Halt and Catch Fire Page #8

my life and start rearranging sh*t.

You might be some hot shot swinging

dick without a care in the world

but I got a family, man.

(pause)

I got a family.

Clark walks away. MacMillan wipes blood from the corner of

his mouth. Then:

MACMILLAN:

(calling after)

Just tell me one thing.

Clark stops, turns around. Waits.

MACMILLAN (CONT’D)

When we were working in that

garage. Where you work like you

used to work, I mean really work.

Tell me that didn’t feel good. Tell

me that didn’t wake something up

inside you that’s been dormant for

a long time.

CLARK:

Look. I see the future. I’ve been

seeing it since 1975. And as weird

as you are, I can tell you see it,

too. All right? I’m not a betting

man, but I’d put money on where I

think things are going. Do you know

how hard that is? To wake up every

morning and know in your gut? And

watch everyone around you walk off

a cliff? Watch yourself walk off

it, too?

(pause)

We can’t make them see it. You

can’t make someone see it.

MACMILLAN:

I believe you can.

44.

Clark just shakes his head. Walks away.

CUT TO:

INT. MACMILLAN’S QUATTRO -- MOMENTS LATER

MacMillan SLAMS his door closed. Sits in silence in the car.

ANGLE ON the rearview mirror. Joe catches his own eyes. Can’t

look away.

CUT TO:

INT. CLARK’S GARAGE -- NIGHT

Clark sits at his makeshift workstation, looking off into the

distance. His eyes come to rest on the mess of different

computers in front of him. He picks up the Apple II...

HEAVES IT TO THE PAVEMENT AND IT SHATTERS

An ugly BLAST of plastic, circuitry, keys.

DONNA ENTERS from the side door moments later.

DONNA:

What the hell was that?

CLARK:

Nothing.

DONNA:

What’s going on, Gordon? You’re up

one minute, on five hours of sleep

a week, then you’re brooding around

the house, won’t even talk to the

children. Won’t even look me in the

eye-

CLARK:

I’m in TROUBLE, Donna.

DONNA:

(quieter)

What kind of trouble?

CLARK:

We pissed off IBM.

On her reaction. She knows it’s serious.

45.

He walks toward the door. He turns back, can barely look at

her.

CLARK (CONT’D)

We should’ve never left California.

CUT TO:

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

MacMillan faces away from his computer, looking out onto the

parking lot. A man awaiting execution.

A KNOCK draws his attention. He turns around to see...

Dale Barnes. Smug, mock-friendly, sharp where MacMillan has

begun to blur. Barnes enters, drops himself into a chair

comfortably.

BARNES:

Long time, no see, huh? You get the

flowers I sent?

No answer.

BARNES (CONT’D)

Unexpected business trip. Had to

come down here with our legal

group, put out the little firestorm

you started.

MACMILLAN:

Right.

BARNES:

I was on the phone with Applied

Data this morning. They love you,

but I told them that Cardiff Giant

might not be around much longer, so

hey, IBM would love to step in and

fulfill on their mainframe

solution.

(pause)

I know you just closed that deal,

but... you know, way of the world.

Funnily enough, they also want a PC

solution, too. All in a day’s work,

right?

MACMILLAN:

Would’ve loved to have been on the

phone. I haven’t seen you close a

deal in years.

(MORE)

46.

MACMILLAN (CONT'D)

Usually you just take credit for

whatever your guys bring in.

BARNES:

Eh, it felt good to put on my spurs

again, what can I say? I figure as

long as I’m out in this backwater,

there might be a little bit of

business to be won while we clean

up the mess.

MACMILLAN:

Sounds like you’ve got it all

figured out.

MacMillan shows no signs of cracking, letting this prick get

to him. Barnes stands up, moves to go. Stops, turns.

BARNES:

What are you trying to prove with

all this?

(pause)

IBM doesn’t lose, remember?

MacMillan grips the back of his chair, knuckles white. Dale

shrugs, leaves.

BARNES (CONT’D)

(on his way out)

Drive safe.

CUT TO:

END ACT IV:

47.

ACT V:

INT. MEN’S BATHROOM -- DAY

Office bathroom at Cardiff.

ANGLE ON Clark puking his guts out into one of the toilets.

MacMillan stands behind him, shaken. Uneasy.

MACMILLAN:

They’re ready for us.

CLARK:

There is no ‘us.’

Clark wipes his mouth, brusquely brushes past MacMillan to

the door.

CUT TO:

INT. SENIOR VICE PRESIDENT’S OFFICE -- MORNING

Bosworth, Cardiff. Fresh clothes but weary. MacMillan, Clark

sit in their respective chairs.

They’re joined by lawyer BARRY SHIELDS (50) — good suit, if a

bit small. The man himself is small, balding, worried. He

carries Clark and MacMillan’s report.

CARDIFF:

An’ why the hell can’t we just fire

these pecker heads?

SHIELDS:

Because then we’re gonna lose this

lawsuit. If you fire them and

shelve their work, we’re

essentially admitting guilt.

(pause)

We do that, we tell IBM ‘You’re

right, we’re wrong.’ But the damage

is already done. We’ve got the

entire IBM ROM BIOS layout on 150

pages of Cardiff Giant letterhead.

BOSWORTH:

So what’s the solution, Barry?

Barry takes off his glasses, rubs the bridge of his nose.

SHIELDS:

We legitimize the project. We go

the other way.

(MORE)

48.

SHIELDS (CONT'D)

We say that Cardiff Giant, as a

company, was pursuing PC

development all along.

CARDIFF:

I sure as hell don’t see how that

clears away the hornet’s nest.

SHIELDS:

We take Clark’s findings on the

BIOS chip. The performance, the

system map, all of it. We hand over

the report to an engineer and tell

them to build something that

operates and performs in the exact

same way. We don’t tell them how to

do it, and we certainly don’t tell

them we learned how by pulling

apart an IBM machine and looking

inside with a flashlight, but--

BOSWORTH:

I don’t think we have one engineer

capable of building a BIOS from

scratch other than

(pointing to Clark)

Sonny Bono over here.

SHIELDS:

We can’t use him. Or any other

engineer we currently employ.

BOSWORTH:

So we have to hire.

SHIELDS:

Yes. Someone who knows nothing

about us or IBM, and has never seen

the contents of this binder. At

this point, we’re all dirty and

have to walk away. Especially these

two. They’ve got to be as far away

from this as humanly possible, and

this report has to go in a locked

drawer until the end of time.

BOSWORTH:

But we can’t fire them.

SHIELDS:

No. At least not right now.

49.

BOSWORTH:

We get out of this by actually

building a PC clone.

SHIELDS:

As Cardiff Giant.

CARDIFF:

So we basically have to open a

whole new line of business.

SHIELDS:

To legally be in the clear, yes.

BOSWORTH:

This is your brilliant idea to save

our hides?

SHIELDS:

No, actually... it was MacMillan’s.

Again, all eyes on Joe MacMillan. Calmly sitting there.

BOSWORTH:

You son of a b*tch.

Cardiff stands, approaches MacMillan. Eyeballs him with a

West Texas stare for a moment.

CARDIFF:

You know how many futures you’re

toyin’ with, son?

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