MaxwellDB It's me. I am the product.

A Scene from the Future Conservative Dystopia

What do you get when NASA's "outrageous" outreach to Muslims and Newt Gingrich's vision for a privatized everything shack up together? This scene, which I think is from a movie with a working title like Expensive Steven Baldwin Sci-Fi Project.

 EXT. SPACE NEAR AN ASTEROID FIELD

               A small, sleek spaceship, the PSV Friedrich, floats in front
               of the edge of an asteroid field.

               INT. FRIEDRICH CAPTAIN'S QUARTERS - 'DAY'

               The prosperity of the era of privatized space exploration
               means that all of the ship's internal surfaces are covered in
               iPods. Everything is iPods. 

               The face of a pudgy, bearded man, LOUIS BAILLY, 58, is spread
               across several of those iPods. Seated at his desk is the
               ship's attractive, self-assured captain, RICK LIVINGSTON, 37,
               currently engaged in an argument with Louis.

                                   RICK
                             (slams his fist on his
                              desk)
                         Sir, that's madness! How can we,
                         just one ship, maintain control
                         over an entire sector?

                                   LOUIS
                         Next quarter's looking to be a
                         rough one, Richard. We need to
                         prepare for that, or else the
                         shareholders will have my head.

                                   RICK
                             (slams fist on desk again)
                         To hell with the shareholders!

                                   LOUIS
                         Pardon me, Mister '6 days from his
                         performance review?'

                                   RICK
                             (softly pats desk with his
                              fist)
                         I'm sorry; my emotions got the best
                         of me, sir.

                                   LOUIS
                         Don't let it happen again. You know
                         your assignment, Richard. Don't let
                         us down. Corporate out.

               Louis' image fades to black. Rick sinks into his chair.

                                   RICK
                             (rubs his desk-slammin'
                              hand)
                         The things I do for love.

               A speaker on the captain's desk CHIRPS. A CREW MEMBER clears
               his throat before speaking from it.

                                   CREW MEMBER (V.O.)
                         Captain requested on the bridge.
                         We're detecting an unidentified
                         object 400 kilometers off the port
                         bow, sir. They're level and coming
                         right for us.

                                   RICK
                             (rises from his chair)
                         On my way.

               INT. FRIEDRICH CORRIDOR - DAY

               Rick strides his way down the corridor toward the ship's
               bridge. A hanging light tube flickers as he walks.

               INT. FRIEDRICH BRIDGE - DAY

               The ship's bridge, circular and about 30 feet across, is
               bustling with activity and filled with chatter. As Rick
               enters the room and walks to his captain's chair (situated in
               the center), the ship's tall, imposing first officer,
               HERMAN WOO, 30, nods to him.

                                   HERMAN
                         Captain on deck.

               The chatter dies down. A few crew members wave to Rick. Most
               keep their heads down in their consoles or else look away.

                                   RICK
                             (sits in chair)
                         Status report, Herman.

                                   HERMAN
                         It's definitely a ship, sir.
                         Markings indicate it belongs to the
                         United Arab Extrasolar Caliphate.
                         Engine signature means that it's a
                         NASA-Caliphate legacy-type craft. 

                                   RICK
                         My God. How could we ever have been
                         so foolish to work with them?

                                   HERMAN
                         Different times, sir.

                                   RICK
                         Damn right, different times. 

                                   HERMAN
                         You don't have to tell me twice.
                         Anyway, it hasn't yet opened fire
                         on us; it should be within weapons
                         range in ten minutes. In the
                         meanwhile, we've received this
                         audio message. 

               Herman mashes a button on his console. Speakers around the
               bridge HISS to life.

                                   ARABIC SPEAKER (V.O.)
                         Salam. Ada'tu tareeqi. Hal
                         beemkanek mosa'adati?

                                   RICK
                             (leans forward, face
                              screwed)
                         But what does it mean?

                                   HERMAN
                         We can only assume that they're
                         attempting to convert us, sir. I've
                         forwarded the message to HQ for
                         processing, but we're pretty far
                         back on the queue. 

                                   RICK
                             (leans back, strokes chin)
                         Then we'll have to wing it. Put
                         them on the viewer, helm.

               The HELMSMAN mashes his console; it BEEPS angrily. He turns
               to the captain.

                                   HELMSAN
                         Sir, our viewer software's license
                         has expired. Shall I renew it?

                                   RICK
                         Make it so. 

                                   HELMSMAN
                         I can also upgrade to the latest
                         version for only 15 credits more.

                                   RICK
                             (squints hard)
                         Accept the charges.

                                   HELMSMAN
                         Aye, sir. 

               The viewer, a huge screen mounted on the wall in front of the
               captain's chair, comes to life with a gentle CHIME. The UAEC
               ship is tiny for deep space travel, about the size and shape
               of a school bus. It has stubby wings and is painted a matte
               gray. IT IS VERY IMPORTANT THAT IT MAKES A SOUND LIKE A
               BUMBLEBEE WHILE SHOWN ON THE VIEWER. DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?

                                   RICK
                         Tactical, what's your assessment?

               The TACTICAL OFFICER busily taps away at his console. 

                                   TACTICAL OFFICER
                         Sensors show no weapons, sir.
                         Visual inspection also turns up
                         nothing remarkable. I think they're
                         just a civili-

               Herman snorts.

                                   HERMAN
                             (interjecting)
                         Unarmed? More like preparing to
                         launch a surprise attack.

               Herman turns to the captain. The tactical officer stares at
               the floor.

                                   HERMAN (CONT'D)
                         Captain, I recommend we take
                         immediate evasive maneuvers, deploy
                         countermeasures, and fire a class 4
                         torpedo ASAP. 

                                   RICK
                             (pats Herman on the back)
                         Agreed-- good man. We can't take
                         the chance. I don't know about
                         anyone else on this bridge, but I'm
                         not out here risking my life for
                         just base pay.

               Rick stands, then smooths out his jumpsuit.

                                   RICK (CONT'D)
                         Helm, emergency reverse. Tactical,
                         get me a firing vector on that
                         ship. Accounting, I need an
                         estimate of the value of this
                         ship's destroyed cargo tonnage,
                         yesterday. Comms, begin drafting a
                         press release; make it exciting,
                         but not flamboyant.

               The bridge crew responds with a lethargic chorus of "aye's."
               As the ship reverses, a deafening metallic GROAN is heard; a
               tremor shakes the room. Rick grabs onto a railing.

                                   RICK (CONT'D)
                         What was that?

                                   HERMAN
                             (rubs his hand frantically
                              over his console)
                         Engineering is reporting that grav
                         stabilizer 6 is down. It should
                         have no impact on short-term
                         performance.

                                   RICK
                         What's the estimate?

                                   HERMAN
                         Gary says that he can have a guy
                         down there tomorrow. We need to put
                         50 credits in escrow to lock him in
                         now, though.

                                   RICK
                         Accept charges.

                                   HERMAN
                         Aye, sir.

               Herman goes to work at his console.

                                   TACTICAL OFFICER
                         Sir, I have an angle on them.
                         Torpedo is ready; estimated time
                         from launch to impact is 25
                         seconds. 

                                   RICK
                             (steps forward)
                         Tactical, let's strike a blow for
                         mining rights in the Forbidden
                         Zone...
                             (points to the ship on
                              screen)
                         Fire.

               EXT. SPACE NEAR AN ASTEROID FIELD

               From a small hole in the bow of the Friedrich, a long torpedo
               slides. At first it moves slowly and then, as it gains some
               distance from the ship, it jets forward, a fiery trail left
               in its wake.

               INT. FRIEDRICH BRIDGE - DAY

                                   TACTICAL OFFICER
                         Putting torpedo-cam on the main
                         viewer, sir.

               The viewer switches from a shot of the doomed UAEC vessel to
               a first-person perspective from the torpedo. The UAEC vessel
               grows larger and larger as the torpedo streaks toward it.

               An insistent CHIME rings throughout the bridge.

                                   RICK
                         Sounds like they have something to
                         say. Put them through.

               Screams (men, women, and children) can be heard in the
               background of the audio channel.

                                   ARABIC SPEAKER (V.O.)
                         La afham! La! 

                                   RICK
                         You can't curse us with the wrong god.
                         You'll have to try a whole lot harder than
                         this if you're going to claim
                         copper in this sector.
                             (closes the channel with
                              his console)
                         Time to impact, tactical?

                                   TACTICAL OFFICER
                         6 seconds, sir.

               The ship on the screen is so large now as to totally fill the
               viewer. The torpedo gets painfully close-- the crew's heads
               all snap reflexively back, as if to avoid it-- and then the
               screen goes black. IMPACT CONFIRMED. NICE JOB! blinks in red,
               bold letters across the viewer.

               Rick pumps his fist, then high-fives Herman. 

                                   RICK
                         And really, nice job, everyone.
                         Herman, can you handle all of the
                         after-action reports?

                                   HERMAN
                         Of course.

                                   RICK
                         Thanks. The bonus should be pretty
                         nice-- one torpedo, no casualties
                         on our end.
                             (pauses, looks off into
                              distance)
                         Comms, contact my wife. Tell her
                         that our health insurance should be
                         back in a few minutes, and that it would be a
                         good time to induce labor.

               The COMMUNICATIONS OFFICER smiles at the captain.

                                   COMMUNICATIONS OFFICER.
                         Aye, sir. Congratulations!

                                   RICK
                             (smiles back)
                         I'll be in my quarters, everyone.
                         Don't slack off!

               Rick exits the bridge.

               END OF SCENE

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