Free Dreamsongs - Volume II by George R. R. Martin Page A

DANGER HIGH VOLTAGE.
Beyond the fence are the quonset huts and ugly cinder-block buildings of an
abandoned army base.
     
    INT. - DESERT BASE - NIGHT - TRACKING
     
    Trager and Cameron escort Tom down a long
windowless corridor. They pass one section where the wall has been BLOWN OUT;
through a jagged blackened hole we glimpse a long interior room GUTTED by fire,
its ceiling collapsed.
     
    TOM
     
    You have a fire?
     
    TRAGER
     
    Our shooting range.
One of our bright boys decided to test fire your
    girlfriend’s gun.
     
    TOM
     
    She’s not my
girlfriend.
     
    TRAGER
     
    Whatever. In here,
please. There are some things I want you to see.
     
    He opens a door. Tom steps through.
     
    INT. - TRAGER’S OFFICE - NIGHT - TIGHT ON A
WALL SAFE
     
    A high tech, electronic safe with a card
slot and numerical keyboard. Trager’s HAND inserts a plastic security card into
a slot. The keypad LIGHTS. Trager punches in a sequence of numbers. The safe
swings open; Trager begins to remove the contents.
     
    ANGLE DOWN ON DESK
     
    as Trager spreads out Cat’s weapon, her
bracelet, three BLACK CYLINDERS. A hundred-odd BLACK PLASTIC NEEDLES are
scattered across the desktop.
     
    ANGLE UP
     
    Trager and Tom have been joined by MATSUMOTO,
a government scientist, Asian, forty, wearing a lab coat.
     
    TOM
     
    She blew up a semi
with that?
     
    TRAGER
     
    Correct. Go on,
pick it up.
     
    Tom lifts the weapon, sights down the
barrel.
     
    TOM
     
    I used to have a
water pistol that looked like this.
     
    TRAGER
     
    Close. Try a beebee
gun.
     
    MATSUMOTO
     
    An air gun, more
precisely. Quite sophisticated. I doubt we could duplicate
    it. It uses a
high-velocity jet of pressurized air to spit out...
     
    Matsumoto lifts a thin black needle with
tweezers.
     
    MATSUMOTO
     
    .. . these.
     
    TOM
     
    Needles?
     
    MATSUMOTO
     
    Needles with the
explosive power of a bazooka round.
     
    TRAGER
     
    This beebee gun has
teeth.
     
    Matsumoto picks up a cylinder: black, long
as a finger.
     
    MATSUMOTO
     
    The police found
three of these magazines in her pockets. Each one holds
    one hundred
forty-four needles, and ...
     
    He pulls a cap off the back. Inside,
built-in, is a POWER CELL; it pulses with RED LIGHT.
     
    MATSUMOTO
     
    (continuous)
     
    ... its own power
cell. So you recharge every time you reload. If Detroit had
    battery technology
this good, we’d all be driving electric cars.
     
    Tom is still hefting the weapon.
     
    TOM
     
    Awkward grip. I can
barely reach the trigger.
     
    TRAGER
     
    The girl had to use
both hands to fire it.
     
    TOM
     
    Bad design ...
     
    MATSUMOTO
     
    Unless the gun was
designed for someone with bigger hands.
     
    TOM
     
    You’d need fingers
like a squid.
     
    Tom puts down the weapon, picks up the
bracelet.
     
    TOM
     
    She was wearing
this when the paramedics brought her in.
     
    TRAGER
     
    It seems to be very
important to her.
     
    TOM
     
    What is it?
     
    MATSUMOTO
     
    The metal is a
superconductive alloy. I’ve never seen anything like it. Inside
    it’s solid
microcircuitry. Very odd microcircuitry. Parts of it seem almost
    organic.
     
    TOM
     
    But what does it
do?
     
    MATSUMOTO
     
    At a guess ... it
detects certain unusual subatomic particles.
     
    Tom looks blankly over at Trager. He’s
lost.
     
    TOM
     
    I don’t understand
any of this.
     
    TRAGER
     
    Neither do we. That’s
why you’re here. We need answers, Doctor. And the
    girl won’t talk to
anyone but you.
     
    OFF Tom’s silent, reluctant agreement, we
     
    CUT TO
     
    INT. - CORRIDOR - NIGHT
     
    A uniformed MATRON is seated outside a
locked door, beside a window of oneway glass. Cat is visible inside, curled up on
a bed, listless, in prison grays. The matron fans herself with a small HAND
FAN, its accordion folds alternately red and black.
     
    TRAGER
     
    How’s our guest?
     
    MATRON
     
    Quiet. She just
lays there, staring off. I don’t blame her, in this heat.
     
    TRAGER
     
    Let him in.
     
    He gives