PLASTIC MAN

She holds up a tiny red suit that looks big enough for a

G.I. Joe doll.

                         O'BRIEN

          What's that?

                         SUSAN

          It's a crime fighting costume, what

          do you think?  It's underwear, so if

          you lose your clothes you'll still

          be decent.

                         O'BRIEN

          That's going to fit me?

                         SUSAN

          Like a glove.

He pulls at it.  It stretches easily.

                         O'BRIEN

          You made this out of my hair?

                         SUSAN

          Sort of.  We used a process similar

          to the vulcanization of rubber and

          added bulk with a chain of

          chloroprene elastomers.

He shakes his head.

                         O'BRIEN

          I bet you still kill at Scrabble.

She smiles.

                         SUSAN

          Go on, try it on.  Oh wait...

She reaches back into her bag.

                         SUSAN

          There was some extra, so I made

          these.

In her palm are two little red boots.

                         O'BRIEN

          Cute.

As he crosses to the bathroom we see the television is

again updating the crisis at Argon Labs.

                         SUSAN

          Did you go?

                         O'BRIEN

          On the counter.

She grabs the sample, heading immediately for the

basement, when the television catches her eye.

INT.  BATHROOM

O'Brien crams one foot in and then the other.  The

material stretches miraculously.

                         O'BRIEN

          Groovy.

INT.  SUSAN'S LIVING ROOM

O'Brien bounds out of the bathroom.

                         O'BRIEN

          'In brightest day, nor darkest

          night.  No evil shall escape my

          sight.'

Susan is silent in front of the TV, the sound now ON.  She

is still holding the beaker.

                         O'BRIEN

          What is it?

He moves around her and sees his own face on the screen.

It is the black and white photo of him about to sneeze.

At the bottom of the screen is the title, "Voice of Dr.

Warren Wertham."

                         DR. WERTHAM (V.O.)

          ... an extremely volatile individual

          given to emotional outbursts.

                         O'BRIEN

          Wertham?  That's no good.

                         SUSAN

          Who is he?

                         O'BRIEN

          The head shrinker at the prison.

                         DR. WERTHAM (V.O.)

          ... paranoid delusions and prone to

          hero fantasies all of which are

          characteristic of a form of

          infantile dementia.

                         O'BRIEN

          Ha!  What a crock.  He couldn't be

          more wrong, could he?

She says nothing.

                         O'BRIEN

          I said, could he?

The sneeze picture shrinks to an insert over the anchor

woman, Tawney Towers' shoulder.

                         TAWNEY (V.O.)

          Once again, at this time,

          authorities continue their statewide

          manhunt for the man believed

          responsible for the situation

          developing at Argon Labs.  As

          reports come in, News Center 5 will

          continue to update you.

Susan cuts it OFF.

                         SUSAN

          Oh no.  They're trying to blame you

          for the accident.  That means they

          must not have been able to control

          the replicators.

                         O'BRIEN

          I can't go back to jail.  I gotta

          get out of here.

                         SUSAN

          You're not going back to jail.  All

          we need to do is find the nanobot.

          Once the meltdown is under control,

          then we deal with Argon --

Suddenly, the front door explodes open, the jamb easily

splintering under Doby's girth.

Doby and Sim barrel in, pistols pointing.

                         SUSAN

          What in the hell?

                         SIM

          Pipe down, brain lady!  And you...

The gun sweeps toward O'Brien.

                         SIM

          I'd curb that monkey business,

          lessin' you want to find out if that

          rubber skin of yours is bulletproof.

          Now, keep your hands where I can see

          them.

He notices the urine sample.

                         SIM

          What's that?

Susan doesn't miss a beat.

                         SUSAN

          Lemonade.  Do you want some?

She offers him the beaker.  Sim considers it.

                         SIM

          No thanks.

Back to business.

                         SIM

          Put it down and let's go.  Someone

          wants to talk to you.

He waves them out the front door as she sets the beaker on

the counter.

EXT.  SUSAN BRIGHT'S BROWNSTONE

The black LIMO FIRES UP as the foursome approach.  Sim

opens the back door for O'Brien and Dr. Bright.

                         SIM

          Get in.

INT.  LIMO

In the artificial coolness, Daniel O'Brien sits with

Icarus Argon, across from Poppy, Susan, and Dr. Nebbleman.

In the rear window we see Sim's Lincoln follow.

Poppy brandishes a chrome revolver from her handbag.

Argon smiles in the shady light, makeup covering the more

abrasive features of his spotty skin.

                         ARGON

          My apologies to you both for the

          rather rude invitation but I had to

          see you.  And, Dr. Bright, your

          house isn't...

He motions to his blanket-draped legs.

                         ARGON

          Wheelchair accessible.

                         SUSAN

          Dr. Argon, I demand an explanation.

                         O'BRIEN

          I can explain it.  Attempted murder

          wasn't enough for him.  He wants to

          add kidnapping to the charges.

                         ARGON

          If you'd like, we can go straight to

          the authorities.  I understand they

          are very interested in talking to

          you.

O'Brien's only response is to grind his teeth in silence.

                         ARGON

          We haven't been properly introduced,

          Mr. O'Brien.  I am Icarus Argon.

He offers his hand, taking O'Brien's.

He closes his eyes, beginning to caress O'Brien's hand

between the withered brown flesh of his own.

                         ARGON

          Do you know how I made my first

          fortune?  Poly vinyl chloride.

          P.V.C.  It was almost thirty years

          ago when I first held a credit card

          in my hands.  There was something

          about the way it felt.  I told

          myself, paper was doomed.  This was

          the future...

He looks at O'Brien's hand, lets go.

                         ARGON

          ... plastic.

                         O'BRIEN

          Wow, that is one moving story.  Take

          it easy on my heart strings.  Now I

          really feel guilty complaining about

          you shooting me up with your poison.

                         ARGON

          Poison?  I'm surprised at you.  You

          lack vision, Mr. O'Brien.

                         O'BRIEN

          You're lacking a few things too:

          ethics, morals, common decency and,

          oh yeah, deodorant.

Argon smiles.  His coolness irritates O'Brien.

                         ARGON

          Look at me, Mr. O'Brien.  I once

          competed for Mr. Universe but now I

          am reduced to this, a withered

          shell.  A prison of rot.

He leans into O'Brien.

                         ARGON

          People ask me what I did to myself.

          I answer, what didn't I do?!  I

          treat me body like I treat the rest

          of the world, as a force to be

          controlled.  Most people believe

          there is something sacred about the

          human body, about nature.  They are

          the same fools who thought the

          world was flat.

O'Brien smirks.