Sphere Page #2

NORMAN:

Really?

As they march down a hallway, Norman looks down at his wrinkled suit,

tries to smooth it out.

OFFICER:

By the way sir, I've read your

report. I think it's brilliant.

NORMAN:

What report?

OFFICER:

You mean they haven't told you yet?

NORMAN:

Told me what?

She staightens up, like she might have said too much.

OFFICER:

This way, sir.

INT. BARNES' OFFICE

CAPTAIN HAROLD BARNES, 60s, immaculate, proud of who he is, talks on

the phone.

BARNES:

How's he look?... Well, we can't all

be officers, can we?

(laughs)

They tell me he's brilliant.

EXT. BARNES' OFFICE

Norman stands in front of the door. The doorplate reads: PROJECT

COMMANDER - CAPTAIN HAROLD BARNES. Norman straightens his big-knotted

tie. Deep breath.

INT. BARNES' OFFICE

As the door opens, Barnes is putting down the phone, rises from his

desk, as Norman steps inside.

BARNES:

Dr. Norman Johnson. Welcome aboard.

They shake hands.

NORMAN:

Thank you, Colonel.

BARNES:

Captain.

NORMAN:

Captain. Right, forgive me.

Barnes looks at Norman, sizing him up. An akward silence.

NORMAN:

Well, thanks for the opportuninty

here -- my wife appreciates it.

BARNES:

Don't thank me, Dr. Johnson. You

weren't my choice. The Pentagon made

me take you.

NORMAN:

(smiling)

The Pentagon? I didn't know I had

friends in Washington.

Norman tries to laugh as Barnes ushers him to the door...

BARNES:

Come with me. The team's already

waiting.

NORMAN:

What team?

INT. HALLWAY

Barnes leads Norman down the corridor, lined with OFFICERS and GUARDS.

BARNES:

What have you been told so far?

NORMAN:

The usual. Plane crash. Survivers

unknown. Routine stuff really.

BARNES:

Anything else?

NORMAN:

Nothing else.

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