Conspiracy Theory

FADE IN:

INT. MANHATTAN STREETS - CAB - DAY

Behind the wheel: JERRY FLETCHER. Flat-out handsome if

not for his eyes. Someone rash, someone making an

uninformed decision might call them crazy eyes. He stops

across from an apartment building, TOOTS his HORN.

IN DOORWAY:

A woman and a man, a CYNIC, appear. Jerry smiles as they

kiss goodnight. A bit of desperate passion. She watches

after him as he gets in the cab.

CYNIC:

Luxembourg Towers on 7th.

INT. CAB

Jerry nods, rolls out. The Cynic watches the door to

1257 close, then sighs. Jerry looks at him in the

rearview.

JERRY:

The sound of love.

CYNIC:

Excuse me?

Jerry exhales an exaggerated sigh.

JERRY:

That's love.

CYNIC:

Love? Love's just a pretty way of

saying, 'I want to sleep with

you'. Love is bullshit.

JERRY:

I live on tips, so don't be

offended, but you're a liar. I

saw you kiss. Admit it, this is

the street where love lives.

The Cynic looks back over his shoulder. Down love

street. As Jerry hangs a right, the Cynic faces forward.

JERRY:

Love gives you wings. It makes

you fly. I don't even call it

love. I call it Geronimo.

CYNIC:

Geronimo?

JERRY:

Geronimo. When you're really in

love, you'll jump. Off the top of

the Empire State. Screaming

'Geronimo' the whole way down.

CYNIC:

But you'll die. You'll squash

yourself. What's the point?

JERRY:

Aren't you listening, man? Love

gives you wings.

The Cynic just smiles, leans back.

CYNIC:

She must be some girl.

JERRY:

I love her so bad. She just...

wrecks me. I would die for her.

ANOTHER ANGLE:

Jerry stops at a light. A road crew are at work ahead.

A white strobe light warns motorists that they're here.

CYNIC:

She feel the same about you?

Jerry can't take his eyes off the stroke. As he blinks.

JERRY:

I don't know.

FLASH CUT TO:

SUBJECTIVE POV:

Looking down as a man's arms are strapped to the arm of a

chair. The POV JERKING UP as the same is done with the

head. A kaleidoscope of flashing lights ahead, then

darkness as eyes are shut. They're forced open. We see

the reflection of blue eyes in glass as they're taped

open. As bright lights strobe...

BACK TO TAXI:

Jerry stares at the light, transfixed.

JERRY:

I never told her.

CYNIC:

Why the hell not?

JERRY:

I, uh, I have some problems.

The traffic light glows green; Jerry doesn't see it. The

sound of conspiratorial WHISPERS fill the taxi.

FLASH CUT TO:

SUBJECTIVE POV:

The contents of a syringe pumped into the strapped arm.

The walls begin to melt. The WHISPERS CONTINUE.

GARBLED, but their tone is perfectly clear. Threatening.

Cabalistic. Human forms appear. Stretched impossibly

long, melting along with the walls.

We CLOSE ON the reflection of a dozen pair of the same

taped-open eyes. The WHISPERING CUTS SHORT. Ominously.

The eyes dart from side-to-side as FOOTSTEPS approach.

The eyes suddenly widen in agony. As Jerry's scream of

pain becomes the BLARE of a HORN, we find ourselves back

in the...

TAXI:

Going about 60 mph. Jerry snaps to just in time to avoid

a head-on collision with a car coming the other way.

CYNIC:

Are you crazy?!

JERRY:

The guy came right at us!

CYNIC:

You turned up a one way street!

Jerry watches, in a sweat, as he passes a "ONE WAY" sign

pointing the opposite way. He mutters to himself.

JERRY:

I was only going one way.

CYNIC:

Drop me off here!

JERRY:

Look, I'm sorry --

CYNIC:

Just drop me off.

ANOTHER ANGLE:

Jerry pulls to the curb. The meter at $3.60. The Cynic

slides a twenty through the slot and is out the door.

Jerry watches over his shoulder as the Cynic disappears

down the street. Jerry rubs his eyes, tries to regroup.

JERRY:

Love street...

EXT. FIFTH AVENUE (MANHATTAN) - NIGHT

Late. The cab rolls, this time the right way. Ahead, a

well-dressed man steps off the curb, flags Jerry down.

CAB:

Jerry slows, stops. As the well-dressed man starts over,

Jerry sizes him up. The man seems suddenly sinister.

As he reaches for the door, LOCKS CLICK DOWN. Jerry GUNS

the CAB away. The confused man stumbles back, shouts,

apparently not a threat at all.

EXT. APARTMENT BUILDING (UPTOWN) - NIGHT

Headlights out, the cab pulls up to the curb.

INT. CAB - NIGHT

Jerry glances at a lit 2nd floor apartment window, then

settles in with a bologna sandwich. About to take a

bite, he pauses, removes a slice of bologna. He regards

it a beat, then carefully peels off the edge. Jerry

holds the narrow casing up against the glow of a

streetlight, like it was encoded. Then something catches

his eye. He trades the sandwich for binoculars, focuses

on the window.

BINOCULAR POV - WINDOW

LIZA SUTTON. In a Yale sweatshirt, stretching, earphones

on. She forces her head past her kneecap and holds it

there. Driven is the word to describe Liza. When she

sleeps, she tries to do it better than anyone else does.

We can't hear her, but as she finishes stretching, she

sings along with the music on her headset.

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