Avatar Page #3

The room gets very quiet.

QUARITCH:

We have an indigenous population of

humanoids here called the Na'vi. They're

fond of arrows dipped in a neurotoxin

which can stop your heart in one minute.

We operate -- we live -- at a constant

threat condition yellow.

PAN ACROSS the solid faces of miners, Cat-machine drivers,

engineers, geologists, as they take that in.

QUARITCH:

As head of security, it's my job to keep

you alive. I will not succeed --

(pausing for effect)

-- not with all of you. If you wish to

survive, you need a strong mental

attitude, you need to follow procedure...

PUSH IN ON JAKE, watching as the briefing continues.

JAKE (V.O.)

Nothing like an old-school safety brief

to put your mind at ease.

CUT TO:

INT. CORRIDOR

People are roaming in both directions, looking for rooms,

lugging duffels and cases.

An eager young XENOANTHROPOLOGIST, staggering under an

overpacked duffel, runs to catch up to Jake.

NORM:

Hey, you're Jake right? Tom's brother?

You look just like him.

(off Jake's wary look)

Sorry, I'm Norm Spellman, I went through

avatar training with him.

11.

Norm offers his hand and Jake shakes it.

NORM:

He was a great guy -- funny. It was a

big shock to all of us.

JAKE:

Yeah.

Jake pumps the wheels of his chair, rolling on. Norm walks

with him.

NORM:

And duh! -- obviously you look like him.

I mean, if you weren't genetically

identical, you wouldn't be taking over

his avatar.

JAKE:

That's why I'm here.

NORM:

So -- you want to go check it out?

CUT TO:

INT. BIO-LAB - DAY

JAKE AND NORM enter the BIO-LAB -- a large lab complex with

many adjoining rooms.

MAX:

Me and Norm were out here to drive these

remotely controlled bodies called

avatars. They're grown from human DNA

mixed with DNA from the natives here.

A scientist, DOCTOR MAX CULLIMORE, is supervising the

uncrating of two SHIPPING CONTAINERS. The nearer has the

sides removed, revealing -- a ceiling-height acrylic TANK.

Norm stops to stare, and Jake rolls past him as if drawn by

some unseen force, toward --

THE AMNIO TANK. There is a FIGURE floating lanquidly inside,

which looks like a man. A very large, very blue, man.

Blood circulates through a synthetic UMBILICAL in the

abdomen. As the figure turns in the amniotic fluid, we see

that it has a lemur-like TAIL. The skin is cyan-blue. Long

black hair drifts, graceful as seaweed.

JAKE:

Damn. They got big.

12.

NORM:

Yeah, they mature on the trip out.

(to Max)

So the proprioceptive sims worked pretty

well.

MAX:

Yeah, they've got great muscle tone. Give

us a few hours, you guys can take them

for a spin.

THE FIGURE'S sleeping face turns toward us, and the features

are -- despite feline ears and a long feral snout --

definitely JAKE'S.

JAKE:

It looks like him.

NORM:

No, it looks like you. This is your

avatar now, Jake.

ON JAKE, mesmerized as he stares into the tank.

JAKE (V.O.)

The idea is -- every driver is matched to

his own avatar --

STEREOCAM VIDEO SHOT OF JAKE -- facing the camera, talking

directly to the lens. JAKE'S VOICE-OVER up until now has

been part of this VIDEOLOG.

JAKE:

-- so their nervous systems are in tune.

Or something. Which is why they offered

me this gig, because I can link with

Tommy's avatar, which was insanely

expensive.

(looking off camera)

Is this right? I just say whatever in

these videologs?

WIDER, showing Norm working nearby with Max.

NORM:

Yeah. You just need to get in the habit

of documenting everything -- what you

see, what you feel -- it's all part of

the science. Good science starts with

good observation.

13.

JAKE:

Right.

(to camera)

So, whatever. Here I am. Doing science.

(looks around)

Never been in a lab before.

MAX:

Log off. It's time to meet your boss for

the next five years.

He leads Jake and Norm through the short corridor to the --

CUT TO:

INT. LINK ROOM - DUSK

The LINK ROOM contains a dozen PSIONIC LINK UNITS, which look

like coffins crossed with MRI scanners.

NORM:

Grace Augustine is a legend. She's the

head of the Avatar Program, and she wrote

the book -- I mean literally wrote the

book -- on Pandoran botany.

MAX:

(low, over his shoulder)

That's because she likes plants better

than people.

DR. GRACE AUGUSTINE sits up in her link, stretching and

cracking her neck after a long session. She's fifty, with a

strong face and fiercely intelligent eyes.

GRACE:

(YELLING)

Who's got my goddamn cigarette?!

A TECH scurries to bring it to her, already lit. Around here

they jump when Grace barks.

Grace stands, scowling, as Jake, Norm and Max approach.

MAX:

And here she is, Cinderella back from the

ball. Grace, I'd like you to meet Norm

Spellman and Ja --

GRACE:

Norm. I hear good things about you.

How's your Na'vi?

14.

NORM:

(Na'vi, subtitled)

May the All Mother smile upon our first

meeting.

Grace nods approvingly, taking a drag on her cigarette.

GRACE:

(SUBTITLED)

Not bad. You sound a little formal.

NORM:

(SUBTITLED)

There is still much to learn.

Jake waits while they ignore him, chattering in fluent Na'vi.

MAX:

Uh, Grace, this is Jake S----

GRACE:

(turning to Jake)

Yeah, yeah, I know who you are, and I

don't need you. I need your brother.

(to Max)

You know -- the PhD who trained three

years for this mission.

JAKE:

He's dead. I know it's a big

inconvenience to everyone.

GRACE:

How much lab training have you had? Ever

run a gas chromatograph?

JAKE:

No.

GRACE:

Any actual lab work at all?

JAKE:

High school chemistry. But I ditched.

Grace wheels on Max.

GRACE:

You see? You see? They're pissing on us

without even the courtesy of calling it

rain.

(turning away)

I'm going to Selfridge.

15.

She shoves past Jake.

MAX:

Grace, that's not a good idea.

But she's already out the door and clomping down the

corridor. Max turns to Jake with a pained look.

MAX:

Here, tomorrow, oh eight hundred. Try to

use big words.

CUT TO:

INT. OPS CENTER - DUSK

It looks like an air-traffic control tower, with lots of

screens and bay windows showing the whole complex.

ADMINISTRATOR PARKER SELFRIDGE takes a ball from a newly

opened case of TITLEISTS and sets it on the floor. Selfridge

is young, charismatic, focused. Some would say ruthless.

He assumes the stance and lines up his putt, toward a

practice cup across the control room floor. He glances up as

Grace strides toward him.

GRACE:

Parker, I used to think it was benign

neglect, but now I see you're

intentionally screwing us.

SELFRIDGE:

Grace. You know I enjoy our little

talks.

GRACE:

I need a research assistant, not some

jarhead dropout.

Selfridge looks down and hits the ball.

Grace kicks the practice cup aside, and the ball rolls past.

Selfridge looks at her with a sigh.

SELFRIDGE:

Actually, we got lucky with him.

GRACE:

Lucky? How is this in any way lucky?

As Selfridge saunters over to retrieve the ball --

16.

SELFRIDGE:

Well -- lucky your guy had a twin

brother, and lucky the brother wasn't an

oral hygienist or something. A Marine we

can use. I'm assigning him to your team

as security escort.

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