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THE SHOW OPENS. AT THE BIO LAB. SLOAN AND TOM WALK THROUGH THE LAB DOORS AND APPROACH ED, STANDING AT A COUNTER. TOM IS WEARING BLACK PANTS, A LONG-SLEEVE BLACK POLO SHIRT, AND A GREY HEAVY-WEIGHT SHIRT, WITH BOTH THE SHIRT AND THE CUFFS UNBUTTONED, OVER TOP.
Sloan: Hey, Ed.
Ed: Oh, hey.
Sloan: Whatís up?
Ed: Oh, Iím still working on the gene therapy.
ED WALKS ACROSS THE LAB TO ANOTHER COUNTER. A LAB TECH SITS BEFORE IT HOLDING A MONKEY ON HER LAP.
Ed: Just converted this little guyís DNA to one-point-six, using Attwoodís synthesis of the tickís one-point-six secretions.
Sloan: (awed) And he survived the transformation.
Ed: Yeah, so far.
Tom: Must mean heís strong.
Ed: That Ďs what Iím hoping. Now that Iíve converted him, I wanna bring him back.
Sloan: Then the door should swing both ways.
Ed: Thatís the idea. If they can do it to us, maybe we can do it to them.
ED WALKS OVER AND SITS BEFORE A COMPUTER. SLOAN AND TOM FOLLOW HIM OVER.
Ed: Of course, thatís if my computer models hold up. They all indicate that this should reconvert the monkey to his base level of one-point-one.
ED PICKS UP A VIAL.
Sloan: How sure are you about the model?
Ed: Sure enough.
SLOAN GIVES HIM A LOOK, AND HE RETURNS IT.
Ed: Hey, weíre way beyond theory here. We have to do live testing.
THE TECH BRINGS THE MONKEY FORWARD AS ED READIES A SYRINGE. TOM EXHALES A BREATH AS ED INJECTS THE MONKEYíS ARM.
CUT TO A SCENE OF A NEEDLE BEING INJECTED INTO A MANíS ARM. NIGHTTIME. CAR HEADLIGHTS ILLUMINATE THE SCENE. ATTWOOD STANDS BEFORE A TALL, ATTRACTIVE MAN, TAKING BLOOD FROM HIS ARM.
Attwood: Iíll be done in a second.
THE MAN LOOKS OVER ATTWOODíS SHOULDER AT THE LIMO LADY, WATCHING THE PROCEEDINGS.
Man: Youíre enjoying this humiliation.
Limo Lady: This isnít humiliation. This is a condition. Just as you had conditions for us.
ATTWOOD FINISHES TAKING HIS SAMPLE AND LOOKS UP AT THE MAN.
Attwood: The test only takes a moment.
ATTWOOD AND LIMO LADY START TO WALK OVER TO THEIR CAR.
Attwood: Would you care to tell me what this is all about?
Limo Lady: Letís hear what the test says first.
THEY REACH THE CAR. ON THE HOOD IS VARIOUS EQUIPMENT, AND A LAPTOP COMPUTER. ATTWOOD PREPARES THE BLOOD SAMPLE TO BE TESTED. THE DNA DIFFERENTIAL PROGRAM LOADS ON THE COMPUTER. THE RESULTS COME UP.
Attwood: A one-point-six percent differential. Heís not human.
Limo Lady: Then he is what he says he is.
Attwood: Which is?
Limo Lady: A negotiator.
Attwood: For what?
Limo Lady: Peace.
ATTWOOD AND LIMO LADY LOOK OVER AT THE MAN, STANDING NEAR HIS VEHICLE.
AT THE BIO LAB. IN SLOANíS OFFICE. TOM STANDS AT THE WINDOW, STARING OUT THROUGH IT INTO THE LAB AREA. HE TAPS HIS FIST AGAINST HIS CHIN, PENSIVE. SLOAN ENTERS THE OFFICE.
Sloan: What are you doing?
TOM LOOKS OVER AT SLOAN.
(YOU KNOW WHAT IíM THINKING? IíM THINKING HE LOOKS DAMN GOOD. NICE BLACK PANTS. NICE SHIRT, BLACK AND JUST TIGHT ENOUGH. CHECK OUT THAT BELLY!)
Sloan: About what Edís doing?
Sloan: That this may mean the end of your species.
SLOAN SITS ON THE EDGE OF HER DESK AND LOOKS UP AT HIM.
Sloan: (softly) Isnít that where weíve been heading all along?
Tom: Yeah, but until now it never seemed possible.
Sloan: But youíve helped us. Youíve made choices.
Tom: And Iím not going back on those.
TOM TURNS FROM THE WINDOW AND STEPS TOWARDS HER.
Tom: But itís only going to get harder from here on in. You think the members of my species are gonna line up like they're gettin' a flu shot?
Tom: Theyíre gonna have to be rounded up. Forcibly altered. How do you think thatís gonna go?
Sloan: I donít know. But from where I stand, itís better them, than us.
TOM LOOKS DOWN ON HER, ARMS FOLDED ACROSS HIS CHEST. (WOW.) ED ENTERS AND SENSES THE TENSION. (AND HEíS NOT EVEN ONE-POINT-SIX!)
Ed: Uh, sorry.
Sloan: Itís ok. Whatís up?
Ed: Just did the first blood test on the monkey. Itís working. Heís down to one-point-three differential.
ED BACKS OUT OF THE OFFICE. TOM LOOKS OVER AT SLOAN AND SHE LOOKS UP AT HIM.
NIGHTTIME. A LIMO DRIVES DOWN A WET CITY STREET. ITíS RAINING. (EL NINO AGAIN!!) ATTWOOD SITS IN THE BACK, LAPTOP COMPUTER IN FRONT OF HIM. LIMO LADY SITS ACROSS FROM HIM.
Attwood: Further tests confirm my flash report. Heís definitely one-six.
Limo Lady: As I suspected.
Attwood: And he wants peace? Is he like Tom, does he expect to work for us?
Limo Lady: No, itís bigger than that. He claims to work for a faction of the species which is willing to negotiate for coexistence.
Attwood: Negotiate? I didnít know that word was in your vocabulary.
Limo Lady: Well thereís a lot you donít know about me, Walter.
Attwood: Why bring me into this?
Limo Lady: I need you. Working at the lab gives you good cover and gives us plausible deniability. I need to keep a certain distance from this and youíre the only way I can do that.
Attwood: Iím not sure Iím comfortable with this.
Limo Lady: Yeah, I understand that. If there was another way, believe me, Iíd try it. You have to understand we're both at great risk here.
Attwood: Iíd feel more comfortable if we could inform Sloan, Tom, Ed.
Limo Lady: (insistently) Sorry Walter, you canít do that. Iím putting a lot of trust in you.
Attwood: (resigned) Okay.
DAYTIME. AT SLOANíS APARTMENT. SLOAN SITS ON TOMíS BED/OVERSIZED CHAIR TALKING ON THE PHONE.
Sloan: Oh, thatís great news, Ed...Yeah...
A WIDE SMILE SPREADS ACROSS SLOANíS FACE.
Sloan: Iíll call you later.
SHE HANGS UP AND LOOKS OVER AT TOM, SITTING ON A CHAIR IN THE DINING AREA, LOOKING AT THE FLOOR. HER SMILE FADES.
Sloan: The monkey is still reverting.
TOM LOOKS UP AT HER. SLOAN WALKS OVER AND SITS AT THE TABLE.
Sloan: Tom. Youíre gonna have to face the reality of what's happening.
Tom: I am. And the reality is, if this therapy works weíre talking about social upheaval. Maybe even war.
Sloan: Weíre headed in that direction anyway. What Ed is doing....itís the lesser of two evils.
Tom: Maybe. But only if it actually works.
Sloan: Well thatís what weíre finding out right now.
Tom: On a monkey!
Sloan: (sitting back) Wait a minute--
Tom: We need to test it...
Tom: ...On me.
Sloan: No. Way. Itís too risky!
Tom: The risk is it might not work, and instead of converting my species, we could kill them. And I'm not willing to go down that road unless I take the first step myself.
(WOW, NICE EYE SHOTS HERE!)
AT THE BIO LAB. IN ATTWOODíS OFFICE. RAY STANDS NEAR A FILING CABINET, FACING ATTWOOD, WHO IS SEATED AT HIS DESK.
Ray: Coexistence? Look I just donít buy it.
Attwood: Personally, or is it hard to believe that my superiors would entertain the concept?
Ray: Both! On the street it never paid off trying to get gangbangers to sit down and talk peace. All it did was give each of them a better look at their targets!
RAY SITS IN A CHAIR.
Attwood: Thatís why I want you as backup.
Ray: I thought you had people for that.
Attwood: I do. But I prefer you.
NIGHTTIME. A CAR PULLS INTO A DESERTED PARK. CRICKETS CHIRP. THE DOMINANT FROM BEFORE STEPS FORWARD AND ATTWOOD AND RAY GET OUT OF THE CAR.
Dominant: (gesturing to Ray) Whoís he?
Attwood: My associate.
Dominant: Has he been cleared?
Attwood: Iíve cleared him.
Dominant: Alright. So where do we start?
Attwood: First I need the assurance, that you represent enough of your species to make this conversation worthwhile.
Dominant: There are tens of thousands who believe what I believe.
Ray: Which is?
Dominant: Which is that our attempts to eradicate your species are doomed to failure. That our innate aggression will undoubtedly lead to our own downfall.
Attwood: You understand, weíll need to meet with someone with greater authority.
Dominant: Yes, of course. And we have conditions of our own.
Attwood: What is it you want?
Dominant: Safety for all of us. We wonít let history repeat itself, Doctor.
Attwood: What do you mean?
Dominant: The human race has such a long history of inflicting atrocities on those that they consider to be different.
Ray: Wait a minute, Iíve seen what you're capable of.
Dominant: (looking at Ray) Thatís not the group I represent, alright? We consider those actions to be just as abhorrent as you do.
Attwood: So what is it you want?
Dominant: Recognition from the United Nations. Weíre everywhere Doctor, in every country. We are citizens of the world, Dr. Attwood, and as such, we demand the same rights as all humans. Now is that really so much to ask?
RAY LOOKS OVER AT ATTWOOD.
NIGHTTIME. AT THE BIO LAB. ED SITS IN A CHAIR IN SLOANíS OFFICE. HE FLIPS CLOSED A FILE, STANDS, AND LOOKS OVER AT TOM, STANDING NEAR THE DOORWAY.
Ed: Iím sorry, Tom. I just donít think itís a good idea for me to subject you to this therapy.
Tom: Well itís working on the monkey, isnít it?
Ed: Yeah, so far. But the experiment's not complete. I mean Iím encouraged, but we havenít even come close to proving the treatmentís effectiveness.
ED BUSTLES OUT OF THE OFFICE.
Sloan: Yeah. Or itís safety.
TOM LEAVES THE OFFICE AND FOLLOWS ED. SLOAN HURRIES AFTER TOM.
Sloan: Tom, thereís a huge differential between your DNA and that of the monkey!
ED STANDS NEXT TO MACHINE, WORKING ON SOMETHING. TOM STANDS NEARBY IN THE LAB AREA; SLOAN WALKS UP TO JOIN HIM.
Tom: Look, youíve been excited about Edís research for weeks.
Sloan: Right! But that was before you started talking about rolling up your sleeve!
Tom: Ed, how long would it take you to run trials before you were ready to test it on me?
ED LOOKS UP FROM A CLIPBOARD.
Ed: A year. Pushing, I could do it in six months.
Tom: And the ramifications, if the therapy works as you hope?
ED HURRIES OVER TO A COMPUTER. (HEY HE IS WORKING HERE, EVEN IF NO ONE ELSE IS!)
Ed: I mean the number of lives we could save by diffusing your speciesí hostility would be incalculable.
TOM LOOKS AT SLOAN.
Tom: How can we wait?
TOM LOOKS AT ED.
Tom: How can we ignore this opportunity?
ED LOOKS OVER AT SLOAN, THEN STANDS UP.
Ed: Heís right, Sloan.
ED STARTS FIXING A SYRINGE. TOM STEPS FORWARD. SLOAN STARES AT TOM, MAJORLY WORRIED. TOM SITS DOWN IN A CHAIR NEAR THE COUNTER.
Ed: Can you pull up your sleeve?
(WOW, THAT SHIRT IS REALLY NICE.) TOM DOES SO. ED LEANS OVER AND INJECTS TOM. SLOAN WATCHES, THEN TURNS AND RUNS OUT OF THE ROOM. TOM LOOKS OVER HIS SHOULDER AT THE TEST MONKEY IN HIS CAGE.
NIGHTTIME. A LIMO TRAVELS DOWN A BUSY CITY STREET. LIMO LADY IS IN THE CAR, TALKING ON HER CELL PHONE.
Limo Lady: I can't over-emphasize the importance of this...I understand it may be difficult but itís time to pull strings. All of them. You have twenty-four hours....The United Nations never closes, do it! I have a man in a highly exposed situation who needs this. We all need this.
SHE HANGS UP WITH A HUFF.
AT THE BIO LAB. IN SLOANíS OFFICE. TOM SITS IN A CHAIR NEAR THE INTERIOR WINDOWS WHILE SLOAN SITS AT HER DESK, EATING CHINESE FOOD. SHE PICKS UP A CARTON AND OFFERS IT TO TOM. HE LOOKS UP.
Tom: (putting a halting hand up and shaking his head) No.
Sloan: Youíre nervous, arenít you?
Tom: Yeah, a little.
Sloan: So am I.
HE NODS A LITTLE AND GIVES A SLIGHT SMILE.
Sloan: Tom, I really donít think--
Tom: Sloan, please. I had to do this. Itíll be alright.
Sloan: I hope so. You realize that if Edís gene therapy works, your life is gonna change.
Tom: (with a humorous smile) Any more than itís already changed?
Sloan: Youíll be human. Who knows what that will mean?
TOM GIVES A SMALL LAUGH.
Sloan: Maybe youíll finally understand the feelings youíve had. And the emotions you were trained not to have.
Sloan: Whatever happens, Iíll always feel the same way about you.
TOM SUBTLY NODS HIS HEAD AGAIN AS ED APPEARS IN THE WINDOW. HE HAS A WORRIED LOOK ON HIS FACE. SLOAN LOOKS UP. ED WALKS TO THE DOOR AND STEPS IN.
Sloan: Whatís the matter?
ED LOOKS AT HER, THEN QUICKLY DOWN AT TOM.
Ed: How you feeling?
TOM GLANCES AT SLOAN, THEN BACK TO ED.
Tom: Fine, why?
Sloan: Whatís wrong?
Ed: The monkey. The one I gave the shot to, itís dead.
TOM LOOKS DOWN, TAKING THIS IN, THEN UP AT SLOAN.
AT THE BIO LAB. IN THE LAB AREA. SLOAN STANDS OVER A SLAB. THE DEAD MONKEY LAYS ON TOP OF IT, BEING EXAMINED BY A SEATED ED. TOM STANDS BY ONE OF THE COUNTERS, ARMS FOLDED, LOOKING DOWN AT THE MONKEY.
Sloan: What happened?
Ed: I noticed he was running a slight fever earlier this afternoon, otherwise he seemed fine.
Sloan: (disbelievingly) A slight fever and a few hours later heís dead?
Ed: Iíll know more, once I get a look inside.
Tom: (quietly) Letís do it.
ED LOOKS OVER AT TOM, THEN BACK AT SLOAN. HE BEGINS TO SLICE OPEN THE MONKEY.
Ed: Oh, my God.
Ed: His body cavityís filled with blood. He mustíve been bleeding internally for hours.
Sloan: What would cause that?
Ed: I donít know. Look, this is gonna take some time to figure out.
Sloan: We donít have time!
Tom: It doesnít make any difference.
SLOAN BLANCHES AT THIS STATEMENT.
Sloan: (to Ed) What do we do?
TOM STEPS OVER TO SLOAN AND PUTS HIS HAND ON HER SHOULDER AS HE WALKS PAST.
Tom: We wait.
NIGHTTIME. A DESERTED PARK AREA. LIMO LADYíS CAR IS PARKED, LIGHTS OFF. LIMO LADY AND ATTWOOD STAND IN THE HEADLIGHTS OF ATTWOODíS VEHICLE. THEY WALK TOWARDS THE LIMO. ATTWOOD CARRIES A LARGE ENVELOPE.
Limo Lady: In hereís everything our contact with the new species requested.
Attwood: You cut through all that U.N. red tape in twenty-four hours?
Limo Lady: Mm-hmm. Less, actually. You sound surprised.
Limo Lady: Donít forget who we work for, Walker.
LIMO LADY STOPS IN FRONT OF HER CAR.
Limo Lady: Everyone takes my call.
ATTWOOD TURNS TO GO.
Limo Lady: Walter.
HE STOPS AND LOOKS BACK AT HER.
Limo Lady: Thank you.
WALTER GIVES A LITTLE NOD AND CONTINUES OVER TO HIS CAR. LIMO LADY GETS INTO HERS.
AT SLOANíS APARTMENT. SLOAN ENTERS, AND TOM FOLLOWS HER IN. HE HAS HIS NICE MID-LENGTH GREY OVERCOAT PULLED TIGHT AROUND HIM. SLOAN RESETS HER ALARM AND CLOSES THE DOOR. TOM WALKS SLOWLY INTO THE LIVING ROOM.
Sloan: Are you okay?
HE PLOPS DOWN IN ONE OF SLOANíS COMFY CHAIRS. SLOAN HURRIES OVER TO HIM.
Sloan: You donít look like youíre feeling very well.
Tom: (looking up at Sloan with a smile) Keep telling me that and it will become a self-fulfilling prophecy.
Sloan: Iím sorry, but--
Tom: (testily) Iím just tired.
SLOAN FEELS HIS FOREHEAD AND NECK. TOM PLACES A HAND ON HER WRIST AND GRIMACES AS SHE PAWS HIM.
Sloan: Youíre burning up. How long have you been feeling like this?
TOM RAISES HIS EYEBROWS AND SHRUGS.
Tom: Coupla hours.
SLOAN STANDS AND TURNS.
Sloan: Iím calling Ed!
TOM GRABS HER HAND, HALTING HER.
Tom: No. Whatís he gonna do?
HE GIVES HER HAND A TUG.
Tom: Iíll be alright.
SLOAN LOOKS DOWN ON HIM, WORRIED. HE DROPS HIS HAND.
NIGHTTIME. AT THE DESERTED PARK. RAY PULLS UP IN HIS DODGE AND PARKS NEXT TO ATTWOOD, DRIVER DOOR TO DRIVER DOOR. ATTWOOD LOWERS HIS WINDOW.
Attwood: You ready?
Ray: Yeah, I am. But you donít look so sure.
Attwood: Iím not.
Ray: Well then whatíre we doing out here?
Attwood: Taking a chance.
Ray: Is it worth it?
Attwood: Peace is always worth it. Iím just uneasy about the speed at which this all came about.
Ray: Then I should be in there with you.
Attwood: I can handle it myself. Keep at a safe distance so they canít sense you. If thereís trouble, you come right in.
ATTWOOD STARTS HIS CAR AND DRIVES OFF.
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