Arcade

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.

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