Friday, January 4, 2008

4. Clock Tower Murder - Eric













FADE IN:
EXT. CUPOLA-BRIGHT DAY
A male dressed in black fatigues with a rifle is leaning over the edge of a cupola.

FEMALE (VO)
Do you think it’s working?

MALE (VO)
Definitely, look at his pulse. Bio readings, it’s clean.
He doesn’t even know we’re watching him from thirty feet away.
We’re creating a beautiful machine.

FEMALE (VO)
A machine with no baggage I hope.
He’s enjoying this way too much for me to consider it therapeutic.

MALE (VO)
Times have changed. Murder is okay.
Catch up with us slowpoke, why don’t you?
You know as much about murder as
Jane Austen knew about the internet.

DERRICK holds an assault rifle. He leans over the edge of a cupola. A man with a shopping bag is crossing the street. HE is in the red crosshairs. Derrick exhales softly and pulls the trigger. The man’s HEAD explodes. Bits of brain fragment scatter across the sidewalk. DERRICK is whistling, and laughing softly to himself.

DERRICK
One down, 7.9 billion to go. Oh, this is so much fun.
There’s another one. Poor thing.
Maybe I should give her a chance? Nah.

DERRICK swivels the gun a fraction of an inch, exhales softly, and presses the trigger. The WOMAN’S back explodes over the face of another passerby.

DERRICK
I can’t believe this is legal.
This is better than sex. Hmm, I see another one.
I really hope the police don’t come. They still make me paranoid.

DERRICK (VO)
The thing is she had nothing to do with this. She wasn’t my boss.
She doesn’t even know me, or my boss.
This thing must be working, damn it. I’m going to stop therapy.

FEMALE (VO)
I still don’t see why it’s necessary to let him get his jollies.
We could arrest him right now.
He’s trapped in a fantasy that this is legal, and it isn’t.

MALE (VO)
God, please already. Stop playing the cynic.
It’s about cognitive psychology. Have you ever heard that quote,
“I know what’s legal, and I know what’s right.
I’ll stick with what’s legal.” Well this is legal.

Derrick is swiveling left and right, taking careful aim. He pauses, rhythmically, and swivels just fractions of an inch, pulling the trigger each time. Below, is a mass of BODIES.

DERRICK (VO)
The sights must be off on this one. I’m going to have to tell them to fix this.
Getting boring, really. It’s fun as prom with a Catholic,
but it’s not doing a lot for me, for some strange reason.
Damn, there’s a cop with his lights on. Better pack up.
On second thought, I’ll bag that son of a bitch. Then I’ll pack up.

FEMALE (VO)
Okay, I’m sorry, I’m going to pull the plug on this one.
He’s about to murder a cop.

MALE (VO)
Okay, go ahead. Maybe it’s time.

Fade to snow, then back to DERRICK. Wires protrude from his head and almost every orifice of his face. He is lying in a hospital bed. The female and a male in lab coats enters the room.

MALE
So, what did you learn today Derrick?

Derrick appears groggy. It takes him a few more seconds to respond than normal.

DERRICK
I don’t know. It wasn’t doing it for me.
Even though it seemed real.
No, it was real, as real as anything right.
If it happened in my mind it was real, right?

The MALE nurse nods.

DERRICK
If I had only thought everything through like the doc told me.
I’d never even be here. I’ll just say this works.
We do the program, then we talk about why.
Every time we go over it, it makes less and
less sense to murder everyone.
I’m getting less and less enjoyment each time.
Am I getting cognitive psychology?

The male nurse nods.

The female nurse takes the bag from the IV bag connected to Derrick and replaces it with another bag. Derrick begins to slowly close his eyes.

MALE
What the hell are you doing?

The male nurse yanks the IV bag from Derrick’s IV line and tackles the female. She cowers in a corner, as he pages security.

FADE TO BLACK

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