Halt and Catch Fire Page #6

CAMERON:

Not like I would.

ANGLE ON the screen as she jumps too soon and her frog gets

killed against a car: POW.

CAMERON (CONT’D)

(turning to him)

Look, this is an entire industry

built on people ripping each other

off. SEC rips off CPM, Microsoft

rips off SEC, IBM rips off

everybody.

MACMILLAN:

Some people would say this isn’t

about money, but about making your

mark in the world.

(holds up a glass)

My turn.

(pause)

You ever worked with the IBM PC?

CAMERON:

(coy)

I’ve worked with a lot of hardware

in my time.

She downs the shot. Starting to get to her. MacMillan cracks

a smile.

MACMILLAN:

Forfeit?

CAMERON:

You need to win don’t you?

MacMillan takes his shot, looks at her. Something changes in

his eyes.

FADE TO BLACK.

INT. CLARK’S HOUSE - BATHROOM -- LATER

Gordon flips on the light, stares into the mirror. He’s in a

white t-shirt, boxers. Looks at himself, a tired mess.

DONNA (O.S.)

What’s wrong?

32.

He looks to the hallway. Donna stands in the shadows,

squinting in her robe.

CLARK:

Can’t sleep.

She lingers, then disappears. Clark leans in, examines his

face closely. Runs his hand over his unkempt mustache.

He turns on the sink. Swings the mirror open, pulls a razor,

shaving cream out of the medicine cabinet.

QUICK SHOTS:
CLARK SHAVES OFF HIS MUSTACHE

Rinses off. His face immediately fresher. His youth, hidden

until now, returns somewhat, as well as a bit of masculinity.

DONNA (O.S.)

What are you doing in here?

Clark turns to her. She’s taken aback.

DONNA (CONT’D)

Oh my God.

She steps closer to him, sleepy-eyed, but smiling. Runs her

hand across his face.

DONNA (CONT’D)

You’re a new man.

CUT TO:

INT. CAMERON’S BEDROOM -- LATER

MacMillan gets dressed, having trouble not knocking over the

clutter in her tiny college apartment as he puts on his

wingtips. It draws her awake.

CAMERON:

Where you going?

MACMILLAN:

This wasn’t part of the plan.

CAMERON:

(incredulous)

What plan?

MACMILLAN:

I’m sorry, Cameron. It’s Cameron,

right?

33.

CAMERON:

Okay, now you’re being a jerk.

MacMillan throws his suit coat on.

CAMERON (CONT’D)

Are you really just leaving?

MACMILLAN:

...yes.

CAMERON:

Well, what about the project?

MACMILLAN:

...don’t worry about it.

CAMERON:

Don’t worry about it? You dump this

opportunity in my lap and then say

‘don’t worry about it’?

She stands, wraps the sheet around herself.

CAMERON (CONT’D)

Maybe I don’t need you. Maybe I’ll

just do it myself. I don’t remember

signing any non-disclosure

agreements before we got into bed.

He turns, looks at her, his face pushing back the regret.

MACMILLAN:

Maybe you will.

He walks out of the apartment, SLAMS the door.

CUT TO:

INT. MACMILLAN’S CONDO -- DAWN

With the lights off, the whole place is lit only by a dim and

hazy blue of pre-morning.

ANGLE ON MacMillan, sitting in a chair blankly. Clearly been

up all night. He rises, goes to a moving box...

...opens it up. Pulls out a wooden Louisville slugger worn at

the grip. He’s silhouetted against his condo’s panoramic view

of cosmopolitan flatlands.

CUT TO:

34.

INT. GLASS-WALLED OFFICE -- DAY (FLASHBACK)

Barnes’ office. This is the first scene we saw. Joe is there,

livid. Barnes hides all emotion, plays it cool.

MACMILLAN:

You told me it wasn’t worth

anything.

BARNES:

It wasn’t worth anything, Joe, what

do you want me to say? It’s a wire

path about the size of a period,

for God’s sake.

White hot silence.

MACMILLAN:

(trembling)

Two days later... we patent it. Two

days later.

BARNES:

We have to protect our interests.

That’s our technology. It was

developed on company time.

We rejoin the opening shot. A long pause.

BARNES (CONT’D)

C’mon, Joe. It’s just business.

CUT TO:

INT. MACMILLAN’S CONDO -- PRESENT

MacMillan reaches back into the moving box. Pulls out a

baseball. Examines it for a moment. Then he tosses it up...

SWINGS THE BAT AND CONNECTS

Sending a line drive into the wall opposite him with a CRACK.

The ball dents the dry wall, then rolls back across the floor

to MacMillan’s feet. He picks it up again, tosses it...

SWINGS THE BAT AND SMASHES THE BALL THROUGH A LAMP

Destroying the shade and blowing the light bulb apart as the

base falls off another moving box. He picks the ball up

again...

SWINGS THE BAT, SENDS THE BALL OUT THROUGH HIS BALCONY WINDOW

With an EXPLOSION of glass.

35.

The cool morning air flutters over his loose tie as he gazes

out onto the horizon.

CUT TO:

INT. CARDIFF GIANT OFFICES - MACMILLAN’S OFFICE -- DAY

MacMillan sits at his terminal in an office that hasn’t even

been set up yet. He types methodically, focused.

ON THE SCREEN:

We see what he’s working on. In green letters against black,

it begins:

“To:
John Bosworth, Cardiff Giant Executive Team, et al

It is with sadness that I submit my formal resignation to the

company...”

MacMillan’s finger hovers over the ‘Print’ button.

GORDON CLARK ENTERS wearing beat up Ray-Ban Wayfarers,

carrying a large box adorned with the IBM logo. He sets it

down on MacMillan’s desk.

CLARK:

(taking glasses off)

Do you know how much one of these

things costs?

(pause)

Monday’s a holiday, so we can spend

the three-day weekend in my garage.

(pause)

What do you say?

MacMillan stands. Opens the box, revealing a brand new IBM

PC. A small smile appears on his face, perhaps for the first

time.

MACMILLAN:

This isn’t just about Cardiff.

We’ll wake a sleeping giant at IBM.

They’ll come at us with everything

they have.

Clark nods. Then looks back up at MacMillan.

CLARK:

Let’s turn this thing inside out.

END ACT III:

36.

ACT IV:

INT. CLARK’S GARAGE -- NIGHT

MacMillan and Clark, still in their work clothes, stand over

the IBM PC, removed from its packaging and vulnerable under

the light. MacMillan works a screwdriver on its sides...

SLIDES OFF THE METAL BOX, REVEALING ITS INSIDES

MACMILLAN:

From here, you’re in the driver’s

seat.

CLARK:

A personal computer--like any

computer, really--is just a nothing

box full of electronic switches;

hardware. The IBM, Apple II, the

Altair, it’s all the same junk.

MACMILLAN:

Get to the good part.

BEGIN MONTAGE -- REVERSE ENGINEERING

Clark and MacMillan slave over the machine, pulling it apart,

examining it...

-- Clark carefully unscrews circuit boards and slides them

out of the PC, laying them next to each other.

CLARK (V.O.)

You can buy all this stuff off the

shelf right now. That’s how IBM

built this thing so fast.

MACMILLAN (V.O.)

I said the good part, not the part

I already know.

-- Clark carefully pries a black rectangular chip the size of

half a match book off one of the circuit boards.

CLARK (V.O.)

Well, if you’re so smart, tell me

what connects the hardware to the

software?

MACMILLAN (V.O.)

The chip.

-- Clark holds up “the chip” under the light.

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