Demolition Man Page #19

HURLED SCRAP:

(genuine pleading)

Please... don't...

Spartan stops. Backs away. Watches oddly as the Scrap

escapes. He lets them go. Steps back away as the others

escape. They don't know why he changed his mind, but

they're not staying around to find out.

Huxley and the restaurant patrons rush up to give him a

blast of adulation. Spartan's attention stays on the

fleeing Scraps.

HUXLEY:

Such a reckless abandonment!

Looks like there's a new shepherd

in town!

SPARTAN:

'Sheriff'... Who were those guys?

COCTEAU:

We call them Scraps. Voluntary

outcasts, they cower beneath us

in sewers, abandoned tunnels...

ASSOCIATE BOB:

They're nothing but thugs and

hooligans.

Cocteau nods appreciatively; Bob is echoing some previous

statement of his. In the b.g., a team of uniformed

engineers are patching up a hole in the ground using a

set of steel planks, laser welders, giant cement spurting

pastry bags...

HUXLEY:

(to Spartan)

You are even better live than on

laserdisc. Oh, and the joyjoy

way you paused to make a glib

witticism before doing battle with

that strangely-weaponed Scrap it

was so, so...

SPARTAN:

(losing it)

Hey, this isn't the Wild West.

The Wild West wasn't even the Wild

West. Hurting people is not a

good time. Well, sometimes it

is... but not when it's just a

bunch of guys who want something

to eat. You know, I think I

liked it better when we were all

supposed to fry in a nuclear

holocaust.

Cocteau doesn't look pleased about any of this. Spartan

storms off. Lenina, letting out a shocked breath, gulps

and follows after him.

EXT. ADDITIONAL SAN ANGELES STREET - NIGHT

Huxley's cruiser glides INTO FRAME.

HUXLEY (V.O.)

Huxley, coding off.

INT. LENINA'S POLICE CAR - MOVING - NIGHT

Spartan watches as the steering wheel retracts into the

dash. Shakes his head. Everything is weird in the

future. Then --

SPARTAN:

Hey, look, I'm sorry I yelled

before... back there.

HUXLEY:

No need to make a dehurtful

retraction. I've assimilated

too much contraband. I fleshed

you as some blow-up-the-bad-guys-

with-a-happy-grin-he-man type, but

I realize now you're the moody-

troubled-past-gunslinger-who-only-

draws-when-he-must.

SPARTAN:

Huxley. Stop. I'm not any of

that... I'm nothing.

Touched, Lenina hands Spartan a small, unusual box.

HUXLEY:

Oh, hey, here's what you asked

for... Why do you...

SPARTAN:

Thanks. It's just a... hunch.

LENINA'S APARTMENT - NIGHT

Lenina's CAR WHIRRS up to two giant, geometric buildings.

SPARTAN:

This is where you live?

HUXLEY:

You, too. I have procured you a

domicile down the corridor from

my own.

INT. LENINA'S APARTMENT - NIGHT

BLACK SCREEN:

HUXLEY (O.S.)

Everything is voice-coded. So if

you need something...

A door opens in the darkness.

HUXLEY:

... just ask. Lights.

Lights come up. The place is like one of the 50's

diners that never existed in the Fifties, the apartment

is a monstrosity -- a melange of 80's and 90's styles

never quite seen together in this way.

HUXLEY:

(proudly)

What do you think? I clicked off

a lot of credits to create the

perfect 20th Century apartment.

SPARTAN:

It's very...

Not sure what. Just nods at all. She beams.

HUXLEY:

Isn't it?

(then; a little

halting)

John Spartan, there is of course a

well-known and documented connection

between sex and violence. Not so

much a causal effect, but a state

of general neurological arousal.

Spartan looks at her. He has no idea what her point is.

HUXLEY:

And after observing your behavior

and my resultant condition, I was

wondering if you would like to

have sex?

He had no idea that was going to be her point.

SPARTAN:

With you?

(as she nods)

Now?

(as she nods

again)

Ahhh, ahhh, mmm, yeah.

HUXLEY:

Great.

She turns quickly to a cabinet and removes two strange

high-tech helmets and a towel. Lenina, all excited, puts

one of the helmets on his head and hands him the towel.

Flicks a switch on the side of the helmet -- read-out

lights come on; activated. Lenina sits upon a bed

opposite Spartan, and repeats the operation on herself

with the other helmet.

HUXLEY:

Now you have to relax. We'll

start in a few seconds.

SPARTAN:

Start what?

HUXLEY:

Having sex, of course.

And she flicks on the switch on her own helmet.

VIRTUAL REALITY WORLD

Lenina appears floating, a diaphanous gown blowing

gently about her. She floats slowly TOWARDS us, as she

begins to peel off and discard pieces of the gown which

dissolve immediately away. As she approaches nakedness...

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