Contact Page #7

Sound upcut:
a JET ENGINE ROARS --

EXT. WHITE SANDS AFB - DAY

AIR FORCE 2 lands with a SCREECH as Government Motor Pool

cars speed toward it across the tarmac.

National Security Advisor MICHAEL KITZ -- very sharp and

serious as death -- steps out of the plane... followed

momentarily by David Drumlin. He doesn't look happy.

EXT. VLA - MAIN ENTRANCE - DAY

Security guards stonewall two mobile TV news trucks. A

handful of protesters picket the entrance carrying signs;

"JUSTICE," "STOP THE COVERUP," "ROSWELL."

PROTESTERS:

(chanting)

U-F-O-s -- We want to know --

As Kitz, Drumlin and a small VIP delegation make their way

in, Local News Reporters thrust microphones in their faces

-- "Mr. Kitz, Dr. Drumlin --"

KITZ:

The President will be making a

statement in due time; until then we

have no comment.

INT. CONTROL CENTER - DAY

Fisher leads Kitz, Drumlin and the rest of the delegation

around the room. Coffee cups and cigarettes abound.

Drumlin crosses over to Willie's console, studies the

display. In the b.g. we hear the constant BEEPING of the

MESSAGE.

DRUMLIN:

What's the latest?

WILLIE:

Forty-four stations worldwide now

confirming the signal, sir.

DRUMLIN:

(to an aide)

Let's get some decryption people

here, now. Dr. Lunacharsky's

visiting at the University of New

Mexico --

Kitz and others look at the main display as the primes

continue to scroll.

KITZ:

I don't get it. If this

civilization is so advanced why the

remedial math?

SENATE DELEGATE:

Why don't they just speak English?

ELLIE (O.S.)

Maybe because seventy percent of the

planet speaks other languages.

All eyes turn to Ellie; she hasn't slept but you'd hardly

notice.

ELLIE:

Mathematics is the only truly

universal language, Senator. We

think this may be a beacon -- an

announcement to get our attention.

DRUMLIN:

If it's attention you want I'd say

you've got it.

(as Ellie turns to

him)

Just one thing:
Why Vega?

Everyone's looked at Vega for years

with no results, and now, yesterday,

they start broadcasting primes.

Why?

ELLIE:

It's hardly yesterday; the signal's

been traveling for over twenty-six

years. As for why...

(meeting his gaze)

I'm hoping your own expertise in

decryption algorithms will help us

find out -- to see if there's

another message buried deeper in the

signal.

Drumlin frowns, effectively neutralized for the moment.

KITZ:

Dr. Arroway --

DRUMLIN:

Michael Kitz, National Security

Advisor.

KITZ:

Dr. Arroway, let me first say --

ELLIE:

Before you do could you please ask

the gentlemen with the firearms to

wait outside? This is a civilian

facility.

Kitz pauses -- then gives a signal to dismiss the Berets.

ELLIE:

Oh, and if you could ask them not to

use their radios -- interference.

Thanks so much.

Drumlin warns her with a look, which she conveniently

avoids.

KITZ:

I'll come right to the point,

Doctor. Your sending this message

all over the world may well be a

breach of National Security.

ELLIE:

This isn't a person to person call,

Mr. Kitz. I don't really think the

civilization sending the message

intended it just for Americans.

KITZ:

I'm saying you might have consulted

us; the contents of this message

could be extremely sensitive...

ELLIE:

You want to classify prime numbers?

DRUMLIN:

Mike, because of the Earth's

rotation we're only in line with

Vega so many hours a day; the only

way to get the whole message is to

cooperate with other stations. If

Dr. Arroway hadn't moved quickly we

could have lost key elements.

KITZ:

Okay, fine, they've got the primes

-- but if you're right about there

being another more significant

transmission still to come --

ELLIE:

-- which we'll also need the

network's help to receive and

decode!

KITZ:

You don't seem to understand that

it's your interests I'm trying to

protect -- !

Suddenly the steady BEEPING of the MESSAGE STOPS, replaced

by terrible STATIC. On the various displays the prime

numbers start to scramble.

FISHER:

Oh sh*t.

ELLIE:

Interference -- we're losing the

signal.

EXT. VLA CONTINUOUS ACTION - DAY

Media choppers circle like buzzards: CNN, ABC, WGH Santa

Fe, freelance weather choppers on the lookout for "Hard

Copy" --

INT. VLA - CONTINUOUS ACTION - DAY

The DRONE of the CHOPPERS continues in the b.g.

KENT:

Can't we get rid of them?

ELLIE:

(looks up at Kitz;

slowly)

It's a civilian facility.

Kitz allows himself the barest hint of a smile -- then

switches on his radio and speaks calmly into it.

KITZ:

Colonel Jarrod, I'd like a twenty

mile radio-silent perimeter put

around this installation

immediately.

ELLIE:

And a hundred mile airspace.

KITZ:

And a hundred mile airspace.

EXT. VLA PERIMETER - DUSK

In the extreme f.g. a heavy-duty aluminum post is thrust

into the earth -- a fence is being erected.

INT. VLA ROOM - DUSK

Kitz stands in the former lounge/cafeteria; an improvised

command center has been set up on the ping-pong table.

Aides continue to hook up equipment as he talks on a red

phone:

KITZ:

... under control for the moment but

the longer we wait the more unstable

the situation could become. I think

you should consider coming here...

INT. CONTROL ROOM - DUSK

STEPHEN LUNACHARSKY, a high-strung Russian scientist,

chain smokes as he types. Ellie and Drumlin stand over

him, Kent next to him, others nearby.

ELLIE:

... could it be a nested code of

some sort?

DRUMLIN:

You must have checked the signal for

polarization modulation already...

Ellie hesitates. Drumlin looks at her. Whoops.

ELLIE:

Dr. Lunacharsky...?

LUNACHARSKY:

(takes a drag)

Analyzing signal polarization

shifts.

He type in a series of commands. Something begins to

happen on the main display --

LUNACHARSKY:

Bingo.

POV - THROUGH WINDOW

Kitz, on the phone, sees the activity around the console.

BACK TO SCENE:

Lunacharsky types in commands as he talks.

LUNACHARSKY:

A second layer, nested within the

main signal; possibly... a picture?

Product of three primes...

KITZ:

(joining them)

What.

LUNACHARSKY:

... definitely three dimensions,

either a hologram or a two-

dimensional picture that moves in

time; a movie.

DRUMLIN:

(dryly)

Hope there's a cartoon.

KITZ:

How is that possible? How could all

that information be encoded in --

KENT:

Well, sir, some bits of the signal

are bits that tell us how to

interpret the other bits.

Technically speaking.

JURYRIGGED 35-INCH MONITOR

Strings of zeros and ones fill the screen as the group

assembles around it.

ELLIE:

Enlarge.

Willie types. Ellie moves closer, studying it.

Intuitively:

ELLIE:

Try plotting values in a three

dimensional coordinate system.

A pattern begins to emerge.

DRUMLIN:

Throw a gray scale on it; standard

interpolation.

ELLIE:

Rotate 90 degrees counterclock wise.

Willie enters commands. All are mesmerized by the shadows

taking form on the screen.

ELLIE:

It has to be an image. Stack it up,

string-breaks every 60th character.

On the screen a distinct black and white moving image

forms; grays define it even further. The group is

transfixed. Kitz whispers to an aide who makes a call in

a hand radio.

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