PLASTIC MAN

 

                             by

 

                  Larry and Andy Wachowski

 

                       March 17, 1995

 

 

 

FADE IN:

 

INT.  CAGE

 

We are a lab mouse.

 

Our world is a cage; the laboratory beyond the wire mesh

has the sprawling limitlessness of a universe with dark

endless voids and immense technological instruments

gleaming with celestial light.

 

We can hear a WOMAN'S VOICE though we can't understand

what she is saying.

 

There are several other lab mice in our cage and as the

voice gets closer there is sense of mounting apprehension.

 

We fight the other mice, pushing into the far corner.

 

Suddenly the world beyond the mesh is eclipsed by the

WOMAN.  If we were not a mouse, we might think she was

beautiful.

 

She opens the cage and a panic erupts.  There is nowhere

to hide as her hand reaches in and TAKES HOLD of us.

 

The cage seems to fall away as she LIFTS us.

 

We can barely hear her voice over the blood pounding in

our ears.

 

She TURNS us OVER and we see an enormous hypodermic needle

that she uses to inject us with a sapphire-blue fluid.

 

We are then placed in a small air-tight tank.  There is a

small Plexiglas window and several tiny holes.  After a

moment we hear the HISS of VALVES OPENING.

 

A milky fluid suddenly floods the chamber and we begin to

feel nauseous, our VISION BLURRING and DISTORTING.

 

As quickly as the fluid filled the tank it now drains.

 

The god-like hand again LIFTS us from the tank but

something is wrong because --

 

We SLIP THROUGH her fingers.

 

The GROUND RUSHES UP at us but when we hit --

 

We BOUNCE.  And BOUNCE.

 

FLIP FLOPPING, the bounces coming quicker and quicker,

LOWER and LOWER until we are RACING ACROSS the floor.

Free!

 

We see the woman in her white lab coat screaming at her

assistant as they try to corral us.

 

We DODGE, ZIPPING ACROSS the floor, looking for a way out

when we see, set in the tile floor, a drain.

 

The WORLD SWIRLS WITH us as we DASH TOWARDS it, the dark

holes widening as we DIVE at them, PLUNGING HEADLONG INTO

BLACKNESS --

 

TUMBLING DOWN the rabbit hole.

 

After a long silent moment, we hear a MAN SNEEZE.

 

 

INT.  DIME STORE

 

The DARKNESS BECOMES a curtain that is yanked open as the

same MAN steps out talking to himself.

 

                         MAN

          Hi, Susan... no.  Hi, Susie...

 

We realize he has just stepped out of a photo booth.

 

We do not see his face, MOVING WITH him, staying waist

high as he waits for the photo strip.

 

                         MAN

          Howdee, Susan... no... Hello there,

          Doctor Bright.  No no no.  Hello,

          Susan...

 

A smoldering octave lower.

 

                         MAN

          Hello, Susan...

 

The green light flashes and the strip of black and white

pictures drops into the gate.

 

We DESCEND PAST each picture of the man's face, framed

tightly as if each was a panel in a comic book.

 

Each face seems like someone who has a secret or who is

trying to look very smart.

 

Except for the last one which looks like he was about to

sneeze.

 

The man grabs the strip.

 

 

EXT.  SUSAN BRIGHT'S BROWNSTONE - MORNING

 

An upscale neighborhood:  Brownstones and coffee houses.

 

Dr. Susan Bright (WOMAN) steps out of her door.  She is

the scientist that we saw in the OPENING SCENE.

 

She is in a hurry, juggling a briefcase, an armful of

books, a cup of coffee and her keys as she heads for her

car.

 

She is bent to the car door as we GLIDE UP BEHIND her.

 

                         MAN

          Hello, Susan.

 

The voice hits her like the Hymlich maneuver.

 

                         SUSAN

          Oh my God...

 

                         MAN

          What god would that be?

 

She turns around and we see the man; Daniel "Eel" O'Brien.

Black leather activist.  We cannot tell if he is dangerous

or just trying to look dangerous.

 

                         SUSAN

          Daniel...

 

                         O'BRIEN (MAN)

          What?  No kiss?  Not even for old

          times sake?

 

She forces a smile and gives him a hug.

 

His hand slips into her lab coat pocket and then away.

 

                         SUSAN

          When did you...?

 

                         O'BRIEN

          Been out for six months now.

 

                         SUSAN

          Really?  What have you been doing?

 

                         O'BRIEN

          You know, this and that.

 

She smiles.

 

                         SUSAN

          Still chasing litterbugs?

 

His grin has an edge to it.

 

                         O'BRIEN

          Somebody has to.

 

                         SUSAN

          Same old Daniel.

 

                         O'BRIEN

          Oh no.  Not by a long shot.  I may

          look like the old Daniel O'Brien,

          but on the inside, nothing is the

          same.

 

                         SUSAN

          Is that so?

 

                         O'BRIEN

          Oh yeah.  See, Susie, a man doesn't

          do the hard time and just pick up

          where he left off.  Oh no.  The big

          house does things to a man.

 

                         SUSAN

          The big house?

 

                         O'BRIEN

          The big house.

 

                         SUSAN

          Jesus, Daniel.  It wasn't Ryker's

          Island.  It was work camp for white

          collar criminals.

 

                         O'BRIEN

          A cage by any other name would still

          smell like sweaty ugly men.

 

Sounds like the same O'Brien to her.

 

                         O'BRIEN

          You know, I've been following your

          work at Argon Labs.

 

Her smile disappears.

 

                         O'BRIEN

          I've been thinking about you a lot

          all these years, locked up in my

          cell.  I'd tear through every issue

          of the Midwest Science Journal

          looking for your latest findings,

          watching as you slowly worked your

          polymerization experiments up

          through single celled organisms to

          that holiest of holies, the fruit

          fly.  Exciting stuff.  I got to tell

          you, it really kept me going.

 

                         SUSAN

          I guess I should be flattered.

 

                         O'BRIEN

          I remember you said, nanotechnology

          was going to change the world.

 

                         SUSAN

          It already is.

 

                         O'BRIEN

          I've read they're using it to repair

          cancer cells.

 

                         SUSAN

          And for cleaning up oil spills.

 

                         O'BRIEN

          Right.  You predicted it.

 

He moves closer, eyes smoldering.

 

                         O'BRIEN

          Do you ever wonder what happened to

          us, Susie?

 

                         SUSAN

          It was a long time ago, Daniel.  We

          were young, different people,

          heading in different directions.

          That's all.

 

She backs away.

 

                         O'BRIEN

          Yeah.

 

                         SUSAN

          Well, it was good to see you,

          Daniel, but I have to be going.

 

                         O'BRIEN

          Sure.  Can I ask you one more thing?

          You haven't published anything in a

          while.  How come?

 

She shrugs, getting into her car.

 

                         SUSAN

          Nothing really worthwhile.

 

                         O'BRIEN

          That's what I thought.

 

She closes the door.

 

                         O'BRIEN

          Be seeing you.

 

She watches him turn and walk away in the rearview mirror.

She GUNS her car's ENGINE and the SOUND ROLLS INTO --

 

The ROAR of SMOKESTACKS, gaseous flames burning into boot-

black clouds.

 

 

EXT.  CALUMET CITY - DAY

 

An industrial wasteland; towering smokestacks and

warehouses of corrugated steel, factories and chemical

plants built around a small lake that shimmers with an

oily iridescent sheen while its shores churn a frothy

green bile.

 

One of the more distinct buildings in this skyline of

black steel and blue-gas flame, is Argon Laboratories.

 

It is a heavily secured compound.  There are two oblong

buildings:  one is the main lab building, the other is a

chemical warehouse.

 

Where the two buildings are connected, a third structure

rises on a steel framed skeleton like a water tower.

 

This is Argon Tower and at the top of the two story

private manor, built beside a helicopter pad, is a

twinkling glass conservatory.

 

 

INT.  ARGON'S OFFICE

 

A pair of gleaming, red-patent leather stiletto-heeled

SHOES CLICK delicately across the floor.

 

                         WOMAN

          Icarus?

 

We FOLLOW the high heels THROUGH the office until we see

the base of a statue and the name chiseled into stone;

"Icarus Argon".

 

We RISE UP the nine-heads-high, heroically proportioned

statue and see Icarus Argon as he once was; a single

halogen high-lights the massive David-like physique.

 

She crosses the sprawl of the office and everywhere are

mementos marking the milestones of Argon's life.  His face

beams on framed magazine covers; People's "Sexiest Man

Alive," and Time's "Man of the Year".  A 1989 Mr. Universe

trophy is almost lost in the thicket of awards.

 

The Woman calls to the wheelchair-bound figure slouching

behind a black, obelisk-like desk.

 

                         WOMAN

          Icarus, I thought I would find you

          here.

 

She is Mrs. Poppy Argon, a stunning woman of cosmetic

perfection and a body that might have been surgically cut

from a comic book.

 

She designs her own dresses made from Argon rubber or PVC,

usually red to match her collection of high heeled shoes

and boots.

 

                         POPPY (WOMAN)

          You never came to bed.

 

He says nothing.

 

                         POPPY

          Have you been here all night?

 

She moves around him and we get our first look at the new

Icarus Argon.

 

                         POPPY

          How are you feeling today?

 

He is an unwrapped mummy; brown flesh drapes over stringy

cords of muscle like a wet paper bag.  His eyes, hard

white marbles lined with red cracks, coldly stare up at

her.

 

                         ARGON (MAN)

          I feel like I felt yesterday.

 

She feels his forehead.

 

                         ARGON

          Like rotting meat.

 

                         POPPY

          You're not rotting meat.

 

He lifts his arm.

 

                         ARGON

          Oh no?  Smell this.

 

                         POPPY

          Icarus, please, if you want me to

          give you a bath just say so.

 

                         ARGON

          No.  I'm getting used to it.

 

She opens a manila folder, setting several sheets of paper

on a tray in front of him.

 

                         POPPY

          Fine.  Now I need your signature on

          this today.

 

He snatches the pen from her and begins signing everything

she lays in front of him.

 

                         ARGON

          What about Dr. Bright?

 

Poppy sighs.

 

                         POPPY

          She's working as fast as she can,

          Icarus.  It will be ready soon.

 

                         ARGON

          It's ready now, I know it is.

 

                         POPPY

          She says it's not.

 

                         ARGON

          She's lying.  She lost the first one

          on purpose.

 

                         POPPY

          She did not.  The mouse ran down the

          drain.

 

                         ARGON

          She let it escape because she wants

          me to die.

 

                         POPPY

          Don't be a child, Icarus.  She is

          just another scientist and like all

          scientists, she doesn't care about

          anything outside the world of the

          laboratory.

 

She gathers her papers back into the folder.

 

                         POPPY

          Right now she is still concerned

          about the unstable molecular waste

          generated by the first experiment.

          I am sure that when she solves that

          problem she will be ready for the

          second test.

 

She pats him on the head.

 

                         POPPY

          Now you be a good boy today and take

          your medicine and Poppy will make

          you forget about everything tonight.

 

She blows him a kiss, wiggling her long red-nailed

fingers.

 

 

EXT.  MAIN GATE

 

Susan Bright's car rolls up to the main gate.  Inside her

car she is searching for her security card key.

 

The GUARD notices and steps out of the booth.  She rolls

down the window.

 

                         GUARD

          Something wrong, Dr. Bright?

 

                         SUSAN

          I can't find my key card.

 

                         GUARD

          Not a problem.  Just let us know if

          it's lost and we'll make you a new

          one.

 

                         SUSAN

          Thanks.

 

He returns to the booth and the gate arm waves up.

 

 

EXT.  ADMIRAL HOTEL - DAY

 

A poorly painted sign in the window reads:  "Transients

Welcome."

 

 

INT.  ADMIRAL HOTEL

 

CLOSE ON Susan Bright's Argon ID, as an x-acto knife

carefully cuts out the photo.

 

O'Brien is hunched over, working diligently.  The hotel

room behind him is the kind of place where "cheap" would

be the politically correct adjective.

 

There are piles of nondescript scientific journals and

reference texts everywhere.  The walls around him are

covered with clipped articles and we repeatedly glimpse

the words nanotechnology, molecular engineering,

assemblers and replicators.

 

Using a colored marker he colors in one of the serious-

looking black and white photos from the strip.

 

There are only twelve colors in the set of markers so the

result looks somewhere between Warhol and Turner-vision.

 

He compares it to the color photo of Susan.  Shrugs, good

enough.

 

 

INT.  SUSAN BRIGHT'S LAB

 

Susan is not listening, her face as frozen as her picture,

her mind somewhere else.

 

                         NEBBLEMAN

          Without the nanobot it appears there

          will be no way to stabilize the

          waste entirely.  Even at subzero

          temperatures it remains active.

 

DR. NIGEL NEBBLEMAN is Susan's assistant.  More nebbish

than man.

 

                         NEBBLEMAN

          I wonder if there is a way we could

          catch that mouse.  Susan?  Susan, are

          you listening to me?

 

She blinks.

 

                         SUSAN

          What?  Oh, I'm sorry, Nigel.  I was

          just thinking...

 

                         NEBBLEMAN

          Aaabout...?

 

                         SUSAN

          This morning.  I saw someone I

          haven't seen in a long time.

 

                         NEBBLEMAN

          A man?

 

                         SUSAN

          Yeah.  I knew him when I was still

          in school.

 

                         NEBBLEMAN

          What did he want?

 

                         SUSAN

          I'm not sure.  That's the funny