INNERSPACE

INNERSPACE  

Original Screenplay

by

Chip Proser

May 20, 1984

First Draft

A STRANGE LANDSCAPE.

Like the surface of some alien planet. CELESTIAL FORMS spin

in the distance. DROP DOWN over a topography of rolling hills.

ALVIN 5 - THE POD

A titanium alloy sphere; the strongest form to withstand

great pressures. A streamlined mantle houses propellers,

batteries, articulated arms - one containing a carbon-dioxide

laser. Maneuvering thrusters protrude next to antennae.

WEIRD SUBMARINE FORMS

glow in artificial light. We float over undulating undersea

hills. Tendrils of beautiful growths wave in the currents.

AL (VO)

...one small schlep for mankind...

INT. - ALVIN 5

THE MAN INSIDE is Al Viola, 35, ex-Marine, ex-astronaut.

He holds a doctorate in Medieval Languages from the Sorbonne.

He is worldly, highly trained. Right now he's elated as well.

AL

...but it means money in

the bank to me.

A VOICE cuts in - The Mission Control Officer - COLIN

COLIN - VO

Could you to stop counting

your profits long enough for

a systems check...

AL

This is a small breakthrough.

I've a right to make a statement.

A LAB SOMEWHERE

Technicians cluster around VIDEO SCREENS showing

feeds from LVIN'S MULTIPLE CAMERAS. One shot from the housing

faces forward. Another is of Al at the controls. Exotic equipment

surrounds him. A CLOCK is prominent. It reads: ELAPSED

MISSION TIME - 1 hour, 14 minutes. A third camera fixed to

a long extension arm, articulates 360% and shoots back to

show the POD.

COLIN

What a pain in the...Where did we

get this prima donna?...(into mike)

Then do try to keep it dignified.

Puns are a sign of oxygen

deprivation of the brain. Now give

us bank three, if you would.

AL

Alright, alright! Air filtration,

88; battery load, 76;...

Reception is perfect. Al reports full success. He reads off

instrument readings rapidly. His voice is clipped

and precise...a test pilot. Behind him, packed into every corner

of the tiny cockpit, are computers and scientific instruments.

THE LAB TECHNICIANS are taut, organized and highly

disciplined. There is a sense of purpose, of very important business.

THE SUBMERSIBLE swoops through valleys lined with

stranger growths. The craft is perfectly balanced, responsive

to the pilot's lightest touch.

END TITLES

SILICON VALLEY - DAWN

A peaceful setting; flowers on low, rolling hills, a high-tech

building complex - UNITED SYNERGISTIC TECHNOLOGIES.

TWO MEN ON A HILL OVERLOOKING UST.

They are fooling with something. It goes off. A rocket flares out in the

direction of the building, The rocketeer guides the flight of

the Remotely Piloted Vehicle on a video monitor.

ABOVE THE BUILDING, retro jets slow the craft. A small braking

chute blooms. It settles, braking jets fire briefly as it lands

softly on the rooftop air duct.

THE ROCKETEER hits a button; blue flame shoots out

the underside of the vehicle. It burns a tiny pinpoint through

the duct.

INT. UNITED SYNERGISTIC TECHNOLOGIES - A HIGH-TECH LAB

THE SAME ONE, SAME TIME - A TECH turns from the video

monitors and looks through a window into the main experimental

area...A maze of equipment. Some bizarre, tension-filled procedure

is going on. Techs in the control room smoke like fiends. Others

in the clean-room are enclosed head to foot in sterile coveralls.

CONTROL ROOM

Engineers note and dismiss a READING...

ENG 1

Air temp just went up.

ENG 2

We're drawing lots of power.

INT. UST FRONT OFFICE

Salesmen, job seekers crowd the busy

lobby. One applicant, Joe Doakes, 30, has a air of

desperation. His tie is too tight. His hair won't behave. He's

nicked himself shaving. The surveillance cameras make him nervous.

He checks his watch impatiently, rises and crosses to the receptionist.

JOE

Remember me?

She barely looks up...a 40 watt smile.

JOE

Joe Doakes? It's quarter to 10...

RECEPTIONIST.

I'm sorry. We're running behind.

So many applicants...so few jobs...

If you'll just have a seat.

JOE

I have a seat. I've had it since nine.

RECEPTIONIST.

...Mr. Athol will be with you as soon as

possible. Will you be able to wait?

JOE (he turns)

You're just lucky I need this job.

RECEPTIONIST.

Is there anything else?

JOE

A drink...

RECEPTIONIST.

Water fountain's through that door,

down the hall.

JOE

Thanks.

THE ROOF

The landing craft withdraws its torch,

deploys a nozzle-arm. PSSSSCCCHHHT. A colorless gas is emitted.

- A hallucinogen; debilitating but not fatal...not even

unpleasant. t makes people highly suggestible, pliable, complacent.

INT. LAB AND CONTROL ROOM-

Slowly, almost imperceptibly,

the hubbub and chatter die off. People stand and sit

as before, but slowly slow down...Cigarettes slow halfway to the

mouth...Coffee cups stop in mid-sip. In the lab, procedures just...slow.

A man at a control board looks down as if, suddenly, it's

all Greek...the lights and buttons suddenly foreign to him. Others

seem bemused, daydreaming...They smile at each other and

try to think of something to say. Some of them giggle.

EXT. THE VALLEY

A CHOPPER glides through the pass

and settles on the UST landing pad. Five figures exit the chopper,

all dressed alike; dark coveralls and boots, motorcycle

helmets with reflectored visors...A PRECISION ATTACK.

THE INTRUDERS - walk to the access door. They are

armed, disciplined, well drilled. Movement is unhurried

but efficient. They carry submachine guns. A GUARD eyes them placidly.

Their LEADER speaks through a radio directly into the UST

intercom. He is assured and calm. The GUARD is bemused... drugged.

LEADER

Hello.

GUARD

Hello

LEADER

We'd like to come in.

The guard is lethargic. The gas has sapped his will.

One part of his brain cannot accept what he is about to do. He

giggles softly at the thought of it, even as he is compelled to

obey.

GUARD

(giggling)

You'd like...to come in...

LEADER

Open the door please.

GUARD

(still giggling)

Open the door?... Certainly.

The door pops open. They enter and pass the bemused

guard.

LEADER

Thank you.

GUARD

My pleasure.

INT. LAB AREA

Everyone is smiling...stoned. The

LEADER speaks to them like children, not to be funny, but because

low-key orders are the most efficient. They are completely

suggestible.

LEADER

Hello.

TECH

Hello.

LEADER

We've come for the PEM114.

Where is it?

TECH 2

Right there.

LEADER

Thank you.

The INTRUDERS step up to the lab equipment. Another

tech...steps forward...He is struggling against the effects of

the drug.

TECH 3

Wait.

LEADER

Why?

TECH 3

You can't take that.

LEADER

Why not?

TECH 3

The experiment. The danger...

THE VOICE is soothing, calming, hypnotic, but the

submachine guns are always in position.

LEADER

It's alright.

TECH 3

It is?

LEADER

It will be fine. You have another.

TECH 3

Just one. The back up.

LEADER

Could I have it, please.

TECH 3

I can't get it out. It would take hours.

LEADER

That's alright. Just tear it apart.

TECH 3

Tear it apart?

LEADER

Yes.

TECH 3

Ahhh...Okay?!!!

He tears into a complex web of electronic circuitry,

ripping wires and circuit boards apart. With a POP, the circuits

go out.

The lights dip, the OVERHEAD VIDEO SCREENS go out

as the TECH comes up with the MAIN CIRCUIT BOARD.

THE SHRIEK of an ALARM SIREN. Suddenly a door swings

open. The LEADER'S gun swings on the figure in the doorway...Joe

Doakes. Joe stands in shock, looks at the gun, swings the

door shut behind him. The ALARM CUTS OUT. Everyone in the room

stares at him. he stands there rumpled and bemused, blinking

at them; Dustin Hoffman on drugs. Finally, the LEADER sees

he's no threat, relaxes his grip on the gun. The LEADER snaps out:

LEADER

What do you want?

JOE (stoned innocent)

Drink of water...?

A beat, then the LEADER relaxes...He waves Joe away...

LEADER

Go get a drink.

This has the force of suggestion...Joe turns and

walks through and out of the room...looking for a drink. The LEADER

motions to INTRUDER 2 to continue.

INTRUDER 2

The PEM114?

TECH 2

Yes, that's it.

LEADER

Give it to me.

He does. Another tech offers the Leader the spare.

He holds the tiny circuit board in his palm, removes one chip.

LEADER

This the only spare?

TECH 2

Yes.

LEADER

The other working.

TECH 2

Perfectly.

The Leader has something in his hand, a CLICK, a

WHOOSH. A butane lighter melts the circuit board to microscopic

slag. The Tech looks at his scorched hand, the destroyed

silicon bead. is voice is still slightly amused.

TECH 2

Ow?...

LEADER

It'l be alright.

TECH 2

It will.

LEADER

It doesn't hurt.

TECH 2

No?

The Leader pauses for a moment, amused by their sheep-like

acquiescence. His next suggestion is droll.

LEADER

It tickles.

The tech looks at his smoking hand in dismay...then

incredibly finds something amusing in his second degree burn.

He starts to laugh...it tickles...The other techs look confused,

then it's contagious. They start to laugh too.

INTRUDER 5, steps into the room full of laughing

idiots. He moves to the LEADER. They speak quickly and both

leave.