The Zero Theorem Page #4

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Excuse me,

couldn't help noticing this young

lady's pathological attempts

to project upon you her unresolved

issues of paternal abandonment.

Given the significant age difference

between the two of you...

Nosy b*tch.

My daddy didn't abandon me.

He died.

In case you're getting

the wrong idea,

I should tell you that I

don't do sexual intercourse.

I don't care if a guy wraps

himself up like a latex mummy.

- But...

- But nothing is going inside me.

Way too dangerous.

I'm into tantric,

bio-telemetric interfacing now.

It's smart and safe.

And, God, it just

feel so super tingly.

Got anything to eat around here?

I'm starving my ass off.

()

Ah. What a mess.

(FLIES BUZZING)

- You're staring at me again.

- Forgive us.

Well, I don't mind.

Just noticing, that's all.

You're a pretty intense guy.

So here you are, Qohen,

locked up all alone

and waiting for...

For what? For a phone call?

So tell me, what's

that all about? Hmm?

No, we've grown weary

explaining ourselves.

But how am I supposed to help

if you don't tell me? Hmm?

Please.

Please.

So come on.

How did it all start?

We're not quite certain.

We must confess that

for good or ill,

that we always wanted

to feel different,

unique.

Objective analysis, however, concluded

that we're as inconsequential

as anyone else.

We are but one in many

single worker bee

in a vast swarm

subject to the same imperatives

as billions of others.

We dulled our discontent

in alcohol, drugs, sex.

And then it happened.

One night...

()

oh, a long time ago,

we were awakened by

the phone ringing.

We picked it up.

A voice on the other end said:

"Qohen Leth."

(SNORTS)

But before we could respond,

we felt this great

yawning maul of power

opening through the phone line.

We felt a sudden rush of joy unlike

anything we've ever felt before.

Then we knew quite clearly that

we only had to answer "yes"

and the voice would tell us

the meaning of our life.

The voice would tell us

our special calling.

The voice would give

us a reason for being.

(BREATH ES DEEPLY)

And then?

And then...

in our excitement,

we dropped the receiver,

disconnecting ourselves.

You've been waiting for

a call-back ever since?

What other reason is there

to pick up the phone?

Well, communication for one.

It's mostly unnecessary.

But that's what we're doing now.

In a manner of speaking.

So all this time, you've been

waiting for a mysterious voice

to tell you what to

do with your life.

Wow. Probably just a

cold call anyway.

If you hadn't dropped the phone,

you'd own a time share in Majorca.

Big deal. Heh.

Do you really believe

everything you've just told me?

Yes.

Okay.

Okay.

I can help you.

But don't go away.

And I'll be back in a

tail shake, all right?

()

(INTERCOM BUZZING)

- Bainsley?

- BOB:
Bob, buzz me in.

- Bob who?

- Bob, I have to take a wicked pee.

Buzz me in, Scotty.

Our name isn't Scotty.

I know that, Bob.

- Our name isn't Bob.

- Come on.

I'm doing the tinkle dance here.

(INTERCOM BUZZING)

(URGENT KNOCKING ON DOOR)

()

Where's your bathroom?

Where's your bathroom?

It's here.

(BOB URINATING AND YELLING)

How did you get in?

BOB:
F***ing magic.

Excuse my French.

Holy sh*t, man, I think I did some

renal damage holding it in that long.

Slim got stuck in traffic.

SLIM:
Chubs drove, Bob.

Fast as I could.

- SLIM:
Sign here.

- What?

A receipt of delivery.

- We're delivering...

- Bob. Assigned to help you. Sign.

Brilliant. We'll pick him

up in exactly four hours.

- Don't lose him.

- Don't lose him.

I wouldn't mess with the

clones if I were you.

They look harmless, but they'd

just as soon flame you to death.

This is a... This is a

creepy place you got here.

Are you okay?

Actually, we're dying.

For me to be with, I mean.

You're a scary looking guy, Bob.

Would you please

stop calling us Bob?

- What do you want me to call you?

- Mr. Leth.

Leth? No, no, it's too wormy.

Qohen, then. Q, no U, O-H-E-N.

Gotta buy another vowel.

- Q.

- Or Q.

Yeah, Q will do.

Q is you.

Happy now?

Why are you here?

Old man assigned me to get

you up and running again.

- The old man?

- The boss.

The Darth Vader of microprocessing.

The guy I call Daddy Dearest,

also known as Management.

- You're Management's son?

- The one and only.

Heir to his dark throne, stuck

working this summer job.

Order us a pizza.

I missed breakfast

and this is gonna take a while.

- We have oatmeal if you chose...

- If I wanted to vomit.

Order the pie, double cheese.

F***. F***. How can

you work like this?

Oh, it's f***ing ridiculous.

F***. F***.

I can't stand people gawking at me.

Dad, Dad.

Bob's on the job.

(BEEPS FOUR TIMES)

BOB:
That's better.

Who can work...? Who can work

with him looking over your shoulder?

We have nothing to hide.

The point is moot since we're

not working for him any longer.

Yeah, right, keep

telling yourself that.

- What do you mean?

- The old man is not done with you yet.

But we're done with him.

Like those preceding

us, we have burnt out.

- We have decided to quit.

- Smart move.

- Too bad you can't.

- What do you mean? Mr. Joby...

Joby will tell you whatever

the old man wants him to.

You're a tool. The old

man uses everybody.

That yummy night nurse chick?

- Bainsley?

- Tool.

No.

She promised to help us.

We are waiting for her.

Wait all you want. She's not

gonna be back. Your call girl,

she was paid by the hour.

We don't believe you.

So, what do you think?

This thing is years ahead

of the competition.

It works on nerve

endings, of course,

but it's also synced directly

to the brain synapses.

And Joby said it was

one of your projects.

We can't imagine.

We never thought of our project

actually having any purpose.

Top secret. I'm the

cyberspace test pilot.

But first, you have to

do something for me.

Voil.

And one size fits all.

- Isn't it dangerous?

- Oh.

Depends on your idea of danger.

Just trust me.

Suit up, plug in, and click

on my website at midnight.

- You're going out like that?

- They can look, but they can't touch.

And don't be late.

I can't wait.

(MEN CATCALLING)

BOB:
So here's the deal, Q,

straight from the old man himself.

You go back to work on

this nasty Zippity-T...

- We're no longer interested.

- And in return,

I get you your call.

You? You will get us our call?

Yes, I will get you your call. You're

not the only genius around here.

I'm downloading your Shrink-Rom

files even as we speak.

- Those sessions are private.

- Sure they are.

(INTERCOM BUZZES)

Pizza! Pizza!

(KNOCKING ON DOOR)

Pizza.

Ooh.

Nice.

That's nice.

Uh... Where do I put it?

Hmm.

Not Just A Pizza.

So...

cash or charge?

Hey.

Thank you.

(MACHINE CHIRPS)

- What are you staring at?

- Uh, sorry. Sh*t. Nothing.

- Uh, um... Sorry.

- Oops. Heh-heh.

Wrong answer.

Thank you.

Hey.

Thank you.

Aaah!

Holy sh*t.

Oh, I think I got this hormonal

paradigm shift going on right now.

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