Alien Nation Page #12

INT. SYKES' APARTMENT - LATER STILL

The party has moves into the living room floor, around the

coffee table. It's a quieter moment.

JETSON:

There is so much our two peoples

don't understand about each other.

SYKES:

No sh*t, Holmes. You're only from

another goddamn planet, for

chrissakes.

JETSON:

You humans are very curious to us.

You invite us to live among you, in

an atmosphere of equality we've

never known before. You lay before

us a beautiful green world, full of

freedoms and opportunities... You

give us ownership of our lives for

the first time... and you ask no

more of us than you do of

yourselves:
to live by the rules...

rules that aren't made to keep one

people subordinate to another, but

rules that exist to preserve

equality. You aspire to very high

ideals here.

Sykes is watching Jetson, mesmerized. The guy's never

said this much at one time before.

If he wasn't drunk, Jetson would never let himself open up

to a human like this.

JETSON:

(continuing)

I hope you can understand how

special your world is... how unique

a people you humans are. So it us

all the more painful and confusing

to us that so few of you seem

capable of living up the the ideals

you set for yourselves.

SYKES:

Don't count on me, George. I never

had any ideals.

Jetson smiles a little. He knows that's bullshit.

JETSON:

We don't understand the hatred, the

contempt. But we must bear it... we

must not react in anger... because

our situation here is still fragile.

The separationists would see us

returned to the quarantine camps.

The fundamentalists say we have no

more human rights than dogs or cats.

But the prejudice we face here is so

insignificant compared to the pain

that we've known before. And that

is why we are so grateful.

Sykes studies him a long time through heavy-lidded eyes.

Finally--

SYKES:

Yeah, well... except I did hear you

eat your dead.

Jetson looks at him a long beat, then--

JETSON:

(deadpan)

Only on Fridays.

Sykes stares at him for about five seconds and then

explodes with laughter.

SYKES:

You son-of-a-b*tch. You're okay.

Jetson stands unsteadily, and announces:

JETSON:

I'm going home.

SYKES:

Yeah, go home. Get some sleep. You

do sleep, don't you?

Jetson, going out the front door, just waves over his

shoulder without turning around. He's gone.

SYKES:

What a wildman...

Sykes, stands there wobbling, then he collapses backward

onto the sofa, unconscious. And we MATCH DISSOLVE TO--

INT. SYKES' APARTMENT - DAWN

The first hues of dawn stream through the window. Sykes

remains passed out on the sofa where we left him.

EXT. STREET - FRONT OF SYKES' BUILDING - DAWN

The slug-mobile parked at the curb. Silence, then the

RUMBLE of a heavy truck... and a tow truck turns onto this

street at the corner.

The tow truck glides to the curb in front of the slug-

mobile. The driver stays inside as his passenger alights

carrying a tool kit and a paper bag. The human is Quint.

Quint uses a slim-jim to open the slug-mobile door, then

slides behind the wheel.

INT. SLUG-MOBILE - DAWN

Quint slides the contents from the paper bag. It is a

packet of C-4 plastic explosives, with a primer cap, and

two lead wires with their ends bared. Quint bends down,

starts to work under the dash. As his head disappears

from FRAME, suddenly another head appears above the

seats... George Jetson sitting up groggily in the back

seat. A blanket slips off his head and shoulders. He

sits there blinking, rubbing his eyes, feeling lousy.

Under the dash, Quint starts to whistle as he works.

Mistake.

Jetson, with a puzzled expression, leans forward and sees

this guy in the front seat. Before he can jump-start his

brain, Quint sits up, sees him, and hammers him in the

face with his fist. Jetson is knocked back, holding his

face. That was the last thing he needed.

EXT. STREET - FRONT OF SYKES' BUILDING - DAWN

Meanwhile Quint is shouting and bailing out of the car.

He runs and leaps into the already moving tow truck.

It is sliding around the corner out of sight just as

Jetson stumbles out of the car. He whips out his gun from

the unfamiliar shoulder rig and it flies out of his hand.

Jetson sags against the side of the car, mumbles an alien

phrase, clearly the equivalent of "F*** it...".

CUT TO:

INT. SYKES' APARTMENT - DAY

Sykes is in the fetal position on the couch where we left

him. Someone is POUNDING on the door. He regains

consciousness reluctantly.

SYKES:

This better be good news or money.

He shambles to the door and gets it open, admitting

Jetson. Jetson holds the C-4 charge in a handkerchief

with one hand and gives it to Sykes.

JETSON:

Hold this.

(lurching to the

sink)

I feel very terrible.

Sykes registers what he's holding. He moves to Jetson,

who is running his head under the tap.

SYKES:

Where'd you get this?!!

JETSON:

A man, a human, was wiring it to

your car. I didn't get a good look

at him.

(then, registering

that it's day;

panicked)

I must call my wife...

CUT TO:

INT. PRECINCT FIRST FLOOR HALLWAY - DAY

Jetson is starting to take on Sykes' looks, his clothing

rumpled and a day old. Sykes has showered and changed so

he's not suffering as much by comparison. They approach

Sykes' desk.

JETSON:

She's going to divorce me.

SYKES:

George, she's not gonna divorce you.

You mate for life, remember?

JETSON:

She's very progressive. I'm certain

she's considering it.

ANGLE - A UNIFORMED SECRETARY

distributing phone slips nearby notices Sykes.

SECRETARY:

You guys are looking for somebody

named Strader, right?

SYKES:

Yeah.

SECRETARY:

Fedorchuk and Alterez just phoned

in. They found him.

(Sykes and Jetson

react)

Or at least what's left of him,

washed up on the beach at Zuma.

Sykes and Jetson react again.

SECRETARY:

(continuing; handing

over the message

slip)

They're still there if you wanna

catch them.

She moves off.

SYKES:

Well, let's roll, George.

JETSON:

(with a stricken

expression)

To the... to the beach?

SYKES:

Come on, let's go, dude. Surf's up!

CUT TO:

EXT. PACIFIC COAST HIGHWAY - ZUMA BEACH - DUSK

CRANE SHOT, nice and WIDE, showing the slug-mobile turning

off P.C.H. onto a gravel road which curves down the the

beach. The following is V.O. as the car approaches the

water.

JETSON (V.O.)

Stop the car.

SYKES (V.O.)

Why?

JETSON (V.O.)

Please, I must get out here.

SYKES (V.O.)

Come on, you won't have to get near

the water.

JETSON (V.O.)

Stop the car!

We see the car pull to a stop in a cloud of dust.

INT. SLUG-MOBILE - DUSK

SYKES:

All right, okay. Keep your

pantyhose on. Jeez, when in doubt,

freak out, for chrissake.

Sykes sees that his partner is covered with a sudden sheen

of sweat, his hands shaking. Sykes softens.

SYKES:

(continuing)

It's all right, George. It's cool.

Just wait here, all right? I'll be

back in a coupla minutes.

JETSON:

Thank you.

He climbs out and Sykes drives down to the beach... toward

a cluster of vehicles: a Sheriff's black-and-white, a

coroner's wagon, and Fedorchuk's unmarked sedan.

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