CUT TO:
INT. GENETICS LAB, THIRD FLOOR—NIGHT
A silent passageway, barely lit.
PING!
Light floods in as the elevator doors open and MICHAEL emerges, looking nervously left and right.
He feels his way along the corridor until he comes to a door he knows.
He peers at the security lock and slides down his card once more.
Another satisfying clunk!
He steps into the room and turns on the lights.
MICHAEL
All right . . . !
CUT TO:
INT. GENETICS LABS, JANE’S LAB—NIGHT
LIGHT flicks on from overhead fluorescent strips as MICHAEL steps into the center of the room.
He is on familiar ground here. He stares around for a moment, accustoming himself to the glare of the tube lighting.
He moves forwards to the bench.
MICHAEL
Now. Where are you my beauties? Don’t say . . .
He stares at a corner of the bench, which is empty. His hand strokes the bare surface.
MICHAEL
No. No, that would be . . . stay calm, kid. Always calm.
He stands back, trying to keep a lid on his mounting fears. He looks at the bench, as do we . . .
Deep sinks with rubber-hosed faucets. Electrical equipment. Centrifuges. Racks of test tubes. Below and above the benches, there are cupboards, like in a fitted kitchen.
MICHAEL takes a deep breath and goes to a cupboard. He pulls it open.
CLOSE on MICHAEL’s face.
We look at the cupboard . . .
EMPTY.
MICHAEL
Arse.
He opens another cupboard . . .
EMPTY.
MICHAEL
Pants.
And another . . .
EMPTY.
MICHAEL
Double-arse.
Another . . .
EMPTY.
MICHAEL
Double-pants.
Yet another . . .
FULL.
What was that? MICHAEL’s brows shoot up.
Yes! Full!
The cupboard is filled with large glass jars. One of them contains orange pills. We have seen these before. Scarcely able to breathe in case this is all a mirage, MICHAEL leans forward and takes up the glass jar of pills.
He sets it down on the bench tenderly, opens it and takes out a handful of pills.
He stares at them, breathes a deep sigh and begins to fill his pockets.
CUT TO:
INT. GENETICS LAB, GROUND FLOOR LOBBY—NIGHT
The lift doors open and MICHAEL steps out. He crosses the lobby and is just about to open the door and leave when . . .
A SOUND.
MICHAEL pricks his ears.
We HEAR a strange muffled HOWLING. MICHAEL turns and looks down the corridor, frowning in puzzlement.
Intrigued, MICHAEL pads along the corridor. The HOWLING sound grows.
He stops outside a door. It is mostly wooden, but there is a vertical strip of glass. MICHAEL presses his eyes to it.
From MICHAEL’s POV we look in as well.
Dimly lit, we make out CAGES.
Inside the cages there are DOGS. The cutest puppies you’ve ever seen, nosing softly and sadly against their steel bars.
MICHAEL
(whispering)
Hey there, pups!
The HOWLING grows, the cages begin to rock.
MICHAEL
Sh! Hey guys . . . shush, okay?
MICHAEL feels for his security card and swipes it through. He steps in.
CUT TO:
INT. GENETICS LABS, ANIMAL TESTING ROOM—NIGHT
MICHAEL switches on the lights and surveys the room. All around him are cages filled with puppies.
The whimpering, scrabbling and howling has grown to horrific proportions.
MICHAEL
(nervously)
Hi there, fellers . . . shush, now.
The sound grows even louder.
MICHAEL
You puppies . . . me Pup. Glad to know you.
More scrabbling and howling.
MICHAEL
Listen, I can’t set you free. You’re too young. You’d die. Believe me. It’d be cruel. I’m sorry.
DIFFERENT ANGLES on the puppies. Somehow they begin to look almost sinister. Huge, malevolent. The noise swells, the cages rock.
It looks as if the locks might give way.
MICHAEL backs away, scared. He leaves the room and shuts the door behind him.
CUT TO:
EXT. GENETICS LAB—NIGHT
MICHAEL runs from the building, the howling of the puppies still echoing in his ears.
CUT TO:
EXT. MADINGLEY ROAD—NIGHT
MUSIC:
MICHAEL is bicycling along at top speed. He leans round a corner and down the drive towards the Cavendish laboratories.
He thrashes along to the car-park and to the front of the building, where LEO is waiting outside, carrying a portable computer bag and looking a little impatient. MICHAEL dismounts and lets his bicycle drop where it is.
LEO
Any later and we would have missed the satellite.
MICHAEL
(panting)
Sorry . . . I had to . . .
LEO
Never mind. You’re here. Let’s go.
LEO turns to the door of the building. MICHAEL takes his briefcase from the rear of his fallen bike and follows.
MICHAEL
(under his breath)
Jawohl, mein Hauptmann! Schnell, schnell!
CUT TO:
INT. SATELLITE COMMUNICATIONS ROOM—NIGHT
LEO has set up the machinery. TIM is plugged in. Cables and flat cords fan out from its rear.
We notice that a Dymoed label saying “T.I.M.” has been fixed above the screen.
MICHAEL
I lost the pill. Can you believe it? I was sure I’d put it somewhere safe, but I’d lost the sucker. Had to go and get some more. That’s why I was late.
LEO
(concentrating on what he is doing)
You lost it?
MICHAEL empties his pockets. There are at least thirty of the pills.
MICHAEL
It’s okay, I got all these now. Maybe It’s no bad thing. I mean would one have been enough? We don’t really know anything about these suckers, do we?
LEO looks at the pills.
LEO
True.
MICHAEL
How many, do you reckon?
LEO
We’ll see. We cannot even be sure if Alois will drink.
MICHAEL
Sure he’ll drink. Think of his hangovers in the mornings. All he will want to do is drink gallons and gallons of water.
LEO
Such is our hope. Now, if you please. The coordinates.
MICHAEL opens his briefcase and consults his notes. He calls out the coordinates.
MICHAEL
Forty-seven degrees, thirteen minutes, twenty-eight seconds north, ten degrees, fifty-two minutes, thirty-one seconds east.
LEO goes to the satellite communications desk and inputs these figures as they are called out.
We see the TV monitor picture from one of the satellites change its attitude and angle on the earth. A caption beneath reads: 47° 13’ 28” N-10° 52’ 31” E.
LEO
Check.
LEO goes to TIM and takes a cable which he jacks into a socket that emerges from the satellite comms desk.
LEO goes to TIM and switches it on. There is a small flash of light, bu
t no image.
LEO
Now. The dates.
MICHAEL
We agreed on June 1888.
LEO
All right. Let us say first June 1888.
MICHAEL
In the morning.
LEO
Oh six hundred hours . . .
LEO presses keys on TIM. He switches a switch. There is a hum as TIM’s screen comes to life.
CLOSE on the screen. As before, colors swirling chaotically. A veined thread of dark purple runs through.
MICHAEL
Is that it?
LEO
That’s it. Brunau-am-Inn, Upper Austria, first June, 1888.
MICHAEL
Wow.
LEO and MICHAEL look at each other.
LEO takes four pills and goes to another part of the bench where there is a strange GRAY METAL CANISTER with a glass lid. He lifts the lid and places the pills inside. He takes a cable from the canister and attaches it to the rear of TIM.
MICHAEL swallows.
MICHAEL
Are you sure we want to do this?
LEO stares at MICHAEL.
LEO
We don’t have time for a conversation. In ten minutes we lose the satellite.
MICHAEL
It’s just that . . .
LEO
What are you saying to me? We’ve discussed this over and over. It’s your idea for God’s sake!
MICHAEL
I know, I know. But suppose it goes wrong?
LEO
Suppose it goes wrong? Suppose it goes wrong? Michael, it has gone wrong. That is the point.
He jabs a finger at the screen.
LEO (CONT’D)
Look! There! Look. The most evil force in world history is just ten months away from being unleashed. Misery, pain, torture, death, despair, ruin, destruction . . . what else can I say? Language breaks down. And we can stop it.
We CLOSE in on the screen and see the colored lights as LEO talks.
LEO (CONT’D)
(over)
This quiet little street is about to make Pandora’s box look like Barbie’s jewel case. And we can do something about it! We don’t have to shoot a gun or throw a knife. No bomb, no poison, no pain. Just four little pills and the evil never happened.
MICHAEL
And you will be able to sleep at night.
LEO
(angry)
You think that’s what this is all about?
The MUSIC builds.
CLOSE on MICHAEL.
CLOSE on the pills in the canister.
CLOSE on LEO.
CLOSE on LEO’s fingers over the switching gear.
CLOSE on MICHAEL’s thumb.
LEO nods twice and . . .
LEO
NOW!
MICHAEL’s thumb presses the button.
We see inside the canister the four pills appear to light up and glow with light. They start to fade as . . .
LEO’s finger presses his switch.
Inside the purple image on TIM’s screen the dim ghosts of four orange pills emerge and glow.
The pills have disappeared from inside the canister.
They have emerged in the well in Brunau.
Suddenly, as MICHAEL watches: everything in the room begins to swirl and morph.
The satellite monitors, the switching gear—even LEO himself, are all changing shape, all taking on swirling liquid form.
As the MUSIC reaches its climax it is clear that everything around him is being gathered into a whirlpool. Matter, light, energy, everything is swirling into a great tornado of light and color.
The epicenter of that tornado is TIM’s screen. All matter, starting with small objects, is morphed and swirled into it.
MICHAEL watches as LEO disappears in front of his eyes, sucked inside the screen as if he were no more than a leaf being swept into a drain.
A huge blinding implosion of light and color and now MICHAEL too is swept from his feet and flies through the screen as if diving into an ocean of glowing mercury.
Everything, the universe itself, it seems, is instantaneously sucked through TIM, which now seems to turn itself out and be sucked into itself leaving only . . .
BLACKOUT
Book Two
LOCAL HISTORY
Henry Hall
“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Projectile City . . .”
“Ow! ”
“Hey, I said ‘Lean your head up on the wall,’ not ‘bang it violently,’ dummy.”
“Gross, totally gross . . .”
“Oh man, that is a chuck . . .”
“Heck’s sake, I got some on my shoe . . .”
“His head okay?”
“No blood, but he’s gonna feel a bump in the morning.”
“Someone take his arm . . .”
“No way am I going anywhere near . . .”
“Why does he do this every darned time? I mean, Jesus . . .”
“Shoulda seen him last commencement . . .”
“We don’t get a move on, we’re gonna miss the shuttle.”
“I think he’s done.”
“Oh . . .”
“Hey! It speaks . . .”
“Where the bloody hell am I?”
“It speaks strangely . . .”
“Don’t jerk around, Mikey. We gotta move.”
“How about we grab a Whopper?”
“Oh . . .”
“Todd. Not a good idea . . .”
“Oh Lord . . . he’s down again.”
“My legs don’t seem to work.”
“No shit, Sherlock . . .”
“What is it with you, Mikey? I mean, heck’s sake, you didn’t drink any more ’an the rest of us . . .”
Dimly aware through swirling mists of alcohol that we are passing a Burger King. A strange Burger King. And a book shop. A strange book shop. Never seen it before.
Over the road a college gate. Trinity? Not Trinity. St John’s? No.
Where then?
Something not right with those cars. It’s not just that they swim and wobble like jellyfish. It’s not just that their headlights stab my eyeballs. There’s something else . . .
I’ll work it out in a minute. Meanwhile, concentrate on walking.
See? It’s not so hard . . .
Try a little straighter.
My God, it’s so humid . . .
Who are these people anyway?
Who are those guys?
You’re the one with the ideas, Butch.
That’s it, focus on what we know. Make sure we’re not totally gone.
Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, 1969, George Roy Hill.
Four fours are sixteen.
The Battle of Agincourt, 1415.
The capital of Corsica is Ajaccio.
Q: Can you tell me Napoleon’s nationality?
A: Course I can!
The sun is ninety-three million miles from the earth. Give or take.
L. P. Hartley’s middle name was Poles.
The past is a foreign country, they do things differently there.
Okay, so no brain damage.
Drunk, though. Well slammed. No doubt about that. And woozy from a bang on the head.
Just go with it, son.
Someone’s holding me up so tightly it’s tugging at the skin of my underarm.
Hey! What a sweet little bus!
What the hell is the driver doing over there?
Maybe I’ll try and sleep a little.
Mm . . .
“Wake up, vodka boy . . .”
“Henry Hall . . .”
“Henry Hall? Who??
?s Henry Hall?”
“Let’s just leave him here in the lobby, whadda you say?”
“Grow up, Williams.”
“It’s okay, I’ll get him to his room . . .”
“You’re a hero, Steve.”
“Seriously though, where am I?”
“Oh boy. Just follow me, man, I’m right behind you. Night fellers.”
“Night, Steve.”
“You think he’s okay?”
“He’ll be fine, I’ll make sure.”
“What is this place?”
“Home sweet home, Mikey. Here we go . . . one step at a time.”
“Where the others go?”
“The others have gone to their beds. Now, you must go to yours. Then I can go to mine. Which would be good. Key, please . . .”
“Huh? Key?”
“Mm-hm. Key.”
“What key?”
“Please don’t fool around, Mikey. I really need your key.”
“My key? Mikey? Who’s Mikey? Who’s my key?”
“Where is it?”
“Key? I don’t have a key.”
“Sure you do . . .”
“No key.”
“Yes key. Mikey, we’re gonna wake someone up any minute.”
“Hey! What are you doing?”
“It’s nothing personal, Mikey. I just need to find . . .”
“Get your hands out of my pockets, will you? I’m telling you, I don’t have . . .”
“Okay. So what’s this, a lucky charm?”
“I’ve never seen that before in my life.”
“You are seriously weird, you know that, Mikey? Are you sure you’re okay? Alrighty. In we go . . . On the bed where nice Mr. Sandman is waiting to take you away. Far away to the land of dreams where everybody is happy and eats cherry pie.”
“Whose room is this?”
“Lie down, don’t talk. It’s okay. I’m not gonna undress you.”
“I mean, what is going on?”
“I just need to make sure you’re not gonna puke up and drown, that’s all. Look at me, Mikey. You’re not gonna do any more puking, are you?”
“Who are you?”
“Just answer me. Do you need to puke?”
“No. Don’t need to puke . . .”
“Okay. That’s good. Your keys and your money are on the table here . . .”
“So hot . . .”
“Hoo, I wouldn’t want your head in the morning.”
“Nice bed. Comfy.”
“Sure. It’s comfy. Real comfy. I’m gonna switch the lights off now.”
“Night night . . . what do I call you? What’s your name?”