Hackers

EXT. FRONT YARD. DAY.

Slow motion. Armed troops in black uniforms pour out of

unmarked vans and swarm across a lawn in a middle class

residential neighborhood. Yuppie neighbours look on in

shock, confused. Two of the troops carry a battering ram

to the front door of a white two-storey house. A leashed

Rottweiler snarls and barks. In position, their comrades

point M-16s into first-floor windows, ready to be

ambushed. Pan into a window in the kitchen. An

attractive woman in her thirties is making breakfast.

Now, in regular motion, the battering ram breaks open the

front door. The woman, startled, drops her spatula.

INT. MURPHY RESIDENCE. DAY.

WOMAN:

(screams)

Oough! Ahhh!

SECRET SERVICE AGENT

(to others)

Upstairs.

Troops pour into the house.

WOMAN:

What's going on? What's the matter?

Who are you?

The troops, and one or two trenchcoated agents, continue

entering the house and heading upstairs, still with rifles

ready.

WOMAN:

Hey!

Upstairs, crowded in the narrow hallway, the troops

descend on a bedroom.

WOMAN:

(off camera)

Dade! Dade!

AGENT:

Knock it down.

The battering ram knocks down a bedroom door.

INT. COURTROOM.

The prosecutor, a woman of about forty, gives her closing

argument blandly. She'd rather be somewhere else.

PROSECUTOR:

The defendant, Dade Murphy, who calls

himself "Zero Cool", has repeatedly

committed criminal acts of a malicious

nature. This defendant possesses a

superior intelligence, which he uses to a

destructive and antisocial end. His

computer virus crashed one thousand five

hundred and seven computer systems,

including Wall Street trading systems,

single handedly causing a seven point drop

in the New York Stock Market.

As she speaks, the camera pans across the court, panning

down and stopping on the defendant: eleven year old Dade

Murphy.

Fast forward to the sentencing.

JUDGE:

Dade Murphy, I hereby fine your family

forty-five thousand dollars...

The court gasps, Dade's father winces

JUDGE:

...and sentence you to probation, under

which you are forbidden to own or operate

a computer or touch tone telephone, until

the day of your eighteenth birthday.

Now Dade winces, in fact we almost expect him to cry.

Opening credits roll to a backdrop of Dade and his family

and lawyer fighting through a gaggle of journalists and

photographers, in slow motion, and driving away.

SEVEN YEARS LATER.

Aboard a jetliner, Dade Murphy is staring blankly out the

window, wearing headphones. Exterior view from the

aircraft of approaching New York City. The view becomes a

direct overhead of the buildings and streets of the city,

which then metamorphoses (through animation) into chips

and digital signals on a stylised computer board. The

title logo.

INT. DADE'S ROOM.

Segue to Dade Murphy, now 18, wearing mirrorshades indoors

and at night, working on his new computer. His mother

calls him.

MRS. MURPHY

(off camera)

Dade?

DADE:

Yeah, mom?

MRS. MURPHY

What are you doing?

DADE:

(after a semi-pregnant pause)

I'm taking over a TV network.

MRS. MURPHY

Finish up, honey, and get to sleep. And happy

birthday.

INT. OTV STUDIOS.

In the OTV Studios security department, a phone rings, a

man answers nervously.

NORM:

Security, uh Norm, Norm speaking.

DADE:

Norman? This is Mr. Eddie Vedder, from

Accounting. I just had a power surge here at

home that wiped out a file I was working on.

Listen, I'm in big trouble, do you know

anything about computers?

NORM:

Uhhmmm... uh gee, uh...

DADE:

Right, well my BLT drive on my computer just

went AWOL, and I've got this big project due

tomorrow for Mr. Kawasaki, and if I don't get

it in, he's gonna ask me to commit Hari

Kari...

NORM:

Uhhh.. ahahaha...

DADE:

Yeah, well, you know these Japanese management

techniques.

(pause)

Could you, uh, read me the number on the

modem?

NORM:

Uhhhmm...

DADE:

It's a little boxy thing, Norm, with switches

on it... lets my computer talk to the one

there...

NORM:

212-555-4240.

Dade goes to work on OTV. He closes his eyes and a flurry

of half-second video clips from old TV shows flashes by.

He opens his eyes. His screen says ENTERING ARPS 331 and

then wipes to another screen. Automated Record Playback

System. There is a graphic representation of the

station's automatic videotape changer. Dade turns on his

TV set and turns to OTV. It is running a Rush-Limbaugh

type TV show.

COMMENTATOR:

(on TV)

...so-called American Indians, Latinos and

Blacks come from a genetically mediocre

stock...

DADE:

Yak yak yak. Get a job!

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