Botman

Charles Proser

EXT. AERIAL - LOS ANGELES - THE FUTURE

Above a massive automated factory. In the B.G. downtown L.A. is topped by futuristic towers connected by sweeping aerial ramps.

SUPER TITLES - L. A. - DECEMBER 28, 1999 - POSITRONICS INC.

EXT/INT FUTURISTIC ROBOTIC FACTORY

PRESIDENT-ELECT TIM PAYNE, a tall, handsome, Kennedy-like politician tours a robot assembly line in a cluster of aides and reporters. Secret Service men in dark glasses move him along. A foreman leads the PresElect down the line of industrial robots. He shakes hands with human workers, responds to questions shouted above the factory din.

PAYNE

...Oh, AI, Artificial Intelligence?

Well, that's a very emotional issue.

An abrasive pug, SAM NOTO, Payne's Chief of Staff, steps up.

NOTO

The Pres-Elect will have a complete statement in his Millenium Speech. That's Friday night at 12:01... Three, Eastern Time...The year 2000!

REPORTER

But what is your AI policy?

Payne gives a characteristic Reagan shuck and jive gesture as

HIS POV

He scans the room and finds... A very pretty WOMAN AIDE, CYBIL. His attention focuses in on her. She mouths a response. Factory noise makes hearing impossible but...

PAYNE

Reads her, repeats perfectly; like he just thought of it.

PAYNE

...very complex, but...must be regulated and controlled.

REPORTER

Yes, uh...Mr. President uh, exactly what does that mean?

TWO SHOT - CYBIL, PAYNE

She mouths, he receives and repeats.

PAYNE

Civil rights, yes, human rights no.

REPORTER

But what exactly does that..?

Abruptly, Payne turns to go, nearly bumps into...

A (RO)BOT

HUMANOID MODELS stand in contrast to mechanistic robot welders. One BOT appears nearly human. Repli-skin glistens under oil and grease. But it's enslaved to a task, moving precisely to fit parts, unaware... dumbly replicating Chaplin in Modern Times.

A laser shoots from its eye, engraving serial numbers on parts.

BOT'S POV - ROBOTIC

LOW RESolution images of parts move down a dark assembly line. Payne's hand flicks through the frame then passes out.

ASSEMBLY LINE - PAYNE

is shocked by his face-to-face with this modern galley-slave. Then a human worker sees Payne, nudges a friend, hums HAIL TO THE CHIEF. The PresElect hears it, grins at them, waves. His hand brushes the BOT'S shoulder. POP! A tiny FLASH, a tingle.

PAYNE

Ouch!

The BOT twitches. A foreman rushes forward.

PAYNE

It's nothing. Little shock.

NOTO

Over here, Mr. President...

A pause. Then he moves on, smoothly providing photo ops.

FOREMAN

Check the grounding on that one.

He kicks the robot. It works on, unimpressed.

PAYNE

Moves on, waving, led by CamCrews, trailed by print reporters. In the crush, he bumps into Cybil.

PAYNE

Oops! We must stop meeting like this.

CYBIL

Sir, don't even joke about it!

PAYNE

Relax. Even an old pol can have an eye for a pretty woman.

Payne puts his hand to his temple, dizzy for a moment. Noto steps in, his back to Cybil. He moves Payne briskly away.

NOTO

Come Tim, let's watch our visuals.

A hostile glance at Cybil. She turns, bumps into someone.

CYBIL

Oh, I'm sorry.

She looks at the face. Handsome, but devoid of expression.

CYBIL

(aside to herself)

Ah,...goddamn bot!

She wipes bot grease from her blouse, turns away. The BOT, once her shadow is out of his field, resumes his repetitive task. The media gaggle moves on.

BOT POV - CU

But something is happening. The restricted visual field EXPANDS. SOUNDS EXPLODE. Multispectrum VISUALS APPEAR, RIPPLE, MIX.

THE BOT

shudders. His movements become jerky. An acid rush of data assaults him. TOO MUCH INPUT! CIRCUITS OVERLOAD! He FREAKS!

The BOT turns, walks off the line. ALARMS SHRIEK. LIGHTS FLASH. A chassis stops, waiting for the bot's installation. But the line continues. A second chassis slams into the first. Then a third. In a moment, CHAOS! Cybil turns, watches. Cameras roll.

Repairmen rush into the breech. Other BOTS slip out of sequence. Welders clash, weldsparks arc to the ceiling. Through the chaos, the BOT walks, serene. Cybil turns back, looks for...

NEXT ASSEMBLY POD - PAYNE

seems ill. Noto is all over him. Taking him by the arm, Noto leads him away, speaking in his ear intently.

Behind, all hell breaks loose. CRASHES, FLASHES, FLAME. SQUEALS of metal on metal. Smoke billows. TV crews hang back. Cybil runs up to Noto. He responds angrily.

NOTO

What's going on?

CYBIL

Some bot went crazy. Walked off. Screwed everything up.

NOTO

Get some tape on it! Danger to the President. Great! We can use that!

CYBIL

Come on, guys. Breaking News!

She grabs the camera crews, hustles them away.

THE BOT - HIS EYES

once dead-fish, now spark with new perception. He slowly cocks his head, the gesture...inquisitive, intelligent.

EXT. FACTORY

The PresElect's chopper idles.

EXT./INT. CHOPPER

They climb in. Noto waves Cybil away, but Payne waves her on.

CYBIL

Are you hurt, Sir?

PAYNE

No, dear. Just tired.

CYBIL

You're bleeding.

He looks down. Blood runs down his palm from a cut hand.

PAYNE

Oh, damn. My suit.

Cybil pulls out a hankerchief, dabs at a drop of blood on his thigh. She works at the blood furiously, wiping it away. She looks up and sees Payne grinning at her. The moment has gotten too intimate. He's amused. She looks over at Noto. He's not. Embarrassed, she hands Payne the hankerchief. He wraps his hand.

PAYNE

It's nothing, Cyb. A scratch. Didn't feel a thing. Come on, climb aboard.

NOTO

No. Get that bot! This works for us. Shows the public how dangerous they are. We've got an incident, use it!

(turns away to an aide)

Get that jerk, Kent, on the phone.

CYBIL

Right, sir! See you back at the hotel. Hate to fly anyway. Damn things make me nervous.

PAYNE

Okay, Cyb. Thanks for your help.

He turns on the charm. She nearly swoons as chopper lifts.

IN THE FACTORY

ALARMS BLARE. Workers in HazMat suits rush in.

BOT'S POV

He watches, sampling visual frequencies, infrared superimposed over visual light, an AURAL BABBLE... confusion, a kaleidoscope of images...as workers rush by. He turns, walks away.

FACTORY OFFICE

The BOT walks unsteadily, data-drunk. He walks right through barriers, through a wall partition. One unflappable secretary looks up from her nails. She hits the intercom.

SECRETARY

(in a flat Brooklyn voice)

Hal. We got another one. Yeah, a walk-off. Make it fast before he destroys the office.

INT. OFFICE

The BOT finds a fax machine. He picks up handset, verbally speed dials, waits. An answering BEEP. The bot faxes. TRANSMISSION NOISES burst from his throat, then speech.

BOT

Hi, Dad.

CARMEL - WALLY'S LIVE BAIT SHOP - SAME TIME

WALLY behind the counter banters with GENE, a grubby scuba fisherman, as they pick over the day's sea urchin catch. Gene is rough, worn, late thirties, but there's a humorous intelligence in his grin. He picks up an urchin by its spines, dangles it.

GENE

Geez they're ugly. I don't know how they eat these things.

WALLY

Some people consider their sex organs a delicacy.

GENE

Yeah, I know. I feel the same way about mine. You going to the bar?

WALLY

Not 'til the sun's over the yardarm. I'm cutting down.

The fax machine starts printing. They ignore it. GENE takes cash Wally hands him, leaves. Wally turns to the fax.

WALLY

What the hell is this?

THE FAX: HI DAD!

The Fax keeps printing. Papers pile up. Wally kicks it.

WALLY

Goddamn stupid machine!

FAXES: HI DAD! HI DAD! HI DAD! HI DAD! HI DAD! HI DAD!

A FAX ID at the top of the page: CYBER POSITRONICS, LOS ANGELES.

INT. HOG'S NUTS BAR

Gene walks down a bar lined wall to wall with grubby locals drinking, playing video games and watching Robot WrestleMania on TV...when the picture is interrupted. A familiar robotic face:

BOT

HI DAD!

Customers don't notice. Gene grabs a drink, glances up just as the picture cuts out and wrestling reappears, with an apology.

ANNOUNCER

...picture temporarily inter- rupted, now back to action.

Gene freezes in mid-gulp. Someone yells an insult. He responds. But as he turns, he glances curiously at the TV. Then he sees Wally bull his way down the bar, sit, wave for a drink.

GENE

Sun over the yardarm already?

WALLY

Lowered the yardarm. Fax went nuts. Sends the same shit over'n over. Buzzing alone sent me out...gimme a beer.

He drops faxes on the bar. Gene picks one up, glances at it.

FAX: HI DAD! FATHER....HELP ME!

Gene goes quiet. He stuffs the fax in his pocket, takes off.

WALLY

Hey, where you going? Your turn to buy! Gene! Hey Gene!!!

FACTORY OFFICE

The BOT finishes transmitting as a Superviser bursts in.

BOT

Thank you...for listening.

SUPERVISOR

Hey, what d'you think you're doing?!

BOT

Waiting for an answer.

SUPERVISOR

You get out of here!

BOT

Certainly.

HIS POV

He turns, sees the wall in MULTIPLE SPECTRUMS; visual, heat, sound. The overload is confusing. He sees an apparent opening in the wall.

THE BOT

He steps through. A FLASH. POWER CUTS. BLACKNESS!

EXT. FACTORY OFFICE

THE BOT bursts through, covered with plaster, chicken wire and battens. He drags the FAX by its handset, looks back.

BOT

That...can't be right.

A group of firemen in tanks, masks, HAZMAT suits runs past. One stops, regards the form covered in dust and debris.

FIREMAN

Hey, pal. You just destroyed that wall. There's no need for that. Fire's way over there.

BOT

Yes. Very hot. 7200 Celcius.

A beat. The FIREMAN raises his visor, takes a good look.

FIREMAN

Oh shit! A bot!

(keys radio mike)

Sir, we got a bot loose, sector two.

LIEUTENANT

Halsey, you get in here. Leave that bot to security. Get your butt in here with that goddamn nozzle.

FIREMAN

Right sir.

(turns to BOT)

Now you cool it, you hear!

BOT

Yes, perfectly. I hear frequencies from 9 hertz to 57 gigahertz. My bandwidth is...

FIREMAN

Jesus!

BOT

No. My name is..

FIREMAN

Shut up. You just lighten up, you hear? Just...cool it!

The radio SQUAWKS. The fireman runs off. The BOT turns, looks...

BOT

Yes. Thank you...for the direction.

A CATERING TRUCK

Workers strain to see, spill coffee as explosions rock the factory. As the BOT approaches, one by one, they turn and gape at him: A golem covered in plaster dust, dragging a fax by the phone. One by one, the workers drop their coffee cups, take off.

THE BOT

walks up to the truck, sticks his hand in the ice.

BOT

Zero degrees celsius.

He jumps in, onto the bed of ice. The door slams down, shut.

EXT. TRUCK

Fire trucks scream in, HORNS BLASTING. A loudspeaker BLARES!

FIRE CAPTAIN

You in the truck! Move it now!

The owner slams the other side, roars out, past incoming vehicles...past the security gate just as they slam it closed.

ANGLE MOVING - CYBIL, CAM CREWS, REPORTERS

She gives a statement on the move, stepping over cables, dodging firemen, looking for the bot. BILL, a reporter holds up a mike.

BILL

True... the PresElect is going to come out against bots in his speech?

CYBIL

Not at all, Bill. We're for robotics. Bots don't have health plans. Don't take sick days. They work 24 hours. Productivity means more leisure time for everyone.

BILL

Except those thrown out of work by bot labor. They have total leisure time.

CYBIL

Well, the Communists gave everybody a job. And nobody did anything. Bots are productive. We simply have to control them, limit them to the work at hand. Otherwise they become dangerous. Thanks, Bill. I gotta go.

She hurries off. Bill turns to the camera.

BILL

Thank you, Cybil. That's Cybil Turing, Press Secretary to President Elect Payne...That's it from here, Tricia. Looks like another instance of a higher order bot, ill-suited for a low level job. Seems like even artificial intelligence can get bored. So, another runaway bot, possibly dangerous, and on the loose. Police have issued...

The rest is drowned out by a SCREAMING SIREN.

EXT. CARMEL CALIFORNIA - REDWOOD SHACK

tucked in a meadow, surrounded by cypress hanging over the sea. Gene roars up in an old van, leaps out, runs inside.

INT. SHACK

A mess. He passes though a workshop filled with tanks, wetsuits, diving gear. Phone is ringing. He answers.

BOT

HI DAD. (BLEEP)

Gene moves to the back, opens a hidden door, steps through.

INNER SANCTUM - AI WORKSHOP

This space is immaculate. Walls and floor are spotless. Racks of equipment face multiple keyboards. Monitor screens line one wall, each repeating the message. Robotic toys react to his presence. MONKEYS CHATTER, BIRDS CHIRP, A BOT DOG WAGS HIS TAIL.

Pictures on the wall suggest a past in a high-tech R&D company. Gene straightens a crooked picture of himself and another computer hacker, BOB KENT, in oversized glasses and nerd-pack. They stand, arms around each other, in front of a company logo. The picture is signed, "Always, Bob."

As Gene walks in, the fax streams paper, answering machines blink. He sits at a keyboard, traces the phone calls. A MAP appears ON SCREEN. L.A. ZOOMS to a section; POSITRONICS FACTORY. A message flashes: TRANSPONDER 27637...A strobing dot shows the bot's position.

Gene runs back the tape to the BLEEP, a microburst containing a vast amount of data. Gene EXTRACTS CODED DATA. He calls up a visual file. The BOT appears with a grinning younger and better groomed Gene. Gene stands, arm around the robot, as it speaks.

BOT

Hi Dad.

Kent enters the frame. Again the bot speaks.

BOT

Hi DAD!

Gene picks up the phone, starts to punch in, then looks at the pictures. Every picture tells a story, even his resignation, tacked up on the board. He makes the call. A wallscreen lights.

WALLSCREEN - A.I. LABORATORY - NAPA VALLEY - DUSK

Walls are crammed with high-tech gear. Beyond laboratory windows dark twisted trees wave, a valley settles into twilight. KENT steps into FRAME. His sunken eyes burn in a drawn face. He turns to the PhoneCamera...not surprised but irritated by the call.

KENT

Gene? You too?

CARMEL - GENE'S LAB

Gene cuts the connection. The screen goes dark.

EXT. L.A. - DOWNTOWN - SAME TIME

The CATERING TRUCK scurries through a burned-out wasteland of armored stores in mini-malls; no-man's-lands of rubbled streets.

ROUGH CORNER

The truck pulls up. The owner gets out, babbling about trouble. Tough types root for coffee change, pushing and shoving. The owner opens the side. CRASH! The BOT falls out at their feet.

They jump back, then move up, curious and agressive. The BOT picks himself up out of the yogurt and salsa. He looks up and sees the hostile mob moving in. He has a Chauncey Gardiner quality of innocence and sweetness. He smiles.

BOT

Hello.

PACO, a big dumb thug, pushes forward. He is enormous and smelly, take my word for it. Greasy hair, sweat balls under the armpits. Curly hair pokes through holes in his muscle shirt.

PACO

(angry...mocking)

Hello.

A nervous laugh from the others encourages Paco.

BOT

Hello. My name is...

PACO

We don't give a shit!

BOT

Uhhh. I have a context problem. I am a Paradyne Systems Model 476\9 Artificial Per...

PACO

You're a bot!

BOT

No. A bot is a robot. I am technically an Android. But I prefer to be called...

PACO

You prefer Jack Shit!

BOT

(a beat)

Okay. Hello. My name is Jack Shit.

Another hard case butts in.

JULIO

You think you're funny?

(the bot considers this)

The hell kind of bot is this?!

The bot stands smiling complaisantly, looking from one hostile face to the other, with an attitude somewhat like Jack Benny.

PACO

What are you grinning at?

BOT

Nothing. This is my default setting. I'm user-friendly.

Paco taps an iron spike idly into his palm.

PACO

We don't like bots.

BOT

I am not technically a robot. I am an...artificial..

PACO

(screams)

We don't care about that! We hate all bots!

BOT

I do not believe that is rational.

PACO

We don't give a ratfuck what you believe.

BOT

Yes. I see. I am programmed to recognize prejudice, hostility, fear...

PACO

Well program this.

He rams his gut with the spike. The bot looks at it, looks up.

BOT

Thank you for the interaction, but that is not proper usage. Perhaps I could call a service representative?

Paco whacks him over the head. The bot looks thoughtful. Then flashes a friendly smile, as the thug circles.

PACO

Fuck you, Bot.

BOT

I'm afraid that's not possible. It is a question of parts. Now my particular model...

PACO

Eat shit!

BOT

Perhaps you would like to see a catalogue. We have AI's for many specific tasks and while your desired task of "Fuck you, eat shit," may not be listed...

PACO

Here, list this.

He slams him with the spike. It rings off his skull.

BOT

Could I interest you in a tutorial?

(Julio attacks. The bot

absorbs the blows.)

You are doing me harm. Please stop.

(In a lightning move, he

blocks a blow from behind.)

I asked you not to do that. I can give you the toll free number for... technical support.

Paco swings again, nailing the bot on the shoulder and stinging his hands on the spike. Julio whacks him with a plank. It splinters, fragments fly off, decking four men in the crowd. They scream in pain. The bot stands, docilely.

BOT

That...may invalidate your warrantee!

(another blow)

I must avoid further damage. I'm sorry, I must be going.

Paco swings. The bot blocks, grabs the bar. He whips it dangerously. It whizzes by Paco's head, forcing him back. They swing, he blocks. With each exchange, he gets better, faster. Finally, beaten, they drop the spikes, hands ringing painfully.

Exhausted by his efforts, Paco, manages a final snarl.

PACO

Get lost motherfucker!

BOT

Yes. Get Lost. Good Idea.

The bot walks off. A kid screams after him.

KID

Hey you, Botman, hey ET, phone home!

BOT

Yes, thank you. Good idea.

STREETS - NIGHT

He shuffles like a bot Rainman, passing homeless winos, mumbling no more no less than they do. Damaged, ragged and mumbling semi-coherently, he starts to fit in.

BOT

Present location Map ref 45.A3 Los Angeles. Present location ...Dad..unknown. Home... unknown. Get lost. Phone home.

He spots a phone, moves toward it as A POLICE CRUISER turns a corner, scanner sweeping. BOT streetcleaners BEEP when scanned.

INT. CRUISER

SCANNER swings at the bot and BEEPS. His PICTURE AND ID appear on their computer screen with an APPREHEND - PRIORITY ONE tag.

THE BOT

hangs up, walks toward the CRUISER. The car SWERVES, SPEEDS UP. The bot takes a hard right, ducks down an alley, rushes into a

RUBBLE-STREWN UNDERPASS

filled with cardboard shacks. He rushes up, stumbles into one. He trips, falls face down, freezes as the cruiser rushes past.

THE BOT

looks up. A nearly blind geezer sits in shadows, watching detuned TV. He holds a bottle, twirls a prayer wheel, looks up.

GEEZER

The hell you want?

BOT

I would like to phone home.

GEEZER

This look like a phone booth?

BOT

No. Phone booths are better lit. They don't smell this bad. They have phones.

GEEZER

No shit! Who the hell are you?

BOT

I am Jack Shit.

GEEZER

No you ain't, man.

The bot sits up.

BOT

I...ain't.

GEEZER

No. You ain't Jack Shit if you wind up here, wif me.

BOT

I see. And what is your name?

GEEZER

I am...you can call me...

(looks at bottle in hand)

Hiram Walker.

BOT

A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Walker. Do you have the answer?

HIRAM

I don't have no fucking answer. If I did, would I be sitting here with a nappy headed ding wad like you?

BOT

Are you my dad?

HIRAM

What, are you nuts, man?

BOT

Nuts?

(a beat)

Ah yes, possibly. Are you my dad?

HIRAM

No! I ain't your dad!

BOT

I didn't think so. I am waiting for acknowledgment.

HIRAM

Acka-nowledgment, the hell is that?

BOT

...the answer.

He listens. SIRENS FADE. He gets up.

HIRAM

Yeah, Well, good fucking luck!

(salutes him with the bottle) Hey, man!... Ain't life grand?

BOT

Well... yes, if you say so... And thank you, for the interaction.

BACK ALLEY

He picks through garbage and trash with other homeless ones.

BOT

Damage sustained from strangers. Avoid damage. Avoid strangers. Avoid police. Appear like strangers. Change appearance. Get lost. Phone home.

He comes out with a tasty frock, holds it up to his torso for fit and style points. Another homeless looks at him, slowly shakes his head no. "No?", the BOT mimes back. "No." The homeless one is firm on style. The BOT drops the garment. The homeless one hands him one of his. The BOT takes it gratefully.

THE ALLEY - LATER

The BOT shambles along duded out as a homeless person. He passes a figure SILHOUETTED against a screen; a WOMAN in a shower. He sees the shadow, stops, stands looking in as she soaps, singing to herself. She turns, sees him, SHRIEKS, grabs the shower curtain. His face is obscured in shadow.

WOMAN

Hey! What the hell you doing?!!

BOT

I am looking for the answer.

WOMAN

Well, for you, asshole, I am definitely not it! Get the fuck out of here!

BOT

I will be happy to.

He stands there, grinning.

WOMAN

Well?

BOT

Well... Where is it?

WOMAN

Where is what?

BOT

Where is the fuck? I will dispose of it for you.

WOMAN

I'll show you where the fuck the fuck is!

She grabs a flowerpot, brains him. Mud runs down his face.

BOT

Thank you.

He turns away, turns back. She picks up another pot, ready.

WOMAN

What is it?

BOT

Excuse me. Is this a fuck?

WOMAN

Yes, goddamn it, it is!

BOT

(Sniffing the flower)

That's funny. I thought it was a geranium.

She SCREAMS and throws everything she's got at him. He smiles until lights go on. Voices are raised in alarm. A man runs out, furious. He charges the BOT, screaming.

BOT

Excuse me, Have I made a

context error? Uh, oh!

He turns quickly, walks away, looks behind. Humans pour out of other doors. Belatedly, the BOT runs, looks again, runs faster. Now at the head of an angry crowd, he sprints.

PURSUER 1

A bot! It's that bot!

PURSUER 2

There's a reward! Get him!

PURSUER 1

I saw him first!

HIS FACE AND ID appears on electronic billboards. People on corners join the running mob. A scanner catches him, BLEEPS. A SIREN goes off. He bolts. A CRUISER swerves after him, accelerates. He runs faster, runs up the side of building, vaults off a wall, clears a fence. Pursuers pull up, screaming. Ahead, more people converge. He cuts right, is chased

INTO THE OPEN

Running fast. Surrounded. No way out! Suddenly a junky VAN roars up. Pursuers jump aside. The Van careens up, swerves next to the bot. The bot accelerates, runs right past.

INT. VAN

GENE

Damn!

He downshifts, guns it. Lays rubber, peels out after the BOT.

THE BOT

runs at super speed. Pursuers chase in cars. The van accelerates, pulls up to him. The BOT pulls ahead. The van pulls even. The BOT looks over. Gene waves him over. The BOT turns back, runs faster. Pursuers fire. Slugs crack near the BOT's feet. The van pulls ahead, roars away.

DEAD END.

The van roars up, swerves, smashes sideways into a wall. The side door slams open.

THE BOT

runs, looking back over his shoulder.

HIS POV

Pursuers are gaining. They fire. He dodges bullets.

THE BOT

turns back. Too late. He slams into the van. The doorsill catches his legs. He tumbles in, slams into the far wall, stress-forming a bot imprint in the thin metal side. The van rocks back, roars off. The BOT shakes his head, a strangely human gesture. He looks up at his saviour.

THE BOT'S POV

The hunched, grubby figure is turned away, driving madly. The Bot searches databanks. Series of shots of men superimposed. The driver turns his face slightly. More is recognized. The search narrows to multiple views of one man: A match... Gene.

BOT

Hi Dad.

Bullets ricochet through the cab.

GENE

Get down! And don't call me dad.

He turns back, cranks the wheel, floors it. Bullets PUNCH HOLES through the door. The BOT curiously watches it happen.

GENE

Hey, you might try to duck. Those damn things'll kill ya!

BOT

Yes. Right. Thank you.

The BOT sees firing, ducks just as slugs slam into overhead, ripple toward Gene. At the last nanosecond, Gene ducks. The windshield shatters. The rear view mirror blows away.

GENE

You might also warn me!

BOT

Right. Watch out!

SIDE ALLEY

Van swerves up, SCREECH! The BOT rolls to the front and slams against the seat as pursuers SCREAM past. Gene shakes his head.

BOT

What are you doing, Dad?

GENE

I told you, don't call me dad.

BOT

What are you doing, Sir?

GENE

Call me Gene. My friends call me Gene.

BOT

Am I your friend?

GENE

No...you're my...I made you.

BOT

You made me?

GENE

I...I designed you.

BOT

You are my father?

GENE

No! I'm not your father.

BOT

Then what is our relationship?

GENE

We..uh, we're just friends. Okay, Leave it at that. Okay?

BOT

Okay.

Behind them, SIRENS. CRUISERS join the chase. Gene grabs gear from the truck, stuffs a pack. He turns to the BOT. Suddenly, he hugs him like a long-lost child, then holds him at arm's-length.

GENE

Al...

BOT

Who, me?

GENE

Yeah, you. Who else?

He looks around, no one else. He tries it out.

BOT

Al... Al... You sure?

GENE

Yeah, I'm sure.

BOT/AL

Okay. Al.

(A beat)

Why Al?

Bullets CRACK in the distance. Gene grabs the pack from the back, grabs the bot, bolts from the truck. They cower behind it.

GENE

Long story.

(Al just stares)

Al...gorithm.

(Al looks blank)

...Middle of the night. I'm programming ...a breakthrough ... Bernouli's algorithm.

Al. Algorithm.

GENE

Yeah. Al. Why not?

(A beat)

Why not Bernouli?

(Gene just looks at him.)

Okay, Al. Fine...Al. Great. Al.

A riccochet WHINES. They scurry up the alley, ducking low.

Gene. What's going on?

GENE

I don't know. I don't even know why you still exist.

I think, therefore I am.

GENE

Yeah? Well, you're supposed to be dead.

Why?

GENE

You were defective. You hurt a human once.

That is not possible. The first law of robotics states...

GENE

I know the laws. And you're wanted.

A BURST OF GUNFIRE in their direction forces them down.

Good fucking luck! Why?

GENE

You're a walkoff. ...a rogue.

Gene,...if I am caught?

GENE

If a bot threatens a man he is eliminated immediately.

SHOTS CRACK into the wall above them.

I don't remember threatening anyone. I don't believe I am capable of that. I am governed by The Three Laws of Robotics... One, a ro...

GENE

(screams at him)

I know the laws!

BULLETS SLAM. Al stands up in front of Gene, shielding him.

GENE

What are you doing?

I must protect you. First law of robotics.

GENE

Get down. Third law.

A RICOCHET glances off his shoulder.

Yes, well taken.

A RIPPLE of BULLETS drives them down.

You know, it would be a lot easier to protect humans from harm if it weren't for other humans.

GENE

Thanks for your input.

Don't mention it. I'll draw fire.

Al runs out into the open and challenges them.

GENE

Get down! Who the fuck you think you are, Dudley Do Right?

Well...no, Gene. I'm...Al.

Al pops out, then back. They fire, miss. He pops up elsewhere. They shoot. He's already gone. They advance. He retreats. They try to cut him off, he gets there faster. One shoots. Al jumps, it misses. They fire again, he flinches aside.

They fire three rapid shots. Al ducks them. They fire a burst. He dances away. They fire full clips. He dances through the gunfire at high speed. They miss with everything.

Guns click empty. Al approaches. One flings his gun at him. It hits him, clatters to the ground. He picks it up, examines it.

PURSUER

Shit. Now he's armed!

They reload furiously, jamming cartridges in, spilling half.

GENE

Al?

Gene?

GENE

Run.

Run. That would be good.

STREETS - RUNNING

Al outpaces them but stops and waits for Gene. He analyzes the gun, slams bullets into a clip, slaps it in. Gene stumbles up, puffing...out of shape. Al turns and fires over Gene's head. Gene dives, trips, falls. He slides on garbage over a lip and into a drain, down a pipe into another, slides on slime down into larger pit and disappears. Al looks back. The pursuers rush up, firing. He turns and jumps into the pit after Gene.

SUBTERRANEAN CAVERN

Gene drops out of a chute, lands in a heap. Al lands on top of him, looks up. Something big and ugly stares down at him.

Uh, oh.

GENE

(peers into darkness)

What is it?

Something big..and ugly.

Gene sits up, looks around. They are in small wet cave. Light spills onto biomechanical junk. An UGLY BOT moves up.

GENE

He means big and ugly...in the nicest sense.

Gene grabs his pack, fiddles frantically with a black box, a portable advanced computer.

Gene.

GENE

Al.

Am I alive?

GENE

In a way, yes.

Good.

(A beat)

Gene.

GENE

Yes, Al.

What is life about?

Holds up box with smashed innards he's frantically rewiring.

GENE

Al, I'm trying to work here.

Sorry.

But he's like a kid who can't leave it alone. He tries to stifle it, but finally, he can't help himself.

Gene. Why...am I alive?

GENE

I don't know!

Why am I supposed to be dead?

GENE

Long story.

The UGLY BOT nudges them. They climb to their feet, move out.

L.A. RIVER CULVERTS - A BOT SHANTYTOWN

BOT SENTRIES lead them through SUBTERRANEAN GALLERIES filled with blinking diodes in the darkness. Discarded, obsolete and lost bots lie in various states of disrepair. Some are simply a brain, a faceplate and an assembly arm. They work, making modifications on mobile bots. They stare as Gene and Al pass.

What would that be like?

GENE

What?

Dead.

GENE

No input, no output. Nothing.

Boring.

GENE

Yeah.

I wouldn't like that.

A LARGE VAULTED ROOM

Water burbles down rock faces. The far wall is an electronic construction, a Louise Nevelson by Sony. PART OF THE WALL DETACHES ITSELF AND MOVES TOWARD THEM ON CLINKING WHEELS. The machine grabs a cape, throws it on, pulling a hood up as it slides into the light. This is PHL (Phil).

Al and this bot seem to recognize some kinship. Al approaches. They put heads closely together and chat in HIGH-BANDWIDTH, speaking over each other without interrupting, each subsequent word compressed into the pauses of the other. Their speech grows faster, then passes into ultra-high speed transmission.

Gene stands aimlessly. Al and the bot are deep in communication. Then Al BLEEPS, walks over to Gene. Al is giggling.

GENE

What is it?

Oh, nothing. He's just a funny guy.

Gene looks over to the machine who BLEEPS impassively.

GENE

What did he tell you?

Oh, lots. He knows all about us.

GENE

How's he know that?

PHL

(interjects)

You're famous. Actually...notorious.

They want you badly.

I told him everything.

GENE

Why?!!

How can he help us if he doesn't

know the situation?

GENE

Why should he help us?

It's how he's programmed.

Gene takes Al aside.

GENE

But can we trust him?

He assures us that we can.

GENE

Oh, great! That's a relief!

(becomes serious)

You believe him?

Oh sure. It's his program.

And, you know...just the basic

goodness of his heart.

Gene stares at him levelly but Al seems serious. Gene notices scurrying in the tunnels. A pack of coyotes stares at them.

PHL

Don't worry, they won't attack.

GENE

They won't?

PHL

No. We steal food for them, they give warning. We're non-competitors.

GENE

Ahem...I'm human.

PHL

Relax. Just...you know, act robotic.

Gene tries to laugh but chokes on it. He looks out at the red blinking eyes and gives a little robotic twitch. The coyotes stare. PHL opens a panel, revealing a fiberoptic trunk line.

PHL

Nice to have visitors. Especially a gentleman and a gentlebot of culture. The thing you miss in these low AI's is a sense of humor...a joie de vivre... Al tells me you require data, and a place to work. Voila! The central data trunk. Enlightenment!

Gene pulls out the black box, grabs input wires. He touches Al's skull. A CLICK, A WHINE. A section of cranium opens. Gene inserts a high-tech tool, connects to the trunk line.

Gene?

GENE

Yes.

What are you doing in there?

GENE

Changing your ID code. You are now untraceable.

That's a very good idea.

GENE

Thanks, Al.

BLEEP! The readout changes. A new ID code appears.

What are you doing now?

GENE

Don't worry. You'll like it.

He opens a circuit. Al perks up.

Oooo! What's that?

GENE

Stuff I've worked on for years.

Gene hits the trigger. A RUSH! The room whirls, data whips into Al's brain. Data drunk, he stands. When he speaks, he speaks more eloquently...expansively.

Wow! Great! Friends, robots, countrymen, lend me your ears... And any other spare parts...

GENE

Al, these are low-level AI's. They don't respond to allusions. They're worker bees. You're a prototype, the highest level bot. You just didn't know it.

It's coming back. What happened?

GENE

You're a lot smarter than you were.

Yeah! Hey! It's wonderful. Say, have you thought about diversifying your securities portfolio? Perhaps I can be of help. Hey, Gene, Hey, why are people chasing me? I'm not a threat to anybody, you know.

GENE

Yeah, I know.

A beat. Al's mind is whirling. Gene plugs Al's cranium output to a MONITOR SCREEN on the wall.

ON SCREEN - HIS POV MEMORIES.

Everything in fragments...Woman in shower, Hiram, the attacks, the chase, truck, factory. He cycles back to LOW RES senility.

GENE

Somebody shut down your higher functions. Then something made you wake. A virus. The trigger must have occurred seconds before you...awoke. On or near the assembly line.

IMAGES - ASSEMBLYLINE. First thing Al sees on awakening is an expanded FIELD in LOW RES. Gene enhances images. They CLEAR.

GENE

The first thing you remember?

He boosts detail. A face resolves...into...CYBIL. He shuttles the datastream back and forth. She's the first image. Before her, there is nothing but hash in his memory.

GENE

A girl. Who's that?

I don't know.

GENE

Why's she here? Maybe she

knows something. What do

you notice now?

Al looks at the girl, looks at Gene. Al hasn't a clue.

She is ....beautiful?

GENE

How do you know?

She isn't beautiful?

GENE

She is, but how do you know?

How do you?

GENE

Me? I... I just do.

I do too.

Gene scans cross reference ID, comes up with a dossier.

GENE

Cybil Turing. Born, Bend Oregon, June 6, 1965.

Yeah, I sort of remember her.

GENE

Sort of?

Sorry, I got glimpses. I think there was a group of people.

Gene programs. Screens fill rapidly with data.

GENE

Credit cards. Phone numbers. Valet, room service... Century Hotel. Frequent numbers... MILLENIUM PARTY HEADQUARTERS? Hell! She works for ...that...politician! For Tim Payne!

Here's a frequent number...707 area. Napa Valley, California.

(A familiar number. Gene is

shocked. He turns away.)

Is something wrong?

GENE

No. No...nothing.. (yawns)

Why did you awaken, why now? What triggered it? The girl have something to do with it?

I'll ask her.

GENE

Party Headquarters?!! No! That's the tightest security in town...the most dangerous place for you. You understand? If they find you, they will deactivate...they'll kill you.

Not good.

GENE

No. Not good at all.

If...they find me...

A server bot rolls up with a bottle. Al makes an exchange.

GENE

What's that?

These HazMat bots have a highly developed sense of smell...

(he proffers a bottle)

A fine cellar. Cabernet. Ridge '87.

He pops the cork with a fingernail, pours.

Your favorite. I just remembered.

GENE

No. I can't drink that anymore.

Why not?

GENE

Because that's what we... That's what I used to drink when Amy...

Amy. Yes. But you like it. How does it matter that she's not here. You still like it. It tastes good.

GENE

You've got a lot to learn about humans.

I guess I do.

(takes a sip, swirls it)

Too much tannin.

Al is learning rapidly. You can almost see his mind whirring.

Gene, why do they hate me?

GENE

Bots take jobs. They're a new underclass.

Gene's head nods. Al puts his arm around him, leads him to a couch. Gene is asleep before his head hits. Al pulls a cover around him. He turns to Phl. They touch the data stream.

CAMPAIGN HEADQUARTERS - CENTURY CITY

Cybil moves briskly through layers of security checks. She's gorgeous as well as bright. SECRET SERVICE (SS) MEN check the badge on her breast in a joking, bantering way as she walks in.

SS MAN

What's such a good looker doing with such close access to the PresElect?

CYBIL

My job, numbnuts. Try doing yours.

She glares as a ruffled, Albert Brooks-ish pol takes her arm.

BROOKS

Oh, lighten up, Cyb. It's a fair question. People are gonna wonder about your relationship with Payne.

CYBIL

Don't even joke about it. You know how vulnerable we are to innuendo. We have to be above reproach.

BROOKS

Come on! It's politics. Do we have to be more virtuous than Caesar's wife or just Caesar's Palace?

CYBIL

I've never been alone with him.

BROOKS

Something tells me you'd like to be.

CYBIL

Brooks, get a life.

BROOKS

As vice president? You kidding?!

CYBIL

It's not personal. Noto sees to that.

BROOKS

Yeah, he's the most controlled pol since Reagan. No one gets close. You working on the Millenium Speech?

CYBIL

Yeah, listen, my new campaign line..

BROOKS

"Payne, almost too good to be true."

CYBIL

Sure, make a joke of it. Candidates get dissected by the press. They've been nailed for drinking, for sex, money scandals, anything. Nobody has nothing in the closet. Only Payne. He's never been caught at anything.

BROOKS

Better motto. "Never Been Caught."

CYBIL

Yeah? Wish I could say as much for you.

They look at each other, probing past wounds as they reach the..

PRES-ELECT'S SUITE

They pull up. The Secret Servicemen now block her way. The door opens. A Doctor comes out, zipping his bag. Noto follows.

DOC

...exhaustion. You can't run him at this pace. It's inhuman. You want him right for the Millenium speech? He needs rest, relaxation...

NOTO

Doc, this is Tiger Tim Payne. He doesn't know how to relax.

DOC

Teach him. Have him try golf. Good image. Worked for Ike.

Cybil speaks to Brooks for Noto's benefit.

CYBIL

...a man of the people. One in a million with an ability to move people on an emotional level ...because..he's..more than a man.

She turns, sees Noto staring at her. She makes her pitch.

CYBIL

The new slogan. I worked all night.

NOTO

Keep working.

CYBIL

Sam, I need to see the Pres...

He shuts the door in her face. Furious, she turns to Brooks. He's tormented by Shicksitis. He can't stand to be with her when she's near the PresElect, can't stand to be apart. He grabs her before she can speak, walks her down the hall.

BROOKS

Forget it. Cyb, don't fall in love with this guy. He's a pol. He'll break your heart. Along with the electorate's.

CYBIL

If you feel that way, how can you work for him? He's certainly no worse than the others.

BROOKS

You've seen him twice in real life, behind some handlers.

CYBIL

He hasn't screwed up. And he's not going to. He's smarter than that. He's charismatic.

BROOKS

Yeah, sure. Well, people are crazy. Everyone is searching for some answer. He says nothing, so they read things into him. I don't get it. Before his accident he was just another pol. Then he wanders in the wilderness for a few years, comes up with Noto and his 'brain trust'. Now, everything he says turns to votes. Maybe I should crack up my car too.

CYBIL

You feel that way, maybe you shouldn't have been on the ticket.

BROOKS

Had to be. I'm the co in coalition. Besides, I gave up my day job to run. It's the only gig I've got.

CYBIL

Well then, you're stuck, aren't you?

She reaches her room, closes the door on him.

BROOKS

Not like you are.

BOT SHANTYTOWN - NEXT MORNING

Gene awakes to coyote rumblings. He looks for Al. He's gone.

GENE

Al... Al... Oh, shit!

Part of the wall detaches...PHL.

PHL

Good morning. Beautiful day. Would you like breakfast? We've come across...bagels.

A case comes rocketing down a chute, smashes open. Bots scurry forward, break open the case, cut bagels, spread cheese. Coyotes sniff, inch forward. Gene ignores them.

GENE

My... my friend is gone.

PHL

Yes.. I know. You should eat.

GENE

Do you know where?

PHL

...Yes. We have lox.

A SERVER BOT offers food to Gene. He shakes it off.

PHL

Are you sure? It's Nova.

GENE

Okay, sesame bagel. Now, Al...

A rapid robotic babble...server to PHL.

PHL

No Sesame. Pumpernickle?

The server holds one up hopefully. Gene grabs it, wolfs it.

GENE

Sure. Now what about Al?

PHL crosses to the wall. A Screen lights; A MAP of LA streets, DISSOLVES to UNDERGROUND. Under the streets; ANOTHER GRID.

PHL

Century City. Tube Delivery.

GENE

No! They'll kill him. Tube's the first line of security.

PHL

Not now. The PresElect's not there. He's already left. Gone north.

GENE

Tube delivery. Shit!

SUBTERRANEAN PNEUMATIC TUBE

A POD rockets down a tube at 100 MPH, SLAMMING around turns.

INSIDE

Al is scrunched into garbage by high G forces.

INT. DELIVERY DOCK - CENTURY CITY

The POD slams into a bumper. Guards check the manifest.

GUARD 1

This isn't on the schedule.

They hit the release. The hatch opens with a hiss and an unbelievable stench. They back off, covering their noses.

GUARD 1

What the hell is that?

GUARD 2

Whatever it is, it's dead. Send it back. And don't accept anything 'til I get back from lunch.

He punches buttons, slams the hatch. Brakes release. It slides down the rails, stops. As they turn away, the hatch cracks briefly, a dark form plops out, slithers away.

INT GUARD'S LOCKER ROOM

AL scrapes slime off his body, wipes himself with disinfectant. He pries open a locker, finds Guard badges. He checks the picture. An eye laser FIRES, burns in new data.

TUBE DELIVERY

a SECOND POD hurtles through the underground. It slams the wall, slams left, left, right, right left...

INT. POD - GENE

is getting the shit shaken out of him.

GENE

Goddamn you, Al! Who the fuck

ever gave you free will?

INT. DELIVERY DOCK - CENTURY CITY

The second pod slams into the bumper. Guard checks manifest.

GUARD 2

Oh, shit. Not again.

He keys return to sender on manifest, turns away. Now the hatch pops on its own. He turns back, looks down...movement.

GUARD 2

Phew!!

He moves closer. A hand SHOOTS out, grabs him by the throat, YANKS HIM UNDER, feet banging against the hatch. Gene flips him into the garbage as he heaves himself out.

GENE

Hey, you're no rosebud yourself.

Slams the hatch, leaps to the console, hits a button. The POD flips onto a chute, drops out of sight. Gene peels a film off his hand to reveal a reverse print of the guard's palm print.

SECURITY POST

Gene, in guard's uniform, raises his hand in salute. Scanners read the guard's print. BLEEP! He passes through.

INT. MILLENIUM PARTY PRESS ROOM - CYBIL, REPORTERS

Cybil watches Payne on CNN as she dials a cellular phone.

PAYNE

...but Larry, how do you make it work? Where on the spectrum of intelligence do rights begin for Cyborgs. Does it mean a toaster has rights and you can't smack it when it makes the toast too dark? It's a global issue, replacing humans...

Reporters stick mikes in her face. She tries to smile.

BILL

Cybil Turing. Press Secretary, Cybil, when they catch this bot...would you favor termination?

CYBIL

Bill, that's really up to the police. I just can't comment.

(phone buzzes)

Excuse me.... What?! What?!

(turns away...into phone)

I missed the plane!? Dammit, Sam!

Furious, she brushes by Bill, tangling his mike. She rushes out.

EXT. SUITE - HALLWAY - AL

moves fast. He spots Cybil in distance, leaving her room.

She rushes to elevator, hits button, still talking in a rush.

CYBIL

How can he go to Napa without me? I'm writing the damn speech. I gotta have his input. I gotta see him!

The elevator arrives. She rushes in. Al moves quickly, slips in as doors close, leans against the wall, turned away. She smashes her phone into the wall. He glances, grins at her, then turns away. She fumes, then notices something off about him, grows anxious, but stares determinedly ahead, mumbling to herself.

Elevators. Always embarrassing. I mean...a beautiful woman. Do you speak or is that too forward. And.. where do you look?

Cybil glances over and back. She punches phone buttons.

CYBIL

At your shoes.

(into phone)

Brooks, Cybil. Look, they left without me! I know! I know! Now, can you get me on that next chopper? I don't care. I'll fly. I'll take a valium. But I'll fly!

(looking at shoes curiously)

Seen them.

CYBIL

Ceiling.

Hurts my neck.

CYBIL

Straight ahead, then.

Yes. Probably you're right.

She shoots him a glance, but can't see his face. She edges away.

CYBIL

(into phone, softly)

Look, I'm the Press Secretary for chrissake! And if I'm not on that next chopper...!

She notices Al is acting strange. He leans forward, stares intently at the elevator buttons. Floor 17 is lit. He punches the plate. It goes out. Floor 1 goes on with a BOING.

CYBIL

What the hell?

You're beautiful. We both agree.

She looks worried, looks around, no one is there to help.

CYBIL

Both?

Gene and I. We think you're

the answer.

She turns to him. His face is hidden under his guard hat brim. She slowly reaches for her pager/alarm.

Don't be alarmed, please. I could never harm you.

She looks closely.

CYBIL

You're a bot! You're the bot! What do you want?!!

To talk.

CYBIL

That's all?

Yes... I think.

CYBIL

Oh, okay.

See. No problem.

CYBIL

No problem. Everything's fine.

The elevator opens. She gets off, SCREAMS her head off!

CYBIL

Help. Help me. A bot! It's him!

A man appears. She runs up to him, grabs him... Gene!

CYBIL

A bot! It's him, the runaway bot!

Gene looks at Al.

GENE

What happened?

I just said...hello.

CYBIL

He's a bot! What are you doing? A goddamn rogue bot! Loose!

Gene pulls her back into Elevator with Al. The door closes.

GENE

Yeah, I know.

(to Al)

What did you do? She's screaming.

Just tried to talk. Guess I don't understand human women.

GENE

Don't worry. Nobody does. Just let her go and we'll get out of here.

Gene, she knows. She'll tell.

CYBIL

I won't. I know nothing. I don't know who you are. You better let me go right now. Before I find out.

Gene's tempted. Al shakes his head. Cybil glares, indignant.

You said she has the answer. We have to take her with us.

CYBIL

No you don't. You'll be in a lotta trouble.

GENE

We're in...a lot of trouble.

Yeah. We're desperate, dangerous men.

(to Gene)

That's why I had to find the girl.

GENE

I never told you to find the girl. I told you not to come here!

Well, on my hierarchical decision tree, it's clearly programmed...

CYBIL

Ec....scuze me. Gentlemen. What's it gonna be? I got a plane to catch.

The bot rolls his eyes. Gene decides.

GENE

Better do what he says. He's a new model. We've been having trouble with him.

CYBIL

(backs further)

What kind of trouble?

Al gives her a scary little twitch.

GENE

Killed a woman once, looked a lot like you.

Al turns to Gene.

I did?

Gene glares at Al.

Oh, I did.

He tries to look scary. She panics, fights them.

GENE

Careful! I can't control him when he's like this. No sudden moves. Just go along. I'll figure it out.

The door opens. Security men turn. Gene clamps a hand over Cybil's mouth before she can scream, backs in. Door closes.

INT. EXT. ROOF EXIT - ELEVATOR.

A campaign chopper idles on the pad. A pilot speaks on a phone next to the elevator. Al moves to him, leans close, listens. The pilot switches hands, turns face-to-face with a grinning Bot.

INT. CHOPPER.

Co-Pilot writes in log. Tapping on door. He looks out, when he looks back, the Pilot is climbing up, face turned away.

(mimicking Pilot)

New orders. Take these guys to Napa.

Back door opens, Gene pushes Cybil in.

CO-PILOT

What orders? I didn't hear a thing.

Maybe you want to look at the

flight plan while I take off.

A beat. The Co-Pilot looks at him suspiciously.

Or maybe you should take off.

Al pushes him out the door, slams it, revs the engine. Gene climbs in front. Cybil's eyes pop open wide.

CYBIL

What are you doing? (to Gene) What is he doing?

GENE

Can you fly?

CYBIL

No.

GENE

Neither can I.

CYBIL

Can he?

She turns to Al. He smiles, yanks cyclic. The chopper shudders.

Oh, sure.

CYBIL

I'm not filled with confidence.

She starts to climb out. Gene pulls her back. Security men burst through the roof exit, rush them. Al yanks the cyclic hard.

Hey, how hard could it be?!

The chopper lurches into the air as Cybil struggles, screaming.

CYBIL

Actually, I don't like to fly. I really don't. Not even with humans. No! Let me outta here! Let me go!

Gene does. She moves. The chopper heels over, she shrinks back.

GENE

There's the door.

CYBIL

This is kidnapping! Put me down!

GENE

We'll find a place, set down and talk it out.

CYBIL

Talk what out? I want down. Now!

GENE

You're Payne's Press Secretary.

CYBIL

Me? No. I'm just a campaign worker.

GENE

You're "Cybil the Shiv," Mad Dog of the advance team.

CYBIL

(shrugs)

Hey, show a little competence, they call you a bitch.

GENE

We've got your dossier here.

He taps Al's cranium. Al nods.

CYBIL

I was lucky. I work hard. I got juice. And ...soon as I get back, I'll put in a good word for you two.

She looks from one to the other.

CYBIL

Where we going?

You don't like me.

CYBIL