Hackers Page #10

They slam Dade against a wall and start frisking him.

DADE:

Christ! What is the...

AGENT BOB:

Shut up!

DADE:

What are you doing, man? Get off me!

They lead him into his room and throw him down on the bed.

Plague is there.

AGENT BOB:

Just sit in the bed and keep your hands where we can see

them.

PLAGUE:

The year was 1988. And this nasty virus

crashed fifteen hundred systems in one day.

Dade has a flashback.

DADE:

Fifteen hundred and seven.

AGENT RAY:

(astounded)

Wow, huh!

GILL:

It got you seven years probation. No

computer, couldn't even use a touch tone

phone.

PLAGUE:

Must have been hell, huh? Zero Cool?

(getting to the point)

A virus has been planted in the Ellingson

Mineral computer system. You were our prime

suspect, till we trashed your stuff and found

no trace of it.

GILL:

However, we have come to believe that one Joey

Pardella is involved in this Ellingson virus.

He or perhaps his accomplice has a disk that

Mr. Belford needs to disable that virus. We

want you to help us find it.

PLAGUE:

Gill.

The three secret service agents leave Plague and Dade

alone. Plague shuts the door behind them.

PLAGUE:

(of Gill)

Loser.

(continues)

I can't believe you were only eleven when you

wrote this. It's quite an impressive virus.

Dade, I know how you might feel about narking

on your friends, but, we're hackers. For us,

there's no such thing as family and friends.

We're each our own country, with temporary

allies and enemies. I'd like to make a treaty

with you.

DADE:

I'm sorry. Who are you?

PLAGUE:

I'm the one who understands you. Now, can we

be allies?

DADE:

Nah. I don't play well with others.

Plague is holding Dade's baseball bat. He shrugs, turns

around, and smashes Dade's stereo to smithereens.

DADE:

Sh*t! Come on!

PLAGUE:

Watch which friends you do play with. A

record like yours could land you in jail, get

you kicked out of school, no colleges would

take you. No future. Exiled from everyone and

everything you love.

Plague replaces the baseball bat.

PLAGUE:

I'll be in touch.

Plague leaves.

PLAGUE:

(to agents)

I'm fine.

(to Dade)

Oh, and Dade, try to stay out of trouble, okay?

DADE:

Blow me.

PLAGUE:

(smiles)

Thank you!

INT. DADE'S ROOM. LATER.

Dade is lying in bed. A door opens. It's Kate. She opens

her motorcycle jacket, revealing her bare breasts. Dade

starts to get up, she pushes him back own on the bed and

starts kissing him passionately. He responds in kind.

Then, Gill, Agent Ray and Agent Bob burst into the room,

handcuff him, break the two up and haul them away as

Plague looks on smugly.

Then Dade wakes up in a sweat. It was only a dream. He

regains his composure. The sound of New York City at

night surrounds him. He goes back to sleep.

INT. KATE'S PLACE.

The party. A large, well-furnished apartment in an

elegant old skyscraper in the fashionable part of town.

Teenagers dance and writhe to loud, bassy music. Dade and

Phreak arrive.

PHREAK:

Her mom makes big bucks writing self-help

books for women. Stuff like "Women Who Love

Men Who Are Emotional Amoebae"

Phreak shows Dade the book.

DADE:

That explains a lot.

Kate, the lovely and gracious hostess, mingles and greets

her many guests, not noticing Dade or Phreak. Cereal

offers Dade a drink from a plastic bottle. Dade, not

knowing what he's in for, drinks. Nikon is the Deejay.

PHREAK:

(loudly)

Yo, what's up Nikon!

NIKON:

Yo Phreak! Dade, man, you made it.

(to Cereal)

Houston, we have liftoff, 3 o'clock,

check it... don't look right away, what's

wrong with you! Look at her man...

Nikon and Cereal are checking out a truly fine babe.

NIKON:

(concentrating)

Look out, man. Lisa Blair, 26 East 7th St.,

apartment 16, 555-4817, BOOM!

DADE:

How did you know that?

NIKON:

I got photographic memory.

(Smiling)

It's a curse!

(Into the crowd)

Lisa!

LISA:

Hey, how do you know my name?

Cereal and Phreak move through the crowd. Cereal notices

something.

CEREAL:

Oooo, look at that pooper man. Spandex, it's

a privilege, not a right!

INT. MEETING HALL.

A 12-step recovery group. Addicts, including Joey

Pardella, sit in a semi-circle.

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