Arcade

INT. ARCADE WORLD -- ELECTRONIC DARKNESS

We don't know if it's night or day. It's just black.

And maybe...maybe intermittent SPARKS racing by. So quick we barely

perceive them. Like the sparks you imagine when your eyes are closed.

BREATHING,

slow and hollow, filling up the entire world. It's eerie as hell. A

feeling of utter loneliness.

And now the breathing recedes, fading into the darkness. Whatever it

was...it's gone now.

MAIN CREDITS ROLL.

We hear CELLOS. Four of them. Weaving an intricate melody.

And now the visuals. BRIGHTLY COLORED SHAPES spinning in. Equally

intricate, matching the music. They grow and flourish, like flowers

opening up in time lapse photography.

FRACTALS...

is what they're called. The visual manifestation of geometric formulas.

The Mandelbrot Set. The Julia Set. Each mathematic form made up of

progressively smaller forms and on into infinity.

Glorious and beautiful. Forms folding in upon themselves and

regenerating.

This is creation we're witnessing.

This is life in the making.

DISSOLVE TO:

INT. COUNSELOR'S OFFICE -- DAY

AN EYE:

For a brief moment we still hear the CELLOS. And in the eye, the last of

the fractals are spinning away, leaving us with the iris. A nice blue

one. This is ALEX MANNING'S eye.

ALEX (V.O.)

Time. That's all I ever think about

anymore. It's like there's never enough of

it, you know?

CUT TO:

INT. MANNING HOUSE, HALLWAY -- DAY

This is a flashback, in case you're wondering. We'll continue to hear

Alex's VOICE as we move through the house in slow motion. Everything is

very bright and dreamlike.

Right now we're moving with the camera, slowly moving down a long hallway.

At the end of the hallway is an open door.

We stop at the doorway. We're afraid to go in.

ALEX (V.O.)

It's strange. When the future's in front

of you, it seems to go on forever. I mean,

you never really get there. It's always

one step ahead of you. It's like there's

no present. There's no "now". As soon as

you think, "I'm here", the moment's already

gone. Either everything's in the future,

or it's in the past.

(beat)

There's no "now".

MAN (V.O.)

So where are you then?

ALEX (V.O.)

I'm in the past.

We move through the doorway.

INT. MANNING HOUSE, BEDROOM -- DAY

Everything looks normal at first. A typical bedroom with sunlight

streaming in through the windows. A bed, made-up. Flowers in vases.

Everything looks perfect.

Then we move further in, and over to the right. There's something on the

floor, curled up in the entranceway to the bathroom. Halfway in, halfway

out.

It's a woman's body. She's wearing a dress, her legs awkwardly bent. We

can't see her face from this angle. But in her limp hand is a gun. And

all around that hand, speckling the pristine white tile of the bathroom

and the carpeting beyond, is BLOOD.

A shrill BELL shatters the moment.

CUT TO:

INT. COUNSELOR'S OFFICE -- DAY

The bell continues. It's a school bell signaling the end of the period.

ON ALEX:

as we see her for the first time, startled. She's seventeen and pretty,

though in a simple way. Her eyes are the most striking. Deep. Intense.

If Alex has a problem, it's the fact that she thinks too much, and it's

reflected in her eyes.

Across from her is MR. WEAVER, a high-school guidance counselor and that

was his voice we heard with Alex's. He's unexceptional, middle-aged,

incapable of really hearing what Alex has to say. This is his office

we're in. Typical "SAY NO TO DRUGS" teen propaganda decorate the room.

Fun.

As the BELL dies we hear the army of FOOTSTEPS outside, students milling

in the halls.

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