PLASTIC MAN

The moment he bursts in and sees the ruptured test tank

melting into the white mucous of the assembler waste --

He faints.

                         POPPY

          Great.

INT.  ARGON'S OFFICE

Nebbleman lifts his face from the paper bag he was

breathing in.  Panic is cracking his voice.

                         NEBBLEMAN

          Okay.  Alright.  Okey-dokey.  Now,

          we need the nanobot.  The nanobot

          that initiated the reaction.  Once

          we have that we can stabilize the

          meltdown.  Simple really.  No

          problem.

                         ARGON

          The nanobot is gone.

Nebbleman's voice rises several octaves.

                         NEBBLEMAN

          Gone?  What do you mean gone?  Gone

          where?

His knees buckle as Argon does not answer.

                         ARGON

          Dr. Nebbleman, we are scientists,

          you and I and men of science are not

          concerned with emotions and

          opinions.  We are concerned with

          facts.

Nebbleman is hyperventilating, like a mouse caught in a

glue trap.

                         ARGON

          The fact is, that the milk has been

          spilled and now we need you to tell

          us how to clean it up.

                         NEBBLEMAN

          Cleaned up?  It can't be cleaned up!

          Without the nanobot the waste can't

          be stabilized!  That's what we've

          been trying to tell you!  The only

          thing we can do is run!  Run!  Run!

Argon signals to Poppy.  Poppy slaps Nebbleman.  Nebbleman

is quiet.

                         ARGON

          Facts, Dr. Nebbleman.  Facts.

          You've been using cryogenics to

          control the waste from the mouse

          experiment, haven't you?

                         NEBBLEMAN

          Well, yes.  The replicators are not

          as active at low temperatures.

                         ARGON

          Then perhaps we can use liquid

          nitrogen to keep the meltdown under

          control.

                         NEBBLEMAN

          That might work.

                         ARGON

          Poppy, order the trucks from the

          Gary plant.  And we're going to need

          a containment crew.

                         POPPY

          A containment crew is going to

          attract a lot of attention.

                         ARGON

          You're right.  Place a call to our

          friends at the network and to Mr.

          Joplin at the E.P.A.

                         NEBBLEMAN

          How did this happen?  How did the

          nanobot activate the assembler

          fluid?  If I'm going to help, I

          have to know what happened.

Argon studies Nebbleman for a moment.

                         ARGON

          All right, Dr. Nebbleman.  Come with

          me and I'll tell you everything.

Motoring his chair around, Argon leads Nigel to the

conservatory.

The elevator slides open and Sim gets out leading a muddy

Doby.

                         POPPY

          Mr. Sim, did you find him?

Sim has O'Brien's wad of clothes tucked under his arm.

                         SIM

          No, but if he's alive I think I know

          where he might go.

He holds up the key to O'Brien's hotel room; the plastic

key chain stamped, "Admiral Hotel."

INT.  ADMIRAL HOTEL - NIGHT

A muddy bare footprint, black grime against green shag.

We PULL BACK and see another, then another, the tracks

leading toward the white light of the bathroom door.

We CLOSE IN ON the bilious white of the steam, the warble

of O'Brien whimpering and shivering even in the scalding

water.

He begins to sneeze and cough as if something were

tickling the back of his throat.  He snorts at it,

inhaling through his nose, trying to suck it out.

Finally, he spits a clear silicon-like wad of phlegm that

remains connected to his mouth by a long rubbery strand.

He spits at it, and it stretches until he flicks it off

with his hand.

It hangs on the wall for a moment like a sticky rubber

slug before being swept down the tub drain.

INT.  SUSAN BRIGHT'S LAB

We RISE THROUGH the floor drain.

Wearing a special insulated contamination suit, Nebbleman

is on hands and knees examining the lab floor.

He lifts a hand and we see an impression that gradually

fades as if the ground were a sheet of foam.

He slaps it hard and the tile ripples like a waterbed.

                         NEBBLEMAN

          Oh God, it's worse than I thought.

He runs for the door leaving a trail of footprints.

                         NEBBLEMAN

          Get that crew in here.  Now!

EXT.  ARGON LAB - NIGHT

Outside the lab a flurry of activity erupts.

Thick hoses are attached to the belly of giant tanker

trucks.

Brilliant portable kliegs illuminate the grounds like a

ball park.

Men in bulbous insulated space suits milk the tankers

filling scuba-like canisters that are worn on their backs.

The bold letters on the back of the tanker read:  "WARNING

-- LIQUID NITROGEN."

Slowly we MOVE TOWARD the "O" in "NITROGEN." It OPENS in

front of us like a yawning tunnel which we DESCEND INTO.

INT.  ADMIRAL HOTEL ROOM - DAY

O'Brien is in a deep sleep, mouth wide open, his breathing

rasped.  Turning his face deeper into his pillow, he is

suddenly unable to breathe.

He sucks for air with a strained gurgle.  His eyes pop

open, still suffocating and he bolts upright.

We see that his neck has been twisted around like a

knotted sheet.

His head spins around and snaps back into place.

                         O'BRIEN

          Mommy?

He is dizzy and confused.  He rubs his head and neck,

panic seeping into his expression as he begins to remember

last night's events.

He looks down seeing the muddy footprints on the carpet.

O'Brien touches his neck where he was injected.

                         O'BRIEN

          Uh oh.

Suddenly the door whaps open, Sim and Doby FILLING the

FRAME.

                         SIM

          Good morning, Mr. O'Brien!

Still in his underwear, O'Brien jumps from the bed.

                         O'BRIEN

          You!  I remember you!

                         SIM

          I'm real touched.  Now get your

          Sunday's on.  We're going for a

          ride.

He throws O'Brien's pants at him.

                         O'BRIEN

          What?  I'm not going anywhere!

                         SIM

          Oh yes you are!

                         O'BRIEN

          I get it.  You're the goon fetch

          boy.  The zookeeper Argon calls in

          when one of his guinea pigs gets

          loose.

                         SIM

          That's right.

Sim opens his coat showing O'Brien his firearm.

                         SIM

          Only this ain't no tranquilizer gun.

          Now let's go!

                         O'BRIEN

          Forget it, pissboy!  You tell Argon

          he can call my lawyer.

Sim reaches for his gun.

                         SIM

          The hard way it is!

O'Brien heaves a Yellow Pages at Sim which sails past his

head.  He leaps behind the coffee table.

Sim points the gun at O'Brien's head.

                         SIM

          Not smart!  You forgot I've got the

          gun!

O'Brien, on his toes, keeps the table in between him and

Sim.

                         O'BRIEN

          Then let's see you use it, bucko!

          Dr. Argon's not going to take it

          very well that you killed his

          experiment.

Sim snorts.

                         SIM

          Okay.  Okay.  Doby?

He waves Doby to the other side of the table.  But before

they can grab him, O'Brien spins away from Sim and bolts

for the window.

He throws it open, yelling.

                         O'BRIEN

          Help!  Somebody help me!

Sim and Doby tackle him from behind.

                         SIM

          I'll take care of this.  Hold him.

Sim raises his gun high into the air --

                         SIM

          Lights out.

And brings it down on O'Brien's head.  It rebounds off of

O'Brien's skull which in turn rebounds off the floor.

                         O'BRIEN

          Ow!

Sim raises it again.

                         SIM

          I said -- Lights out!

And again smashes O'Brien in the head to no effect.

                         O'BRIEN

          Ouchhh!  Cut it out!

Sim looks at the gun then repeatedly brings a hail of

blows onto O'Brien whose head bounces off the gun and

floor like a dribbling basketball.

O'Brien grabs his head as Sim tires.

                         O'BRIEN

          Jesus!

Panting, Sim holsters his gun.

                         SIM

          Get his legs.

O'Brien lunges, grabbing the window sill as the two men

each take a leg.

                         O'BRIEN

          No!

They heave at his legs trying to wrench him from the sill.

O'Brien's body raises off the floor.

Struggling and straining with all of his might, O'Brien

looks up to secure his grip and his eyes go wide.

O'Brien's arms have begun to stretch.  He looks back over

his shoulder to see that his legs also have begun to

stretch.

Sim and Doby seem to notice at the same time, that they

have stretched O'Brien halfway to the door.

                         SIM

          Holy shit!

The two men let go of O'Brien's legs and he is flung like

a slingshot out of the room.

                         SIM

          Holy shit!

He cartwheels in the space outside the window, splayed and

flailing spastically.

The people, nine floors down, scream as O'Brien plummets

toward them.

O'Brien's tearing eyes clamp shut in the face of onrushing

pavement, a faint sound caught in his ear.  An ascending

twang, like a tightening guitar string.

Whump.  O'Brien hits the ground, unsure if he's alive of

dead.

A woman screams.

He rattles his head and opens his eyes.  There is a woman

in front of him, her face buried in her hands.

O'Brien tries to stand.

                         O'BRIEN

          Oh God -- am I dead?

Hearing him, the woman peers out from shielding fingers.

She looks up at his arm and screams again.

O'Brien is confused.  Slowly he turns, following her gaze

up, up, up.  His arm stretches up to the ninth story

window, like a safety line, his hand still gripping the

sill.  His face contorts in horror.

O'Brien screams, letting go.

Loopy wet spaghetti strands collect on the sidewalk in a

pile as his arm falls.  The crowd collectively inhales.

The hand plops on the top of the pile like some strange

garnish.

O'Brien whimpers.

A CAR SCREECHES to a stop and O'Brien jumps back at the

sound.  As he lands, his body jerking to the side, his arm

suddenly begins reeling in like a fishing line.

The crowd's heads swivel back and forth watching the arm

snap back to normal in a loud whip-crack.

                         O'BRIEN

          Oh God.

He cradles the arm under the stare of the gaper's block.

Chest heaving, he stumbles back two steps.

He shoots a look up at his apartment window.  The shadows

of Sim and Doby look down.

He bolts.

INT.  ADMIRAL HOTEL ROOM

Sim and Doby watch open-mouthed as O'Brien disappears down

the street.

                         SIM

          This is going to take some

          explaining.

Sim whips out his cellular phone and dials.

                         SIM

          Mrs. Argon?  It's Sim.

                         POPPY (V.O.)

          Mr. Sim?  Do you have him?  He's

          alive?

                         SIM

          Oh yeah, he's alive.  Technically.

                         POPPY (V.O.)

          And you have him?

                         SIM

          We lost him.

INT.  ARGON'S OFFICE

Poppy sits atop the massive ebony slab of Argon's desk,

the phone pressed to her ear.

                         POPPY

          Here, you tell him.

She smiles and hands the phone to Argon.

                         ARGON

          Mr. Sim, you know I sooner kill the

          messenger then listen to bad news.

INT.  ADMIRAL HOTEL ROOM

Sim swallows hard.

                         SIM

          Don't worry there, Dr. Argon.  He

          gave us the slip, in a manner of

          speaking.  But we're definitely

          closing in on him.

Doby frowns.

                         ARGON (V.O.)

          Mr. Sim, when you do locate him.  Do

          not scare him off again.  Just watch

          him.  I think you can handle that.

          Right, Mr. Sim?

                         SIM

          You got it, Dr. Argon.

He hangs up.

                         SIM

          Shit!

Sim slams his hands on the desk and looks down to find the

pictures of Dr. Bright, a heart encircling it.

                         SIM

          Hello?

EXT.  ARGON LABS - DAY

We are LOOKING THROUGH the LENS of a local network news

camera on location outside Argon Labs.  The CAMERA RACK

FOCUSES and PANS TO network reporter, SPENCER LAMM.

                         SPENCER

          Tawney, I'm standing in front of the

          security station just outside of

          Argon Labs in Calumet City.  Since

          seven o'clock this morning, when

          security guards barred the weekend

          staff here at Argon Labs, rumors

          have been circulating as to the

          nature of the accident that occurred

          here last night.

He looks over his shoulder as an unmarked tanker rolls

past the security gate.

                         SPENCER

          All we know for sure is that at

          9:30 a.m., two sedans carrying the

          county sheriff and men who have been

          identified as high-ranking officials

          of the E.P.A. entered the Argon

          offices and have not come out.

INT.  SUSAN BRIGHT'S BROWNSTONE

We PULL BACK REVEALING the reporter on television in the

kitchen.

                         SPENCER (V.O.)

          We expect a statement some time

          today, but until then we can only

          speculate that whatever did happen

          here, which has crews working around

          the clock, no one was prepared for.

          This has been Spencer Lamm live at

          Argon Labs.

Susan drops her coffee cup when she hears the name.  She

rushes to turn up the volume but the special report is

over.

She is searching the other stations when someone POUNDS on

her door.

THROUGH the peep-hole she sees O'Brien, his face WARPED by

the WIDE-ANGLE LENS.

                         SUSAN

          Oh shit...

With the chain still on, she opens the door.

                         O'BRIEN

          Susie!  You gotta help me!

                         SUSAN

          Daniel, what are you doing here?

                         O'BRIEN

          Please, Susan!  I need help!

          Something is wrong with me!

                         SUSAN

          Sorry, Daniel, I'm a physicist, not

          a psychiatrist.

                         O'BRIEN

          No, something is really wrong...

          look!

He stuffs his arms into the three-inch slot between the

door and the jamb then squeezes his body and head through.

Susan steps back, her mouth falls open.

                         SUSAN

          You... you...

She points at him then at the television.

                         O'BRIEN

          They did it to me!

                         SUSAN

          The nanobot.

As O'Brien spits the story out his gestures become more

animated.

                         O'BRIEN

          Last night, Argon's goons grabbed

          me, the big one hit me, probably did

          severe cranio-sacral damage and bam,

          I drop to the floor, and then Argon

          was there, and it became like a bad

          dream.  Everyone was laughing as he

          stuck this big needle in my neck and

          then I'm not sure what happened but

          I came to in a metal tank and they

          drowned me with white goo and I

          thought I was dead, everything soft

          and blurry and the next thing I know

          I wake up back in my hotel and

          Argon's goons bust in and we fight

          and I fall out the window and again

          I thought I was a goner, but I hit

          the ground and I bounce and I look

          up and my arm is really really long

          and I know, I know I shouldn't have

          been in your lab but Jesus Christ,

          Susan, feel my skin, feel it!  It

          feels like plastic!

He reaches his arm across the room and she feels his hand.

                         SUSAN

          ... just like the mouse.

                         O'BRIEN

          Mouse?  What mouse?

                         SUSAN

          My first organic-polymerization was

          a lab mouse.

                         O'BRIEN

          What happened to it?

                         SUSAN

          I don't know.

He jerks his hand away.

                         O'BRIEN

          You don't know?

                         SUSAN

          It escaped from the lab before we

          could finish the experiment.

                         O'BRIEN

          But you've polymerized single-celled

          bacteria and the fruit flies, I know

          you have.

                         SUSAN

          Yes.

                         O'BRIEN

          Then you must have at some point

          tried to reverse the procedure.

She nods but it is not the kind of nod he was hoping for.