Syberg Screenplay

"Syberg"

A Screenplay by

Lawrence Peters

Karen Parker-Peters

From the Short Story

Lawrence Peters

1^st Revision October 2, 2001

2^nd Revision March 26, 2002

Lawrence Peters

1 EXT. MORNING, DESERT HIGHWAY 1

We see an old, peeling billboard, with a large black tree on it and the name "Shady Tree Tavern". Next to it is written "Hot Coffee, Hard Liquor, Steak & Eggs -- Who cares?" with an arrow pointing up the road. An old Mustang is butted up against the billboard. The driver’s door is open. SY BERG appears dead in the backseat. He is sitting backwards on the seat, face pressed against the seat back.

The sound of a passing car rushes by. SY BERG slowly wakes up, pulls his face from the seat with a sucking sound and sits up slowly with a major hangover. He has an imprint of the seat on his face.

He sits up to get out of the car and bumps his head off of the ceiling. Some sort of focus comes back into his eyes. Equilibrium is still off.

He closes his eyes which makes his head swim a bit. He promptly opens them.

Trying to become conscious through the haze of the hangover, SY BERG reaches into his pocket with his left hand, pulls out a cigarette and sticks it in his mouth. He reaches forward with his right hand to punch in the cigarette lighter on the dashboard. His right hand subtly reflects the sunlight.

He lights up the cig, puts the lighter back in its spot, and sits back. His right hand feels a little numb. He flexes the fingers. A clacking sound. He looks at his hand.

Metal. Well done, for what his hazy sight could make out. Smooth, beautiful. He moves it around, tests it out.

SY BERG V.O. Oh my god.

You're not human anymore.

He notices the blood on his shirt and quickly checks the rest of his body. SY BERG V.O. Not entirely anyway. What did I do last night? What did I do? This isn’t happening. He looks at his hand and passes out.

Some time passes. An 18-wheeler rushes by, air horn blaring. SY BERG is shaken awake by the horn. The force of the truck makes the bobbing dog’s head shake on the back dash.

SY BERG What a dream. His right hand comes up to touch his head and he catches sight of it, shiny and metallic. Realization settles in. He feels it with his left hand and slowly begins to see how much further up his arm it goes. His hand hesitates at his bicep, grabs it, and sighs with great relief. At least part of his arm is still flesh and blood. SY BERG Coffee. I need coffee. The metal hand turns the ignition, light glinting off of it. 2 EXT. DAY, DIRT PARKING LOT 2 The Mustang pulls into the Shady Tree Tavern parking lot. SY BERG gets out of the car and slides along the side of it, keeping his metal hand hidden until he gets to the trunk, opening it after fumbling around with the keys. He rummages around in the trunk, finds a clean shirt and a pair of gloves, puts the right glove on and puts the left one in his left pocket. He slams the trunk shut. 3 INT. DAY, TAVERN 3 Doors open and the day lights up the inside of the tavern. It’s an old dark tavern with booths on one side and a long bar on the other. The doors close behind SY BERG and he sits in an empty booth, the tavern again in darkness.

GRACIE, the pretty, sassy waitress who can kick almost any man’s butt, puts down a cup and pours him a coffee, fast, in one motion, squeezes his shoulder and is off.

He sips the coffee with his left hand, keeping the metallic hand hidden below the table.

GRACIE saunters back up and gives him a full-on smile this time.

GRACIE It's on me. SY BERG Hey that's real nice and all but, thanks, but... why? GRACIE Cute. I was the one tending bar here last night. I saw what you did for that guy. Honey, you'll never pay for breakfast when I'm here. She sees the puzzled look, the haunted shadow crossing his face and it dawns on her. She steps in closer. GRACIE (Looking deep in his face) You don't remember! That's OK, you were pretty lit. You just about saved that guy's life. SY BERG Guy? SY BERG tries to stand up but too quickly, hangover catches up, he weaves. GRACIE reaches out and steadies him, then lowers him down in his seat and sits down opposite him, pours more coffee, noticing the glove on his right hand. GRACIE Whoa! I wouldn’t get up too fast if I was you. By the way, what’s your name? SY BERG Sy. Sy Berg. GRACIE Is that jewish or something? Oh. That sounds bad. I don’t mean it any way. It’s just, you know, oh what the hell. My name’s GRACIE. SY BERG It’s okay, Gracie. (During this next monologue we see flashbacks, quick cuts of what happened the previous night.) GRACIE Me and my big mouth, always getting me in trouble! Anyway, here it is from the start. You come in. You have a few drinks, kind of keeping to yourself. Then this guy comes in a while later, little lost. Maybe not so much lost as, as (searching for the right word), as more … odd. Like he wasn’t from around here but you couldn’t tell where he was from. He ordered a drink and tried to make conversation with some of the locals. They were a little drunker than usual and started in on him. Making fun of him, trying to get him riled. He just laughed along with them like it was nothing, but it was like he was trying to be them, or, not be them, but act like them. It was really strange to watch. So they all got pissed off and tried to take him outside. You got up like Godzilla, like the movies, and tried to talk them out of it, 'Give the guy a break, we're all on this place together, we’re alike' that kind of stuff. SY BERG My 'Star Trek' speech... 'Why can't we all just get along...' GRACIE Yeah, it was sure pretty the way you said it, you got all of us going, except them--it just made them madder. SY BERG I bet. So what'd I do next? GRACIE You really don't remember this? SY BERG Would I be asking if I knew? GRACIE No, I've seen what kind of guy you are. So you got up and got between them and the guy. Pushing and poking and smartassing them. They picked you up and took you outside. I didn't see what they did, but the guy went outside after you. None of you came back, including the locals. My boss got pissed at me because I lost some paying customers, asshole. What the hell happened out there, anyway? SY BERG I wish I knew. 4 EXT. DAY, PARKING LOT 4 SY BERG walks outside the bar. He shields his eyes as he looks to the sky. 5 EXT. NIGHT, DESERT 5 ALIEN, looking like an average guy, button-up plaid shirt, khaki pants, standing in the desert. In front of him is a shimmering figure, a holographic image, which casts a glow around them. During this monologue there are quick cuts of flashbacks to the bar fight from the ALIEN’s POV. ALIEN ...so I am there, and I wander into this place of loud noise and humans. The humans accepted me as one of their own, but some were put off, or curious, or just human, and wished to combat me. I didn't know what to do; nothing like that was in my briefing. Then this one human, a higher life form than the others apparently, settled the matter for me. He took my place. They tried to combat him, but he was too powerful for them. First he tried logic, then reason, then when his words weren't understood, they attacked him. I couldn't, as they would say here, 'let it go.' He tried his best but their strength was in numbers. One tried to sever one of his appendages with a metal implement. I quickly rendered them back into their component molecules. The appendage couldn't be saved; I used it as a model for a replacement. I understand what I did went beyond the boundaries of our mandate and my orders, but I acted in the true faith and spirit of our mission.

End of survey report 117.

The ALIEN touches an object on his wrist and the holographic image disappears. 6 EXT. DAY, DESERT HIGHWAY Shot of SY BERG driving along the highway. As he speaks there are quick cuts of flashbacks of the bar fight from his POV. SY BERG V.O. Sometimes, in a brief twilight time before sleep, I remember some of what happened to me, the memories come disjointed, rough, drunk. The metal arm shifts the gears. SY BERG V.O. I have no clue as to why I smile as I think of it, but smile I do. And somehow it's all connected to something my grandfather taught me...do the right thing, son, and sometimes the right thing will be done to you. He smiles a twitchy smile.

END

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