Pi Page #10

SOL:

No, Max, it's only a

nasty bug.

SOL:

A door in front of a cliff.

You're driving yourself over

the edge. You need to stop.

MAX:

Stop? How can I stop? I'm

this close.

SOL:

The bug doesn't only

destroy computers.

MAX:

What are you saying?

SOL:

Look what it did to your

computer. Look what it's doing

to you.

Max doesn't respond.

SOL:

It's killing you. Leave it

unknown.

MAX:

(Clarity)

You were afraid of

it. That's why you quit.

SOL:

Max, I got burnt.

MAX:

C'mon, Sol.

SOL:

It caused my stroke.

MAX:

That's bullshit. It's

math, numbers, ideas.

Mathematicians are suppose to

be out on the edge. You

taught me that!

SOL:

Max, there's more than

math! There's a whole world...

MAX:

That's where discoveries

happen. We have to go out

there alone, all alone, no

one can accompany us. We have

to search the edge. We have

to risk it all. But you ran

from it. You're a coward.

SOL:

Max, it's death!

Max stands up and screams down at Sol.

MAX:

You can't tell me what it

is. You don't know You've

retreated to your goldfish,

to your books, to your Go,

but you're not satisfied.

Sol grabs his cane and whacks the Go board.

SOL:

Get out! Max, get out!

MAX:

I want to understand it.

I want to know!

Sol swings his cane as Max heads for the door.

SOL:

Out!

INT. SUBWAY - PORT AUTHORITY - NIGHT

Max paces on a downtown train as it pulls into 42nd Street.

Through the open doors, Max notices a YOUNG PHOTOGRAPHER in

jeans and a leather jacket photographing him from the uptown

platform.

Max is enraged and screams at him. The man ducks behind a

column, but a few moments later he's back snapping pictures.

The doors start to shut, but Max uses his body to get

off the train.

The Photographer sees him coming and flees.

Max follows the man's movement on his platform. When the young

man shoots up the exit stairs, Max does so as well.

Max catches a glimpse of his foe entering the catacombs

heading toward Times Square. Max pursues.

Max chases him down a looooong passage.

But he loses him at an underground five-way fork in the road.

One staircase is Uptown and Queens...

another is Brooklyn...one other is unlabeled.

Still enraged, Max marches forward Just then, he catches a

glimpse of the Photographer exiting the station.

SMASH TO:

EXT. TIMES SQUARE - NEON NIGHT

In the heart of New York, Max spins around searching for his

foe.

His frustration mounts until out of the comer of his eye he

sees a strange reflection. Not knowing what it's of, he turns

around to see the source The reflection is from a giant,

brilliant stock ticker - 50 yards long and luminous.

Max stares at the quotes They are hypnotizing and Max is

suddenly calm.

Then, Max has a premonition. He turns and spots the

Photographer in front of a porn shop on Eighth and 42nd.

EXT. PORN SHOP - 42ND STREET - NIGHT

Max whacks the Photographer against a back-lit image of a

Hustler Centerfold. The man screams.

MAX:

Who are you working for?

PHOTOGRAPHER:

Here, here.

The photographer hands Max his wallet.

MAX:

I don't want your wallet. Who sent you?

Max grabs the kid's camera.

MAX:

Who the hell sent you!?

PHOTOGRAPHER:

Wha...I'm sorry...

MAX:

Who are you?!

PHOTOGRAPHER:

I'm...a...student I've got

an assignment for class.

The Photographer pulls out his student ID. Max looks at it.

Then he rips out the film-exposing it.

MAX:

Leave me alone, damn it.

Leave me alone.

Max hands the man back his camera and leaves.

EXT. MAX'S APARTMENT - NIGHT

Max heads home in a furious state. Suddenly, he sees two of

Marcy's men blocking his path. It's Brad and Jake, yet another

tough guy, and they don't look happy. Max spins around and

sees Marcy Dawson blocking his exit.

MAX:

Marcy? What's up?

Max retreats.

MARCY DAWSON:

Let's take a ride, Max.

MAX:

I can't, I got work...

Max looks back at the tough guys who are almost on top of him.

MARCY DAWSON:

We had a deal! NOW get in the limo!

Marcy releases a vicious slap that nearly knocks Max down. Max

whimpers.

MAX:

Don't ever hit...

He pushes Marcy aside and darts.

EXT. CITY STREETS - NIGHT

Max flees. Jake and Brad charge after him. They're right on

him - he has a meter or so on them.

He scurries through a construction site and over a footbridge.

Then, he runs into an all-night

BODEGA:

The tough guys chase after him and he gets a bit of a

lead in the narrow aisles. He pleads with the owners for

help - nothing doing.

Jake heads him off and uses his body to block the aisle. But

Max grabs a can of beans and slams it down on the tough guy's

nose. The guy goes down and Max shoots out the exit.

EXT. UNDERNEATH CAR - NIGHT

Max dives under a car and crawls for terror. He sees two sets

of feet nun by. Max starts to relax when he notices a pair of

heels on the other side of the car. Marcy bends down and looks

at him.

MARCY DAWSON:

Enough, Max, c'mon out.

MAX:

Leave me alone. I don't

know anything.

Max retreats in the opposite direction. Suddenly Jake and Brad

grab him and drag him out.

MAX:

Hey! Hey! Hey!

They search him, taking his wallet, keys, everything.

Marcy looks at the guys, who shake their heads. She walks over

to Max and shows Max the front page of the Wall Street

Journal. It reads, "MARKET CRACHES"

MARCY DAWSON:

You're responsible for this.

MAX:

I didn't do anything. I

didn't play the market.

MARCY DAWSON:

But we did.

Marcy pulls out a folded, worn piece of paper. She opens it.

It's Max's stock pick that he threw out. Part of THE number is

on the page

MARCY DAWSON:

You have to be careful

where you throw out your trash.

MAX:

How could you do that?

MARCY DAWSON:

You gave us faulty information.

You gave us the carrot, the right

picks, but then you only gave us

part of the code.

MAX:

You selfish, irresponsible

cretins. How could you be so

stupid!?

Marcy jabs Max in his stomach. Max falls to the ground. The

tough guys sit on him.

MARCY DAWSON:

C'mon, Max. This isn't a

game anymore. We're playing

on a global scale. We used

your code. Foolish...I admit.

But we can fix things if we

make some careful picks. Give

us the rest of the code so

we can set things right.

MAX:

C'mon! I know who you are.

You're not gonna save the world.

MARCY DAWSON:

Look, Max...

Marcy nods to Jake, who pulls out a gun and points it at Max's

head.

MAX:

My God, what are you doing?

MARCY DAWSON:

Information is

the private language

of Capital. We tried to

establish a symbiotic

relationship but if

you choose to compete and

enter our niche we are forced

to comply with the laws of

nature.

Max thinks for a second. Max thinks hard. He realizes be

can't give them the number.

MAX:

You can't kill me!

MARCY DAWSON:

C'mon, Max. You

don't get it. I don't

give a sh*t about you. I only

care about what's in your

f***ing head. If you won't help

us help yourself, then I'll

have only one choice. Destroy the

competition. I'll take you

out of the game. Survival of the

fittest, Max. And we've got

the gun.

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