Predestination Page #4

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Were there any clues?

Any description?

Just a man.

With a face-shaped face.

Like yours or mine.

No! No!

Could have been the baby's father.

The nurse swore it was an older man

but who else would swipe my baby?

What'd you do?

Filed a missing person's report.

Checked adoption agencies,

orphanages. You name it, I did it.

But nothing.

It's like she vanished.

And they never found the guy?

Never.

But then my other little problem

began to take center stage.

Jane, I want you to count

backwards from 10 for me.

Ten, nine, eight,

seven, six, five, four...

I spent 11 months in that f***ed-up place

and had three major operations.

I started taking testosterone,

which deepened my voice a little bit

but not enough.

So I started practicing talking like a man.

Hi.

Hi.

Hi.

Hey.

Hi, nice to meet you.

Hi, nice to meet you.

Nice to meet you. It's a lovely day.

Hi, nice to meet you.

It's a lovely day.

I never could get it right, though.

Hi.

My name is Jane.

My name is Jane.

Hi, it's nice to meet you.

My name is Jane.

My name is...

I was always afraid to look in the mirror

and see the person looking back at me.

I held off as long as I could.

Now, it didn't matter anymore.

The person I knew was truly gone.

Strange.

Every time I looked at my new appearance

I was reminded

of that bastard that ruined my life.

That's some messed up irony I guess.

The funny thing was

the nurses,

they thought I was quite handsome.

Yeah, a f***ing catch.

Right, right, right.

I guess I also knew

what women wanted to hear.

Compliments, right?

Right.

Well,

it seems to me you came out okay.

Came out okay?

Well, you know, I just mean

you just seem like a,

you know, a normal man.

Yeah.

More normal than ever now.

How so? What's that mean?

Well, I just found out this morning that

I'm not shooting blanks anymore.

Well, all right.

Doctor's prognosis,

I'm a fully fertile male specimen.

Well, let me be the first

to congratulate you.

Welcome to the tribe.

You know, sometimes

I think this world deserves

the sh*t storm that it gets.

I know.

I mean, let's face it. Nobody's innocent.

Everybody just uses everybody else

to get what they want.

Maybe.

Maybe not.

You ever hear the expression

"a ruined woman"?

Of course.

Well, I was as ruined as a woman could be.

I was no longer a woman

and I did not know how to be a man.

Well, it does take some getting used to.

You have no idea.

I don't mean learning how to dress or talk.

Or not walking into the wrong bathroom.

You know, how could I live?

What job could I get?

I didn't know a trade.

Couldn't drive a car.

I hate that bastard for

ripping out my heart

and ruining my life.

He deserves to die.

So I thought I'd reenlist in Space Corp.

This time to become an astronaut.

It was ridiculous, I know.

They had my records. I couldn't lie.

One look at me

and I was marked unfit for basic training.

I think the doctor spent time

on me just from curiosity.

He'd read about my case.

I was desperate.

I was looking for a way back in.

You know, I've been called

a freak my whole life.

Now I really was.

Just a lab rat to be experimented on.

I'm so sorry.

- Yeah, right.

- I am.

I've had a lot of people tell me

how sorry they are for what happened to me.

I don't want to hear it anymore.

Then what do you want?

What does anyone want?

Love.

F*** love.

A purpose.

A purpose?

You don't have that?

I'm working on it.

Why can't love be a purpose?

Hippy bullshit.

It's easier to hate than to love, right?

Yeah.

It's easier to destroy something.

Kill somebody.

You think you could do that?

Maybe.

I see it in your eyes, too.

That bitterness.

It can take over.

It can.

Well, you know if you don't move forward

you fall backwards into a river of sh*t.

So

anyway, rather than getting angry

and pissing away my entire future

I knew I just had to get on with my life.

So

I changed my name

and came to New York.

I got by as a fry cook

but the hours were long

and the money was horseshit.

So I bought a typewriter

and set myself up as a public stenographer.

What a laugh.

In four months I typed six letters

and one manuscript.

The manuscript was for Real Life Tales

and a total waste of paper.

But the jerk who wrote it, sold it.

Which gave me an idea.

I bought a stack of confession magazines

and studied them.

The words came easy.

The Unmarried Mother was born.

So, now you know how I get

the authentic woman's angle

on an Unmarried Mother story.

Through the only version I haven't sold.

The true one.

So, do I win the bottle?

Not bad.

Not bad.

So, is that it? Story's over?

Yeah, afraid so.

The man that ruined my life is a ghost

and so is my daughter.

I guess at some point you just

gotta let things go.

And have you?

F*** no.

What if I could put him in front of you?

The man that ruined your life.

And if I could guarantee you

that you'd get away with it.

Would you kill him?

In a heartbeat.

I know where he is.

Yeah, of course you do.

No bullshit.

And how the hell do you know that?

There are records.

Hospital records, orphanage records,

medical records...

Been there, done that.

Beth Fetherage.

Wasn't that the name of your caretaker

at the orphanage?

Beth?

You son of a b*tch.

Have you been following me?

Son of a b*tch. That's funny.

No.

Your name, as a woman, was Jane, right?

You told me that. You didn't tell me

your name as a man.

John. Which is not terribly original,

by the way.

What are you, a cop or something?

I can put this guy in your lap.

You can do whatever you want

and I guarantee you

you'll get away with it.

All right, where is he?

I do something for you

and you do something for me.

F*** you.

Okay, well,

enjoy your prize.

What do I have to do?

You like your job?

Hell, no.

Nobody's ever given you a break, right?

Did you listen to my story?

Yeah, and you excelled during your

service training.

Excelled.

You have skills you've never had

the chance to use

and I can give you that chance.

Let me put it this way.

I hand him to you, you

do whatever you like.

And when you're done, you try my job.

You don't like it, you walk away.

You're not talking about

bartending are you?

I'm not talking about bartending.

What is it?

I'll show you.

No. F*** that, no.

Stop playing games. Just tell me right now.

Look, Robertson explains it so much better

than I do.

Don't mess with me.

What, you're working with Robertson?

Yes, I am, and he wants me to help you.

You're part of Robertson's

little secret society?

Yes.

Tell me what it's all about then.

First things first.

Jerry! I'm going on a break.

Oh, f***.

Where is he?

What, is he down there?

Listen, you're just going to

have to trust me, all right?

Now I must be drunk.

You better not be f***ing with me.

You think I might be the Fizzle Bomber?

Maybe.

What if you're the Fizzle Bomber?

What if I am?

Well, come on.

This is what you wanted, right?

Come on.

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