</b><b>                           KURTZMAN
</b>               Oh, good!
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Expediting has put in for electrical
               procedures in respect of Buttle,
               Archibald, shoe repair operative, but
               Security has invoiced Admin for
               Tuttle, Archibald, heating engineer
<b>    
</b>    SAM is still punching keys.
<b>    
</b><b>                           KURTZMAN
</b>               What a relief! I don't know what I'd
               do if you ever got promoted.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Don't worry.
<b>    
</b><b>                           KURTZMAN
</b>               But if they did promote you
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               I've told you before. I'd turn it
               down.
<b>    
</b><b>                           KURTZMAN
</b>               Would you really, Sam?
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Really.
<b>    
</b><b>                           KURTZMAN
</b>                    (churned up)
               You've been promoted.
<b>    
</b>    KURTZMAN hands SAM a sheet of printed paper. SAM takes the
    paper, not pleased, and glances at it.
<b>    
</b>    CLOSE UP of paper: "LOWRY, S. (RECORDS. MIN OF INF.)
    TRANSFER TO INFORMATION RETRIEVAL - (Expediting, Security
    Level 3).
<b>    
</b><b>                           KURTZMAN
</b>               It's your mother isn't it? Pulling
               strings again.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (explodes)
               What a BITCH!
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>27  INT.   DOCTOR'S OFFICE                   DAY             27
</b><b>    
</b>    CUT TO an old WOMAN's face reflected in triplicate in a
    three-panelled mirror. A pair of MAN's hands have a grip
    on her flabby cheeks, pulling them out several inches on
    either side of her face. When I say several inches that's
    just what I mean. Not only are her jowls being stretched
    like silly putty but they are also being wrapped around to
    the back of her neck to demonstrate how tight and smooth
    her face can be made by DOCTOR who is prattling on over
    this freak show.
<b>    
</b><b>                            DOCTOR
</b>               Now, when you come in tomorrow, Mrs
               Lowry, we'll make a little tuck here
               ... and there ...
<b>    
</b>    CUT TO WIDE SHOT of DOCTOR's surgery. It looks a bit like
    a cross between an operating theatre and a boudoir. The
    cold steel, glass and plastic surfaces are badly disguised
    with pastel coloured chintz and satin. At the dressing
    table sits the old WOMAN, SAM'S MOTHER. Behind her stands
    the DOCTOR. He is much like his surgery. He has tailored
    his surgical garments like a gigolo's dressing gown. It
    seems that he has done a bit of tuck-taking on himself.
    There is a certain plastic smoothness to his skin, but all
    in all he has been fairly successful. SAM is pacing
    around, raving.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (angrily)
               I just wish you would stop
               interfering, mother! I don't want
               promotion. I'm happy where I am.
<b>    
</b><b>                            MOTHER
</b>               No you're not. Jack Lint is a lesson
               to you - he never had your brains but
               he's got the ambition. You haven't
               got the ambition but luckily you've
               got me. And Mr Helpmann. Mr Helpmann
               was very close -
<b>    
</b><b>                            DOCTOR
</b>               Now, Mrs Lowry, don't get upset
                    (so SAM)
               Please wait in reception, Mr Lowry,
               you're giving her wrinkles.
<b>    
</b><b>                            MOTHER
</b>               You see!
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (groans)
<b>    
</b><b>                            DOCTOR
</b>               Now Mrs Lowry, try to relax. You must
               trust me. I'll make you twenty years
               younger ...
<b>                               
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Huh!
<b>                               
</b><b>                            DOCTOR
</b>                    (giving Sam a dirty look)
               ... twenty-five if we just drain the
               excess fluid from the pouches ...
<b>    
</b><b>                            MOTHER
</b>               Dr Jaffe, you're a genius. Would you
               like to be Surgeon General? Four
               Star. I know everybody.
<b>                               
</b><b>                            DOCTOR
</b>               Well they won't know you when I've
               finished with you.
<b>               
</b>    The DOCTOR reaches into his smock pocket for a coloured
    marker. He starts colouring up her face with strokes of
    different coloured markers.
<b>    
</b><b>                            DOCTOR
</b>               First we must eliminate the excess
               derma ... so! ... Then the flaccid
               tissues under the eyes ... And now
               the forehead ... Zip! I lift the
               wrinkles and worry lines right up
               into the wi- into the hairline, comme
               ca ...
<b>    
</b>    SAM looks disgusted.
<b>    
</b><b>                            DOCTOR
</b>               And now the template ... There ...
               there ... there ... Now a bit of
               sticky ... There we go!
                    (triumphantly)
               Already she is twice as beautiful as
               she was before - voila!
<b>    
</b>    The DOCTOR moves his body aside, revealing MRS LOWRY's
    face, covered with coloured lines and wrapped in
    cellophane held in shape by cellotape. SAM stares at her.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               My God, it works.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>28  INT.   POSH RESTAURANT (ENTRANCE)        DAY             28
</b><b>    
</b>    The conversation between SAM and his MOTHER takes place
    while they are going through the sort of security checks
    familiar at airports. They are, however, just outside the
    velvet rope of the posh restaurant.
<b>    
</b><b>                            MOTHER
</b>                    (in full flow)
               Mr Helpmann was very close to your
               poor father. He was very close to me.
               Still is. He'll take you under his
               wing at Information Retrieval. You'll
               like it when you get there.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               You're not listening, mother.
<b>    
</b>    A warning buzzer goes off as MOTHER's handbag goes thru
    security check. It turns out to have been activated by a
    gaily wrapped package. A SECURITY GUARD relieves her of it
    and unwraps the package which contains the same kind of
    executive toy which we have seen twice before.
<b>    
</b><b>                            MOTHER
</b>               It's a present for my son.
<b>    
</b>    She takes the toy back and hands it to SAM.
<b>    
</b><b>                            MOTHER
</b>               I hope you like it. It's very
               exclusive.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               What is it?
<b>    
</b><b>                            MOTHER
</b>               It's something for executives.
<b>    
</b>    At this point the MAITRE D arrives on the scene.
<b>    
</b><b>                           MAITRE D
</b>               Madam Lowry, how exquisite to see you
               again. Merry Christmas.
<b>    
</b>    He pulls aside he velvet rope with a grand flourish. He
    looks disdainfully at SAM's unfashionable clerk's suite
<b>    
</b><b>                            MOTHER
</b>               Hello, Spiro. Merry Christmas.
<b>    
</b><b>                             SPIRO
</b>                    (blocking Sam's way)
               I'm sorry but ...
<b>    
</b><b>                            MOTHER
</b>               You remember Samuel, my son.
<b>    
</b><b>                             SPIRO
</b>                    {suddenly unctious)
               Oh, but of course ...
<b>    
</b><b>                            MOTHER
</b>               We're meeting Mrs Terrain.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Are we?
<b>    
</b><b>                             SPIRO
</b>               Ah yes, the lady is waiting.
<b>    
</b>    SPIRO leads the way. SAM and his MOTHER follow, across the
    restaurant which is much like the Palm Court at the Plaza
    New York. Trellises, marble columns, antique mirroring,
    potted palms combine to impress us with their
    sophistication and taste. A string quartet can just be
    made out against the far wall. Except for the unfortunate
    intrusion of metal tubing and ducting brutally thrusting
    across areas of the ceiling, occasionally penetrating
    right through the middle of a particularly valuable-
    looking mirror, the general effect is one of confident
    wealth and breeding. SAM, MOTHER and MAITRE D make their
    way across the room. The waltzing strains of the string
    quartet accompanying them.
<b>    
</b>    CUT to group of tables with diners. At one of them sits a
    wealthy-looking OLDER WOMAN with a rather plain-looking
    DAUGHTER in her 20s. The OLDER WOMAN is easily
    distinguished from the other clientele by a large bandage
    that covers a goodish part of her head. The two of them
    (the MOTHER and DAUGHTER, not the MOTHER and bandage) are
    perusing the menus. SAM notes the DAUGHTER, unpleased.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Mother, I thought we were going to be
               able to talk .... Oh God, she's got
               what's he name with her.
<b>    
</b>    SAM and his MOTHER arrive at the table.
<b>    
</b><b>                          MRS TERRAIN
</b>               Ida! Sam!
<b>    
</b><b>                            MOTHER
</b>               Alma, how are you? You're looking
               wonderful! Hello, Shirley.
<b>    
</b><b>                            SHIRLEY
</b>                    (shy to Sam)
               Salt?
<b>    
</b><b>                          MRS TERRAIN
</b>                    (to Shirley)
               Not yet.
                    (to Sam and Mother)
               Happy Christmas, Sam.
<b>    
</b>    She hands SAM a gaily wrapped package which obviously
    contains the same executive toy.
<b>    
</b><b>                            MOTHER
</b>               Sorry we're late. Shall we order? Get
               it out of the way. What are you going
               to have Alma?
<b>    
</b>    She starts to hunt through the huge menu the MAITRE D has
    just handed her with full colour photos of the splendid
    dishes available.
<b>    
</b><b>                          MRS TERRAIN
</b>               I can't make up my mind whether to
               have a number one or a number two.
               What do you recommend, Spiro?
<b>                               
</b><b>                             SPIRO
</b>                    (conspiratorially)
               Between you and me, Madam, today the
               number two.
<b>    
</b><b>                          MRS TERRAIN
</b>               Thank you, Spiro. Shirley, what are
               you going to have?
<b>    
</b><b>                            SHIRLEY
</b>                    (panics quietly)
<b>    
</b><b>                             SPIRO
</b>                    (conspiratorially)
               Between you and me, Mademoiselle,
               today the number one. Madam Lowry?
<b>    
</b><b>                            MOTHER
</b>               Oh, to hell with the diet, a number
               eight, please.
<b>    
</b><b>                             SPIRO
</b>               A most perceptive choice, Madam, if I
               may say so.
                    (to Sam)
               Monsieur?
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (brusquely)
               A steak, please. Rare.
                    (to his mother)
               Mother, I need to ...
<b>    
</b><b>                             SPIRO
</b>                    (piqued)
               Monsieur. Quel numero.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (handing back menu)
               I don't know which numero.
<b>    
</b><b>                             SPIRO
</b>                    (writing on pad)
               Numero, trois.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b>    EVERYONE is a bit embarrassed here. MOTHER gives SAM a
    withering look. SPIRO stalks away.
<b>    
</b><b>                            MOTHER
</b>                    (trying to restart things)
               Alma, you wicked thing ...
                    (indicating bandages)
               you've started your treatment.
<b>    
</b><b>                          MRS TERRAIN
</b>               You noticed.
                    (enthusiastically)
               I must tell you all about it.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (to his mother)
               Mother, will you listen to
<b>    
</b>    At this moment the food arrives. SPIRO elaborately lifts
    off the silver covers and with a flourish distributes the
    plates of food. Each order looks identical - a big splodge
    of brown lumpy stuff. The only differences between the
    lumps are the Identifying photographs on sticks stuck in
    each. The beautiful colour photos match the photos which
    were on the menus.
<b>    
</b><b>                             SPIRO
</b>                    (showing off that he
                    remembers who's ordered
                    what)
               Numero huit, braised veal in wine
               sauce.
                    (he sets it in front of
                    Sam's Mother)
<b>    
</b><b>                    MRS TERRAIN
</b>               It's too exciting. I've left Dr Jaffe
               and gone to Dr. Chapman.
<b>    
</b><b>                             SPIRO
</b>               Numero deux, duck a l'orange.
                    (he sets it in front of Mrs
                    Terrain)
<b>    
</b><b>                            MOTHER
</b>               The acid man?
<b>    
</b><b>                          MRS TERRAIN
</b>               Really, Ida, just because his
               techniques are revolutionary ... I
               don't go around calling Dr Jaffe the
               knife man.
<b>    
</b><b>                             SPIRO
</b>               Numero une, crevettes à la
               mayonaaise.
                    (he sets it in front of
                    Shirley)

<b>                            MOTHER
</b>               I'm sorry Alma, I didn't mean to
               sound so ...

<b>                          MRS TERRAIN
</b>               That's all right Ida ... it's just
               that he's such an artist. To him,
               cutting is so crude ... so primitive.

<b>                             SPIRO
</b>               Numero trois, steak.
                    (He sets this in front of
                    Sam)
               Monsieur, Mesdames, Bon appetit.

<b>                          ALL BUT SAM
</b>               Merci.

<b>                          MRS TERRAIN
</b>               Acid on the other hand, can be used
               for such wonderfully subtle shading,
               such delicate nuances - just like a
               Rembrant etching ... and it's so much
               quicker. Why, if it weren't for a
               teensy-weensy complication - the
               doctor said it could have happened to
               anyone - I would have had these
               bandages off yesterday.

<b>                            SHIRLEY
</b>                    (to Sam, after attracting
                    her mother's attention and
                    receiving a nod)
               Salt?
<b>    
</b>    They are just about to dip into their respective splodges
    when there is a terrific explosion - a huge hole is
    blasted out of the wall to the kitchen. Chaos erupts
    around the carnage as WAITERS try putting out the flames
    with extinguishers. PEOPLE, bloody and dying, are moaning.
    The DINERS not actually affected by the blast look up for
    a moment and then, with a few raised eyebrows, go back to
    their meals.
<b>    
</b><b>    IMMEDIATELY AFTER THE EXPLOSION.
</b>
<b>                            MOTHER
</b>               What were we saying?
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (picking bomb debris out of
                    his brown lump)
               This isn't rare!
<b>    
</b><b>                            MOTHER
</b>               By the way, I saw a wonderful idea
               for Christmas presents at the
               chemists. Gift tokens. Medical gift
               tokens.
<b>    
</b><b>                          MRS TERRAIN
</b>               Oh, that sounds marvellous.
<b>    
</b><b>                            MOTHER
</b>               Yes, they're good at any doctor's and
               at many of the major hospitals - and
               they're accepted for gynecological
               complications including Caesarian
               section.
<b>    
</b>    SAM, in the act of taking in another forkful of his
    unappetising meal, drops his form in disgust
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Look - please - I'm sorry - but
               honestly, mother, this is -
<b>    
</b><b>                            MOTHER.
</b>               I quite agree! - It's impossible!
<b>    
</b>    MOTHER raises her arm to gain the attention of the MAITRE
    D who is frantically trying to deal with the emergency.
    The activity in the background has increased throughout
    the conversation. The fire-brigade has arrived with sirens
    blaring. Ministry TROOPS have charged in and are arresting
    WAITERS. Stretchers have been bought in for the injured
    and these are being rushed past our little GROUP's table.
    The MAITRE D comes to the table, his DJ now blood-
    spattered.
<b>    
</b><b>                           MAITRE D
</b>               I am sorry, Madam ... I don't know
               what to say ... this very rarely
               happens to us - I'll do what I can
               straight away
<b>    
</b>    He hurries away.
<b>    
</b><b>                          MRS TERRAIN
</b>               Really, Sam - when are you going to
               do something about these terrorists?
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               What? Now? It's my lunch hour.

<b>                            MOTHER
</b>               Actually, Alma, that's one of the
               little things I was dying to tell you
               ... Sam's been promoted to
               Information Retrieval.

<b>                              SAM
</b>                    (angry and surprised)
               Mother!

<b>                          MRS TERRAIN
</b>               Oh that's wonderful! Congratulations
               Sam...

<b>                            SHIRLEY
</b>               You can show those fucking murderous
               bastards a thing or two.

<b>                          MRS TERRAIN
</b>                    (shocked and embarrassed)
               Shirley!
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Stop this!
                    (leaping to his feet)
               I'm not being promoted. I'm not going
               to Information Retrieval!
                    (he scrumples promotion
                    notification which he has
                    been holding and throws it
                    on the floor)
               If I want you to stick your oar in,
               mother, I'll tell you where to stick
               it!
<b>    
</b>    EVERYBODY is shocked. He recovers his composure slightly.
    Embarrassed, he bends, and picks up the ball of paper
    which he starts smoothing back into Its flat state.
<b>    
</b><b>                            SHIRLEY
</b>                    (back to her uncertain
                    form)
               Pepper...?
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Look - I've got to get back -
<b>    
</b>    As SAM goes, MAITRE D reappears with a group of WAITERS -
    those remaining unarrested - whom he has organised to gut
    up a folding screen around the table. This cuts of the
    sight if not the noise of the VICTIMS of the explosion.
<b>    
</b><b>                            MOTHER
</b>               Sam ... you haven't had dessert.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               I'm sorry. I don' t want dessert. I
               don't want promotion. I don't want
               anything.
<b>    
</b><b>                            MOTHER
</b>               Don't be childish, Samuel. Of course
               you want something. You must have
               hopes, wishes, dreams.
<b>    
</b>    Their voices have been rising towards a shout in order to
    rise above the volume of the growing chaos around them.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (shouts loud)
<b>               NO, NOTHING. NOT EVEN DREAMS!
</b><b>    
</b><b>29  EXT.   BRILLIANT SKY                     DAY             29
</b><b>    
</b>    SAM as his dream-self rises INTO SHOT, his wings straining
    as he tows the floating cage imprisoning the GIRL. They
    are rising up and away from the monolithic stone
    skyscrapers that stretch away below them.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               I'm taking you to a safe place. A
               place where they will never be able
               to get at us ... ever.
<b>    
</b>    An eyeball is scanning the sky. PULLING BACK we see it is
    but one of thousands, tightly packed side by side forming
    a landscape that extends as far as we can see. As SAM and
    the GIRL in her cage come into view it becomes apparent
    just how big these eyeballs are - they are gigantic -
    about 10 feet in diameter. All of them follow SAM as he
    comes to rest on a platform high atop a column that rises
    from the centre of this bizarre place.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               There's no way they can approach us
               without being seen. You're safe here.
<b>    
</b>    He anchors the hawser holding the cage and takes off his
    wings. Just as he starts climbing up to the cage a
    terrific cracking noise is heard. SAM freezes.
<b>    
</b>    A dead straight crack is bisecting the sky from somewhere
    beyond the horizon - running right up the sky and over the
    camera. SAM follows it as it continues over the GIRL and
    down to the opposite horizon. Another crackling noise is
    heard. Another crack appears. Then another. And another.
    All these cracks are emanating from a vanishing point over
    the horizon. Soon the sky is covered with these cracks
    from horizon to foreground. Then cracks begin appearing at
    right angles to them. Very quickly the sky is covered with
    a mammoth grid. Once it is complete, another noise is
    heard. Something like massive blocks of stone sliding
    against one another. One of the squares formed by the grid
    pattern begins to slide upwards as if being pulled out
    from the back side of the sky. A square hole is left in
    its place. We can see the sides of the hole as it extends
    upwards into blackness. As soon as this first block of sky
    is withdrawn, another begins to slide up and away. SAM is
    frozen in position as this terrifying spectacle goes on
    above him. The eyeballs are madly looking this way and
    that. The grinding noises are deafening as block after
    block of sky is removed. With each successive loss the
    light decreases. The GIRL is crying out for SAM to save
    her. Frantically SAM tries to haul the cage down to the
    platform but it's too late.
<b>    
</b>    Where the sky was is now pitch black. Only one block of
    sky remains. Slowly that final bit of sky is pulled up and
    out of shot. Total blackness. A maniacal laughter can be
    heard. A beam of light is switched on. SAM has a
    searchlight in his hand and is searching the darkness. The
    laughter continues. Suddenly the beam catches something
    black and moving. it's the same black, flapping cloth that
    appeared at the end of the previous dream. The horrible
    flapping thing comes thundering down on SAM.
<b>    
</b>    He is engulfed in the black awfulness.
<b>    
</b><b>30  INT. SAM'S BEDROOM                       NIGHT           30
</b><b>    
</b>    SAM is in bed, grappling with the bedclothes. He is
    dripping with sweat and screaming. The room is
    oppressively hot. He gets up and looks at the thermostat.
    It reads 99. He fumbles with it, but to no avail. It's
    stuck.
<b>    
</b>    CUT to SAM coming into the sitting room. He rushes over to
    the window and tries to open it. But it wasn't designed to
    be opened. Screws hold it firmly shut. SAM heads to the
    kitchen He finds a knife which he uses to unscrew the
    window. He swings the window open and takes a deep breath.
    GAG! COUGH! HACK! A terrible greeny-brown smog pours in
    through the window. Desperately SAM shuts the window and
    madly tightens up the screws. Swinging a newspaper, he
    tries clearing a path through the clouded atmosphere. He
    makes it to the front door and staggers out into the hall
    gasping for air.
    CUT to telephone being lifted from its cradle. Pull back
    as SAM with opened telephone directory in front of him
    dials. He is seated in his kitchen. In front of his open
    refrigerator. The phone rings at the other end.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (into phone)
               Hello - Central Services - I'm at
               579B Block l9, Northwestern Section D
               - that's exit 1 on Green Pastures
               Highway at the Orange Blossom Flyover
               - and I've got trouble with the air-
               conditioning
<b>    
</b><b>                          PHONE VOICE
</b>               Thank you or calling Central
               Services. am sorry, due to temporary
               staff shortage, Central Services
               cannot take service calls centrally
               between 2300 and 0900 hours - have a
               nice day - this has not been a
               recording, incident-
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               This is an emergency!
<b>                               
</b><b>                          PHONE VOICE
</b>               Thank you for calling Central
               Services. I am sorry, due -
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Yes, but. I've got to have a heating
               engineer
<b>    
</b><b>                          PHONE VOICE
</b>               Thank you for calling Cen -
<b>    
</b>    SAM slams the phone down.
<b>    
</b>    CUT to SAM sitting in front of the refrigerator. The door
    is open and he has wedged a chair into the gap in a
    desperate bid to keep cool. He is nodding off. As his head
    slumps against one of the shelves, a jar of pickled onions
    falls to the floor. The onions scattering everywhere.
<b>    
</b><b>31  EXT.   DARKNESS                          NIGHT           31
</b><b>    
</b>    The milky white spheres tumble everywhere. But they are
    not onions, they are the giant eyeballs burtling through
    space. SAM is clinging desperately to one. He grabs the
    pupil for a better handhold and it opens like a hatch
    cover. SAM manages to pull himself inside. Once out of the
    intergalactic maelstrom, SAM turns to survey the cramped
    and dark space inside the eyeball. It seems to be bisected
    by a dividing wall, from which a thin sliver of light is
    escaping. Pushing on the wall in the area of the slit, SAM
    is able to move a section. More light shaftes into the
    tiny space from around the edges of what appears to be a
    small hatch. SAM scrunches down and really puts his
    shoulder to the hatch. with a metallic rasp it gives way
    and SAM crashes through.
<b>    
</b>    CUT to other side of opening as SAM topples through. He
    catches himself in the nick of time as the camera zooms
    back revealing his close call with disaster. He is high on
    a vast wall of what looks like filing cabinets. The hatch
    he came through was the front of one of the millions of
    files-drawers composing this wall. As he scrambles back
    into the opening we can see that the wall drops away for
    hundreds of feet, disappear into a steaming mist. Other
    walls of files enclose this vast space. From where SAM is
    it looks like the view from the 50th storey of the Time
    Life building in NYC. These millions of files are being
    tended by MEN arising themselves up and down, as well as
    sideways, on modern skyscraper window-cleaners' platforms.
    The attendants are seen putting PEOPLE in different period
    costumes into drawers. SAM's attention is distracted by a
    sound overhead. Looking up he sees a window washer
    platform being lowered in his direction. Leaning over the
    side is a JOLLY GENT, who happens to look like MR HELPMANN
    (as seen on TV).
<b>    
</b><b>                             GENT
</b>               Ah ha ... there you are, Sam.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               What? How do you know my name?
<b>    
</b><b>                             GENT
</b>               We know everything here. This is the
               Storeroom of Knowledge.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (climbing onto the
                    platform)
               Then perhaps you can help me. I've
               lost someone who ...
<b>    
</b><b>                             GENT
</b>                    (interrupting)
               We know that too. You've come to the
               right place.
<b>    
</b>    The platform carries them along the files.
<b>    
</b><b>                             GENT
</b>               Oh, yes. We've got everything here.
               Every bit of knowledge, wisdom,
               learning ... every experience, every
               thought neatly filed away.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (incredulous)
               What? You mean you've got ...
<b>    
</b><b>                             GENT
</b>               Well not exactly. But, if you help us
               we'll help you. The Forces Of
               Darkness have won the day ... but,
               tomorrow is another one
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               What do I have to do.
<b>    
</b><b>                             GENT
</b>               You must save the day.
<b>    
</b>    The platform has stopped. The GENT pulls out a drawer. He
    reaches inside.
<b>    
</b>    The GENT pulls out a wonderful sword and helmet.
<b>    
</b><b>                             GENT
</b>               This is the Sword Of Truth ... and
               this the Helmet Of Justice.
<b>    
</b>    As SAM begins to strap on the weapon the GENT brings out a
    cape.
<b>    
</b><b>                             GENT
</b>               And this. completes the outfit.
<b>    
</b>    He puts the cape around SAM's shoulders and helps him step
    into the drawer. A moment's hesitation and then SAM outs
    the helmet on and lies down in the drawer. It fits just
    like a coffin.. As he lies back the GENT pushes the drawer
    in.
<b>    
</b><b>                             GENT
</b>               It won't be pleasant but, trust me.
<b>    
</b>    As the drawer is pushed in SAM suffers a sudden bout of
    claustrophobia. Looking up at the diministing opening he
    is surprised to see - not the face of the JOLLY GENT - but
    a terrifying SAMURAI WARRIOR's masked helmet. SAM
    struggles to prevent the drawer being closed.
<b>    
</b><b>32  INT.   SAM'S FLAT                        NIGHT           32
</b><b>    
</b>    SAM is grabbing the walls of the fridge. Water from the
    defrosted freezer compartment drips on his head. He wakes
    up. Before he can really take in where he is the phone
    rings. He staggers over to it.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Hello ... hello ...
<b>    
</b><b>                          PHONE VOICE
</b>               Hello. Mr Lowry?
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Who's that?
                    (pause)
<b>    
</b>    A sound at the kitchen door turns SAM's head - and ours -
    just in time to half see a quick blurred movement, but
    then a rapid voice in his ear-piece brings his head back.
<b>    
</b><b>                          PHONE VOICE
</b>               Put the phone down and your hands up.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (into the phone)
               What? Who is this?
<b>    
</b>    SAM realises that the voice is also in the room behind
    him. He turns round and sees TUTTLE. TUTTLE is middle-
    aged, a short tough figure dressed in dark clothes
    suggesting a cross between a cat burglar and a night-raid
    commando. In one hand he holds a gun pointed at SAM. The
    other hand is holding a telephone receiver which TUTTLE is
    in the act of placing in the large capacious bag at his
    feet. SAM puts down his phone, and his hands up.
<b>    
</b><b>                            TUTTLE
</b>               Nice and easy now. Keep your hands
               where I can see them.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               What is this?
                    (indignantly)
               Who the hell are you?
<b>    
</b>    TUTTLE, keeping the gun on SAM, goes to different doors,
    leaning backwards into bedroom, bathroom and closet.
<b>    
</b>    TUTTLE suddenly relaxes and pockets his gun.
<b>    
</b><b>                            TUTTLE
</b>               Harry Tuttle. Heating engineer. At
               your service.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Tuttle! Are you from Central
               Services?
<b>    
</b><b>                            TUTTLE
</b>               Ha!!
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               But ... I called Central Services.
<b>    
</b><b>                            TUTTLE
</b>               They're a bit overworked these days.
               Luckily I intercepted your call.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               What?
<b>    
</b>    By now, BOTH are pouring with sweat.
    TUTTLE heads across the room and swiftly begins to undo a
    wall panel.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Wait a minute, what was that business
               with the gun?
<b>    
</b>    TUTTLE hands SAM the panel and plunges his arm into the
    space behind it.
<b>    
</b><b>                            TUTTLE
</b>               A little precaution, sir. I've had
               traps set for me before now. There
               are people in Central Services who'd
               love to get their hands on Harry
               Tuttle.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Are you saying this is illegal?
<b>    
</b>    By now TUTTLE has managed to pull out some sections of
    flexible ducting from the welter of mechanical offal
    behind the removed panel. It is all very complicated and
    greasy and it looks as though there is a lot more where
    that came from. TUTTLE is amazingly neat and deft as he
    works. A real pro. As he works he hums a wee tune ... yes
<b>    ... BRAZIL!!
</b><b>    
</b><b>                            TUTTLE
</b>               Well, yes ... and no. Officially,
               only Central Service operatives are
               supposed to touch this stuff ...
               Could you hold these.
<b>    
</b><b>                            TUTTLE
</b>                    (he hands Sam a bunch of
                    wires that he has detached)
               ... but, with all the new rules and
               regulations ... unncgh, c'mon, c'mon
               ... they can't get decent staff any
               more ... so ... they tend to turn a
               blind eye ... as long as I'm careful.
                    (he hands Sam a torch)
               ... Mind you, if ever they could
               prove I'd been working on their
               equipment ... well, that's a
               different matter ... up a bit with
               the torch, sir.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Sorry. wouldn't it be easier just to
               work for Central Services?
<b>    
</b><b>                            TUTTLE
</b>               Couldn't stand the pa - ah - we're
               getting warm -
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               The pace?
<b>    
</b><b>                            TUTTLE
</b>               The paperwork, couldn't stand the
               paperwork.
                    (indicating the torch)
               Over to the left please, if you don't
               mind sir. Hold it there. Yes, there's
               more bits of paper in Central
               Services than bits of pipe - read
               this, fill in that, hand in the other
               - listen, this old system of yours
               could be on fire and I couldn't even
               turn on the kitchen tap without
               filling in a 27B/6.... Bloody
               paperwork.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (mildly)
               Well I suppose one has to expect a
               certain amount
<b>    
</b><b>                            TUTTLE
</b>               Why? I came into this game for
               adventure - go anywhere, travel
               light, get in, get out, wherever
               there's trouble, a man alone. Now
               they've got the whole country
               sectioned of and you can't move
               without a form. I'm the last of a
               breed. Ah ha! Found it!
                    (he holds up a small
                    charred gadget)
               There's your problem.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Can you fix it?
<b>    
</b><b>                            TUTTLE
</b>               No. But I can bypass it with one of
               these
<b>    
</b>    He pulls another gadget from his bag.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Fine.
<b>    
</b>    The door bell. TUTTLE grabs for his gun.
<b>    
</b><b>                            TUTTLE
</b>               Are you expecting anyone?
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               No. Wait here.
<b>    
</b>    He goes out closing the immediate door and goes to the
    front door which he opens. He is confronted by two
    officious little men in boiler suits who are standing
    outside his door. Their names are SPOOR and DOWSER. DOWSER
    is SPOOR's echo.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Yes?
<b>    
</b><b>                             SPOOR
</b>               Central Services.
<b>    
</b><b>                            DOWSER
</b>               ...ervices.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Uh - what? - I ...
<b>    
</b><b>                             SPOOR
</b>               You telephone, sir.
<b>    
</b><b>                            DOWSER
</b>               ...elephoned sir.
<b>    
</b><b>                             SPOOR
</b>               Trouble with your air-conditioning.
<b>    
</b><b>                            DOWSER
</b>               ...ditioning.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (gulps)
               No, not at all. I mean, it's all
               right. It's fixed.
<b>    
</b><b>                             SPOOR
</b>               Fixed?
<b>    
</b><b>                            DOWSER
</b>               Fixed?
<b>    
</b>    They don't like that.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               I mean it fixed itself.
<b>    
</b><b>                             SPOOR
</b>               Fixed itself.
<b>    
</b><b>                            DOWSER
</b>               ...ixed itself.
<b>    
</b><b>                             SPOOR
</b>               Machines don't fix themselves.
<b>    
</b><b>                            DOWSER
</b>               ... fix themselves.
<b>    
</b><b>                             SPOOR
</b>               He's tampered with it, Dowser.
<b>    
</b><b>                            DOWSER
</b>               ...ampered. with it, Spoor.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Look, I'm sorry about your wasted
               journey
<b>    
</b>    SAM tries to close the door but SPOOR prevents this.
<b>    
</b><b>                             SPOOR
</b>                    (to Dowser)
               I think we'd better have a look.
<b>    
</b><b>                            DOWSER
</b>               ... have a look.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               No you can't.
<b>    
</b>    He is pushed aside. SPOOR followed by DOWSER, heads for
    the door behind which is MR TUTTLE. SAM is paralysed.
    SPOOR approaches the door as if it is dangerous. He turns
    the handle quietly and gives the door a little nudge. The
    door begins to swing slowly open. SAM suddenly finds
    inspiration.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Just a minute!
<b>    
</b>    SPOOR and DOWSER turn round as the door continues to swing
    open. When the door is open, behind their backs TUTTLE is
    seen holding his pistol in a two-handed grip, his knees
    slightly bent. TUTTLE freezes like that, pointing his
    pistol through the open door.

<b>                              SAM
</b>               Have you got a 27B/6?
<b>    
</b>    DOWSER looks very angry. Veins stand out on his forehead
    and he goes into what looks like some sort of fit. SPOOR
    knocks him to the ground.
<b>    
</b><b>                             SPOOR
</b>                    (to Sam)
               Now look what you've done to him.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Have you got one or haven't you?
<b>    
</b><b>                             SPOOR
</b>               Not ... as such ...
<b>    
</b>    DOWSER moans and begins to get back on his feet.
<b>    
</b><b>                             SPOOR
</b>               But we can get one.
<b>    
</b><b>                             SPOOR
</b>                    (worried about Dowser)
               It's all right, Terry, it's all
               right, everything's all right.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (ushering them to the door)
               I'm sorry, but I'm a bit of a
               stickler for paper work. Where would
               we be if we didn't follow the correct
               procedures?
<b>    
</b><b>                             SPOOR
</b>               We'll be back.
<b>    
</b><b>                            DOWSER
</b>               ...Be back.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (Closing the door on them)
               Thank you.
<b>    
</b>    SAM turns back to TUTTLE who is coming forward pocketing
    his gun.
<b>    
</b><b>                            TUTTLE
</b>               Thanks, Lowry, you're a good man in a
               tight corner.

    TUTTLE returns to work, fitting in the new by-pass gadget
    and tightening the nuts, and happily humming "BRAZIL".
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Listen .. um ... I don't want to get
               involved in any of this. But I work
               at the Ministry of Information, and I
               happen to know that Information
               Retrieval have been looking for an
               Archibald Tuttle, Heating Engineer.
               You wouldn't by any chance be -
<b>    
</b><b>                            TUTTLE
</b>                    (pleased)
               My friends call me Harry. Information
               Retrieval, eh? Interesting!
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               What do they want you or?
<b>    
</b><b>                            TUTTLE
</b>               Time to go.
<b>    
</b>    TUTTLE finishes the job and throws his tools into the bag.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Thank you very much. How much will
               it...?
<b>    
</b><b>                            TUTTLE
</b>               On the house. You did me a favor.
               Check the corridor.
<b>    
</b>    SAM goes to the front door, opens it and looks out.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               All clear.
<b>    
</b>    TUTTLE slips out and heads off down the balcony corridor.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Hey that's a dead end.
<b>    
</b>    But TUTTLE merely undoes a pre-arranged rope and swings
    Tarzan-like off the end of the balcony and across a multi-
    story void to a neighboring block. SAM is amazed - not to
    say - stunned.
<b>    
</b><b>33  INT.   RECORDS POOL                      DAY             33
</b><b>    
</b>    SAM is at his desk among all the desks. Documents are
    being delivered right, left and centre through the vacuum
    tubes. All the CLERKS are busy. The screens are devoted to
    their proper use. All this activity is explained by the
    fact the MR KURTZMAN's door is wide open. At the next desk
    is another CLERK much like SAM, his NEIGHBOUR.
<b>    
</b><b>                           NEIGHBOUR
</b>               I think Kurtzman getting is
               suspicious.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               What have we got on today?
<b>    
</b><b>                           NEIGHBOUR
</b>               Casablanca.
<b>    
</b>    KURTZMAN appears in his doorway.
<b>    
</b><b>                           KURTZMAN
</b>                    (calls out)
               Mr Lowry! Would you step in here a
               moment please.
<b>    
</b>    We go with KURTZMAN as he closes the office door behind
    him, we are now in ...
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>34  INT.   KURTZMAN'S OFFICE                 DAY             34
</b><b>    
</b>    KURTZMAN is pacing anxiously. SAM walks into the office.
    During the brief opening and closing of the door we just
    manage to hear the piano player in "Casablanca" singing,
    "... a kiss is just a kiss ...". KURTZMAN is too worried
    to notice. He is holding a piece of paper gingerly as if
    it were contagious. He waves it frantically as SAM enters.
<b>    
</b><b>                           KURTZMAN
</b>                    (hysterically)
               Thank God you're here! We're in
               terrible trouble! Look at this! Look
               at this!
<b>    
</b>    He thrusts the piece of paper at Sam.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (taking the paper)
               A cheque.
<b>    
</b><b>                           KURTZMAN
</b>               The refund for Tuttle!
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (startled)
               Tuttle?
<b>    
</b><b>                           KURTZMAN
</b>               I mean, Buttle! It's been confusion
               from the word go! He's been wrongly
               charged for Electromemorytherapy and
               someone somewhere is trying to make
               us carry the can!
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               I've never seen a Ministry cheque
               before.
<b>    
</b><b>                           KURTZMAN
</b>               We've got to get rid of it! There's
               been a balls-up somewhere, and when
               the music stops they'll jump on
               whoever's holding the cheque!
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Send it to somebody else. Send it to
               Buttle. It's his cheque.
<b>    
</b><b>                           KURTZMAN
</b>               I've tried that! Population Census
               have got him down as dormanted, the
               Central Collective Storehouse
               computer has got him down as deleted,
               and the Information Retrieval have
               got him down as inoperative ...
               Security has him down as excised.,
               Admin have him down as completed
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Hang on.
<b>    
</b>    SAM sits down at the console and punches keys. He does
    this very efficiently, muttering to himself and generally
    demonstrating an expertise which obviously leaves KURTZMAN
    way out of his depth, until -
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               He is dead.
<b>    
</b><b>                           KURTZMAN
</b>               Dead! Oh no! That's terrible! We'll
               never get rid of the damned thing!
               What are we going to do?
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Try next of kin.
<b>    
</b><b>                           KURTZMAN
</b>                    (a revelation)
               Next of kin!
<b>    
</b>    SAM punches more keys.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               There we go. Mrs. Veronica Buttle.
               What's the number on the cheque?
<b>    
</b><b>                           KURTZMAN
</b>                    (reading it)
<b>               27156789/074328/K.
</b><b>    
</b>    SAM has been efficiently punching this in.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Into memory. Now ... Central Banking
               ... Buttle, Veronica ... Deposit
<b>    
</b>    SAM rips off a print out, rapidly stuffs it and the cheque
    into a cannister and then into a vacuum tube. A job well
    done.
<b>    
</b><b>                           KURTZMAN
</b>                    (fervently)
               Please don't come back! Please don't
               come back!
<b>    
</b>    Unfortunately KURTZMAN's prayers are not answered and the.
    vacuum tube returns almost immediately. SAM opens it up.
    From the computer screen comes a voice "Play it again,
    Sam" - SAM and KURTZMAN look at the screen. We get a quick
    glimpse of Humphrey Bogart before the screen reverts to
    numbers.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Problem. She doesn't have a bank
               account.
<b>    
</b><b>                           KURTZMAN
</b>                    (hysterically)
               Well, that's it! I may as well go and
               hang myself! This sort of thing
               couldn't have happened before the
               stupid seventh tier reorganization!
               That was Simmons doing! And he and
               Jeffries always sit together at
               lunch! The bastards!
                    (he thumps his hand hard on
                    the desk top)
               Ow!
                    (He picks up the offending
                    cheque)
               Perhaps we can lose it ... behind the
               filing cabinet ... or destroy it ...
               burn it ... eat it ...
<b>    
</b>    Under this tirade SAM has begun to hum "BRAZIL" - not
    entirely sure what inspired him.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               You'd never get away with it.
               Besides, you can't do that to
               somebody's refund. It's Christmas.
               There is one more option.
<b>    
</b><b>                           KURTZMAN
</b>                    (depressed. Not really
                    believing it)
               What?
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Drive out to Mrs Buttle, give her the
               cheque, tell her to sign her name on
               the back, cash it at the corner sweet
               shop.
<b>    
</b>    KURTZMAN is dumbfounded by the audacity of this.
<b>    
</b><b>                           KURTZMAN
</b>               That's brilliant!
<b>    
</b>    SAM takes over. In no time at all he has battered away at
    the keyboard, slammed a cannister into a vacuum tube and
    received almost immediately a cannister containing a sheaf
    of different coloured papers.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               I'll do it for you. Authorise the
               cheque. What's the address?
<b>    
</b>    KURTZMAN scribbles it down for him.
<b>    
</b><b>                           KURTZMAN
</b>               Here. What do I do next?
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Call the motor pool and authorise
               personal transport.
<b>    
</b><b>                           KURTZMAN
</b>               Of course, of course. Leave it to me.
               How do I authorize a cheque?
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (separating the and blue
                    sheets)
               Here we are. Pink and blue receipts.
               All you've got to do is sign these
               and the back of the cheque.
<b>    
</b>    KURTZMAN takes out his pen and tries to sign the papers
    but his hand is giving him trouble.
<b>    
</b>
<b>                           KURTZMAN
</b>                    (exhausted after all the
                    emotion)
               Oh God! I think I've broken a bone.
               What a pathetic thing I am.

<b>                              SAM
</b>               (taking the pen from him)
               Here.

    SAM signs the cheque and receipts. A big CLOSE UP shows
    that he is scribbling KURTZMAN's signature. SAM pockets
    the papers and the pen.

<b>                              SAM
</b>               That's it.

<b>                           KURTZMAN
</b>               You are good to me Sam.

<b>                              SAM
</b>                    (leaving)
               Don't mention it. See you later.

<b>35  EXT.   MOTORWAY TUNNEL                   DAY             35
</b>    CUT to SAM at the wheel of the little car, beetling along
    in a seemingly endless, tube-like tunnel, menaced fore and
    aft by huge buses, lorries and other carriers which
    literally lift the little three-wheeler from the road
    surface and shake it by the scruff of its tiny neck.
<b>    
</b>    CUT to SAM in interior of the Messerschmidt. He is singing
    along to an obscure arrangement of "BRAZIL".
<b>    
</b><b>                             RADIO
</b>                    (plays music for a moment
                    which then fades out)
               ... We interrupt this programme to
               bring you news of a terrorist bombing
               at the ...
                    (Sam switches off)
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>36  EXT.   MOTORWAY TUNNEL                   DAY             36
</b><b>    
</b>    CUT to exterior view of Messerschmidt still merrily
    progressing in arterial tunnel. CUT to very tiny exit
    sign: Exit 49.
<b>    
</b>    CUT to SAM peering at sign.
<b>    
</b>    CUT to Messerschmidt taking the exit just as a huge lorry
    roars by.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>37  EXT.   BUTTLE FLATS                      DAY             37
</b><b>    
</b>    Beautiful utopian block of high-rise flats gleam in the
    sunlight. Pulling back we reveal it to be an architect's
    model in a protective perspex case standing in the centre
    of a decorative fountain that has long ceased to work -
    graffiti and junk are now the only decorations. In the
    background is the grim reality of the massive housing
    tower. SAM's Messerschmidt is just puling up in the shadow
    of the building which is grey, decrepid, vandalised. Huge
    conduits, pipes, and tubing frame the scene. SAM gets out
    of the car under the cool and none-too-friendly gaze of a
    few LOCALS. Self-consciously, SAM looks around him, then
    at the paper in his hand. A little group of KIDS sit
    pitching pennies against a wall. SAM goes over to them.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (super polite)
               Excuse me. Can you tell me ...
<b>    
</b>    But before he can finish, the smallest, tiny KID looks up.
<b>    
</b><b>                              KID
</b>               Eff off.
<b>    
</b>    SAM, uncomfortably, effs off.
<b>    
</b>    He is watched, at some distance, imapassively by the
    little GIRL BUTTTLE. As SAM enters the buildings one of
    the kids gets out a can of something and approaches the
    car. Another is fiddling, with a box of matches.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>38  INT.   BUTTLE FLATS                      DAY             38
</b><b>    
</b>    CUT to SAM hesitantly walking into the semi-derelict lobby
    of the big block of flats. Graffiti, vandalism are in
    evidence everywhere. He walks up to the lift. Pushes the
    button. Nothing happens. He pushes again. This time the
    lift door shudders and sparks. SAM tries to pull the doors
    apart. They jam open with a three-inch gap between them -
    still shuddering and grinding. In the sparking light, SAM
    can make out an interior crammed with garbage, junk, old
    furniture, dead cats. Yechhhh. Resignedly, he turns
    towards the stairs.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>39  INT.   CORRIDOR                          DAY             39
</b>    CUT to SAM coming breathlessly out of the stairwell. On
    the wall next to it is the number 37. Walking down the
    corridor he looks at the number and starts to knock, but
    then notices that the door is cracked open. SAM tries to
    knock on the door, but it keeps edging open and he settles
    for knocking on the door frame a bit feebly.
<b>    
</b><b>               SAM
</b>               Mrs Buttle
                    (silence)
               Uh, Mrs Buttle?
                    (silence)
<b>    
</b>    SAM stands not knowing what to do.
    SAM pushes the door a bit more open gingerly and puts
    about 65 per cent of his body into the hall of the flat.
    CUT to SAM's POV of darkish hall.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Mrs Buttle ...
<b>    
</b><b>40  INT.   BUTTLE SITTING ROOM               DAY             40
</b><b>    
</b>    CUT to SAM entering extremely tacky sitting-room shrouded
    in half-darkness. This is the same flat from which the
    FATHER was taken at the beginning of the film: the hole is
    still in the ceiling. SAM becomes aware of a woman sitting
    absolutely still at a small table by the only (still
    broken) window in the room.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Are you Mrs Buttle?
<b>    
</b>    The WOMAN nods very slightly without looking at him.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               My name is Lowry - Sam Lowry. I'm
               from the Ministry of Information.
                    (no response)
               I've come to give you a cheque.
<b>    
</b>    SAM takes the cheque out of his pocket and puts it on the
    table to tempt MRS BUTTLE into a flicker of interest but
    she fails to notice it - or him for that matter. SAM
    pushes the cheque a little way towards MRS BUTTLE but she
    does not respond.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (indicting cheque)
               It's a refund ... I'm afraid there
               was a mistake.
<b>    
</b><b>                          MRS BUTTLE
</b>               Mistake?
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (encouraged)
               Yes. Not my department ... I'm only
               records. It seems that Mr Buttle was
               overcharged by Information Retrieval.
               I don't think they usually make
               mistakes ... but, er ... I suppose
               we're all human.
<b>    
</b>    SAM looks around and sees the hole in the ceiling.
<b>    
</b>               Oh ... what happened to the ...?
<b>    
</b>    He gets nothing back.
<b>    
</b>               Actually, my bringing this here is
               rather unorthodox ... Usually any
               payments are made through the central
               computer ... but, er ... there were
               certain difficulties, and rather than
               cause delay, we thought you might
               appreciate this now ... it being
               Christmas.
<b>    
</b><b>                          MRS BUTTLE
</b>               My husband's dead, isn't he?
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Er ... I assure you Mrs Buttle, the
               Ministry is always very scrupulous
               about following up and eradicating
               error. If you have any complaints
               which you'd like to make, I'd be more
               than happy to send you the
               appropriate forms.
<b>    
</b><b>                          MRS BUTTLE
</b>               What have you done with his body?
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Um ...
<b>    
</b>    MRS BUTTLE starts to cry.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Look, I'm very sorry, but I'm afraid
               I don't know anything about it ...
               I'm really just delivering the
               cheque. Er ... If you wouldn't mind
               signing these receipts
                    (producing blue and pink
                    receipts)
               I'll go and leave you in peace.
<b>    
</b>    SAM picks up the cheque and gives it to MRS BUTTLE
    together with the receipts. MRS BUTTLE tears them up and
    throws them in his face.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Uh ...
<b>    
</b><b>                          MRS BUTTLE
</b>               He hadn't done anything ... He was
               good ... What have you done with his
               body?
<b>    
</b>    SAM looks around for an escape and sees a YOUNG BUTTLE
    standing in the doorway. The BOY is looking at him with a
    blank tearful face. Suddenly the BOY launches himself at
    SAM with terrible ferocity. SAM is knocked against the
    wall. A mirror falls off the wall and smashes on the
    floor. The BOY is all over SAM kicking and pulling his
    hair. MRS BUTTLE's reaction, however, is to try and pull
    the BOY away from SAM. By the time she succeeds, SAM is on
    his hands and knees, in pain. The BOY is crying and
    shouting, and MRS BUTTLE is loudly trying to quieten the
<b>    BOY.
</b><b>    
</b>    From SAM'S POV, a piece of broken mirror lying on the
    floor reflects the hole in the ceiling ... with JILL's
    head and shoulders framed in the hole. The moment is
    unreal for SAM in his dazed condition. The vision seems
    unreal too. JILL is staring at SAM out of the piece of
    mirror and. she's very much the GIRL from his dream now.
<b>    
</b><b>                             JILL
</b>               Are you alright?
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (mumbles)
               It's you ... it's you ...
<b>    
</b><b>                             JILL
</b>               Mrs Buttle, are you alright?
<b>    
</b>    SAM grabs at the image, i.e. at the mirror, shifting the
    angle so that the vision disappears. He looks for the
    vision on the floor but can't find it. Then he begins to
    realise the reality of what he has seen. He stands up,
    dazed and battered. MRS BUTTLE has been looking up at the
    ceiling. SAM looks up at the ceiling but there is now only
    the empty space of the hole.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Wait! Stop! Come back!!
<b>    
</b>    MRS BUTTLE is shouting. SAM rushes out of the flat.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>41  INT.   BUTTLE'S CORRIDOR                 DAY             41
</b><b>    
</b>    SAM looks both ways and heads for the stairs.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>42  INT.   BUTTLE'S STAIRCASE                DAY             42
</b><b>    
</b>    SAM runs up the stairs to the floor above and finds
    himself in -
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>43  EXT.   SIMILAR CORRIDOR                  DAY             43
</b><b>    
</b>    He runs along the corridor but has omitted to count the
    doors downstairs and now doesn't know which door to knock
    at. He hesitates. He rings the bell on what he hopes is
    the right door. The bell doesn't work. He bangs on the
    door. The door opens a crack. A malevolent eye looks at
    him.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Girl ... fair hair ...
<b>    
</b>    The door shuts firmly. SAM rushes to the next door.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>44  INT.   JILL'S FLAT                       DAY             44
</b><b>    
</b>    SAM bursts into JILL's flat. He sees the hole in the
    floor. The place looks derelict. He hears an explosion and
    looks out of a window to see his car in flames. JILL is
    apparently retreating from it across the forecourt. She is
    carrying a suitcase and bundles.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>45  INT.   STAIRCASE                         DAY             45
</b><b>    
</b>    SAM rushes down the stairs.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>46  EXT.   BLOCK OF FLATS                    DAY             46
</b><b>    
</b>    SAM charges out into the open air. JILL has disappeared.
    The Messerchmidt, however, is in flames. SAM doesn't know
    which way to turn. Spotting an old mattress lying by the
    building he grabs it and throws it over the car in an
    attempt to smother the flames. The group of CHILDREN watch
    him silently. Suddenly with a great roar, JILL's lorry
    comes round the corner at speed. SAM sees that JILL is at
    the wheel. SAM runs after the lorry.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (shouting)
               Wait! It was nothing to do with me!
<b>    
</b>    The lorry roars away. SAM dashes back to his smoldering
    three-wheeler. He flings himself into it and starts it up.
    He also roars away, except that he doesn't move... all
    three wheels have been removed. He turns round in despair
    and sees the group of CHILDREN regarding him
    expressionlessly.
<b>    
</b>    They include the little GIRL BUTTLE.
<b>    
</b>    Defeated, he slumps down against his charred vehicle. A
    shadow passes across his face. Looking up he sees GIRL
    BUTTLE standing over him.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Go away.
<b>    
</b><b>                          GIRL BUTTLE
</b>               Her name is Jill.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               What? ...Jill? Jill who? Jill who?
<b>    
</b><b>                          GIRL BUTTLE
</b>               Layton.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Jill Layton ...
                    (getting up)
               You're a very good little girl. What
               are you doing here?
<b>    
</b><b>                          GIRL BUTTLE
</b>               I'm waiting for my daddy.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (uncomprehending)
               He will be pleased when he comes
               home.
<b>    
</b>    GIRL BUTTLE doesn't answer and SAM starts to walk away.
    After a few yards, the thought strikes him: he turns back
    to look at the little GIRL BUTTLE who stands alone
    patiently in the vandalised wilderness.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>47  INT.   RECORD CLERKS POOL                DAY             47
</b><b>    
</b>    It is the end of the work day. The CLERKS are busily
    getting their coats and leaving the office. As the last
    one goes MR. KURTZMAN comes out of his private office with
    his hat and coat on. He turns out the office light. He
    sees SAM isolated in the empty room, still working at his
    computer console. Totally absorbed in what he is doing.
<b>    
</b><b>                           KURTZMAN
</b>               Oh ... Sam. I've had the transport
               pool onto me ... You don't know
               anything about a personnel
               transporter gone missing do you?
<b>    
</b>    SAM doesn't seem to hear him. On the computer screen is a
    front and side view picture of JILL. Her name and code
    number is at the top of the screen. SAM is punching up
    personal dossier information like "age", "height",
    "weight", "colour of hair", "colour of eyes",
    "distinguishing marks" etc.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (preoccupied)
               A "personnel" transporter? They've
               got it wrong. I had a personal
               transporter. I'll do the paperwork
               tomorrow -
<b>    
</b>    SAM punches up a few more categories for JILL's dossier.
<b>    
</b><b>                           KURTZMAN
</b>               Is it all right about Mrs Buttle's
               cheque?
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               I delivered it.
<b>    
</b><b>                           KURTZMAN
</b>               Can I forget it?
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Yes.
<b>    
</b>    SAM punches a few more buttons on the computer.
<b>    
</b><b>                           KURTZMAN
</b>               What a relief!
                    (on reflection)
               I shall probably have nightmares.
<b>    
</b>    At this point the word "Classified" superimposes itself
    over most of the screen and "IRQ/3" starts agitating at
    the bottom
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Damn! Blast!
<b>    
</b><b>                           KURTZMAN
</b>               What's the matter?
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               You don't happen to know how I can
               get around an IRQ/3 do you?
<b>    
</b><b>                           KURTZMAN
</b>               All information on 3rd Level Suspects
               is classified.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               I know that.
<b>    
</b><b>                           KURTZMAN
</b>               All enquiries to Information
               Retrieval. Which is hopeless, of
               course. They never tell you anything.
               But come the time they want something
               from us ...
<b>    
</b>    Throughout this verbal wallpaper SAM has been punching
    keys cancelling the CLASSIFIED overprint. He then punches
    in the code for a hard-copy print-out. JILL's two-view
    computer portrait rolls out as SAM ponders his options.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (cutting off Kurtzman)
               I've go to accept that promotion to
               get behind this, haven't I?
<b>    
</b><b>                           KURTZMAN
</b>               Yes.
                    (realising what he's
                    suggesting)
               NO! You can't! You've only just
               turned it down!
                    (thinking Sam is joking)
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               I never signed the form.
<b>    
</b><b>                           KURTZMAN
</b>               I did it for you.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               What! Shit!
<b>               
</b><b>                           KURTZMAN
</b>               It's what you wanted isn't it?
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Yes ... No ... I don't, know.
<b>    
</b>    KURTZMAN picks up JILL's print-out and glances at it. He
    grimaces and drops it back on the desk with a shudder.
<b>    
</b><b>                           KURTZMAN
</b>               Come on, before they turn the lights
               out.
<b>    
</b>    SAM nods. He turns off the machine. He stands up and
    follows KURTZMAN towards the door. The door is some
    distance away, and before they get there all the lights go
    out. KURTZMAN bumps into a desk and curses.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>48  INT.   TRANSPORT CAGE                    EVENING         48
</b><b>    
</b>    Packed tightly between other passengers SAM is busy
    drawing long flowing hair with a pencil on the computer
    print-out of JILL turning her into the DREAM GIRL. The
    transport cage rattles through its elevated tube towards a
    tower block.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>49  INT.   SAM'S CORRIDOR                    EVENING         49
</b><b>    
</b>    The transport cage arrives at the platform forming the end
    of SAM's corridor. Passengers disembark and head for
    various doors along the corridor. SAM almost fails to get
    off in time - so concentrated on JILL's picture is he.
    Looking as if he's trying to make up his mind about
    something he heads for his own front door.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>50  INT.   SAM'S FLAT                        EVENING         50
</b><b>    
</b>    SAM enters. The place is in a state of turmoil. Servicing
    panels are off the walls. Conduit, ducting, pipes, unknown
    mechanical horrors spew from the wall as if the place was
    disemboweled. SPOOR stands in the middle of it all trying
    to direct two other WORKMEN who are poring over wiring
    plans which seem to make little sense to them. DOWSER is
    not visible but there is a great deal of clunking and
    banging going on somewhere behind the wall.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               What the - ? How did you - ?
<b>    
</b><b>                             SPOOR
</b>               Emergency procedures.
<b>    
</b><b>                         DOWSER (O.S.)
</b>                    (muffled)
               ...ergency procedures.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (angrily)
               I haven't got an emergency. Get out
               of here.
<b>    
</b>    For reply SPOOR whips a small tape-recorder out of his bag
    and plays back SAM's original phone call to Central
    Services, claiming "an emergency". SPOOR shuts off his
    machine, puts back into his bag and comes out with what
    looks like a quite thin phone hook with carbon paper
    between each page. SPOOR indicates the bottom of page 1.
<b>    
</b><b>                             SPOOR
</b>               Sign here please.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               What is it?
<b>    
</b><b>                             SPOOR
</b>                    (surprised)
               It's a 27B/6, what did you think it
               was?
<b>    
</b>    SAM takes out KURTZMAN's old-fashioned fountain pen from
    his pocket, signs where indicated. SPOOR registers that
    SAM's signature has hardly penetrated through he first
    carbon let alone the other 43
<b>    
</b><b>                             SPOOR
</b>                    (sourly)
               Haven't you got a ballpoint?
<b>    
</b>    SAM resignedly starts signing all the other pages one by
    one. SPOOR realises that DOWSER's echo has gone missing.
<b>    
</b><b>                             SPOOR
</b>               Now where's he got to?
                    (shouts)
               Dowser!
<b>    
</b>    DOWSER bursts through a panel in the wall. This is the
    panel which TUTTLE had removed and replaced. A few of the
    flat's intestines have come out with DOWSER. DOWSER has
    made a find - TUTTLE's spare part.
<b>    
</b><b>                             SPOOR
</b>               What have you got there?
<b>    
</b><b>                            DOWSER
</b>                    (highly excited)
               Got there!
<b>    
</b>    DOWSER points to TUTTLE's spare part which is hanging out
    of the wall attached to rubber tube. SPOOR examines this
    closely. SAM watches alarmed. The TWO MEN go into a
    mumbling huddle.
<b>    
</b><b>                             SPOOR
</b>               Mumble ... mumble ... mumble ...
               Tuttle
<b>    
</b><b>                            DOWSER
</b>               Mumble ... Tuttle ...
<b>    
</b><b>                             SPOOR
</b>               Tuttle! ... mumble!
                    (to Sam)
               You've had that scab Tuttle here,
               haven't you?
<b>    
</b><b>                            DOWSER
</b>               ...aven't you?
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               What?
<b>    
</b><b>                             SPOOR
</b>               Who fixed your ducts?
<b>    
</b><b>                            DOWSER
</b>               ...your ducts?
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               I fixed it myself.
<b>    
</b><b>                             SPOOR
</b>               Oh yeh? Where'd you get this from eh
                    (he holds up Tuttle's spare
                    part)
               out yer nostril?
<b>    
</b><b>                            DOWSER
</b>               ...Yer nostril?
<b>    
</b><b>                             SPOOR
</b>               Central Services don't take kindly to
               sabotage!
<b>    
</b><b>                            DOWSER
</b>               ...sabotage!
<b>    
</b>    SPOOR and DOWSER and the other workmen gather up their
    tools - put them in the bag, grab everything else that
    belongs to them and are leaving. SPOOR grabs the form-book
    out of SAM's hands, rips out the last page, thrusts that
    page at SAM, shoves the book into his bag. The WORKMEN
    begin leaving the flat.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Hang on! Wait a minute! You can't
               just go and leave it like this!
<b>    
</b><b>                             SPOOR
</b>                    (mock innocent)
               Why not? All you've got to do is blow
               yer nose and fix it, haven't you?
<b>    
</b><b>                            DOWSER
</b>               ...ven't you?
<b>    
</b><b>                             SPOOR
</b>                    (leaving)
               You're putting your talents to very
               odd use Mr Lowry - yes, odd use - to
               pit wits against Central Services -
<b>    
</b><b>                            DOWSER
</b>               ...sod you, stupid twit.
<b>    
</b>    They go, slamming the door behind hem, leaving SAM in the
    ruins of his flat.
<b>    
</b>    SAM stands in the maimed sitting-room. Wall panels are
    off. Tubes, ducting wires etc. spill out into the room
    like greasy intestines. SAM more or less collapses onto a
    couch. He stares at the ceiling. The room is gently
    hiccoughing and belching around him. He stares at the
    print-out of JILL's face. Slowly it dissolves into the
<b>    DREAM GIRL.
</b><b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>51  EXT.   CONDUIT FOREST                    NIGHT           51
</b><b>    
</b>    DREAM GIRL's face fills screen. The camera pulls back to
    reveal that she is separated from us by a tangled forest
    of conduit/ducting-like vines. SAM is struggling through
    the vines, which grab at him, entwine and entangle him.
    Finally bursting free he reaches out for the GIRL hovering
    before him, But as he embraces her she dissolves in smoke
    and he plummet into a void beneath his feet.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>52  EXT.   CLOUDS                            NIGHT           52
</b><b>    
</b>    CUT to SAM plummeting down through dense clouds, his cape
    twisting around him. Somehow he manages to wrestle it
    clear of his body. Gripping the corners he whips the cape
    up and over his head. The wind catches it and fills it out
    until it acts as a parachute slowing SAM's descent.
    Suddenly the clouds thin out and SAM can see below him.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>53  EXT.   STRANGE LANDSCAPE                 ANTI-DAY        53
</b><b>    
</b>    SAM is heading down towards a barren landscape. Strange
    mounds dot the barrenness - they ooze smoke and the
    occasional flame. Near one of the mounds are two long
    lines of shrouded FIGURES being forced into two giant
    cages, suspended beneath two great misshapen balloons. The
    black-robed FORCES OF DARKNESS (FOD) surround the
    PRISONERS, relentlessly herding them towards the cages.
    The entire scene is strangely coloured by unearthly light.
    The sky is blood red and where the sun should be is a
    black disc. SAM descends on his cape-parachute.
<b>    
</b>    CUT to PRISONERS in their grey shrouds, shuffling towards
    the jaws of the brutal cages. They are defeated,
    destroyed, without hope. The FOD prod and whip them
    forward. One of the FOD raises his spear to force a
    stumbling PRISONER to his feet but stops with the spear
    raised above his head. He has seen something. Other FODS
    turn to see what it is. CUT to SAM landing on the beach -
    a short distance away. The PRISONERS stop and look up. We
    see their faces clearly for the first time. One of them is
    MRS BUTTLE. Others are PEOPLE SAM saw in the flats, and
    the KIDS. SAM recognises them. He is slightly taken aback.
    A look of determination crosses his face. He draws the
    sword. EVERYONE is frozen in place. SAM starts forward.
    But he is stopped by a violent tremor as the earth begins
    to tremble and shake. EVERYONE looks terrified. With a
    mighty roar a crack opens up in the ground between SAM and
    the OTHERS. Brilliant rays of light shaft upwards from the
    opening. And then, with a maniacal shriek, the large black
    flapping thing shoots out of the crevasse and streaks high
    into the sky. SAM hesitates and turns to look down into
    the light. There, under several meters of the earth's
    crust are fluffy white clouds darting about in a beautiful
    blue sky. SAM is delighted but as he looks up he is frozen
    in his tracks by an enormous FIGURE that straddles the
    crevasse. This terrifying CREATURE stands over 12 feet
    high. He is encased in a frightening concoction of ancient
    Japanese armour which seems on closer examination to he
    made of computer parts. His face is hidden behind a
    horrific steel mask. It is the GIANT SAMURAI WARRIOR that
    was pushing the drawer closed in the Storeroom Of
    Knowledge. In his hand is an evil-looking spear. SAM is
    unsure which way to turn. The GREY PRISONERS are being
    loaded into the cages with more speed. He turns to face
    the GIANT WARRIOR. As SAM steps forward the GIANT stands
    ominously still. Then very slowly he raises his spear in
    an almost religious gesture. POOF! He vanishes. As he does
    the light from the day is cut off. Looking down, SAM sees
    that he crevasse has vanished as well. Maniacal laughter
    from the flapping black thing makes SAM look up to see the
    ballooned cage packed with GREY PRISONERS rise up from the
    ground and begin to float away escorted by the Black
    flapping Thing. SAM rushes after it grabbing one of the
    trailing ropes. But as he is hoisted into the air it is
    severed by the FODS. He tumbles to the ground. Looking
    around he sees that, for some reason, the second ballooned
    cage is still tethered nearby. SAM rushes over to it and
    begins chopping the tethers away.
    The cage bobbles ungainlily as SAM cuts the last
    restraining rope. Grabbing hold he is pulled upwards, but
    before he can reach the cage something clutches his leg
    halting his progress. As he struggles his other leg is
    caught. He is being pulled back by two giant hands.
    Looking down he can see that from the top of one of the
    smoking mounds a head and two giant arms protrude. The
    face looks like MR KURTZMAN. SAM desperately clings on to
    the rope as he struggles with the restraining hands.
<b>    
</b><b>                   MR KURTZMAN OF THE MOUND
</b>               Don't go! It's a trap! She's not what
               she seems.
<b>    
</b>    SAM kicks and strains but the hands hold firm.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>54  INT.   SAM'S FLAT                        NIGHT           54
</b><b>    
</b>    SAM wakes up. His feet are entangled in some wiring and
    ducting. He is still in his devastated sitting room. As he
    untangles himself the door bell rings. It takes a moment
    for SAM to recognise it as the door bell. Annoyed and
    still disturbed by the dream he gets up and goes to the
    door. He opens it. In bursts a GIRL dressed in a silly
    bell-boy costume with lots of glitter, net stockings and
    big-bowed tap dancing shoes. She launches into a terrible
    song and dance routine.
<b>    
</b>                        GIRL (singing)
               Mrs Ida Lowry requests the pleasure
                 of your companyyyy
                 at her apartment tonight,
               from eight thirtyyyy
                 midnight
               to celebrate the completion
                 of her recent cosmetic surgeryyyy
               The guest of honour will be
                 Mr Conrad Helpmann,
               Dep. Under Minister of State
                 for Public Information,
               R.S.V.P. by singing telegram.
<b>    
</b>    SAM and the GIRL stand looking at each other uneasily for
    a moment.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Er ... Thanks ...
<b>    
</b><b>                             GIRL
</b>               It's reply paid.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Oh ...
                    (he sings uncertainly)
               Thank you very much, mother, but
               actually -
<b>    
</b><b>                             GIRL
</b>               You don't have to sing it.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Oh, right ...
<b>    
</b>    The GIRL begins to dance again - but this time in a rather
    strange strangled fashion.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (he looks at his watch)
               Aren't you a bit late? - the party
               started half an hour ago.
<b>    
</b><b>                             GIRL
</b>               Yes, I know. It's the backlog,
               everybody complains. Was it all right
               otherwise?
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Yes, it was ... very nice ... thank
               you.
<b>    
</b><b>                             GIRL
</b>               Do you mind if I use your bathroom?
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>55  INT.   MOTHER' S CORRIDOR                NIGHT           55
</b><b>    
</b>    SAM rings the doorbell to his mother's flat. He is
    wearing. an unstylish tuxedo and bow tie - obviously his
    only dress outfit. The door is opened by a LIVERIED FLUNKY
    who's about to speak when an attractive 40-year old
    woman's face appears over his shoulder and addresses SAM
    over the threshold.
<b>    
</b><b>                             WOMAN
</b>               Sam, I'm so glad you came. Do come
               in.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>56  INT.   MOTHER'S FLAT                     NIGHT           56
</b><b>    
</b>    SAM steps inside, where the flunky proceeds to search him.
    The place is full of sleek people - smartly but less
    formally dresses than SAM. It is an elegant baroque room -
    lavishly appointed but still violated by the ubiquitous
    Central Service ducts that thrust through antique
    tapestries and gilt mirrors with little regard for
    aesthetics or the interior decorator's feelings.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (bewildered)
               Mother? Is that you?
<b>    
</b><b>                            MOTHER
</b>                    (taking his arm - looking
                    slightly askance at his
                    clothes)
               Of course. Isn't it wonderful? The
               bandages came of this afternoon. Come
               and join the fun. Everybody's here.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Is Mr Helpmann here?
<b>    
</b><b>                            MOTHER
</b>               Yes he is - he wants to talk to you.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               I want to talk to him.
<b>    
</b>    SAM pushes away the FLUNKY who is by now passing a metal
    detector over him.
<b>    
</b><b>                            MOTHER
</b>               It seems you're the first person ever
               to turn down a promotion. He thinks
               you should see a doctor.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Actually, I've decided ...
<b>    
</b>    DR JAFFE hoves into view.
<b>    
</b><b>                            MOTHER
</b>               Oh, Louis! You know Sam.
<b>    
</b>    DR JAFFE is no longer suave. He has been transformed by
    drink and success. Mostly by drink.
<b>    
</b><b>                           DR JAFFE
</b>                    (as high as a kite)
               Can you believe it?! Just me and my
               little knife! Snip - snip - slice -
               slice - Can you believe it?
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (repelled)
               Congratulations ...
<b>    
</b><b>                           DR JAFFE
</b>               And this is just the beginning!!
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Really?
<b>    
</b><b>                           DR JAFFE
</b>               Chirst yes, you've seen her with her
               clothes off. Faces are a doddle
               compared to tits and arse.
                    (explains)
               No hairline.
<b>    
</b><b>                            MOTHER
</b>                    (primly)
               Really, Louis.
<b>    
</b>    A handsome young piece of BEEFCAKE delivers a drink to
<b>    MOTHER.
</b><b>    
</b><b>                           BEEFCAKE
</b>               I've been looking everywhere for you,
               Ida.
<b>    
</b>    The BEEFCAKE takes MOTHER away.
<b>    
</b><b>                           DR JAFFE
</b>               Ah, dear boy ... And what do you
               think of your mother now?
<b>    
</b>                      VOICE (off camera)
               It will never last.
<b>    
</b>    SAM and DR JAFFE turn to see who is speaking. It is DR
    CHAPMAN a tall, pipe-smoking, professional-looking gent.
<b>    
</b><b>                           DR JAFFE
</b>                    (a trifle haughtily)
               Excuse me, Dr Chapman, did you say
               something?
<b>    
</b><b>                          DR CHAPMAN
</b>               That technique ... I've tried it. A
               nice effect. But highly unstable. In
               six months she'll look like Grandma
               Moses.
<b>    
</b>    SAM wishing to escape from this bitchery turns away but
    suddenly freezes - the reflection in the large wall mirror
    next to him is not that of the party guests - but of the
    GREY PRISONERS in his dream - they are massed in the room
    looking pleadingly towards him.
<b>    
</b><b>                           DR JAFFE
</b>                    (unsuave again)
               Now see here, Chapman. At least mine
               don't look like they've been mugged.
<b>    
</b>    Through the GREY PRISONERS pushes MRS TERRAIN.
<b>    
</b><b>                          MRS TERRAIN
</b>                    (calls)
               Sam!
<b>    
</b>    SAM turns around to see her pushing through the party
    guests.
<b>    
</b>    MRS TERRAIN is limping and is even more heavily swathed in
    bandages than the last time.
<b>    
</b>    DR CHAPMAN hastily moves away as MRS TERRAIN comes up. She
    claims SAM, taking his arm.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (looking at her worriedly)
               Whatever happened to you?
<b>    
</b><b>                          MRS TERRAIN
</b>               There was a slight complication. Dr.
               Chapman says it often happens with a
               delicate skin like mine. Nothing to
               worry about. He's promised me I'll
               have these bandages off in a ...
<b>                               
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (trying to disengage)
               Actually, there's someone I want to
               meet ...
<b>    
</b><b>                          MRS TERRAIN
</b>                    (roguishly)
               I know, I know ...!
<b>               
</b>    She drags SAM through the party and we arrive at her
    daughter, SHIRLEY, who is, of course, a wallflower.
<b>    
</b><b>                          MRS TERRAIN
</b>               Here we are! I'm going to leave you
               two lovebirds in peace.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               I ... uh ...
<b>    
</b>    But he is alone with SHIRLEY, standing at the entrance to
    his MOTHER's embarrassingly rampant boudoir style bedroom.
    In amongst the diaphanous curtains enclosing the bed
    MOTHER is playing hide and seek with a YOUNG STUD.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Can I get you a drink, Shirley?
<b>    
</b>    SHIRLEY looks at him terrified.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Look ... Shirley ... your mother ...
               and my mother ... they seem to have
               got the idea ... I mean, I'm terribly
               flattered, of course, but, um, the
               thing is, I don't want you to be
               under any false ...
<b>                               
</b><b>                            SHIRLEY
</b>                    {struggling into speech
                    shyly)
               It's ... it's ... all right ... I
               don't like you either ...
<b>    
</b>    This isn't what SAM expected. He smiles weakly at her.
<b>    
</b>                      VOICE (off camera)
               Sam!
<b>    
</b>    SAM turns round, to see JACK LINT a few paces away.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Hello, Jack!
<b>    
</b><b>                             JACK
</b>               You remember Alison?
<b>    
</b>    He indicates his cute blonde perfect junior executive's
<b>    WIFE
</b><b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Hello, Alison. You look different.
<b>    
</b><b>                            ALISON
</b>               Well, I'm two years older.
<b>    
</b><b>                             JACK
</b>               And she's been to Dr. Jaffe!
<b>    
</b>    ALISON locks displeased.
<b>    
</b><b>                             JACK
</b>                    {winking at Sam)
               She doesn't like me telling anyone
               but she's pleased as anything really.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Er, I knew you looked different.
<b>                               
</b><b>                             JACK
</b>               Remember how they used to stick out?
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               What? - Oh, yes - vividly. I used to
               wonder if they were real.
<b>    
</b><b>                            ALISON
</b>               What, my ears?
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Your ears?
<b>    
</b><b>                             JACK
</b>               Dr. Jaffe has pinned her ears back.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (covering up hopelessly)
               Quite, absolutely - I always thought
               they were false.
<b>    
</b><b>                             JACK
</b>                    (looking past Sam)
               Mr Helpmann!
<b>    
</b>    SAM spins round and sees a very pleasant-looking
    distinguished OLD MAN moving in their direction. He is in
    a wheelchair.
<b>    
</b><b>                           HELPMANN
</b>               Hello, Jack.
<b>    
</b><b>                             JACK
</b>               You remember my wife ... Alis -
<b>    
</b><b>                           HELPMANN
</b>               Of course. Barbara isn't it? How are
               you?
<b>                            ALISON
</b>               Um ...
<b>    
</b><b>                             JACK
</b>                    (instantly. Conveying to
                    Alison that she mustn't
                    object)
               Barbara's very well, thank you, sir.
               How are you?
<b>    
</b><b>                           HELPMANN
</b>               Fine, thank you. Hello, Sam. Ida said
               you might be here. Have you got a
               minute?
                    (to Jack)
               Would you excuse us?
<b>    
</b>    JACK is taken aback, envious and eager to please.
<b>    
</b><b>                             JACK
</b>               Of course .... of course ... Come on
               Alison - Barbara
<b>    
</b>    JACK propels his WIFE away.
<b>    
</b>    HELPMANN I need your help, Sam.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>57  INT.   BATHROOM                          NIGHT           57
</b><b>    
</b>    It's the sort of bathroom you would expect of MOTHER, an
    adjunct to her boudoir. The pink or purple lavatory is in
    the process of flushing, while SAM holds MR HELPMANN
    vertical, grasping him under the armpits, while MR
    HELPMANN is zipping his fly.
<b>    
</b><b>                           HELPMANN
</b>               Thanks very much Sam.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               That's all right Mr Helpmann. Glad to
               help.
<b>    
</b>    He is lowering HELPMANN into the wheelchair.
<b>    
</b><b>                           HELPMANN
</b>               If I can help you ...
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (broaching the subject)
               Well, I ...
<b>    
</b>    In maneuvering HELPMANN SAM clumsily knocks over one of
    the pretty pots which fussily decorate MOTHER's bathroom
    shelf. A thin layer of powder is spread over the wash-
    stand.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Sorry ...
<b>    
</b><b>                           HELPMANN
</b>               Your father and I were very close. Of
               course Jeremiah was senior to me but
               we were close friends ... especially
               after the bombing
                    (he indicates his legs)
               and I
                    (chuckles)
               keep his name alive at the office
               every day.
<b>    
</b>    With his finger HELPMANN is tracing letters in the
    powdered surface.
<b>    
</b><b>                           HELPMANN
</b>               It's as though he's there speaking to
               me - "'ere I am, J.H.!" The ghost in
               the machine.
<b>    
</b>    We see that HELPMANN has traced the letters EREIAMJH in
    the powder.
<b>    
</b><b>                           HELPMANN
</b>               I know he would have wanted me to
               help you ... And I promised your
               mother I'd take you onto the team at
               information Retrieval. But I gather
               that ...
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Mr Helpmann. I've changed my mind.
               I'd like to accept the transfer - am
               I too late?
<b>    
</b><b>                           HELPMANN
</b>               Too late? That's for me to say.
<b>                               
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Well ... well, I ...
<b>    
</b>    HELPMANN puts out his hand. SAM takes it.
<b>    
</b><b>                           HELPMANN
</b>               Welcome to Information Retrieval!
<b>    
</b>    HELPMANN blows away the spilled powder and EREIAMJH with
    it.
<b>    
</b>Scene 58 deleted                               Scene 58 deleted

<b>59  INT. INFORMATION RETRIEVAL LOBBY         DAY             59
</b><b>    
</b>    CUT to WIDE SHOT of massive imposing lobby - much like the
    Records lobby - but this one is very austere. No crowds.
    No statues. No decoration. Not even the ever-present
    security checks. Impressive. And a bit unnerving. Framed
    in the doorway is a lone TINY FIGURE. CUT to CLOSE UP.
    It's SAM. He hesitates and then enters. CUT to video
    screen. The video camera follows SAM across the lobby -
    til he stops in tight profile at Reception Desk. We tilt
    up revealing SAM standing facing us just beyond the
    monitor which is on the desk.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (diffidently to the porter)
               My name is Sam Lowry. I have to
               report to Mr Warren.
<b>    
</b><b>                            PORTER
</b>                    (looking down his nose at
                    Sam's unsleek clerk's suit
                    and then handing him an
                    I.D. badge)
               Thirtieth floor, sir. You're
               expected.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Er, don't you want to search me?
<b>    
</b><b>                            PORTER
</b>               No, sir.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (taken aback. Reaching into
                    his pocket)
               My I.D. cards.
<b>    
</b><b>                            PORTER
</b>               No need, sir
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (nonplussed)
               But I could be anybody.
<b>    
</b><b>                            PORTER
</b>               No you couldn't, sir. This is
               Information Retrieval.
                    (indicating to the right)
               the lift's arrived, sir.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>60  INT.   30TH FLOOR CORRIDOR               DAY             60
</b><b>    
</b>    SAM steps out of the lift.The lift doors close. SAM looks
    up and down the corridor hearing nothing. Silence. Then
    he, and we, begin to hear a sound. It is a curious
    whirring murmuring tummeling sound, and it seems to be
    growing closer. Suddenly a scrum of PEOPLE swings into
    view around a corner at the far end of the rather long
    corridor. At the centre of the scrum is a TALL MAN with a
    magisterial expression and an air of eternal bustle. This
    is MR WARREN. He is surrounded by the EXPEDITERS who are
    competing for his attention with bits of paper and bits of
    sentences. MR WARREN is snapping out decisions. Satisfied
    EXPEDITERS drop out of the scrum at intervals,
    disappearing one at a time through one of the many doors
    which line both sides of the corridor.The scrum doesn't
    get any smaller because new EXPEDITERS dart out of other
    doors and join the milling MOB. The whole circus is coming
    by SAM at the rate of knots. The sound it makes breaks
    down into something like this.
<b>    
</b><b>                          EXPEDITER 1
</b>                    (waving pager)
               Mr Warren, this order ...
<b>    
</b><b>                          EXPEDITER 2
</b>                    (waving same)
               Mr Warren ...
<b>    
</b><b>                          EXPEDITER 3
</b>                    (ditto)
               About this invoice ... Victim's list
<b>               ...
</b><b>    
</b><b>                            WARREN
</b>                    (dealing on all sides)
               Yes ... No ... send that back ...
               wrong department ... of course ... of
               course not ... yes ... no ... maybe.
<b>    
</b>    CUT to SAM watching this caravanserai with awe as it
    starts pass him.
<b>    
</b><b>                          EXPEDITER 4
</b>               ... about these requisitions ...
<b>    
</b><b>                          EXPEDITER 5
</b>               Mr Warren ... EX/27 has 15 suspects
               still outstanding.
<b>    
</b><b>                          EXPEDITER 6
</b>               ... a decision, Mr Warren ...
<b>    
</b><b>                            WARREN
</b>               ... cancel that ... okay ... put half
               as terrorists, the rest as victims
               ... yes ... yes ... no ... definitely
               no ...
<b>    
</b>    SAM doesn't have the nerve to jump into this. The scrum
    sweeps by and fades away along the corridor, and finally
    disappearing around the corner at the other end. SAM
    follows. Silence has descended again.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>61  INT.   CORRIDOR                          DAY             61
</b><b>    
</b>    SAM gets to the corner of the corridor and finds a similar
    corridor at right angles. He hesitates and continues. Then
    he starts to hear the sound again. It is coming up from
    behind. MR WARREN has circumnavigated the building. The
    same sort of business is being enacted at the same pace.
    As the scrum reaches SAM he gathers his nerve and jumps
    right in beside WARREN, and keeps going.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (in a hurry)
               I'm Lowry, Mr Warren ... Sam Lowry.
<b>    
</b><b>                            WARREN
</b>                    (putting arm around Sam)
               Ah. Lowry ... yes.
                    (still dealing with
                    Expediters)
               ... no, cancel that ... glad to have
               you aboard ... yes ... no ... don't
               be ridiculous Jenkins ... Yes, yes,
               yes ... you'll like it up here ...
               send that back ... we've got a crack
               team of ... are they kidding? ...
               decision makers ... No, in triplicate
               ... I'm expecting big things ... two
               copies to Finance ... of you ... send
               that to Security ... uh, uh, uh.
                    (poring over forms)
               Uh, don't let Progress see this ...
               between you and me, Lowry, this ...
               no, no ... department ... tell
               Records to get stuffed ... is about
               to be upgraded and ...
<b>    
</b>    WARREN suddenly pivots around, swinging SAM 240 degrees in
    the direction they came from plus a bit.
<b>    
</b><b>                            WARREN
</b>               Ah, here we are!
                    (they are standing facing a
                    door - one of the hundreds
                    of identical doors lining
                    these corridors)
               What do you think?
<b>    
</b>    The door says: OFFICER DZ/015.
<b>    
</b>    SAM has no idea what he ought to say.
<b>    
</b><b>                            WARREN
</b>                    (solemnly)
               Your very own number... on your very
               own door ... and behind that door
                    (he turns the knob and
                    opens the door)
               ... your very own office.
               Congratulations, DZ/015, welcome to
               the team.
<b>    
</b>    WARREN whirls off in a flurry of paperwork and EXPEDITERS
    leaving SAM standing dumfounded at the entrance to his
    office.
<b>    
</b>    CUT to SAM's POV of the office. It is about four feet
    wide. A small blacked-out window high on the far wall is
    bisected by what looks like a recently constructed side
    wall. The room is bare except for a chair and a desk which
    is also bisected by the new wall. Pneumatic tubes hang
    from the ceiling. SAM slowly enters the room.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>62  INT.   SAM'S OFFICE                      DAY             62
</b><b>    
</b>    SAM looks lost ... disoriented. He doesn't know where to
    begin because there's nothing to begin with. He squeezes
    in behind his desk and for want of anything else to do
    starts arranging his "in" and "out" baskets. There in his
    "in" basket is one of the ubiquitous executive toys -
    gaily wrapped with a card from HELPMANN - Merry Xmas &
    Welcome. SAM can't quite believe. He returns to lining up
    his pencils, placing a couple of bocks (phone books)
    against the wall on the left extreme of his desk. SAM
    turns his attention away from the books when suddenly they
    both fall over with a "plop". Puzzled, he stands the books
    up again, turns his eyes away and "plop". Same result.
    Intrigued, a bit exasperated, SAM carefully, and before
    his very eyes, the desk begins to disappear into the wall,
    and "plop", the books topple over. Puzzled, SAM grabs hold
    of the desk and begins to try to pull it back through the
    wall. The desk moves back an inch or so, but then stops,
    somehow held stubbornly. SAM grits his teeth, reallllly
    pulls, grimacing a bit, but the desk won't budge.
    Intrigued, SAM gets up, goes around his desk and heads for
    the door.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>63  INT.   CORRIDOR                          DAY             63
</b><b>    
</b>    Cut to SAM coming out of his office, turning right and
    walking to the next door, the nameplate of which reads:
<b>    OFFICER DV/048.
</b><b>    
</b>    As is his custom, SAM opens the door without knocking.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b>63a INT.   LIME'S OFFICE                     DAY            63a
<b>    
</b>    CUT to SAM'S POV. Here is an office much like his. It's
    the other half of his room bisected by the partition wall.
    The other half of his desk is occupied by a slimy looking,
    round-headed little JUNIOR EXECUTIVE wholly occupied with
    trying to drag a bit more of the desk into his office. He
    is unaware of SAM.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Hello.
<b>    
</b>    LIME startled, lets go of his desk and vents his
    irritation on SAM whom he mistakes for someone else.
<b>    
</b><b>                             LIME
</b>               No, you can't have any more chairs!
               There's only one left in here now,
               and I need that to sit on!
                    (realizing his mistake)
               Oh ... er, sorry. Who are you?
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Sam Lowry.
<b>    
</b><b>                             LIME
</b>                    (becoming unctuous)
               Ah, yes, you're the new boy from next
               door, ha ha!
                    (he advances toward Sam
                    with hand out to shake.
                    Shaking hands)
               My name's Lime. Harvey Lime. Welcome
               to Expediting.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Ah.
                    (he pauses - looking
                    around)
               Would you mind if I borrowed your
               computer console?
<b>    
</b><b>                             LIME
</b>               What?
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               I'll bring it back in ten minutes.
<b>    
</b><b>                             LIME
</b>               You want to take my console into your
               office?
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Yes.
<b>    
</b><b>                             LIME
</b>                    (after a moment's
                    consideration)
               I'll tell you what .... You tell me
               what and I'll do it for. I'm a bit of
               a whizz on this thing.
                    (indicates computer
                    console)
<b>    
</b>    SAM hesitates, but sees that there's no other way.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (taking print-out on Jill
                    from his pocket)
               Alright. There's someone I want to
               check out. A woman called Gillian
               Layton.
<b>    
</b><b>                             LIME
</b>                    (leering)
               A woman eh? I see.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (trying to ignore this)
               I know her age and distinguishing
               marks. But I need an address or a
               place of work or something
<b>    
</b><b>                             LIME
</b>                    (continuing to leer)
               This is your dream girl, is it?
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (taken aback)
               What?
                    (recovering)
               Look, let me use the console for a
               few minutes.
<b>    
</b><b>                             LIME
</b>                    (trying to be jocular)
               You must be joking -
                    (entirely unconvincing)
               When there's a woman involved -
               there's no stopping me. Now, let me
               have that sheet.
<b>    
</b>    He takes Jill's print-out sheet from SAM and begins to
    punch the keys laboriously with one finger. Nothing
    happens.
<b>    
</b><b>                             LIME
</b>               Sod it, it's broken!
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               You haven't switched it on.
<b>    
</b><b>                             LIME
</b>               Oh - yes. Look you're putting me off,
               standing there! Go back to your
               office and I'll give you a knock when
               I've finished.
<b>    
</b>    SAM hesitates, but goes.
<b>    
</b><b>                             LIME
</b>               Go on. I'm not going to elope with
               her.
<b>    
</b>    SAM exits.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>64  INT.   SAM'S OFFICE                      DAY             64
</b><b>    
</b>    SAM is sitting in his office listening to the protracted
    one finger exercise which is going on next door. He stares
    dumbly at the shining, absolutely useless, executive toy.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>65  EXT.   ICY SEA                           ANTI-DAY        65
</b><b>    
</b>    The CAMERA skims along over an icy sea. This is SAM'S POV
    as he wings his way over the water with his new gleaming
    wings. In the distance rises a strange massive ship.
<b>    
</b>    As he gets closer we can see that the snip is listing
    heavily to one side. In fact it is barely afloat. Closer
    still, it becomes apparent that the ship is made of stone.
    Dark, evil, grey blocks of granite form not only the hull,
    but the super-structures and smokestacks. It looks like a
    massive medieval fortress gone to sea. The screen is
    engulfed in stone. The CAMERA heads up the side of the
    ship. Higher and higher we climb - past course after
    course of mammoth stones. Reaching the first deck, we
    continue upwards. There appears to be no entrance. SAM is
    looking frustrated and angry. But then he spots an
    opening. A few stones have come loose - one of them juts
    out forming a ledge. As the cage passes, SAM jumps and
    managed to gain a foothold on the outcropping. Squeezing
    thru the gap in the rocks, he makes his way thru a dark
    passage. Emerging from the opening he finds himself
    teetering over an enormous abyss formed by the outer hull
    and the inner stone core of the ship. Great stone ribs
    curve downwards thru the darkness broken only by narrow
    shafts of brilliant light streaming from occasional cracks
    and fissures in the stone core. For a brief moment SAM
    gets a glimpse of blue sky thru one of the openings but
    his attention is distracted by a distant moan. Huddled far
    below him at the bottom of the dark abyss are hundreds of
    grey shrouded PRISONERS. Their moan blends with the creaks
    and groans of the stones as the ship slowly wallows back
    and forth. Suddenly a great boom resounds throughout the
    ship. SAM is unsure where it comes from. And then another
    boom reverberates about him. He has to steady himself as
    the ship quivers from the noise. Another book. He clutches
    at the wall.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>66  INT.   SAM'S OFFICE                      DAY            66
</b><b>    
</b>    SAM's head is leaning against the wall of his office. The
    boom repeats. LIME is knocking on the other side. SAM
    leaps up. As he leaves his office he looks back to see the
    desk creep through to LIME's office a little bit more.
<b>    
</b><b>67  INT.   LIME'S OFFICE                     DAY             67
</b>    SAM enters. LIME is standing, proudly holding out a sheet
    of paper.
<b>    
</b><b>                             LIME
</b>               Computers are my forte.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (reading)
               Gillian Layton, age twenty three,
               eyes, blue, hair, black, weight, one
               hundred and twenty-one pounds,
               distinguishing marks, blemish on
               right shoulder, scar on left elbow
<b>    
</b>    He stops, having come to the end. He looks at the other
    side of the paper but there's nothing there.
<b>    
</b>    Is this all you got?
<b>    
</b><b>                             LIME
</b>               It's a start isn't it.
<b>                              SAM
</b>                    (disbelieving)
               But I already knew this!
<b>               
</b><b>                             LIME
</b>               Best to take it slowly where some
               women are concerned.
<b>    
</b>    SAM sits on LIME's chair and deftly punches the computer
    keys.
<b>    
</b><b>                             LIME
</b>               Hey - that's my desk!
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (working quickly)
               Gillian Layton - Suspect S/5173.
               Truck driver! All enquiries,
               reference officer 412/L - Room 5001.
                    (switching off the machine
                    and getting up)
               That's what I wanted to know. Thank
               you very much.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>68  INT.   CORRIDOR                          DAY            68
</b><b>    
</b>    SAM heads off down corridor. WARREN & CO. appear.
<b>    
</b><b>                            WARREN
</b>               Ah, Lowry, glad I caught you ...
                    (he continues to deal with
                    expediters in between
                    dealing with Sam)
               No, send it back for ... Are you
               settling down? ... I want this order
               rescinded ... There's a query on a
               personnel transporter you took out
               from the pool ... Tell them no, tell
               them yes, ... or was it a personnel
               carrier you took out from
               transportation ... Send that up to
               Security ... Some kind of eight-wheel-
               half-track, was it? ... Tell him I
               want to see him ... Send round the
               paperwork, Lowry ... Arrange a
               conference on that one ... Anyway,
               tidy it up, Lowry, there's a good
               chap - get a new suit. Did you want
               the lift?
<b>    
</b>    The cavalcade is passing the lifts. SAM backs away into
    the open lift. The cavalcade passes on out of sight. The
    lift contains a CHARLADY with a bucket and mop. She
    remains in the lift as SAM joins her.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>69  INT.   THE LIFT                          69
</b><b>    
</b>    SAM presses the button for the 50th floor. The lift doors
    close on him and the CHARLADY. From somewhere far away
    there is the groaning shriek of a man in pain. SAM glances
    around the lift. There appears to be an air conditioning
    vent in the ceiling.
<b>    
</b>    SAM glances enquiringly at the CHARLADY who merely smiles
    at him. Another scream is heard.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               What's that?
<b>    
</b>    The CHARLADY smiles again.
<b>    
</b>               Doesn't that disturb you?
<b>    
</b>    The CHARLADY fiddles with something in her ears and pulls
    out a pair of wax earplugs.
<b>    
</b><b>                           CHARLADY
</b>               Beg your pardon?
<b>    
</b>    The lift arrives.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>70  INT.   50TH FLOOR CORRIDOR               DAY             70
</b><b>    
</b>    The lift arrives. SAM steps out. The CHARLADY remains in
    the lift. The doors close. SAM heads down surgically clean
    white-tiled corridor.
<b>    
</b>    Passing a white-coated TECHNICIAN monitoring what appears
    to be electric meters, SAM comes to a door with 5001.
    Above the door a red light is glowing. SAM knocks. The red
    light goes out and a green light comes on. SAM enters.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b>71  INT.   ROOM 500l                         DAY             71
<b>    
</b>    Inside there is a connecting door to he next door room but
    the only person in the immediate room is a pleasant-
    looking FEMALE typist, wearing headphones, chewing gum and
    typing with great facility. SAM approaches the TYPIST who,
    busily typing, twinkles a greeting (mimed) and silently
    mouths the words ...
<b>    
</b><b>                            TYPIST
</b>               It won't be long now.
                    (she carries on typing)
<b>                    
</b>    SAM nods, and stands quietly by her. He can hear tiny
    sounds coming through her headphones. He looks down at the
    piece of paper in the typewriter. He reacts a bit
    strangely, perhaps even winces. We see he close up of the
    words being struck crisply on paper.
<b>    
</b><b>                         ON TYPEWRITER
</b>               AHHHH, Oh God ... No, don't ... UHH,
               please ... I ... STOP!! I can't stand
<b>               ... AIIEEEE.
</b><b>    
</b><b>                            TYPIST
</b>                    (quietly, still typing)
               Can I help you?
<b>    
</b>    She is looking at SAM helpfully, holding one of the
    earphones away from her ear. From this earphone we can
    just hear quietly ...
<b>    
</b><b>                           EARPHONE
</b>               Oooooooh ... aaaaaahhh ... please ...
               arrrrrghhhh no ... please ... Oh God,
               No ... No, stop, I don't know ...
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               I'm looking for Officer 412/L.
<b>    
</b>    The TYPIST nods smiling. She puts back the earphone and
    carries on typing.
<b>    
</b><b>                            TYPIST
</b>               I'm sure he won't be long now.
<b>    
</b>    She types a little more but suddenly stops.
<b>    
</b>                         I thought so!
<b>    
</b>    She takes off the earphones and takes the paper and
    carbonums out of her typewriter and starts collating all
    the different copies.
<b>    
</b>    Through the frosted glass door leading into the next area,
    SAM can see a FIGURE come through a double door and turn
    left, making a silly 'hi' sign to the TYPIST as he exits
    from sight. She is charmed. Almost immediately after them,
    a white-coated TECHNICIAN exits, but to the left.
<b>    
</b><b>                            TYPIST
</b>               You can go in now.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>72  INT.   JACK'S OFFICE                     DAY            72
</b><b>    
</b>    SAM goes through the glass door and is about to push open
    the double doors in front of him. He is halted by a noise
    from the TYPIST - she indicates that he is to go to the
    left. He does so and enters an office. An antique desk
    with a large collection of executive toys and other
    tastefully reassuring furniture fill the room which is a
    rather oddly shaped ... distorted as it by the curved wall
    of the much larger room that SAM was stopped from
    entering. Nevertheless the feel of the room is confidently
    successful. A buzzing noise draws SAM's attention to the
    wash basin in the far corner. The Information Retrieval
    TECHNICIAN is standing by a sink massing his temples with
    old-fashioned scalp vibrators. His back to us.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Excuse me. Are you officer 412/L?
<b>    
</b>    The TECHNICIAN makes no sign of having heard this. He
    continues vibrating his temples.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (a bit louder)
               Er, excuse me!
<b>    
</b>    Getting no response SAM walks over to the TECHNICIAN. As
    he passes the desk he notices a strange mask lying face
    down on the desk top. It seems strangely familiar - but as
    it is a negative concave image SAM isn't sure. He
    continues over to the TECHNICIAN.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (louder)
               Excuse me.
<b>    
</b>    He touches the TECHNICIAN on the shoulder, who jumps with
    a start. He spins around and turns out to be none other
    than JACK LINT. He is amazed to see SAM.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (surprised)
               Jack!!
<b>    
</b><b>                             JACK
</b>                    (recovering slightly)
               SAM! What a surprise!
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (even more surprised)
               Are you officer 412/L?
<b>    
</b>    JACK looks confused. He pauses, and then removes ear
    plugs.
<b>    
</b><b>                             JACK
</b>                    (shaking Sam's hand)
               Sorry about that ... Mr Helpmann told
               me you were coming aboard -
               congratulations!
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Thanks. Are you officer 412/L?
<b>    
</b><b>                             JACK
</b>               For my sins. Are you settling in
               alright?
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Yes, thanks.
<b>    
</b><b>                             JACK
</b>               Terrific. I'm really glad you dropped
               by. Unfortunately, I don't have any
               time right now I've got a queue of
               customers to deal with - er, why
               don't we have a drink tonight?
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                     (diffidently)
               Ah ...
<b>    
</b><b>                             JACK
</b>               What?
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               I don't want to take up your time
               now, but I was hoping you could give
               me some information on somebody. It's
               a security level three matter and
               Information Retrieval records says to
               refer to you.
<b>    
</b><b>                             JACK
</b>               OK. Come back this afternoon, about
               four o'clock. If you give me the
               number of the case, I'll have the
               dossier here waiting.
                    (he pulls card from his
                    pocket - pushes it towards
                    Sam)
               My tailor,... well worth the
               investment.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (taking print-out sheets
                    from his pocket)
               I've got numbers all over these - I'm
               not sure which is the one you want.
<b>    
</b><b>                             JACK
</b>                    (looking at the print-out
                    picture of Jill over Sam's
                    shoulder)
               Layton! Oh shit!
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               What is it?
<b>    
</b><b>                             JACK
</b>               You clever bastard! I might have
               guessed. You only moved in today and
               you're already hot on the bloody
               trail.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>    Am I?
<b>    
</b><b>                             JACK
</b>    Please, Sam, we're going to have to be open to each other
    on this one. If you make a reputation with this case,
    it'll be at my expense.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               How do you mean?
<b>    
</b><b>                             JACK
</b>               How much do you know?
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Not much.
<b>    
</b><b>                             JACK
</b>               Enough though, eh?
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (getting sucked into this
                    exchange)
               Not really, no.
<b>    
</b>    JACK goes over to the sink and turns on the taps full
    blast, splashing the water noisily into the basin.
<b>    
</b><b>                             JACK
</b>               OK. OK. Let's not fence around ...
               This is the situation. Some idiot
               somewhere in the building, some
               insect, confused two of our clients,
               B58/732 and T47/215.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               B58/732, that's A. Buttle isn't it?
<b>    
</b><b>                             JACK
</b>               Christ! You do know it all!
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               No, no, I don't. I'm just beginning
               Honestly. Sorry, carry on.
<b>    
</b><b>                             JACK
</b>               Well, your A. Buttle has been
               confused with T47/215, an A. Tuttle.
               I mean, it's a joke! Somebody should
               be shot for that. So B58/732 was
               pulled in by mistake.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               You got the wrong man.
<b>    
</b><b>                             JACK
</b>                    (a little heated)
               I did not get the wrong man. I got
               the right man. The wrong man was
               delivered to me as the right man! I
               accepted him, on trust, as the right
               man. Was I wrong? Anyway, to add to
               the confusion, he died on us. Which,
               had he been the right man, he
               wouldn't have done.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               You killed him?
<b>    
</b><b>                             JACK
</b>                    (annoyed)
               Sam, there are very rigid parameters
               laid down to avoid that event but
               Buttle's heart condition did not
               appear on Tuttle's file. Don't think
               I'm dismissing this business, Sam.
               I've lost a week's sleep over it
               already.
<b>                               
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               I'm sure you have
<b>    
</b><b>                             JACK
</b>               There are some real bastards in this
               department who don't mind breaking a
               few eggs to make an omelette, but
               thank God there are the new boys like
               me who want to maintain decent
               civilized standards of terrorist
               eradication. We've got the upper hand
               for the moment, but they're waiting
               for us to slip up, and a little slip-
               up like this is just the chance
               they're looking for.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               So how ...?
<b>    
</b><b>                             JACK
</b>               What I've got to do now is pick up
               Tuttle, interrogate him at the same
               voltage as Buttle, to the same meter
               reading to the last penny, and juggle
               the books in electrical banking.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               What has Tuttle done?
<b>    
</b><b>                             JACK
</b>               We suspect him of freelance
               subversion.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (dumbly)
               He's a freelance subversive?
<b>    
</b><b>                             JACK
</b>               He's a compulsive heating engineer. A
               maverick ex-Central Service repair
               man with a grudge against society.
               Now, fortunately, we're nearly out of
               the wood, I think. At least we will
               be when I get this Layton woman under
               arrest.
<b>    
</b>    JACK turns off taps and goes behind screen.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (agitated)
               What's she done?
<b>    
</b><b>                             JACK
</b>               You didn't know as much about this
               business as you pretended to, did
               you?
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Er ... no.
<b>    
</b><b>                             JACK
</b>               Very smart.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Er ... but I would've found out
               anyway.
<b>    
</b><b>                             JACK
</b>               Yes. I'm impressed.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (playing the game)
               Tell me about Layton.
<b>    
</b><b>                             JACK
</b>               She witnessed the Tuttle arrest - the
               Buttle arrest - and since then she's
               been making wild allegations,
               obviously trying to exploit the
               situation - she's working for
               somebody, and she's not working for
               us.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               A terrorist?
<b>    
</b>    JACK comes from behind the screen with a look confirming
    just what SAM fears, and hands him a suit.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Ah ... thanks.
<b>    
</b>    SAM begins to put the suit on.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (hesitantly)
               But surely, I mean, perhaps she just
               happened to live above the Buttles,
               and ...
<b>    
</b><b>                             JACK
</b>                    (picking up photograph of
                    wife and kids from his
                    desk)
               Look after that suit, eh. Barbara
               chose it for me.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Right. Er, you're not going to keep
               calling her Barbara, are you?
<b>    
</b><b>                             JACK
</b>               Barbara's a perfectly good name,
               isn't it?
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (preferring to let his
                    drop)
               Look, about the Layton woman - maybe
               she's just trying to help the Buttle
               family.
<b>    
</b><b>                             JACK
</b>               Why?
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Why? Hell, not for any reason ...
<b>    
</b><b>                             JACK
</b>                    {baffled)
               I don't follow you.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Out of kindness.
<b>    
</b><b>                             JACK
</b>                    (utterly baffled)
               Kindness? What's the purpose behind
               this line of enquiry?
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (deciding to abandon this
                    line of country)
               So what are you going to do about
               her?
<b>    
</b><b>                             JACK
</b>               Get her out of circulation - I've put
               her on the detention list.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (thinking fast)
               You mean you're going to invite her
               in so that she can spill the beans
               inside the department?
<b>    
</b><b>                             JACK
</b>                    (taken aback)
               Well, I ... Good point. What do you
               suggest?
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Let me try to get to her. I'll
               deactivate her.
<b>    
</b><b>                             JACK
</b>               What does that mean? I don't want to
               be involved in anything unsavoury.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Trust me. You do trust me, don't you?
<b>    
</b><b>                             JACK
</b>               Of course. We went to school
               together. You're my oldest friend.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               And you're mine.
<b>    
</b><b>                             JACK
</b>               You're the only person I can trust.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Then we'd better keep this business
               just between the two of us.
<b>    
</b><b>                             JACK
</b>               Right! Just between as and the
               Security Forces.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               They weren't at school with us.
<b>    
</b><b>                             JACK
</b>               But, I've already put her on the
               search and detain list.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Take her off the list.
<b>    
</b><b>                             JACK
</b>               There's no procedure for that until
               she's been arrested.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Say it was a mistake.
<b>    
</b><b>                             JACK
</b>               We don't make mistakes.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Well, I'd better get out there and
               try to get to her before security
               does. Let me borrow her dossier for a
               while.
<b>    
</b><b>                             JACK
</b>               Er ... alright. For Christ's sake
               don't lose it. Here, you'd better
               sign for it.
<b>    
</b>    JACK presents SAM with something to sign. He then gives
    him the dossier.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Thanks, Jack. I'll be in touch.
<b>    
</b><b>                             JACK
</b>               Do you know what you're doing.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (about to say no, then
                    pauses)
               Trust me.
<b>    
</b><b>                             JACK
</b>                    (admiring Sam's new look)
               Sam ... we're proud to have you at
               Information Retrieval. Merry Xmas.
                    (he hands Sam another
                    executive package)
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>73  INT.   CORRIDOR                          DAY            73
</b><b>    
</b>    SAM steps out of Room 5001, newly suited with old suit
    over arm. TWO GUARDS are guiding a BAGGEE down the
    corridor ahead of him. Suddenly, the BAGGEE breaks away
    from his GUARDS and begins to cannonball down the corridor
    directly at SAM. SAM is flattened against the wall as the
    BAGGEE rockets by.
<b>    
</b>    CUT to GUARDS strolling past SAM.
    CUT to BAGGEE running full tilt to the end of the
    corridor, smashing into the wall, bouncing back, getting
    up (now cross-ways in the corridor), bouncing off that
    wall, then the wall behind him, then ...
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>74  INT.   LIFT                              DAY            74
</b><b>    
</b>    Slightly unnerved, SAM gets in the lift, pushes the button
    for his floor - the 30th - and immediately begins perusing
    JILL's dossier. The lift descends. But unnoticed by SAM
    continued past his floor without stopping. It stops at the
    Lobby Mezzanine. SAM looks up and realizes he is on the
    wrong floor. Angrily he pushes the correct floor number
    but before the doors close he hears an angry woman's voice
    echoing through the massive lobby. He looks in the
    direction of the porters desk. There stands JILL arguing
    with the PORTER.
<b>    
</b><b>                             JILL
</b>               But you've stamped this form before!
               Why won't you stamp it now?
<b>    
</b><b>                            PORTER
</b>               You've just said yourself, Miss,
               we've already stamped it. Why should
               we stamp it twice?
<b>    
</b>    SAM is frozen. He can't believe what he sees. The lift
    doors close. SAM is too slow to stop them. Madly he pushes
    the buttons - to no effect. The lift descends. (At this
    point we had better describe the lift. It is a cross
    between the old metal grille lifts with accordion grille
    doors and the super-sleek modern lifts that rise and fall
    in glass tubes so that one can have panoramic views of
    dramatic architectural spaces such as the lobbies of the
    Ministry.)
<b>    
</b>    SAM can see JILL and if JILL were to look up she could see
    SAM descending. He is shouting and rattling the bars of
    the lift cage but no sound escapes to catch her attention.
    SAM sinks below the floor of the lobby desperately trying
    to stop the demon lift. From his POV we see JILL
    disappearing from view still arguing with the PORTER.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>75  INT.   BASEMENT                          DAY            75
</b><b>    
</b>    The lift comes to rest. SAM is still trying to get it to
    respond and return him to the lobby. TWO TECHNICIANS are
    waiting as the doors open. From SAM's POV he sees them
    hang a sign on the door and walk away. He bangs the
    buttons for another moment with no result. He looks out of
    the lift and is able to read the sign - "LIFT OUT OF
    ORDER". Frantically he looks around for another lift. All
    the others are on distant floors - then he spots one off
    to one side, its doors standing open. Rushing over to it
    he leaps inside and reaches to push the floor number - but
    there are no numbers on the buttons, only letters. Before
    he can sort this out a voice shouts at him.
<b>    
</b><b>                             VOICE
</b>               Hey, you - get out of there.
<b>    
</b>    A GUARD approaches looking tough and mean.
<b>    
</b><b>                             GUARD
</b>               What do you think you're doing ...
               that's the Deputy Minister's lift.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Sorry, I'm in a hurry.
<b>    
</b><b>                             GUARD
</b>               Hold on, sonny ... let's see your
<b>               I.D.
</b><b>    
</b>    SAM fumbles through his pockets desperate to get back to
    the lobby before JILL leaves. He has forgotten he is
    wearing his new I.D. badge. The GUARD can't see it because
    JILL's dossier is covering it.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Shit ... it's here somewhere. My
               name's Lowry, Sam Lowry - Expediting
               ... can't this wait?
<b>    
</b><b>                             GUARD
</b>               No, sir ...
                    (getting out book of forms)
               I'm going to have to file a report on
               this. Now ... what date is it
               today?...
<b>    
</b>    SAM gives up trying to find his I.D. card.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (frantic)
               Sorry, it'll have to wait.
<b>    
</b>    He runs off - dropping suit - towards some stairs he has
    spotted.
<b>    
</b><b>                             GUARD
</b>               Stop!! Come back!
<b>    
</b>    He starts to run after SAM. TWO OTHER GUARDS also give
    chase.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b>75a INT.   STAIRS                            DAY           75a
<b>    
</b>    SAM scrambles up the stairs. GUARDS in pursuit.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>76  INT.   BASEMENT                          DAY            76
</b><b>    
</b>    The original GUARD rushes over to a guard desk and inserts
    key into cover of what is clearly an alarm button.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>77  INT.   STAIRS                            DAY             77
</b><b>    
</b>    SAM still running.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>78  INT.   LOBBY                             DAY             78
</b><b>    
</b>    JILL is still arguing with PORTER.
<b>    
</b><b>                             JILL
</b>                    (sweetly)
               You're a stupid, fat arsed,
               obstructive, fascist moron aren't
               you?
<b>    
</b><b>                            PORTER
</b>               If you say so.
<b>    
</b><b>                             JILL
</b>               You think these are tits don't you?
<b>    
</b><b>                            PORTER
</b>               Ah.
<b>    
</b><b>                             JILL
</b>               I bet you'd like to touch them?
<b>    
</b><b>                            PORTER
</b>               Oh.
<b>    
</b><b>                             JILL
</b>               Well don't. You're looking at twenty
               pounds of high explosive! And if you
               don't stamp this form I'm going to
               blow the place up!
<b>    
</b>    JILL thumps the desk with her fist.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>79  INT.   BASEMENT                          DAY             79
</b><b>    
</b>    The GUARD throws the alarm switch.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>80  INT.   LOBBY                             DAY            80
</b><b>    
</b>    Alarm bells start ringing and from secret doors heavily
    armed GUARDS leap out, their guns trained on JILL as she
    appears to be the only person around.
<b>    
</b><b>                             GUARD
</b>                    (shouting)
<b>               DROP IT!!
</b><b>    
</b>    JILL has only the form in her hand - which she dutifully
    drops. She is terrified by the suddenness and size of the
    response to her hitting the desk. The GUARDS close in.
<b>    
</b>    SAM rushes out of the door leading to the stairs. He can't
    believe the sight that greets him. He responds
    instinctively,
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               STOP! Let her go!
<b>    
</b>    He rushes over to the Porter's desk just as the GUARDS
    behind him come through the door. He doesn't have a clue
    what he is going to do but, as he reaches the group of
    GUARDS they snap attention. Confused he looks around and
    then realizes his I.D. badge, is on his lapel and the
    GUARDS are responding as trained. The GUARDS chasing him
    screech to a halt when they see the others snapping to
    attention. Everyone looks confused, embarrassed, hesitant
    to make the next move. SAM breaks the silence.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Well done ... uh ... excellent work
               ... quick thinking. I'll take charge
               of her now ...
<b>    
</b>    Realising he has JILL's dossier, he shows it to everyone -
    her print-out pictures are on the front page.
    It's a classified matter ... I'll include your fine
    handling of the situation in my report
<b>    
</b>    SAM is suddenly aware he is still holding the executive
    toy present - he hands it to the PORTER.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (grabbing Jill)
               Come with me, please.
<b>    
</b>    He hustles her towards the door.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>81  EXT.   INFORMATION RETRIEVAL BUILDING    DAY             81
</b><b>    
</b>    SAM marches JILL out of the main door and down the front
    steps of the Information Retrieval building. As he
    struggles with her some of the papers in the dossier slip
    out unbeknownst to SAM and leave a trail of litter behind
    them.
<b>    
</b><b>                             JILL
</b>               Who are you? Let go!
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Don't look back! Act naturally!
<b>    
</b><b>                             JILL
</b>               How can I act naturally, when you've
               trying to break my arm?
<b>    
</b>    CUT to the POV of the Ministry of Information front door
    GUARDS. They are looking down the steps at the retreating
    backs of SAM and JILL who are jostling each other. The
    GUARDS see JILL elbow SAM in the ribs.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (wincing)
               Ow! That hurt!
<b>    
</b><b>                             JILL
</b>               Good!
<b>    
</b><b>                       VOICE FROM BEHIND
</b>               STOP! Come back here!
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Oh, God ... no!
<b>    
</b>    He turns around, knowing that the game is up. But instead
    of one of the GUARDS shouting - it's an OLD LADY angrily
    glaring at him and pointing to a "Keep your city tidy"
    sign above a litter bin.
<b>    
</b><b>                           OLD LADY
</b>                    (screaming)
               Can't you read english? You
               illiterate foreign pig! You come here
               from your own filthy country and
               think you can mess our streets up!
               You should be fried alive, you dirty
               verminous ... etc. etc.
<b>    
</b>    SAM sees the trail of dossier litter blowing about the
    pavement. He lets go of JILL for a moment to grab at the
    papers. The LADY continues screaming at him, her little
    Pekinese dog (who incidentally wears a plaster over his
    bum hole) yaps at his ankles, ripping SAM's new trousers.
    SAM is torn between trying to regain the pages of the
    dossier and following JILL who has disappeared round the
    corner. He gives up retrieving the paper and rushes after
<b>    JILL.
</b><b>    
</b>    CUTTING back to the TWO GUARDS, who have been observing
    all this bizarre activity, we see one of them reading one
    of the pieces of paper.
<b>    
</b><b>                          OTHER GUARD
</b>               Hey, you shouldn't be reading that
               it's classified.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>82  EXT.   JUST AROUND THE CORNER            DAY             82
</b><b>    
</b>    JILL is behind the steering wheel of her lorry which is
    just starting to move off. SAM frantically runs towards
    the lorry, leaps on the running board and pulls himself up
    into the cab.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>83  INT.   LORRY CAB                         DAY            83
</b><b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (climbing in)
               Well done, that's it ... Let's go!
               Vrmmm. Vrmmm.
<b>    
</b>    SAM looks up and down his side of the street anxiously
    before realizing that JILL has switched off the engine and
    is sitting glaring at him. They are stopped, right in
    front of the Ministry building.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (frantic)
               What are you doing? For Christ's
               sake! Get moving!
<b>    
</b><b>                             JILL
</b>               Who are you?
<b>    
</b>    Desperately SAM pulls roller blind down over window.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (hurriedly)
               Sam Lowry. Hello. This sounds insane,
               I know, but I've been dreaming about
               you. Even before I saw you you were
               in my dreams. Weird isn't it. I mean
               ... I don't know what it means ...
               but it might mean something ...
               mightn't it? I hope so. Anyway you're
               in danger and I think we should get
               out of here, now, quick! Come on!
<b>    
</b>    Still JILL does nothing. SAM pulls down roller blind over.
    window.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (desperate)
               Bloody hell! Do as I say!
<b>    
</b><b>                             JILL
</b>                    (hard, icy cool)
               No.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (beginning to lose his
                    bottle)
               Please!
<b>    
</b>    JILL continues to sit, glaring.
<b>    
</b>    SAM delves into his pockets and drags out a handful of
    I.D. cards and papers, most of which fall onto the floor.
    He then remembers that the badge he's looking for is
    pinned to his jacket. He thrusts it forward at JILL.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (beside himself with panic)
               Alright! Alright! Alright! I'm
               Information Retrieval Officer -
                    (he checks the number
                    somewhere. On the badge?)
               DZ/015, and I'm arresting you for -
               your own good! Now start up and get
               moving before I hand you back to
               them!
                    (indicating M.I. building)
<b>    
</b><b>                             JILL
</b>               Them?
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Us. Them. I don't know ... just get
               going.
<b>    
</b>    JILL starts up and moves off, very cool, in her own time.
    By now SAM has got the shakes.
<b>    
</b><b>                             JILL
</b>                    (indicting the papers that
                    Sam has dropped)
               Don't litter my cab!
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (picking them up)
               Oh, sorry.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>84  EXT.   CITY FREEWAY                      DAY            84
</b><b>    
</b>    A high shot of the lorry, moving through the city among
    traffic.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>85  INT.   TRAVELLING LORRY                  DAY            85
</b><b>    
</b>    JILL is preoccupied with driving. She is smoking a
    cigarette. SAM occasionally glances at her.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               ... This is amazing ... for me ...
               being here with you. I mean, in my
               dreams you ...
<b>    
</b><b>                             JILL
</b>               I don't want to hear about your
               fucking dreams!
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Oh. But ... Look, I'm sorry I shouted
               at you.
<b>    
</b><b>                             JILL
</b>                    (mainly to herself)
               Why are they all pigs at Information
               Retrieval?
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               I don't know.
                    (realizing that this
                    includes him)
               Hey, that's not a very nice thing to
               say.
<b>    
</b>    JILL blows smoke in SAM's direction.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (waving the smoke away)
               You know, smoking's bad for you.
<b>    
</b><b>                             JILL
</b>               It's my fucking life.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (winding down the window)
               Yes, of course. Sorry.
<b>    
</b><b>                             JILL
</b>                    (lighting up another
                    cigarette)
               I know you. I saw you through the
               floor, didn't I?
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Yes. Ceiling. Why did you run away?
<b>    
</b><b>                             JILL
</b>               I didn't run away. I left the flat.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Why?
<b>    
</b><b>                             JILL
</b>               I didn't like it.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Why not?
<b>    
</b><b>                             JILL
</b>               It had a hole in the floor. Where are
               we going?
<b>    
</b><b>                             JILL
</b>               Where are you taking me?
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               What?
<b>    
</b><b>                             JILL
</b>               Where are you taking me?
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Ah ... Er ... It looks as if you're
               taking me.
<b>    
</b><b>                             JILL
</b>               It does doesn't it?
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (slightly worried)
               Where are you taking me?
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>86  EXT.   TRAVELLING LORRY                  86
</b><b>    
</b>    We PULL BACK and lift off to see that the beautiful
    countryside through which we've been travelling is in fact
    a solid wall of giant bill-boards, advertising all sorts
    of wonders like pine scented lavatory paper, sea spray
    flavored cigarettes - you name it - These advertisements
    form an unbroken corridor down which the road travels.
    From a bird's eye POV we see that the land behind the
    hoardings is blasted and blighted with garbage etc.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>87  EXT.   POWER PLANT            DAY (LATE AFTERNOON)      87
</b><b>    
</b>    The power plant is an extensive, brutal, Dante's Inferno
    of a landscape made mainly of steel ... towers, chimneys,
    huge pipes, buildings which look like bomb shelters ... It
    is still daylight but the whole scene is murky and
    forbidding because of the swirling steam and smoke. In the
    murk can be seen sinister-looking FIGURES in protective
    clothing and hard hats.
<b>    
</b>    This is the world which is now entered by JILL's lorry ...
    The lorry halts at a despatching hut near the crane and
    JILL jumps down from the cab. SAM stays inside, looking
    around. Something catches his eye.
<b>    
</b>    CUT to facade of house. Window boxes with flowers and
    shrubbery surrounded by a white picket fence provide
    domestic charm, however, in the doorway stands a MAN with
    protective clothing and something like a gas-mask over his
    face. He is waving to someone. Slowly the house rises out
    of frame.
<b>    
</b>    In a WIDER SHOT we can see the house is suspended from and
    a giant crane that swings it through the air - air filled
    with stead, smoke, evil-smelling fumes. It is lowered onto
    the back of a lorry and we can see that the house is one
    of many prefabricated houses used in the construction of
    the power plant.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>88  INT.   LORRY CAB                         DAY             88
</b><b>    
</b>    SAM watches JILL walk away from the lorry and enter the
    despatcher's hut. He looks around uneasily and then he
    start examining the inside of the lorry and opens a
    compartment which seems to be full of maps, rags, etc. He
    gets grease on sleeve of his suit. In the space behind the
    seats he finds the pieces of luggage which JILL had
    carried away from the flat. He starts to examine this
    cautiously and is startled by the sudden opening of the
    cab door.
<b>    
</b><b>                             JILL
</b>               Don't act guilty. Act like me. I'm
               just getting on with my job. Or, are
               you just getting on with yours?
<b>    
</b>    JILL gets into the cab and closes the door and drives to a
    forward looking position.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               What's going on here?
<b>    
</b><b>                             JILL
</b>               What does it look like ... I'm
               collecting empties.
<b>               
</b>    The lorry stops and JILL gets out. From SAM'S P.O.V., the
    house suspended from the crane starts moving through the
    sky towards the lorry. He glances back to see JILL slip a
    package out from behind the seat. She glances
    surreptitiously over her shoulder and slipping the parcel
    inside her jacket she walks away.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>89  EXT.   LORRY                             LATE AFTERNOON 89
</b><b>    
</b>    SAM climbs down from the cab trying to keep an eye on
    JILL. He ends up standing next to a rusty Kodak Photospot
    standard. The picture on it - though faded by pollution -
    is of the beautiful valley that has now been replaced by
    the murk and mess of the power plant. JILL has made her
    way over to a rather SHADOWY FIGURE lurking around the
    corner of one of the metal structures. They appear to be
    exchanging parcels. SAM is worried by this suspicious
    behaviour - reinforced as it is by a Ministry poster on
    the side of the building that illustrates, almost
    identically, the action we have just seen along with the
    warning: "MIND THAT PARCEL. EAGLE EYES CAN SAVE A LIFE".
<b>    
</b>    CUT to the house being lowered and secured onto the lorry.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>90  INT.   LORRY CAB                         LATE AFTERNOON 90
</b><b>    
</b>    JILL is starting up the lorry. SAM is glancing over her
    shoulder at the suspicious parcel which is tucked behind
    her. They move off. The last view of the power plant is of
    a group of MEN all in protective clothing and masks
    happily playing a game of volleyball.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>91  INT.   TRAVELLING LORRY                  LATER AFTERNOON91
</b><b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               OK. What's in the parcel?
<b>    
</b><b>                             JILL
</b>               What parcel?
<b>    
</b>    SAM nods knowingly in the direction of the parcel.
    JILL I don't know. Christmas present.
    SAM picks it up.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               It's heavy.
<b>    
</b><b>                             JILL
</b>               A heavy Christmas present.
<b>    
</b>    He glances at her suspiciously.
<b>    
</b><b>                             JILL
</b>               Open it if you don't trust me.
<b>    
</b>    SAM hesitates and puts the parcel down.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               I'd rather trust you.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b>    JILL gives him a quizzical look and smiles slightly, in
    spite of herself. She turns away so that he won't notice.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>92  INT.   TRAVELLING LORRY IN CITY TRAFFIC  DUSK           92
</b><b>    
</b><b>                             JILL
</b>               What are you doing in Information
               Retrieval?
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Looking for you.
<b>    
</b><b>                             JILL
</b>               No, really.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Really.
<b>    
</b><b>                             JILL
</b>               I mean, it doesn't suit you.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (looking at his jacket)
               Suit me?
<b>    
</b><b>                             JILL
</b>               Don't you know the sort of thing that
               Information Retrieval does?
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               What do you mean? Would you rather
               have terrorists?
<b>    
</b><b>                             JILL
</b>               We've got both.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Things would be worse without
               Information Retrieval.
<b>    
</b><b>                             JILL
</b>               They couldn't be worse for the
               Buttles.
<b>    
</b>    SAM is at a loss.
<b>    
</b><b>                             JILL
</b>               Why don't you say, no system is
               perfect.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Well, no system is.
<b>    
</b><b>                             JILL
</b>               Say, all wars have innocent victims.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Well, all wars do -
<b>    
</b><b>                             JILL
</b>               Who is this war against, Sam?
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Well, terrorists of course.
<b>    
</b><b>                             JILL
</b>               How many terrorists have you met?
               Actual terrorists?
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Actual. terrorists? Well ... it's
               only my first day.
<b>    
</b>    JILL bursts out laughing. SAM joins in. They are both
    laughing hysterically as they approach the Central
    Supplies depot.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>93  EXT.   CENTRAL SUPPLIES                  DUSK            93
</b><b>    
</b>    The impression is that the place could be an abandoned
    airfield out to the use of a vast open air warehouse whose
    contents is arranged in a grid pattern of "streets", all
    the streets being lined by stacks, piles, ranks, jumbles
    of goods and objects which seem at first to be arbitrarily
    grouped, some of them (like the stacks of prefabricated
    houses) standing in the open others protected under simple
    areas of roofing. Each group of Assorted Supplies lies
    inside the squares of the grid of streets. The streets are
    eerily lit by lights just being switched on, and each
    square is also lit by harsh localized lighting. The effect
    is a nightmarish gigantic Aladdin's cave of black shadows
    and garishly lit mountains of stuff.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>94  INT.   LORRY                             DUSK           94
</b><b>    
</b>    JILL's lorry starts down one of the "streets".
<b>    
</b><b>                             JILL
</b>                    (as they pass a clock in
                    "C"s)
               Look at that - right on time.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               What? I thought you were free to come
               and go as you please.
<b>    
</b><b>                             JILL
</b>               Well, almost ... unfortunately I do
               have to punch in by 5.00 every day.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (slightly surprised)
               Every day?
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Turn around!
<b>    
</b><b>                             JILL
</b>               What?
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               They'll be there waiting.
<b>    
</b><b>                             JILL
</b>               Who will?
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Security.
<b>    
</b><b>                             JILL
</b>               You're joking.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               No. Please. They're going to arrest
               you.
<b>    
</b><b>                             JILL
</b>               I thought you arrested me.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Yes ... but, this is real. Now, stop!
                    (he grabs for the emergency
                    brake)
<b>    
</b><b>                             JILL
</b>                    (pushing his hand away)
               Cut it out, Sam.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (grabbing at the steering
                    wheel)
               Will you please turn back.
<b>    
</b><b>                             JILL
</b>                    (shoving him back)
               Get away!
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (lunging for the steering
                    wheel)
               Turn!
<b>    
</b><b>                             JILL
</b>                    (unable to control him)
               Stop it ... damn you!
<b>    
</b>    SAM throws the lorry into a gut-sucking skid.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>95  EXT.   CENTRAL SUPPLIES                  DUSK           95
</b><b>    
</b>    The lorry skids around a corner and roars down a side
    street of containers.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>96  INT.   LORRY                             DUSK            96
</b><b>    
</b>    SAM and JILL are fighting for control of the lorry.
<b>    
</b><b>                             JILL
</b>               You're mad! You're out of your mind!
<b>    
</b>    At that moment the air is split apart by the wail of
    sirens. SAM and JILL look back.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>97  EXT.   CENTRAL SUPPLIES                  DUSK           97
</b><b>    
</b>    From inside two strategically placed wooden containers
    stacked amongst the piles of containers marked
    "AUTOMOBILES" burst forth two Security vehicles. Wood
    flying, lights flashing, wheels smoking - they squeal away
    in pursuit.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>98  INT.   LORRY                             DUSK           98
</b><b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               I was right! Step on it!
<b>    
</b><b>                             JILL
</b>               Let go! We've got to stop!
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Now you're the one that's out of your
               mind.
<b>    
</b><b>                             JILL
</b>               Sam ... we can't outrace them. You'll
               kill us!
<b>    
</b>    They struggle for control of the lorry.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>99  EXT.   CENTRAL SUPPLIES                  DUSK           99
</b><b>    
</b>    The lorry rumbles down the street of containers lurching
    from side to side as the battle in the cab wages back and
    forth. Containers are smashed open and their contents
    spill out only to be further damaged as the pursuing
    Security vehicles crash through them. The lorry escapes
    from the streets of containers and cannons through the
    main gate and out on to the streets of the city.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>100 INT.   LORRY CAB                         DUSK          100
</b><b>    
</b>    SAM and JILL are still struggling violently for control of
    the lorry. SAM is terribly inexpert as a driver but he
    behaves like someone possessed. Through the rear view
    mirrors he can see the Security vehicles catching up with
    them. He starts fumbling with he multiple gear levers.
<b>    
</b><b>                             JILL
</b>               Don't touch those!
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>101 EXT.   DOMESTIC STREETS                  DUSK           101
</b><b>    
</b>    The lorry roars down a street of terraced houses and then
    screeches around a corner.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>102 INT.   LORRY                             DUSK          102
</b><b>    
</b>    SAM pushes JILL's hand back and grabs for the lever that
    he thinks is overdrive. But rather than gaining speed
    there is a terrible lurch as the house and trailer
    disconnect from the cab.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>103 EXT.   DOMESTIC STREET                   DUSK          103
</b><b>    
</b>    The house slides off the trailer which is skidding
    sideways and crunches to the ground just as the Security
    vehicles round the corner.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>104 INT.   SECURITY VEHICLE                  DUSK          104
</b><b>    
</b>    From behind the DRIVER we can see that the house has
    settled across the roadway at right-angle to the other
    houses, making it appear to be a normal dead end street.
    So shocked is the DRIVER that he fails to stop in time and
    KABLOW!! the car smashes into the house.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>105 EXT.   DOMESTIC STREET                   DUSK          105
</b><b>    
</b>    Hot on the heels of the 1st car, the 2nd vehicle skids and
    then smashes into the house which collapses and then
    explodes in flames.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>106 INT.   JILL'S LORRY                      DUSK          106
</b><b>    
</b>    SAM sits paralysed with shock. The lorry has come to a
    halt. JILL is desperately trying to get him to move.
<b>    
</b><b>                             JILL
</b>               Come on, let's go! Let's get out of
               here!
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Oh God! What have we done?
<b>    
</b><b>                             JILL
</b>               We? Don't blame me!
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               It wasn't supposed to happen like
               this.
<b>    
</b><b>                             JILL
</b>                    (looking behind)
               Shit! The house is on fire!
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               "And your children all gone."
<b>    
</b><b>                             JILL
</b>               What?
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               "Lady bird, lady bird, fly away home,
               your house is on fire and your
               children all gone" ... Do you think
               anyone's hurt?
<b>    
</b><b>                             JILL
</b>               Yes.
                    (tapping him on the
                    forehead)
               Come out, I know you're in there
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>107 EXT.   DOMESTIC STREET                   DUSK          107
</b><b>    
</b>    A Security vehicle in full banshee howl roars through the
    streets. We roar along with it as it rounds a corner and
    skids to a halt at a safe but striking distance from
    JILL's lorry. Heavily armed SECURITY POLICE pour out and
    take up firing positions behind parked cars or whatever
    other cover is available. Searchlights are played on the
    lorry. The OFFICER IN CHARGE appears with a loud-hailer.
<b>    
</b><b>                       OFFICER IN CHARGE
</b>               Come out, we know you're in there!
               You cannot possibly escape. Throw
               your weapons from your vehicle and
               come out slowly with your hands on
               your heads. Obey my instructions and
               no harm will come to you. But if you
               force us to shoot we'll shoot to
               kill.
<b>    
</b>    During the above speech a SMALL BOY on a tricycle "roars"
    around a corner behind the SECURITY POLICE. He rides into
    a gap between them, rolls his tricycle over and "takes
    cover" behind it. He points his toy rifle at JILL's lorry
    and takes shot. In reaction to the noise made by the kid's
    rifle the OFFICER IN CHARGE dives for cover and the
    SECURITY TROOPS open fire and pepper JILL's lorry cab with
    holes. A few of the SECURITY TROOPS then rush forward and
    fling open the cab door. The cab is empty. The OFFICER IN
    CHARGE gets to his feet and looks about. His uniform is
    covered with dust, oil and shit from the street. He just
    misses seeing the back of the BOY as he disappears round
    the corner on his tricycle.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>108 INT.   LINGERIE DEPARTMENT/SHOPPING CENTRE              108
</b><b>    
</b>    To the lush sound of musak we glide through the glittering
    sensuous, supportive world of ladies undergarments. As we
    slip past girdles, bras, panti-hose for a variety of
    exotic occasions we come upon SAM and JILL pushing a
    shopping trolley. In the trolley is the "suspicious"
    parcel which JILL was given at the power plant.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               This is a hell of a time to buy a
               nightie.
<b>    
</b><b>                             JILL
</b>               Are you still following me?
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Please, Jill ... I love you.
<b>    
</b><b>                             JILL
</b>               Go away.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               There are plenty of other safe
               places. Why don't we go back to my
               flat?
<b>    
</b><b>                             JILL
</b>               Leave me alone!
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               You've got to trust me. It sounds
               silly but I know we were meant to
               meet.
<b>    
</b><b>                             JILL
</b>               You mean you were meant to hijack my
               truck, make me crash it, and have
               every security man in town looking
               for me?
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               I vas just trying to help. I decided
               to trust you. Maybe I was wrong.
               Whose side are you on really? Who are
               your friends? Who was the man who
               gave you the parcel? What's in it?
               It's the only thing you saved from
               the lorry .... It must he something
               very special.
<b>    
</b><b>                             JILL
</b>               I saved you from the lorry and you're
               not very special.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               ........... It's a bomb isn't it?
<b>    
</b><b>                             JILL
</b>                    (exasperated)
               Oh ... Jesus!
<b>    
</b>    SAM grabs the parcel from the trolley and tries to start
    tearing it open.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               I'm going to open it!
<b>    
</b><b>                             JILL
</b>                    (grabbing parcel and trying
                    to take it from him)
               No you're not!
<b>    
</b>    They start an ugly little struggle for the parcel. SAM's
    suit gets slightly ripped. Their tug-of-war is interrupted
    by a voice off camera.
<b>    
</b><b>                             VOICE
</b><b>               SAM!!
</b><b>    
</b>    SAM turns to see MRS TERRAIN and SHIRLEY a short distance
    away. MRS TERRAIN is heavily bandaged and sitting in a
    wheelchair which SHIRLEY is pushing.
<b>    
</b><b>                          MRS TERRAIN
</b>               It's me and Shirley!
<b>    
</b>    From the TERRAINS' POV SAM looks as if he is wrestling
    with a dummy, or with himself if he is beside a full
    length mirror. The mirror or something obscures JILL. MRS
    TERRAIN and SHIRLEY exchange puzzled looks and proceed
    toward SAM.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Ah ... hello, Mrs Terrain. SAM lets
               go of the parcel and pushes JILL
               away. She moves off.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (after Jill for Mrs
                    Terrain's benefit)
               I think that'll hold it.
                    (to Shirley)
               Hello Shirley. Just helping someone
               tie up a Christmas present. How are
               you?
<b>    
</b><b>                          MRS TERRAIN
</b>               My complication had a complication,
               but Dr Chapman says I'll soon be up
               and bouncing about like a young
               gazelle. Are you buying a Christmas
               present for your mother?
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (Trying to keep an eye on
                    Jill who is disappearing
                    from sight)
               Er, yes ...
<b>    
</b><b>                          MRS TERRAIN
</b>               Shirley and I come here regularly. I
               love romantic lingerie.
<b>    
</b>    She unwraps a set of red and black, fur trimmed things
    with strategic holes in them.
<b>    
</b><b>                          MRS TERRAIN
</b>                    (coyly)
               Picture me in these.
<b>    
</b>    At this moment there is an almighty explosion from the far
    corner of the store. It is the corner that we last saw
    JILL moving towards. SAM races towards the smoke, dust
    covering his suit. He finds bras, knickers, broken shop
    dummies, bleeding CUSTOMERS and SHOP ASSISTANTS all over
    the place. On the edge of this devastated area he sees
    JILL struggling out from under a pile of negligees and
    plaster dust. He rushes over to her.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                           (frantic)
               Are you alright?
<b>                             JILL
</b>               Yes.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (anxiety giving way to
                    anger)
               You don't deserve to be! You should
               be dead, or maimed like them .... How
               could you ...?
                    (indicating the wounded)
               What a bloody stupid thing ... I
               should. have made you open it in the
               lorry
<b>    
</b>    She has dug the parcel out of the debris and has ripped it
    open. Under the brown paper are a dozen brightly coloured.
    Christmas packages - yes you guessed it - executive toys.
    She throws the parcel and its contents hard into SAM's
    chest. He topples back-wards - tangling himself up with
    the severed limbs of a shop dummy.
<b>    
</b><b>                             JILL
</b>               There's your bomb! Our annual bribes
               for official ass-holes like you!
<b>    
</b>    SAM sits in the debris - ashamed and relieved. Liquor
    oozes from the broken bottle all over SAM's suit. He is at
    a loss for words.
<b>    
</b>    JILL's attention is attracted by moans coming from the
    badly hurt BOMB VICTIMS. She goes to help them.
<b>    
</b><b>                             JILL
</b>                    (to Sam)
               Come on, make yourself useful, there
               are people hurt!
<b>               
</b>    JILL goes around trying to make the INJURED comfortable.
    SAM follows her. He takes off his jacket with his
    Information Retrieval badge on the lapel and uses it to
    make a pillow for one of these VICTIMS. By now sirens are
    wailing, water sprinklers are functioning, and there is
    general pandemonium. SECURITY GUARDS run into the area and
    begin arresting everyone, including the DEAD and INJURED.
    ONE OF THE GUARDS tries to drag off the WOMAN whom JILL is
    attending.
<b>    
</b><b>                             JILL
</b>               Hey stop ... she's hurt!
<b>    
</b>    The GUARD gives JILL a thump in the side of the face with
    his gloved hand. SAM sees red.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b><b>               DON'T TOUCH HER!!
</b><b>    
</b>    The GUARD looks up and as he does so he is transformed
    into the GIANT WARRIOR from SAM's dream. He towers over
    the WOUNDED, the DYING and the debris of the blasted
    lingerie department. SAM grabs for a weapon and comes up
    with one of the arms (now detached) of the shop dummy. It
    makes a passable club.
<b>    
</b><b>                             JILL
</b>               SAM .... don't!!
<b>    
</b>    The TWO COMBATANTS square off ... looking for an opening
    ... a chink in the other's defences - at which point SAM
    is flattened from behind by a TROOPER's gun butt.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b>108a       INT.                              STONE SHIPANTI-DAY108a
<b>    
</b>    SAM is falling down the inner wall of the stone ship. He
    tumbles end over end - unable to stop his crashing
    descent. With a thud he hits the bottom. Stunned, bruised
    and battered he tries to get up. Standing over him are the
    GREY PRISONERS. They press forward.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (feebly)
               Where is she? Is she here?
<b>    
</b>    The GREY PRISONERS dissolve into what looks like several
<b>    BAGGEES.
</b><b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>109 INT.   BLACK MARIA                       EVENING       109
</b><b>    
</b>    The BAGGEES hang from a track on the ceiling of the Black
    Maria. SAM is lying on the floor, covered by his jacket,
    with his badge prominently displayed. He is dazed and
    mumbling ... the only BAGGEE in the wagon apart from TWO
    GUARDS who have removed their helmets and are relaxing
    while travelling back to base.
<b>    
</b><b>                            GUARD A
</b>                    (scratching his head)
               These helmets don't half make your
               scalp itch.
<b>    
</b><b>                            GUARD B
</b>               Ooh, don't mention it.
                    (beginning to scratch his
                    head)
               And they make you sweat. Half the
               time I can't see where I'm going -
               there's a great Niagara of
               perspiration coming down.
<b>    
</b><b>                            GUARD A
</b>               I'm lucky, I've got thick eyebrows.
               That keeps it up and channels it out
               to my ears.
<b>    
</b>    SAM stirs and groans
<b>    
</b><b>                            GUARD B
</b>               Who's he?
<b>    
</b><b>                            GUARD A
</b>               Someone from Information Retrieval
               they're always hanging about in
               lingerie.
<b>    
</b>    SAM is coming to his senses. He takes in the situation,
    sees all the BAGGEES and staggers to his knees.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Jill! Jill! Are you there?!
<b>    
</b>    He begins rummaging through the BAGGEES. ONE of which is
    dressed as FATHER CHRISTMAS. SAM opens the "face vent" of
    the BAGGEE'S' hoods. A pair of strange eyes look out.
<b>    
</b><b>                            GUARD A
</b>               Excuse me, sir - that's government
               property.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Is here a girl here? Tall, fair hair,
               blue eyes?
<b>    
</b><b>                            GUARD A
</b>               Dunno sir. They check all that at the
               depot.
<b>    
</b>    SAM continues fumbling about the BAGGEES.
<b>    
</b><b>                            GUARD 3
</b>                      (pulling Sam back)
               We can't allow you to do that sir,
               it's more than our job's worth.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (shaking Guard off)
               I've got to find her! Jill! Jill!
<b>    
</b><b>                            GUARD A
</b>               You can always fill in an application
               form, if you're a relative, sir.
               Please stop, sir.
<b>    
</b>    SAM takes no notice.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Jill! Jill!
<b>    
</b>    GUARD A hits SAM, knocking him out again.
<b>    
</b><b>                            GUARD A
</b>               Sorry about that sir. Regulations.
               We'll have you safely back in your
               office in no time.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b>Scenes 110 & 111 deleted.            Scenes 110 & 111 deleted.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>112 INT.   SAM'S OFFICE                      EVENING       112
</b><b>    
</b>    SAM recovers consciousness to find himself sitting at his
    desk in his office. He is bruised and battered and has a
    black eye. His suit is torn and bloody. MR WARREN is
    gripping him by the throat and giving him a lecture.
    Behind WARREN, crowding the doorway, are the PEOPLE who
    circulate around him and are the cast of the WARREN high
    energy circus. LIME is with them.
<b>    
</b><b>                            WARREN
</b>               This is a black eye for the
               department, Lowry! ... And I don't
               care how you behaved when you were at
               Records! Information Retrieval is an
               executive branch! We're proud of our
               reputation and we protect it!
<b>    
</b>    One of his ACCOLYTES thrusts a paper into his hand - he
    glances at it.
<b>    
</b>               Damn it, Lowry, that convoy of troop
               carriers is still not accounted for
               ... I thought I told you to deal with
               it.
<b>    
</b>    He slams the form down onto the desk which is covered with
    other forms.
<b>    
</b>               And what the hell is this mess? An
               empty desk is an efficient desk.
<b>    
</b>    He has picked up some of the forms.
<b>    
</b>               Good God! ... queries from Security,
               searches from Central Banking about a
               cheque, clarification notices from
               Accounting concerning unreturned
               receipts, another demand from the
               Motor Pool.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Mr Warren ... I have to find out
               about ...
<b>                               
</b><b>                            WARREN
</b>               Shut up! I don't know what's going on
               here, Lowry, but don't think you can
               intimidate us with your friends and
               relatives in high places! Now shape
               up!
<b>    
</b>    He dumps the papers and folders onto SAM's desk and storms
    off with his ENTOURAGE, leaving a gleeful LIME in the
    doorway.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (grabbing Lime as he starts
                    to slip away)
               Lime, I need to use your computer
<b>    
</b><b>                             LIME
</b>               Sorry, a bit busy at the moment.
                    (he indicates Sam's
                    smothered desk)
               You seem to have quite a lot to do
               yourself.
                    (he disappears into his
                    office)
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b>112a       INT.                              30TH FLOOR
CORRIDOR   DAY                               112a
<b>    
</b>    SAM rushes out of his office after LIME. But, LIME has
    locked his door. SAM bangs on the door.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Shit!
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b>112b       INT.                              SAM'S OFFICE   DAY112b
<b>    
</b>    SAM storms back into his office. Reaching a peak of
    frustration, he stuffs all his paperwork into the
    pneumatic tube and sends it off into oblivion. Within
    seconds it returns. SAM sends it off a second time. It
    doesn't return a second time, periodically something
    passes through the tubes causing them to move. SAM's
    pneumatic tubes continue to pulsate, pressure building up.
    At this point SAM's desk begins, as before, to creep
    through the wall. He grabs it violently. He pulls it.
    There is a scream from the other side of the wall. SAM
    smiles. Th pneumatic tubes give a final convulsion and
    then there appears to be a muffled explosion outside SAM's
    office door. It shakes the whole building. SAM goes to his
    door and opens it.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>113 INT.   SAM'S CORRIDOR                    CONTINUATION  113
</b><b>    
</b>    Every door in the corridor has been opened by the
    occupants of the room. All the occupants stick their heads
    into the corridor, all gazing with SAM at the variously
    coloured blizzard of paper which has errupted through the
    whole length of the corridor ceiling, from which protrudes
    the intestines of the pneumatic system.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>114 INT.   JACK'S OFFICE CORRIDOR & INFORMATION         EVENING114
</b><b>           RETRIEVAL CORRIDORS
</b><b>    
</b>    It is the end of the working day. JACK is leaving for
    home. He is putting on his executive-styled bullet-proof
    vest and packing his "Secret Connection" briefcase. As the
    scene progresses SAM and JACK proceed out of the door and
    down he corridor, passing other I.R. OFFICIALS. SAM is
    dishevelled and causing acute sartorial embarrassment to
    JACK to is trying to distance himself from him.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Come off it, Jack! Of course you can
               check to see if she's been arrested.
<b>    
</b><b>                             JACK
</b>               I'm sorry, Sam, I'm afraid this whole
               case has become much more complicated
               since last we talked.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (exasperated)
               She's innocent, Jack --- she's done
               nothing wrong.
<b>    
</b><b>                             JACK
</b>               Tell that to the wives of the
               Security men she blew up this
               afternoon. Listen, we've also had a
               report just in from Central Services
               that Tuttle has wrecked an entire
               flat and sabotaged adjacent Central
               Services systems - as a matter of
               fact, in your block. I'd keep my eyes
               open if I were you, Sam. Bye.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (catching up with Jack)
               You don't really think Tuttle and the
               girl are in league?
<b>    
</b><b>                             JACK
</b>               I do. Goodbye.
                    (steps into lift)
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>115 INT.   LIFT                              EVENING       115
</b><b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               It could all be coincidental.
<b>    
</b><b>                             JACK
</b>               There are no coincidences, Sam.
               Everything's connected, all along the
               line. Cause and effect. That's the
               beauty of it. Our job is to trace the
               connections and reveal them.
                    (whispers)
               This whole Buttle/Tuttle confusion
               was obviously planned from the
               inside. Bye bye.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>116 INT. INFORMATION RETRIEVAL LOBBY         EVENING        116
</b><b>    
</b>    JACK and SAM have just emerged from the lift. The lift
    doors close. SAM agitatedly speaks.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Jack, she's innocent!
<b>    
</b><b>                             JACK
</b>               Sam - we've always been close,
               haven't we?
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (eagerly)
               Yes we have, Jack!
<b>    
</b><b>                             JACK
</b>               Well, could you stay away from me
               until this thing blows over.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>117 EXT.   MINISTRY OF INFORMATION RETRIEVAL       NIGHT    117
</b><b>                       BUILDING
</b><b>    
</b>    SAM is leaving the Ministry of Information Retrieval. The
    lights in the foyer are blazing behind him, the street
    lamps are lit. He is exhausted and depressed and anxious
    about the safety and whereabouts of Jill. He begins to
    retrace their first journey together, down the Ministry
    front steps and around the corner to where Jill's truck
    was parked.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b>117a       EXT.                              JUST AROUND THE
CORNER     NIGHT                             117a
<b>    
</b>    SAM stands in the passageway where JILL's lorry was first
    parked. The only hint of its once-upon-a-time presence is
    a small splodge of oil by the kerb. SAM stands lost and
    beaten under a street light. He slumps down to the
    pavement unsure his next move. The street light is
    reflected in the pool of oil. As he stares at the
    reflected light it expands and becomes a patch of blue
    cloud-filled sky. SAM turns to look at the actual street
    light. It has become a crack of blazing light coming thru
    the inner wall of the great stone ship.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b>117b       INT.                              STONE SHIPANTI-DAY117b
<b>    
</b><b>                    DREAM GIRL'S VOICE
</b>               I'm here Sam. Don't give up.
<b>    
</b>    SAM is pushing thru the GREY PRISONERS. The light from the
    crack shafts across the space in which they find
    themselves imprisoned, striking the opposite wall. There
    in the bright pool of light are SAM's wings - beautiful,
    shimmering silver... But, nailed to a large stone
    cruciform - like a crucified eagle. SAM rushes towards
    them and begins to pull them loose, But before he can, a
    great cracking noise reverberates thru the ship and a
    black shadow falls across SAM and the wings. Looking round
    he saees the inner wall has split open to the level of the
    floor - but, blocking the opening is the GIANT SAMURAI
    WARRIOR. SAM draws his sword and rushes toward the GIANT.
    The GIANT stands ominously still. Then very slowly he
    raises his spear in front of himself in an almost
    religious gesture. Poof! He vanishes! SAM is confused.
    Suddenly a PRISONER shouts a warning and SAM spins round
    just in time to avoid a slash of the spear by the gigantic
    WARRIOR who is now standing directly behind him. SAM
    parries a couple more thrusts of the spear and then
    strikes with his sword. At thin air! The GIANT has
    vanished again. SAM can't figure it out. But he hears
    something whoosh and instinctively dodges as the GIANT who
    is once again behind him brings the spear crashing down.
    Again SAM manages a few parries as he is forced backwards.
    He trips and falls to the ground. The spear goes into the
    ground.
<b>    
</b>    Before the GIANT can wrench the spear loose, SAM slashes
    at him with his sword. But again the GIANT disappears. SAM
    spins around. The GIANT is a short distance from him. SAM
    rushes him. Again he vanishes. This time he reappears next
    to the spear and tries to free it. But SAM attacks again
    and the GIANT is forced to do his vanishing act before he
    can recover the spear. SAM is becoming exasperated with
    his behaviour, and as the GIANT reappears he shouts at him
    to hold still, at the same time throwing his sword at the
    big fellow. The sword pins the GIANT's foot to the ground
    before he can disappear. Instead of blood pouring from the
    wound, fire issues forth. SAM takes advantage of the
    situation and manages to wrench the spear from the ground.
    The GIANT is unable to escape as SAM charges, but manages
    to dodge a bit. However the spear catches his arm and
    opens a gash. Again fire pours out. As the big GUY tries
    to stop the fire, SAM charges again. This time he succeeds
    in striking dead centre. The GIANT gasps as fire gushes
    from his chest. He staggers and crashes to the ground. The
    wounds continue to bleed fire.
<b>    
</b>    SAM gets his breath back and approaches the fallen
    WARRIOR. Reaching down he removed the GIANT's mask. Fire
    rushes forth from all the facial orifices. But the thing
    that makes him catch his breath is the face itself. It's
    his ... SAM's! While he stares in amazement the fire
    begins to melt the face. In a moment it is unrecognizable.
    SAM stands there stunned. Somewhere in the distance a bell
    tolls.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>118 EXT.   JUST AROUND THE CORNER            NIGHT         118
</b><b>    
</b>    SAM's face is reflected in the puddle of oil. He is
    staring wide-eyed. A church bell tolls in the distance.
    SAM is definitely spooked. He scrambles to his feet. He's
    got to get out of here. He heads off down the passageway
    but is brought quickly to a halt. There, in the shadows,
    is SOMEONE smoking a cigarette. He hesitates and reverses
    direction but, before he manages 2 paces a familiar voice
    comes from behind him.
<b>    
</b><b>                             JILL
</b>               You're late.
<b>    
</b>    SAM spins around. Stepping out from the shadows is JILL -
    cigarette in her mouth.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (stunned)
               Jill! What are you do ... I mean ...
               how did you ... Are you alright?
<b>    
</b><b>                             JILL
</b>               Yes.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               What happened to you after ...
<b>    
</b><b>                             JILL
</b>               Your face ... are you hurt?
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               No. No. I'm fine. I was worried sick
               about you ... I thought ...
<b>    
</b>    A patrol car approaches. Quickly SAM grabs JILL and goes
    into a kiss to explain their presence. The car hesitates
    for a moment and drives on.
<b>    
</b><b>                             JILL
</b>                    (through kiss)
               They're gone.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (through kiss)
               Are you sure?
<b>    
</b><b>                             JILL
</b>                    (through kiss)
               Yes.
<b>    
</b>    They resume passionate kiss. After a moment
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (urgently)
               C'mon, we've got to get you off the
               streets.
<b>    
</b>    They head off clutching one another.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>119 INT.   SAM'S CORRIDOR                    NIGHT          119
</b><b>    
</b>    The Elysian Fields train arrives clattering. SAM and JILL
    are the only passengers to emerge. They can't keep their
    hands off one another. This is young love at its freshest
    and most exciting. SAM looks up and down the platform
    cautiously but there is no-one in sight as the train
    clatters off again into the darkness. SAM and JILL
    approach SAM's front door. He puts a key in the door and
    tries to open the door but has some difficulty. Something
    creaks. He gives the door a heavy shove and the door opens
    and a shower of white powdery ice falls on his head..
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>120 INT.   SAM'S FLAT                        NIGHT         120
</b><b>    
</b>    SAM enters, followed by JILL. His breath immediately
    starts come out of his mouth like clouds of steam. The
    flat looks as though it has been disembowelled and then
    deep frozen. Icicles are hanging down from everywhere. The
    flat looks like a scrap dump. Every wall has spilled out
    its disgusting steel and rubber entrails, filling most of
    the available space and making progress through the flat
    difficult. Half a dozen MEN are at work. They are
    impossible to identify because they wear arctic clothing
    and look more like spacemen. Their voices however belong
    to SPOOR and DOWSER.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               For God's sake, what's happened?
<b>    
</b><b>                             SPOOR
</b>               Thermostat's gone. And then some.
<b>    
</b><b>                            DOWSER
</b>               ... And then some.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               What have you done to my flat?
<b>    
</b><b>                             SPOOR
</b>               Sign here, please.
<b>    
</b><b>                            DOWSER
</b>               ... ere please.
<b>    
</b>    SPOOR offers a clipboard and pencil. He bangs the
    clipboard against the furniture to knock the ice off it.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               What is it?
<b>    
</b><b>                             SPOOR
</b>               It's a 27B/6 of course.
<b>    
</b><b>                            DOWSER
</b>               ...B/6 of course.
<b>    
</b><b>                             JILL
</b>                    (to Dowser)
               Do you repeat everying?
<b>    
</b><b>                            DOWSER
</b>                    (nods)
               ... Everything.
<b>    
</b><b>                             SPOOR
</b>                    (indicating the mess)
               This is what you get when you have
               cowboys round yer ducts.
<b>    
</b><b>                            DOWSER
</b>               ... yer ducts.
<b>    
</b><b>                             SPOOR
</b>               I think you've got your T41 crystal
               inductor wired up to a reverse bobbin-
               threaded-solenoid-control. It's
               either that or a new washer.
<b>    
</b><b>                            DOWSER
</b>               ... new washer.
<b>    
</b><b>                             SPOOR
</b>               Sign the form so we can get to it.
<b>    
</b><b>                            DOWSER
</b>               ... get to it.
<b>    
</b>    SAM grabs the clipboard and smashes it over SPOOR's head.
    The board is so cold that it snaps in two. The paper on it
    also snaps in two.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>121 INT.   SAM'S CORRIDOR                    NIGHT         121
</b><b>    
</b>    SAM pulls JILL out into the corridor.
<b>    
</b><b>                             JILL
</b>               Don't you like parties?
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               C'mon. We've got to get out of here.
<b>    
</b>    As SAM and JILL begin to move down the corridor they see a
    cigarette glow brightly in a dark recess.
<b>    
</b><b>                             JILL
</b>                    (seeing cigarette light)
<b>               TOO LATE!
</b><b>    
</b>    They ere about to run when TUTTLE steps out of the
    shadows.
<b>    
</b><b>                            TUTTLE
</b>               I'll fix the damage when they've
               gone. I'll be ready for you tomorrow.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>122 INT.   MOTHER'S CORRIDOR                 NIGHT         122
</b><b>    
</b>    A venerable PORTER carrying a single key on a large ring
    is preceding SAM and JILL along the corridor which we have
    seen before. The PORTER's name is MATTHEWS.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               My mother said it would be all right.
<b>    
</b><b>                           MATTHEWS
</b>               She didn't say anything about it to
               me.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Well, she's my mother, not yours.
<b>    
</b><b>                           MATTHEWS
</b>               I won't be held responsible.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               How long will she he away?
<b>    
</b><b>                           MATTHEWS
</b>                    (darkly)
               There are some who go to Dr. Jaffe's
               clinic who never come back at all.
<b>    
</b>    MATTHEWS unlocks MOTHER's door.
<b>    
</b><b>                           MATTHEWS
</b>                    (to Jill)
               You're not a professional, are you?
<b>    
</b><b>                             JILL
</b>               No, amateur.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (firmly)
               Thank you, Matthews.
<b>    
</b>    With which he ushers JILL through the door and closes the
    door in MATTHEWS' face.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>123 INT.   MOTHER'S FLAT                     NIGHT          123
</b><b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Make yourself at home. Don't answer
               the phone or open he door to anyone.
               I won't be long.
<b>    
</b><b>                             JILL
</b>               Where are you going?
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               I'm going to pull some strings. It's
               our only hope.
<b>    
</b><b>                             JILL
</b>               Don't do anything silly.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Thanks for the vote of confidence.
<b>    
</b><b>                             JILL
</b>               Take care.
<b>    
</b>    SAM goes.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>124 INT.   INFORMATION RETRIEVAL FOYER       NIGHT          124
</b><b>    
</b>    SAM arrives at the Ministry of Information Retrieval
    reception It's late. GROUPS OF CLEANERS are operating
    cleaning machinery. SAM approaches the DESK PORTER who is
    playing with the executive toy SAM gave him.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Excuse me, Dawson, can you put me
               through to Mr Helpmann's office?
<b>    
</b><b>                            PORTER
</b>               I'm afraid I can't, sir. You have to
               go through the proper channels.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               And you can't tell me what the proper
               channels are, because that's
               classified information?
<b>    
</b><b>                            PORTER
</b>               I'm glad to see the Ministry's
               continuing its tradition of
               recruiting the brightest and best,
               sir.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Thank you, Dawson.
<b>    
</b>    SAM crosses the foyer, checks to see that Dawson is no
    longer watching him engrossed as he is with the executive
    toy, and slips past the lift which, at that moment,
    disgorges a leg-bandaged, be-crutched LIME who hobbles
    across the lobby without seeing SAM, who slips down the
    stairs which he knows lead to Helpmann's private lift.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>125 INT.   BASEMENT                          NIGHT         125
</b><b>    
</b>    SAM creeps along the corridor to the lift door - avoiding
    a GROUP OF SECURITY MEN who are singing carols in close
    harmony. ONE GUARD is conducting and giving instruction.
    They are all incredibly big and brutal looking.
<b>    
</b><b>                         CHOIR MASTER
</b>                    (stopping them)
               No, no, no, Arthur, you're going flat
               on that G. It's your breathing. Take
               a breath on the end. of the previous
               line, after Noel. Right, one, two,
               three.
<b>    
</b>    The CHOIR begins singing again. SAM reaches the lift and
    looks at the small panel of letters set into the wall.
    CLOSE UP of SAM's face concentrating. He hears, we hear, a
    reprise of MR HELPMANN talking to SAM in MOTHER's
    bathroom.
<b>    
</b><b>                        HELPMANN (V/O)
</b>               Of course, Jeremiah was senior to me,
               but we were close friends, and I keep
               his name alive at the office every
               day. It's as though he's there
               speaking to me. "'ere I am, J.H."
<b>    
</b>    SAM is already typing the letters EREIAMJH into the
    keyboard. The lift judders and star s to ascend.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>126 INT.   MR HELPMANN'S OFFICE              NIGHT         126
</b><b>    
</b>    SAM steps out of lift into an ante-room. No-one is there.
    Tentatively he knocks on the connecting door into the
    office. No reply. He slowly opens door.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Mr Helpmann? Are you there? Hello?
<b>    
</b>    The office is empty. SAM looks around - not sure what he
    wants to do. He notices his MOTHER's picture on HELPMANN's
    desk. He is just about to leave when his eye is caught by
    an elaborate computer console in a side room. It
    occasionally chatters away. Paper print-outs fill a large
    bin. Hesitantly SAM approaches it. Looking around to make
    sure the room is still empty he punches the On key and the
    machine lights up.
<b>    
</b>    He cautiously pushes a couple more keys. The teleprinter
    machines have paused but one starts chattering now. He
    looks at the one which is busy. A CLOSE UP shows us the
    message coming through: TOTAL - TOTAL -TOTAL - CAR 15
<b>    REQUEST FEEDBACK STATUS ON SUBJECT BENJAMIN GEORGE
</b><b>    TROLLOPE - VAGRANT - DETAINED TERRORIST/SUSPECT/ASSOCIATE.
</b>    This is followed by a code number. The teleprinter falls
    silent.
<b>    
</b>    SAM returns to the keyboard and switches it off. He turns
    to leave.
    The teleprinter starts chattering again. SAM stops and
    goes back to it and looks at the page again. A CLOSE UP
    shows us: UPDATE - SUBJECT TROLLOPE DECEASED - CAUSE OF
<b>    DEATH GUNSHOT RESISTING ARREST. PLEASE DELETE FROM SPECIAL
</b>    CATEGORY. The computer spool revolves back and forth for
    two or three seconds and then stops. SAM ponders this for
    a moment and then heads back to the keyboard and swtiches
    on the machine. He has he answer.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>127 INT.   MOTHER'S FLAT                     NIGHT          127
</b><b>    
</b>    SAM enters the flat. JILL is nowhere to be seen. The
    lights are out but, from the partially opened bedroom door
    beams a shaft of bright light. Music pours forth ... it is
<b>    "BRAZIL".
</b><b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (cautiously)
               Jill?
<b>    
</b>    Getting no answer he goes to the door and peers through.
    There is JILL but, transformed. She is wearing one of
    SAM's MOTHER's wigs which billows in the air blown by a
    fan. She is also wearing a diaphanous nightdress borrowed
    from the extensive wardrobe and is dancing slowly. She
    looks like the DREAM GIRL. SAM stands open-mouthed. JILL
    notices him and smiles.
<b>    
</b><b>                             JILL
</b>               What do you think? ... is it me?
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (still stunned)
               You don't exist any more. I've killed
               you. Jill Layton is dead.
<b>    
</b>    He holds out a print-out. She reads it and slowly looks
    up.
<b>    
</b><b>                             JILL
</b>               Care for a bit of necrophilia?
<b>    
</b>    They rush together.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>128 INT.   STONE SHIP                        ANTI-DAY      128
</b><b>    
</b>    The screen is filled with brilliant white clouds rushing
    about a beautiful blue sky. They course this way and that.
    Pulling back we reveal that this patch of sky is inside a
    mammoth glass-like cube held aloft by four stone columns.
    The absolutely amazing scale of this cube is revealed as
    SAM sweeps up into shot - his wings gleaming in the light.
    He is a tiny speck but, overjoyed -he has found the day.
    far below him the GREY PRISONERS gather beaming with
    happiness. Diving back to the ground - SAM unsheaths his
    sword and holding it aloft rushes to the base of one of
    the great columns. The FORCES OF DARKNESS who have been
    lurking in the shadows slink back. SAM, with one mighty
    swing, strikes the column - the noise reverberates as
    cracks begin to race up and through the column. It is
    disintegrating. As it crumbles the mammoth cube begins to
    topple. Everyone steps back. Down it plummets. And smashes
    into a million pieces. The bright blue sky escapes in all
    directions. The GREY PRISONERS' iron collars and chains
    fall from their necks as they stand, surrounded by a
    beautiful blue sky. They look up to the sun. SAM is
    exultant.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>129 INT.   MOTHER'S BEDROOM                  DAWN          129
</b><b>    
</b>    Pull back from the sun through a window. The light falls
    on SAM's smiling sleeping face. Showly he wakes. He little
    by little remembers where he is and reaches over for JILL.
    She isn't there. Sam panics.
<b>    
</b><b>                             JILL
</b>               Merry Xmas.
<b>    
</b>    She is sitting at the foot of the bed grinning at him. She
    crawls over to him - they start to embrace.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Everything is going to be all right.
<b>    
</b>    But crash !!! it's a raid! Like a giant drill a whirling
    cylinder has plunged through the ornate moulded ceiling of
    Mother's bedroom, and we now see what made the neat hole
    in the BUTTLE ceiling ... CUTS show doors being burst open
    by SECURITY TROOPS. JILL and SAM are frozen in panic.
    SECURITY TROOPS are sliding down a fireman's pole" from
    the hole in the ceiling.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (shouts)
               She's dead. Check the list!
<b>    
</b>    But it is SAM they have come for. He is being dragged out
    of the bed.
<b>    
</b><b>                            GUARDS
</b>                    (as they struggle with him)
               You Turncoat Bastard! JUDAS!!
<b>               TRAITOR!!
</b><b>    
</b>    A canvas bag is plunged over his head. All goes black.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (muffled)
<b>               JILL!!!
</b><b>    
</b>    A shot rings out. JILL screams. It echoes through the
    blackness.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>130 INT.   PROCESSING AREA                                 130
</b><b>    
</b>    In absolute inky darkness, SAM and the CAMERA move through
    space and time marked only by voices and sounds
    encountered on the way. This sound-sequence fades in and
    out a few times, indicating that the journey is longer
    than the real-time period of the blacked-out sequence. We
    hear:
<b>    
</b>    Footsteps of SAM and GUARDS.
<b>    
</b>    Distant howl of pain.
<b>    
</b>    Muzak.
<b>    
</b>    Iron gate.
<b>    
</b>    Footsteps again.
<b>    
</b>    Lift doors opening and closing.
<b>    
</b>    Muzak.
<b>    
</b>    Typing pool.
<b>    
</b><b>                         FEMALE VOICE
</b>               a wonderful gift, I changed it at the
               chemist for some antibiotics and
               bathroom scales and there's enough
               left on the voucher for a
               tonsilectomy if I want to treat
               myself ...
<b>    
</b>    Office door opens and closes.
<b>    
</b><b>                         GUARD'S VOICE
</b>               Christmas Parcel for you, sir ...
               sign here please ...
<b>    
</b>    What looks like a rectangular hatch in the blackness
    opens. It is the eyeslit on the front of SAM's bag being
    opened by a SECURITY GUARD.
<b>    
</b>    The SECURITY GUARD peers in for a moment and then steps
    back to reveal two SMART OFFICIALS sitting at a desk. They
    are looking up at SAM/us.
<b>    
</b><b>                          OFFICIAL A
</b>               93/HKS/608, you are charged with the
               following:
               Passing confidential documents to
               unauthorized personnel - viz IR
               dossier/Gillian Layton. Destroying
               Government property - viz an
               indeterminate number of personnel
               carriers. Taking possession under
               false pretences of said personnel
               carriers. Forging the signature of
               the Head of Records, Third
               Department. Attempting to misdirect
               Ministry funds, in the form of a
               cheque to A. Buttle, through
               unauthorized channels. Tampering with
               Central Services supply ducts.
               Employing unqualified suspected
               persons for this purpose. Attempting
               to conceal a fugitive from justice.
               Obstructing the forces of law and
               order in the exercise of their duty.
               Giving aid and comfort to the enemies
               of society.
               Bringing into disrepute the good name
               of the Government, and the standing
               within the community of the
               Department of Information Retrieval.
               Attempting to disrupt the Ministry of
               Information Retrieval's internal
               communicating systems. Wasting
               Ministry time and paper.
<b>    
</b><b>                          OFFICIAL B
</b>               We would advise you that a plea of
               guilty will save you and the tax
               payer money, and will always be
               looked upon more favourably than a
               plea of not guilty. All you are
               requested to do at this stage is to
               sign this form.
<b>    
</b>    OFFICIAL B waves a sheet of paper. We hear SAM's voice.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Where's Jill?
<b>    
</b><b>                          OFFICIAL A
</b>               Not interested?
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               What have you done with Jill?
<b>    
</b><b>                          OFFICIAL A
</b>               Right. Next!
<b>    
</b>    The SECURITY GUARD appears briefly and zips up the hood
    again plunging us back into darkness. We get more muffled
    shouts, heavy breathing and subterranean son et lumiere.
<b>    
</b>    Another SECURITY GUARD opens the flap on SAM's hood. We
    see another TWO OFFICIALS.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (more hysterical)
               Where's Jill? What's happened to
               Jill?
<b>    
</b><b>                          OFFICIAL C
</b>               93/HKS/608, you've got quite a list
               of misdemeanours here, haven't you?
               All this is going to take time and
               money, and I'm afraid, according to
               your bank statement and credit rating
               here, you're likely to be in deep
               financial trouble by the end of it.
               Now, either you plead guilty to say,
               seven or eight of these charges,
               which'll bring the costs down to
               within your reach, or you can borrow
               a sum to be negotiated, from us, at
               very competitive rates. We can offer
               you something at say, eleven and a
               half per cent, over thirty years. But
               you will have to buy insurance to
               qualify for his scheme.
<b>    
</b><b>                          OFFICIAL D
</b>               All you have to do is to agree to
               sign the appropriate boxes on these
               forms. Yes or no?
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               I'm not guilty! Not guilty you stupid
               bastar...
<b>    
</b>    THE GUARD closes the flap. Once again darkness and
    confusion. until another SECURITY GUARD opens the flap
    again to reveal another TWO OFFICIALS.
<b>    
</b><b>                          OFFICIAL E
</b>                    (examining forms)
               Now, since you've elected to plead
               not guilty on all these charges,
               you'd be well advised to take some
               sort of insurance cover. Preferably
               comprehensive, or if you'd prefer,
               something more specific - say,
               against electrical charges over
               f70.00. And for food and
               accommodation costs of say, £800.00.
               Detention can be a very expensive
               business.
<b>    
</b><b>                          OFFICIAL F
</b>               Now, before we bore you with the
               small print perhaps you'd like to
               tell us whether you'd like to sign
               this insurance acceptance form or
               not. Think carefully before you
               decide. Thinking ahead in financial
               matters is always the wise course.
<b>    
</b>    The flap is closed and opened again very quickly - NEW
    OFFICIALS are revealed. This process repeats again and
    again - getting faster and faster. The OFFICIALS' faces
    seem to become a changing blur. Their voices overlap in a
    growing cacophony. The desk and the other items in the
    room remain static. To add to this disturbing effect the
    FORCES OF DARKNESS begin to gather in the room behind the
    OFFICIALS. As they increase in number they begin to press
    forward unseen by the OFFICIALS. Soon they fill the view
    through the flap.
<b>    
</b><b>                           OFFICIAL
</b>               We're here to save you and the tax
               payer money.
<b>    
</b><b>                           OFFICIAL
</b>               Would you like to pay the premium for
               a single room with a shower and a
               soft bed?
<b>    
</b><b>                           OFFICIAL
</b>               For a small charge we can keep visits
               from friends and relatives down to to
               a minimum.
<b>    
</b><b>                           OFFICIAL
</b>               Plead guilty, it's easier, quicker,
               and cheaper for everyone.
<b>    
</b><b>                           OFFICIAL
</b>               We're doing a survey ... Aimed at
               providing a better service.
<b>    
</b><b>                           OFFICIAL
</b>               Do you think the present system is A.
               efficient, B. inefficient?
<b>    
</b><b>                           OFFICIAL
</b>               As a taxpayer are you A. impressed,
               B. unimpressed
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>131 INT.   STONE SHIP                        TIMELESS      131
</b><b>    
</b>    CUT to SAM struggling with the FORCES OF DARKNESS. He is
    overwhelmed by the black hordes. They fill the screen. SAM
    disappears under their onslaught. A pause. Then SAM is
    raised, spread-eagled, above the black sea of the FORCES.
    Strong hands hold him. The maniacal laughter starts up.
    SAM is turned in its direction.
<b>    
</b>    CUT to a shot over the top of the mass of robed FIGURES.
    Rising from the ruins of the stone columns, the black
    cloth thing flaps menacingly towards camera. We can see
    the towering filing cabinet skyscrapers of the Storeroom
    of Knowledge in the background.
<b>    
</b>    SAM looks terrified. As the thing hovers above SAM in all
    its huge twisting awfulness, it slowly begine to unfold
    like some deadly flower blooming in stop motion.
<b>    
</b>    SAM freezes as the interior becomes invisible. There in
    the billowing blackness is the GIRL. She is beckoning.
<b>    
</b><b>                             GIRL
</b>               Sam.
<b>    
</b>    But the VOICE is no longer the mysterious feminine voice
    of before - it is the voice of the maniacal laughter.
<b>    
</b>    SAM struggles with the restraining hands. He twists and
    turns, but to no avail. From the darkness above him
    descends the JOLLY GENT looking just like MR HELPMANN) on
    his window washer's platform. However he is now dressed as
    Father Christmas.
<b>    
</b><b>                             GENT
</b>               Sam, what are we going to do with
               you?
<b>    
</b><b>                             GIRL
</b>               Ha ha ha ha ha.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>132 INT.   CELL                              DAY/NIGHT     132
</b><b>    
</b>    The filing cabinets of the Storeroom of Knowledge dissolve
    squares of padding that form the walls of a cell. The
    laughter echoes round the cell. SAM sees that MR HELPMANN,
    in his wheelchair is watching him. He is dressed as Father
    Christmas. They are alone in the cell. SAM scrunches up
    into the corner.
<b>    
</b><b>                           HELPMANN
</b>               Sam, what are we going to do with
               you? Can you hear me, Sam?
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (in a hoarse urgent
                    whisper)
               Where's Jill? What have you done to
               her? Where is she?!
<b>    
</b><b>                           HELPMANN
</b>               Gillian Layton?
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Yes, you've got to get me out of
               here. I've got to find her.
<b>    
</b><b>                           HELPMANN
</b>               I understand, Sam, I know exactly how
               you feel. So I brought you a bottle
               of barley water.
<b>               
</b>    HELPMANN holds up a bottle of barley water.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (desperately)
               Help me!
<b>    
</b><b>                           HELPMANN
</b>               I assure you, Sam, I'm doing
               everything within my power. But the
               rules of the game are laid down, and
               we all have to play by them - even
               me.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               This is all a mistake! Don't you
               understand?!
<b>    
</b><b>                           HELPMANN
</b>               Yes, well, from the Department's
               point of view you're certainly a bit
               of an own goal, but ...
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               I'm not a terrorist! You must know
               that! I'm not guilty! Get me out of
               here!
<b>    
</b><b>                           HELPMANN
</b>               Sam, if you've been going out there
               and playing a straight bat, all the
               way down the line, you've got
               absolutely nothing to worry about.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Please, I've got to find Jill.
<b>    
</b><b>                           HELPMANN
</b>               Sam, I think I ought to tell you ...
               I'm afraid she's upped stumps and
               retired to the pavilion.
<b>    
</b>                       SAM looks blank.
<b>    
</b>               Thrown in the towel.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (takes a moment to work
                    this out)
               Dead?
<b>    
</b>    HELPMANN nods.
<b>    
</b><b>                           HELPMANN
</b>               Yes, it's all a bit confusing but, it
               seems she was killed resisting
               arrest.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (relieved)
               No, no ... I did that...
<b>    
</b>    HELPMANN looks surprised. SAM shuts up.
<b>    
</b><b>                           HELPMANN
</b>               The odd thing is it appears to have
               happened twice ... a bit of a
               disputed call, I'm afraid.
<b>    
</b>    SAM has gone catatonic.
<b>    
</b><b>                           HELPMANN
</b>                    (starting to go)
               So, there you are. All I can say is,
               don't fall at the last fence. The
               finishing post's in sight. See you in
               the paddock. Good luck. Keep your eye
               on the ball. Got to go .... Can't
               keep the orphans waiting.
<b>    
</b>    HELPMANN goes. A GUARD helps him out and then returns with
    ANOTHER to help put the restraining bag over SAM.
<b>    
</b><b>                             GUARD
</b>               Don't fight it, son .... confess
               quickly ... Before they get into the
               expensive procedures. If you hold out
               too long you could jeopardise your
               credit rating.
<b>    
</b>    The bag blacks everything out.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>133 INT.   INFORMATION RETRIEVAL ROOM                      133
</b><b>    
</b>    The bag comes off. SAM finds himself strapped into an
    Information Retrieval chair. The CAMERA tracks back
    frighteningly fast revealing that he chair stands in an
    unbelievably vast room. The walls curve up and out of
    sight.
<b>    
</b>    The floor doesn't seem to be a floor at all - strange
    light undulates beneath. The whole effect is one of total
    disorientation and overwhelming size. SAM is desperately
    trying to take it in. Next to the chair is a porcelain
    tray of evil and frighteningly ambiguous instruments.
    Worrysome electrical connections and meters are near at
    hand. As the GUARDS leave SAM to take up their positions
    near the distant door they hand over documents to the
    white-coated INFORMATION RETRIEVAL OFFICER.
<b>    
</b><b>                             GUARD
</b>               11/AFT/607, sir.
<b>    
</b>    They all sign the document which the I.R. OFFICER retains
    after giving carbon copies to the GUARDS. The GUARDS then
    proceed to the door and take up positions on either side
    of it. The I.R. OFFICER heads toward SAM. We can now see
    he wears a mask. It is the face of the FORCES OF DARKNESS.
    A smiling baby doll face. SAM sits, mesmerized, watching
    him approach. Within fifteen or twenty yards of SAM the
    I.R. OFFICER comes to an abrupt halt. He seems to sway.
    After a moment he turns slightly, hesitantly, giving the
    impression that he may return to the door. He looks at the
    GUARDS, pauses, straightens himself up, takes a deep
    breath and continues again towards SAM, rather more
    briskly than before. SAM watches, terrified and
    fascinated. The I.R. OFFICER goes to the table which is
    covered with evil-looking surgical-type instruments - he
    blunders clumsily into it, knocking a couple of them onto
    the floor. He picks then up quickly and replaces them.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Jack?
<b>    
</b>    The I.R. OFFICER reacts to this as if he's been hit in the
    solar plexus, and he tries to disguise it by simulating a
    coughing fit. He then picks up a nasty looking implement
    and advances on SAM.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Jack?... Jack?
<b>    
</b><b>                             JACK
</b>                    (hysterically from behind
                    mask)
               Shut up!
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Jack, I'm innocent! Help me.
<b>    
</b><b>                             JACK
</b>               Bastard!!!
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               This is all a mistake. Jack, please
               take that mask off.
<b>    
</b>    JACK is very close to SAM, he is shaking. He lifts up his
    mask to reveal sweaty face, contorted with fear and anger.
<b>    
</b><b>                             JACK
</b>               You stupid bastard!
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               What?
<b>    
</b><b>                             JACK
</b>               How could you do this to me?
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Help me, Jack! I'm frightened!
<b>    
</b><b>                             JACK
</b>               How do you think I feel? You shit!
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Jack ...
<b>    
</b><b>                             JACK
</b>                    (pulling down mask)
               Shut up! This is a professional
               relationship!
<b>    
</b>    JACK comes at SAM with the horrifying implement.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               JACK!! ... You can't ... No, don't!
<b>    
</b>    SAM's eyes widen in terror. From his POV we look up at
    JACK approaching. The ceiling above and behind JACK is
    suddenly and. loudly penetrated by the Ceiling Hole
    Machine, and in an instant without benefit of "fireman's
    pole", the commando-like figure of MR TUTTLE gun in hand,
    leaps through the hole.
    TUTTLE is immediately followed by similar looking MEN with
    balaclavas, guerilla-type clothing, and very efficient
    guns. JACK is cut down. So are the TWO GUARDS who have
    opened the door from the corridor and are shooting into
    the room.
<b>    
</b>    TUTTLE raps out into a walkie-talkie
<b>    
</b><b>                            TUTTLE
</b>               Detonate!
<b>    
</b>    From somewhere near at hand there is a large explosion
    which rocks the room. TUTTLE is already unstrapping SAM.
<b>    
</b><b>                            TUTTLE
</b>               Let's go!
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>134 INT.   CORRIDORS                         NIGHT         134
</b><b>    
</b>    CUT to RESCUERS, with SAM in the middle, fighting their
    way in the terrific battle with GUARDS, until they get to
    a door leading to the stairs.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>135 INT.   ENDLESS STAIRWAYS                 NIGHT         135
</b><b>    
</b>    CUT to RESCUERS, their members thinning, and SAM, fighting
    down flight after flight of stairs with lots of neat-oh
    violence and blood and, gunshots and ... falling and
    bleeding and -
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>136 INT.   INFORMATION RETRIEVAL LOBBY       NIGHT          136
</b><b>    
</b>    CUT to the RESCUERS fighting their way to the entrance.
    Another group of RESCUERS at the door are providing cover
    fire The PORTER sits behind his desk watching the battle
    on his bank of monitors.
<b>    
</b><b>                           2ND GROUP
</b><b>    
</b>               Quick! We've only got thirty seconds
               to get clear!
<b>    
</b>    TUTTLE tosses SAM a dark overcoat to cover his light grey
    detainee outfit. Together, the TWO GROUPS burst out
    through the door into the large empty forecourt.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>137 EXT.   FORECOURT                         NIGHT          137
</b><b>    
</b>    The forecourt is suddenly illuminated by huge arc lights.
    Machine gun installations open fire. The RESCUERS are
    totally exposed.
<b>    
</b>    They are cut down left and right.
    Desperately they battle their way across the open space.
    Time running out. SAM, knowing the way, leads TUTTLE
    towards a shielded spot. Will they make it? As the last
    RESCUER is cut down SAM and TUTTLE dive for cover.
    KOWBLAMMPOW! A massive explosion. Then another. And
    another. SECURITY TROOPS caught unprotected are decimated.
    SAM looks up. Christ! The building is being blown to bits.
    Certain windows are lit. They spell out MERRY XMAS. With a
    final massive haemorrhage the building erupts in a geyser
    of masonry, steel, paper and dozens of T.V. consoles and
    visual aid apparatus including, in large chunks, MR
    HELPMANN's masterpiece. But also tons and tons of paper.
<b>    
</b>    Every file in the building has burst its seams and ejected
    its load skywards. The night sky is full of white
    rectangular wisps. Ashlike they flutter down over the
    city. SAM looks around and can't see TUTTLE anywhere. He
    shouts for him. But the remaining TROOPS have spotted SAM
    and SAM runs.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>138 EXT.   CITY PASSAGES                     NIGHT         138
</b><b>    
</b>    SAM runs madly through paper-littered passages
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>139 EXT.   SHOPPING                          PRECINCT     NIGHT139
</b><b>    
</b>    Eluding his pursuers, SAM dives into a crowded, garishly
    lit, shopping centre. Once among the protective company of
    he mindlessly shopping MOB, SAM slows down and proceeds
    casually. The SHOPPERS go about their programmed business
    paying no attention to the paperwork swirling about them.
    Searching the CROWD, SAM spots TUTTLE making his way
    towards him. TUTTLE is having a bit of trouble walking
    against the steadily increasing wind. As he proceeds
    across an open area a blown piece of paper. catches on his
    foot. He tries shaking it off.
<b>    
</b>    It remains firmly stuck. While he is struggling with the
    piece of paper another, larger piece catches his other
    leg. He begins to lose his temper trying to dislodge the
    flying debris. Another hits him and twists around his arm.
    Still more paper blows against him. He is having
    difficulty staying upright. Twisting this way and that he
    tries to free himself, but more and more paper covers him.
    He is practically obscured from view. SAM can't believe
    what he is seeing. SHOPPERS continue about their business,
    apparently unaware of TUTTLE'S terrible plight. Apart from
    ONE SHOPPER who loses control of her shopping trolley -
    and watches it career down the steps of the shopping
    precinct. By now TUTTLE is totally encased in this cocoon
    of litter. He is now just a ball of paper writhing about
    on the ground. SAM has to do something. He rushes out from
    his hiding place and tries to pull the litter off TUTTLE.
    The pieces come loose with surprising ease. The wind
    carries them away as SAM frantically tears at the pile.
    But there is no sign of TUTTLE. Nothing. The last few
    pieces of paper flutter away leaving SAM standing there
    with a couple of posters in his hands. He realises that he
    is suddenly very visible. All the shopping bustle has
    stopped. They are all staring at him. SAM spots TROOPS
    shouldering their way towards him. He turns tail and
    dashes off.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>140 INT.   MOTHER'S FLAT                     NIGHT         140
</b><b>    
</b>    The drawing room door burst open as SAM dashes in. SAM
    goes straight through and into the bedroom. The room is
    empty of all terrestrial human life forms. A hollow wind
    blows the curtains.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>141 INT.   MOTHER'S BEDROOM                  NIGHT         141
</b><b>    
</b>    The room is in chaos (and there is a hole in the ceiling).
    SAM turns and sees a silhouette in the doorway. He rushes
    forwards.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>142 INT. MOTHER'S FRONT DOOR NIGHT 142
</b><b>    
</b>    But it's MATTHEWS the porter who is at the door watching
    SAM running towards him.
<b>    
</b><b>                           MATTHEWS
</b>                    (piously)
               A sad loss. Your mother was with her
               at the end. The doctor said there was
               no pain.
<b>    
</b>    SAM grabs MATTHEWS round the neck and shakes him.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>               Where is she?
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>143 EXT    A CORNER                          NIGHT         143
</b><b>    
</b>    SAM comes running around corner. He is suddenly bathed in
    a strange blue light. He halts and looks up. There
    opposite him is a large blue neon cross above the entrance
    to a chapel of dully modernistic design. Holy music from
    an electric organ can be heard. SAM rushes up the stops
    and through the door.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>144 INT. CHAPEL OF OUR LADY OF THE CHECK-OUT COUNTER NIGHT 144
</b><b>    
</b>    CUT to SAM slipping into the chapel (in tight spot) and
    suddenly being confronted by SPIRO the Maitre D.
<b>    
</b><b>                             SPIRO
</b>               Ah, yes, Mr Lowry. It's so good you
               could make it. Right this way.
<b>    
</b>    SAM, dumbfounded, follows.
<b>    
</b>    CUT to SAM being lead into the middle of the cold, modern
    chapel which, possibly for the occasion, has been tarted
    up with some red velvet curtains that help make it a bit
    theatrical. A large flower-smothered coffin rests on some
    sort of raised stand in front of the altar, a VICAR stands
    in the pulpit, and a fair sprinkling of PEOPLE sit in
    stepped seats on three sides of the room.
<b>    
</b>    The coffin is closed, but a length of bandage has escaped
    the lid. Standing amidst the floral tributes is a large,
    rather idealized, colour portrait of MRS TERRAIN looking
    not so much young as beautiful. Among the MOURNERS are DRS
    JAFFE and CHAPMAN and others in their operating gowns.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b>    To enlarge on the scene, we see SHIRLEY T snuffling in her
    hanky and a few others chatting amongst themselves, the
    VICAR standing in his pulpit waiting to get on with it,
    etc. CUT to SAM trying to take all this in, stopping in
    the middle of the room. Don't forget DR CHAPMAN sobbing.
<b>    
</b><b>                             SPIRO
</b>                    (stopping and looking back
                    at Sam)
               Mrs Lowry? Mrs Lowry is ...
<b>    
</b>    In the background the VICAR begins speaking, and we hear
    his voice throughout the following action. CUT TO SAM'S
<b>    POV ....
</b><b>    
</b>                     VICAR (in background)
               At these times of giving and
               receiving let's remember the greatest
               gift of all: not a gift to be
               spurned, not a gift to be opened and
               carelessly set on one side, not a
               gift to be taken back and changed,
               but the gift of eternal life. Mrs
               Terrain has just received that most
               wonderful of all gifts. She came to
               us physically new, she goes hence
               from us not so physically new. But
               the spirit never grows old. And in
               the domain of the Eternal Giver, Mrs
               Terrain shall dwell in bountiful joy
               forever.
<b>    
</b>    ..... (CUT to SAM's POV) ... past SPIRO to a section in
    the bleachers directly across from the coffin and the
    VICAR where a WOMAN (her back to SAM) is surrounded by a
    buzzing flock of very handsome and well-dressed YOUNG MEN.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (trying to take in scene)
               what? ... Oh ...
                    (starts to follow Spiro)
<b>    
</b><b>                             SPIRO
</b>                    (coming up to back of
                    woman)
               Madam ...
    CUT to WOMAN turning, half in flirtatious conversation. It
    is SAM's MOTHER, but miraculously another twenty years
    younger and ... a parody of SAM's Dream Girl.
<b>    
</b><b>                            MOTHER
</b>               Sam!!!
                    (uncertainty in her
                    expression)
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (staring dumbly, not
                    knowing what to say)
               Mother? ... What ... what's ...
               you've got to help me ...
<b>    
</b><b>                            MOTHER
</b>                    (embarrassed, unsure)
               Not now ... please
<b>    
</b><b>                         YOUNG GALLANT
</b>                    (belligerently)
               Ida, is this fellow bothering you?
                    (getting up)
               I'll -
<b>    
</b>    But before we can find out what he'll:
<b>    
</b><b>                             SFX:
</b><b>               TERRIFIC CRASH.
</b><b>    
</b>    CUT to entrance to Chapel as a squad of TROOPS come
    crashing in. PEOPLE begin to scatter, screaming. The
    TROOPS spot SAM who dashes away from his MOTHER and heads
    for a door behind the altar. In his panic he crashes
    against the coffin which topples over spilling its
    contents ... a hundredweight of offal. SAM covers his
    mouth and dashes through the door.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>145 EXT.   MAZE-LIKE DARK PASSAGES           NIGHT          145
</b><b>    
</b>    CUT to SAM, really dashing madly, tripping over things,
    hurting himself, getting up running.
    He is in a maze of machinery. Every way he turns his path
    seems blocked by either TROOPS or FIGURES from his dreams.
    The walls of the maze become more simplified as he goes
    deeper into it. More rectangular, higher. We see a top
    shot of the maze with SAM separate from the pursuing
    FORCES but they are closing in on him from all sides. The
    maze extends as far as we can see. SAM turns left and
    right through it, always there is a chance of turnings.
    Until ... he rounds a corner and for the first time there
    is nowhere to go. The maze leads straight ahead to a dead
    end.
    At the end of the maze is a great pile of detritus from
    the consumer society. Televisions, washing machines, hair
    dryers, junk. SAM can do nothing but try to dig through
    this pile.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b>    Maybe he can defend himself with something here. He
    scrabbles away. Looking back he sees the massed AGENTS,
    TROOPS, FORCES OF DARKNESS heading toward him. No escape.
    He digs, harder, faster. Junk flies everywhere. He
    actually reaches the end wall. Back to it, he turns to
    face the foe. But as he moves against the wall his hand
    touches something. A door knob. He turns. It's a door. The
    knob turns easily. The door swings open. SAM dives through
    it.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>146 INT.   HABITATION UNIT                   NIGHT         146
</b><b>    
</b>    SAM finds himself in a strange little house empty of
    furniture except a few fitted cupboards and a fitted bed
    frame. He tries to lock the door behind him but there is
    no key. He puts his weight against the door to keep it
    shut. From outside there is the general noise of pursuit
    but this fades and resolves itself into a fairly quiet
    uniform engine-sound. SAM lets go of the door carefully.
    He looks around but there is only one window and it is
    shuttered. He carefully opens the door a crack and he sees-
<b>    
</b>    SAM'S POV: A rapidly receding street.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>147 EXT.   CITY                              NIGHT         147
</b><b>    
</b>    JILL's truck, with the house on its back, is driving
    dangerously through he streets. It lurches round the
    corner.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>148 INT.   HABITATION UNIT                   NIGHT          148
</b><b>    
</b>    - The lurch throws SAM to one side. He picks himself up,
    and, fighting the centrifugal force, works his way to the
    shuttered window which is at the front end of the house,
    in the wall opposite the door. SAM undoes the shutters and
    finds himself looking at the rear window of JILL's cab. He
    sees the back of the DRIVER's head. The DRIVER is wearing
    JILL's cap. He sees the back of the DRIVER's cab. He bangs
    on the glass of the cab. The DRIVER raises her head so
    that the face is visible to SAM in the driving mirror. He
    sees that it is JILL, in a flat cap. She smiles at him.
    SAM sobs with relief and love.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>149 EXT.   THE ROAD                          NIGHT         149
</b><b>    
</b>    The lorry, travelling slowly now, approaches then breasts
    the rise beyond which lies ... looking more than ever ...
    JILL'S VALLEY. We ZOOM towards it through a MIX ...
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>150 INT.   TRAVELLING LORRY                  NIGHT         150
</b><b>    
</b>    Through the windscreen we see the dawn coming up ahead.
    The reverse shot shows us JILL driving and SAM next to
    her. They glance at each other.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>151 EXT.   SMALL ROAD                        EARLY MORNING 151
</b><b>    
</b>    The lorry, travelling slowly now, approaches and then
    breasts the rise beyond which lies ... A STUNNINGLY
    BEAUTIFUL UNTOUCHED VALLEY. We ZOOM towards it through a
<b>    MIX ...
</b><b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>152 EXT.   BEAUTIFUL VALLEY                  DAY           152
</b><b>    
</b>    Half hidden in the heart of the valley is the truck with
    the house on its back. Creepers and wild roses have grown
    up over the truck and some of the house. A curl of smoke
    rises from a makeshift chimney which has been attached to
    one of the walls. A small piece of ground around the truck
    has been cleared and made into a pretty garden with a
    vegetable plat. There is also a pretty cow, and some
    chickens. JILL appears locking like CRUSOE carrying a
    basket of eggs.
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>153 INT.   HOUSE                             MORNING       153
</b><b>    
</b>    SAM is in the bed, just waking up. He opens his eyes,
    locking calm. Off screen we hear the door opening.
<b>    
</b>                       JILL (off screen)
               Morning. Sleep well?
<b>    
</b>    SAM nods his head slightly, on the pillow.
<b>    
</b><b>                              SAM
</b>                    (quietly)
               I don't dream anymore.
                    (he embraces her)
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b><b>154 EXT.   HOUSE AND GARDEN                  MORNING       154
</b><b>    
</b>    A high shot. Everything in the garden is definitely
    lovely. The music tells us. The music swells and the
    camera slowly pulls back, and back. It's a happy ending.
    And then, in the foreground, TWO HUGE HEADS appear looking
    straight at the camera. It is MR HELPMANN and JACK. They
    both shake their heads.
<b>    
</b><b>                          MR HELPMANN
</b>               He's got away from us, Jack.
<b>    
</b>    CUT to their POV.
<b>    
</b><b>155 INT.   INFORMATION RETRIEVAL ROOM        DAY            155
</b><b>    
</b>    Sam is sitting in the IR chair. He is strapped in. His
    eyes are open but miles away. His face is wreathed in a
    benign and very happy smile.
<b>    
</b><b>                             JACK
</b>               I'm afraid you're right, Mr.
               Helpmann. He's gone.
<b>    
</b>    A wide shot of the room shows us HELPMANN and LINT turn
    away and leave. SAM is left alone. He is humming.. The
    camera pulls back and back. The Information Retrieval room
    with SAM in it floats away into the most beautiful
    glorious sky ever.
<b>    
</b>    SAM's humming into a full orchestra, and we hear ......
<b>    
</b><b>    
</b>               "Brazil, where hearts were entertained in June,
               We stood beneath an amber moon,
               And softly murmured 'Some day soon'
               We kissed and clung together,
               Then, tomorrow was another day.
               The morning found me miles away,
               With still a million things to say,
               Now, when twilight beams the sky above,
               Recalling thrills of our love,
               There's one thing I'm certain of,
               Return, I will,
               To old Brazil."

<b>    THE END
</b>
<b></PRE>
</b><b>
</b><b></b></pre><br>
<table width="85%" border="0" align="center" cellpadding="5" cellspacing="0" class="body" style="BORDER-TOP: #000000 1px solid; BORDER-RIGHT: #000000 1px solid; BORDER-LEFT: #000000 1px solid; BORDER-BOTTOM: #000000 1px solid;">
  <tr> 
	<td align=center>
	<td><h1>Brazil</h1><br><br>
	    <b>Writers</b> : &nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="/writer.php?w=Terry Gilliam" title="Scripts by Terry Gilliam">Terry Gilliam</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="/writer.php?w=Charles McKeown" title="Scripts by Charles McKeown">Charles McKeown</a><br>
    	<b>Genres</b> : &nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="/genre/Comedy" title="Comedy Scripts">Comedy</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="/genre/Fantasy" title="Fantasy Scripts">Fantasy</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="/genre/Sci-Fi" title="Sci-Fi Scripts">Sci-Fi</a><br><br><br>
		
		<a href="/Movie Scripts/Brazil Script.html#comments" title="Brazil comments">User Comments</a>
	</td>
</table>
<br><br>
<div align="center">
<a href="https://www.imsdb.com" title="Internet Movie Script Database"><img src="/images/lilbutton.gif" style="border: 1px solid black;"  alt="Internet Movie Script Database" border=1><br>
Back to IMSDb</a>
</div><br>
<br><br>
  </tr>
</table>
<br><br>
</table>

<table width="99%" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" class="body">
  <tr> 
  <td background="/images/reel.gif" height="13" colspan="2">
</table>

<div align="center">
 <a href="https://www.imsdb.com" title="Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb)">Index</a> 
 &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;|&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 <a href="/submit" title="Submit scripts">Submit</a> 
 &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;|&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 <a href="/links" title="Other sites">Links</a> 
 &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;|&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 <a href="/link to us" title="Link to IMSDb">Link to us</a> 
 &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;|&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 <a href="/feeds" title="IMSDb RSS Feeds">RSS Feeds</a> 
 &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;|&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 <a href="/disclaimer">Disclaimer</a> 
 &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;|&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 <a href="/privacy">Privacy policy</a> 
</div>

<br />

</body>
</html>
Who is Ida obsessed with?
Who is Ida obsessed with ?
Dr. Jaffe
Dr. Jaffe
Dr. Jaffe
Dr. Jaffe