Hackers

EXT. FRONT YARD. DAY.

Slow motion. Armed troops in black uniforms pour out of

unmarked vans and swarm across a lawn in a middle class

residential neighborhood. Yuppie neighbours look on in

shock, confused. Two of the troops carry a battering ram

to the front door of a white two-storey house. A leashed

Rottweiler snarls and barks. In position, their comrades

point M-16s into first-floor windows, ready to be

ambushed. Pan into a window in the kitchen. An

attractive woman in her thirties is making breakfast.

Now, in regular motion, the battering ram breaks open the

front door. The woman, startled, drops her spatula.

INT. MURPHY RESIDENCE. DAY.

WOMAN:

(screams)

Oough! Ahhh!

SECRET SERVICE AGENT

(to others)

Upstairs.

Troops pour into the house.

WOMAN:

What's going on? What's the matter?

Who are you?

The troops, and one or two trenchcoated agents, continue

entering the house and heading upstairs, still with rifles

ready.

WOMAN:

Hey!

Upstairs, crowded in the narrow hallway, the troops

descend on a bedroom.

WOMAN:

(off camera)

Dade! Dade!

AGENT:

Knock it down.

The battering ram knocks down a bedroom door.

INT. COURTROOM.

The prosecutor, a woman of about forty, gives her closing

argument blandly. She'd rather be somewhere else.

PROSECUTOR:

The defendant, Dade Murphy, who calls

himself "Zero Cool", has repeatedly

committed criminal acts of a malicious

nature. This defendant possesses a

superior intelligence, which he uses to a

destructive and antisocial end. His

computer virus crashed one thousand five

hundred and seven computer systems,

including Wall Street trading systems,

single handedly causing a seven point drop

in the New York Stock Market.

As she speaks, the camera pans across the court, panning

down and stopping on the defendant: eleven year old Dade

Murphy.

Fast forward to the sentencing.

JUDGE:

Dade Murphy, I hereby fine your family

forty-five thousand dollars...

The court gasps, Dade's father winces

JUDGE:

...and sentence you to probation, under

which you are forbidden to own or operate

a computer or touch tone telephone, until

the day of your eighteenth birthday.

Now Dade winces, in fact we almost expect him to cry.

Opening credits roll to a backdrop of Dade and his family

and lawyer fighting through a gaggle of journalists and

photographers, in slow motion, and driving away.

SEVEN YEARS LATER.

Aboard a jetliner, Dade Murphy is staring blankly out the

window, wearing headphones. Exterior view from the

aircraft of approaching New York City. The view becomes a

direct overhead of the buildings and streets of the city,

which then metamorphoses (through animation) into chips

and digital signals on a stylised computer board. The

title logo.

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