Death Race 2050 Page #2

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(CROWD CHEERING) This is the

first self-driving car,

programmed to follow

the complex rules of the race.

An artificial

intelligence dubbed "Abe."

Ah!

Oh, my, my!

Will you look at that!

(CROWD CHEERING)

That's technology.

You know,

it's technology like this

that has

liberated 99% of Americans

from the outdated

burden of employment.

This is the machine's creator

and B-B-BFF of mine,

Dr. Von Creamer.

Tell me, Doctor, does Abe have

any predictions for the race?

ABE:
Looks like rain today and

enslavement by machines tomorrow.

(MUSIC PLAYING)

(CAR APPROACHING)

Ready for one last dance?

Wait, wait, stop!

Stop right there,

that's perfect!

(LAUGHS) Talking to the car,

that's great.

Give me a second

to power-up my visor

and we'll just

record this whole scene.

I'm Annie Sullivan,

your proxy.

It's nice to finally

meet you in the,uh,

flesh.

Wait,

I'm still not transmitting.

Give me a second

before you start the engine.

(BEEPING, POWERING UP)

What ya doing?

You're adjusting

the air intake.

No, trying to find

a good jazz station.

If the UCA says I need a

passenger to wear a visor,

they should have

sent me a chimp.

Less distraction

and less weight.

(CHUCKLES) Look, I'm sorry

if I'm a little lost here,

but what do you

expect if you refuse

to meet until

10 minutes before we race?

Cheerleaders don't

come to practice.

See, we should

be recording this.

Vintage macho-bullshit

is ratings gold.

I don't care about your

broadcast, Miss Sullivan.

I don't care about

the money or the fans,

and I definitely

don't care about you.

I know you've

won a lot of races,

and I hope for both our sakes that

age hasn't diminished your skills.

But this is a prince of

an opportunity for me,

and I have blown my

share of frogs to get it.

So, show me some professional

courtesy and smile for the camera.

That way, we both win.

(ENGINE STARTING)

What is this?

It's my gear bag.

(OBJECTS CLATTERING)

(OBJECTS CLATTERING)

(EXHALES DEEPLY)

(ENGINE REVVING)

(BEEPS)

Holy Chairman's hair!

Frankenstein!

Oh, my God! Frankenstein!

(CROWD CHEERING) Here he

comes, ladies and gentlemen.

Battered and bruised,

slashed and gashed,

ripped up, tripped up, turned

around, but never torn down.

Made from the part bin

and hungry for one more win!

Part man,

part machine, all legend.

The one,

the only, Frankenstein!

(CHEERING)

They really love you.

You could've died a champion,

but now you'll have to taste

defeat at the hands of perfection.

You'll pay for that, boy.

Citizens,

you know who I am,

The Chairman of the United

Corporations of America.

(CROWD CHEERING)

I love you. (KISSES)

Europe, Asia, cancer,

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