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E) Ted swerves onto the wrong side of the road, misses

the deer, sighs in relief --

F) The truck driver looks up, sees the Ford coming at

him, Ted still looking over his shoulder at --

FAWN:

who suddenly looks up at the O.S. sound of a HORRIBLE

CRASH --

-- then bounds off into the woods.

INT. ARROWAY KITCHEN - DUSK

The table is set. A stubby candle and some wildflowers in

a peanut-butter jar.

Ellie sits at her place, frowning. She glances up at the

wall clock -- and then slowly stands as she sees something

else THROUGH the kitchen window:

A sheriffs' car is pulling up, lights going, siren silent.

The sheriff looks up -- their eyes meet -- PUSH IN ON

Ellie --

CUT TO:

EXT. COUNTRYSIDE - NIGHT

Little cones of light illuminate the darkness as NEIGHBORS

search with their flashlights, calling:

NEIGHBORS:

Ellie... Ellie...?

EXT. ARROWAY HOUSE - NIGHT

The sheriff stands in front of the house, shaking his head

as he talks to a MINISTER. VOICES continue to CALL.

We start to CRANE UP, HIGHER and HIGHER until we clear the

house -- REVEALING Ellie lying on the roof, staring up at

the stars. Her fingers grip the shingles...

EXT. COUNTRY CEMETERY - DAY

The Minister kneels next to Ellie, watching her knead

another piece of bread into a ball before tossing it into

a small fish pond. In the b.g. we see the sheriff and

several relatives watching.

MINISTER:

I'm so sorry, Ellie. More than I

can ever say.

Ellie keeps watching the pond. The clouds overhead are

reflected in the patches of water between the lily pads.

ELLIE:

Those lily pads must look like

clouds to that carp, don't you

think?

The Minister frowns. Gently:

MINISTER:

Ellie... this life doesn't last

forever. Some day you and your Dad

are going to be together again, in

heaven.

ELLIE:

(turns to him;

equally gentle)

He isn't in heaven; he's in the

ground. We just put him there,

remember?

OFF the astonished Minister --

INT. ARROWAY HOUSE - NIGHT

Relatives, townspeople, the Minister and sheriff mingle

quietly. The kitchen table and counters are covered with

a sea of casseroles.

Ellie watches the gathered from a doorway, then slips

away.

INT. ARROWAY HOUSE - WORKSHOP AREA - NIGHT

Ellie slowly approaches the darkened bench area where the

SHORTWAVE is set up; the pin-dotted map above it. She

TURNS it ON; the dial glows.

She reaches out for the microphone, holding it tightly in

both hands. Pushes the button.

ELLIE:

CQ WR2, this is GFO, do you copy?

(looking up)

Dad, this is Ellie, come back.

EXT. HOUSE - HIGH ANGLE - NIGHT

Tiny Ellie is visible THROUGH the window, and as we begin

to PULL UP and AWAY her emotion-choked voice continues,

small and faraway...

ELLIE (V.O.)

This is Eleanor Arroway broadcasting

on 9.2 megahertz. Dad, are you

there? Come back. Come back. Come

back...

CUT TO:

DEEP SPACE - MESSAGE

-- rockets through the Rosette Nebula, a vast cloud of

glowing red hydrogen illuminated by young hot stars a

hundred times brighter than the sun. Their solar wind is

blowing out an immense cavity in the interstellar gas and

dust.

PALM LEAF:

lies on the streetlamp-lit sidewalk.

We hear the sound of a BUS PULLING UP, its door opening.

After a moment a pair of sneakered feet tentatively step

INTO FRAME. A suitcase is set down next to them as we

hear the BUS WHEEZE OFF into the night. A hand reaches

down, picks up the palm leaf.

22-YEAR-OLD ELLIE examines it, then looks up in

apprehension at the old prewar Spanish structure of Cal

Tech.

INT. CAMPUS BUILDING - CORRIDOR - NIGHT

Ellie's FOOTSTEPS ECHO as she walks down a corridor, its

walls hung with portraits of Galileo, Copernicus, Hubble.

She pauses at a photograph of Einstein standing outside

the entrance we just saw. Sound up cut: THE RAMONES' "I

Wanna Be Sedated" --

INT. DORM CORRIDOR - NIGHT

An altogether different sort of hallway, reflecting the

imagination and individuality of its occupants. The walls

are covered with whimsical graffiti ("anthropocentrism is

a 17 letter word;" "WATCH FOR FLYING POTATOES") and 3

A.M. paintings of alien sunsets; the MUSIC is coming from

behind a door covered in Tolkien and comic book art.

As Ellie enters this strange new world she begins to hear

animated voices coming from a room at the end of the hall.

VOICE #1 (V.O.)

... radio luminosity?

VOICE #2 (V.O.)

I dunno, maybe a post-spectral

starburst or something.

EVERYBODY (V.O.)

Right, right --

VOICE #3 (V.O.)

E+A is an elliptical? How can you

tell it's being lensed? Pass me the

Fruity Pebbles.

VOICE #4 (V.O.)

Well I guess you'd have to check

other elliptical galaxies, Mr.

Wizard --

INT. DORM ROOM - NIGHT

As Ellie peers around the corner we see six or seven

STUDENTS, mostly male, of mixed nationality and race,

passing around cereal which they eat from the box. A

primitive (circa 1980) home-built personal computer glows

in the b.g.; a door opens onto a terrace and the

California night beyond. They stop, look up at Ellie --

ELLIE:

I -- uh --

(clears her throat)

I was looking for Koestler Hall?

GUY (STUDENT)

This is it. Hey, do you know the

average radio-luminosity of an E+A

elliptical galaxy?

ELLIE:

Um... I'm not sure.

(hesitates)

Maybe you could deduce it from

lensing a post-spectral

starburst...?

GUY:

(beat, then to his

friend)

See, I told you!

(to Ellie)

Want some Fruity Pebbles?

Carcinogenic, but totally worth it.

Ellie takes the box, and as she tentatively enters the

room -- nibbles on the cereal -- she slowly sits. Smiles.

The argument rages on. She's home.

DEEP SPACE - MESSAGE

We ROAR by a rapidly rotating, flashing pulsar. Cosmic

dust filters the light into the shifting spectrum of

colors...

EXT. MOJAVE DESERT - DAY

DAVID DRUMLIN, 42, fit, sardonic -- and the world's

foremost radio astronomer -- leads a group of grad

students past the first Jet Propulsion Lab radio

telescopes at Goldstone. Ellie lags behind talking to

PETER VALERIAN, who is about as good-looking as an

astronomer should be allowed to be.

ELLIE:

... Drumlin said you're been down at

Arecibo for the last year.

PETER:

It's beautiful but it does get a

little lonely. Sometimes I think

the reason we build these things in

such godforsaken places isn't to

avoid excess radio traffic but

because we're all such pathetic

antisocial misfits... Speaking of

which:
How're you getting on with

the old man?

ELLIE:

He's an incredible prick but I never

learned so much in my life.

PETER:

(smiles)

That's what they all say.

In the b.g. we can see the majestic twin dishes tilted up

toward the hard blue sky. An awkward moment, which Ellie

fills by extending her hand.

ELLIE:

Ellie. Arroway.

PETER:

Peter Valerian.

ELLIE:

Sounds like a Russian general.

PETER:

Yavol.

DRUMLIN:

(calling back)

You're out of shape, Valerian.

What's the matter, eat too many

tacos down there in Puerto Rico?

He pronounces it "tackos" in his distinctive Montana

twang.

ELLIE:

I read your paper on ETI's. It's

brilliant.

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