Kafka Page #15

GAUNT MAN:

Let me out -- I'm all right -- they

haven't treated me yet! We can go

together!

But now the evil Mr. Pick appears at the end of the passage

from which Kafka came -- a gun in his hand.

MR. PICK

You!

Kafka yanks the lever and runs away. Mr. Pick FIRES after

him, starting to chase -- but the prisoners are coming out of

their cells -- coming for him.

CUT:

SPIRAL STONE STAIRWELL

Kafka runs upwards, around and around and around.

ANOTHER FLOOR:

Here is a part of the Castle Kafka can understand -- office

workers toiling away. Kafka walks past one long row of them,

SCRIBES sitting at a single endless desk. They look like

students under examination, hunched over their writing, a

virtual conveyor belt of paperwork.

In the center of this floor is an actual conveyor -- a chain

pulley running slowly up and down, presumably throughout the

entire Castle, through small holes in the floor and ceiling.

There are little pockets on the chain which the clerks

continually pluck papers out of and slip papers into.

The ink bottle of one of the scribes runs dry. He takes it

over to a sink with three taps -- Hot, Cold -- and the third

one he turns -- Ink.

CUT:

CORRIDOR:

Kafka passes a FRIENDLY CLERK.

FRIENDLY CLERK:

Are you lost?

Kafka nearly laughs at the enormity of the question.

KAFKA:

I'm, uh, looking for the

Medical Records Section.

Pause.

FRIENDLY CLERK:

Oh, you're miles away. From here

you'll want to go left, left again,

right, right again, left then right,

right then left, and take the Blue

Staircase.

KAFKA:

Thank you.

FRIENDLY CLERK:

(going on his way)

-- I haven't seen you here before.

KAFKA:

No ...

KAFKA:

He stands there, a man in a suit with a briefcase in an

antiseptic corridor.

KAFKA:

... I'm new.

CUT:

UNDERGROUND CELLS

Mr. Pick leans against a door, trying to keep back the

howling horde of prisoners pushing from the other side.

Another JAILER joins him, helping him to try and push the

door closed. Then a SECOND JAILER too. A bestial hand

reaches through and Mr. Pick presses his pistol muzzle into

the outstretched palm --

BANG!

-- A book falls to the floor like a pistol-shot -- and

Kafka hides back in shadows hoping no one heard. He's in a

round --

LIBRARY:

-- Surrounded by books from floor to ceiling, even on the

tall door through which he entered. A sliver of light gives

it away -- and on the other side of it he hears FOOTSTEPS.

But they pass by.

There's another sliver of light indicating another door in

the books opposite him. He walks over and pulls on the

shelves. Here the dark wood is merely a disguising cover for

the shiny modern steel he discovers on the other side of it

And he finds more than that as he enters --

THE LABORATORY:

A real mad scientist's workshop. Chemicals of bizarre colors

rush and FIZZ through mazes of glass pipes and beakers, in

some places boiling and steaming, in others frosting or

freezing. Circuits and test tubes flash and glow as sparks

and filamentary arcs CRACKLE with electric incandescence.

insane instruments and devices, interconnected with complex

wires, perform strange and villainous functions. It's the

most modern setting we've yet seen -- but at the same time

all this futuristic technology seems somehow archaic, as if

put together from old, familiar materials and elements, both

eccentric and eclectic.

The chain that runs through the floors of the Castle carrying

documents runs up and down through the laboratory too.

Amidst this feast for the eyes, what Kafka now focuses in on

a simple cigarette -- left smoking in an ashtray. And by

the look of the ash, not very long ago. Kafka looks around

anxiously -- notices an archway leading to another room.

CUT:

UNDERGROUND CRYPT

Mr Pick and the two Jailers can't hold back the dreadful

prisoners any longer. Mr. Pick runs, letting the Jailers

fend for themselves.

CUT:

LABORATORY - SMALLER ROOM

Kafka comes into what looks like a small museum -- vertical

glass cases in which naked BODIES float suspended in

preserving gelatin solution.

Kafka seems deadened himself by all that he's seeing -- until

he sees someone he recognizes. The Bearded Anarchist. Kafka

goes closer. Looking down, he sees that the Bearded

Anarchist has a hand missing. The other anarchists are here

in glass cases too. Now with a gasp Kafka turns around --

looking for Gabriela -- but she's not here.

CUT:

MAIN LAB:

Holding himself together, and with new determination etched

on his face, Kafka walks to the center of the lab -- and an

operating table. Ignoring the implications of the table, he

sets down the bomb-briefcase -- flicking the latches to open

it.

The sight of the explosive mechanism inside causes him a

moment's hesitation, but a look round at various animal parts

hanging from hooks above the table or bobbing in jars

alongside sinister implements laid out in preparation for an

operation renews his anger -- and he decisively turns the

dial on the bomb's timer-clock, setting it to the maximum

allowance of one hour.

He closes the case and locks its latches. The case begins to

TICK.

Kafka takes it to a dark spot beneath the mass of elaborate

laboratory equipment, hides it under there, and leaves.

CUT:

CORRIDOR:

Kafka tries finding his way back the way he came.

END OF CORRIDOR:

Kafka looks down a long dark staircase -- a hint of light

glowing at the bottom.

BOTTOM OF STAIRCASE

Just as he reaches the light something lunges at him from one

side! It's the Laughing Man, hysterical as ever, face now

SEEN for the first time, SCREECHING, salivating, eyes

watering. The human hyena. His grin contorts his face from

ear to ear, his CACKLING is truly terrifying, and the hand he

stretches forward has a tattoo on it (Bearded Anarchist's

hand) -- a hand too big for his wrist -- reaching, reaching,

reaching for Kafka.

CUT:

DARK OFFICE - NIGHT

The Laughing Man pushes Kafka down into a chair and shakes

with uncontrollable sobbing shrieks.

Someone else is sitting in darkness behind a huge desk

(MURNAU). His hand holds out a small vial. The Laughing Man

grabs it and leaves, gulping down its contents voraciously.

MURNAU:

I assume you're wondering ... what

all this has been about.

Kafka tries to see into the shadows.

KAFKA:

Are you the Head of Medical

Records?

The door behind Kafka opens again and an officious bureaucrat

(EKMAN) comes in. He sits in a chair and looks at Kafka.

MURNAU:

(to Ekman)

He's come on his own initiative.

(to Kafka)

-- Not something we encourage, mind

you, but we like to know it exists.

And he's stood up.

MURNAU:

What it amounts to is simply this ...

He's coming around the desk. He's drying his hands on a

towel.

MURNAU:

A piece of paper was delivered to

the wrong clerk. It was essential

he bring it back to us. These

complications have arisen because he

had friends -- like you, among

others -- friends unlikely to let a

sleeping dog lie.

He tosses the towel onto the desk. Ekman looks irritated by

this.

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