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Gattaca
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Gattaca
A Screen Play
by Andrew M. Niccol
FADE IN
A
white title appears on a black screen.
"As night-fall does not
come at once, neither
does oppression...It is in
such twilight that
we all must be aware of change
in the air
- however slight - lest we
become victims of
the darkness."
Justice William O.
Douglas
The title fades off, replaced by a second
title.
"I not only think that we
will tamper with
Mother Nature, I think Mother
wants us to."
William Gaylin
The second title fades off, leaving a dark
screen.
The darkness gradually gives way to a
dawning light.
We are confronted with sight of a barren,
empty landscape. A
wide expanse of wasteland.
Suddenly, without warning, an elephant
tusk falls from the sky
and crashes onto the parched ground. The earth-shuddering
impact causes the tusk to rebound once in
slow motion before
finally settling to the desert floor in a
cloud of dust.
The first tusk is quickly followed by a
second, also dropping
from the heavens. It lands near the first. Another tusk
smashes to earth several yards away. Yet another comes crashing
into the foreground.
Finally the dust settles upon a graveyard
of tusks.
DISSOLVE TO
A BARREN, EMPTY LANDSCAPE
In another region of the wasteland, a
forest of tree trunks
suddenly rains down from the sky. The trunks thump to the hard
ground, also rebounding in slow motion. Cleanly sawn,
branchless, palm-like trunks, they come to
rest in the dust only
to be followed by a second cascade of
lumber.
When the dust finally clears. the felled
tree trunks lie in a
huge, log-jam in the desert.
DISSOLVE TO
A BARREN, EMPTY LANDSCAPE
Next to descend from the sky, a torrent of
firewood. One shower
after another, crashing to the plain. Enough chopped lumber to
fuel a thousand hearths.
DISSOLVE TO
A BARREN, EMPTY LANDSCAPE
Joining the rest of the debris is a deluge
of slate - sheets
of shale from a great unseen quarry in the
sky come slamming to
earth.
Some of the pieces shattering, some rebounding into the
air until the granite litters acres of
landscape as far as the
eye can see.
TITLES ARE SPACED APPROPRIATELY THROUGHOUT
THE PRECEDING
SEQUENCE.
THE FINAL TITLE READS:
T H E N O T
- T O O - D I
S T A N T F U T U R E
The camera commences a long, slow
pull-back from the pile of
elephant tusks. Gradually they are revealed as human
fingernails magnified many hundreds of
times.
The tree trunks are mere hair
follicles. The firewood,
whiskers.
The slate, flakes of skin.
INT.
INCINERATOR. EARLY MORNING.
A naked MAN, thirties, seen in profile, is
crouched upon a metal
floor inside a small, brushed stainless
steel tank, rubbing his
skin raw with a wire brush. JEROME MORROW.
Having completed his scrupulous ablutions,
Jerome arches his
lean frame through the small, oval door of
the metal room
with practised
ease.
Securing the thick, fireproof windowed
door behind himself, he
turns a switch to release gas into the vacated
chamber. The gas
instantly ignites in what is now revealed
to be a gleaming
modern stainless-steel custom-made
incinerator.
We refocus on a MAGNIFIED CLOSE UP of his
exfoliated flesh in
the incinerator as it blackens, curls and
burns.
Jerone covers
himself with a silk robe and steps into a pair of
backless slippers.
INT.
EUGENE'S CONDOMINIUM. EARLY
MORNING.
JEROME emerges from the incinerator room
into a large, luxurious
loft-style condo containing a bizarre
assortment of equipment -
arranged somewhat like a production line.
Long, scrupulously clean metal work
benches are arranged along
one entire wall. Laid out on the benches in neat rows are
dozens of plastic bags - some filled, some
unfilled. Instruments
on trays - various types of tweezers,
scissors and other less
familiar utensils. Round, stainless steel containers filled
with hairs of differing lengths and other
body matter.
JEROME approaches another man slumped over
one of the benches.
EUGENE.
He clutches an empty vodka bottle.
He is snoring
lightly - sleeping off the night
before. As JEROME gently
prises the
bottle out of his hand, we are struck by the
similarity of Eugene's face to Jerome's.
Jerome pulls Eugene's chair back from the
desk with surprising
ease.
A wheelchair - a modern, ergonomic design. Jerome wheels
Eugene to a bedroom and, with some
difficulty, hauls the larger
man onto the bed. Through his alcoholic fog, Eugene feebly co-
operates - his paralyzed legs a particular
dead weight.
After covering Eugene with a blanket,
Jerome enters a bathroom
containing a surgically-clean stainless
steel basin, sink,
shower and toilet.
Beside the toilet stands a large,
industrial-style stainless
steel refrigerator.
Donning protective gloves, Jerome opens
the liquid-nitrogen
cooled refrigerator. A cloud of condensed water vapor billows
out.
Revealed inside the fridge are racks of labelled
jars and
silicon pouches - some containing a
yellowish liquid, some a
deep, red liquid.
In front of one of the jars is a
handwritten shopping list -
"TRUFFLES, CIGS, VODKA". Jerome smiles to himself as he
retrieves the note along with one of the
jars. He checks the
jar's label. Satisfied with the date written there, he
breaks
the seal and pours the contents into the
clear, silicon pouch of
an IV-like device lying on the steel
bathroom counter.
He seals the pouch and checks the
apparatus by opening the valve
on its fine tube and squirting a small
quantity of the liquid
into the nearby toilet bowl, as one would
test a syringe. We
remain on Jerome's face as he reaches
between his legs and
inserts the pouch.
Reopening the refrigerator, Jerome slides
out a tray containing
neat rows of slim, fingertip-sized plastic
sachets filled with a
deep, red-colored liquid. He removes his gloves, selects one of
the sachets and carefully adheres the
sachet to the pad at the
end of his index finger. He prepares a second sachet for his
middle finger. Jerome then applies skin-colored cover-up
makeup
to the sachets, blending them in with the
color of his fingers.
JEROME, still dressed in his robe, climbs
a large, spiral
staircase to the floor above.
INT.
JEROME'S CONDOMINIUM. EARLY
MORNING.
He emerges at the top of the staircase
into a similarly large,
loft-stlye condominium. Through the floor to ceiling window
that opens onto a balcony we see that dawn
is only just starting
to leak into the night sky.
In the bedroom JEROME removes a shirt from
a drycleaning bag.
Printed on the bag - "Confidentiality
Guaranteed". He emerges
from his bedroom, dressed in a smart
albeit unconventionally cut
suit.
He adjusts his tie in the mirror, careful not to disturb
the sachets attached to his fingertips.
INT.
INVESTIGATOR'S POOL. MORNING.
A lone MAN swims a ferocious lap of
freestyle in what appears to
be a pool of enormous length - yet he
never reaches the pool's
end.
We pull wider to reveal that the man is swimming against
an artificial current in a pool barely larger
than himself.
Abruptly, the man stops and stands up -
the fast-flowing current
instantly stilled. We glimpse the face of INVESTIGATOR LUCAS.
Thirties, he has a youthful yet rigid
face. We have the
impression that he does not swim for
pleasure.
EXT.
CONDOMINIUM COMPLEX. MORNING.
It is still early as JEROME exits the
building's underground
parking garage in an immaculate Studebaker
Avanti and proceeds
down the long straight driveway. He exchanges a wave with a
GARDENER trimming a lawn.
The whir of the car's electric powered
engine belies its
conventional appearance.
EXT.
GATTACA AEROSPACE CORPORATION.
DAY.
JEROME's car exits a highway and turns up
the sweeping road
leading to the parking lot of
"GATTACA AEROSPACE CORPORATION".
A sleek, modern, low-rise industrial
compound boasting perfectly
manicured landscaped gardens.
INT.
GATTACA AEROSPACE CORPORATION.
DAY.
JEROME strides purposefully up to the entranceway
with hundreds
of other GATTACA EMPLOYEES. He carries himself with a certain
arrogance, a cool detachment. All employees wear similarly
unconventionally-cut suits, short coiffed
hair and robust tans.
The Gattaca
employees are a seemingly equal split of men and
women and a diverse range of ethnicities.
They filter through a row of channels
supervised by SECURITY
GUARDS.
Each channel contains a computerized security device,
featuring a slim groove in which the
employee places a finger
under the watchful eye of a Security
Guard.
Jerome gives a polite nod to a Guard as he
places his index
finger in the groove. His fingertip is jabbed with the
finest of needles and a minute blood
sample taken.
The blood specimen confirms Jerome's
identity - an ID photograph
appearing on a computer screen.
Out of the corner of his eye, Jerome spies
a young woman
entering through the adjacent
channel. She is also sneaking a
glance in his direction - IRENE. Catching each other looking,
they both quickly avert their eyes.
As Jerome enters the computer facility of Gattaca Aerospace
Corporation he furtively glances at the
pin-prick puncture in
his fingertip sachet.
SOMEWHERE IN DEEP SPACE.
A GATTACA spacecraft skirts an
asteroid. Taking advantage of
the rock's gravitational pull, the craft
slingshots deeper into
the black void. Then abruptly the craft and the asteroid
freeze
in mid-space, suddenly reverse direction
and proceed forward
again - the spacecraft taking a slightly
adjusted course.
We pull back to reveal that the journey is
merely a highly
realistic graphic representation on a
GATTACA computer screen
operated by JEROME.
Appearing simultaneously alongside the
computer animation is a
seemingly never-ending column of computer
instructions for this
celestial navigation - the
incomprehensible language of the
computer programmer.
140 #x20x08x$$x20x08x$$x20x08x$$x20{
150
#x00x00x00x00x00x00x00x00x00x00
160 #xfexfexfexfexfexfexfexfexfexfe
Jerome is transported - plotting a path
through the heavens.
As his fingers fly across the keys he does
not once take his
eyes from the screen.
His is one of hundreds of ergonomically
designed work stations,
arranged in ever-widening circles in a
huge, curcular, well-
appointed if antiseptic room. Each curved desk contains a
computer terminal consisting of a keyboard
and a slim,
transparent screen behind which is seated
a PROGRAMMER,
designing software for the aerospace
agency. At the center of
the room is a donut-shaped command
console, chairs facing
outwards, from which operations are
monitored.
Floor to ceiling smoked-glass curved walls
offer the only
concession to nature - a tinted view of a
man-made, meticulously
landscaped garden.
Jerome tears himself away from his screen
and picks up a
discreet mini-vac. He vacuums between the keys of his keyboard.
DIRECTOR JOSEF, 50's, a shorter,
official-looking man
approaches. His assistant IRENE stands at his shoulder.
DIRECTOR JOSEF
You keep your work station so
clean, Jerome.
JEROME
--Next to Godliness, isn't that
what they say?
The Director smiles at the notion and
places a computer disc
on Jerome's desk.
DIRECTOR JOSEF
I reviewed your flight plan. Not one error
in a hundred thousand
keystrokes. Phenomenal.
(placing a hand on
Jerome's shoulder)
It's right that someone like you
is taking us
to the Belt.
(glancing to notification
on Jerome's screen)
You have a substance test.
The Director briskly departs, Irene in
tow. At a nearby work
station, a painfully thin programmer,
NAPOLEON, perks up at
the mention of the test.
Jerome merely shrugs and pretends to reach
down and scratch his
ankle.
However he surreptitiously produced one of Eugene's
transparent specimen bags from his
sock. An EXTREME CLOSE UP
reveals the bag's contents - flakes of
skin, hair follicles,
eyelashes, a fingernail. Cupping the bag in his hand to avoid
detection, Jerome sprinkles the fraudulent
body matter over his
keyboard, desk surfaces and the floor
around his work station.
He
opens his desk drawer and casually scatters the remainder of
the bag.
Finally he inspects a comb already laced with two
hair follicles.
Jerome rises from his work station and
makes his way towards the
testing lab.
INT.
GATTACA AEROSPACE CORPORATION - TESTING LABORATORY. DAY.
White-coated LAMAR, forties, buzzcut, a man's man, checks
JEROME's eyes with an instrument. Satisfied with his
examination, he passes a transparent
plastic container to
JEROME.
Standing directly in front of the technician with his
back to camera, Jerome opens his fly. A steady stream of urine
begins to flow into the container from
Jerome's hidden pouch.
LAMAR
(staring admiringly at
the discharge)
Jerome...never shy. Pisses on command.
You've got a beautiful cock. I ever told
you that, Jerome?
JEROME
(deadpan as he continues
to urinate)
Only every time I'm in here.
Jerome hands the container to Lamara who seals and label it as
Jerome refastens his trousers.
LAMAR
I see a lot of cocks. I speak from experience.
Yours is a beautiful example. Why didn't my
folks order a cock like that for
me?
LAMAR pours the urine sample into a
high-tech device where it
is instantly analyzed. The urine identifies Jerone
while also
registering a negative drug reading. The computer reads
"VALID".
LAMAR
(walking Jerome to the
door)
If everything goes to plan, this
could be the
last time I see you for a while. One week to
go. Please tell me you're the least bit excited.
JEROME
I'll tell you at the end of the
week.
Jerome departs.
INT.
GATTACA - RESTROOM. DAY.
JEROME enters the restroom and glances at
the toilet stalls.
Only three in the bank of twenty is
occupied. He tarries at the
mirror above the uniform line of basins,
unnecessarily
reknotting his
tie.
A toilet flushes and a COLLEAGUE exits one
of the stalls. He
and Jerome exchange a nod. When the man has exited the restroom,
Jerome enters the man's vacated stall.
INT.
GATTACA - TOILET STALL. DAY.
JEROME immediately feels around the back
of the toilet bowl and
detaches a secreted stainless steel
container.
With surprising swiftness and dexterity,
Jerome removes an
extremely fine contact lens from each eye
and drops the pair
into the toilet bowl. He inserts two replacement lenses from
the container and reattaches it in its
hiding place.
Jerome flushes the toilet and exits the
stall. He checks in the
mirror that his new contact lenses are
properly inserted.
INT.
GATTACA - CORRIDOR. DAY.
Walking back along one of the long,
glass-walled corridors,
JEROME becomes aware of a peculiar noise
in the complex -
or to be more precise, a lack of
noise. The incessant tapping
of computer keys has stilled.
As Jerome gazes through the glass walled
corridor, we see the
reflection of his face, deep in thought.
JEROME (VO)
The most unremarkable of
events. Jerome
Morrow, Navigator First class, is
only days
away from a one-year manned
mission to 951
Gaspra in the Outer
Asteroid Belt. Nothing so
unique in that. Last year over one thousand
citizens from every walk of life
embarked on
some space mission or other. Besides,
selection for Jerome was
virtually guaranteed
at birth. He is blessed with all the physical
and intellectual gifts required
for such an
arduous undertaking, a genetic
quotient second
to none.
Jerome's gaze drifts to the sky.
JEROME (VO)
No, there is truly nothing
remarkable about
the progress of Jerome Morrow,
except that I
am not Jerome Morrow.
EXT.
BEACH. DUSK - THIRTY-ODD YEARS
EARILER
A starry sky. The camera tilts down to find palm trees
swaying against a setting sun.
JEROME (VO)
I was conceived in the
Riviera. Not the
French
Riviera.
The camera tilts down further to find a
Buick Riviera parked in
a deserted beachfront parking lot on a
polluted stretch of
beach.
JEROME (VO)
The Detroit
variety.
Through the car's steamed windows we see
Jerome's mother and
father, MARIA and ANTONIO, early twenties,
making love.
JEROME (VO)
They used to say that a child
conceived in love,
has a greater chance of
happiness. They don't
say that any more.
INT.
FAMILY PLANNING CLINIC. DAY.
MARIA, wearing a medical gown, lies on an
examining table, feet
in stirrups. A NURSE, forties, wheels an instrument tray
towards her. Maria suddenly disengages her feet from the
stirrups and swings her legs off the
table.
NURSE
What are you doing?
MARIA
(shaking her head)
I can't do this.
NURSE
(misinterpreting the problem)
I told you, the government
pays. It's all
taken care of.
MARIA
No, you don't understand. I can't.
The nurse places a comforting hand on
Maria's shoulder.
NURSE
(reassuring)
The doctor will give you
something.
MARIA
(removing the hand,
adamant)
I'm not doing it.
NURSE
(trying to make her see
reason)
Honey, you've made one
mistake--
The remark stings Maria.
NURSE
(softening her tone)
--I've read your profile. I don't
know about the father but you
carry
enough hereditary factors on your
own.
(pause)
You can have other children.
MARIA
(holding her swollen stomach protectively)
Not like this one.
NURSE
(trying to be diplomatic)
Honey, look around you. The world doesn't
want one like that one.
Maria gets off the table and reaches for
her clothes laying
across a chair.
MARIA
(irate)
You don't know what it will be!
The nurse watches Maria as she dresses,
genuinely bewildered.
NURSE
(calling out to Maria as
she disappears
out of the door)
The child won't thank you!
INT.
DELIVERY ROOM. DAY.
We focus on a crucifix dangling on a
rosary. Tilting up we find
the rosary clasped between MARIA and
ANTONIO's intertwined
hands.
JEROME (VO)
Those were early days--days when
a priest
could still persuade someone to
put their
faith in God's hands rather than
those of
the local geneticist.
Bathed in sweat, Maria gives a final push
on the delivery table.
While still attached to his umbilical
cord, the heel of the
NEWBORN BABY BOY is immediately pricked by
a masked NURSE. A
minute drop of blood is inserted into an
analyzing machine.
Even as the baby is put into Maria's arms,
page after page of
data begins to appear on a monitor,
pulsing warning signals
throughout the spreadsheets.
Two assisting NURSES exchange a look. Antonio senses something
amiss.
ANTONIO
What's wrong?
JEROME (VO)
Of course, there was nothing wrong
with me.
Not so long ago I would have been
considered
a perfectly healthy, normal
baby. Ten fingers,
ten toes. That was all that used to matter.
But now my immediate well-being
was not the
sole concern.
Antonio turns his attention from his baby
to the data appearing
on the monitor. We see individual items highlighted amongst
the
data - "NERVE CONDITION -
PROBABILITY 60%", "MANIC DEPRESSION -
42%", "OBESITY - 66%",
"ATTENTION DEFICIT DISORDER - 89%"--
JEROME (VO)
My destiny was mapped out before
me--
all my flaws, predispositions and
susceptibilities - most
untreatable to
this day. Only minutes old, the date and
cause of my death was already
known.
Antonio focuses on a final highlighted
item on the monitor's
screen, "HEART DISORDER - 99% -
EARLY FATAL POTENTIAL.".
"LIFE EXPECTANCY - 33 YEARS".
NURSE
The name?
(typing details into
birth certificate)
For the certificate.
MARIA
Antonio--
ANTONIO
(correcting her)
--No, Vincent Antonio.
With a computer stylus he signs the
nurse's handheld screen.
EXT.
TRACT HOME - BACKYARD. DAY.
2-YEAR-OLD JEROME (REFERRED TO BY HIS
GIVEN NAME OF "VINCENT"
FOR MOST OF THE FOLLOWING FLASHBACK)
running with a toy rocket
falls more in clumsiness than
fatigue. MARIA suddenly whisks up
the toddler.
MARIA
(hysterical)
Oh, Vincent, Vincent, Vincent...I
can't let
you out of my sight.
Maria frantically listens to her young
son's heartbeat. For
his part, Vincent appears surprised by the
attention. Maria
places a portable oxygen mask over
Vincent's mouth.
JEROME (VO)
I was born Vincent Antonio
Luca. And from
an early age I came to think of
myself as
others thought of me -
chronically ill.
Every skinned knee and runny nose
treated
as if it were life-threatening.
INT.
DAY CARE CENTER. DAY.
MARIA and ANTONIO drop off dark-haired
2-YEAR-OLD VINCENT at a
Day Care Center.
JEROME (VO)
And my parents soon realized that
wherever
I went, my genetic prophecy preceded
me.
While HEALTHY CHILDREN play outside on
tricycles, clamber over
jungle-gyms and finger-paint, the
PRE-SCHOOL TEACHER shows
Vincent into a room where CHILDREN WITH
OBVIOUS DISABILITIES
sleep on mats.
Maria wheels around and marches out of the
center with Vincent
in her arms. Antonio follows close behind, pleading with
his
wife to see sense.
JEROME (VO)
They put off having any more
children
until they could afford not to
gamble -
to bring a child into the world
in what
has become the
"natural" way.
EXT.
HOME. DAY.
ANTONIO reluctantly shows off his spotless
Buick Riviera to a
prospective BUYER.
JEROME (VO)
It meant selling the beloved
Buick.
The two men haggle over the price while
MARIA, holding VINCENT
in her arms, looks on. Finally money and a pink slip are
exchanged.
VINCENT (VO)
My father got a good price. After all,
the only accident he'd ever had
in that
car was me.
As the BUYER drives away, Antonio shrugs
to Maria to hide his
disappointment.
EXT.
GENETIC COUNSELLING OFFICE BUILDING.
DAY.
ANTONIO, MARIA and 2-YEAR-OLD VINCENT exit
a packed commuter
bus and enter a Genetic Counselling office building bearing
the sign - "PRO-CREATION".
INT.
GENETIC COUNSELLING OFFICE. DAY.
A GENETICIST stares into a high-powered
microscope as ANTONIO,
MARIA and 2-YEAR-OLD VINCENT are shown
into the office by a
NURSE.
On the counter beside the Geneticist is a glass-doored
industrial refrigerator containing petri dishes arranged on
racks several feet high.
GENETICIST
(to the nurse, without
taking
his eyes from his
binocular microscope)
Put up the dish.
While Antonio and Maria take a seat in front
of a television
monitor, the Nurse puts a labelled petri dish under a
video-
equipped microscope. The Geneticist swings around in his chair
to greet his clients.
Four magnified clusters of cells - eight
cells on each cluster
- appear on the television screen.
GENETICIST
Your extracted eggs...
(noting the couple's
names from
data along the edge of
the screen)
...Maria, have been
fertilized with...
Antonio's sperm and we
have performed an
analysis of the resulting
pre-embryos.
After screening we're left with
two healthy
boys and two healthy girls. Naturally, no
critical pre-dispositions to any
of the major
inheritable diseases. All that remains is
to select the most compatible
candidate.
Maria and Antonio exchange a nervous
smile.
GENETICIST
First, we may as well decide on
gender.
Have you given it any thought?
MARIA
(referring to the toddler
on her knee)
We would like Vincent to have a
brother...
you know, to play with.
The Geneticist nods. He scans the data around the edge of the
screen.
GENETICIST
You've already specified blue eyes,
dark
hair and fair skin. I have taken the liberty
of eradicating any potentially
prejudicial
conditions - premature baldness,
myopia,
alcoholism and addictive
susceptibility,
propensity for violence and
obesity--
MARIA
(interrupting, anxious)
--We didn't want--diseases,
yes.
ANTONIO
(more diplomatic)
We were wondering if we should
leave some
things to chance.
GENETICIST
(reassuring)
You want to give your child the
best possible
start. Believe me, we have enough imperfection
built-in already. Your child doesn't need
any additional burdens. And keep in mind,
this child is still you, simply
the best of you.
You could conceive naturally a
thousand times
and never get such a result.
ANTONIO
(squeezing Maria's hand)
He's right, Maria. That's right.
Maria is only half-convinced, but the
Geneticist swiftly moves
on.
GENETICIST
Is there any reason you'd want a
left-handed
child?
ANTONIO
(blank)
Er,
no...
GENETICIST
(explaining)
Some believe it is associated
with creativity,
although there's no
evidence. Also for
sports like baseball it can be an
advantage.
ANTONIO
(shrugs)
I like football.
GENETICIST
(injecting a note of
levity)
I have to warn you, Mr Luca, he's going
to be at least a head taller than
you.
Prepare for a crick in the neck
in
sixteen years time.
Antonio beams proudly.
GENETICIST
(scanning the data on the
screen)
Anything I've forgotten?
MARIA
(hesitant about broaching the
subject)
We want him--we were hoping he
would get
married and have children. We'd like
grandchildren.
GENETICIST
(conspiratorial smile)
I understand. That's already been taken
care of.
(an afterthought)
Now you appreciate I can only
work with
the raw material I have at my
disposal but
for a little extra...I could also attempt to
insert sequences associated with
enhanced
mathematical or musical ability.
MARIA
(suddenly enthused)
Antonio, the choir...
GENETICIST
(interjecting, covering
himself)
I have to caution you it's not
fool-proof.
With multi-gene traits there can
be no guarantees.
ANTONIO
How much extra?
GENETICIST
It would be five thousand more.
Antonio's face falls.
ANTONIO
I'm sorry, there's no way we can.
GENETICIST
Don't worry. You'll probably do just
as well singing to him in the
womb.
(rising to end the
appointment)
We can implant the most
successful
pre-embryo tomorrow afternoon.
Maria is staring at the four magnified
clumps on the screen.
MARIA
What will happen to the others?
GENETICIST
(reassuring)
They are not babies, Maria,
merely
"human possibilities".
Removing the petri
dish from beneath the lens of the microscope,
he points out the four minuscule specks.
GENETICIST
Smaller than a grain of sand.
DISSOLVE TO
INT.
TRACT HOME. DAY.
A red pencil draws a mark on a doorway at
the height of a
child's head. The child moves away and the name, "ANTON
11" is
written beside the mark by proud father,
ANTONIO.
JEROME (VO)
That's how my brother, Anton,
came into the
world - a son my father
considered worthy
of his name.
There is little physical similarity
between 11-YEAR-OLD ANTON
and 13-YEAR-OLD VINCENT standing beside
him, apart from their
height.
In fact Vincent is mortified to see that his younger
brother's mark is a fraction of an inch
higher than the mark
beside his own name, "VINCENT
13". Vincent runs from the
room.
EXT.
BEACH. DAY.
13-YEAR-OLD VINCENT and 11-YEAR-OLD ANTON
sit together on a
windswept beach.
Anton picks up a broken shell and
deliberately slices the tip of
his thumb with the sharp edge. He hands the shell to Vincent
who hesitantly follows suit.
JEROME (VO)
By the time we were playing at
blood
brothers I understood that there
was something
very different flowing through my
veins.
The two brothers press their thumbs
together, merging the blood.
JEROME (VO)
And I'd need an awful lot more
than
a drop if I was going to get
anywhere.
EXT.
BEACH. LATER IN THE DAY.
While ANTONIO and MARIA doze under a beach
umbrella, ANTON and
VINCENT enter the water, diving through
the waves. From above
we watch their two young bodies swimming
beside each other
beyond the breakers.
JEROME (VO)
Our favorite game was
"chicken". When our
parents weren't watching, we used
to swim outside
the flags, as far out as we
dared. It was about
who would get scared and turn
back first.
Suddenly VINCENT stops swimming, pulling
up sharply in the
water, exhausted and fearful. He watches ANTON swim on into the
distance.
JEROME (VO)
Of course, it was always me. Anton was by far
the stronger swimmer and he had
no excuse to fail.
INT.
SCHOOL - CLASSROOM. DAY.
A TEACHER gives a physics lesson. The bespectacled 13-YEAR-OLD
VINCENT has his arm energetically raised
at each opportunity but
is never called upon. Eventually he lowers his arm in defeat.
JEROME (VO)
My genetic scarlet letter
continued to follow
me from school to school. When you're told
you're prone to learning
disabilities, it's
sometimes easier not to
disappoint anybody.
EXT.
STREET. NIGHT.
13-YEAR-OLD VINCENT stands at a cul-de-sac
at the end of a long,
straight deserted street. He places a basketball in the middle
of the street to represent the SUN and
begins to unwind the huge
reel of string attached to the ball. 11-YEAR-OLD ANTON walks a
pace behind him. Several yards along the trail a bead is
threaded through the string to represent
the planet MERCURY.
ANTON
How many astronauts are there, anyway?
Vincent ignores him and continues to reel
out the string.
ANTON
I bet I could be one.
Vincent stops and regards his younger
brother with contempt.
VINCENT
You're standing on Venus.
Anton lifts his foot. There is a bead beneath it.
INT/EXT.
CAR / SATELLITE DISH. DUSK.
VINCENT has developed into a handsome
17-YEAR-OLD. His
spectacles hidden, he and a YOUNG WOMAN
are necking in the front
seat of a beat-up car, parked overlooking
a huge satellite dish.
JEROME (VO)
I was popular enough until it got
around
that I wasn't a long-term
proposition.
The love-making intensifies. The YOUNG WOMAN moves down
Vincent's chest and unzips his fly.
JEROME (VO)
Those who didn't know already
could easily
find out for themselves. It was certainly
no problem coaxing the
information out of me.
We remain on Vincent's face as he
climaxes. The YOUNG WOMAN
turns her head away from the spent Jerome
and, out of his
view, trickles semen from her mouth into a
clear specimen vial.
JEROME (VO)
I didn't blame them. You need to know if a
prospective husband can qualify
for a mortgage
or life insurance or can hold
down a decent job.
INT.
HOME. DAY.
In the living room of their modest home,
the dark-haired, 17-
year-old, bespectacled VINCENT sits
opposite his PARENTS. The
crestfallen Vincent has a book on his lap
entitled "CAREERS IN
SPACE".
MOTHER
(trying to break it gently)
Vincent, you have to be
realistic. A
heart condition like yours--
VINCENT
--I don't care. I'll take the risk.
MOTHER
It's not just you they
have to be concerned
about. Perhaps we could get you one of
those new pacemakers. They're not perfect
but--
FATHER
(letting his frustration
show)
For God's sake, Vincent, don't
you understand.
The only way you'll see the
inside of a space
ship is if you're cleaning it!
Vincent looks at his father in disbelief.
On a dinner table on the other side of the
living room, 15-YEAR-
OLD ANTON looks up from the biological
specimen he is studying
with a magnifying glass.
INT.
PERSONNEL OFFICE - WAITING ROOM.
DAY.
17-YEAR-OLD VINCENT hides his glasses in his
pocket as he enters
a WAITING ROOM. He gazes around at other APPLICANTS.
JEROME (VO)
My father was right. It didn't matter how
much I lied on my resumÈ, my real C.V. was
in my cells. Why should anybody invest all
that money to train me,
when there are a
thousand other applicants with a
far cleaner
profile? Of course, it's illegal to discriminate -
"genoism"
it's called - but no one takes the
laws seriously.
As Jerome enters the office, we focus on
the doorhandle he has
just touched.
JEROME (VO)
If you refuse to disclose, they
can always
take a sample from a doorhandle...
Vincent hesitates before shaking the
PERSONNEL OFFICER's
outstretched hand.
JEROME (VO)
...or a handshake...
We focus on Jerome's envelope attached to
his application form
sitting on the Manager's desk.
JEROME (VO)
...even the saliva off your
application form.
Sitting opposite the manager, Jerome's
face falls. The manager
puts a clear, plastic cup in front of Jerome.
JEROME (VO)
But for the most part we know who
we are.
And if all else fails, a legal
drug test
can just as easily become an
illegal peek
at your future in the company.
Vincent saves the Manager the trouble and
exits the office,
leaving the cup where it sits.
EXT.
BEACH. DAY.
17-YEAR-OLD JEROME walks up the beach to
find 15-YEAR-OLD ANTON
sitting with the YOUNG WOMAN Vincent had
previously dated.
JEROME (VO)
I didn't blame Anton for his free
ride. You
can't blame someone for winning
the lottery.
The Young Woman hastily departs.
LATER the two brothers face each other on
the sand. Anton is
the more statuesque of the two.
ANTON
(cocky)
You sure you want to do this?
Vincent's answer is to walk towards the
water. Anton smiles
mockingly at his brother's grim "game
face" and
follows.
From an aerial view we watch VINCENT and
his younger brother, ANTON,
swim beyond the breakers.
JEROME (VO)
It was the last time we swam
together.
Out into the open sea, like
always,
knowing each stroke towards the
horizon
was one we had to make back to
the
shore. Like always, the unspoken contest.
We watch the two young men swimming stroke
for stroke. They
swim far out, beyond the point. Suddenly ANTON starts to slow,
his strokes becoming labored until he
becomes motionless in the
water.
He begins to sink like a stone.
VINCENT, realizing
Anton is no longer beside him, turns back
to lend support.
Vincent takes him in a lifeguard hold and
begins to nurse him
back to shore. Finally the two boys are coughed up onto the
shallows.
They collapse, just beyond the waterline, exhausted,
gasping for air. ANTONIO and MARIA arrive on the scene. ANTON
is the first to recover while VINCENT
clutches his side, his
face screwed up in pain. Maria kneels down and starts to
administer to Vincent but his father,
Antonio, is unable to
conceal his anger and contempt for
Vincent.
ANTONIO
Vincent, you damn fool! You could have killed
Anton with your ridiculous
contest! Why should
he risk his life to save
yours?! When are you
going to get it through your
thick head--you
can't compete with your
brother! Why try?!
Maria takes Antonio aside. Anton and Vincent exchange a look.
ANTON
Why didn't you say anything?
VINCENT
Why didn't you?
(staring back at his
father knowingly)
It's okay. It's the way they want it.
JEROME (VO)
It confirmed everything in the minds
of
my parents - that they had taken
the right
course with my younger brother
and the
wrong course with me. It would have been so
much easier for everyone if I
had slipped away
that day. I decided to grant them that wish.
INT.
HOME. NIGHT.
ANTON stands at the mantlepiece
in the dimly-lit living room.
He gazes at a framed family portrait -
Vincent's face has been
torn out of it. He suddenly spies VINCENT exiting the front
gate, carrying a suitcase. Anton goes to shout Vincent's name
but the words don't get out.
EXT.
GATTACA. DAWN.
A pick-up truck, packed with a CLEANING
CREW, pulls into the
rear of the building. They are no longer strictly the migrant
workers we have come to expect but rather
a mixture of
ethnicities - all members of a genetic
underclass that does not
discriminate by race.
As VINCENT exits the truck and turns
towards the camera, we
discover that he has now matured into the
man we have come to
know as JEROME. The only visible differences are the glasses
he
wears and his hair, still naturally dark.
JEROME (VO)
Like many others in my situation,
I moved
around a lot in the next few
years, getting
work where I could. I must have cleaned
half the toilets in the state.
We follow VINCENT through the course of a
day. Cleaning
restrooms, toilets, picking up litter,
sweeping, washing
windows - gazing at the AEROSPACE WORKERS
below. The building
is part of the Gattaca
facility, located near a shuttle launch
site.
Throughout the day, with the regularity of 747's, Vincent
spies rocket ships in the distance,
launching into the sky.
Jerome's is the only head that turns and
looks up. Long after
the sun has set, Vincent is still
working. Another rocket ship
lights up the darkness. Vincent gazes forlornly into the
heavens.
EXT. GATTACA - GLASS WALL. DAY.
VINCENT cleans a window from the outside,
staring in at the
arrogant GATTACA EMPLOYEES entering the
security channels -
a smaple taken
from their fingertips. Jerome, in a
trance,
constantly cleans the same spot of
glass. He fails to notice an
Older Janitor, CAESAR, appear beside him.
CAESAR
When you clean the glass,
Vincent, don't
clean it too well.
VINCENT
(confused)
What do you mean?
CAESAR
(glancing to the Gattaca workers)
You might get ideas.
VINCENT
But if the glass is clean, it'll
be easier
for you to see me when I'm on the
other
side of it.
Caesar smiles at Vincent's cockiness.
INT.
GATTACA. DAY.
VINCENT empties garbage into a dumpster
adjacent to Gattaca.
His attention is drawn to something in the
trash. A discarded
manual on Celestial Mechanics and
Navigation. He wipes food
residue off the corner.
INT.
ASTRONOMY & TELESCOPE SHOP.
DAY.
A forest of telescopes on tripods in an
astronomy shop. VINCENT
enters the store with a bucket and
squeegee and immediately goes
to clean the storefront window. The STORE OWNER looks up from
his tabloid - "STAR" magazine.
OWNER
Where's Earl?
JEROME
He fell. Lucky it was only the second floor.
The owner nods and returns to his
magazine. When he looks up
again one of his tripods is missing its
telescope and Jerome is
nowhere to be seen.
INT.
IN-VALID HOUSING PROJECT. NIGHT.
JEROME returns to his bare apartment. He removes the cloth
covering the bucket to reveal a
dumpy-shaped telescope snugly
wedged inside. He starts to pour over his collection of
textbooks.
Other tattered space paraphenalia adorns the
wall.
JEROME (VO)
Of course the best test score in
the world
wasn't going to get me in the
front door
unless I had the blood test to go
with it.
EXT.
GATTACA. NIGHT.
While his fellow WORKERS sit on the steps
at the service
entrance to Gattaca,
passing around an unlabeled bottle of clear
liquor, VINCENT sits some distance away
studying his text book.
In the absence of a computer, he practices
typing commands on a
keyboard handdrawn
on the flap of a cardboard box.
A tiny, seedy-looking man, GERMAN,
forties, appears from
nowhere and takes a seat beside him.
GERMAN
(offering his hand)
Vincent, I'm German--
(anticipating Vincent's
response)
That's my name.
He looks the apprehensive Vincent up and
down.
VINCENT
What do you think?
GERMAN
(shrugs)
I think I could do something
(glancing to the text
book)
provided you know what you're
doing
and you can meet the terms.
Vincent pulls a plastic e-money card from
his overalls.
GERMAN
You got a photo of yourself?
Vincent produces a snapshot of himself -
torn from the family
portrait.
German feeds the snapshot into the pocket-sized
computer he carries. The picture is instantly scanned and
appears on the computer's small color
screen. German returns
the photograph and hastily departs.
CAESAR, the elderly janitor, notices
German's exit.
CAESAR
(to Vincent)
I thought I told you not to get
any ideas.
High up the side of a building, washing
windows, VINCENT pauses
occasionally to practice typing commands
on his cardboard keys -
viewing a screen in his imagination - or
the nightsky itself.
He hears his name being called.
GERMAN
Vincent...Vincent...
VINCENT
(staring through his glasses)
German, is that you?
GERMAN
Vincent, come down. I've found him.
INT.
IN-VALID HOUSING PROJECT. NIGHT.
GERMAN leads VINCENT through a maze of
corridors.
JEROME (VO)
For the genetically superior,
success
is easier to attain but is by no
means
guaranteed. After all, there is no gene
for fate. And when, for one reason or
another, a member of the elite
falls on
hard times, their genetic
identity becomes
a valued commodity for the
unscrupulous.
One man's loss is another man's
gain.
He gives a conspiratorial nod to another
passing DNA BROKER,
both men carrying their palm-top
computers.
GERMAN
(enthusiastically reading
from data on
his portable screen as he
walks)
He has the heart of an ox. He could run
through a Goddamn wall--if he
could still run.
Actually, he was a big college
swimming star.
VINCENT
I hope he's not just a body.
GERMAN
No problem. Before he dropped out he was
an honor student, the right
majors--
VINCENT
How do I square the accident?
GERMAN
(still reading data from
his
palm-top computer)
It happened in Australasia. He checked
in yesterday. No family complications, no
record he ever broke his
neck. As far as
anybody's concerned, he's still a
walking,
talking, fully-productive member
of society.
You just have to get him off the
pipe and
fill in the last two years of his
life.
(correcting himself)
Excuse me, your life.
German has stopped walking as if they have
arrived.
VINCENT
(looking around for a
likely
candidate but finding
none)
Where is he?
German reaches towards a PARAPLEGIC
sitting in his wheelchair
in the stairwell directly in front of
them, his head slumped, an
incriminating bong nestled in his
lap. German pulls the man's
head up by the hair. EUGENE.
Depsite the patchy, unkempt
beard and thick glaze over his eyes he
bears a striking
similarity to Vincent. Vincent holds a mirror beside the face
of the lethargic Eugene to compare his own
reflection.
GERMAN
(smiling confidently
What did I tell you? Which one's the mirror?
VINCENT
(still not fully
convinced)
That's the hair color in his
profile?
German checks an entry in his computer: "HAIR: BLONDE"
GERMAN
Yeah.
VINCENT
(touching his own dark
strands)
I'd have to bleach my hair.
GERMAN
(irritated, impatient)
Why are you inventing
problems? You two
are a couple of goddam clones. You
look
so right together, I want to
double my fee.
VINCENT
(a thought occurs, addressing the
paraplegic for the first
time)
How tall are you?
EUGENE
(deadpan)
Four foot six.
Vincent grins, realizing that Eugene is
referring to his seated
height.
There is an instant connection between the two men.
VINCENT
Okay, how tall did you used
to be?
EUGENE
(apathetic, still under
the
influence of whatever
he's been smoking)
Six one.
VINCENT
(to German, disappointed)
He's too tall.
GERMAN
(shrugs)
You can wear lifts.
VINCENT
Even with lifts I'm never that
tall.
GERMAN
There's a way.
INT.
BACKSTREET SURGERY. NIGHT.
In a primitive operating theatre, VINCENT
lies on a table, his
lower legs masked off for surgery. The SURGEON switches on a
surgical saw and lines it up with handdrawn incision marks.
Metal struts are ready to elongate his
legs.
INT.
IN-VALID HOUSING PROJECT - APARTMENT.
DAY.
GERMAN wheels the dazed EUGENE into the
apartment, cluttered
with space paraphenalia. One wheel of his rusting wheelchair is
flimsily held on with wire. VINCENT follows behind on crutches,
both lower legs in casts and
cross-braces. Vincent signs the
contract German puts in front of him.
EXT.
STREET OUTSIDE A BAR. DAY.
EUGENE, glassy-eyed, strides out of a bar,
past camera and into
the street. We hear a squeal of brakes and a sickening
thud.
INT.
HOUSING PROJECT - APARTMENT. DAY.
EUGENE awakens with a scream, bathed in
sweat, arms bound to a
bed - the only real piece of furniture in
the room. VINCENT,
sitting on a crate beside him, soaking a towel
in a bowl of
water, is taken by surprise. Eugene continues to scream and
thrash, fighting against his
bindings. Vincent stuffs the towel
into Eugene's mouth and holds onto his
arms.
JEROME (VO)
I confess, at first I wondered if I had
rescued
a man who was already dead.
INT.
HOUSING PROJECT - APARTMENT - BATHROOM.
NIGHT.
VINCENT holds EUGENE's head over the
toilet bowl as he vomits
violently.
Eugene's paralysis and Vincent's broken legs make
the operation doubly difficult.
Finally Eugene has nothing left in his
stomach to vomit. He
drops to the floor in exhaustion. Vincent, also exhausted from
the effort of holding Eugene over the
bowl, joins him on the
broken linoleum. Both men stare up at the ceiling that carries
a map of the constellation.
VINCENT
You okay, Jerome?
EUGENE
(ironically referring to
their mutual immobility)
Yeah. You want to go dancing tonight?
Vincent smiles.
INT.
HOUSING PROJECT - APARTMENT.
NIGHT.
EUGENE turns his nose up at the plate of
boiled meat and
potatoes that VINCENT puts in front of
him. Vincent catches the
look.
VINCENT
What's wrong with it?
EUGENE
I think I'd better choose the
menu. After all,
you're learning how to be me, I'm
not learning
how to be you.
VINCENT
(shrugs)
Suit yourself.
EUGENE
(trying to be more
diplomatic)
Listen, I don't want you to think
I'm ungrateful
--I know you and that little
broker--what do you
call him?
VINCENT
German.
EUGENE
You're both going to a lot of trouble--
(trying to be tactful)
Maybe you can con somebody into
believing
you're me to get your foot in the
door--but
once you're inside, you're on
your own. I'm
sure you're sincere...
(glancing to the space paraphenalia)
...but I was being groomed for
something like
this myself. Even without the accident I don't
think I would have made it. My point is--how the
hell do you expect to pull
this off?
Jerome merely stares back as if the
thought of failure has never
occurred to him.
VINCENT
(shrugs and states it simply)
I don't know exactly, Jerome.
EUGENE
(laughing)
At least you're honest.
(a thought occurs)
Call me by my middle
name--Eugene--If you're
going to be Jerome, you may as
well start
getting used to it.
NB:
FOR THE REMAINDER OF THE SCREENPLAY "VINCENT" IS REFERRED
TO AS "JEROME".
INT. HOUSING PROJECT - APARTMENT. NIGHT.
JEROME looks through Eugene's personal
effects, including a
photograph album. He is drawn to a swimming medal inside the
album at a page displaying a photo of a
wealthy, austere
MOTHER - Eugene evidently comes from
money.
Even as he wheels into the room in his
rickety wheelchair we see
that EUGENE has the bearing of someone of
good breeding. He has
a bag of blood on his lap. More blood is being drawn from his
arm through an IV. Eugene catches Jerome looking at the album.
JEROME
(guiltily closing the
book)
I have to know where you come
from.
EUGENE
If anybody asks, tell them the
truth--
your family disowns you. You are a
disappointment, Jerome.
JEROME
(referring to Eugene's
medal, impressed)
What about this?
EUGENE
Wrong color. It's silver.
(tossing the bag of blood to Jerome)
It's not easy living up to this.
Eugene wheels away.
INT.
HOUSING PROJECT - APARTMENT. DAY.
JEROME practises
writing with his right hand, trying to
replicate Eugene's signature.
EUGENE
(wheeling by, looking
over Jerome's
shoulder at the
signature)
It needs work.
JEROME
(rueful)
You had to be a right-hander.
EUGENE
Noone
orders southpaws anymore.
INT.
HOUSING PROJECT - APARTMENT. DAY.
A pair of spectacles lie on the bed. JEROME, still wearing his
twin casts, sits behind an optometrist's
portable examining
device.
GERMAN hovering in the background, an OPTOMETRIST
custom-fits JEROME with gossamer thin
contact lenses.
JEROME (VO)
Myopia is a dead giveaway - one
of the earliest
and most justifiable of the
quality-of-life
corrections. Anybody with impaired vision is
certain to be suffering from all
the other
deficiencies of a "nonadvantaged" birth.
GERMAN
(inspecting the lens in
Jerome's eye)
It's no good. I can see an edge. He may as
well walk in there with a cane.
INT.
HOUSING PROJECT - APARTMENT. DAY.
The Optometrist has been replaced in the
living room with a
BLACK MARKET DENTIST who bonds JEROME's
small, gapped teeth to
match EUGENE's perfectly straight, white
picket fences.
INT.
HOUSING PROJECT - APARTMENT. DAY.
Hair already bleached and cut to match
Eugene's hairstyle,
JEROME sits in a chair against a hastily
erected white paper
backdrop.
From his wheelchair, EUGENE puts the finishing
touches to Jerome's hair. He wheels himself out of the way.
The final accomplice in Jerome's
deception, a BLACK MARKET
COMPUTER GRAPHICS DESIGNER, takes Jerome's
photo with a video
camera.
Manipulating the captured image, the Designer morphs
Jerome's face into the face of
Eugene. The resulting photo that
spits out of a printer is neither one nor
the other but an
acceptable combination of the two.
INT.
HOUSING PROJECT - APARTMENT. DAY.
EUGENE is starting to prepare Jerome's
specimen bags for the
first time. He winces in pain as he plucks several hairs
from
his head.
JEROME, now out of his casts, prepares job
applications.
EUGENE
(still grimacing,
referring to the follicles)
You really need that much?
JEROME
More than that. You'll get used to it.
EUGENE
(yanking out another
hair)
God, what wouldn't you do
to leave the planet?
JEROME
(inspecting a hair follicle)
Leave? Just a few million years ago every atom in
this hair--in our bodies--was a
part of a star.
I don't see it as leaving. I see it as going home.
EUGENE
(marvelling
at Jerome's earnestness)
God, you're serious, aren't you?
Jerome ignores him. Having learnt his lesson, he hands the
envelopes to EUGENE to lick the flaps.
INT.
HOUSING PROJECT - APARTMENT. DAY.
JEROME is doing a late-minute cram on a
geriatric computer from
the late 1990's. Checking the time, Jerome hurriedly picks up
the shirt that EUGENE has been ironing
from a prone position on
the floor.
JEROME
It's not too late to back out.
EUGENE
You don't know what a relief it
is not to
be me. Are you sure you want the job?
Jerome contemplates the question for a moment.
JEROME
What about you? What's in this for you, Eugene?
EUGENE
(referring to the bladder
bag he wears)
Listen, I bag this stuff
anyway. It may
as well pay my rent.
Jerome hurrise
to the bathroom where, with some difficulty, he
inserts his urine device for the first
time. The new improved
Jerome emerges into the living room ready
for his interview.
INT.
GATTACA CORPORATION - TESTING LAB.
DAY.
JEROME emerges from a bathroom and hands a
TECHNICIAN his
plastic cup full of fraudulent urine and
inserts it into the
analyzer.
TECHNICIAN
(reading off the profile)
Congratulations.
JEROME
(perplexed)
What about the interview?
TECHNICIAN
(referring to the cup)
That was it.
EXT.
GATTACA. DAY.
JEROME, scarcely able to disguise his
delight, exits Gattaca,
trying not to stare at the superb
specimens who are now his
"colleagues".
JEROME (VO)
The majority of people are now
made-to-order.
What began as a means to rid
society of
inheritable diseases has become a
way to design
your offspring--the line between
health and
enhancement blurred forever. Eyes can always be
brighter, a voice purer, a mind
sharper, a body
stronger, a life longer. Everyone seeks to give
their child the best chance but
the most skilled
geneticists are only accessible
to the priveleged few.
In a nearby park MODEL CHILDREN from MODEL
PARENTS play
together.
JEROME (VO)
Anyone who is the product of an
altered
DNA is proudly referred to as a
"DAN",
"self-made man or
woman", "man-child".
INT.
HOUSING PROJECT - APARTMENT.
NIGHT.
JEROME wheels EUGENE out of their housing
project. He takes in
the neighborhood for the last time. We focus on a POOR COUPLE
cradling an INFANT.
JEROME (VO)
Those parents who, for moral or,
more likely
economic reasons, refrain from
tampering with
their offspring's genetic makeup
or who fail
to abort a deprived fetus condemn
their children
to a life of routine
discrimination.
We glimpse other PEOPLE in the
neighborhood. They appear poor
but, for the most part, physically
normal. However a pall of
gloom hangs over them.
JEROME (VO)
Officially they are called
"In-Valids"*. Also
known as "godchildren",
"men-of-god", "faith births",
"blackjack births",
"deficients", "defectives",
"genojunk",
"ge-gnomes", "the fucked-up
people".
[* "IN-VALID" pronounced as in
"an invalid license"]
JEROME (VO)
They are the "healthy
ill". They don't
actually have anything yet - they
may never.
But since few of the
pre-conditions can be
cured or reversed, it is easier
to treat them
as if they were already sick.
As they enter a car, driven by GERMAN,
Jerome spies a beautiful
young GIRL, 11, sitting on the steps of
the housing project,
staring forlornly into space. While there is no outward sign of
any deficiency, she is somehow aware that
she is damaged goods.
Jerome glances in the rearview mirror.
JEROME (VO)
By means of a donor I have
cheated the
system for the last four years to
open doors
that would otherwise be closed to
me.
Jerome wheels Eugene into the palatial
condominium complex where
the two men now reside.
INT.
GATTACA. PRESENT DAY.
We return to JEROME's reflection in the
glass. Other GATTACA
EMPLOYEES are gradually gathering behind
him.
JEROME (VO)
In the guise of Jerome Morror I have risen
quickly through the ranks of Gattaca. Only one
of the Mission Directors has ever
come close
to discovering my true identity.
We now see what Jerome has been gazing at
through the window
the whole time - the sight that has
brought a hush to the
complex.
Through an open office door lies the body of a large
man - the MURDERED DIRECTOR, lying where
he has just been
discovered, in a pool of his own blood.
JEROME (VO)
Strange to think, he may have more success
exposing me in death than he did
in life.
Jerome wipes his eye and also goes to
investigate. We focus on
an extreme close up of his EYELASH. Loosened by Jerome's hand,
it breaks free and floats gently down to
the floor where it
comes to rest.
INT.
GATTACA AEROSPACE CORPORATION.
MORNING.
DETECTIVE HUGO, late-forties, wearing a
crime-scene hygenic suit
and gloves and a full clear mask - looking
more like a surgeon
or a toxic waste worker than a detective -
places a blood-
spattered computer keyboard alongside the
Director's shattered
skull.
The indentations match the blunt corner of the keyboard.
Hugo detaches the dangling keyboard from
its parent computer and
seals the likely murder weapon in a
marked, transparent plastic
bag.
A CREW of similarly-suited homicide
detectives systematically
vacuum the surrounding office area with
metallic, industrial-
looking mini-vacs. Once each work space has been vacuumed, the
transparent plastic vacuum bag is
detached, sealed and labelled.
OTHER DETECTIVES video the scene with
camcorders. Video prints
spit out of the cameras for instant
inspection.
EXT.
GATTACA - LANDSCAPED GARDENS.
DAY.
A silicon police tape cordons off the
crime scene. From the
landscaped garden, a crowd of GATTACA
EMPLOYEES view the
proceedings through the glass walls.
EMPLOYEE 1
(staring at the Director's body)
Awful.
EMPLOYEE 2
Yeah, awful it didn't happen sooner.
Nervous smirks from nearby employees. We focus on JEROME.
Standing slightly apart from the others,
he does not appear to
share the joke, or perhaps even hear
it. Jerome watches, wide-
eyed, as a DETECTIVE approaches his work
station with a mini-
vac.
A chill goes through Jerome as the detective's cleaner
passes over his desk.
Jerome is distracted by a smear on the
window, obstructing his
view.
Without thinking, he breathes on the glass and rubs the
smear away with his elbow. Nearby, elderly janitor, CAESAR
notices Jerome's fastidious act and reads
the panic in Jerome's
eyes.
DIRECTOR JOSEF suddenly appears at Jerome's shoulder.
Standing a pace behind the Director,
computer notepad in hand,
is IRENE.
DIRECTOR JOSEF
You're lucky to be getting out of
this.
JEROME
We're still going ahead as
planned?
DIRECTOR JOSEF
The launch window is only open
until week's
end. Tragic though this event may be, it
hasn't stopped the planets turning.
He glances towards a group of Detectives
headed by HUGO.
DIRECTOR JOSEF
You'll have to excuse me,
Jerome. I have to
meet with the authorities--naturally,
we're
co-operating in any way, although
I won't
tolerate a major disruption.
(as he departs)
I wish I was going with you,
Jerome.
As the pair depart, Jerome and Irene
exchange a glance. Irene
is also aware of Jerome's unease.
INT.
GATTACA - CORRIDOR. DAY.
We focus on JEROME's eyelash, still lying
on the floor.
A huge crescent-shaped hair that fills the
screen. Suddenly
there is a roar of a mini-vac and the eyelash is sucked up. We
follow the eyelash's journey, down the
throat of the cleaner
into the specimen bag where it is sucked
against the bag's
clear, plastic wall.
INT.
GATTACA - COMPUTER COMPLEX. DAY.
The DIRECTOR's corpse is sealed in a
plastic bodybag and wheeled
away on a gurney. The blood and other body matter from the
murder scene is sucked up by a portable
wet-vac and the sample
bag appropriately labeled.
EXT.
GATTACA - COURTYARD CAFETERIA.
DAY
A chime sounds over the P.A. follwed by an announcement.
ANNOUNCER (OC)
Thank you for your
co-operation. Please
return to your work stations
immediately.
The PROGRAMMERS get to their feet en masse
and begin filing into
the work room.
EMPLOYEE 3
(sarcastic aside)
What, no counselling?
INT.
GATTACA COMPUTER COMPLEX - DIRECTOR'S OFFICE. DAY.
A WOMAN ASSISTANT whose keyboard was used
in the attack has to
pause as a MAINTENANCE WORKER gives her
work station a final
spray to return it to its former pristine
condition. A new
keyboard is plugged into her monitor to
replace the one taken as
evidence.
INT.
GATTACA COMPUTER COMPLEX. DAY.
JEROME opens his desk drawer to check his
comb, now plucked
completely clean. He carefully places two of Eugene's hairs to
the comb and scatters another bag of
fraudulent matter around
his work station.
INT.
GATTACA - SIMULATOR ROOM. DAY.
In a large, bare room a simulator does a
slow dance back and
forth on its hydralic
legs, miming the path of the space
craft Jerome will soon be aboard. The simulation ends and
JEROME exits the simulator through a small
door. IRENE
hesitantly approaches, carrying a slim
electronic tablet.
IRENE
Excuse me, Jerome. I'm sorry to bother you.
Jerome turns, not displeased by the
interruption.
JEROME
No bother.
IRENE
(referring to her
notepad)
I've been asked to compile a log
for the
investigators--they want to know
everyone's
whereabouts last night.
JEROME
Last night? I was at home.
Irene makes a note with her stylus.
IRENE
Can that be, er,
verified? Were you alone?
JEROME
No it can't be verified. Yes I was alone.
Irene makes another note.
JEROME
(wry smile)
Looks bad, doesn't it, Irene? What about
you? Where were you last night?
IRENE
I was at home.
JEROME
Were you alone?
IRENE
(hesitant)
Yes.
JEROME
(teasing)
So we don't know for sure about
you, either.
IRENE
(wary, wondering where
the
conversation is headed)
No.
JEROME
Why don't we say we were
together?
IRENE
(confused)
Why would we do that?
JEROME
I have better things to do this
week than
answer the foolish questions of
some flatfoot.
Don't you?
Irene contemplates the question.
JEROME
(gently pressing)
Well, shall we say we spent the
evening together?
Irene is still unsure whether or not
Jerome is serious.
IRENE
To be convincing, Jerome, I would
have to know
what that was like.
Irene turns and departs. Jerome watches her go.
INT.
EUGENE'S CONDOMINIUM. NIGHT.
The paraplegic EUGENE, seated by the
window, meticulously cuts
a long fingernail into numerous
clippings. He places the
clippings in small plastic bags and seals
them. He then begins
to fill tiny sachets with blood. He turns as he hears JEROME
enter down the spiral staircase with the
groceries.
EUGENE
You didn't forget the truffles?
JEROME places the items in the
refrigerator in the bathroom and
retrieves a bottle of vodka - the vodka
incongruous-looking
beside the blood and urine specimens. Joining Eugene at his
workbench, he pours them both a drink.
EUGENE
(sensing something amiss,
trying
to keep his humor)
Who died?
JEROME
The Mission Director.
EUGENE
(misinterpreting the deadpan remark)
You wish.
JEROME
They found him in his office this
morning--
beaten so bad they had to check
his nametag.
Eugene takes in the news, a smile
broadening across his face.
EUGENE
What an act of benevolence--a
service to the
community. So that's it.
Now there's nothing
between you and ignition.
JEROME
He was still warm when they
confirmed.
EUGENE
(confused by Jerome's
attitude)
This calls for a
celebration. Doesn't it?
JEROME
The place is crawling with
Hoovers.
EUGENE
So what? You didn't kill him, did you?
Jerome shoots him a glance for the
inappropriate remark.
JEROME
That's not the point.
EUGENE
(scoffing)
Hey, how much of you can be
there? Even if the
"J. Edgars" do find
something, in a week--
(glancing up to the night
sky)
you'll be slightly out of their
jurisdiction.
(gently chiding)
Come on, we've got to get drunk
immediately.
JEROME
(still tempering Eugene's
enthusiasm)
You're going to have to earn your
supper. I've got
my final physical tomorrow.
Jerome wheels Eugene's chair to a
specially constructed platform
that allows the wheels to spin in
mid-air. Jerome tapes an
electrode to Eugene's chest and attaches
the wire to a slim
recording device. Eugene begins to spin the wheel of the chair
faster and faster. Jerome monitors Eugene's steady heartbeat
through a set of headphones.
INT.
GATTACA AEROSPACE CORPORATION - COMPUTER COMPLEX. NIGHT.
The complex is virtually empty - only a
handful of the hundreds
of PROGRAMMERS working late into the
night. IRENE approaches
JEROME's work station on the pretext of
delivering some
documents.
Trying to act casually, she looks under the papers
on his desk, then opens the top desk
drawer.
We see an EXTREME CLOSE UP of the comb
lying there - the two
hairs trapped between the teeth of the
comb. Irene removes one
of the follicles and drops it into an
envelope she is carrying.
INT.
24-HOUR SEQUENCING LAB. NIGHT.
"SEQUENCING-WHILE-U-WAIT". Similar to a 1-hour photo lab, the
store - little more than a booth -
displays a price list on the
wall.
"FULL SEQUENCE - $80".
IRENE waits in line with a cross-
section of other CUSTOMERS. She checks the contents of the
envelope that contains the hair.
The YOUNG WOMAN in line ahead of her
allows the TECHNICIAN to
take a swab from her full lips with a
Q-tip.
TECHNICIAN
How old?
YOUNG WOMAN
(confused)
Me?
TECHNICIAN
(mustering patience,
referring
to the Q-tip)
The specimen.
YOUUNG WOMAN
(proudly)
I kissed him five minutes
ago. A real good one.
Overhearing, several PEOPLE in the line
snicker.
TECHNICIAN
(long-suffering)
I'll see what I can do.
The technician hands the swab to an
ASSISTANT. The Young Woman
is handed a number and takes a seat. Irene hands her envelope
over the counter. She too is handed a number. We follow
Jerome's follicle as another TECHNICIAN
places it in an
analyzing machine.
INT/EXT.
SEQUENCING LAB / PARKING LOT.
NIGHT.
The TECHNICIAN returns the envelope to
IRENE along with a
miniature compact disc.
TECHNICIAN
(remarking on the profile
result)
9.4...very nice.
Irene does not appear to share the
technician's enthusiasm.
She emerges from the sequencing lab and enters
her car. Taking
a palm-top computer from her purse, she
inserts the disc into
the computer. Jerome's counterfeit genetic profile appears
on
the screen. The details confirm her worst fears.
EXT.
MICHAEL'S DINNER CLUB. NIGHT.
JEROME and EUGENE, dressed to the nines,
pull up in the car
to a darkened doorway in a poorly lit
street. A VALET appears
out of the shadows. Familiar with the car, he goes immediately
to the trunk to retrieve Eugene's
collapsible wheelchair.
Jerome tips the valet - a credit card
wiped through a device.
INT.
MICHAEL'S DINNER CLUB. NIGHT.
The chic, elegant establishment inside
belies its darkened
exterior.
JEROME wheels EUGENE into a decadent dinner club
full of an odd assortment of people. They are immediately
greeted respectfully by MICHAEL, the owner
and maitre d'.
Jerome and Eugene are obviously regulars.
MICHAEL
Good evening, gentlemen. Your table is ready.
(referring to Jerome's
mission)
Not long now, sir. You'll be upstairs
before you know it. We're going to miss you.
JEROME
Not as much as I'll miss your Stroganoff.
I'd like to take one of your
chefs with me.
INT.
MICHAEL'S DINNER CLUB. NIGHT.
In a secluded booth JEROME and EUGENE
toast from a bottle of
1999 vintage Bordeaux. Eugene drinks longer than Jerome.
Jerome dabs his mouth with a napkin. He fails to notice a
minute FLAKE OF SKIN dislodged from his
chin. We follow the
flake as it comes to rest beneath the
table.
LATER, Eugene and Jerome watch COUPLES
dancing a samba on the
dance floor. A WAITER vacuums the table with a discreet,
handheld miniature vacuum while a WAITRESS
clears the plates.
She accidentally drops a knife onto
Eugene's leg.
WAITRESS
(aghast at the sight of
his lifeless legs)
I'm so sorry. Did I hurt you?
EUGENE
(smiling, a trace of
bitterness)
Honey, if you'd hurt me, I'd be
cured.
Eugene, the worse for drink, gropes for
the waitress's leg but
she easily avoids his clumsy pass.
EUGENE
You want to meet a real-life
spaceman?
Jerome, always aware, scanning the club,
suddenly spies
NAPOLEON, his Gattaca
colleague, on the other side of the
room.
Napoleon is taking a hit from a vial concealed in his
hand.
Jerome abruptly turns his back to avoid being recognized.
JEROME
Let's get out of here.
EUGENE
(knocking back his drink,
misinterpreting the hasty
departure)
You're right, there's more
atmosphere
where you're going.
INT/EXT.
CAR. NIGHT.
Driving along the freeway, Jerome's car
suddenly dives down an
escape road. EUGENE looks sideways at JEROME.
JEROME
You drive.
INT/EXT.
CAR. NIGHT.
The car careens around and around a small
circular building -
a cloud of dust billowing up behind the
car. We focus on a
BRICK wedged against the car's gas pedal.
EUGENE is at the wheel, JEROME in the
passenger seat.
The hard turn is repeated with increasing
recklessness, Eugene
fighting to control the bucking car.
EUGENE
(screaming in both fear
and exhilaration)
I gotta
stop!! I gotta
stop!!
JEROME
Keep going!! Keep going!!
Finally the car spins to a halt in a cloud
of dust. When the
dust settles it is revealed that they have
been circling the
base of a huge satellite dish in a
desolate location.
EXT.
SATELLITE DISH. NIGHT.
EUGENE lies on the hood of the car,
leaning against the
windshield, drinking from a bottle of
vodka. In the
background, the unmanned satellite
dish. JEROME relieves
himself against the building at the base
of the satellite.
EUGENE
(gently chiding Jerome
over the joyride)
You idiot. You could ruin everything
with a stunt like that.
Eugene spies a spacecraft launching from Gattaca city.
EUGENE
(gazing up into the night
sky)
At least up there your piss will
be worth something.
(smiling at the thought)
You'll all be showering in it,
right?
JEROME
(zipping his fly)
And drinking it. It's like Evian by the
time it's filtered.
EUGENE
(referring to the rocket
ship)
What is that one?
Jerome doesn't bother to look in the
direction of the craft but
merely glances to his watch. He joins Eugene on the hood of the
car.
JEROME
(looking at his watch)
11.15 to the port. A maintenance crew.
EUGENE
How long do you stay up there
before you go?
JEROME
A day or so.
EUGENE
(beaming)
I still can't believe they're sending
you to
the Belt--you of all
people--never meant to be
born, on a mission to discover
the origin
of life.
Eugene laughs to himself and passes the
bottle to Jerome.
JEROME
You should be going instead of me.
Jerome taps Eugene's lifeless legs with
his foot.
JEROME
Up there they wouldn't be a
problem.
EUGENE
(glancing heavenwards,
shaking his head)
You know I'm scared of heights.
INT.
CRIME LABORATORY - AUTOPSY ROOM.
NIGHT.
The body and clothing of the MISSION
DIRECTOR, lying on a metal
examining table is scanned with a
blue-light magnifying
instrument. Fingernail specimens are taken for
analysis. In
another area of the laboratory, the labelled vacuum bags are
attached to analyzers and the contents
sucked out and
automatically identified. ID names and photographs of GATTACA
EMPLOYEES begin appearing on a computer
screen at high speed
along with other personal details - all
data automatically
logged for later review.
The photographs and personal details of
JEROME and IRENE flash
past, amongst the faces of other
employees.
We focus on a magnified close up of
JEROME'S EYELASH, still
clinging stubbornly to the side of its
specimen bag. We
continue to follow its journey as it is
finally sucked into the
analyzer.
INT. CRIME LAB - ANALYZER MACHINE. NIGHT.
Inside the machine, a minute, cell-thin
sliver is sliced from
JEROME'S EYELASH and analyzed.
INT.
INVESTIGATOR'S CRIME LAB. NIGHT.
A severed HUMAN TONGUE sits on a tray in a
sterile, sealed
chamber. Using gloves that
protrude through the chamber's glass
wall, face buried in a binocular eyepiece,
the INVESTIGATOR
takes a swab from the tongue.
INVESTIGATOR
(to the tongue, as he inserts
the
tip of the swab into an
analyzer)
Let's see what you've got to say
for yourself.
A FEMALE ASSISTANT, looking on, hardly has
time to smile at the
remark before information begins to appear
on a nearby computer
terminal.
The computer gradually builds a portrait of the owner
of the tongue using genetic
predictors. The Investigator
wanders over to the window as his
Assistant reads the
information from the screen.
ASSISTANT
The tongue is male. Mature.
Blonse hair.
Brown eyes. Light complexion. Between
5'11 and 6'1. Pronounced Caucasian nose.
Thin lips. Weak chin.
Lobeless ears.
Prematurely balding. Slightly bow-legged.
Broad shoulders. Barrel chest...
(pause)
Blind.
INVESTIGATOR
(interest piqued)
Blind?
(mildly amused, checking the
monitor for himself)
The tongue is blind?
ASSISTANT
(confused)
Who cuts out the tongue of a
blind man?
INVESTIGATOR
(shrugs)
Someone who is mindful that the
blind
still speak.
The INVESTIGATOR is alerted by the chime
of his nearby computer.
On the screen, he discovers the face of
20-YEAR-OLD VINCENT
and the accompanying flashing message: TRACKING
IN-VALID
883000181105-10 - NEW DATA -
INT.
CONDOMINIUM COMPLEX - PARKING GARAGE.
NIGHT.
Having plugged his car into an overnight
charger, JEROME pushes
EUGENE in his wheelchair to the
elevator. Bottle in hand,
Eugene leans over and vomits on the
ground. Jerome shakes his
head resignedly. Eugene looks drunkenly up at Jerome.
EUGENE
(sarcastically referring
to the pool of vomit)
I'm sorry. Did you want it?
Jerome meets Eugene's gaze. There is a trace of bitterness
in Eugene's drunken smile.
EUGENE
Let me get it for you.
Eugene bends down to scoop up some vomit
with his hand but the
elevator arrives and Jerome quickly wheels
him away. Eugene's
head flops to the side as he passes out.
INT.
EUGENE'S CONDOMINIUM. NIGHT.
JEROME unlocks EUGENE's condo and wheels
his chair inside. We
see their reflection in a full-length
mirror as Jerome pushes
Eugene to the bedroom. After removing Eugene's soiled clothing,
he heaves the tall man from the chair and
onto the bed.
EUGENE
(maudlin, sobbing like a
child)
I'm sorry. I'm sorry.
JEROME
(attempting to comfort)
It's okay, Eugene.
EUGENE
You know I wasn't drunk--I knew
what I was
doing when I walked in front of
that car--
JEROME
--What car?--Go to sleep.
EUGENE
--I walked right in front of
it. I was never
more sober in my life.
Jerome looks at Eugene's lifeless legs,
trying to cover his
shock at the revelation.
JEROME
It's all right.
EUGENE
(grabbing Jerome by the collar)
I'm proud of you, Vincent.
Eugene's head falls back onto the pillow.
JEROME
(smiling to himself)
You must be drunk to call me
Vincent.
But Eugene does not reply, drifting into
sleep once again.
Jerome pulls a blanket over him.
On the verge of leaving, Jerome's
attention is drawn to a wall
on the far side of the room. Approaching the wall, near
Eugene's mirrored closet, he detects a
faint mechanical whir
coming from inside the adjacent
condominium. Jerome
contemplates investigating but exits the
condominium instead
- climbing the spiral staircase to his own
condominium.
INT.
JEROME'S CONDO - LIVING ROOM.
NIGHT.
JEROME fastidiously vacuums with an
upright cleaner. Using a
hose attachment he cleans around a picture
frame that contains
Jerome's original computer keyboard handdrawn on the flap of a
cardboard box.
INT.
GATTACA - COMPUTER COMPLEX. DAY.
In the vast room of COMPUTER PROGRAMMERS
we pull-focus to
discover that we have been filming the
complex through the
transparent specimen bag containing
JEROME'S EYELASH.
On the mezzanine floor overlooking the
scene of the crime,
the INVESTIGATOR holds the bag, transfixed
by the lash. The
lead homicide detective, DETECTIVE HUGO,
finishes interviewing
a GATTACA SECURITY GUARD and approaches
the Investigator.
A large telescope in the background.
Although Hugo is deferential to his more
youthful superior, his
body language betrays his
displeasure. Hugo clearly does not
relish the Investigator's involvement in
his case.
DETECTIVE HUGO
I don't understand why you were dragged out
here, Sir. It's hardly worth wasting your
time--a no-nothing case like
this.
INVESTIGATOR
(gently rebuking his
subordinate)
A man's dead, Detective.
DETECTIVE HUGO
Of course, Sir. We're checking the entry log,
alibis, grudges...
INVESTIGATOR
Grudges?
DETECTIVE HUGO
(looking out over the
balcony)
I look around, I see a lot of dry
eyes.
The Director was not...
(searching for the words)
...universally loved. He was leading the
cut-backs in the program. You're looking at
a room full of motives.
INVESTIGATOR
(shaking his head
adamantly,
referring to the bag in
his hand)
No, this is your man.
DETECTIVE HUGO
(not so convinced)
With respect, Sir--it may be the
only
unaccountable specimen but the
profile
suggests--
INVESTIGATOR
--What about his profile?
Hugo refers to a print-out of 20-YEAR-OLD
VINCENT's profile
including his Genetic Quotient. (The fifteen-year-old photo of
Vincent now bears little resemblance to
his assumed identity.)
DETECTIVE HUGO
According to this, he's a sick
man. Congenital
heart condition. Who knows how long the specimen
has been here but there's an 80
percent chance
the owner of that eyelash has
already died
himself from natural causes.
INVESTIGATOR
(terse)
So there's a 20 percent chance
he's not dead.
Detective Hugo goes to comment further,
then revises his
remark in his head before speaking.
DETECTIVE HUGO
Even if this Vincent Luca is
alive, is it
likely he could bludgeon a man to
death?
INVESTIGATOR
No. Not likely.
The Investigator's tone suggests that the
identity of the
culprit is no longer a matter for
debate. There is an awkward
pause before the Detective falls into step
with his superior.
DETECTIVE HUGO
I take it you're thinking along
the lines of a
robbery gone sour--a thief
disturbed in the act?
The Investigator merely shrugs.
DETECTIVE HUGO
(skeptical)
Of course that doesn't jibe with
what we
found. This was an angry killing.
INVESTIGATOR
(glancing to the profile
in Hugo's hand)
Who knows with these "deficients"?
His profile
indicates a proclivity for
violence.
DETECTIVE HUGO
(trying to appear
co-operative)
I'll run a crossover on the
eyelash for
any family or associate connections--
INVESTIGATOR
--I've already run it. There's no record
of any living relative.
DETECTIVE HUGO
What a pity.
INVESTIGATOR
(irritated, glancing to
the sample bag)
Detective Hugo, it's a simple
case of lost and
found. All we have to do is locate the man who's
minus an eyelash and this murder
will solve itself.
We focus on JEROME at his work
station. Although he continues
to work, he clrarly
feels the presence of the INVESTIGATORS on
the mezzanine floor behind him.
A MEDICAL DIRECTOR approaches the
programmer in the neighboring
work station - NAPOLEON, the programmer
Jerome encountered in
the nightclub the previous evening.
MEDICAL DIRECTOR
Napoleon, you're late for your
substance test.
Napoleon looks up, ashen-faced. Jerome intervenes.
JEROME
Director, Napoleon's helping me
today.
The Director regards both men
suspiciously.
MEDICAL DIRECTOR
Well, you take it for him,
Jerome.
The Medical Director departs. Napoleon, stunned by the
reprieve, approaches Jerome's work station
and pretends to
study the program on his computer screen.
NAPOLEON
Why did you do that?
JEROME
(exiting to the testing
lab)
Don't worry about it.
INT.
GATTACA - TESTING LAB. DAY.
From behind we observe JEROME standing in
front of LAMAR,
issuing forth his steady stream of
fraudulent urine.
EXT.
GATTACA AEROSPACE CORPORATION - WORKOUT CENTER. DAY.
Twenty GATTACA EMPLOYEES,
identically-outfitted men and women,
run in a perfectly straight line towards
the tranquil lake of
the picturesque grounds, never getting any
closer to their goal.
They run at a steady 10mph on twenty
identical state-of-the-art
treadmill machines sunken into the floor
and arranged in a
uniform row facing a floor to ceiling
window. The strain is
beginning to show on many of the
faces. The heartrate
of each
employee is monitored via a wireless
electrode attached to the
chest.
Outside in the sunshine the next batch of
twenty EMPLOYEES
limbers up in readiness for their
physical. JEROME's only
preparation consists of thoughtfully
dragging on a
cigarette while staring out at the
man-made lake. His
nonchalant attitude disheartens nearby
colleagues, including
IRENE who is amongst a group of workers
excused from the run
by
benevolent, over-protective TRAINERS.
TRAINER
You're excused, Irene. You may resume your duties.
On the way into the work-out facility
Jerome stubs out his
cigarette in a stainless steel ashtray. Only we are aware of
the slim credit card-sized recording
device that he furtively
slips out of his cigarette pack and
secrets in his hand. As he
takes his place on one of the treadmills
and adheres the
cordless electrode to his chest, Jerome
surreptitiously attaches
his device to the underside of the running
machine's control
panel.
INT.
GATTACA - WORK-OUT OBSERVATION ROOM.
DAY.
From a mezzanine floor above the work-out
room, LAMAR, the
medical officer, monitors computer
read-outs displaying the
pace and pulse of the runners on each
treadmill machine.
INT. GATTACA - WORK-OUT CENTER. DAY.
One by one the GATTACA EMPLOYEES drop out
until JEROME is the
sole remaining runner. Several of the other employees stand
around and watch Jerome run as they towel
off.
He appears under little duress, staring
directly ahead,
seemingly in a trance. As we focus on his chest, only we are
aware of the sound of his furiously
pounding heart making a lie
of his calm exterior.
INT.
GATTACA - WORK-OUT OBSERVATION ROOM.
DAY.
Jerome's heart registers a far more
measured beat on the
computer in the observation room. The DIRECTOR is at LAMAR's
shoulder, beaming proudly.
LAMAR
(marveling at Jerome's heartrate)
Six miles later it's still
beating like a
Goddamn metronome. I could play piano by that
heartbeat of his.
The INVESTIGATOR and DETECTIVE HUGO enter
the observation room,
escorted by IRENE.
DETECTIVE HUGO
Director Josef, this is our lead
Investigator.
The two men exchange a polite
handshake. However the
Investigator is immediately taken with the
SOLE RUNNER with his
back to him, on the treadmill below.
INVESTIGATOR
How often do you test, Director?
DIRECTOR JOSEF
Often.
INVESTIGATOR
(intrigued)
Surely you know what you have.
DIRECTOR JOSEF
We have to be certain. Once they're up, we
can hardly turn the boat around.
On the treadmill below, Jerome glances to
his watch as he runs,
the distress starting to show. Caught up in the conversation,
Lamar has forgotten to end the
work-out. Remembering, he
finally presses the "WARM-DOWN"
button, slowing the treadmill.
LAMAR
(still marveling at
Jerome)
I swear if I went to lunch and
came back, he'd
still be there.
We focus on Jerome's recording device
attached to the bottom of
the control panel. It clicks to a stop, indicating that the
bogus heartbeat recording has ended before
the workout.
The heartbeat monitor in the observation
room suddenly races
from 80 to 250 beats per minute. Lamar catches the discrepancy
out of the corner of his eye but before he
can take a second
look, Jerome has whipped his electrode
from his chest. The
physician shrugs it off as a glitch in the
machine.
The Investigator has turned his back on
Jerome to face the
Director.
INVESTIGATOR
We believe we have a suspect.
DIRECTOR JOSEF
What a relief.
INVESTIGATOR
(referring to the profile
of VINCENT
on Hugo's computer
notepad)
This unaccountable specimen was
found in
the south wing corridor.
In the room below, Jerome nonchalantly
steps off the treadmill,
stealthily retrieves the recording device
from beneath the
control panel and returns it to his
cigarette pack.
He casually wipes off drops of sweat from
the machine with a
towel, briefly glances to Irene with the
Investigators and exits
to
the locker room.
The Director idly regards the image of
VINCENT on Hugo's
handheld screen. He does not recognize the face.
DETECTIVE HUGO
An age enhancement is being
prepared as
we speak.
DIRECTOR JOSEF
(referring to his
assistant)
Irene will make it available to
security.
INT.
GATTACA - LOCKER ROOM. DAY.
JEROME wears his assured smile all the way
along the corridor
and into the now empty locker room. He exchanges a cheery
greeting with an exiting
COLLEAGUE, enters a shower stall,
closes the door behind him and promptly
collapses on the shower
stall floor.
The effects of the gruelling
work-out are only now apparent. No
longer sucking up the pain, he gulps air
into his oxygen-starved
lungs, his heart looking for a way through
his tightened chest.
He writhes in
agony on the white-tiled floor - a brutal reminder
of the physical frailty he seeks to
disguise.
EXT.
GATTACA - GARDEN. LUNCHTIME.
In Gattaca's
perfectly landscaped gardens JEROME, dressed and
recovered from his ordeal, joins his
COLLEAGUES for lunch at one
of the umbrella-covered tables. While most of the others pick
at unappetizing salads and take their
individualized medication,
Jerome carries a steak sandwich on his
tray.
The sight of the juicy steak is greeted
with envious looks from
his colleagues. Jerome pretends not to notice and rubs it in
by
liberally sprinkling salt onto the meat.
However when Jerome looks over towards
IRENE, she avoids eye
contact.
When she abruptly gets up and leaves, Jerome follows -
thinking twice before depositing the
napkin in the nearby
trashcan.
A janitor reaches for the napkin.
It is the Old
Janitor, CAESAR, from Jerome's former
life.
CAESAR
I'll take care of that for you, Mr Morrow.
The two men exchange a conspiratorial
smile.
EXT.
GATTACA - WIND FARM. AFTERNOON.
A forest of wind turbines, supplying
energy to the aerospace
complex.
However the blades of the turbines are motionless in
the still afternoon. JEROME finally catches up with IRENE. She
turns, unsurprised by his appearance. Standing beside her, he
looks out over the complex as if he too
has come for the view.
JEROME
(eyes fixed on the view)
We were looking at each other. You stopped.
Irene, also keeps her gaze ahead.
IRENE
I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything.
JEROME
(shrugging as if it makes
no difference to him)
We were just looking.
IRENE
I know about you.
Jerome turns to her, startled, trying to
read her face. Irene
takes a deep breath and abruptly plucks a
long, dark hair from
her head.
IRENE
(offering the hair to
Jerome)
Here, take it.
Jerome, confused, takes the hair - more in
reflex than intent.
IRENE
(a challenge)
If you're still interested, let
me know.
Jerome contemplates the hair in his
fingers for a moment, then
deliberately lets it fall to the grounf.
JEROME
(never taking his eyes from her)
Sorry, the wind caught it.
Irene meets his gaze. There is not a breath of wind. The
hair lies, plainly visible on the ground.
EXT.
GATTACA AEROSPACE COMPLEX.
AFTERNOON.
As JEROME and IRENE walk between the wind
turbines, Jerome
pretends not to notice that Irene keeps
furtively checking the
pulse on her wrist. They pause in the shade.
JEROME
(as if making conversation)
Have they found our friend?
IRENE
Friend?
JEROME
(shrugs)
It was a mercy-killing after all.
IRENE
They found an eyelash.
JEROME
Where?
IRENE
In the South Wing.
JEROME
Does it have a name?
IRENE
Just some In-Valid. Vincent--
(trying to come up with
the last name)
--somebody.
Jerome turns away to disguise his
alarm. He quickly recovers.
JEROME
Perhaps we ought to celebrate,
Irene.
IRENE
(a smile playing around
her lips)
You celebrate, Jerome?
INT.
EUGENE'S CONDO. NIGHT.
EUGENE talks irritably on the phone,
examining a container from
a newly opened case of hair bleach.
EUGENE
(into phone)
--I know what I ordered. I ordered "Honey
Dawn" and you sent me
"Summer Wheat".
JEROME descends the staircase, taking the
steps two at a time.
He immediately goes to the refrigerator,
removing trays of
samples.
Eugene abruptly hangs up the phone.
JEROME (OC)
Call German.
EUGENE
Any particular reason?
JEROME
(collecting up sample
bags from
the work bench)
We can't stay here.
EUGENE
What are you talking about?
JEROME
They think I offed
the Director.
Eugene wheels himself over to Jerome,
unconcerned.
EUGENE
What makes them think that?
JEROME
They found my eyelash.
EUGENE
(a flicker of anxiety)
Where?
JEROME
In a corridor.
EUGENE
(blasÈ
once again)
Could be worse. They could have found
it in your eye.
Jerome half-smiles despite the situation.
JEROME
(resuming his collection
of samples)
Come on--we're taking off.
EUGENE
I'm not going anywhere. Less than a week to go.
Not on your life--
JEROME
--You don't understand, they'll
make the
connection, they'll hoover again. We
should
cut our losses.
EUGENE
(angrily grabbing a tray
from Jerome's hands)
Where is your head, Jerome? You're acting
like a guilty man. They won't marry the eyelash
to you. They won't believe that one of their
elite navigators could have
suckered them for the
last five years.
JEROME
They'll recognize me.
EUGENE
(scoffing)
How could they recognize you?
(referring to the torn
photo of
20-year-old Vincent on
the wall)
I don't recognize
you. Anyway, you don't have a
choice. You run, you may as well sign a confession,
turn us both in right now. No, we stick this out--
find out what we can but change
nothing. This is
a minor inconvenience is all it
is. We've taken
worse heat than this.
(angry now)
Jesus, if I'd known you were
going to go
belly up on me at the last
fucking gasp, I
wouldn't have bothered. You can't quit on me
now. I've put too much into this.
(returning the samples to
the fridge)
Besides, this stuff is mine. I had other offers,
you know. I could have rented myself out to
somebody with a spine. You want me to wheel in
there and finish the job myself?
(meeting Jerome's gaze)
We'll take off all right, from
pad 18 just like
we planned.
Jerome slumps down in a chair, Eugene's
tirade starting to get
to him.
EUGENE
And keep your lashes on your lids
where
they belong. How could you be so careless?
JEROME
I'm sorry.
(reluctant admission)
I think I was crying.
Eugene is uncomfortable at the notion.
EUGENE
Well save those tears.
Jerome shrugs awkwardly and pours them both
a drink.
JEROME
You really had other offers?
EUGENE
(shrugs)
I'm sure I could have.
INT. CONDOMINIUM - INCINERATOR. NIGHT.
The naked JEROME scrapes away at his skin
with even greater
ferocity than usual. After exiting the incinerator, he deposits
all the incriminating trash he has
collected during the day into
the furnace and ignites the gas.
INT.
EUGENE'S CONDOMINIUM. NIGHT.
From outside, a car horn sounds. JEROME, in a formal suit and
spectacles, abruptly enters the
condominium. He goes to a
closet and starts searching through
Eugene's clothes.
JEROME
Mind if I borrow a tie?
EUGENE is more interested in the car
parked outside the
condominium. IRENE sits in a convertible Citroen DS,
dressed in
a classic but provocative black suit. Unaware that she is being
observed she touches up her lipstick in
the rearview mirror.
EUGENE
So it's not just the Hoovers
who've got
you rattled.
JEROME
You're the one who said not to
change anything.
She's my ear to the
investigation.
EUGENE
(skeptical)
Is that all?
JEROME
I've got enough on my mind
without that.
EUGENE
If you say so.
(referring to the ties in
Jerome's hand)
The stripe.
JEROME
(agreeing with the
selection)
Good choice.
Jerome fumbles with the knot. From his chair, Eugene knots
Jerome's tie for him. Jerome is intrigued that for once Eugene
is abstaining - he has not touched his
drink.
JEROME
Not thirsty?
(referring to the fridge)
We've got enough virgin samples
to last us the week.
EUGENE
I don't feel too good. I think I'm still
drunk from last night.
JEROME
Never stopped you before.
(regarding Eugene's head)
And for God's sake stop plucking
your hair.
Someone went to a lot of trouble
to make sure
you wouldn't go bald.
EUGENE
If I were you I'd worry about
myself.
(nodding to Jerome's
spectacles)
Haven't you forgotten something?
Jerome pockets the spectacles and enters
the bathroom for his
contact lenses. The horn sounds outside the window a second
time and Jerome hastily exits. We stay with Eugene. Irene
catches a glimpse of him before he moves
away from the window.
Jerome emerges from the building.
As the couple drive away, Eugene wheels
himself to the full
length mirror. He regards his own reflection for a moment
and
opens the mirror - a disguised door
opening into the adjacent
apartment.
A cloud of condensed water vapor billows out.
GERMAN, the DNA Broker, emerges with an
ENGINEER.
He sends the engineer on his way and joins
Eugene at his desk.
Eugene hands German a credit card that he
wipes through his
computer.
GERMAN
We still need to overhaul the
back-up generator.
(fixing Eugene with a
penetrating stare)
What's going on, Eugene, I
thought he was going
away, not you--you going on
vacation?
EUGENE
(looking away)
You got it, German.
GERMAN
(nodding thoughtfully)
You deserve it.
INT. CONCERT HALL - AUDITORIUM. NIGHT.
JEROME and IRENE step over feet,
apologizing as they go,
eventually finding their seats in a box in
a sold-out concert
hall.
On the stage below, a YOUNG PIANIST - a
teenage prodigy - has
already taken his place at the keys of a
grand piano. The
pianist removes his white gloves and
begins to play - an
extremely complex and beautiful piece we
have never heard
before.
IRENE looks to JEROME. He is
clearly caught up in the
music.
EXT.
IN-VALID HOUSING PROJECT. NIGHT.
The music from the piano recital continues
under the following
contrasting action. A huge, brooding housing project. PEOPLE
hang around on street corners. Menace in the air - a feeling of
impending violence.
Suddenly unmarked police cars appear from
all directions,
blocking any escape route. Dozens of PLAINCLOTHES DETECTIVES
pour out of the cars and onto the street.
People scatter, many running straight into
the arms of the
Detectives. OTHERS, spilling out of the housing project,
are
also immediately apprehended.
The Detectives quickly weed out those
suspects not fitting
Jerome's description - WOMEN, OLD MEN and
TEENAGERS. They are
shepherded off the street. A line of IN-VALIDS is formed
several hundred yards long. Detectives begin to laboriously
move along the line, taking finger-prick
blood samples from each
suspect - instantly confirming their
identities with portable
analyzers worn on their hips.
As if having the idea at the same time,
TWO SEPARATE MEN
suddenly bolt from the line, knowing that
their blood will
incriminate them. Other Detectives, watching for such escape
attempts, esaily
apprehend them and escort them to a waiting
police van.
With the raid under control, DETECTIVE
HUGO indicates to the
INVESTIGATOR that it is safe to exit his
car. The Investigator
appears irritated, only half-glancing at
the TWO MEN already in
custody, apparently certain that neither
one is his suspect.
DETECTIVE HUGO
(enthusiastic)
Not our fish, but sometihng stuck in the net.
The Investigator clearly does not share
Hugo's enthusiasm. The
Detective offers the Investigator an age
enhanced photograph,
computer-generated from the last existing
photo of VINCENT as
a 20-year-old.
DETECTIVE HUGO
This is the age enhancement we're
working with.
The Investigator ignores the photo,
preferring instead to trust
his own eye as he wanders along the line
of suspects.
DETECTIVE HUGO
(referring to the
line-up)
As you requested, we've kept the
parameters
wider than usual.
The MEN they scrutinize are hardly mutants
- the differences
between an IN-VALID and a DAN are subtle
at best. Some shorter,
some wearing glasses, some with receding
hairlines or bald, many
with no discernable physical difference at
all. The
Investigator is only halfway down the line
before he turns and
starts walking back to his car.
The mystified Detective Hugo follows his
superior.
INVESTIGATOR
We're in the wrong place. We're wasting time.
DETECTIVE HUGO
This is the most likely
location--
The Investigator wheels on Hugo, suddenly
angry, clearly unused
to having his judgement
questioned.
INVESTIGATOR
--There's that word again. I have a feeling
This man doesn't play the odds,
Detective. Not
exactly a slave to
probability. Is it "likely"
that a man who has successfully
eluded authorities for
fifteen years--a brutal
killer--is going to come
to us now like a lamb?
DETECTIVE HUGO
(taken aback by the
outburst)
Is there something more we should
know about this
suspect, Sir? I mean besides what's on his sheet.
INVESTIGATOR
Since going underground, traces
of this In-Valid
have shown up at the scene of
four serious
felonies. Do you need any more than that?
DETECTIVE HUGO
With respect, Sir, many perfectly
innocent
citizens have left specimens at
as many crime
scenes. Maybe he's just unlucky.
INVESTIGATOR
I don't like anybody this
unlucky.
(pause)
Widen the sweep. The West side. Draw a five mile
radius around Gattaca. Hoover some of the classier
establishments. Random car stops.
DETECTIVE HUGO
We're already getting complaints
about
frivolous search.
INVESTIGATOR
This is a murder
investigation. The public
should be happy to co-operate, to
get this
disease off the streets.
INT.
CONCERT HALL. NIGHT.
A standing ovation. The YOUNG PIANIST on the stage bows deeply,
soaking up the applause of the
AUDIENCE. The pianist tosses one
of his white gloves into the front row
where it is caught by an
adoring FAN. The second glove he tosses up to the box
where
JEROME and IRENE are standing. Jerome snares the glove out of
the air and immediately hands it to
Irene. She promptly slips
the glove on her own hand.
The glove fits snugly over her five
fingers. However one finger
of the glove remains unfilled. Jerome is stunned to realize
that it is a six-fingered glove.
IRENE
(catching his look of
astonishment)
You didn't know?
JEROME
(trying hard to convince)
Yes...yes...
IRENE
(picking up a resentment,
confused)
You're angry--
JEROME
Why would I be angry? It was beautiful.
He quickly turns away to lead the applause. On stage, the
pianist raises his hands to acknowledge
the crowd. Both his
hands contain a perfectly formed extra
finger.
INT.
IN-VALID HOUSING PROJECT - PROSTITUTE'S BOUDOIR. NIGHT.
From an upstairs window we observe the
INVESTIGATOR's car
cruise slowly back into the squalid
housing project. A MAN is
buckling his pants at the window.
JOHN
Shit! One of those Hoovers is back.
A prostitute, VALERIE, a slender,
sylphlike beauty, joins him at
the window.
VALERIE
It's alright. He's here to see me.
Her client looks at her askance. Despite her assurances, he
hurries into his clothes anyway.
VALERIE
(to an unseen woman in
the next room)
Sonja, I can't see anyone else
tonight.
INT.
IN-VALID HOUSING PROJECT - PROSTITUTE'S BOUDOIR. NIGHT.
The INVESTIGATOR, sits up in the bed,
glass in his hand.
VALERIE lies on the tangled sheets, naked, making no effort to
cover herself. She regards the Investigator curiously.
VALERIE
I don't understand you,
Investigator.
The Investigator glances idly in her
direction.
VALERIE
(teasing good-naturedly)
You hunt us by day and fuck us by
night. Do
you only get it up for In-valids?
The Investigator smiles and rejoins her on
the bed.
VALERIE
Wouldn't you be happier with one
of your
made-to-order whores?
INVESTIGATOR
(gently stroking her
hair)
You are so beautiful, are you
sure you weren't
altered? This is not the face, the body, of
a Godchild. How could something so lovely
be a product of chance?
VALERIE
Is that what keeps you coming
back?
(meeting his gaze)
Look at you. Such angry, beautiful, perfect eyes.
Do you ever wonder what they
would see if they
weren't quite so perfect? They will never see
what I see.
The Investigator tries to laugh off her
assertion but his
tight-lipped smile betrays his
displeasure.
INVESTIGATOR
(a cruel edge to his
voice)
You have so much wrong with you,
you'll
be lucky to see next year.
He roughly forces himself on top of her
but she remains defiant.
VALERIE
Are you so much more alive,
Investigator?
INVESTIGATOR
(parting her legs)
I'm not paying you to talk.
INT/EXT.
IRENE'S CAR. NIGHT.
IRENE drives, JEROME at her side. Cars are being flagged down
by uniformed POLICE OFFICERS. Irene slows down behind the car
in front.
Spying an OFFICER shine a flashlight in the eyes of
the MALE DRIVER up ahead, Jerome wipes the
contact lenses from
his eyes and flicks them out of the
passenger window when Irene
is not looking.
An OFFICER approaches Jerome and, without
a word, opens an
electronic testing kit worn on his
hip. He removes a sterilized
Q-tip and motions for Jerome to open his
mouth so he can scrape
a culture.
Jerome waves his hand in front of his mouth,
feigning embarrassment.
JEROME
(conspiratorial)
Better not.
(nodding in Irene's
direction)
Don't want to give you a
contaminated
specimen...if you get my meaning.
IRENE plays along, shrugging coyly at the
cop.
We see an EXTREME CLOSE UP of Jerome's
hand as he furtively
retrieves a hair follicle attached to his
shirt cuff. With the
hair already in his fingers, he pretends
to pluck a hair from
his head, faking a wince at the
appropriate moment.
The cop, wearing transparent latex gloves,
takes the follicle
and places it in a receptacle in his
kit. After a short moment
the hair confirms JEROME's driving ID
which appears on the kit's
electronic screen. As the cop departs, Irene looks
questioningly at Jerome.
JEROME
Thanks.
(answering her unasked
question)
You never know where those swabs
have been.
Irene nods, however clearly not
convinced. She shakes the doubt
from her mind.
IRENE
I want to show you something.
She accelerates away. We see the road ahead from Jerome's POV.
Without his contact lenses, it is a blur.
INT.
MICHAEL'S CLUB. NIGHT.
After closing time, suited DETECTIVES
vacuum the club in which
Jerome and Eugene dined the previous
evening. MICHAEL, the
owner, looks on disdainfully. Waiting in the background, the
regular CLEANERS - most likely In-valids themselves - smirk to
each other, enjoying watching the cops do
their work for them.
EXT.
OCEAN HIGHWAY. NIGHT.
With no place to turn the car around,
IRENE parks on the cliff
side of the six-lane highway. In the darkness she dashes from
the car and, without a second thought,
runs directly out into
the heavy commuter traffic. Easily negotiating the on-coming
cars, she emerges safely on the other side
of the highway.
JEROME, rounding the car from the
passenger side, is about to
follow, when he suddenly pulls up sharply
at the curb. We focus
on his eyes, deprived of the benefit of
their contact lenses.
From Jerome's POV, we see that the
headlights rushing towards
him are nothing but a series of
fast-moving blurs - blurs that
merge together. He is unable to distinguish between the
vehicles or judge their distance.
IRENE
(calling back urgently from the
other side, mindful of
the light
beginning to leak into
the sky)
Come on! We'll miss it!
Irene stares expectantly back at Jerome
with her 20/20 vision,
unaware of his predicament. Jerome puts a foot off the curb at
the wrong moment and is almost collected
by an on-coming car.
Irene is taken-aback at his
mistiming. Does she detect a squint
on Jerome's face? To Jerome, the figure of Irene on the other
side of the highway is merely a
featureless shape but he feels
her expectation. He touches the spectacles, still in his
pocket, but they are an unthinkable
option.
He shakes the idea from his head and turns
back to the swiftly-
flowing highway. He makes up his mind - he cannot allow
himself
to be shamed, even at the risk of life and
limb. Hardly even
glancing at the traffic, he suddenly bolts
blindly across the
road.
Headlights hurtling towards him, cars fortuitously
brushing past his heels, horns
blaring. Jerome makes a final
leap to the haven of the far curb, the
rush of air from a large,
fast-moving truck blowing him the final
inches to the sidewalk.
Irene is stunned by the near miss. She is about to comment but
Jerome takes her by the arm and ushers her
towards the dunes.
JEROME
Come on. We'll miss it.
EXT.
BEACH. DAWN.
JEROME and IRENE huddle beneath an overcoat
as the sun crests
the horizon, staining the sky with an
ochre blush.
IRENE
What did I tell you?
Jerome nods. However, to his eyes the rising yolk is
nothing
but an out-of-focus, abstract ink blot.
IRENE
I envy you, Jerome.
JEROME
You'll be next.
IRENE
I don't think so. The only trip I'll make
in space is around the sun--
(letting a handful of
sand
slip through her fingers)
--on this satellite right here.
Irene turns to Jerome.
IRENE
(blurting out what's
really on her mind)
--Listen, I don't want to waste
your time
and I really don't want
you to waste mine.
I don't know what you're after
but I have
a feeling I'm not it.
Irene suddenly takes Jerome's hand and
puts it up her
sweater, onto her breast. Although taken aback, Jerome makes
no effort to withdraw his hand.
IRENE
(enjoying his unease)
It's here. My heart.
(adding quickly)
I'm careful--weekly
check-ups. I'm on a
drug maintenance program, blood
thinners,
diet--
(slowly removing his
hand)
I just want you to know what
you'd be getting
yourself into.
JEROME
What exactly is wrong?
IRENE
Nothing yet. I'll start experiencing
symptoms in my late-fifties.
(matter-of-fact)
But unless they come up with
something between
now and then, I won't live much
past 67.
Jerome's mouth drops a little, betraying
his surprise at the
statement from a woman plainly still in
her twenties.
IRENE
Of course I think about it every
day.
JEROME
(still not quite
recovered from his surprise)
Of course.
INT.
POOL. MORNING.
The INVESTIGATOR swims his race with the
unseen opponent. The
Investigator's ASSISTANT, carrying a
phone, tries to attract his
attention.
EXT.
JEROME'S POOL. MORNING.
JEROME sits at his own poolside in his
robe, feet dangling over
the edge, smoking a cigarette. EUGENE, from his wheelchair, is
applying bleach to Jerome's hair and
eyebrows with gloved
hands.
At the same time, Jerome plays a
sleight-of-hand game with a
syringe.
EUGENE
How was your evening?
JEROME
Complicated. I couldn't stop her apologizing.
EUGENE
(teasing)
You are a catch. No doubt she's worried that
she would lower the standard of
your offspring.
Everybody wants to "breed
up".
(idly curious)
What's wrong with her?
JEROME
(trying to be blasÈ)
You know how it is with these
altered births
--somebody told her she's not
going to live
forever and she's been preparing
to die ever
since.
EUGENE
You're not thinking of telling
her, are you?
JEROME
Of course not. But she's have to know eventually.
EUGENE
(adamant)
She doesn't have to
know. She doesn't want to know.
The camera travels down Jerome's scarred
legs to find that the
pool is completely drained. We now realize that it never
contained water.
A BARREN WASTELAND.
A desolate landscape, resembling the
surface of the planet Mars.
We pull back to find that we are peering
at this forbidding
desert through a circular aperture.
INT.
CRIME LAB. DAY.
The INVESTIGATOR lifts his head from the
eyepiece of an
electron microscope through which he has
been examining a tiny
fragment of skin - the skin is identified
as belonging to 20-
YEAR-OLD VINCENT. DETECTIVE HUGO stands at the Investigator's
side - his attitude more respectful in
light of the discovery.
Detective Hugo points out a location on a
computer-generated
map.
DETECTIVE HUGO
(chagrined)
The skin flake was found in
Michael's Restaurant.
The employees are all accounted
for.
INVESTIGATOR
A customer? Does this Michael's cater to misfits?
DETECTIVE HUGO
(shifting the view of the
map
to include the Gattaca complex)
No. But one or two "borrowed ladders"
have
shown up there in the past.
The Investigator understands the
significance. They wander over
to a blow-up photograph of the 20-YEAR-OLD
VINCENT.
DETECTIVE HUGO
We have to consider the
possibility that he's
playing somebody else's hand.
A smile gradually broadens across the
Investigator's face.
INVESTIGATOR
(taking a perverse
pleasure in the
slowly dawning
revelation)
Of course. He's a "de-gene-erate".
(glancing to a photo of
the
Gattaca
crime scene)
He works at Gattaca. Why else would we find
the eyelash near the
washroom? Nobody stops to
take a leak during a murder.
DETECTIVE HUGO
(quickly covering
himself)
It's still possible the eyelash
specimen came
from a janitor, delivery man--it
could have blown
in through an open window.
The Investigator appears not to be
listening, his mind made up.
INVESTIGATOR
(mind racing)
He was afraid of being
exposed. That's why he did it.
DETECTIVE HUGO
(puzzled)
It is hard to believe he could be
one of
their elite workers. You've seen their
security system. They know who works there.
(referring to 20-year-old
Vincent's profile)
Even if you ignore the man's
expiration date,
his profile suggests that he
doesn't have the
mathematical propensity let alone
the stamina
to pass their physicals.
INVESTIGATOR
Don't underestimate these
imposters.
DETECTIVE HUGO
(skeptical, referring to a file of
Gattaca
employee ID photos)
None of the ID photos match the
enhancement.
INVESTIGATOR
(smiling to himself)
A man can change his face--but
blood is forever.
Sample every employee within the
parameters I gave you.
(pause)
Intravenous.
Hugo's mouth drops open at the mention of
"intravenous".
DETECTIVE HUGO
(immediately protesting)
You know their workforce. Two-thirds at
least
fall into the category. We'll be
closing down their operation for
days.
(seeking a compromise)
At least go with a fingertip
sample or urine.
INVESTIGATOR
(shaking his head)
Blood. From the vein.
The Investigator turns on his heel to
prevent further protest.
The Detective and his ASSISTANTS exchange
looks of exasperation
behind the Investigator's back.
INT.
GATTACA. DAY.
JEROME, drinking water, stands in front of
a large video
bulletin board. Among other things, it displays the
electronic
mugshot of
20-YEAR-OLD VINCENT alongside the recent computer
generated age enhancement of his face.
Some distance away, CAESAR, the elderly
janitor, discusses the
mugshots with a
YOUNGER JANITOR.
CAESAR
Look like anybody to you?
YOUNGER JANITOR
Not to me.
CAESAR
Ugly sonofabitch
though, isn't he?
Jerome half-smiles, realizing that the
conversation is for his
benefit.
Having made it clear that they do not intend to expose
their former colleague, the two janitors
continue their rounds.
Jerome crushes his paper cup. Forgetting himself, he
drops the cup into the wastebasket.
INT.
CRAFT. DAY.
JEROME familiarizes himself with the
interior of a spacecraft
under the supervision of DIRECTOR JOSEF
and the MISSION
COMMANDER.
The screen that Jerome sits at is identical to the
one he operates in the computer complex -
displaying asteroid
951 Gaspra.
DIRECTOR JOSEF
--Somewhere in the dust of Gaspra is the key.
(warming to his theme)
Back to the beginning of the book--the
life we
became. With the original building blocks who
knows how far we can take
"the godding".
MISSION COMMANDER
(wry smile)
Even someone as advanced as Jerome
will be
last year's model by the time
we're done.
JEROME
(smiling back)
I wouldn't get your hopes up,
Commander.
Irene enters the craft.
IRENE
Excuse me, Mr
Morrow. The investigators have
begun their testing.
DETECTIVE JOSEF
This is so inconvenient,
Irene. They can
make an exception for Jerome.
IRENE
I'm afraid not.
DIRECTOR JOSEF
I apologize, Jerome.
JEROME
It's not yor
fault, Director.
(afterthought)
If your predecessor were still around
we may not be going to Gaspra at all.
That's what I would call
inconvenient.
Jerome exits the craft with Irene.
INT.
GATTACA CORPORATION - CORRIDOR.
DAY.
A line of MALE GATTACA EMPLOYEES snakes
out the door and down
the corridor. The INVESTIGATOR walks slowly down the line,
trying to eyeball his suspect. Concentrating on the shorter,
dark-haired men in the line, he looks
straight past JEROME.
However, as the Investigator ignores him
and walks by, we see a
haunted look in Jerome's eyes.
INT.
GATTACA - TESTING LAB. DAY.
Every available TECHNICIAN is working to
accommodate the testing
of the thousand or so PROGRAMMERS. Twelve testing stations
operate simultaneously. A HOMICIDE DETECTIVE supervises each
station.
JEROME reaches the head of the line.
He notes an
exiting COLLEAGUE holding a cotton ball to
his arm.
A NURSE directs Jerome to LAMAR's testing
station. Lamar
deposits the previous patient's labeled
vial into a blood
carousel under the watchful eye of a large
DETECTIVE, clearly
not relishing his assignment. Jerome rolls up his sleeve.
JEROME
(referring to the table lined with
syringes)
What's with the plungers,
Lamar? What are
you doing, opening a blood bank?
The syringes are clearly not Lamar's idea.
LAMAR
(sarcastic)
The gentlemen of law enforcement
are concerned that
my testing methods may have been
compromised.
Lamar inserts a fresh syringe into
Jerome's arm. As Lamar draws
the blood, Jerome suddenly flinches and
flexes his arm
violently, causing the needle to bend and
buckle, exiting the
skin from a second puncture point.
JEROME
Damn!!
Having pulled away from Lamar's grasp,
Jerome withdraws the bent
needle himself, blood still squirting from
his vein.
LAMAR
(grabbing a nearby wad of
gauze)
Jesus--I'm sorry, Jerome.
The large Homicide Detective winces and
turns away from the red
arcing spray, a splash of blood spattering
his shoes. In the
midst of the commotion, with his practised sleight-of-hand,
Jerome removes the vial from the syringe
and replaces it with
another concealed vial.
JEROME
(unfazed, putting Lamar
at his ease)
You must be out of practise, Lamar.
Lamar hurriedly takes the syringe from
Jerome.
LAMAR
(examining and removing
the
switched vial from the bent
syringe)
I've got enough here.
JEROME
(regarding the squimish detective,
as he holds the gauze to
his arm)
Need any more, you can always get
it off his shoes.
The Detective notices the spatter of blood
across his brogues
and, with a look of disdain, wipes it
clean. He tosses the
incriminating tissue down a hygenically sealed garbage shoot.
Lamar places Jerome's labelled
vial in the carousel where it is
immediately analyzed by the computer. Jerome's "legitimate"
Employee ID code appears on the screen - "VALID". Another
EMPLOYEE enters the testing lab.
INT.
GATTACA. DAY.
JEROME exits the testing lab with the
gauze held to his arm.
IRENE is standing outside the door.
IRENE
So you didn't do it after all.
JEROME
(joking darkly)
I guess somebody beat me to it.
INT.
GATTACA - MEZZANINE FLOOR. LATER
IN THE DAY.
From above, the INVESTIGATOR and HUGO
observe the final EMPLOYEE
exit the testing lab.
LAMAR, following the employee out of the lab,
throws a look of
vindication to the two cops.
DETECTIVE HUGO
That's the last.
INVESTIGATOR
Something's not right.
DETECTIVE HUGO
(losing his patience)
He's not here. It's a blind alley.
INVESTIGATOR
(resolute)
No, we've missed something. We Hoover again.
DETECTIVE HUGO
We don't have the manpower.
INVESTIGATOR
Get it. From outside, if you have to.
DETECTIVE HUGO
From what budget?
INVESTIGATOR
(angered by Hugo's
excuses)
I'll take it out of your damn pension
if
you question my authority one
more time!
The INVESTIGATOR turns his back on his
subordinate and idly
contemplates the nearby telescope. Hugo resignedly relays the
news to Director Josef who is standing
some distance away.
Josef's immediate reaction is to march
towards the Investigator,
Hugo trailing behind. DIRECTOR JOSEF collects himself as he
notices the Investigator's hand on the
telescope.
DIRECTOR JOSEF
Would you care to look--in the
telescope?
INVESTIGATOR
Thank you, no.
DIRECTOR JOSEF
(still referring to the
telescope)
One look through there and you
would know why
I can't possibly allow you to
disrupt operations
any further.
INVESTIGATOR
(unfazed)
You're so unconcerned that you
have a killer
in your midst.
DIRECTOR JOSEF
Right now, your presence
is creating more of
a threat. I don't think you have any concept
of what we do here--how
meticulous our
preparations must be. We are about to send
twelve people through 140 million
miles of
blackness to rendezvous with an
object the size
of a house and the color of coal. So it's rather
critical to point them in the
right direction.
And we certainly don't need you
looking over our
shoulders. Besides, I don't believe there is
any evidence that the killer is
amongst us. I
don't see too many other dead
bodies littering
the place.
INVESTIGATOR
(surveying the mostly
empty facility)
No, but since there aren't too
many live ones
tonight either, you won't mind us
conducting one
further sweep. If he does not work here, then
there should be no other trace of
him.
(to Hugo)
I think you'd better get some people out of
bed,
Detective.
(a thought occurs)
In the meantime we can re-check
his favorite
haunt.
Director Josef quietly seethes.
INVESTIGATOR
(to Josef, referring to
the telescope)
You see, Director, I prefer my
microscope.
INT.
EUGENE'S CONDOMINIUM. DAY.
JEROME readies himself for an evening out
- a bandage around his
arm from the needle puncture. EUGENE wheels himself in.
EUGENE
Where are we going?
JEROME
(slightly guilty)
I'm sorry. I've got plans.
EUGENE
(feigning hurt)
Again?
JEROME
(referring to his
bandage)
She's already got her
doubts. I have to act
like nothing's wrong.
EUGENE
I'm sure you'll be very
convincing.
Jerome ignores the remark.
EUGENE
Where are you taking her?
JEROME
Michael's.
Eugene looks at him askance.
JEROME
Everybody goes there.
EUGENE
(incredulous, glancing
around the room)
You may as well invite her here.
JEROME
(afterthought as he picks
up his jacket)
Will you be okay?
EUGENE
Don't worry about your little pin
cushion.
To be honest, I'm looking forward
to having
the place to myself.
JEROME
(seeing through the
bravado)
We'll still be able to talk when
I'm away.
The conversation will just keep
getting longer.
EUGENE
How long?
JEROME
By the time I'm at the Belt, you
phone and
say, "How are
you?" Forty-five minutes
later I reply, "Not
bad. How are you?"
EUGENE
I guess I'd better have something
important
to say if it takes that long to
get an answer.
INT.
MICHAEL'S CLUB. NIGHT.
IRENE and JEROME step off the dance floor
of the smoky, decadent
dinner club and take a seat at their
table. Irene is agog at
the strange assortment of PATRONS, the
cigars, the laden dessert
trolleys.
It is all slightly off from the pristine world she is
accustomed to.
IRENE
What is this place?
JEROME
(wry smile, enjoying her
fascination)
You've never been here?
(a dessert trolley is
wheeled up)
Let me order for you.
Jerome selects a chocolate torte from the
trolley. Jerome
savors a spoonful. Irene is tempted but then remembers herself.
IRENE
I'd better not.
She reaches for her elegant pill box. Jerome takes another
spoonful.
JEROME
So sure of what you can't
do. Do you even
know what it tastes like, Irene?
Irene goes to deny it but cannot.
MICHAEL suddenly approaches the table with
a WAITER in tow.
Irene is about to steal a taste of the
dessert with her finger
when their plates and glasses are whisked
away and the table
immediately hoovered. Michael whispers in Jerome's ear.
MICHAEL
Take the side door.
Jerome looks up in time to see DETECTIVE
HUGO coming through the
front entrance with several other
DETECTIVES.
DETECTIVE
(to his colleagues)
Check for lenses, hairpieces--
A Detective shines a flashlight in the
eyes of a MALE PATRON.
A SECOND DETECTIVE tugs the hair of a
SECOND PATRON. Jerome
takes Irene by the hand and escorts her
out of the side exit.
Several other COUPLES make for the parking
lot.
IRENE
Why are we leaving?
JEROME
(attempting to explain
the hasty exit)
Those checks take forever.
EXT.
MICHAEL'S CLUB - SIDE ALLEY.
NIGHT.
Spilling out of the exit, JEROME and IRENE
find a burly
plain clothes DETECTIVE barring their
way. Before the Detective
can say a word, Jerome has wrapped his
fist in his jacket sleeve
and smashed him in the face. He continues to beat the Detective
until he lies motionless on the ground.
IRENE
(stunned)
Jerome!
Spying other Detectives some distance away
in the parking lot.
Jerome leads Irene out of a hidden side
gate.
IRENE
What about the car?
JEROME
(grabbing her by the
hand)
Let's walk.
IRENE
Who are they?
JEROME
(holding his bruised
knuckles)
It's not safe. I shouldn't have brought you here.
Jerome drags Irene across a vast, desolate
lot, lit only by
moonlight.
Feeling exposed, he breaks into a run.
IRENE
I can't.
JEROME
(anxious)
Come on.
IRENE
My medication. I left it back there.
JEROME
We'll get it later.
(forcing her to look him
in the eye)
Irene, please.
Irene realizes his seriousness. She begins to run with him.
The clearing is wider than Jerome
anticipated. They are only
halfway across - extremely vulnerable if
the Detective think yo
look in their direction.
INT.
MICHAEL'S. NIGHT.
The INVESTIGATOR is grilling MICHAEL, the
club's owner. The
investigator suspiciously regards the
multitude of mini-vacs in
the kitchen and the incinerator burning
the refuse.
INVESTIGATOR
(an accusing tone)
You run a clean establishment.
MICHAEL
Are you a health inspector?
INVESTIGATOR
(showing Vincent's mugshot)
Do you recognize this man?
MICHAEL
My eyes aren't so good.
INVESTIGATOR
I bet.
Hugo calls out from the side door where he
has discovered
his fallen colleague.
HUGO
Sir.
The Investigator hurries to him.
INVESTIGATOR
(to the still dazed
Detective,
examining his injuries)
Did he hit you with his fist?
DETECTIVE
(head in his hands)
More like a hammer.
INVESTIGATOR
(reprimanding the beaten
Detective)
Don't touch your face. Don't swallow.
Don't spit.
(to Hugo)
Quick, clean his teeth.
Hugo uses a flashlight and a small
dental-like implement to try
to pick skin from Jerome's knuckles from
between the Detective's
teeth.
The Investigator finds the hidden side door.
EXT.
DESOLATE LOT. NIGHT.
JEROME and IRENE continue to sprint across
the enormous vacant
lot in the moonlight, splashing through
deposits of mud and
water.
Just as the gate opens in the distance, Jerome hurls
Irene into the safety of the undergrowth
on the other side.
Irene, out of breath, desperately feels
for her pulse.
IRENE
(upset, a strangled
protest)
Are you trying to kill me? Are you?!
Don't you understand, I can't do
that!
Jerome tenderly removes Irene's hand from
her pulse.
JEROME
You just did.
Irene looks back across the vast clearing
they have just
negotiated, realizing what she has just
done.
From across the other side of the clearing
comes an echoing
cry from the center FIGURE.
INVESTIGATOR (OC)
Vincent! Vincent!
EXT.
MICHAEL'S. NIGHT.
The INVESTIGATOR is about to cry out
Vincent's name once again
when he realizes DETECTIVE HUGO and the
other DETECTIVES are
watching him, askance.
INVESTIGATOR
(to Hugo, covering his
frustration)
What are you waiting for?
DETECTIVE HUGO
Where do we start?
INVESTIGATOR
We'll vacuum these streets if we
have to.
DETECTIVE
(handing the Investigator
Irene's pill box)
We caught them trying to flush
these, Sir.
The Investigator carefully examines the
heart pills.
EXT.
IRENE'S APARTMENT. NIGHT.
JEROME walks IRENE to the steps of her
apartment. Jerome thinks
about departing but Irene takes him gently by the hand.
IRENE
So sure of what you can't do.
Jerome follows her inside.
INT.
IRENE'S BEDROOM. NIGHT.
JEROME and IRENE climb a staircase to her
bedroom. Without
another word they begin to make love.
LATER THAT NIGHT, JEROME cannot
sleep. He rises quietly so as
not to disturb IRENE. He silently opens the double-windows of
the upstairs bedroom. He carefully gathers his pillow from the
bed and shakes it out of the window.
Slowly Jerome turns to gaze at the wood
floor. In the moonlight
we see an EXTREME CLOSE UP of a single
hair lying on the
floorboards. Jerome bends and picks up the hair, trying to
identify it in the dim light. On his hands and knees he tries
to clean the floor with a towel. Irene turns over in the
bed.
Jerome freezes but she continues to sleep. He realizes he
may be spreading even more of his skin and
hair over the floor.
Overcome with frustration and the enormity
of his task, he
begins to quietly weep.
EXT.
A FIELD. DAWN.
A light shroud of mist hangs over the
trees that encircle a
grassy clearing beyond Irene's
building. Something lies in the
center of the clearing.
We jump-cut to an EXTREME CLOSE UP of two
or three blades of
grass.
Bristles rain down on the blades.
Withotu access to his
incinerator, the crouched, naked figure of
JEROME disposes of
his whiskers, skin and hair in an open
field. His clothes sit
in a neat pile at his side. He pours glycolic acid over his
body and scrubs at his back, feet and
hands with a brush. There
is a haunted, tortured look in his eyes as
he tries desperately
to rid himself of himself.
INT.
POOL. MORNING.
The INVESTIGATOR swims obsessively in his
aquatic treadmill.
INT.
IRENE'S APARTMENT. LATER THAT
MORNING.
Back in the bedroom, JEROME, partially
dressed, holds IRENE
in
bed. She softly touches the scars on his
shins.
IRENE
(referring to the shins)
What happened?
JEROME
You remember the '99 Chrysler LeBaron?
It's the exact height of the front
fender.
(shrugs)
Looked right instead of left.
IRENE
(comforted by the
thought)
So you're not so smart after all.
(awkward about raising
the subject)
I want you to know--if it ever
came to it--
I'd be willing to get an ovum
from the Egg
Bank. In fact, I'd rather use a donor egg--
(quickly covering herself
again)
--if it came to it.
JEROME
But "if it came to it"
then it couldn't have your--
(searching for an
appropriate body part)
--nose.
(stroking her face)
How perfect does your child have
to be?
IRENE
(mildly irritated by what
she
perceives as his mocking)
You hypocrite. Do you think for one moment
you'd be doing what you're doing
if it wasn't
for who you are--what you
are? Don't you get
any satisfaction knowing
that your children
will be able to live to a ripe
old age unless
they do something foolish?
JEROME
That's precisely what scaresme--that they
won't do anything foolish
or courageous or
anything--worth a Goddamn.
Irene is taken aback by Jerome's passion,
regarding him in a new
light.
INT.
EUGENE'S CONDOMINIUM. MORNING.
EUGENE urinates into a large plastic
container while drinking
bottled water at the same time. He already has several other
containers of urine on the table beside
him.
INT.
GATTACA. MORNING.
The INVESTIGATOR and DETECTIVE HUGO keep a
wary eye on the
outfitted DETECTIVES re-vacuuming the
empty computer complex
with their mini-vacs.
HUGO
(reading newspaper)
My wife and I--we're thinking of
starting a family.
INVESTIGATOR
(shrugs, ambivalent)
Why not?
HUGO
These new personality corrections
I've been
reading about.
INVESTIGATOR
You worried about the cost?
HUGO
Not that.
INVESTIGATOR
(regarding Hugo with a
condescending smile)
They said the same thing about
myopia and
obesity. You think your children would be
less human if they were less
violent, angry,
spiteful? Maybe they'd be more human. From
where I sit the world could stand
a little
improving.
We dwell on one DETECTIVE in particular,
snatching a garbage
bag from CAESAR, the janitor.
DETECTIVE
Don't touch that. It's evidence.
He puts a pile of discarded paper cups
aside for later testing.
INT.
GATTACA CORPORATION. LATER THAT
MORNING.
In the vast, empty Gattaca
complex the INVESTIGATOR inspects a
specimen bag containing Jerome's paper cup
with DIRECTOR JOSEF
and DETECTIVE HUGO.
DETECTIVE HUGO
Positive saliva match. The cup was
definitely used since the
original sweep.
INVESTIGATOR
So we have two choices. Either our suspect
came back to the murder scene for
a drink of
water and I don't know anybody
that thirsty or...
(looking out over the
empty complex)
...he is here.
(resolute)
We test again. You're right, Hugo, this was a
desperate act. Someone had a lot to lose that
night--perhaps their place in
line.
(to Director Josef)
I'd like the profiles of everyone
with an
upcoming mission.
DIRECTOR JOSEF
(nervous)
Twelve have a mission within the
week.
INVESTIGATOR
This time I will supervise each
test personally.
INT/EXT.
GATTACA. MORNING.
JEROME and IRENE walk towards the entrance
to Gattaca.
Spying
the Homicide Investigation trucks parked
at the rear of the
building and the silhouette of the
INVESTIGATOR in the doorway,
Jerome pulls up sharply. Irene notices his unease.
IRENE
What is it?
JEROME
I forgot something--something at
home.
I'll see you later.
Jerome kisses her. Irene, also aware of the trucks,
interrogates Jerome with her eyes.
IRENE
I'll miss you.
Jerome is still focussed
on the entranceway.
IRENE
(looking skywards)
--when you go away.
JEROME
We could go together one day.
Irene considers the idea. She enters Gattaca
alone.
INT.
GATTACA AEROSPACE CORPORATION - COMPUTER COMPLEX. DAY.
IRENE prepares a stack of ID photos of
CREW MEMBERS for the
INVESTIGATOR. She closely inspects the doctored photo of
JEROME, hesitating before adding it to the
file.
The camera dwells on JEROME's vacant work
station. The
INVESTIGATOR curiously regards the empty
chair. He is
accompanied by DETECTIVE HUGO, DIRECTOR
JOSEF and IRENE.
DETECTIVE HUGO
He's the only absentee.
DIRECTOR JOSEF
A little nausea. Quite common.
INVESTIGATOR
At least it's nothing contagious.
DIRECTOR JOSEF
(unduly agitated)
I will not permit any further
testing on the
eve of a mission. We're already counting
backwards.
The INVESTIGATOR ignores Josef and takes a
pocket knife from his
jacket.
He prises out the "ESC" key from
Jerome's keyboard,
places the key in a specimen bag and
deposits it in his jacket.
IRENE
(picking up a phone)
I'll call and let him know.
The Investigator gently but firmly removes
the phone from
Irene's hand and replaces the receiver in
the cradle.
INVESTIGATOR
Let's not spoil the surprise.
(to Irene)
I understand you can show us the
way.
The anxious Director Josef calls out to
protest one further
time but the Investigator is on his way
out of the door.
EXT.
STREET OUTSIDE GATTACA. DAY.
Outside the entrance to Gattaca, trying to hail a taxi, JEROME
is
startled to see a car carrying the INVESTIGATOR, DETECTIVE
HUGO and IRENE roar out of the
driveway. JEROME calls on his
portable wristphone.
INT.
EUGENE'S CONDOMINIUM. DAY.
EUGENE, at his window, filling sachets as
usual, hesitates
before answering the phone.
EUGENE
Hello?
JEROME (OC)
How would you like to be yourself
for the day?
EUGENE
(nonchalant)
I was never very good at it,
remember?
INT.
EUGENE'S CONDOMINIUM / HALLWAY.
DAY.
With a look of resolve, EUGENE hangs up
the phone.
He wheels his chair up to the sweeping
staircase and regards the
first of many dozen steps. The daunting staircase spirals away
above him.
INT.
INVESTIGATOR'S CAR. DAY.
HUGO drives. The INVESTIGATOR looks to IRENE in the rear
seat.
INVESTIGATOR
(taunting)
You don't know who he is, do you,
Irene?
He hands her the pill box found in
Michael's.
INVESTIGATOR
You think you have problems?
INT.
EUGENE'S CONDO/JEROME'S CONDO.
DAY.
Having wheeled his chair out of sight,
EUGENE eases himself out
of his wheelchair and onto the floor. Using his elbows,
commando-style, dragging his lifeless legs
behind him, he
proceeds to crawl across the floor and up
the first step of the
long spiral staircase. We observe his agonizingly slow progress
up a staircase that, from Eugene's point
of view, appears to
have doubled in length.
EXT.
CONDOMINIUM COMPLEX. DAY.
The INVESTIGATOR and DETECTIVE HUGO emerge
from their car with
IRENE in tow. They take in the impressive complex - the
Investigator gets a glimpse of the empty
pool. They approach
the intercom at the entrance.
INT.
JEROME'S CONDOMINIUM. DAY.
EUGENE, bathed in sweat, finally crests
the landing of the
staircase.
No respite. As he drags himself
across the floor
the internal phone rings. He frantically stretches up and
knocks the phone off its hook so he can
talk from his prone
position on the floor.
INT.
CONDOMINIUM - LOBBY. DAY.
IRENE is on the phone, closely watched by
the INVESTIGATOR and
DETECTIVE HUGO.
EUGENE (OC)
(through intercom, no
trace of his distress)
Hello.
IRENE
(a moment's hesitation)
Jerome--?
EUGENE
Hello, sweatheart. Come on up.
INT.
JEROME'S CONDOMINIUM. DAY.
With no mean effort, EUGENE finally
manages to replace the phone
on its cradle. He desperately crawls up onto the sofa.
However, spying the upright vacuum cleaner
in the open closet,
he is forced to crawl there and remove the
vacuum bag. He
frantically crawls back towards the sofa
and stuffs the bag
behind a cushion.
INT.
JEROME'S CONDOMINIUM. DAY.
IRENE enters the door deliberately left
ajar, closely followed
by the INVESTIGATOR and DETECTIVE
HUGO. EUGENE is propped up on
the sofa, TV remote control placed in his
useless hand to cover
his paralysis. He has a stainless steel bowl next to him and
has crossed his lifeless legs for a more
natural effect. Eugene
calmy motions
the confused Irene towards him.
EUGENE
Where's my kiss?
The Investigator scrutinizes Irene's
reaction. With only the
merest hesitation she takes her cue from
Eugene and kisses
him affectionately on the forehead. She perches herself on the
arm
of the sofa. Eugene takes the
opportunity to rest his
arm on her leg.
IRENE
Good to see you're feeling
better.
EUGENE
Now you're here. Who are your "friends"?
IRENE
It's about the Director.
EUGENE
(feigning boredom)
Again?
The Investigator slowly circles Eugene,
regarding him with the
utmost scrutiny. He compares his face to the doctored Gattaca
ID photo - a passable likeness. Eugene bends towards the bowl
and dry retches.
EUGENE
Forgive me for not getting up.
Irene puts a comforting hand on Eugene's
shoulder.
IRENE
(to the Investigator)
Couldn't we do this another time?
INVESTIGATOR
I don't believe so.
Detective Hugo takes a seat in the chair
beside the sofa and
unpacks a syringe from the kit he carries.
DETECTIVE HUGO
This won't take a moment.
Detective Hugo swabs Eugene's inner
arm. All eyes are trained
on the tip of the needle as it punctures
the vein.
EUGENE
(reassuring to Irene,
referring to
the blood flowing into
the syringe)
It's okay. Maybe they can find out what I've got.
Under the Investigator's watchful eye,
Detective Hugo withdraws
the syringe and immediately inserts a
small amount of the blood
into the portable analyzer he wears. Naturally, it confirms
that Eugene is Jerome.
Irene does her best to conceal her
shock. Hiding his
frustration, the Investigator distractedly
tours the room while
Hugo packs up his gear. The Investigator idly toys with
the telescope pointed out of the window.
Next he wanders towards the closet and reaches
for the doorknob.
INVESTIGATOR
Mind if I take a leak?
EUGENE
As long as you don't do it in my
closet.
(nodding to the other
side of the room)
Over there.
INT.
JEROME'S CONDOMINIUM - BATHROOM.
DAY.
The INVESTIGATOR immediately pulls a
specimen bag from his
jacket pocket and closely inspects the
stainless steel toilet
and sink.
They are both spotless. The shower
stall is also
scrupulously clean. He flushes the toilet and exits.
Lost in thought, the INVESTIGATOR
approaches the closet again
and wheels out Jerome's upright vacuum
cleaner. He is
disappointed a second time to find no
vacuum bag inside. The
Investigator returns the vacuum cleaner to
the closet and
produces a mini-vac
from Detective Hugo's crime bag.
INVESTIGATOR
(to Eugene, referring to ther mini-vac)
May I?
EUGENE
Clean the whole house if you
want.
IRENE
(taking Eugene's lead)
Actually, the kitchen needs
doing.
The Investigator switches on the mini-vac to take a specimen
from the floor, then promptly kills the
machine. Looking down,
the Investigator notices the trail of
Eugene's perspiration
on the highly polished floor leading to
the spiral staircase.
Eugene, reading the Investigator's mind,
goes to call out but
the words remain frozen on his
tongue. Hugo follows his
superior as they start to descend the
stairs. Irene and Eugene
are left staring at one another.
INT.
CONDO - STAIRCASE. DAY.
JEROME catches the merest glimpse of the
INVESTIGATOR and
DETECTIVE HUGO before he slips behind a
doorway in Eugene's
condominium.
Jerome anxiously regards Eugene's empty
wheelchair sitting
there.
On the stairs, Hugo's phone rings.
DETECTIVE HUGO (OC)
(into phone, increasingly
encouraged)
Yes?...Yes...yes...
The Investigator is already at the foot of
the stairs in
Eugene's condo when the Detective calls to
him.
DETECTIVE
(urgent, to Investigator)
Come quickly. We have him.
The Investigator's eyes light up. He retraces his steps
up the staircase after Detective Hugo.