The Great Space Race [act 1/5] 'Saved to diskette'

FADE IN:

ESTABLISHING SHOT - SHEIK'S PALACE - BUBIYAN MINOR - MIDDAY

TWO-STORY HUGE, a 'space-launchy' minaret on the grounds; A muezzin on high summons to prayer: "Allah…Akbar…!" AD INF…

None else anywhere … except V.O. KEYBOARD PUCK… PUCK… PUCK…

…coming from WITHIN THE OUTER PILLAR-WALL: ZOOM IN--

INT. OFFICE LOGGIA - 2ND-FLOOR - DAYLIT

IN ARABIC - English captions in arabesque caricature-scrawl

Cute little Arab boy HAMMED types his Dear-Mommy-loveletter at Windpanes Wordslab 99 on Daddy's PC on a writing desk in the midst of the spacious column-perimetered exterior room:

KEYBOARD PUCK… PUCK… PUCK… PUCK… PUCK… PUCK…

Stops. Rereads his screenpage. And--

CLICKS THE Diskette icon--

"SAVING FILE TO: c:\hammed.exe"

PC SYSTEM CRASHES TO BLACK--! AIR RAID SIRENS WHOOP-UP…!

AIRFORCE JETS SHRIEK-BY into the sky; PC REBOOTS…

ROYAL GUARDS RUSH IN, arms drawn, and confront--

Hammed.

SHEIK ALFASETI flows in, a stern neo-Arabian oil-smirker.

(explains points)
I clicked on the diskette, Daddy: to save my E-letter to Mommy…

Alfaseti examines the PC rebooted up running again:

CLICKS THE Diskette icon--

"SAVING FILE TO: c:\hammed.exe"

PC SYSTEM CRASHES TO BLACK--! Air Raid Sirens still going…

MORE JETS shriek-by,- piquing Alfaseti CRIMSON…

MORE GUARDS as fist-pumping air-sucking eyeball-juggling,

(irate-on-irate)
Uuuu…!-- I shall have Bill Flops' mountain oysters for breakfast on Holy Day--!

CUT TO:

INT. TV DAY NEWS STUDIO - ANCHOR DESK - ON AIR - (NEXT DAY)

IN ENGLISH

INSET: [A cheery Sheik Alfaseti visits the USA President]

ANCHORWOMAN, with men-dating interest, explains:

This morning, Sheik Al Faceti of Bubiyan Minor, in America for two days visiting with the President at the White House, publicly filed his civil class-action lawsuit against MegloSoft's founder Mr. Bill Flops: In a Meg-lo-Soft-worded statement submitted to Fiscal-trac-dot-com the Sheik explained, He wants, one-hundred-million dollars from Mr. Flops' fledgling monopoly, Or, he will have Mr. Flops' mountain oysters for breakfast…

CHOKED GUFFAWS-AND-CLEARINGS from Studio Personnel…

…breakfast, on holy-day … But … in separate correspondence with, this, News Reporter: His Press Secretary,: (leans CU: confides)
-who's this gorgeous, hunk,- admits privately, to a third, option-- He, says, The Sheik will forgo, the hundred million…: (cloaked deep)
--and, the, mountain, oysters,--

MORE CHOKED Studio guffaws-and-clearings…

(SOTTO VOCE for -us-)
if, instead, -he confided:- If Mr. Flops, will concede, to a little…

CUT AWAY TO:

INT. FLOPS' MEGLOSOFT OFFICE - DAY (AS CONCLUDING)

Tall bespectacled secretary MARCIA informs her surprised-stunned funning computer mogul-nerd Corp-President, tall BILL FLOPS, of the impending threat from Sheik Alfaseti:

(as concluding)
…a little wager, for that same, hundred-million:-- If, you will accept his challenge to a Space Shuttle-to-moon race and back….

(thaws a beat: works out)
I, don't, buy, plan A:--: (whines)
Everybody knows a diskette can store potential giga-bytes:-- P-C's start-up, on a diskette, for crying out loud!: (calms)
B,-- I can do without B.

She chokes a guffaw-and-clearing…

(considers)
C … I can deal with C;-- Get me Payrol on the vid-link:-- I don't want to splurge a hundred-million without him seeing me virtually sign the digital-check.

She begins to exit;

(ponders loud)
Where did "Al, Fass-Eddy," get his billions?-- He's only got, a dozen oil-wells in Bubiyan Minor!

(stays)
During the Persian Gulf conflict, he swung deals on both sides: He had prior contracts with Saddam's sons, to resell oil, low, to cover Saddam's complaint of being outbid. Then just before Hussein invaded Kuwait, Faseti built facades around his wellheads: painting them as U-S media corporate offices,- which Hussein's invaders avoided.

So that's, why, the news media was treated so well in Iraq:-- clev-er!

Four "old" wells, were left exposed and destroyed … And in reporting to American Staffing, he counted, All, his, "oiled," wells, as vandalized…

(nods, chuckling-up)
Clev-er…!

So he got help from us to rebuild his country,- plus administrative subsidies to sell what oil he could produce, -which was realistically, full, production,- plus he secretly expanded his contracts with Hussein to sell-through oil … but that's no longer available-- and he's hopping like snakes before an earthquake in the garden.

(big nods)
Okay:- We have to deal with him: He's bright --shrewd-- but bright: We can install all-new Jalousy Wind-Panes-20/20 Secure-System-Leveraging for him … as a mideast demonstrator….

(exiting busy)
One more thing: He wants to meet--: (and half out)
you and NASA in D.C. before launch.

(eyebrows)
Anxious, eh?!-- Guess that's all right: Jet-setters do things like that: Encourages more Internet'ing.: (renews)
And e-mail Justice:-- Let them know: (grows a stealth grin)
what's afoot …

She leans head back inside-- and checks him--

(TWINKLES in the eyes)
/ And what's ahead…!

Sharing-the-big-grin …

CUT TO:

EXT. DUNE MOGULS - FOOTHILLS, PERSIAN RANGE - DAY

Alfaseti and his Secretary-AIDE (Arab hunk), sun-goggled, arab capes flapping, poling, unweighting: sand-skiing …

JUMP--

SLO MO: Sand-ski bottom-brand is "Teflon Presidents" …

ZOOM OUT: They stop on a bluff … peer-out across the dunes, oil derricks, mirages … below a snow-capped mountain ridge.

ZOOM IN: Their dusty faces; They remove their sun-goggles;

TRANSITION: Hold on Alfaseti's royal sheik-face (CU)--

INT. BAIKONUR COSMODROME - (LENINSK) KAZAKHSTAN - DAY

IN RUSSIAN ACCENT - captions in caricature Cyrillic

CU: Sheik-face Alfaseti contracts oil for a space shuttle mission, with four RUSSIAN TECHNOCRATS and the city MAYOR:

(a royal beat, cajoles)
… two hundred million U.S. dollars, market rate, for five days, four nights, on your space shuttle … twice what the Americans charge per-launch: Who pays you like that in Russia?

(dour)
The Americans have fully-subsidized government space launches. Russia,… things cost more: We economize, Buy and sell, Government surplus: We are very commercial, here.

(a setup grin)
Insurance, taxes, launch fees, moon-fuel … all included …

(dour)
The Ptichka 1-0-2 is the only Buran space shuttle we have left: You are not going to crash it, or anything?

(shocked)
Who's alive around here?!- This is me, Al-Fass-Eddy, shake-your-booty billionaire, oil-magnate, schemer … Crash me? Don't be so blammatory!

Blammatory, is not a word.

You tell the Americans that: They, in-vented, the English language.

(dour)
We need something more substantial: We cannot accept that much money in Bubiyan Minor dinars. And we do not control U.S. dollars at this time:- maybe next year, after the U.S. war on flying-carpet-smuggling, lands.

(into setup)
Oil, hungh?- I, figured, you'd get around to the slicker-shock…. Okay: Here's the deal: I'll sell you, ten million barrels of premium Bubiyan Minor crude at 20-dollars-per right out of the head: Low sulfur, low gas: You've got to like it!

That is the going market price.

When you can get it.

(suspects)
Is it yours to sell?

(stinging grin)
Here's the sweet part: You'll pay me, in gold-certificate, rubles.

The Russians dove-head mutual challenge-and-denials …

You've been waiting years to unload those gold-certificates: If anyone suspected they were right here in Leninsk City, there'd be a scandal so hot, Siberia should melt down;-- but I can unload them for you.

(furtive)
What do you know about the Siberian meltdown?!

(caught misdirected)
Heh-- nothing-- really-- melt-down, is, American figure of speech;-- I meant a patty-melt: Yeh: We'll keep it all secret like a sandwich deal: And we won't tell anyone about our shuttle arrangement till it's time.

How do you know we have two hundred million in rubles, of any, kind, so to speak?

I wouldn't be selling you ten million barrels for any less,-- would I?

How are you going to spend, gold-certificate rubles, if you had any? They are hardly worth mentioning, in Russia: Nobody really remembers what they look like: They were one of the Soviet Union's technological quantum leaps….

I, just spend: That's what I do best: My private horde: I'll take a world-wind fling --my last days on Earth, so to speak-- and spend them altogether: There will be no cache of them left in my banks.

You can do this for us?

Yeh-- sure-- I can: It's not like I have too much free time on-hand.

The Russians HUDDLE--

(fist in palm)
We must adhere to the rules, or this democracy will never work!

(palm on fist)
We document the rules ourselves in this democracy!

(2-fingers)
There are two sides to every issue!

Rock-Paper-Sizzors: "Gotoviy? / Gotoviy! / Jan - Ken - Po!"

(scores-- to Alfaseti)
It is the deal: We buy the oil.

(whips-out cellphone)
O-kay! I'll phone home on my cell;- First shipment, is in two days!

The Russians nod, part, and EXEUNT; leaving his excitement…

(happy but annoyed)
I wish they'd learn a few lessons on international etiquette from impressed American dupes.

Turns to the daylight, keys his cellphone, and strolls…

A moment later his CELL CONNECTS; He schemes to launder--

(to cellphone)
Yes.: (a beat-- passphrase)
O-kay:-- Ruby, Poggles…: (beat-- annoyed)
Se-sa-me!: (sotto voce)
May Allah grant you 73-- virgins …: (lightens)
… yes … sounds good … okay!: (a beat-- orders)
Release plan A-plus: Two days, Be in port: The money tree shakes!: (2 disco shakes)
And book me two weeks open-jaws through Europe's high-tech world-trade centers: We're going on a big-eight sight-seeing hunt!: (a beat: sours)
No: Not the A-K-47's,-- Mujah!: (whines to Allah)
A little sand in his lambchops, and every elevator becomes an uprising!: (listens a beat-- grins)
Yup! We're taking the whole harem-- and, the kitty cat!: (smirks sotto voce)
… always gets the monkeys riled …

He strolls-on to EXIT…

CUT TO:

INT. OVAL OFFICE - WHITE HOUSE, WASHINGTON DC - EVENING LIT

On the desk are two conversation pieces: A polished wood- and jet-cut-aluminum block sign, reading, "An intelligent desk is / The sign of a cleaned mind. / Aplentium X"; And a transparent box encasing a silver pistol, its sign reading, "Go ahead and make my day!" and a button which when pushed, the box opens, the pistol rises, turns and fires a cap. The davenport is repositioned in front, and three tipsy gaudy female INTERN SILLIES, RUN CIRCUIT, Maypoling the room and the disheveled bubba-PRESIDENT mid davenport calling [Ross Payrol, eyes only] on the paper-bearded video-telephone--

Roose-baby: It's me!--: (TRIGGERS THE BOX)
President Up-you's-of-A.: (ribbon-draped)
Yeah, I'm at the White House: Where'd you'd thunk I'd been, this time af-ter'd dark?!- Wear white at night-- Hmmm!?

PISTOL CAP POPS!-- He surrenders: They stumble, laughing …

He grabs a handful of passing ribbons and colored bra…

(resumes his call)
An-y-way,-- I've got business for y'all: A-propos-ition.: (airing the bra)
Ooops: Not that, drunk!… The Senate will have an indoor field-day…

CUT OVER TO:

INT. PAYROL'S TEXAS GOURMET KITCHEN - LIT (ZONE CONTINUOUS)

POV: ROSS PAYROL, executive little-squirt billionaire tycoon, is cooking with his preteen daughter DACY-DEAR OVERLAPPING SOMEWHAT, while left-earphoning the [President] (FILTERED) viewed in an upper corner of his VIDEO-GLASSES: (with party interaction, a grinning Silly, a stock image)

Dacy fingers down her computer instructions, for salad;

(roused)
Yes: It's big-- and hotter than New York, Waco, or, H-E-eleven!

(sipping a taste)
Mmmm: Yummy! We may have to buy-out Betty Crocker's cookbook.

No, way,-- I mean, forget, H-E-eleven: Y' can't spend y'r entire administrative 4-years mopin'bout, yellin' Fire-in-the-theater…!

(reading-checking 3 sec.)
I've broken the pieces of Romaine and Butterhead; and chopped the Escarole. Now, we toss the salad?

Let's add the dressing before tossing the salad.

Well, next term, is, next term: I c'n handle, a publical 'lection.

(big-sniffs the dressing)
This'll be a tossed-dressing salad.

Is that alright?

Sure.

CUT BACK TO:

OVAL OFFICE: Louder sillier partying; finger in his ear--

(buzzes)
Thank you for the relentmentation …: (half a beat)
Wooey! Where'd that-word come-from?

Put a lid on it, and shake it up.

Yeah! … Oh: the Space, Shuttle!

We'll fry those.

(bamboozled)
What?!-- Who's talkin' at me?!- Is this a national security threat?!

Mr. President, we are frying the small potatoes.

(piqued hot)
The small potatoes!-- Is that all?!

With the onions and green peppers!

(fast cools)
Right … Yummy;- Listen: Roose-baby: I want you, to take a ride, on the Uncle Sam-of-Am Nazah Spaceshuttle!

Are necessary plans already made?

(befuddled)
Yes? NASA's aeri-planes are already made … Nazah, Space Shuttle … Same, dif'renced.

Why do you want me, to go?

Well,- because,- I think it's your civic pride, and responsibility!

There's not much work in a vacuum.

America wasn't built on House-work, alone.

(a beat)
Can we avoid politics in the emptiness of outer space?

No, I'm the electee-- true enough… Listen-- Roose-baby: There's some, big, flap, goin' 'bout, 'bout goin' 'bout the moon backside, and back…: (half a beat)
Wooey! Did it again!- Some, Rhodes,

Two Sillies sit-hopping the length-- jump his lap…

(juggled)
Scholarship, That turned out to be!: (listening finger freed)
No: I don't know; And I don't know when I didn't know!- Do you want to go or not? It's like a free ride!-- The only free ride you'll ever get from America, Roose-baby: So, Take a free ride!: (grins, listens, sobers)
Ungh-hungh!: (listens)
Ungh-hungh!: (listens)
It's only half a week vacate; and not too far from li'l Tax-as.: (listens)
Sure, Roose: Take yer dog, yer cat, yer rat-- yer wife, yer daughter…: (grins, listens, sobers)
No, I think y'r whales won't fit.

DISSOLVE TO:

EXT. TEXAS OIL WELL SITE - SODA CANTEEN MACHINES - DAY

POV: Payrol in clean oil fatigues, purveys, discussing the President's request with Dacy sitting on the vehicle hood, working her sewn-in LAPTOP-ON-A-SKIRT:

(to laptop)
Daddy: Do you really want to go to the moon? There's no oil up there!

(quiets)
How did you find that?

(points to URL)
I went to the C-I-A-dot-gov world-facts-center … They don't list, any oil or gas resources on the moon.

(erudites about)
Well, Dacy-dear … I've been, around the world … Freed government regime hostages … Saved world trade from bankruptcy … Ran for the U.S. Presidency … Created a whole new political party …: (a beat)
Two halves …: (a beat, to Dacy)
So long as you're not in danger, I'll do it for America.

But, Daddy: I want to go with you, to the moon, if you go!

TRANSITION from POV--

(concerned)
Well: It's safe-enough in the Space Shuttle … Safer than politics. I'll review your tradeoffs: Insuring one space passenger is expensive tripe: I'll retrustee your Preferred Stock shares to the board-of-directors' next-nearest-of-competition …

Can I bring my pet Dolphin-Roy?

Maybe. I'll ask the President: He seems to think whales are too much.

Dolphin-Roy can be very quiet:-- I just tell him, Don't inhale.

We'll see, Dacy-dear: It sounds tricky either way.

(a beat)
Can we launch from the Johnson Space Center in Houston?

Well, No: Florida's Cape Canaveral: Our Texas launch facility isn't big-enough for the Space Shuttle.: (more direct)
Is it important?

Oh, Florida just looks so far away! We should include a visit to the Disney World if we go there.

You went just last summer.

Yes-- I know.: (beat)
Are there any bigger attractions in Florida?

He's stymied.

(a beat-- switches)
Daddy: Are there computers on the moon?

Well-- if you mean, on the moon itself-- I don't think so-- NASA hasn't discovered any-- though they: (and begins to wander)
did leave a few early versions.

Do you think Santa Claus will retrieve them?

She shuts her laptop, slides down, and follows;

Well: I don't know, Dacy-dear: The moon is a pretty big place-- Maybe not so pretty-- But big-- Bigger than America.

(ponders)
Bigger than America.: (a beat)
Does the President go to the moon for Christmas?

(smirks)
I've never asked him such an intimate question, Dacy-dear.

(2 beats)
Can I decorate my bedroom?

CUT TO:

EXT.-INT. BIG CROWDED ITALIAN BAZAAR - DAY

COURSING THROUGH, CHAINED MONKEYS SCREAMING, Capes flowing, Alfaseti leading a bejeweled JAGUAR, 10-SHEIKS (munchkins), Aide, HAREM, big-spending $100M gold-certificate rubles for decor, air-furniture, gold-leaf tapestry, high-tech curios:

A JEWELRY BOUTIQUE:

Backs turned, the 10-Sheiks busy jabbering, load-up …

PISTOLS COCK as four POLICE OFFICERS REACH ARMS INTO VIEW--

(spaghetti-western gaudy)
Pole-ice;-- Freeeeze!: (3 beats)
I said, pole-ice-freeze! These guns are load,-ed!

BAZAAR QUIETS… 10-Sheiks turn, buzzing explanations--

Low, dead…?

Full.

Very happy.

May explode.

Guaranteed-- winners.

Optional accessories.

(a beat: smiles)
All-right, boys: The game is over.

10-Sheiks read price tags, And count their gold-certificate rubles (translucent golden superball-bouncy Zectron film), Officers watching, mouthing dumbfounded:

60 leers to one ruble this morning.

(cross-grab to a pile)
/ 10-thousand / 20-thousand / 30-thousand / 50-thousand / 70-thousand / 80-thousand / 90-thousand / 'Ten'ty-thousand / 1-hundred-20-thousand / 1-hundred-30-thousand / 1-hundred-50-thousand …

(a beat)
How much is that in leers?

(leers at him)
9-million.

They pay the Clerks their sum … And move-on--

(leaving relieved)
That was intense…!

(with him, awed)
And twenties…!

SUPERIMPOSE: NEWS-TICKER SHADOWS:

…RUBLE ROUSER DOES GOLD BRICKS…

…MARKET QUAKE SHEIKS OUT 10%…

…SHEIK RATTLES AND ROLLS WORLD…

…MARKET SUMP FOOLS GOLD RUBLE…

Meanwhile the Clerks check their suspect rubbery rubles before smiling Officers:--

(crumple-crumple test)
Gold-certificate?

And stretch-stretches one … it snaps-back.

And plunges eyes looking-through and about … BLINK-BLINKS.

(sniff test)
Gold!?: (bite-bite test)
Highway rubbery!

And dangles it at the ear and PLING-tests….

(hand-weighs a pile)
Gold, rubles--!?

And drop-tests that--

The stack bounces, wriggling, melting with perpetual lively energy… (Keep a developed segment of this for return-view.)

CUT AWAY TO:

INT. TV EVENING NEWS STUDIO - ANCHOR DESK - ON AIR - LIT

INSET: [chasing Alfaseti, cat et al, in the busy bazaar]

Evening co-ANCHORS MAN and WOMAN--

… on his European shopping spree, a week now, was followed through the preemminent bazaars of deepest Italy, spending his horde-cache of hundreds of millions of gold-certificate rubles, like they were going out of style before sunset,-

INSET: [International Money Exchange ruble tumbling 10%]

(as continuing)
-which they did, a decade ago-… and upsetting the world economic trust: The International Monetary Exchange ruble dropped abruptly, late this afternoon when he was seen buying …

INSET: [Alfaseti tries a shiny camisole on a harem-girl]

… a rhodium-thread camisole for one million rubles…. Said one of his guest-sheiks: "I think there is going to be a deluge or flood of some proportions, but it depends."

INSET: [Italian street-speculators hawking bets]

(as continuing)
Italian speculators are worried the Sheik may be getting too old for this but the Sheik's Secretary-Aide says they're here for one more week and ready to double their spending.

INSET off: Newsroom b.g.

(grin includes anchorman)
And just to let you know: Stu, will have the Anchor Desk to himself for four days next week, while I'm away on a little, invited, world-class cruise … working hard, as always.

They smile, nod. And--

CUT TO:

INT. FLOPS OFFICE - PC SHUTTLE SIMULATOR - CURTAIN ON DAY

Flops is handy, busy piloting his PC simulation, steering, keying, while speaking general business with Marcia:

Ten percent is a real knee-knocker: Did they say it was all his fault?

Not specifically: But they leave no doubt they believe he majorly factored-in.

A pity … has Alfaseti made any comments on that? Is he going to quit early?

No. The evening report has his Aide reversing, saying they may back-off spending all their second hundred million: But he didn't hint any withdrawal from the race.

That's the sheik's breed, -I guess: A pole-vaulter with the guts to put his straw in the coconut and shake it all the way up.

(coyly)
Shall I put-out a company-memo to this effect, sir?

(smiles)
Ahhh, no: That won't be necessary, Marcia: Let's just watch for curves ahead: This sheik may be a shake shrewder than we think.

(EXITS)
A shrewder shaker: Yes, sir-- Park him next to the stewed'er, baker.

He continues-on, piloting his simulator …

CUT TO:

INT. BAIKONUR COSMODROME - EVENING LIT

The Technocrats, Mayor, frown at each other over Newspaper headlines: "SUSPECT COUNTERFEITS / DISSIDENT GOLD RUBLES"

Dumb.

Dumber.

Dumbest.

At least, we are not holding the rubles here, now.

Dumb.

Dumber.

Dumbest.

At least we're not under suspicion, for sourcing the gold-certificates.

Dumb.

Dumber.

Dumbest.

FADE TO:

INT. BIG RUSSIAN MAYOR'S OFFICE - ANOTHER CITY - DAY

Alfaseti contracts low to a consortium of nine MAYORS:

… ninety million barrels of premium Bubiyan crude at 19-dollars-per: 17-hundred-and-10 million dollars-- in your rubles-- good exchange: eh?

(puzzles)
… is one dollar under current market, the price 20-dollars?-- Five percent less, a barrel?

(coyly apologizes)
Yeah, that's what I was thinking: I did such a messup knocking down the world-price on rubles with my fancy spending across Europe, I thought I should share the burden with you.

(headshakes disbelief)
We surely need the oil.

Mayors nod Yes.

Five percent saved, is five percent earned.

Cannot get a better price anywhere else right now, on devalued rubles.

Mayors nod Yes.

CUT TO:

INT. BAIKONUR COSMODROME - EVENING LIT

Technocrats, Mayor, in-tight, sweating, loosening neckties, breathing, whistling, read a Newspaper: The ruble is back!

(reading aloud)
/ Word is leak that Sheik Alfaseti quietly advantaged himself of ruble depression by contracting to sell ninety million barrels of oil, to nine Russian mayors, yesterday.: (whisper-whistles)
/ The ruble is bobbling back up to where it usually sits in the world.: (slap-slaps chest)
/ Nothing to be suspicious-about:: (open mouth to ceiling)
/ The Sheik's big-spend last week was flaring off his bank spigot,- not unusual for the Sheik's breed….
/ All thought he had blown a gasket when he challenged Bill Flops…. If, he is still daring, international race investors are calling shots 5-to-2 that the Sheik has not the intrepidity to fly outer space.

ENDING (VO) next scene--

VO, CUT TO:

EXT. NASA DESERT HILLS - VANDENBERG CALIFORNIA - MIDMORNING

The Sheik's Aide in arab cape, scanning the Shuttle launch facility by binoculars … locates them: Adjusts focus; and--

ZOOMS-IN: [preparation-meeting of Flops, Marcia, NASA] …

TRANSITION: Through binocular lens frame, to--

EXT. BELOW SHUTTLE-X - NEWLY-REOPENED LAUNCH FACILITY

Flops in his corporate windbreaker ("ALL LOADS / READ TO / MEGLOSOFT"), Marcia in her secretary-motifed jersey ("RUNS WITH / LETTER OPENER"), awed at the immense height of the Shuttle-X (4 SRB 150% ET), site-check with 5 NASA TECHS--

(fixedly peering up)
That must've taken one hock of a lot of moths' balls!

Techs choke guffaws to each other.

(still up)
Desert winds dried your tongues?

Techs choke guffaws.

They're technical people, Bill-- of a different department.

(high nods)
Mmmm!-- Haaard-waaare.

Techs choke guffaws.

Something I never really clicked-on.

Techs choke guffaws.

(comes down)
I guess you're right, Marcia. Well!: (to Techs)
We're both rarin' to go: Soon as your Shuttle is cocked.

Techs choke guffaws.

Just give us two nods when you're ready to roll.

Techs choke guffaws.

Maybe you should just e-mail them, sir: They can print that out.

CUT TO:

INT. NASA BRIEFING - CANAVERAL FLORIDA - LIT (LATE MORNING)

The walls are posted with huge plots of moon-race path options: curly-Q's indicate not-a-good-path.

Five NASA ADMINS seancing as jewel-encrusted meditating bead-counting guru mediums in robes over business-suits, Payrol, Dacy, all eyes closed, holding hands around the table, intoning "mmooooonn", finalize a Shuttle-X launch over planets+moons-tarot-cards on big-layout flow-diagrams:

Admin#1 holds photocards, Shuttle, moon, to his forehead …

(4 beats-- and shakes No)
We really need something more substantial:-- This is NASA-taboo.

All release.

It's at the President's request.

We understand this, Ross: But we need something --anything-- to meet our US-Congress-mandated scientific technological prowess, Criticality One, criteria:-- We simply cannot launch a Shuttle without, pizzazz!

(a beat)
There's not much room left, with ninety tons of OMS-fuel packed in the payload bay for the moon-trip.: (points to second deck)
Four-days laundry for me and Dacy-dear goes in the lower left corner of the lower passenger deck.

This we are taking into account.

We should deliver a small package to the backside of the moon.

It mustn't slow us down: This is a race,-- not a relay, mission.

(quieter with shakes-No)
/ Backside Surveyor … is not ready.
/ Laser reflectometer … to where?!…
/ The spare Voyager-mankind plaque?
/ Thinfilm leaflets from the war in Iraqistan? / Nobody read those, how American Republicanism was going to find, Weapons of Moon-Destruction …: (All giggle a beat)
/ It was a thought!

They all shake No.

Daddy … How will we drop-off our laundry while we're at the moon?

Admins marvel--

(to each)
That, should make a boost for the entire space program when the next Clementine mission discovers water and, dirty laundry, on the moon!

(into diagrams)
We'll shelve the Shuttle's internal laundry-line equipment facility for this mission:-- Give you twice the: (wristwatch to forehead)
actual total laundry-payload!

(points Payrol to)
We'll build-in a space-grade carbo-fibe hamper on the lower deck-- here, next to the shower: Shouldn't cost more than fifty-thousand.

(up; drops-off outfit)
Got to go, gang: Late again for the A-A Rehab' Colloquium.: (grabs briefcase, EXITS)
Later, all.

(chastens)
I told you, you should wear your watch on your forehead regularly.

(quiet to Payrol, Dacy)
That's Astro-physics, Anonymous.

(bounces matched fingers)
Space-tees, Shuttle-napkins, never-soil U-S-flag undies, Apollo-Geo-moon-towels, E-T's-on-a-ropes,…

You've got one smart kid, there, Mr. Payrol!

(daddy-smiling at Dacy)
Yes, I think so.

Now, Ross: About this simultaneity of launch with three-times the bay payload mass … This is real tricky flight-profiling!

It's the only way we could ensure all three of us would go through with it.

Yes: We concede the vantage-- but the logistics have fried three super-P-C's already!

(builds to bemoan)
We've never launched Shuttles this way before:- It's a roller-coaster, all, the way up,- and around,- and around, - and away … and around, and back … and around … and down.

While Payrol and Dacy-dear share a look and a happy smile;

You'll join-up with the others, one and three-quarter orbits later,- at the earliest.

(relaxes)
Enough time for an eu'Ropean lunch.

CUT OVER TO:

INT. COSMODROME VERTICAL-SUCTION-WIND-TUNNEL ANTEROOM - LIT

Alfaseti, Aide, ready for a test-ride in goggles and arab capes, set the timer to 30 minutes;-- the MOTOR REVS-UP.

They heave-open the door … and sucked-in DISAPPEAR-1-2-UP …

THE DOOR SUCKS SHUT.

INT. - 30 FT. UP - LIT

Hovering-about, grimacing caped heroes in uproaring wind …

CUT OVER TO:

INT. THIRD ROOM DOWN THE HALL - LIT

The Technocrats, Mayor, learn the public Shuttle News:--

(reading)
… in today's business news-release announced his contract to purchase a ride on the Russian Buran at two hundred million U.S. dollars in rubles, is settled.

A FLOOR THUMP, three rooms away.

(continues)
Faseti says, He is elated with the agreement and ready as a peregrine to hawk his dire nemesis, Mr. Bill Flops of MegloSoft, to the moon,

A CEILING CRASH (three rooms away).

(finishes sentence)
… and back….: (2 beats expectant)
The race is on, he said….: (a beat expectant)
Meanwhile … the Stock Exchange has taken to the announcement with a flurry of trading on the floor:

A FLOOR THUMP.

(a beat, continues)
The ruble-money market, only last week climbing back from its doldrum following the Sheik's extravagant spending spree, today soared--: (2 beats expectant)
--to an all-time high:

A CEILING CRASH.

(a beat, continues)
… ten percent over typical prior to its slide weeks ago: Market buyers are ecstatic. His Press Secretary says, The Sheik was buying nice things for his moon-shuttle trip!

A FLOOR THUMP.

Alfaseti bursts-in totally windblown, goggles around his neck, carrying two big attaches of payment money--

(blusters-up smiling)
Hey-- guys!

(dour)
/ Hi. / Hello.

(slightly somber)
My Aide will be coming along just fine-- tomorrow-- so:: (elated again)
Are we ready to do a little serious thinking?!

(dour)
/ Sure. / Da.

He opens the cases on the table. They inspect and count …

(whispers to #2)
-Gold certificate?-

(a beat: holds one)
This is a gold-certificate, ruble.

(smiles)
One-hundred million dollars of it!

We thought you were going to rid us all of it.

I did you one better: Gold-backed currency is now legal, again: You can spend it yourselves--!

The Russians buzz together; the WIND TUNNEL MOTOR WHINES DOWN (three rooms away) … They shrug--

(to themselves)
I always, thought, there was something sequel-ish about Arabs.

(to Sheik)
Okay.

CUT OVER TO:

INT. BIG RUSSIAN MAYOR'S OFFICE - EVENING LIT

Nine Mayors watch the Russian TV News, the Bazaar Clerk watching b.g. the still-bouncing-melting stack of gold-certificate rubles spreading-thin;

… just after signing the Shuttle-buy deal this afternoon: And we will keep watch on this!: (with e-CHARTS overlaid)
Here is how this, News Reporter has followed Sheik Alfaseti's spending spree: On two billion U.S.-dollars-worth of oil, the sheik charmed 2-billion, 3-hundred million, buying a two-hundred-million shuttle ride with one-hundred million in luxury extras,- keeping two billion: Thus he spent ziltch-ski, and, kept the equity in his oil. Leninsk City has two-hundred-million of that oil as payment for his mission, And nine other Russian towns included in Alfaseti's dealings received 18-hundred million oil for a bargain 17-hundred-10 million worth 19-hundred million, -thus effectually taxing them: but only one-hundred-million;- And the world tonight considers the difference, while the ruble soars! The Sheik's Secretary-Aide says their corporate motto is: We're number three, And you won't believe how hard we, try!

CUT OVER TO:

INT. FLOPS' OFFICE - DAY

Flops pauses in his sweaty gymsuit--

Cle-ver! He did it again! Must be where the Sheik got his nickname,: (resumes bend-flops)
Al,-Fass-Eddy.

That is, his name-- and much of that oil came from his reserves in Saddam's tanks that Saddam used to claim he couldn't sell it,-- so he got free storage and scraped the: (gathers)
sky for another cool fifty-million.

(laughing)
Cle-ver!

(exiting)
And, the Chinese Commerce Officials are here to see you, now.

Who?

(checks notes)
General, Poo Ting, and Major Fah: (and EXITS)
Ting.

Are they related?

And resumes flopping … the two CHINA OFFICERS enter;

(watch 2 flops)
Hello, Mr. Flops:: (smile a beat)
We're with the Chinese government: And we're here to help.

FADE TO:

INT. PEOPLE-MOVER CORRIDOR - DULLES AIRPORT VA - MIDMORNING

They HYPERWALK the beltways toward each other: Flops with his airport-diner glass of milk, milk-mustache, and Marcia;

Alfaseti, his son Hammed, and entourage of 10-Sheiks;

Payrol, and Dacy with her huge plump-stuffed Dolphin-Roy;

IN THE LOUNGE: the INTERPRETER is waiting, as All arrive--

(greets and grins)
Rossender Payrol, -good ire-Chat buddy:- Hope you're ready to watch me win.

(handshakes)
Billiard T. Flops, good I-R-Chat buddy: If I just watch, you may just win.

Nnngh.

And, Marcia,-- so pleased to see you again.: (kisses the lady)

Thank you, Ross-- and it's nice to: (and smiles to Dacy)
see Dacy-dear Payrol is going too.

Hi, Miss Marcia.

Gentlemen, Ladies: You know each other: This is good:: (gestures)
Allow me to introduce your primary competitor in this race: The world-famed Prince Al-Fass'Eddy-- little Bubiyan Minor's biggest, disco--: (grins)
Sheik.

(hand out)
Do Arabs shake?

(smiles and handshakes)
Only with the absolute certainty of charming, success, in the long run.

(meekly)
I guess that's me.

Alfaseti smirks bemused.

(proffers milk)
Care for a milk, Sheik?

(glares back)
Flops flips: Flip flop, flop flip.

Nnngh: Guess not before launch.: (fake-grins, diverts)
And what are they?

They, are his subsidiary paying passengers: The ten little Sheiks of Al Hamzah Tell, eastward in Bubiyan Minor.

Payrol and 10-Sheiks nod Greetings;

Like having ten fingers behind your back: Clever.: (fake-grins)
They got here real fast: No big Sheiks!?

The fast is part of the religion in that region.

(acknowledges)
Nnngh.

And this is the Skeik's little boy, Hammed.

Son of a Sheik! Hammed, my boy:: (shakes hands)
How's computing in the Bubiyan Minor, league?-- Heh.

Okay, mister oyster mogul.

(beat)
That's, computer mogul;- and I didn't bring any mountain oysters.

Others choke guffaws.

(disguises)
Alas, the Sheik's Press Secretary was delayed: -a minor, wind-tunnel engagement:- He will be aboard the Shuttle launch tomorrow evening in Baikonur.

(foresight chin-grins)
Better watch the extra weight in plaster and bandages, Sheik.

(imitates)
Nnngh.

(speaks up)
Let's get this over-with-- shall we, ladies and gentlemen?!

He opens and reads, a USA-President-sealed-envelope letter:

By Presidential Proclamation upon a sovereign soil of the United States of America, I, have been authorized to read, The Rules Of Attainment:--: (proclaims)
Whereas: This is a pure race of the highest intellectual technological prowess in the world, we shall have no littering, no smoking in the bathrooms, no more than one-and-a-half hours of satellite television per day, but you may continue on your Internet browser; no camping on the tele-phane; no rough shuttling; and, no skipping meals!: (looks about)
Are there any questions?

10-Sheiks buzz Arabic+English together, rapid stream:--

(with questioning looks)
/ We do not fast while traveling!
/ Is space-racing, traveling?
/ Traveling, is work!
/ We glide unpowered for four days!
/ Traveling, is going somewhere!
/ We don't stop at the moon!
/ Sunup is four days straight!
/ What is the rule for moon-racing?
/ Are we too short for puberty?
/ Is racing around the moon, sane?!
/ I feel like an old woman already!
/ You-- wish--!
/ What month is it when, we, go around the moon?!

What's the question?

They are concerned about how-close we may come to Holy Day Fast.

How important is that?

They must begin fasting on-time, right at sunup.

How will they see the sunup from beyond the Earth, in outer space?

(to them in Arabic)
How will you see the sunup …

/ Yes-yes. / We heard him.

And continue to buzz Arabic…

(3 beats)
They will follow-up, and let you know.

Thank you: That is very reasonable of them.: (resets)
And: one last thing,-- gentlemen;--
Dacy-dear: Look away for a moment;- And you, too, Marcia, Please.

Dacy and Marcia face away while three men unpocket Shuttle gloves: Payrol, NASA; Flops, NASA; Alfaseti, CCCP (USSR)--

(shrugs to Payrol)
Leftover, from the cold war.

And faces held back, they slap each other glove-to-gloves.

(flicks dust off his)
It is now official-- for all time!

CUT OVER TO:

Petry System Family Wision USA

presents

(a spec'script)

The Great Space Race
-of the twenty-first century-

a space science fiction romantic adventure comedy, PG-13 feature

Mr. Raymond Kenneth Petry, Strategic-Director
a Wision--SesQuaTercet USA production

Three eccentric billionaires launch three space shuttles
in a great space-race to the moon backside and back

"And they're off ... way-way-way-way off!"

[index][script][music][sets&settings][budget][prospectus][roles]

[Music specified in this screenplay is the Strategic-Director's selection]

Act 1

'Saved to diskette'

[act 2]

digital music [var] © [tbd; extant works, Screenwriter's selections and annotations; not otherwise representative of project Sesquatercet]

The theory of measurement propounded in this work is not to be cited (as) considering contraband or corpses; Nor are the intellectual appurtenances hereïn to be used for or in the commission of crimes against persons, peoples, properties, or powers (States).

© 2001-2010 Mr. Raymond Kenneth Petry

Petry System Family Wision USA

presents

(a spec'script)

The Great Space Race -of the twenty-first century-

a space science fiction romantic adventure comedy, PG-13 feature

Mr. Raymond Kenneth Petry, Strategic-Director a Wision--SesQuaTercet USA production

Three eccentric billionaires launch three space shuttles in a great space-race to the moon backside and back

"And they're off ... way-way-way-way off!"

[index][script][music][sets&settings][budget][prospectus][roles]

[Music specified in this screenplay is the Strategic-Director's selection]

Act 1

'Saved to diskette'

[act 2]

digital music [var] © [tbd; extant works, Screenwriter's selections and annotations; not otherwise representative of project Sesquatercet]

The theory of measurement propounded in this work is not to be cited (as) considering contraband or corpses; Nor are the intellectual appurtenances hereïn to be used for or in the commission of crimes against persons, peoples, properties, or powers (States).

© 2001-2010 Mr. Raymond Kenneth Petry

The Great Space Race
-of the twenty-first century-

Mr. Raymond Kenneth Petry, Strategic-Director
a Wision--SesQuaTercet USA production

Three eccentric billionaires launch three space shuttles
in a great space-race to the moon backside and back