Sphere Script
EXT. STREET IN GEORGETOWN -- MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT
Fog hangs above the street, amongst the streetlamps. Apartment
buildings line the curb, it is very quiet. In one building, six floors
up, a bedroom light is on. WE SEE the silhouette of Norman’s WIFE
looking out the window.
WIFE (O.S.)
What kind of a crash was it?
NORMAN (O.S.)
You seen my suitcase?
WIFE (O.S.)
There’s nothing on the news about a
crash. Did he say what airline?
NORMAN (O.S.)
He didn’t say much at all. Honey --
WIFE (O.S.)
In the closet. I don’t understand,
Norman -- why would they call you?
NORMAN (O.S.)
Don’t be so supportive, honey.
WIFE (O.S.)
Well, I can’t imagine five years of
unemployment --
NORMAN (O.S.)
Four. Four years --
WIFE (O.S.)
Four years of unemployment would
look too good on a resume.
NORMAN (O.S.)
Keep watching the news. Are you
watching the news?
WIFE (O.S.)
How are you getting to the airport?
You need money for the bus?
A tinted-window black SEDAN travels down the street, pulls up in front
of the apartment building. A U.S. NAVY decal is on the door.
WIFE (O.S.)
There’s a U.S. Navy car outside,
Norman.
NORMAN (O.S.)
What?
WIFE (O.S.)
Was it a military crash?
NORMAN (O.S.)
I don’t know.
WIFE (O.S.)
They never used to send a Navy car.
CUT TO:
THE LOUD, HARD CHOPPING OF A HELICOPTER PROPELLER
EXT. PACIFIC OCEAN -- DAY
Blinding sunlight, as the helicopter WHIPS by, speeding above the
Pacific Ocean.
INT. HELICOPTER -- DAY
Norman, 53, disheveled, unshaven, sits in the back. He studies a
pamphlet in his hand: "AIRCRASH SURVIVAL: HOW TO COPE". The PILOT, in
the cockpit, turns to him.
PILOT
What kinda work you in, Dr. Johnson?
Norman quickly stuffs the pamphlet into his dufflebag.
NORMAN
I’m in psychology. Was. Still am
really, just been a while.
(beat)
I treat aircrash survivors.
PILOT
Oh, so you’re that Dr. Johnson.
NORMAN
You’ve heard of me?
PILOT
Well, everybody’s been talking about
that report you wrote.
NORMAN
What report?
PILOT
Huh?
NORMAN
What report?
PILOT
You mean you don’t know?
NORMAN
Know what?
The pilot glances back at him again.
PILOT
Must be another Johnson then. Been
flying so many scientists out here
-- can’t keep everyone straight.
NORMAN
Who’s everyone?
PILOT
Physicists, mathematicians,
geologists, you name it.
NORMAN
Geologists? At a plane crash?
PILOT
Strange, isn’t it? In the middle of
the ocean no less.
NORMAN
What the hell would a geologist be
doing at a plane crash?
Norman looks out the window and sees a group of ships circling in the
water.
EXT. SHIP DECK -- DAY
The helicopter descends down onto the helipad, wind gusting about. A
young, female OFFICER -- holding her hat to her head -- rushes to
greet Norman, as he climbs out of the helicopter.
She looks down crudely at his shotty, nylon dufflebag.
OFFICER
Any other bags, Dr. Johnson?
NORMAN
Just that. Careful, it’s heavy.
She lugs it over her shoulder, no problem.
OFFICER
No other equipment? Scientific
instruments?
NORMAN
No, they didn’t say --
OFFICER
This way, sir.
Norman follows the officer away from the helipad.
INT. SHIP
She leads Norman down a flight of stairs.
OFFICER
Captain Barnes wants to see you
right away, sir.
NORMAN
Captain who?
OFFICER
Barnes. He’s very eager to meet you.
Been calling us every half hour to
see if you’re arrived.
NORMAN
Really?
As they march down a hallway, Norman looks down at his wrinkled suit,
tries to smooth it out.
OFFICER
By the way sir, I’ve read your
report. I think it’s brilliant.
NORMAN
What report?
OFFICER
You mean they haven’t told you yet?
NORMAN
Told me what?
She staightens up, like she might have said too much.
OFFICER
This way, sir.
INT. BARNES’ OFFICE
CAPTAIN HAROLD BARNES, 60s, immaculate, proud of who he is, talks on
the phone.
BARNES
How’s he look?... Well, we can’t all
be officers, can we?
(laughs)
They tell me he’s brilliant.
EXT. BARNES’ OFFICE
Norman stands in front of the door. The doorplate reads: PROJECT
COMMANDER -- CAPTAIN HAROLD BARNES. Norman straightens his big-knotted
tie. Deep breath.
INT. BARNES’ OFFICE
As the door opens, Barnes is putting down the phone, rises from his
desk, as Norman steps inside.
BARNES
Dr. Norman Johnson. Welcome aboard.
They shake hands.
NORMAN
Thank you, Colonel.
BARNES
Captain.
NORMAN
Captain. Right, forgive me.
Barnes looks at Norman, sizing him up. An akward silence.
NORMAN
Well, thanks for the opportuninty
here -- my wife appreciates it.
BARNES
Don’t thank me, Dr. Johnson. You
weren’t my choice. The Pentagon made
me take you.
NORMAN
(smiling)
The Pentagon? I didn’t know I had
friends in Washington.
Norman tries to laugh as Barnes ushers him to the door...
BARNES
Come with me. The team’s already
waiting.
NORMAN
What team?
INT. HALLWAY
Barnes leads Norman down the corridor, lined with OFFICERS and GUARDS.
BARNES
What have you been told so far?
NORMAN
The usual. Plane crash. Survivers
unknown. Routine stuff really.
BARNES
Anything else?
NORMAN
Nothing else.
A GUARD unlocks a large, steel door.
GUARD
Captain Barnes. Dr. Johnson.
NORMAN
Hello.
Norman looks at the guard as they proceed through the doorway,
wondering how the guard knows his name.
BARNES
You talk to any reporters? Any
press?
NORMAN
Press? No, I haven’t.
The steel door shuts loudly behind them.
BARNES
Good. Security’s been our biggest
worry. Now that you’re here we can
shut this thing down tight.
NORMAN
From what? What’s with all the
security?
BARNES
Well, we don’t have all the facts
yet.
Another GUARD opens up another large steel door...
INT. TECH ROOM
Barnes leads Norman through the room, crammed with video monitors,
screens, and grids. Officers talk into radios. Technicians work on
computers.
BARNES
We’re moving fast considering the
storm.
NORMAN
Storm? What storm?
BARNES
A cyclone’s on it’s way in. I
thought they would have told you on
the phone.
NORMAN
They didn’t tell me anything.
Norman tries to keep pace...
BARNES
We’ve had divers working around the
clock. Take a look at this...
ANGLE ON a large VIDEO SCREEN -- shows a diver walking on the ocean
floor, holding a bright artificial flashlight.
NORMAN
How deep is he?
BARNES
A thousand feet.
NORMAN
A thousand? An airplane crashes into
a thousand feet of water -- I don’t
want to sound pessimistic here, but
I assume there are no survivors.
BARNES
Survivors? No, I wouldn’t think so.
NORMAN
Then why am I here?
BARNES
What?
NORMAN
What do you need me for?
ON THE VIDEO SCREEN -- the diver shines his light on a large, metallic
OBJECT.
BARNES
What crashed wasn’t an airplane, Dr.
Johnson. It’s a bit larger than
that.
Barnes walks toward a TECHNICIAN, sitting at a keyboard.
BARNES
(to technician)
Bring up the grid, would you?
ANGLE ON THE MONITOR as an IMAGE OF THE CRAFT begins to form.
NORMAN
What is it? A military spacecraft?
Like a shuttle or satellite?
BARNES
Something like that.
(beat)
That doesn’t surprise you?
NORMAN
Not really, no. Something of the
military crashes in the ocean -- it
explains why there was nothing on
the news, why you’ve kept everything
a secret... When did it crash?
BARNES
As best we can estimate, it crashed
four hundred years ago.
A beat.
NORMAN
Four hundred? You’re kidding, right?
ANGLE ON THE MONITOR -- showing a grid depicting an image of the craft
and a small layer of ROCK above it.
BARNES
See this? Coral. Geologists measured
the coral growth on top of the craft
to be over five meters thick.
NORMAN
Geologists?
BARNES
Coral grows at a rate of two and a
half centimeters a year --
NORMAN
-- Wait a second --
BARNES
-- dating the crash at least that
old.
NORMAN
Hold on --
BARNES
Maybe older --
NORMAN
-- there’s got to be some mistake
here -- a four hundred year old
military spacecraft? There’s no such
thing... our space program isn’t even
forty years old.
BARNES
Extraordinary, isn’t it?
NORMAN
It’s impossible.
BARNES
I’m afraid it is Dr. Johnson...
because it’s sitting on the bottom
of our ocean floor.
INT. STAIRWELL
Barnes and Norman shuffle down the stairs.
BARNES
Off the record, I don’t mind telling
you, this thing scares the shit out
of me.
NORMAN
It doesn’t make any sense.
BARNES
We think it might. That’s why we
brought you here. We’ve assembled
your team -- they’re waiting for us
now.
NORMAN
What team?
BARNES
The one you recommended. In the ULF
report you wrote for the Bush
administration.
NORMAN
ULF report? Nobody’s mentioned that
in years. You mean someone actually
read it?
As they head down a hallway, Barnes pulls the ULF REPORT out from
under his arm, hands it to Norman.
Norman looks at it, almost embarrassed to be holding it.
BARNES
Your report’s become our bible down
here, Dr. Johnson. We’ve been
carrying out each of your
recommendations -- one by one -- to
the smallest detail.
NORMAN
But sir, I don’t understand. This
report -- these recommendations...
they’re for an encounter with extra-
terrestrial life.
INT. BRIEFING ROOM
ON A VIDEO SCREEN -- sonar video of the spacecraft.
BETH (O.S.)
How big is this spacecraft?
BARNES (O.S.)
Of what we’re able to measure,
roughly twenty-six hundred feet.
TED (O.S.)
A half a mile long?
BARNES
The wing dimension alone is larger
that any aircraft we’ve seen.
The team members sit around the conference table:
TED FIELDING, 41, geologist, boyish and happy to be here. BETH
HALPERIN, 36, biochemist, mother of three who’s never worn an apron.
ARTHUR LEVINE, 54, marine biologist, pudgy and quiet. HARRY ADAMS, 32,
mathamatician, African-American, wire-glasses, no bullshit.
HARRY
How much damage?
BARNES
To the craft? None. Not a scratch.
HARRY
Right. So you’re saying it survived
a high speed impact with water
without a scratch?
BARNES
I’m not saying anything, Harry, I’m
just stating the facts.
(continuing)
The outer metal is made of a
titanium alloy, built into an epoxy-
resin honeycomb. The necessary
technology to bond this type of
metal has never been invented.
TED
Never invented?
ON NORMAN, watching the team...
BETH
In basic English, what does all this
mean?
BARNES
Basic English? There’s no way this
spacecraft was constructed on our
planet.
A LOUD MECHANICAL WHIRR
INT. TESTING ROOM -- LATER
A large, X-Ray APPARATUS moves to the side, revealing Norman’s FACE.
ON BETH -- standing next to him.
BETH
Five years. No phone calls. What am
I -- a leper?
Norman sits up...
NORMAN
Beth, look, can I trust you with a
little secret?
BETH
I love secrets.
NORMAN
That ULF report everybody’s patting
me on the back about?
BETH
I’ve read it twice, Norman. It’s
brilliant.
NORMAN
It’s bullshit. The report’s a joke.
BETH
(beat)
That’s quite a secret.
NORMAN
I spent a week reading Sagan and
watching re-runs of the Twilight
Zone. Seriously. I was just trying
to pay the mortgage on my house -- I
had no idea --
ANGLE ON TWO NAVY CORPSMEN, standing behind glass in the next room,
monitoring Beth and Norman.
BETH
Do yourself a favor, Norman. Are you
listening? Don’t tell anyone what
you just told me.
NORMAN
C’mon, Beth -- that report’s like
the blind leading the blind.
BETH
Because when we get down there --
NORMAN
Wait -- down where?
BETH
To the spacecraft. To investigate.
NORMAN
Underwater?
BETH
What do you expect? For them to
bring it up here?
NORMAN
We can’t go down there. We’re not
prepared. That deep? That takes
years of training, Beth. We’re just
scientists. Lab scietists. We wear
ties and lab coats to work -- not
oxygen tanks.
BETH
Well, you must have realized the
chances an encounter like this would
happen here. In the ocean.
(off his look)
70 percent of the earth’s surface is
water, Norman. That’s first grade
geography.
NORMAN
It never occurred to me.
BETH
Well, let’s pray that’s the only
mistake you made. Have you said
anything to Barnes about this?
NORMAN
The timing has never seemed quite
right.
BETH
Just keep your mouth shut, alright?
This could mean everything to our
careers, you know that? Don’t
jeopardize this.
NORMAN
(nervous laughter)
What -- are you threatening me?
EXT. SHIP -- LATE AT NIGHT
THE SKY -- clouds looming on the horizon.
ANGLE ON ARTHUR LEVINE, leaning against the railing, looking out at
the water.
ON NORMAN, approaching him. Arthur never looks at Norman, he just
stares out at the water.
ARTHUR
I don’t know you, but I’ll be honest
with you. I don’t like this. I don’t
like any of this. Especially, the
water.
NORMAN
Seasick? A marine biologist?
ARTHUR
I don’t belong here. None of us
belong here. Look at that.
ANGLE ON THE WATER, an ocean of seemingly endless, choppy waves.
NORMAN
Makes you feel pretty small, doesn’t
it?
ARTHUR
It scares the shit out of me.
CUT TO:
CLOSE ON NORMAN, lying on a cot. It is dark. His eyes are open. He
stares at the ceiling.
CUT TO:
INT. DESCENT PLATFORM
A porthole hatch to the DESCENT SUB unlatches loudly. A SUB-OFFICER
help Norman lower himself through the hatch.
INT. DESCENT SUB
Norman steps down the ladder into the sub compartment. Seated in a
circle area: Ted, Beth, Harry, and Arthur. Ahead of them, Captain
Barnes sits with the pilot in the sub’s cockpit, separated by a wall
of plexiglass.
Norman takes a seat between Beth and Ted.
BARNES (O.S.)
(through the intercom)
Our descent will take 13 minutes.
Descending at a speed of 80 feet per
minute.
Across from Norman, Harry is WHISPERING something quietly into
Arthur’s ear.
BARNES (O.S.)
Pressure adjustments will cause the
sub to lurch at times, but don’t be
alarmed. It’s perfectly normal...
Arthur’s face drips with sweat, as Harry continues to whisper into his
ear.
BARNES (O.S.)
The sub’s interior atmosphere will
experience moisture as we descend,
and the temperature will drop
rapidly. Just relax and remain
seated during the descent.
Norman watches Arthur, dripping with sweat.
BARNES (O.S.)
We have clearing from the base.
Red interior lights flicker on in the compartment, and WE HEAR the sub
make a HISSING sound. The sub lurches, and begins to lower in the
water.
NORMAN
Arthur?
Harry has gotten to Arthur. Arthur is on the verge of panic.
NORMAN
Arthur? You alright?
ARTHUR
Open the hatch door, please.
Harry continues to whisper in his ear.
ARTHUR
Captain, open the hatch door, please
... the hatch door, Captain. Open it,
please.
BARNES (O.S.)
Calm down, Dr. Levine.
ARTHUR
Let me out, Captain. Open the door!
BARNES (O.S.)
Please, Dr. Levine.
Arthur leaps violently out of his seat, scrambles to the plexiglass
wall.
BARNES
(through the plexiglass)
Sit down, Dr. Levine! You’re in a
military operation now --
Arthur bangs on the plexiglass wall with his fists.
BARNES
... Your civil rights have been
overridden!
ARTHUR
Open it, Captain!
BARNES
Dr. Levine, please! Return to your
seat!
Arthur VOMITS, violently, heaving, splattering the plexiglass wall.
ARTHUR
Open the fucking door!
The sub LURCHES again, coming to a stop. The compartment is totally
silent, as they begin ascending to the surface.
ON HARRY smiling a sly, evil grin directed right at Norman.
The sub lurches again, and WE HEAR clanking metal. The hatch door
opens.
And Arthur, wiping the vomit from his mouth, climbs up the ladder and
out the hatch door.
BARNES (O.S.)
Anybody else?
Silence.
The hatch door LOCKS, loudly. The sub lurches, and begins descending.
TED
Pussy.
BETH
What’s that -- mistake number two,
Norman?
NORMAN
He wasn’t feeling well.
TED
He’s a pussy.
Harry is still staring at Norman...
HARRY
How are you feeling, Norman?
NORMAN
What?
HARRY
You holding up alright?
NORMAN
Fine. I’m fine.
HARRY
Don’t be defensive.
NORMAN
I’m not being defensive.
HARRY
You sound defensive.
NORMAN
I’m fine.
TED
(to Harry)
What’d you say to him?
HARRY
To who? Arthur? Nothing. Nothing
that Norman doesn’t already know.
TED
What does Norman already know?
HARRY
Norman thinks we shouldn’t be going
down. Thinks it’s a mistake.
Norman looks over at Beth.
HARRY
She told me what you said, Norman.
TED
What is it, Harry?
HARRY
Just one of Norman’s many secrets.
ON NORMAN, saying nothing.
EXT. OCEAN
WE SEE the sub descending into darker waters.
EXT. DH-8 HABITAT -- ARRIVING DOCK
The SUB descends into the AIRLOCK, metal clanks against metal. Around
it, the DH-8: interwoven cylinders lit up with lights.
INT. AIRLOCK -- PRESSURIZING ROOM
CLOSE ON THE HATCH DOOR closing tightly, locking.
OFFICER (O.S.)
One moment for pressurizing.
A SOFT WHIRR.
ANGLE ON -- Barnes and the four remaining team members standing in the
small, claustrophobic pressurizing room. Like sardines. Nobody says
anything. A long beat.
THE DOOR
in front of them, opens. TEENY FLETCHER, 30s, a big-boned female
officer, stands before them. She wears a black plastic PAD, a
"talker", around her neck.
She hands each member their own "talker". Norman takes his.
INT. DH-8 HALLWAY
Fletcher leads Barnes and the team members down the hallway. Each of
them wears the "talkers" around their necks.
BARNES
They pressurize us with helium.
NORMAN
What’s wrong with oxygen?
BARNES
It’s a corrosive gas. On earth, it
makes a half-eaten apple turn brown
and puts the ugly, iron rust on an
Oldsmobile. At a pressure this low,
oxygen becomes toxic. Breathe it
down here, and it’ll do to your dick
what it does to the Oldsmobile.
TED
Important safety tip. Thanks
Captain.
Fletcher listens through her radio earpiece, turns to Barnes...
FLETCHER
Captain, the divers have the airlock
mounted at the door. The robot is
now in position to enter the
spacecraft.
TED
Robot? What robot?
INT. VIDEO FEED ROOM
CLOSE ON A MONITOR -- showing the robot in front of the curved gray
metal of the spacecraft.
BARNES
Edmunds, bring up the robot’s camera
feed.
JANE EDMUNDS, 32, the unit archivist, works the control panel. Another
MONITOR clicks on -- showing the robot’s POV of the door.
TED
Captain, you know, I really
appreciate you hauling us a thousand
feet below sea level so we can watch
this historical event on television.
BARNES
Nobody goes inside, until we know
what’s inside.
ON THE MONITOR -- THE ROBOT CAMERA scans the spacecraft hull, stops on
a rectangular panel mounted to the left of the door.
BARNES
Can you open that panel?
EDMUNDS
Working on it now, sir.
ON THE MONITOR -- a robotic CLAW extends out to the panel. Trying to
pry the panel open.
TED
I’d like it noted in the report that
I think we should be doing this
ourselves. Making a manned entry...
The claw is clumsy, and keeps banging into the metal.
TED
I’d also like it noted --
BARNES
Duly noted, Ted. Edmunds, try using
suction.
ON THE MONITOR -- another robotic arm extends out, with a rubber
sucker. It pushes against the panel, but doesn’t suck.
EDMUNDS
It’s not sucking, sir.
BARNES
Thank you, I can see that. Try
something else.
EDMUNDS
We don’t have anything else to try,
Sir.
BARNES
Well, shit -- find something, do
something... make something up --
TED
What about a crowbar?
Barnes straightens up, looks at Ted...
BARNES
What about a crowbar?
TED
What if we go out there, you know --
wedge a crowbar in the door and pry
the thing open.
HARRY
Pry the thing open? What are we --
neanderthals?
BETH
All that banging and pounding. I
don’t know. We should think about
making a good first impression.
HARRY
For who? The fish?
BETH
For whoever’s in that thing.
BARNES
Or whatever’s in that thing.
ON THE MONITOR -- the spacecraft, sitting there silently, staring back
at them.
BARNES
Norman, what do you think?
Norman, quiet in the corner, perks up...
NORMAN
Me? Well -- I don’t really... I
mean, you could... you know, you
could make a real solid case... a
crowbar?
All eyes on Norman.
NORMAN
I don’t know.
A beat as they all stare at him.
TED
I’m secure enough with that.
INT. CHANGING ROOM
ANGLE ON A LOCKER door opening. Inside is an elaborate JUMPSUIT and
HELMET with the name: "JOHNSON", stenciled above the faceplate.
NORMAN
Are we all -- I mean, is it
necessary for all of us to go... out
there?
The other team members take their suits out of their lockers.
BARNES
Nothing to be nervous about. These
suits are wired and electrically
heated. Each equipped with an alarm
that triggers automatically if life-
support sustems go below optimum.
Norman holds his jumpsuit out and away from him, like it’s something
nuclear.
TED
It’s just like swimming, Norman...
You know how to swim, don’t you?
HARRY
You’re not afraid of the water, are
you, Norman?
They all look over at him.
BETH
(half smiling)
Isn’t there a psychological term for
that, Dr. Johnson?
NORMAN
(under his breath)
Yeah. Drowning.
INT. AIRLOCK ROOM -- (A CYLINDER)
Dressed in jumpsuits and helmets -- Barnes jumps into a POOL of ocean
water, cut out from the floor, leading to the ocean. It looks like a
tiny swimming pool. Ted jumps in next. Beth, Harry, and Norman are
left...
BETH
You’re next, Norman.
NORMAN
(nervous as hell)
No. Go ahead. Really. Ladies first.
BETH
Such a gentlemen when you’re scared
shitless.
She hops in. Norman watches, looks up at Harry, next to him.
HARRY
Go ahead. Ladies first.
NORMAN
No, why don’t --
Harry nudges him forward.
HARRY
C’mon.
NORMAN
Wait a second, I --
Harry pushes him again. Norman catches himself.
NORMAN
Geez, c’mon, alright. Gimme a
minute. Let me get my bearings --
Harry pushes him again.
HARRY
C’mon, Norman.
NORMAN
Look, would you --
And Harry just pushes him in. Norman slips and falls awkwardly... into
the ocean depths.
CUT TO:
BLACK.
Quiet. Only THE SOUND OF NORMAN -- BREATHING.
For a couple beats.
Now... NORMAN’S POV -- from inside his helmet -- a light SHINES from
behind him -- casting his SHADOW onto the murky ocean floor.
Norman’s head turns, and he’s BLINDED by a light -- it’s Harry, the
light SHINING from the top of Harry’s helmet.
WE HEAR Harry’s voice, static, through Norman’s helmet.
HARRY (O.S.)
The switch is on your waist.
ON NORMAN -- his GLOVE -- fumbling at his waist.
HIS HELMET LIGHT -- FLICKERS on.
ON NORMAN -- slowly, beginning to walk on the ocean floor.
HIS FEET -- squashing gently, lightly into the muddy ground.
NORMAN’S POV -- can barely make out the others in front of him, their
helmet lights STROBING the dark water, crossing each other, like
searchlights on a foggy night.
CLOSE ON NORMAN’S FACE -- eyes cold, BREATHING. Couple beats. And
HEARS:
TED (O.S.)
Look at that thing.
Norman’s eyes look up... WE PULL BACK...
LONG, HIGH, WIDE SHOT of the team -- their little helmet lights tiny
and insignificant almost as...
IN FRONT OF THEM -- the SPACECRAFT. Dwarfing them in size, looming
large, majestic, like nothing we’ve ever seen. The enormous tail fin,
in the distance, extends high out of the coral.
In the huge MOUND OF CORAL covering the spacecraft, WE SEE a tunnel --
cut out like a cave -- lined with tiny, dim lightbulbs.
INT. TUNNEL
About 60 feet deep. Narrower than they’d like. Norman descends,
clumsily, awkwardly -- pushing off the bulky, iron handles fastened to
the coral walls.
THE LOUD HISSING OF AIR
INT. SPACECRAFT AIRLOCK
CLOSE ON NORMAN’S FACE as he watches the water recede, down past his
faceplate.
THE LOUD BANGING OF METAL
Ted has wedged a crowbar into the door and BANGS at it with a
sledgehammer.
HARRY
Easy Ted, we’re not mining gold.
TED
Gimme some room here, will you? Back
off. Gimme some space.
They all back away, cramming into the far corner of the airlock as Ted
keeps swinging.
BETH
Looks alot like an airplane door,
doesn’t it?
Ted stops and looks at the door.
TED
Alot like. You know, I noticed it
before, but I didn’t...
HARRY
Shutup, Ted. You didn’t notice shit.
Keep hammering.
NORMAN
You want me to try?
TED
You’re a 53 year old shrink, what
are you gonna do?
BARNES
&n