The Great Space Race [act 4/5] 'Homeward again'

FADE IN:

EXT. FLOPS FRONT WINDOW - 180K MI TO EARTH, (DAY LATER)

INSIDE (VO), Flops, Marcia, arms-on-shoulders, toast Earth: (From a late-1950-60's school children's songbook)

(singing)
"Blast off!--
We're heading for out,-er space;
Off, we go at a zip,-ping pace!
Our rockets are ready,
So all hands be steady:
We're off, to visit the moooon!"

(spoken)
Visited:-- Past-tense visit.

Kindergarten was so long ago, Bill.

And we're finally beginning to understand the ramifications….: (peers out the front)
Yet Earth looks as small as a moon.

Earth-image reflects low on his passing windshield …

ZOOM: 50 MILES back, to the still-last-place returnee:

CONTINUOUS ZOOM TO:

EXT. PAYROL SHUTTLE APPROACHES - FROM MOON - SUNLIT

As if eating out the moon: … closer … CLOSER … -WHILE-

INSIDE, Dacy crocodile-spins mid-air upside-down, contently dance-exercising, listening to earphone-music from an MP3 player co-spinning under her head; hair flips in her face;

TRANSITION: Through window frame, into--

INT. PAYROL COMMAND, PASSING THROUGH - (CONTINUOUS)

FAINT QUIET MUSIC - as she spins mid-air …

SWING AROUND: Dacy …

POV: Dacy: DANCING TO SURROUND-SOUND MUSIC ("Dancing On The Ceiling") … crocodile-spins … hair flips in her face …

TRANSITION: ZOOM: Room back and out solid walls behind--

EXT. PAYROL SHUTTLE PRECEDES - INTO EARTH - SUN-SIDE BRIGHT

SILENCE - in outer space.

TELESCOPE TO:

EXT. AFAR: PINWHEELING SHEIK SHUTTLE PASSES - SUN-SIDE LIT

Telescopic fast-tracking looks unsteady blurry.

CUT BACK TO:

INT. FLOPS SHUTTLE OFFICE

Flops daintily extricates a diskette, like a squished bug--

Marcia!

(enters over-head)
Here.

(looks around not up)
Marcia?: (finally looks up)
What are you doing up there?

You called;- I found another hatch.

It appears, Space Shuttles are full of holes.

NASA is either hatching holes, or hatching ideas to stuff them: What do you need?

I have cracked, the back-door on Alfaseti's hack, on my P-C.

Is that what your luna-attic brainstorm was about?

Yup!

What'd he do to it?

(gesticulates about PC)
He installed a nonreplicating viral bug to capture keystrokes and glean for passwords by detecting temporal spacing of short string pairs. Then it transmits by opening and closing a hidden window so fast you miss it on these five-gigahertz computers:- It document-requests to a redirect website in Russia, which clears the location-pathname so the browser never displays what was sent…. He must have a sniffer along the way, reading the data … Clever, really: I caught it just before it got to a significant username-password pair. And I've changed my e-key master-lock,- so the world is safe again.

It must have gone through thousands of slowly typed pairs of words.

Yeah-- well: Never-learning to type fast, has curious advantages.

Maybe the Pass-key-entry process should involve more functions, to disguise its speed.

Good idea.

Does, nonreplicating-viral, mean it's a gay bug?

Hmmm: I'm not sure whom we can ask about that ultimately.

What are you going to do about the viral bug, in the meanwhile?

(waves diskette)
I have captured it on this diskette-- without destroying it: That took, cunning and daring!

Yeah: Those nonreplicating viral bugs tend to be suicidal under scrutiny! Best to avoid them all.

(muses diskette)
Ummm, yeah … but I thought he would have done something really spectacular!

You have cleverer plans?

(grins)
Ultimately … For starter, I gen'ed-up an autoresponse-doc for the next time he accesses his scavenger pop.

HAL TOOTLES-UP a little warning-- Flops checks the program.

(hoots a bigger grin)
There he is, now!

CUT TO:

INT. SHEIK LOWER DECK - (AS CONTIGUOUS)

Aide and the Newswomen lying huddled on the back wall, are again busy at his Master-Control Box; his display flowing loaded with '3's sprinkled with a few '4's;

Any new numbers, this time?

(lower voice)
It looks like a sheet-load of '3's.

(puzzled, a beat more)
I've never seen it do this … He must have typed ten-thousand '3's very slowly, one-at-a-time….

(a beat, points)
There's a '4' … and another … Could those be important? Or missed '3's!

(a beat to #3)
Could that be a new way to type a super-secret password?

(grins, shakes his head)
The computer mogul or his Secretary must have discovered my golden-bug!

It's hard to see the '4's, through the '3's….

(mutual grinning)
Oooooooh…

INT. SHEIK COMMAND - SUN-ALTERNATING-DARK

2/10-Sheiks seated together in Aide's middle chair where the spin is not strong, their LAPTOPS HISSING disconnection …

(arms emphatic, bemoans)
Nada! Ri-ehn! K'ein! Oh,- My laptop is un-sync'able! …

Isn't that good? --Or bad?

It's unspeakable! … Indefinable! … Unutterable! … Inglorious! …

It's only a mega-baud … Not that, much to get upset about.

(semidirect quieter)
Don't you have something else you can do while I lambaste my browser?

Are you going to roast it, too?

(glares back teethy)
With tithe of mince,- How's that?

CUT TO:

INT. PAYROL COMMAND - 60K MI TO EARTH - SE CHINA EVENING

Dacy, laptop composition blank, is sitting cross-legged backwards in her chair, resting on the panel, staring up--

What, am I going to write, in my school essay about this trip around the moon? There's just not a lot of activity going-on in outer space!

You can write about that: All the things you'd miss, if you lived in outer space; … And, you might write about how you danced on the ceiling halfway from the moon to Earth….

(smiles)
That's not a big deal: All the kids learn to dance to music in school: Didn't you do that in your day?!

(reminisces)
Dacy-dear: When I was your age, we stage-rehearsed being President of the United States of America:-- All the kids did it: We knew we needed the practice for when one of us got elected.

Hmmm:- He does, definitely, need practice;-- I suppose he didn't go to your school.

No: He went to Cambridge, England, for college,- and studied to be king,- we all supposed, or wished.

(a little astonished)
You knew, he was going to be the President, when you were a kid!?

In an after-the-fact, predictive sort of way … yes: We all studied English to some extent: We figured, The best way to preserve America, is to preserve its place in the world: Keeping guard on its present and former relations, and dignity … And we also expected that sooner or later a king would come along, who had studied in, America,- and we'd have to stand-up to him peaceably … Great men don't quail at responsibility!

So, He, went to England, to get a microscopic view of the next king?

(smiles)
We're expecting something a little larger, than microscopic.

(giggles)
I mean, Very close-up, on details. … That must have been some, party school, you attended!

CUT TO:

INT. NASA SPACECOMMAND TECHNICAL ROOM - LOW LIT (DAWN)

Satellite video-feeds replay a solar coronal mass ejection expanding sideways, but then significantly Earthward,- and lastly the display speckles as the proton flux arrives;

Run it again: Loop it.

DESK#2 keys, looping the replay--

(points)
It's big!- and fast,- and wild: The flare thirty-eight hours ago was X-Six, off the side;- but the C-M-E just hit SOHO and ACE;- We may have another Bastille-Day event arriving in less than an hour, Peak in two… Time to batten down all hatches!

(keys phone … orders)
I concur on the order of the storm warning: Shut down all satellites!

We could call this one, Tora Bora Day!

(to #2)
That was December.

(to #3)
The size of the event is similar.

This means we can expect upwards of an S-3 radiation storm.

(epitaphs)
Not, going to be fun, around here: Admin gets really irate when he sees his equipment scrolling pi.

Maybe we should lock-down Admin.

(chuckles)
Now there's a brilliant suggestion.

CUT TO:

INT. SHEIK COMMAND - SUN-ALTERNATING-DARK

O.S. GIGGLING Aide, Newswomen, below deck; Helm, Alfaseti, Engineer, 6/10-Sheiks, repose spun against walls, tossing trinkets spiraling in-out about room-center where sit the 2/10-Sheiks with dud laptops; 1/10-Sheiks dangles by one hand from a chair, 2nd reaching to catch his free hand …

Free-spin costs nothing: It's the ideal of perpetual motion.

Needs human-hibernation equipment.

Angular momentum has no useful properties onboard a space shuttle.

(to Helm)
Don't you need to be gyroscoping us Earthward, toward the atmosphere?!

(nonchalant)
Nope. We went into the flat spin 19 degrees post-Periselene; Gyroscopic action will keep us 19 degrees over the moon phase, for 33 degrees, the ideal reentry angle, when we arrive at the other side of the Earth.

Upside down!

But, bottom-forward!

(understatement)
At least we won't bounce:- We burn.

(in disbelief to Helm)
You mean to tell me, that, in the midst of near catastrophic disaster behind the moon, you were computing genius-perfect celestial mechanical alignment for deorbit at Earth the next day!?

Wouldn't do it any, other, way-- I think better under pressure.

Alfaseti has gotten his fix of utter-disbelief for the day.

(roasting routine)
Take my Casino browser, -Please!- It only made me one, quick fortune.

How did yours make a quick fortune?

It stopped on a dime.

Other 10-Sheiks groan-laugh …

(rocking in earphones)
I've heard this one before.

(a beat)
I don't believe American computers will really take-over the world…!

Oooooh,- I don't, know! … Why not?!

The faster they run, the sooner they fail.

Other 10-Sheiks groan-laugh …

(rocking in earphones)
I've heard this one before.

CUT TO:

INT. FLOPS SHUTTLE OFFICE - ION STORM BEGINS

MILD SPOT-FLASHES; PC's BEEPING-crashing-restarting-BEEPING … Flops is half-under the desk, dispositioning cables:

(selecting)
Black wire, connects, black; Blue wire, to blue; Cordovan, to … Who dropped the shoelace?: (irks)
Consumer-Tested Products! C-T-P.

(half-enters at top)
Bill: Houston is calling to say we're entering a solar-wind ion storm: and to expect electronic troubles for a few hours until we're through the worst of it.

(perts)
Oh!: (relaxes)
Alright-- instant glitch vapor: Just add sunspots.: (extricates)
We don't have problems like this on Earth-- until they brown-out the entire power grid.: (half a beat)
Are they still vid-linking?!

(EXITS)
Yes.

(grabs PDA, examines)
Okay: I'll be right up….

And pockets it, and floats up…

INT. COMMAND

Marcia seated, videolinking with [Houston]; Flops enters;

(advising)
That is correct: The solar coronal mass ejection ion storm hit SOHO and ACE, satellites, thirty minutes ago, and it's a hot one: It'll ramp-up within the hour, then decline over several hours: It's going to get ticklish: You'd best rotate away from the sun: Put your fuselage aft-end toward the sun: That'll cut the radiation hazard for you in the cabin. We're telling the other racers the same.

(sitting)
Roger, Houston: Will do!

(signal-delay 1 sec.)
Roger, Flops: Will keep you informed.

(to Marcia)
Might be better if we remain on the lower deck, away from window-scatter.

Are windows more transparent to protons?

(thinks, smiles)
No,… probably not:- Probably safer up here;… probably doesn't matter.

Aren't protons matter?!

(smiles again)
Yeah: Not much: but lots of energy.

This is where we become sun-bunnies.

Ahh-yuh.

CUT TO:

INT. PAYROL COMMAND - TURNING FROM EARTH TO ANTISOLAR STARS

Dacy (OC) below her seat; Payrol controlling, videolinks:

(advising)
… increasing over the hour to full strength. Cap-Com advises, Keep the Shuttle antipodal to the sun; three hours if possible: The thickness of the engine and payload compartments will significantly reduce your solar radiation intake. The other racers are doing the same.

Thank you, Houston: We're complying presently: But what do we do if the ion storm knocks out stationkeeping guidance, and the coordinates start to drift?!

(signal-delay 1 sec.)
That's the unknown part in this equation, Ross: You won't drift fast, unless a vernier-thruster suffers a blowout. Best let your platform coordinates settle for a minute, then command the verniers off and pull your power-breakers, and wait-out the storm if you can.

Roger, Houston.

(1 sec.)
Roger, Payrol: We'll keep you updated until the last radio-link drops-out.

What does an ion storm look like?

There are all kinds, Dacy-dear: Some are colorful, like the Polar Auroras; Some disrupt Earth's ionospheric radio-signal-bounce capability; Big ones can knock-out global communications satellites.: (looks-about 2 beats)
Where are you, Dacy?

Down here.

(locates her)
What are you doing below the seats?

(inspecting undersides)
There are code numbers and letters under here-- just like under the antique chairs at home …: (looks up from under)
Have you seen those?

CUT TO:

INT. SHEIK COMMAND - TURNING (SUN AND DARK)

Helm, Alfaseti, repositioned on front windows, at command: [HOUSTON] SUFFERING RADIO-SYNC-LOCK-LOSS every 3-sec. turn:

(1 sec. HISS)
… this storm will gain …: (2 sec. HISS)
… additionally three hours …: (2 sec. HISS)
… Shuttle Control advises …: (2 sec. HISS)
… point the shuttle away …: (4 sec. HISS)

What did he say?

(piecing)
He said, There's a storm raging for three hours and we should point the shuttle away from the Earth.

(doubtful)
That can't affect us outside the …: (abruptly at Earth)
Atmosphere!-- Did they use a weapon of mass destruction…?!

DISSOLVE TO:

INT. FLOPS SHUTTLE OFFICE - (ION STORM)

PC's BEEPING-crashing-restarting-BEEPING; Flops half-under the desk again, rechecking cables; Marcia near, watches;

(3 beats)
Basically, no difference, Marcia.

(looks under)
Should there be a difference, once it starts to fail?

Restarts, shouldn't get so far each cycle … It must be remapping memory all-over-the-gigabytes, to recover…

Are you going to sit under there and nurse P-C-dropouts for the next few hours?

I suppose I don't have to: P-C …: (extricates himself)
Processors run pretty-much the same speed whether working or crashing.

And if they self-test for failure, they fail the test … either way?

(leans back, pondering)
Yeah. Maybe there's another product improvement to be discovered here: Wind-Panes-Ionospheric-Explorer,-- operates in nano-bursts between solar-flare protons.

Stormy Wind-Panes.

(grins)
Something like that, Detection or Correction, or Rejection…!

Why not run the P-C during cycles of 60-Hertz house-power, Self-check each cycle, And either keep the results or redo…?

That's a novel approach, Marcia.

P-C's already work pages of memory… This'll work like pages of time…!

(intent on her)
Marcia,-- I really-like the way you think.

Like a big red silicon eraser.

They giggle together.

CUT TO:

EXT. PAYROL SHUTTLE COMES SIDEWAYS - SUNNY ION-GLOWING TAIL

Payrol sitting high-in-the-saddle, is reading a book…

INT. PAYROL COMMAND - LIT (ION STORM)

Dacy inspects all her electronic toys GLITCHING-BEEPING…

Dad-dy…!?

Yes, Dacy-dear?

Is there a Bermuda Triangle in outer space?

The Bermuda Triangle is a myth-story, Dacy-dear.

I'll say!-- My toys are all gone to the grave-e-yard-shtick….

EXT. PAYROL SHUTTLE RECEDES - (SIDEWAYS; ION-GLOWING TAIL)

CUT TO:

INT. SHEIK COMMAND - TURNING - PURPLE-AIR-GLOW (ION STORM)

IONIZED ARGONATED AIR GLOW … spiny LIGHTNING BOLTS ZAP loudly across the room, tracing disappearing vapor lines …

Alfaseti, reseated, CATCHES A BOLT-- his HAIR+BEARD BLOOM!-

(in bloom)
Ayeee!- Where is this coming from?!

They must have meant a solar storm.

The atmosphere in here is an argon-oxygen mix: The solar ion storm has lowered its breakover-voltage: and the equipment is arcking over it.

Sheik#1,2 CATCH ONE BOLT,-- squealing as BEARDS+HAIR BLOOM!

INT. LOWER DECK - SAME PURPLE-AIR-GLOW

Newswomen hiding behind panels,-- engage in a shoot-out: LIGHTNING BOLTS LEAP from their fingertips-as-pistols at opponents … occasionally on-target: whose HAIR BLOOMS …

Aide crawls along the back wall; lightning bolts chase into nearby panels, just missing him … as he approaches a side--

(coarse-whispers)
They're planning a sneak-attack!

(coarse-whispers reply)
Good!-- Tell them we're ready with an ambush!

(crawling back)
O-kay!

FADE TO:

EXT. FLOPS SHUTTLE COMES - NO ION-GLOW (4 HOURS LATER)

INT. FLOPS COMMAND - 25K MI TO EARTH - SW CHINA EVENING

Slightly hissy silence; None here.

INT. FLOPS GAMEROOM

Game PC's restarting; Side-by-side under the desk, Flops, Marcia, check cables:

Yup. Yup. Yup. And, Yup! Looks like that was the worst of it, Marcia.

O.S. ALARM-TONE Command proximity-radar, gets insistent;

Until they crash under normal operation.

(backing out)
Is that optimistic, or pessimistic?

Yes.

I mean, Which?

(turning backing out)
Maybe they should just generalize and call it, am-bi-mistic.

CLUNK-HISS! VERNIER SHOVES the Shuttle-- mutually pensive.

CUT OUT TO:

EXT. GEO SATELLITE FLIPPING IN SMOKE - 22K MI ORBIT

Shuttle hyper-receding; the vernier-whiff smoke DISSIPATES.

CUT BACK IN TO:

INT. FLOPS COMMAND - (AS CONTINUOUS)

ALARM BEEPING; Flops, Marcia, quick-enter:

(sits, looks out-about)
It must have been an orbiting satellite:- I wonder, whose.

(into a satellite-map)
We should be passing GEO-stationary orbits right now: According to this celestial map, that could have been a Chinese F-Y-2-K,-- Fohng-yuun??

(keys OFF BEEPS)
I don't know:-- What do you think?

It's not a question: It's singsong: the way Chinese is pronounced.

Think they'll notice?

That isn't the question … How high-up, will they notice?!

Do they have astronauts in space?

I mean, in government.

Nnngh!- Could we have avoided this by always keeping someone up here?

A watched vacuum never fills.

(as-if sotto voce)
That would explain the cosmos…

CUT AWAY TO:

EXT. MODERN SUBURB HILL - WESTERN CHINA - JUST AFTER SUNSET

All windows in all houses, ALL TV'S SYNCHRONOUSLY FLIP …

CUT INTO:

INT. TV ROOM - A MODERN WESTERN CHINESE SUBURB HOME

China GOV-NEWS FLIPS on a modern satellite-dish PC-HDTV; a Siamese HOUSE-CAT dangles by front paws on the edge of the desk: nose and paw to a white computer-mouse (gray finger-wheel between 2 pink-buttons), which it topples onto the floor; drops; and sniffs, and bats-about.

CUT TO:

INT. PAYROL COMMAND - 25K MI TO SKIRT-PASS NIGHTSIDE CHINA

Dacy changes several channels on a blasting-snowy triple-ghost-image TV; Payrol reads a book;

There aren't any good T-V stations out here: They all look like three channels overlapped in a blizzard!

Probably the Van Allen Belt…. Wait 'til we get closer to Earth: It'll cheer up.

This is just like driving across country-- where the radio stations keep changing every minute.

(puts down book)
When did you drive cross-country?

I was just relating it to your own experiences.

(smiles, resumes book)
Oh-- thank you.

CUT ACROSS TO:

INT. FLOPS COMMAND - 20K MI (TO SKIRT-PASS)

Radar has a blue-green Doppler BLIP BLINKING near Earth;

(reviews Nav-Orbit-Radar)
About twenty thousand miles-- about an hour to reentry …: (sees blip, points)
Bill: What's this little blue blip blinking on the screen, here?

E-mail message?

It's here on the, Doppler, radar.

Doppler-- that's speed: high speed: Blue is, coming this way-- very, high speed.

Is someone coming up to greet us?

(searches ahead)
They don't need to.

Maybe we should ask Mr. Payrol.

Probably will eventually.: (keys intercom)
Hey, Ross, good ire-chat-buddy-- this is your pal, Bill; … I don't mean to break your radio silence or any no-no thing like that -though of course we do have the necessary means,- but: Would you have, a tiny blue, blip, blinking on your radar?

(operator-voice, quips)
I'm sorry:-- You have reached a temporarily disconnected number: Please insert twenty-five cents per second to remain on hold: Your call is very important to us.: (still keyed: loud-away)
Hi, Daddy: It's for you: Mr. Flops is jiving some: He wants your spare tiny blinking blue blips.: (resume voice-quip)
We are pleased to announce your destination has been reconnected: Please, hang up and try again!

Sure. But it's not like he's asking you for his paycheck:-- That, would be serious!

(2 beats)
I've plumb-run-out of tiny spare blue blinking blips, Bill: What can I do for you?

On the radar scan, Ross-- I've got something in-coming-- I don't think it's e-mail.

(2 beats)
Well, yeah, sort-of blue: Two of them. What do you suppose it means?

Something in-coming really fast, is all I can figure; but, boy, is that strange!

(busting giggles)
Fast incoming is, strange, Bill?-- Boy, I'd never thought I'd hear you say, that!

(a beat: polite)
Marcia, please: This is government work: We take fast in-coming very seriously.

Let's ask Houston.

Good idea: We're close enough.: (keys Comm)
Houston-- this is Flops.

(0.3 sec.)
Hello, space travelers: Welcome to planet Earth.

Thank you, Houston: We have tiny blue blinking blips on our radars: What do you make of this?

(0.3 sec.)
We are picking up several missile launches around the world.

Where are they going?!

(0.3 sec.)
No-where yet.

Is this some kind of cosmic welcome-joke?

(0.3 sec.)
We have the President on Vid-Line-One: Would you like to see him?

(checks Marcia)
Sure, I suppose.

The [PRESIDENTIAL COMMAND SEAL] appears on-display;

Ladies and gentlemen: The President of the United States of America….

The [President] himself appears on-display--

Mah fellow, Amerhicans: Within the hour, just minutes after a major X-Six solar coronal mass ejection ion storm blitzed our global satellite network, our top-secret off-the-shelf automated stand-alone over-the-horizon Distant Early Warning system detected three missiles in-coming from behind the moon …: (slaps shoe on desk)
We knew, they'd do this!

This must be us.

We have therefor launched a medium-scale proportionately preemptory preliminarily recallable nuclear counter strike in preparation for the really big one; And Russia has correspondingly launched her own medium-scale proportionately preemptory preliminarily recallable nuclear counter strike; And China has launched one Long March inter-continental ballistic-peace-missile symbolically;-- however, that has strayed from its program-designated target, and at their request we had to shoot it down…. We are at this time determining, just who-in-the-world has launched this first major moon-missile assault on Earth; The combined U.S.A.-Russian-and-Chinese Multinational Intelligence Service has exhausted its top-forty list of ten-thousand suspects … Meanwhile, we are letting them know, that we, mean business,- as usual: Earth is waiting…!

(mildly exasperates)
It's us! It's us!: (keys intercom: Payrol)
Ross: They're shooting at-- us!

We're not nuclear.

We are, from the backside of the moon!: (to intercom)
Ross! Are you picking-up all this?!

Sure am, Bill.: (a beat)
Let me have a crack at the President: See what's troubling him.

He's all yours, first, Ross.: (to Marcia)
Downstairs! And put-on your best: (and jumps for hatch)
video-gamesmanship hat!

(follows)
Yes, sir!

CUT TO:

INT. PAYROL COMMAND - 15K MI (TO SKIRT-PASS)

INTERCUT FOR EMPHASIS: Videolinked to the President--

Mr. President: Sir: This is a civil outrage: You know who we are!-- You can't forget us in a moment of international triumph!

(0.3 sec.)
Yes: But when, did I know this, Roose-baby? My constituents want to know! And they will have the answer, from me! We can't let unknowns remain unknown, in the national security arena!

Mr. President: Can't we settle this little dispute ourselves, and let bye-gones be, gone-bye?!

(0.3 sec.)
And neglect my Constituents? Never, Roose-baby!

But, millions of megatonnes, Mr. President!?

(0.3 sec.)
You know our never-give-up-never-give-in policy, Roose-baby!

Negup-negin!? But we're winning a race, here!

(0.3 sec.)
That's what you said in the Election, too.

But, we're winning this race for you, too!

(0.3 sec.)
I recall you said something to such an effect during the Election.

Well, it's just not fair, Mr. President: You can't expect to win this race vicariously: This is no political virtual-reality race:-- This is the reality of virtually the entire space-race in this third new millennium!

(0.3 sec.)
I don't recall any such thing being specified in the rules of the race: Who can or cannot win.

Races are won by racers and their teams first, Mr. President,- then, their sponsors and bettors!

(0.3 sec.)
You're beginning to see my point, Roose-baby: The best, must, win! And, we, are the best team here!

CUT TO:

INT. FLOPS GAMEROOM

Flops in full headgear pushes box-On-buttons sequentially:

(1st box)
X-Sport, On.: (2nd box)
Y-Sport, On.: (3rd box)
Y-Nought-Sport, On.

He pushes one last button, activating the main display: An audio-visual GAME MONITORS his voice level,--

This is ready?

(connecting, keying)
All set: Just press, to Transmit.

Hold on to your hatpins:-- We're going who-do-astronomics in the: (and keys)
present tense…!

CUT THROUGH TO:

INT. WHITE HOUSE OVAL OFFICE - WASHINGTON DC - 10:45 AM EDT

[Payrol] on Display#1; President at his desk, attended by the HOMELAND SECURITY ADVISOR, and the SECRETARY OF DEFENSE reading her book THREE IF BY TERROR, wearing Geneva-lawful identifiable-combatant signs and snazzy velcro-stick guns;--

(low unto Secretary)
I like these snazzy uniforms:: (resticks gun velcro)
Best things ever to hit America, since the Geneva Conventions!

(flips a page)
Nnng!

(bargaining)
Then how about five million voters, plus three additional precincts,-- and you keep the chad?!

Phantasmagoric [WOG:Flops] (SURROUND SOUND) morphs onto Display#2 in video-game-enhanced colorifics and virtual-gaud combination horror (like mcp/Tron and The Mask)--

This, is the voice, of Wog!--

Startled,- they dive behind furnitures;

We are many … We are one … We are Poly,-Wog….: (a beat)
Recall, your punificent missiles or the Earth shall be dis-integrated altogether in one piece!

(surfaces shaking)
We, We won't bow down, to you, Wog.

This is the voice of Wog: We do not take No, for an answer, until it is the only answer you have left! Hah! Hah! Hah! Hah!

We, can't, give-in to your demands, Wog.

You have heard, the ultimatum, of Wog, Earthlings: Even now, we have what little remains of the Earth, already within our sights!

Please, Wog: Do not disintegrate the Earth,-- it would annihilate our political infrastructures!

(0.3 sec., hesitant)
You have political infrastructures?

Yes, yes: It's all in good clean fun:-- See: On the other channel, is one of our favorite, third-party politicians: You can eat him first.

(0.3 sec.)
Real nice, there, Mr. President.

(worried apology)
It's to save Earth, Roose-baby: I'd nuke the planet down the middle, if it'd save the Earth we stand on!

(0.3 sec.)
Take my constituents first, Mr. President.

(brightens)
Really? Is that a promise, Roose-baby?

(0.3 sec.)
Are you, going to eat them?

No.

(0.3 sec.)
Then, I suppose it's all right: I can always win them back again, in a three-way debate.

(big-smarmy grin)
Okay: It's a deal:: (to Wog)
Wog: Hear us: We have struck a political cinch-deal: We can de-schedule our nuclear missiles!

(0.3 sec.)
This, is the voice, of Wog:- We are many, We are one, We are Poly,-Wog:: (a beat)
You have six of your Earth minutes to recall your missiles: That, is, all…!

[Wog-FIST 3-D SMASHES-out his screen to fizzle and spark of electricity and smoked components]-- they duck again.

CUT AWAY TO:

EXT. SHEIK SHUTTLE, VERY SLOWED TURN (BOTTOM FORWARD)

Moon usual-sized again, steady in the "sky above" …

INT. SHEIK COMMAND - SUN SLOWLY ROUNDING ONE SIDE

Aide, Newswomen, Engineer, are running fatigued mid level around the walls; while 10-Sheiks handlocked-pinwheel in a blur suspended mid room:--

I can't take much more of this…!

(watching Helm data)
Keep, going-- keep … going …

(keying for data)
Just … a moment …: (a beat)
Got it!--: (triumphant)
We have recovered our fix, on the Earth-space coordinate-system,- And the other race teams:- We are still ahead but they are closing-in fast: Everything is coming back together for the finish-line…!-- But, What…

Radar shows 4-object-blips closing toward themselves,--

(puzzling radar blips)
… is, this third blip, and fourth?!

Relax, mujahs: Take a rest!- We have our celestial fix on Earth.

ROOM SPINS-UP as runners slow to walk, sit, sprawl, rest …

Who's going to let-go first?!

Makes no difference!- We part together!

(quieter)
Does he know what he's saying?

(equal)
He's speaking English.

Building cry of "AHHH!"- Their pinwheel shatters, "LAHH!"--

(passing centrifugal)
/ Prime time! / Bug News! / Momma!: (bouncing along walls)
/ I'm dood! / Ahhh! / Wayyy to go!: (rolling along walls)
/ Oh-boyyy! / Whoaa! / Whew-wheww!

… and stop….

(sprawled on a wall)
I'm poo-ped!

(sprawled near)
Life in outer space, consists of running in circles and squares, and making the best of each momentum!

(a beat, almost elated)
We will enter the atmosphere two thousand miles further east than originally planned….

CUT TO:

INT. PAYROL COMMAND - 10K MI (TO SKIRT-PASS)

How did that happen, Daddy?- I thought all, intercontinental missiles were under control-- by the U.S.A. and Russia and China.

Well, Dacy-dear… We've signed, intercontinental-ballistic-missile treaties … and we've signed, anti-ballistic-missile missile treaties… But we've never signed a treaty for anti-anti-ballistic-missile-missile missiles… -which,- proliferated, on the Pentagon black-budgets….

(a beat)
Are you a pro-lifer, Daddy?

(a beat)
Proliferation, is a different subject amplification, Dacy-dear.

Oh, okay.

FADE 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 4

'Homeward again'

[act 5]

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 4

'Homeward again'

[act 5]

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