Arcade

Arcade  

                                     by
                                David S. Goyer

                       Last revised November 6, 1990

INT. ARCADE WORLD -- ELECTRONIC DARKNESS

We don't know if it's night or day.  It's just black.

And maybe...maybe intermittent SPARKS racing by.  So quick we barely
perceive them.  Like the sparks you imagine when your eyes are closed.

BREATHING,

slow and hollow, filling up the entire world.  It's eerie as hell.  A
feeling of utter loneliness.

And now the breathing recedes, fading into the darkness.  Whatever it
was...it's gone now.

MAIN CREDITS ROLL.

We hear CELLOS.  Four of them.  Weaving an intricate melody.

And now the visuals.  BRIGHTLY COLORED SHAPES spinning in.  Equally
intricate, matching the music.  They grow and flourish, like flowers
opening up in time lapse photography.

FRACTALS...

is what they're called.  The visual manifestation of geometric formulas.
The Mandelbrot Set.  The Julia Set.  Each mathematic form made up of
progressively smaller forms and on into infinity.

Glorious and beautiful.  Forms folding in upon themselves and
regenerating.

This is creation we're witnessing.

This is life in the making.

       DISSOLVE TO:

INT. COUNSELOR'S OFFICE -- DAY

AN EYE

For a brief moment we still hear the CELLOS.  And in the eye, the last of
the fractals are spinning away, leaving us with the iris.  A nice blue
one.  This is ALEX MANNING'S eye.

    ALEX (V.O.)
  Time.  That's all I ever think about
  anymore.  It's like there's never enough of
  it, you know?

        CUT TO:

INT.  MANNING HOUSE, HALLWAY -- DAY

This is a flashback, in case you're wondering.  We'll continue to hear
Alex's VOICE as we move through the house in slow motion.  Everything is
very bright and dreamlike.

Right now we're moving with the camera, slowly moving down a long hallway.
At the end of the hallway is an open door.

We stop at the doorway.  We're afraid to go in.

    ALEX (V.O.)
  It's strange.  When the future's in front
  of you, it seems to go on forever.  I mean,
  you never really get there.  It's always
  one step ahead of you.  It's like there's
  no present. There's no "now".  As soon as
  you think, "I'm here", the moment's already
  gone.  Either everything's in the future,
  or it's in the past.
   (beat)
  There's no "now".

    MAN (V.O.)
  So where are you then?

    ALEX (V.O.)
  I'm in the past.

We move through the doorway.

INT.  MANNING HOUSE, BEDROOM -- DAY

Everything looks normal at first.  A typical bedroom with sunlight
streaming in through the windows.  A bed, made-up. Flowers in vases.
Everything looks perfect.

Then we move further in, and over to the right.  There's something on the
floor, curled up in the entranceway to the bathroom.  Halfway in, halfway
out.

It's a woman's body.  She's wearing a dress, her legs awkwardly bent.  We
can't see her face from this angle. But in her limp hand is a gun.  And
all around that hand, speckling the pristine white tile of the bathroom
and the carpeting beyond, is BLOOD.

A shrill BELL shatters the moment.

        CUT TO:

INT.  COUNSELOR'S OFFICE -- DAY

The bell continues.  It's a school bell signaling the end of the period.

ON ALEX

as we see her for the first time, startled.  She's seventeen and pretty,
though in a simple way.  Her eyes are the most striking.  Deep.  Intense.
If Alex has a problem, it's the fact that she thinks too much, and it's
reflected in her eyes.

Across from her is MR. WEAVER, a high-school guidance counselor and that
was his voice we heard with Alex's. He's unexceptional, middle-aged,
incapable of really hearing what Alex has to say.  This is his office
we're in. Typical "SAY NO TO DRUGS" teen propaganda decorate the room.
Fun.

As the BELL dies we hear the army of FOOTSTEPS outside, students milling
in the halls.

Alex glances at the door and starts to rise from her chair.

    MR. WEAVER
  We don't have to stop now...

    ALEX
   (cutting him off)
  That's okay.  I've got a test coming up
  anyway.  Gotta study.

    MR. WEAVER
   (sighs)
  I have to tell you, I'm a little concerned
  about you, Alex.  It's been three months
  now since your mother, uh...

    ALEX
   (offering, fixing him with
   a stare)
  Killed herself?

Mr. Weaver stops, more than a little uncomfortable.

    MR. WEAVER
   (reluctant)
  Yes.  Now your father...

    ALEX
  He's a basket case.  You've talked to him.
  You know that.  He might as well be dead
  too.

Alex glances down at the floor, anything to avoid looking at the
counselor.  She heaves a backpack onto to shoulder.

    ALEX
   (continuing)
  Look Mr. Weaver, I don't even know why I
  came here.  I fine.  Really.
   (looking up)
  It's like I said.  It's just part of the
  past now.  It doesn't matter anymore.

She turns, and before Mr. Weaver can respond, she's out the door.

INT.  HIGH-SCHOOL HALLWAY - DAY

Alex moves quickly through the mass of STUDENTS, wiping the remnants of
half-tears on her coat sleeve.

        CUT TO:

INT.  HIGH-SCHOOL CAFETERIA - DAY

Fun-time.  Total chaos.  If you've been to high-school you know the riff.
Bad food, teen-age melodrama, and a squadron of SUPERVISORS trying to keep
a lid on things.

ALEX

makes her way to the far corner of the cafeteria where a cluster of kids
lounge around a table.  These are Alex's FRIENDS.  And while none of them
are your garden variety pocket-protector-type nerds, these kids aren't
exactly part of the "in-crowd".  They're a little off.  Quirky.  All of
them come from screwed up families, and that's what bonds them.  They are:

GREG HOLLISTON -- Alex's boyfriend.  Hopeful artist (not bad, either) and
kind of punk looking.  Greg and the others are big fans of thrift-shop
clothing.  Because they don't have the money, they improvise.

NICK DRAKE -- Greg's best friend and future computer pioneer.  He's
attractive and he's got an edge.  A bit of a hot-shot.  Genius in the
making.

BENZ AND STILTS -- Inseparable.  Benz is flunking out of school and would
like nothing better than to spend the rest of his life reading comic
books.  He's tall, perpetually unkempt, awkward, and nervous.  Stilts,
contrary to his nickname, is quite short and never without his skateboard.
Stilts is constantly hitting on...

LAURIE -- The sixth member of the group.  A teen Theda Bara and as cynical
as you can get.  She's what's affectionately known as an "art chick".

The boys in the group, particularly Nick and Stilts, are avid
skateboarders and are frequently seen with their boards.  Stilts is always
leafing through an issue of THRASHER magazine.

Right now the group is in the midst of an argument.  Nick has a pocket
video game in his hands which he casually plays.  He can get through these
games in his sleep.  It BEEPS and WHIRS.

    NICK
   (to Benz)
  You're an idiot, you know that? What're you
  going to do when you get out of here?

    BENZ
  I was thinking about writing for one of
  those Filipino mail order brides...

Stilts and Greg burst into laughter.

    STILTS
  I think I saw that on the Home Shopping
  Network.  The Girlfriend Hour, right after
  Auto Accessories.

    BENZ
   (giggling)
  Exactly.

    LAURIE
  You guys are sick.

Alex flops down in a chair and everyone turns.

    GREG
  So how'd it go?

Alex shrugs, trying to make light of it.

    ALEX
  He thinks I'm "sublimating".

    STILTS
  What the hell does that mean?

    LAURIE
  It means she's screwed up.

    STILTS
  Fucked up.  That's what they said I was.

    BENZ
  You are fucked up.

    STILTS
  Yeah, but only because I want to be.

    GREG
  Would you guys knock it off?

Greg turns back to Alex and looks her in the eye.

    GREG
   (continuing)
  Listen to me, Alex.  These counselor's
  don't know anything.  They're full of shit.
  If you don't fit the pattern of the perfect
  kid, they freak.

    ALEX
   (nodding)
  I know.

    GREG
  So tell me you're okay, then.

    ALEX
  I'm okay.

    GREG
   (smiles)
  Good.   Cause I'd freak if you weren't.

Greg leans over and kisses Alex.  The rest of the group launches into
exaggerated GROANS, with Benz and Stilts fluttering their eyes and making
"smooching faces" at each other.  The kiss is over and everyone LAUGHS.

Things are okay now.

    GREG
   (to Alex)
  Hey...watch this...

Greg pulls an old Polaroid camera from his backpack.  He leans in close to
her and holds the camera at arm's length, aiming it back at them.  FLASH!
And the moment's captured forever.

Greg pulls the Polaroid out and peels off the backing. Before the picture
even develops, he begins rubbing his fingers over it, manipulating the
emulsion.

    NICK
   (engrossed in his game
   again)
  You making another one, Greg?

    GREG
  Sure.  Practice.

    BENZ
  Lemme see...

Greg pulls some papers from his backpack and slides them over to Benz.
The papers are color xeroxes of Polaroid blow-ups.  Greg has messed with
them, creating swirling, psychedelic patterns with the images.  Stilts and
Laurie lean in.

    STILTS
  Cool.

    GREG
   (still working)
  See, when the emulsion's still warm you can
  move it around...
   (stops)
  There.

Greg holds up the Polaroid for Alex to see.

POLAROID

Greg and Alex are side by side, grinning...all around them the world has
spun into strange colors.  It's an odd effect.

Greg drops the photo in his shirt pocket and pats it.

    GREG
  Safe keeping.

Meanwhile, Nick's pocket video game emits an EXPLOSION NOISE.

    NICK
  Shit.  I'm out.

He sets the game down, dejected.

    BENZ
  You guys going to Dante's after school?

    GREG
  I don't know.

    BENZ
  Check it out...

Benz pulls a flyer from inside his coat.  It's an ad for a new game called
"ARCADE", featuring a pair of evil eyes and glowing hands coming out of a
circuit board.  The tag at the bottom reads, "COMING THIS FALL.  REALITY
WILL NEVER BE THE SAME".

    NICK
   (excited)
  That's the new Slip-Stream game. Those guys
  are good.  It's supposed to be interactive.
  Graphics are unbelievable.