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   Gattaca, early draft, by Andrew M Niccol


   









                            U N T I T L E D










                                                          A Screen Play 
                                                    by Andrew M. Niccol





     FADE IN

     A white title appears on a black screen.

              "As night-fall does not come at once, neither
              does oppression...It is in such twilight that
              we all must be aware of change in the air
              - however slight - lest we become victims of
              the darkness."
                            Justice William O. Douglas


     The title fades off, replaced by a second title.

              "I not only think that we will tamper with
              Mother Nature, I think Mother wants us to."

                                William Gaylin

     The second title fades off, leaving a dark screen.

     The darkness gradually gives way to a dawning light.

     We are confronted with sight of a barren, empty landscape.  A
     wide expanse of wasteland.

     Suddenly, without warning, an elephant tusk falls from the sky
     and crashes onto the parched ground.  The earth-shuddering
     impact causes the tusk to rebound once in slow motion before
     finally settling to the desert floor in a cloud of dust.

     The first tusk is quickly followed by a second, also dropping
     from the heavens.  It lands near the first.  Another tusk
     smashes to earth several yards away.  Yet another comes crashing
     into the foreground.

     Finally the dust settles upon a graveyard of tusks.

     DISSOLVE TO


     A BARREN, EMPTY LANDSCAPE

     In another region of the wasteland, a forest of tree trunks
     suddenly rains down from the sky.  The trunks thump to the hard
     ground, also rebounding in slow motion.  Cleanly sawn,
     branchless, palm-like trunks, they come to rest in the dust only
     to be followed by a second cascade of lumber.

     When the dust finally clears. the felled tree trunks lie in a
     huge, log-jam in the desert.

     DISSOLVE TO


     A BARREN, EMPTY LANDSCAPE

     Next to descend from the sky, a torrent of firewood.  One shower
     after another, crashing to the plain.  Enough chopped lumber to
     fuel a thousand hearths.

     DISSOLVE TO


     A BARREN, EMPTY LANDSCAPE

     Joining the rest of the debris is a deluge of slate - sheets
     of shale from a great unseen quarry in the sky come slamming to
     earth.  Some of the pieces shattering, some rebounding into the
     air until the granite litters acres of landscape as far as the
     eye can see.

     TITLES ARE SPACED APPROPRIATELY THROUGHOUT THE PRECEDING
     SEQUENCE.  THE FINAL TITLE READS:

        T H E   N O T  -  T O O  -  D I S T A N T   F U T U R E

     The camera commences a long, slow pull-back from the pile of
     elephant tusks.  Gradually they are revealed as human
     fingernails magnified many hundreds of times.

     The tree trunks are mere hair follicles.  The firewood,
     whiskers.  The slate, flakes of skin.


     INT.  INCINERATOR.  EARLY MORNING.

     A naked MAN, thirties, seen in profile, is crouched upon a metal
     floor inside a small, brushed stainless steel tank, rubbing his
     skin raw with a wire brush.  JEROME MORROW.

     Having completed his scrupulous ablutions, Jerome arches his
     lean frame through the small, oval door of the metal room
     with practised ease.

     Securing the thick, fireproof windowed door behind himself, he
     turns a switch to release gas into the vacated chamber.  The gas
     instantly ignites in what is now revealed to be a gleaming
     modern stainless-steel custom-made incinerator.

     We refocus on a MAGNIFIED CLOSE UP of his exfoliated flesh in
     the incinerator as it blackens, curls and burns.

     Jerone covers himself with a silk robe and steps into a pair of
     backless slippers.


     INT.  EUGENE'S CONDOMINIUM.  EARLY MORNING.

     JEROME emerges from the incinerator room into a large, luxurious
     loft-style condo containing a bizarre assortment of equipment -
     arranged somewhat like a production line.

     Long, scrupulously clean metal work benches are arranged along
     one entire wall.  Laid out on the benches in neat rows are
     dozens of plastic bags - some filled, some unfilled.  Instruments
     on trays - various types of tweezers, scissors and other less
     familiar utensils.  Round, stainless steel containers filled
     with hairs of differing lengths and other body matter.

     JEROME approaches another man slumped over one of the benches.
     EUGENE.  He clutches an empty vodka bottle.  He is snoring
     lightly - sleeping off the night before.  As JEROME gently
     prises the bottle out of his hand, we are struck by the
     similarity of Eugene's face to Jerome's.

     Jerome pulls Eugene's chair back from the desk with surprising
     ease.  A wheelchair - a modern, ergonomic design.  Jerome wheels
     Eugene to a bedroom and, with some difficulty, hauls the larger
     man onto the bed.  Through his alcoholic fog, Eugene feebly co-
     operates - his paralyzed legs a particular dead weight.

     After covering Eugene with a blanket, Jerome enters a bathroom
     containing a surgically-clean stainless steel basin, sink,
     shower and toilet.

     Beside the toilet stands a large, industrial-style stainless
     steel refrigerator.

     Donning protective gloves, Jerome opens the liquid-nitrogen
     cooled refrigerator.  A cloud of condensed water vapor billows
     out.  Revealed inside the fridge are racks of labelled jars and
     silicon pouches - some containing a yellowish liquid, some a
     deep, red liquid.

     In front of one of the jars is a handwritten shopping list -
     "TRUFFLES, CIGS, VODKA".  Jerome smiles to himself as he
     retrieves the note along with one of the jars.  He checks the
     jar's label.  Satisfied with the date written there, he breaks
     the seal and pours the contents into the clear, silicon pouch of
     an IV-like device lying on the steel bathroom counter.

     He seals the pouch and checks the apparatus by opening the valve
     on its fine tube and squirting a small quantity of the liquid
     into the nearby toilet bowl, as one would test a syringe.  We
     remain on Jerome's face as he reaches between his legs and
     inserts the pouch.

     Reopening the refrigerator, Jerome slides out a tray containing
     neat rows of slim, fingertip-sized plastic sachets filled with a
     deep, red-colored liquid.  He removes his gloves, selects one of
     the sachets and carefully adheres the sachet to the pad at the
     end of his index finger.  He prepares a second sachet for his
     middle finger.  Jerome then applies skin-colored cover-up makeup
     to the sachets, blending them in with the color of his fingers.
     JEROME, still dressed in his robe, climbs a large, spiral
     staircase to the floor above.


     INT.  JEROME'S CONDOMINIUM.  EARLY MORNING.

     He emerges at the top of the staircase into a similarly large,
     loft-stlye condominium.  Through the floor to ceiling window
     that opens onto a balcony we see that dawn is only just starting
     to leak into the night sky.

     In the bedroom JEROME removes a shirt from a drycleaning bag.
     Printed on the bag - "Confidentiality Guaranteed".  He emerges
     from his bedroom, dressed in a smart albeit unconventionally cut
     suit.  He adjusts his tie in the mirror, careful not to disturb
     the sachets attached to his fingertips.


     INT.  INVESTIGATOR'S POOL.  MORNING.

     A lone MAN swims a ferocious lap of freestyle in what appears to
     be a pool of enormous length - yet he never reaches the pool's
     end.  We pull wider to reveal that the man is swimming against
     an artificial current in a pool barely larger than himself.

     Abruptly, the man stops and stands up - the fast-flowing current
     instantly stilled.  We glimpse the face of INVESTIGATOR LUCAS.
     Thirties, he has a youthful yet rigid face.  We have the
     impression that he does not swim for pleasure.


     EXT.  CONDOMINIUM COMPLEX.  MORNING.

     It is still early as JEROME exits the building's underground
     parking garage in an immaculate Studebaker Avanti and proceeds
     down the long straight driveway.  He exchanges a wave with a
     GARDENER trimming a lawn.

     The whir of the car's electric powered engine belies its
     conventional appearance.


     EXT.  GATTACA AEROSPACE CORPORATION.  DAY.

     JEROME's car exits a highway and turns up the sweeping road
     leading to the parking lot of "GATTACA AEROSPACE CORPORATION".
     A sleek, modern, low-rise industrial compound boasting perfectly
     manicured landscaped gardens.


     INT.  GATTACA AEROSPACE CORPORATION.  DAY.

     JEROME strides purposefully up to the entranceway with hundreds
     of other GATTACA EMPLOYEES.  He carries himself with a certain
     arrogance, a cool detachment.  All employees wear similarly
     unconventionally-cut suits, short coiffed hair and robust tans.
     The Gattaca employees are a seemingly equal split of men and
     women and a diverse range of ethnicities.

     They filter through a row of channels supervised by SECURITY
     GUARDS.  Each channel contains a computerized security device,
     featuring a slim groove in which the employee places a finger
     under the watchful eye of a Security Guard.

     Jerome gives a polite nod to a Guard as he places his index
     finger in the groove.  His fingertip is jabbed with the
     finest of needles and a minute blood sample taken.

     The blood specimen confirms Jerome's identity - an ID photograph
     appearing on a computer screen.

     Out of the corner of his eye, Jerome spies a young woman
     entering through the adjacent channel.  She is also sneaking a
     glance in his direction - IRENE.  Catching each other looking,
     they both quickly avert their eyes.

     As Jerome enters the computer facility of Gattaca Aerospace
     Corporation he furtively glances at the pin-prick puncture in
     his fingertip sachet.


     SOMEWHERE IN DEEP SPACE.

     A GATTACA spacecraft skirts an asteroid.  Taking advantage of
     the rock's gravitational pull, the craft slingshots deeper into
     the black void.  Then abruptly the craft and the asteroid freeze
     in mid-space, suddenly reverse direction and proceed forward
     again - the spacecraft taking a slightly adjusted course.

     We pull back to reveal that the journey is merely a highly
     realistic graphic representation on a GATTACA computer screen
     operated by JEROME.

     Appearing simultaneously alongside the computer animation is a
     seemingly never-ending column of computer instructions for this
     celestial navigation - the incomprehensible language of the
     computer programmer.

              140 #x20x08x$$x20x08x$$x20x08x$$x20{
              150 #x00x00x00x00x00x00x00x00x00x00
              160 #xfexfexfexfexfexfexfexfexfexfe

     Jerome is transported - plotting a path through the heavens.
     As his fingers fly across the keys he does not once take his
     eyes from the screen.

     His is one of hundreds of ergonomically designed work stations,
     arranged in ever-widening circles in a huge, curcular, well-
     appointed if antiseptic room.  Each curved desk contains a
     computer terminal consisting of a keyboard and a slim,
     transparent screen behind which is seated a PROGRAMMER,
     designing software for the aerospace agency.  At the center of
     the room is a donut-shaped command console, chairs facing
     outwards, from which operations are monitored.

     Floor to ceiling smoked-glass curved walls offer the only
     concession to nature - a tinted view of a man-made, meticulously
     landscaped garden.

     Jerome tears himself away from his screen and picks up a
     discreet mini-vac.  He vacuums between the keys of his keyboard.
     DIRECTOR JOSEF, 50's, a shorter, official-looking man
     approaches.  His assistant IRENE stands at his shoulder.

                           DIRECTOR JOSEF
              You keep your work station so clean, Jerome.

                           JEROME
              --Next to Godliness, isn't that what they say?

     The Director smiles at the notion and places a computer disc
     on Jerome's desk.

                           DIRECTOR JOSEF
              I reviewed your flight plan.  Not one error
              in a hundred thousand keystrokes.  Phenomenal.
                      (placing a hand on Jerome's shoulder)
              It's right that someone like you is taking us
              to the Belt.
                      (glancing to notification on Jerome's screen)
              You have a substance test.

     The Director briskly departs, Irene in tow.  At a nearby work
     station, a painfully thin programmer, NAPOLEON, perks up at
     the mention of the test.

     Jerome merely shrugs and pretends to reach down and scratch his
     ankle.  However he surreptitiously produced one of Eugene's
     transparent specimen bags from his sock.  An EXTREME CLOSE UP
     reveals the bag's contents - flakes of skin, hair follicles,
     eyelashes, a fingernail.  Cupping the bag in his hand to avoid
     detection, Jerome sprinkles the fraudulent body matter over his
     keyboard, desk surfaces and the floor around his work station.

     He opens his desk drawer and casually scatters the remainder of
     the bag.  Finally he inspects a comb already laced with two
     hair follicles.

     Jerome rises from his work station and makes his way towards the
     testing lab.


     INT.  GATTACA AEROSPACE CORPORATION - TESTING LABORATORY.  DAY.

     White-coated LAMAR, forties, buzzcut, a man's man, checks
     JEROME's eyes with an instrument.  Satisfied with his
     examination, he passes a transparent plastic container to
     JEROME.  Standing directly in front of the technician with his
     back to camera, Jerome opens his fly.  A steady stream of urine
     begins to flow into the container from Jerome's hidden pouch.

                           LAMAR
                      (staring admiringly at the discharge)
              Jerome...never shy.  Pisses on command.
              You've got a beautiful cock.  I ever told
              you that, Jerome?

                           JEROME
                      (deadpan as he continues to urinate)
              Only every time I'm in here.

     Jerome hands the container to Lamara who seals and label it as
     Jerome refastens his trousers.

                           LAMAR
              I see a lot of cocks.  I speak from experience.
              Yours is a beautiful example.  Why didn't my
              folks order a cock like that for me?

     LAMAR pours the urine sample into a high-tech device where it
     is instantly analyzed.  The urine identifies Jerone while also
     registering a negative drug reading.  The computer reads
     "VALID".

                           LAMAR
                      (walking Jerome to the door)
              If everything goes to plan, this could be the
              last time I see you for a while.  One week to
              go.  Please tell me you're the least bit excited.

                           JEROME
              I'll tell you at the end of the week.

     Jerome departs.


     INT.  GATTACA - RESTROOM.  DAY.

     JEROME enters the restroom and glances at the toilet stalls.
     Only three in the bank of twenty is occupied.  He tarries at the
     mirror above the uniform line of basins, unnecessarily
     reknotting his tie.

     A toilet flushes and a COLLEAGUE exits one of the stalls.  He
     and Jerome exchange a nod.  When the man has exited the restroom,
     Jerome enters the man's vacated stall.


     INT.  GATTACA - TOILET STALL.  DAY.

     JEROME immediately feels around the back of the toilet bowl and
     detaches a secreted stainless steel container.

     With surprising swiftness and dexterity, Jerome removes an
     extremely fine contact lens from each eye and drops the pair
     into the toilet bowl.  He inserts two replacement lenses from
     the container and reattaches it in its hiding place.
     Jerome flushes the toilet and exits the stall.  He checks in the
     mirror that his new contact lenses are properly inserted.


     INT.  GATTACA - CORRIDOR.  DAY.

     Walking back along one of the long, glass-walled corridors,
     JEROME becomes aware of a peculiar noise in the complex -
     or to be more precise, a lack of noise.  The incessant tapping
     of computer keys has stilled.

     As Jerome gazes through the glass walled corridor, we see the
     reflection of his face, deep in thought.

                           JEROME (VO)
              The most unremarkable of events.  Jerome
              Morrow, Navigator First class, is only days
              away from a one-year manned mission to 951
              Gaspra in the Outer Asteroid Belt.  Nothing so
              unique in that.  Last year over one thousand
              citizens from every walk of life embarked on
              some space mission or other.  Besides,
              selection for Jerome was virtually guaranteed
              at birth.  He is blessed with all the physical
              and intellectual gifts required for such an
              arduous undertaking, a genetic quotient second
              to none.

     Jerome's gaze drifts to the sky.

                           JEROME (VO)
              No, there is truly nothing remarkable about
              the progress of Jerome Morrow, except that I
              am not Jerome Morrow.


     EXT.  BEACH.  DUSK - THIRTY-ODD YEARS EARILER

     A starry sky.  The camera tilts down to find palm trees
     swaying against a setting sun.

                           JEROME (VO)
              I was conceived in the Riviera.  Not the
              French Riviera.

     The camera tilts down further to find a Buick Riviera parked in
     a deserted beachfront parking lot on a polluted stretch of
     beach.

                           JEROME (VO)
              The Detroit variety.

     Through the car's steamed windows we see Jerome's mother and
     father, MARIA and ANTONIO, early twenties, making love.

                           JEROME (VO)
              They used to say that a child conceived in love,
              has a greater chance of happiness.  They don't
              say that any more.


     INT.  FAMILY PLANNING CLINIC.  DAY.

     MARIA, wearing a medical gown, lies on an examining table, feet
     in stirrups.  A NURSE, forties, wheels an instrument tray
     towards her.  Maria suddenly disengages her feet from the
     stirrups and swings her legs off the table.

                           NURSE
              What are you doing?

                           MARIA
                      (shaking her head)
              I can't do this.

                           NURSE
                      (misinterpreting the problem)
              I told you, the government pays.  It's all
              taken care of.

                           MARIA
              No, you don't understand.  I can't.

     The nurse places a comforting hand on Maria's shoulder.

                           NURSE
                      (reassuring)
              The doctor will give you something.

                           MARIA
                      (removing the hand, adamant)
              I'm not doing it.

                           NURSE
                      (trying to make her see reason)
              Honey, you've made one mistake--

     The remark stings Maria.

                           NURSE
                      (softening her tone)
              --I've read your profile.  I don't
              know about the father but you carry
              enough hereditary factors on your own.
                      (pause)
              You can have other children.

                           MARIA
                      (holding her swollen stomach protectively)
              Not like this one.

                           NURSE
                      (trying to be diplomatic)
              Honey, look around you.  The world doesn't
              want one like that one.

     Maria gets off the table and reaches for her clothes laying
     across a chair.

                           MARIA
                      (irate)
              You don't know what it will be!

     The nurse watches Maria as she dresses, genuinely bewildered.

                           NURSE
                      (calling out to Maria as she disappears
                      out of the door)
              The child won't thank you!


     INT.  DELIVERY ROOM.  DAY.

     We focus on a crucifix dangling on a rosary.  Tilting up we find
     the rosary clasped between MARIA and ANTONIO's intertwined
     hands.

                           JEROME (VO)
              Those were early days--days when a priest
              could still persuade someone to put their
              faith in God's hands rather than those of
              the local geneticist.

     Bathed in sweat, Maria gives a final push on the delivery table.

     While still attached to his umbilical cord, the heel of the
     NEWBORN BABY BOY is immediately pricked by a masked NURSE.  A
     minute drop of blood is inserted into an analyzing machine.

     Even as the baby is put into Maria's arms, page after page of
     data begins to appear on a monitor, pulsing warning signals
     throughout the spreadsheets.

     Two assisting NURSES exchange a look.  Antonio senses something
     amiss.

                           ANTONIO
              What's wrong?

                           JEROME (VO)
              Of course, there was nothing wrong with me.
              Not so long ago I would have been considered
              a perfectly healthy, normal baby.  Ten fingers,
              ten toes.  That was all that used to matter.
              But now my immediate well-being was not the
              sole concern.

     Antonio turns his attention from his baby to the data appearing
     on the monitor.  We see individual items highlighted amongst the
     data - "NERVE CONDITION - PROBABILITY 60%", "MANIC DEPRESSION -
     42%", "OBESITY - 66%", "ATTENTION DEFICIT DISORDER - 89%"--

                          JEROME (VO)
              My destiny was mapped out before me--
              all my flaws, predispositions and
              susceptibilities - most untreatable to
              this day.  Only minutes old, the date and
              cause of my death was already known.

     Antonio focuses on a final highlighted item on the monitor's
     screen, "HEART DISORDER - 99% - EARLY FATAL POTENTIAL.".
     "LIFE EXPECTANCY - 33 YEARS".

                           NURSE
              The name?
                      (typing details into birth certificate)
              For the certificate.

                           MARIA
              Antonio--

                           ANTONIO
                      (correcting her)
              --No, Vincent Antonio.

     With a computer stylus he signs the nurse's handheld screen.


     EXT.  TRACT HOME - BACKYARD.  DAY.

     2-YEAR-OLD JEROME (REFERRED TO BY HIS GIVEN NAME OF "VINCENT"
     FOR MOST OF THE FOLLOWING FLASHBACK) running with a toy rocket
     falls more in clumsiness than fatigue.  MARIA suddenly whisks up
     the toddler.

                           MARIA
                      (hysterical)
              Oh, Vincent, Vincent, Vincent...I can't let
              you out of my sight.

     Maria frantically listens to her young son's heartbeat.  For
     his part, Vincent appears surprised by the attention.  Maria
     places a portable oxygen mask over Vincent's mouth.

                           JEROME (VO)
              I was born Vincent Antonio Luca.  And from
              an early age I came to think of myself as
              others thought of me - chronically ill.
              Every skinned knee and runny nose treated
              as if it were life-threatening.


     INT.  DAY CARE CENTER.  DAY.

     MARIA and ANTONIO drop off dark-haired 2-YEAR-OLD VINCENT at a
     Day Care Center.

                           JEROME (VO)
              And my parents soon realized that wherever
              I went, my genetic prophecy preceded me.

     While HEALTHY CHILDREN play outside on tricycles, clamber over
     jungle-gyms and finger-paint, the PRE-SCHOOL TEACHER shows
     Vincent into a room where CHILDREN WITH OBVIOUS DISABILITIES
     sleep on mats.

     Maria wheels around and marches out of the center with Vincent
     in her arms.  Antonio follows close behind, pleading with his
     wife to see sense.

                           JEROME (VO)
              They put off having any more children
              until they could afford not to gamble -
              to bring a child into the world in what
              has become the "natural" way.


     EXT.  HOME.  DAY.

     ANTONIO reluctantly shows off his spotless Buick Riviera to a
     prospective BUYER.

                           JEROME (VO)
              It meant selling the beloved Buick.

     The two men haggle over the price while MARIA, holding VINCENT
     in her arms, looks on.  Finally money and a pink slip are
     exchanged.

                           VINCENT (VO)
              My father got a good price.  After all,
              the only accident he'd ever had in that
              car was me.

     As the BUYER drives away, Antonio shrugs to Maria to hide his
     disappointment.


     EXT.  GENETIC COUNSELLING OFFICE BUILDING.  DAY.

     ANTONIO, MARIA and 2-YEAR-OLD VINCENT exit a packed commuter
     bus and enter a Genetic Counselling office building bearing
     the sign - "PRO-CREATION".


     INT.  GENETIC COUNSELLING OFFICE.  DAY.

     A GENETICIST stares into a high-powered microscope as ANTONIO,
     MARIA and 2-YEAR-OLD VINCENT are shown into the office by a
     NURSE.  On the counter beside the Geneticist is a glass-doored
     industrial refrigerator containing petri dishes arranged on
     racks several feet high.

                           GENETICIST
                      (to the nurse, without taking
                       his eyes from his binocular microscope)
              Put up the dish.

     While Antonio and Maria take a seat in front of a television
     monitor, the Nurse puts a labelled petri dish under a video-
     equipped microscope.  The Geneticist swings around in his chair
     to greet his clients.

     Four magnified clusters of cells - eight cells on each cluster
     - appear on the television screen.

                           GENETICIST
              Your extracted eggs...
                      (noting the couple's names from
                      data along the edge of the screen)
              ...Maria, have been fertilized with...
              Antonio's sperm and we have performed an
              analysis of the resulting pre-embryos.
              After screening we're left with two healthy
              boys and two healthy girls.  Naturally, no
              critical pre-dispositions to any of the major
              inheritable diseases.  All that remains is
              to select the most compatible candidate.

     Maria and Antonio exchange a nervous smile.

                           GENETICIST
              First, we may as well decide on gender.
              Have you given it any thought?

                           MARIA
                      (referring to the toddler
                      on her knee)
              We would like Vincent to have a brother...
              you know, to play with.

     The Geneticist nods.  He scans the data around the edge of the
     screen.

                           GENETICIST
              You've already specified blue eyes, dark
              hair and fair skin.  I have taken the liberty
              of eradicating any potentially prejudicial
              conditions - premature baldness, myopia,
              alcoholism and addictive susceptibility,
              propensity for violence and obesity--

                           MARIA
                      (interrupting, anxious)
              --We didn't want--diseases, yes.

                           ANTONIO
                      (more diplomatic)
              We were wondering if we should leave some
              things to chance.

                           GENETICIST
                      (reassuring)
              You want to give your child the best possible
              start.  Believe me, we have enough imperfection
              built-in already.  Your child doesn't need
              any additional burdens.  And keep in mind,
              this child is still you, simply the best of you.
              You could conceive naturally a thousand times
              and never get such a result.

                           ANTONIO
                      (squeezing Maria's hand)
              He's right, Maria.  That's right.

     Maria is only half-convinced, but the Geneticist swiftly moves
     on.

                           GENETICIST
              Is there any reason you'd want a left-handed
              child?

                           ANTONIO
                      (blank)
              Er, no...

                           GENETICIST
                      (explaining)
              Some believe it is associated with creativity,
              although there's no evidence.  Also for
              sports like baseball it can be an advantage.

                           ANTONIO
                      (shrugs)
              I like football.

                           GENETICIST
                      (injecting a note of levity)
              I have to warn you, Mr Luca, he's going
              to be at least a head taller than you.
              Prepare for a crick in the neck in
              sixteen years time.

     Antonio beams proudly.

                           GENETICIST
                      (scanning the data on the screen)
              Anything I've forgotten?

                           MARIA
                      (hesitant about broaching the subject)
              We want him--we were hoping he would get
              married and have children.  We'd like
              grandchildren.

                           GENETICIST
                      (conspiratorial smile)
              I understand.  That's already been taken
              care of.
                      (an afterthought)
              Now you appreciate I can only work with
              the raw material I have at my disposal but
              for a little extra...I could also attempt to
              insert sequences associated with enhanced
              mathematical or musical ability.

                           MARIA
                      (suddenly enthused)
              Antonio, the choir...

                           GENETICIST
                      (interjecting, covering himself)
              I have to caution you it's not fool-proof.
              With multi-gene traits there can be no guarantees.

                           ANTONIO
              How much extra?

                           GENETICIST
              It would be five thousand more.

     Antonio's face falls.

                           ANTONIO
              I'm sorry, there's no way we can.

                           GENETICIST
              Don't worry.  You'll probably do just
              as well singing to him in the womb.
                      (rising to end the appointment)
              We can implant the most successful
              pre-embryo tomorrow afternoon.

     Maria is staring at the four magnified clumps on the screen.

                           MARIA
              What will happen to the others?

                           GENETICIST
                      (reassuring)
              They are not babies, Maria, merely
              "human possibilities".

     Removing the petri dish from beneath the lens of the microscope,
     he points out the four minuscule specks.

                           GENETICIST
              Smaller than a grain of sand.

     DISSOLVE TO


     INT.  TRACT HOME.  DAY.

     A red pencil draws a mark on a doorway at the height of a
     child's head.  The child moves away and the name, "ANTON 11" is
     written beside the mark by proud father, ANTONIO.

                           JEROME (VO)
              That's how my brother, Anton, came into the
              world - a son my father considered worthy
              of his name.

     There is little physical similarity between 11-YEAR-OLD ANTON
     and 13-YEAR-OLD VINCENT standing beside him, apart from their
     height.  In fact Vincent is mortified to see that his younger
     brother's mark is a fraction of an inch higher than the mark
     beside his own name, "VINCENT 13".  Vincent runs from the room.


     EXT.  BEACH.  DAY.

     13-YEAR-OLD VINCENT and 11-YEAR-OLD ANTON sit together on a
     windswept beach.

     Anton picks up a broken shell and deliberately slices the tip of
     his thumb with the sharp edge.  He hands the shell to Vincent
     who hesitantly follows suit.

                           JEROME (VO)
              By the time we were playing at blood
              brothers I understood that there was something
              very different flowing through my veins.

     The two brothers press their thumbs together, merging the blood.

                           JEROME (VO)
              And I'd need an awful lot more than
              a drop if I was going to get anywhere.


     EXT.  BEACH.  LATER IN THE DAY.

     While ANTONIO and MARIA doze under a beach umbrella, ANTON and
     VINCENT enter the water, diving through the waves.  From above
     we watch their two young bodies swimming beside each other
     beyond the breakers.

                           JEROME (VO)
              Our favorite game was "chicken".  When our
              parents weren't watching, we used to swim outside
              the flags, as far out as we dared.  It was about
              who would get scared and turn back first.

     Suddenly VINCENT stops swimming, pulling up sharply in the
     water, exhausted and fearful.  He watches ANTON swim on into the
     distance.

                           JEROME (VO)
              Of course, it was always me.  Anton was by far
              the stronger swimmer and he had no excuse to fail.


     INT.  SCHOOL - CLASSROOM.  DAY.

     A TEACHER gives a physics lesson.  The bespectacled 13-YEAR-OLD
     VINCENT has his arm energetically raised at each opportunity but
     is never called upon.  Eventually he lowers his arm in defeat.

                           JEROME (VO)
              My genetic scarlet letter continued to follow
              me from school to school.  When you're told
              you're prone to learning disabilities, it's
              sometimes easier not to disappoint anybody.


     EXT.  STREET.  NIGHT.

     13-YEAR-OLD VINCENT stands at a cul-de-sac at the end of a long,
     straight deserted street.  He places a basketball in the middle
     of the street to represent the SUN and begins to unwind the huge
     reel of string attached to the ball.  11-YEAR-OLD ANTON walks a
     pace behind him.  Several yards along the trail a bead is
     threaded through the string to represent the planet MERCURY.

                           ANTON
              How many astronauts are there, anyway?

     Vincent ignores him and continues to reel out the string.

                           ANTON
              I bet I could be one.

     Vincent stops and regards his younger brother with contempt.

                           VINCENT
              You're standing on Venus.

     Anton lifts his foot.  There is a bead beneath it.


     INT/EXT.  CAR / SATELLITE DISH.  DUSK.

     VINCENT has developed into a handsome 17-YEAR-OLD.  His
     spectacles hidden, he and a YOUNG WOMAN are necking in the front
     seat of a beat-up car, parked overlooking a huge satellite dish.

                           JEROME (VO)
              I was popular enough until it got around
              that I wasn't a long-term proposition.

     The love-making intensifies.  The YOUNG WOMAN moves down
     Vincent's chest and unzips his fly.

                           JEROME (VO)
              Those who didn't know already could easily
              find out for themselves.  It was certainly
              no problem coaxing the information out of me.

     We remain on Vincent's face as he climaxes.  The YOUNG WOMAN
     turns her head away from the spent Jerome and, out of his
     view, trickles semen from her mouth into a clear specimen vial.

                           JEROME (VO)
              I didn't blame them.  You need to know if a
              prospective husband can qualify for a mortgage
              or life insurance or can hold down a decent job.


     INT.  HOME.  DAY.

     In the living room of their modest home, the dark-haired, 17-
     year-old, bespectacled VINCENT sits opposite his PARENTS.  The
     crestfallen Vincent has a book on his lap entitled "CAREERS IN
     SPACE".

                           MOTHER
                      (trying to break it gently)
              Vincent, you have to be realistic.  A
              heart condition like yours--

                           VINCENT
              --I don't care.  I'll take the risk.

                           MOTHER
              It's not just you they have to be concerned
              about.  Perhaps we could get you one of
              those new pacemakers.  They're not perfect
              but--

                           FATHER
                      (letting his frustration show)
              For God's sake, Vincent, don't you understand.
              The only way you'll see the inside of a space
              ship is if you're cleaning it!

     Vincent looks at his father in disbelief.

     On a dinner table on the other side of the living room, 15-YEAR-
     OLD ANTON looks up from the biological specimen he is studying
     with a magnifying glass.


     INT.  PERSONNEL OFFICE - WAITING ROOM.  DAY.

     17-YEAR-OLD VINCENT hides his glasses in his pocket as he enters
     a WAITING ROOM.  He gazes around at other APPLICANTS.

                           JEROME (VO)
              My father was right.  It didn't matter how
              much I lied on my resumÈ, my real C.V. was
              in my cells.  Why should anybody invest all
              that money to train me, when there are a
              thousand other applicants with a far cleaner
              profile?  Of course, it's illegal to discriminate -
              "genoism" it's called - but no one takes the
              laws seriously.

     As Jerome enters the office, we focus on the doorhandle he has
     just touched.

                           JEROME (VO)
              If you refuse to disclose, they can always
              take a sample from a doorhandle...

     Vincent hesitates before shaking the PERSONNEL OFFICER's
     outstretched hand.

                           JEROME (VO)
              ...or a handshake...

     We focus on Jerome's envelope attached to his application form
     sitting on the Manager's desk.

                           JEROME (VO)
              ...even the saliva off your application form.

     Sitting opposite the manager, Jerome's face falls.  The manager
     puts a clear, plastic cup in front of Jerome.

                           JEROME (VO)
              But for the most part we know who we are.
              And if all else fails, a legal drug test
              can just as easily become an illegal peek
              at your future in the company.

     Vincent saves the Manager the trouble and exits the office,
     leaving the cup where it sits.


     EXT.  BEACH.  DAY.

     17-YEAR-OLD JEROME walks up the beach to find 15-YEAR-OLD ANTON
     sitting with the YOUNG WOMAN Vincent had previously dated.

                           JEROME (VO)
              I didn't blame Anton for his free ride.  You
              can't blame someone for winning the lottery.

     The Young Woman hastily departs.

     LATER the two brothers face each other on the sand.  Anton is
     the more statuesque of the two.

                           ANTON
                      (cocky)
              You sure you want to do this?

     Vincent's answer is to walk towards the water.  Anton smiles
     mockingly at his brother's grim "game face" and
     follows.

     From an aerial view we watch VINCENT and his younger brother, ANTON,
     swim beyond the breakers.

                           JEROME (VO)
              It was the last time we swam together.
              Out into the open sea, like always,
              knowing each stroke towards the horizon
              was one we had to make back to the
              shore.  Like always, the unspoken contest.

     We watch the two young men swimming stroke for stroke.  They
     swim far out, beyond the point.  Suddenly ANTON starts to slow,
     his strokes becoming labored until he becomes motionless in the
     water.  He begins to sink like a stone.  VINCENT, realizing
     Anton is no longer beside him, turns back to lend support.
     Vincent takes him in a lifeguard hold and begins to nurse him
     back to shore.  Finally the two boys are coughed up onto the
     shallows.  They collapse, just beyond the waterline, exhausted,
     gasping for air.  ANTONIO and MARIA arrive on the scene.  ANTON
     is the first to recover while VINCENT clutches his side, his
     face screwed up in pain.  Maria kneels down and starts to
     administer to Vincent but his father, Antonio, is unable to
     conceal his anger and contempt for Vincent.

                           ANTONIO
              Vincent, you damn fool!  You could have killed
              Anton with your ridiculous contest!  Why should
              he risk his life to save yours?!  When are you
              going to get it through your thick head--you
              can't compete with your brother!  Why try?!

     Maria takes Antonio aside.  Anton and Vincent exchange a look.

                           ANTON
              Why didn't you say anything?

                           VINCENT
              Why didn't you?
                        (staring back at his father knowingly)
              It's okay.  It's the way they want it.

                           JEROME (VO)
              It confirmed everything in the minds of
              my parents - that they had taken the right
              course with my younger brother and the
              wrong course with me.  It would have been so
              much easier for everyone if I had slipped away
              that day.  I decided to grant them that wish.


     INT.  HOME.  NIGHT.

     ANTON stands at the mantlepiece in the dimly-lit living room.
     He gazes at a framed family portrait - Vincent's face has been
     torn out of it.  He suddenly spies VINCENT exiting the front
     gate, carrying a suitcase.  Anton goes to shout Vincent's name
     but the words don't get out.


     EXT.  GATTACA.  DAWN.

     A pick-up truck, packed with a CLEANING CREW, pulls into the
     rear of the building.  They are no longer strictly the migrant
     workers we have come to expect but rather a mixture of
     ethnicities - all members of a genetic underclass that does not
     discriminate by race.

     As VINCENT exits the truck and turns towards the camera, we
     discover that he has now matured into the man we have come to
     know as JEROME.  The only visible differences are the glasses he
     wears and his hair, still naturally dark.

                           JEROME (VO)
              Like many others in my situation, I moved
              around a lot in the next few years, getting
              work where I could.  I must have cleaned
              half the toilets in the state.

     We follow VINCENT through the course of a day.  Cleaning
     restrooms, toilets, picking up litter, sweeping, washing
     windows - gazing at the AEROSPACE WORKERS below.  The building
     is part of the Gattaca facility, located near a shuttle launch
     site.  Throughout the day, with the regularity of 747's, Vincent
     spies rocket ships in the distance, launching into the sky.
     Jerome's is the only head that turns and looks up.  Long after
     the sun has set, Vincent is still working.  Another rocket ship
     lights up the darkness.  Vincent gazes forlornly into the
     heavens.


     EXT. GATTACA - GLASS WALL.  DAY.

     VINCENT cleans a window from the outside, staring in at the
     arrogant GATTACA EMPLOYEES entering the security channels -
     a smaple taken from their fingertips.  Jerome, in a trance,
     constantly cleans the same spot of glass.  He fails to notice an
     Older Janitor, CAESAR, appear beside him.

                           CAESAR
              When you clean the glass, Vincent, don't
              clean it too well.

                           VINCENT
                      (confused)
              What do you mean?

                           CAESAR
                      (glancing to the Gattaca workers)
              You might get ideas.

                           VINCENT
              But if the glass is clean, it'll be easier
              for you to see me when I'm on the other
              side of it.

     Caesar smiles at Vincent's cockiness.


     INT.  GATTACA.  DAY.

     VINCENT empties garbage into a dumpster adjacent to Gattaca.
     His attention is drawn to something in the trash.  A discarded
     manual on Celestial Mechanics and Navigation.  He wipes food
     residue off the corner.


     INT.  ASTRONOMY & TELESCOPE SHOP.  DAY.

     A forest of telescopes on tripods in an astronomy shop.  VINCENT
     enters the store with a bucket and squeegee and immediately goes
     to clean the storefront window.  The STORE OWNER looks up from
     his tabloid - "STAR" magazine.

                           OWNER
              Where's Earl?

                           JEROME
              He fell.  Lucky it was only the second floor.

     The owner nods and returns to his magazine.  When he looks up
     again one of his tripods is missing its telescope and Jerome is
     nowhere to be seen.


     INT.  IN-VALID HOUSING PROJECT.  NIGHT.

     JEROME returns to his bare apartment.  He removes the cloth
     covering the bucket to reveal a dumpy-shaped telescope snugly
     wedged inside.  He starts to pour over his collection of
     textbooks.  Other tattered space paraphenalia adorns the wall.

                           JEROME (VO)
              Of course the best test score in the world
              wasn't going to get me in the front door
              unless I had the blood test to go with it.


     EXT.  GATTACA.  NIGHT.

     While his fellow WORKERS sit on the steps at the service
     entrance to Gattaca, passing around an unlabeled bottle of clear
     liquor, VINCENT sits some distance away studying his text book.
     In the absence of a computer, he practices typing commands on a
     keyboard handdrawn on the flap of a cardboard box.

     A tiny, seedy-looking man, GERMAN, forties, appears from
     nowhere and takes a seat beside him.

                           GERMAN
                      (offering his hand)
              Vincent, I'm German--
                      (anticipating Vincent's response)
              That's my name.

     He looks the apprehensive Vincent up and down.

                           VINCENT
              What do you think?

                           GERMAN
                      (shrugs)
              I think I could do something
                      (glancing to the text book)
              provided you know what you're doing
              and you can meet the terms.

     Vincent pulls a plastic e-money card from his overalls.

                           GERMAN
              You got a photo of yourself?

     Vincent produces a snapshot of himself - torn from the family
     portrait.  German feeds the snapshot into the pocket-sized
     computer he carries.  The picture is instantly scanned and
     appears on the computer's small color screen.  German returns
     the photograph and hastily departs.

     CAESAR, the elderly janitor, notices German's exit.

                           CAESAR
                      (to Vincent)
              I thought I told you not to get any ideas.


     High up the side of a building, washing windows, VINCENT pauses
     occasionally to practice typing commands on his cardboard keys -
     viewing a screen in his imagination - or the nightsky itself.
     He hears his name being called.

                           GERMAN
              Vincent...Vincent...

                           VINCENT
                      (staring through his glasses)
              German, is that you?

                           GERMAN
              Vincent, come down.  I've found him.


     INT.  IN-VALID HOUSING PROJECT.  NIGHT.

     GERMAN leads VINCENT through a maze of corridors.

                           JEROME (VO)
              For the genetically superior, success
              is easier to attain but is by no means
              guaranteed.  After all, there is no gene
              for fate.  And when, for one reason or
              another, a member of the elite falls on
              hard times, their genetic identity becomes
              a valued commodity for the unscrupulous.
              One man's loss is another man's gain.

     He gives a conspiratorial nod to another passing DNA BROKER,
     both men carrying their palm-top computers.

                           GERMAN
                      (enthusiastically reading from data on
                      his portable screen as he walks)
              He has the heart of an ox.  He could run
              through a Goddamn wall--if he could still run.
              Actually, he was a big college swimming star.

                           VINCENT
              I hope he's not just a body.

                           GERMAN
              No problem.  Before he dropped out he was
              an honor student, the right majors--

                           VINCENT
              How do I square the accident?

                           GERMAN
                      (still reading data from his
                      palm-top computer)
              It happened in Australasia.  He checked
              in yesterday.  No family complications, no
              record he ever broke his neck.  As far as
              anybody's concerned, he's still a walking,
              talking, fully-productive member of society.
              You just have to get him off the pipe and
              fill in the last two years of his life.
                      (correcting himself)
              Excuse me, your life.

     German has stopped walking as if they have arrived.

                           VINCENT
                      (looking around for a likely
                      candidate but finding none)
              Where is he?

     German reaches towards a PARAPLEGIC sitting in his wheelchair
     in the stairwell directly in front of them, his head slumped, an
     incriminating bong nestled in his lap.  German pulls the man's
     head up by the hair.  EUGENE.  Depsite the patchy, unkempt
     beard and thick glaze over his eyes he bears a striking
     similarity to Vincent.  Vincent holds a mirror beside the face
     of the lethargic Eugene to compare his own reflection.

                           GERMAN
                      (smiling confidently
              What did I tell you?  Which one's the mirror?

                           VINCENT
                      (still not fully convinced)
              That's the hair color in his profile?

     German checks an entry in his computer:  "HAIR: BLONDE"

                           GERMAN
              Yeah.

                           VINCENT
                      (touching his own dark strands)
              I'd have to bleach my hair.

                           GERMAN
                      (irritated, impatient)
              Why are you inventing problems?  You two
              are a couple of goddam clones.  You look
              so right together, I want to double my fee.

                           VINCENT
                      (a thought occurs, addressing the
                      paraplegic for the first time)
              How tall are you?

                           EUGENE
                      (deadpan)
              Four foot six.

     Vincent grins, realizing that Eugene is referring to his seated
     height.  There is an instant connection between the two men.

                           VINCENT
              Okay, how tall did you used to be?

                           EUGENE
                      (apathetic, still under the
                      influence of whatever he's been smoking)
              Six one.

                           VINCENT
                      (to German, disappointed)
              He's too tall.

                           GERMAN
                      (shrugs)
              You can wear lifts.

                           VINCENT
              Even with lifts I'm never that tall.

                           GERMAN
              There's a way.


     INT.  BACKSTREET SURGERY.  NIGHT.

     In a primitive operating theatre, VINCENT lies on a table, his
     lower legs masked off for surgery.  The SURGEON switches on a
     surgical saw and lines it up with handdrawn incision marks.
     Metal struts are ready to elongate his legs.


     INT.  IN-VALID HOUSING PROJECT - APARTMENT.  DAY.

     GERMAN wheels the dazed EUGENE into the apartment, cluttered
     with space paraphenalia.  One wheel of his rusting wheelchair is
     flimsily held on with wire.  VINCENT follows behind on crutches,
     both lower legs in casts and cross-braces.  Vincent signs the
     contract German puts in front of him.


     EXT.  STREET OUTSIDE A BAR.  DAY.

     EUGENE, glassy-eyed, strides out of a bar, past camera and into
     the street.  We hear a squeal of brakes and a sickening thud.


     INT.  HOUSING PROJECT - APARTMENT.  DAY.

     EUGENE awakens with a scream, bathed in sweat, arms bound to a
     bed - the only real piece of furniture in the room.  VINCENT,
     sitting on a crate beside him, soaking a towel in a bowl of
     water, is taken by surprise.  Eugene continues to scream and
     thrash, fighting against his bindings.  Vincent stuffs the towel
     into Eugene's mouth and holds onto his arms.

                           JEROME (VO)
              I confess, at first I wondered if I had rescued
              a man who was already dead.


     INT.  HOUSING PROJECT - APARTMENT - BATHROOM.  NIGHT.

     VINCENT holds EUGENE's head over the toilet bowl as he vomits
     violently.  Eugene's paralysis and Vincent's broken legs make
     the operation doubly difficult.

     Finally Eugene has nothing left in his stomach to vomit.  He
     drops to the floor in exhaustion.  Vincent, also exhausted from
     the effort of holding Eugene over the bowl, joins him on the
     broken linoleum.  Both men stare up at the ceiling that carries
     a map of the constellation.

                           VINCENT
              You okay, Jerome?

                           EUGENE
                      (ironically referring to
                      their mutual immobility)
              Yeah.  You want to go dancing tonight?

     Vincent smiles.


     INT.  HOUSING PROJECT - APARTMENT.  NIGHT.

     EUGENE turns his nose up at the plate of boiled meat and
     potatoes that VINCENT puts in front of him.  Vincent catches the
     look.

                           VINCENT
              What's wrong with it?

                           EUGENE
              I think I'd better choose the menu.  After all,
              you're learning how to be me, I'm not learning
              how to be you.

                           VINCENT
                      (shrugs)
              Suit yourself.

                           EUGENE
                      (trying to be more diplomatic)
              Listen, I don't want you to think I'm ungrateful
              --I know you and that little broker--what do you
              call him?

                           VINCENT
              German.

                           EUGENE
              You're both going to a lot of trouble--
                      (trying to be tactful)
              Maybe you can con somebody into believing
              you're me to get your foot in the door--but
              once you're inside, you're on your own.  I'm
              sure you're sincere...
                      (glancing to the space paraphenalia)
              ...but I was being groomed for something like
              this myself.  Even without the accident I don't
              think I would have made it.  My point is--how the
              hell do you expect to pull this off?

     Jerome merely stares back as if the thought of failure has never
     occurred to him.

                           VINCENT
                      (shrugs and states it simply)
              I don't know exactly, Jerome.

                           EUGENE
                      (laughing)
              At least you're honest.
                      (a thought occurs)
              Call me by my middle name--Eugene--If you're
              going to be Jerome, you may as well start
              getting used to it.

     NB:  FOR THE REMAINDER OF THE SCREENPLAY "VINCENT" IS REFERRED
     TO AS "JEROME".

     INT. HOUSING PROJECT - APARTMENT.  NIGHT.

     JEROME looks through Eugene's personal effects, including a
     photograph album.  He is drawn to a swimming medal inside the
     album at a page displaying a photo of a wealthy, austere
     MOTHER - Eugene evidently comes from money.

     Even as he wheels into the room in his rickety wheelchair we see
     that EUGENE has the bearing of someone of good breeding.  He has
     a bag of blood on his lap.  More blood is being drawn from his
     arm through an IV.  Eugene catches Jerome looking at the album.

                           JEROME
                      (guiltily closing the book)
              I have to know where you come from.

                           EUGENE
              If anybody asks, tell them the truth--
              your family disowns you.  You are a
              disappointment, Jerome.

                           JEROME
                      (referring to Eugene's medal, impressed)
              What about this?

                           EUGENE
              Wrong color.  It's silver.
                      (tossing the bag of blood to Jerome)
              It's not easy living up to this.

     Eugene wheels away.


     INT.  HOUSING PROJECT - APARTMENT.  DAY.

     JEROME practises writing with his right hand, trying to
     replicate Eugene's signature.

                           EUGENE
                      (wheeling by, looking over Jerome's
                      shoulder at the signature)
              It needs work.

                           JEROME
                      (rueful)
              You had to be a right-hander.

                           EUGENE
              Noone orders southpaws anymore.


     INT.  HOUSING PROJECT - APARTMENT.  DAY.

     A pair of spectacles lie on the bed.  JEROME, still wearing his
     twin casts, sits behind an optometrist's portable examining
     device.  GERMAN hovering in the background, an OPTOMETRIST
     custom-fits JEROME with gossamer thin contact lenses.

                           JEROME (VO)
              Myopia is a dead giveaway - one of the earliest
              and most justifiable of the quality-of-life
              corrections.  Anybody with impaired vision is
              certain to be suffering from all the other
              deficiencies of a "nonadvantaged" birth.

                           GERMAN
                      (inspecting the lens in Jerome's eye)
              It's no good.  I can see an edge.  He may as
              well walk in there with a cane.


     INT.  HOUSING PROJECT - APARTMENT.  DAY.

     The Optometrist has been replaced in the living room with a
     BLACK MARKET DENTIST who bonds JEROME's small, gapped teeth to
     match EUGENE's perfectly straight, white picket fences.


     INT.  HOUSING PROJECT - APARTMENT.  DAY.

     Hair already bleached and cut to match Eugene's hairstyle,
     JEROME sits in a chair against a hastily erected white paper
     backdrop.  From his wheelchair, EUGENE puts the finishing
     touches to Jerome's hair.  He wheels himself out of the way.
     The final accomplice in Jerome's deception, a BLACK MARKET
     COMPUTER GRAPHICS DESIGNER, takes Jerome's photo with a video
     camera.  Manipulating the captured image, the Designer morphs
     Jerome's face into the face of Eugene.  The resulting photo that
     spits out of a printer is neither one nor the other but an
     acceptable combination of the two.


     INT.  HOUSING PROJECT - APARTMENT.  DAY.

     EUGENE is starting to prepare Jerome's specimen bags for the
     first time.  He winces in pain as he plucks several hairs from
     his head.  JEROME, now out of his casts, prepares job
     applications.

                           EUGENE
                      (still grimacing, referring to the follicles)
              You really need that much?

                           JEROME
              More than that.  You'll get used to it.

                           EUGENE
                      (yanking out another hair)
              God, what wouldn't you do to leave the planet?

                           JEROME
                      (inspecting a hair follicle)
              Leave?  Just a few million years ago every atom in
              this hair--in our bodies--was a part of a star.
              I don't see it as leaving.  I see it as going home.

                           EUGENE
                      (marvelling at Jerome's earnestness)
              God, you're serious, aren't you?

     Jerome ignores him.  Having learnt his lesson, he hands the
     envelopes to EUGENE to lick the flaps.


     INT.  HOUSING PROJECT - APARTMENT.  DAY.

     JEROME is doing a late-minute cram on a geriatric computer from
     the late 1990's.  Checking the time, Jerome hurriedly picks up
     the shirt that EUGENE has been ironing from a prone position on
     the floor.

                           JEROME
              It's not too late to back out.

                           EUGENE
              You don't know what a relief it is not to
              be me.  Are you sure you want the job?

     Jerome contemplates the question for a moment.

                           JEROME
              What about you?  What's in this for you, Eugene?

                           EUGENE
                      (referring to the bladder bag he wears)
              Listen, I bag this stuff anyway.  It may
              as well pay my rent.

     Jerome hurrise to the bathroom where, with some difficulty, he
     inserts his urine device for the first time.  The new improved
     Jerome emerges into the living room ready for his interview.


     INT.  GATTACA CORPORATION - TESTING LAB.  DAY.

     JEROME emerges from a bathroom and hands a TECHNICIAN his
     plastic cup full of fraudulent urine and inserts it into the
     analyzer.

                           TECHNICIAN
                      (reading off the profile)
              Congratulations.

                           JEROME
                      (perplexed)
              What about the interview?

                           TECHNICIAN
                      (referring to the cup)
              That was it.


     EXT.  GATTACA.  DAY.

     JEROME, scarcely able to disguise his delight, exits Gattaca,
     trying not to stare at the superb specimens who are now his
     "colleagues".

                           JEROME (VO)
              The majority of people are now made-to-order.
              What began as a means to rid society of
              inheritable diseases has become a way to design
              your offspring--the line between health and
              enhancement blurred forever.  Eyes can always be
              brighter, a voice purer, a mind sharper, a body
              stronger, a life longer.  Everyone seeks to give
              their child the best chance but the most skilled
              geneticists are only accessible to the priveleged few.

     In a nearby park MODEL CHILDREN from MODEL PARENTS play
     together.

                           JEROME (VO)
              Anyone who is the product of an altered
              DNA is proudly referred to as a "DAN",
              "self-made man or woman", "man-child". 


     INT.  HOUSING PROJECT - APARTMENT.  NIGHT.

     JEROME wheels EUGENE out of their housing project.  He takes in
     the neighborhood for the last time.  We focus on a POOR COUPLE
     cradling an INFANT.

                           JEROME (VO)
              Those parents who, for moral or, more likely
              economic reasons, refrain from tampering with
              their offspring's genetic makeup or who fail
              to abort a deprived fetus condemn their children
              to a life of routine discrimination.

     We glimpse other PEOPLE in the neighborhood.  They appear poor
     but, for the most part, physically normal.  However a pall of
     gloom hangs over them.

                           JEROME (VO)
              Officially they are called "In-Valids"*.  Also
              known as "godchildren", "men-of-god", "faith births",
              "blackjack births", "deficients", "defectives",
              "genojunk", "ge-gnomes", "the fucked-up people".

     [* "IN-VALID" pronounced as in "an invalid license"]

                           JEROME (VO)
              They are the "healthy ill".  They don't
              actually have anything yet - they may never.
              But since few of the pre-conditions can be
              cured or reversed, it is easier to treat them
              as if they were already sick.

     As they enter a car, driven by GERMAN, Jerome spies a beautiful
     young GIRL, 11, sitting on the steps of the housing project,
     staring forlornly into space.  While there is no outward sign of
     any deficiency, she is somehow aware that she is damaged goods.

     Jerome glances in the rearview mirror.

                           JEROME (VO)
              By means of a donor I have cheated the
              system for the last four years to open doors
              that would otherwise be closed to me.

     Jerome wheels Eugene into the palatial condominium complex where
     the two men now reside.


     INT.  GATTACA.  PRESENT DAY.

     We return to JEROME's reflection in the glass.  Other GATTACA
     EMPLOYEES are gradually gathering behind him.

                           JEROME (VO)
              In the guise of Jerome Morror I have risen
              quickly through the ranks of Gattaca.  Only one
              of the Mission Directors has ever come close
              to discovering my true identity.

     We now see what Jerome has been gazing at through the window
     the whole time - the sight that has brought a hush to the
     complex.  Through an open office door lies the body of a large
     man - the MURDERED DIRECTOR, lying where he has just been
     discovered, in a pool of his own blood.

                           JEROME (VO)
              Strange to think, he may have more success
              exposing me in death than he did in life.

     Jerome wipes his eye and also goes to investigate.  We focus on
     an extreme close up of his EYELASH.  Loosened by Jerome's hand,
     it breaks free and floats gently down to the floor where it
     comes to rest.


     INT.  GATTACA AEROSPACE CORPORATION.  MORNING.

     DETECTIVE HUGO, late-forties, wearing a crime-scene hygenic suit
     and gloves and a full clear mask - looking more like a surgeon
     or a toxic waste worker than a detective - places a blood-
     spattered computer keyboard alongside the Director's shattered
     skull.  The indentations match the blunt corner of the keyboard.
     Hugo detaches the dangling keyboard from its parent computer and
     seals the likely murder weapon in a marked, transparent plastic
     bag.

     A CREW of similarly-suited homicide detectives systematically
     vacuum the surrounding office area with metallic, industrial-
     looking mini-vacs.  Once each work space has been vacuumed, the
     transparent plastic vacuum bag is detached, sealed and labelled.

     OTHER DETECTIVES video the scene with camcorders.  Video prints
     spit out of the cameras for instant inspection.


     EXT.  GATTACA - LANDSCAPED GARDENS.  DAY.

     A silicon police tape cordons off the crime scene.  From the
     landscaped garden, a crowd of GATTACA EMPLOYEES view the
     proceedings through the glass walls.

                           EMPLOYEE 1
                      (staring at the Director's body)
              Awful.

                           EMPLOYEE 2
              Yeah, awful it didn't happen sooner.

     Nervous smirks from nearby employees.  We focus on JEROME.
     Standing slightly apart from the others, he does not appear to
     share the joke, or perhaps even hear it.  Jerome watches, wide-
     eyed, as a DETECTIVE approaches his work station with a mini-
     vac.  A chill goes through Jerome as the detective's cleaner
     passes over his desk.

     Jerome is distracted by a smear on the window, obstructing his
     view.  Without thinking, he breathes on the glass and rubs the
     smear away with his elbow.  Nearby, elderly janitor, CAESAR
     notices Jerome's fastidious act and reads the panic in Jerome's
     eyes.  DIRECTOR JOSEF suddenly appears at Jerome's shoulder.
     Standing a pace behind the Director, computer notepad in hand,
     is IRENE.

                           DIRECTOR JOSEF
              You're lucky to be getting out of this.

                           JEROME
              We're still going ahead as planned?

                           DIRECTOR JOSEF
              The launch window is only open until week's
              end.  Tragic though this event may be, it
              hasn't stopped the planets turning.

     He glances towards a group of Detectives headed by HUGO.

                           DIRECTOR JOSEF
              You'll have to excuse me, Jerome.  I have to
              meet with the authorities--naturally, we're
              co-operating in any way, although I won't
              tolerate a major disruption.
                      (as he departs)
              I wish I was going with you, Jerome.

     As the pair depart, Jerome and Irene exchange a glance.  Irene
     is also aware of Jerome's unease.


     INT.  GATTACA - CORRIDOR.  DAY.

     We focus on JEROME's eyelash, still lying on the floor.
     A huge crescent-shaped hair that fills the screen.  Suddenly
     there is a roar of a mini-vac and the eyelash is sucked up.  We
     follow the eyelash's journey, down the throat of the cleaner
     into the specimen bag where it is sucked against the bag's
     clear, plastic wall.


     INT.  GATTACA - COMPUTER COMPLEX.  DAY.

     The DIRECTOR's corpse is sealed in a plastic bodybag and wheeled
     away on a gurney.  The blood and other body matter from the
     murder scene is sucked up by a portable wet-vac and the sample
     bag appropriately labeled.


     EXT.  GATTACA - COURTYARD CAFETERIA.  DAY

     A chime sounds over the P.A. follwed by an announcement.

                           ANNOUNCER (OC)
              Thank you for your co-operation.  Please
              return to your work stations immediately.

     The PROGRAMMERS get to their feet en masse and begin filing into
     the work room.

                           EMPLOYEE 3
                      (sarcastic aside)
              What, no counselling?


     INT.  GATTACA COMPUTER COMPLEX - DIRECTOR'S OFFICE.  DAY.

     A WOMAN ASSISTANT whose keyboard was used in the attack has to
     pause as a MAINTENANCE WORKER gives her work station a final
     spray to return it to its former pristine condition.  A new
     keyboard is plugged into her monitor to replace the one taken as
     evidence.


     INT.  GATTACA COMPUTER COMPLEX.  DAY.

     JEROME opens his desk drawer to check his comb, now plucked
     completely clean.  He carefully places two of Eugene's hairs to
     the comb and scatters another bag of fraudulent matter around
     his work station.


     INT.  GATTACA - SIMULATOR ROOM.  DAY.

     In a large, bare room a simulator does a slow dance back and
     forth on its hydralic legs, miming the path of the space
     craft Jerome will soon be aboard.  The simulation ends and
     JEROME exits the simulator through a small door.  IRENE
     hesitantly approaches, carrying a slim electronic tablet.

                           IRENE
              Excuse me, Jerome.  I'm sorry to bother you.

     Jerome turns, not displeased by the interruption.

                           JEROME
              No bother.

                           IRENE
                      (referring to her notepad)
              I've been asked to compile a log for the
              investigators--they want to know everyone's
              whereabouts last night.

                           JEROME
              Last night?  I was at home.

     Irene makes a note with her stylus.

                           IRENE
              Can that be, er, verified?  Were you alone?

                           JEROME
              No it can't be verified.  Yes I was alone.

     Irene makes another note.

                           JEROME
                      (wry smile)
              Looks bad, doesn't it, Irene?  What about
              you?  Where were you last night?

                           IRENE
              I was at home.

                           JEROME
              Were you alone?

                           IRENE
                      (hesitant)
              Yes.

                           JEROME
                      (teasing)
              So we don't know for sure about you, either.

                           IRENE
                      (wary, wondering where the
                      conversation is headed)
              No.

                           JEROME
              Why don't we say we were together?

                           IRENE
                      (confused)
              Why would we do that?

                           JEROME
              I have better things to do this week than
              answer the foolish questions of some flatfoot.
              Don't you?

     Irene contemplates the question.

                           JEROME
                      (gently pressing)
              Well, shall we say we spent the evening together?

     Irene is still unsure whether or not Jerome is serious.

                           IRENE
              To be convincing, Jerome, I would have to know
              what that was like.

     Irene turns and departs.  Jerome watches her go.


     INT.  EUGENE'S CONDOMINIUM.  NIGHT.

     The paraplegic EUGENE, seated by the window, meticulously cuts
     a long fingernail into numerous clippings.  He places the
     clippings in small plastic bags and seals them.  He then begins
     to fill tiny sachets with blood.  He turns as he hears JEROME
     enter down the spiral staircase with the groceries.

                           EUGENE
              You didn't forget the truffles?

     JEROME places the items in the refrigerator in the bathroom and
     retrieves a bottle of vodka - the vodka incongruous-looking
     beside the blood and urine specimens.  Joining Eugene at his
     workbench, he pours them both a drink.

                           EUGENE
                      (sensing something amiss, trying
                      to keep his humor)
              Who died?

                           JEROME
              The Mission Director.

                           EUGENE
                      (misinterpreting the deadpan remark)
              You wish.

                           JEROME
              They found him in his office this morning--
              beaten so bad they had to check his nametag.

     Eugene takes in the news, a smile broadening across his face.

                           EUGENE
              What an act of benevolence--a service to the
              community.  So that's it.  Now there's nothing
              between you and ignition.

                           JEROME
              He was still warm when they confirmed.

                           EUGENE
                      (confused by Jerome's attitude)
              This calls for a celebration.  Doesn't it?

                           JEROME
              The place is crawling with Hoovers.

                           EUGENE
              So what?  You didn't kill him, did you?

     Jerome shoots him a glance for the inappropriate remark.

                           JEROME
              That's not the point.

                           EUGENE
                      (scoffing)
              Hey, how much of you can be there?  Even if the
              "J. Edgars" do find something, in a week--
                      (glancing up to the night sky)
              you'll be slightly out of their jurisdiction.
                      (gently chiding)
              Come on, we've got to get drunk immediately.

                           JEROME
                      (still tempering Eugene's enthusiasm)
              You're going to have to earn your supper.  I've got
              my final physical tomorrow.

     Jerome wheels Eugene's chair to a specially constructed platform
     that allows the wheels to spin in mid-air.  Jerome tapes an
     electrode to Eugene's chest and attaches the wire to a slim
     recording device.  Eugene begins to spin the wheel of the chair
     faster and faster.  Jerome monitors Eugene's steady heartbeat
     through a set of headphones.


     INT.  GATTACA AEROSPACE CORPORATION - COMPUTER COMPLEX.  NIGHT.

     The complex is virtually empty - only a handful of the hundreds
     of PROGRAMMERS working late into the night.  IRENE approaches
     JEROME's work station on the pretext of delivering some
     documents.  Trying to act casually, she looks under the papers
     on his desk, then opens the top desk drawer.

     We see an EXTREME CLOSE UP of the comb lying there - the two
     hairs trapped between the teeth of the comb.  Irene removes one
     of the follicles and drops it into an envelope she is carrying.


     INT.  24-HOUR SEQUENCING LAB.  NIGHT.

     "SEQUENCING-WHILE-U-WAIT".  Similar to a 1-hour photo lab, the
     store - little more than a booth - displays a price list on the
     wall.  "FULL SEQUENCE - $80".  IRENE waits in line with a cross-
     section of other CUSTOMERS.  She checks the contents of the
     envelope that contains the hair.

     The YOUNG WOMAN in line ahead of her allows the TECHNICIAN to
     take a swab from her full lips with a Q-tip.

                           TECHNICIAN
              How old?

                           YOUNG WOMAN
                      (confused)
              Me?

                           TECHNICIAN
                      (mustering patience, referring
                      to the Q-tip)
              The specimen.

                           YOUUNG WOMAN
                      (proudly)
              I kissed him five minutes ago.  A real good one.

     Overhearing, several PEOPLE in the line snicker.

                           TECHNICIAN
                      (long-suffering)
              I'll see what I can do.

     The technician hands the swab to an ASSISTANT.  The Young Woman
     is handed a number and takes a seat.  Irene hands her envelope
     over the counter.  She too is handed a number.  We follow
     Jerome's follicle as another TECHNICIAN places it in an
     analyzing machine.


     INT/EXT.  SEQUENCING LAB / PARKING LOT.  NIGHT.

     The TECHNICIAN returns the envelope to IRENE along with a
     miniature compact disc.

                           TECHNICIAN
                      (remarking on the profile result)
              9.4...very nice.

     Irene does not appear to share the technician's enthusiasm.
     She emerges from the sequencing lab and enters her car.  Taking
     a palm-top computer from her purse, she inserts the disc into
     the computer.  Jerome's counterfeit genetic profile appears on
     the screen.  The details confirm her worst fears.


     EXT.  MICHAEL'S DINNER CLUB.  NIGHT.

     JEROME and EUGENE, dressed to the nines, pull up in the car
     to a darkened doorway in a poorly lit street.  A VALET appears
     out of the shadows.  Familiar with the car, he goes immediately
     to the trunk to retrieve Eugene's collapsible wheelchair.
     Jerome tips the valet - a credit card wiped through a device.


     INT.  MICHAEL'S DINNER CLUB.  NIGHT.

     The chic, elegant establishment inside belies its darkened
     exterior.  JEROME wheels EUGENE into a decadent dinner club
     full of an odd assortment of people.  They are immediately
     greeted respectfully by MICHAEL, the owner and maitre d'.
     Jerome and Eugene are obviously regulars.

                           MICHAEL
              Good evening, gentlemen.  Your table is ready.
                      (referring to Jerome's mission)
              Not long now, sir.  You'll be upstairs
              before you know it.  We're going to miss you.

                           JEROME
              Not as much as I'll miss your Stroganoff.
              I'd like to take one of your chefs with me.


     INT.  MICHAEL'S DINNER CLUB.  NIGHT.

     In a secluded booth JEROME and EUGENE toast from a bottle of
     1999 vintage Bordeaux.  Eugene drinks longer than Jerome.
     Jerome dabs his mouth with a napkin.  He fails to notice a
     minute FLAKE OF SKIN dislodged from his chin.  We follow the
     flake as it comes to rest beneath the table.

     LATER, Eugene and Jerome watch COUPLES dancing a samba on the
     dance floor.  A WAITER vacuums the table with a discreet,
     handheld miniature vacuum while a WAITRESS clears the plates.
     She accidentally drops a knife onto Eugene's leg.

                           WAITRESS
                      (aghast at the sight of his lifeless legs)
              I'm so sorry.  Did I hurt you?

                           EUGENE
                      (smiling, a trace of bitterness)
              Honey, if you'd hurt me, I'd be cured.

     Eugene, the worse for drink, gropes for the waitress's leg but
     she easily avoids his clumsy pass.

                           EUGENE
              You want to meet a real-life spaceman?

     Jerome, always aware, scanning the club, suddenly spies
     NAPOLEON, his Gattaca colleague, on the other side of the
     room.  Napoleon is taking a hit from a vial concealed in his
     hand.  Jerome abruptly turns his back to avoid being recognized.

                           JEROME
              Let's get out of here.

                           EUGENE
                      (knocking back his drink,
                      misinterpreting the hasty departure)
              You're right, there's more atmosphere
              where you're going.


     INT/EXT.  CAR.  NIGHT.

     Driving along the freeway, Jerome's car suddenly dives down an
     escape road.  EUGENE looks sideways at JEROME.

                           JEROME
              You drive.


     INT/EXT.  CAR.  NIGHT.

     The car careens around and around a small circular building -
     a cloud of dust billowing up behind the car.  We focus on a
     BRICK wedged against the car's gas pedal.

     EUGENE is at the wheel, JEROME in the passenger seat.

     The hard turn is repeated with increasing recklessness, Eugene
     fighting to control the bucking car.

                           EUGENE
                      (screaming in both fear and exhilaration)
              I gotta stop!!  I gotta stop!!

                           JEROME
              Keep going!!  Keep going!!

     Finally the car spins to a halt in a cloud of dust.  When the
     dust settles it is revealed that they have been circling the
     base of a huge satellite dish in a desolate location.


     EXT.  SATELLITE DISH.  NIGHT.

     EUGENE lies on the hood of the car, leaning against the
     windshield, drinking from a bottle of vodka.  In the
     background, the unmanned satellite dish.  JEROME relieves
     himself against the building at the base of the satellite.

                           EUGENE
                      (gently chiding Jerome over the joyride)
              You idiot.  You could ruin everything
              with a stunt like that.

     Eugene spies a spacecraft launching from Gattaca city.

                           EUGENE
                      (gazing up into the night sky)
              At least up there your piss will be worth something.
                      (smiling at the thought)
              You'll all be showering in it, right?

                           JEROME
                      (zipping his fly)
              And drinking it.  It's like Evian by the
              time it's filtered.

                           EUGENE
                      (referring to the rocket ship)
              What is that one?

     Jerome doesn't bother to look in the direction of the craft but
     merely glances to his watch.  He joins Eugene on the hood of the
     car.

                           JEROME
                      (looking at his watch)
              11.15 to the port.  A maintenance crew.

                           EUGENE
              How long do you stay up there before you go?

                           JEROME
              A day or so.

                           EUGENE
                      (beaming)
              I still can't believe they're sending you to
              the Belt--you of all people--never meant to be
              born, on a mission to discover the origin
              of life.

     Eugene laughs to himself and passes the bottle to Jerome.

                           JEROME
              You should be going instead of me.

     Jerome taps Eugene's lifeless legs with his foot.

                           JEROME
              Up there they wouldn't be a problem.

                           EUGENE
                      (glancing heavenwards, shaking his head)
              You know I'm scared of heights.


     INT.  CRIME LABORATORY - AUTOPSY ROOM.  NIGHT.

     The body and clothing of the MISSION DIRECTOR, lying on a metal
     examining table is scanned with a blue-light magnifying
     instrument.  Fingernail specimens are taken for analysis.  In
     another area of the laboratory, the labelled vacuum bags are
     attached to analyzers and the contents sucked out and
     automatically identified.  ID names and photographs of GATTACA
     EMPLOYEES begin appearing on a computer screen at high speed
     along with other personal details - all data automatically
     logged for later review.

     The photographs and personal details of JEROME and IRENE flash
     past, amongst the faces of other employees.

     We focus on a magnified close up of JEROME'S EYELASH, still
     clinging stubbornly to the side of its specimen bag.  We
     continue to follow its journey as it is finally sucked into the
     analyzer.


     INT.  CRIME LAB - ANALYZER MACHINE.  NIGHT.

     Inside the machine, a minute, cell-thin sliver is sliced from
     JEROME'S EYELASH and analyzed.


     INT.  INVESTIGATOR'S CRIME LAB.  NIGHT.

     A severed HUMAN TONGUE sits on a tray in a sterile, sealed
     chamber.  Using gloves that protrude through the chamber's glass
     wall, face buried in a binocular eyepiece, the INVESTIGATOR
     takes a swab from the tongue.

                           INVESTIGATOR
                      (to the tongue, as he inserts the
                      tip of the swab into an analyzer)
              Let's see what you've got to say for yourself.

     A FEMALE ASSISTANT, looking on, hardly has time to smile at the
     remark before information begins to appear on a nearby computer
     terminal.  The computer gradually builds a portrait of the owner
     of the tongue using genetic predictors.  The Investigator
     wanders over to the window as his Assistant reads the
     information from the screen.

                           ASSISTANT
              The tongue is male.  Mature.  Blonse hair.
              Brown eyes.  Light complexion.  Between
              5'11 and 6'1.  Pronounced Caucasian nose.
              Thin lips.  Weak chin.  Lobeless ears.
              Prematurely balding.  Slightly bow-legged.
              Broad shoulders.  Barrel chest...
                      (pause)
              Blind.

                           INVESTIGATOR
                      (interest piqued)
              Blind?
                      (mildly amused, checking the
                      monitor for himself)
              The tongue is blind?

                           ASSISTANT
                      (confused)
              Who cuts out the tongue of a blind man?

                           INVESTIGATOR
                      (shrugs)
              Someone who is mindful that the blind
              still speak.

     The INVESTIGATOR is alerted by the chime of his nearby computer.
     On the screen, he discovers the face of 20-YEAR-OLD VINCENT
     and the accompanying flashing message: TRACKING IN-VALID
     883000181105-10  - NEW DATA -


     INT.  CONDOMINIUM COMPLEX - PARKING GARAGE.  NIGHT.

     Having plugged his car into an overnight charger, JEROME pushes
     EUGENE in his wheelchair to the elevator.  Bottle in hand,
     Eugene leans over and vomits on the ground.  Jerome shakes his
     head resignedly.  Eugene looks drunkenly up at Jerome.

                           EUGENE
                      (sarcastically referring to the pool of vomit)
              I'm sorry.  Did you want it?

     Jerome meets Eugene's gaze.  There is a trace of bitterness
     in Eugene's drunken smile.

                           EUGENE
              Let me get it for you.

     Eugene bends down to scoop up some vomit with his hand but the
     elevator arrives and Jerome quickly wheels him away.  Eugene's
     head flops to the side as he passes out.


     INT.  EUGENE'S CONDOMINIUM.  NIGHT.

     JEROME unlocks EUGENE's condo and wheels his chair inside.  We
     see their reflection in a full-length mirror as Jerome pushes
     Eugene to the bedroom.  After removing Eugene's soiled clothing,
     he heaves the tall man from the chair and onto the bed.

                           EUGENE
                      (maudlin, sobbing like a child)
              I'm sorry.  I'm sorry.

                           JEROME
                      (attempting to comfort)
              It's okay, Eugene.

                           EUGENE
              You know I wasn't drunk--I knew what I was
              doing when I walked in front of that car--

                           JEROME
              --What car?--Go to sleep.

                           EUGENE
              --I walked right in front of it.  I was never
              more sober in my life.

     Jerome looks at Eugene's lifeless legs, trying to cover his
     shock at the revelation.

                           JEROME
              It's all right.

                           EUGENE
                      (grabbing Jerome by the collar)
              I'm proud of you, Vincent.

     Eugene's head falls back onto the pillow.

                           JEROME
                      (smiling to himself)
              You must be drunk to call me Vincent.

     But Eugene does not reply, drifting into sleep once again.
     Jerome pulls a blanket over him.

     On the verge of leaving, Jerome's attention is drawn to a wall
     on the far side of the room.  Approaching the wall, near
     Eugene's mirrored closet, he detects a faint mechanical whir
     coming from inside the adjacent condominium.  Jerome
     contemplates investigating but exits the condominium instead
     - climbing the spiral staircase to his own condominium.


     INT.  JEROME'S CONDO - LIVING ROOM.  NIGHT.

     JEROME fastidiously vacuums with an upright cleaner.  Using a
     hose attachment he cleans around a picture frame that contains
     Jerome's original computer keyboard handdrawn on the flap of a
     cardboard box.


     INT. GATTACA - COMPUTER COMPLEX.  DAY.

     In the vast room of COMPUTER PROGRAMMERS we pull-focus to
     discover that we have been filming the complex through the
     transparent specimen bag containing JEROME'S EYELASH.

     On the mezzanine floor overlooking the scene of the crime,
     the INVESTIGATOR holds the bag, transfixed by the lash.  The
     lead homicide detective, DETECTIVE HUGO, finishes interviewing
     a GATTACA SECURITY GUARD and approaches the Investigator.
     A large telescope in the background.

     Although Hugo is deferential to his more youthful superior, his
     body language betrays his displeasure.  Hugo clearly does not
     relish the Investigator's involvement in his case.

                           DETECTIVE HUGO
              I don't understand why you were dragged out
              here, Sir.  It's hardly worth wasting your
              time--a no-nothing case like this.

                           INVESTIGATOR
                      (gently rebuking his subordinate)
              A man's dead, Detective.

                           DETECTIVE HUGO
              Of course, Sir.  We're checking the entry log,
              alibis, grudges...

                           INVESTIGATOR
              Grudges?

                           DETECTIVE HUGO
                      (looking out over the balcony)
              I look around, I see a lot of dry eyes.
              The Director was not...
                      (searching for the words)
              ...universally loved.  He was leading the
              cut-backs in the program.  You're looking at
              a room full of motives.

                           INVESTIGATOR
                      (shaking his head adamantly,
                      referring to the bag in his hand)
              No, this is your man.

                           DETECTIVE HUGO
                      (not so convinced)
              With respect, Sir--it may be the only
              unaccountable specimen but the profile
              suggests--

                           INVESTIGATOR
              --What about his profile?

     Hugo refers to a print-out of 20-YEAR-OLD VINCENT's profile
     including his Genetic Quotient.  (The fifteen-year-old photo of
     Vincent now bears little resemblance to his assumed identity.)

                           DETECTIVE HUGO
              According to this, he's a sick man.  Congenital
              heart condition.  Who knows how long the specimen
              has been here but there's an 80 percent chance
              the owner of that eyelash has already died
              himself from natural causes.

                           INVESTIGATOR
                      (terse)
              So there's a 20 percent chance he's not dead.

     Detective Hugo goes to comment further, then revises his
     remark in his head before speaking.

                           DETECTIVE HUGO
              Even if this Vincent Luca is alive, is it
              likely he could bludgeon a man to death?

                           INVESTIGATOR
              No.  Not likely.

     The Investigator's tone suggests that the identity of the
     culprit is no longer a matter for debate.  There is an awkward
     pause before the Detective falls into step with his superior.

                           DETECTIVE HUGO
              I take it you're thinking along the lines of a
              robbery gone sour--a thief disturbed in the act?

     The Investigator merely shrugs.

                           DETECTIVE HUGO
                      (skeptical)
              Of course that doesn't jibe with what we
              found.  This was an angry killing.

                           INVESTIGATOR
                      (glancing to the profile in Hugo's hand)
              Who knows with these "deficients"?  His profile
              indicates a proclivity for violence.

                           DETECTIVE HUGO
                      (trying to appear co-operative)
              I'll run a crossover on the eyelash for
              any family or associate connections--

                           INVESTIGATOR
              --I've already run it.  There's no record
              of any living relative.

                           DETECTIVE HUGO
              What a pity.

                           INVESTIGATOR
                      (irritated, glancing to the sample bag)
              Detective Hugo, it's a simple case of lost and
              found.  All we have to do is locate the man who's
              minus an eyelash and this murder will solve itself.

     We focus on JEROME at his work station.  Although he continues
     to work, he clrarly feels the presence of the INVESTIGATORS on
     the mezzanine floor behind him.

     A MEDICAL DIRECTOR approaches the programmer in the neighboring
     work station - NAPOLEON, the programmer Jerome encountered in
     the nightclub the previous evening.

                           MEDICAL DIRECTOR
              Napoleon, you're late for your substance test.

     Napoleon looks up, ashen-faced.  Jerome intervenes.

                           JEROME
              Director, Napoleon's helping me today.

     The Director regards both men suspiciously.

                           MEDICAL DIRECTOR
              Well, you take it for him, Jerome.

     The Medical Director departs.  Napoleon, stunned by the
     reprieve, approaches Jerome's work station and pretends to
     study the program on his computer screen.

                           NAPOLEON
              Why did you do that?

                           JEROME
                      (exiting to the testing lab)
              Don't worry about it.


     INT.  GATTACA - TESTING LAB.  DAY.

     From behind we observe JEROME standing in front of LAMAR,
     issuing forth his steady stream of fraudulent urine.


     EXT.  GATTACA AEROSPACE CORPORATION - WORKOUT CENTER.  DAY.

     Twenty GATTACA EMPLOYEES, identically-outfitted men and women,
     run in a perfectly straight line towards the tranquil lake of
     the picturesque grounds, never getting any closer to their goal.
     They run at a steady 10mph on twenty identical state-of-the-art
     treadmill machines sunken into the floor and arranged in a
     uniform row facing a floor to ceiling window.  The strain is
     beginning to show on many of the faces.  The heartrate of each
     employee is monitored via a wireless electrode attached to the
     chest.

     Outside in the sunshine the next batch of twenty EMPLOYEES
     limbers up in readiness for their physical.  JEROME's only
     preparation consists of thoughtfully dragging on a
     cigarette while staring out at the man-made lake.  His
     nonchalant attitude disheartens nearby colleagues, including
     IRENE who is amongst a group of workers excused from the run
     by benevolent, over-protective TRAINERS.

                           TRAINER
              You're excused, Irene.  You may resume your duties.

     On the way into the work-out facility Jerome stubs out his
     cigarette in a stainless steel ashtray.  Only we are aware of
     the slim credit card-sized recording device that he furtively
     slips out of his cigarette pack and secrets in his hand.  As he
     takes his place on one of the treadmills and adheres the
     cordless electrode to his chest, Jerome surreptitiously attaches
     his device to the underside of the running machine's control
     panel.


     INT.  GATTACA - WORK-OUT OBSERVATION ROOM.  DAY.

     From a mezzanine floor above the work-out room, LAMAR, the
     medical officer, monitors computer read-outs displaying the
     pace and pulse of the runners on each treadmill machine.


     INT. GATTACA - WORK-OUT CENTER.  DAY.

     One by one the GATTACA EMPLOYEES drop out until JEROME is the
     sole remaining runner.  Several of the other employees stand
     around and watch Jerome run as they towel off.

     He appears under little duress, staring directly ahead,
     seemingly in a trance.  As we focus on his chest, only we are
     aware of the sound of his furiously pounding heart making a lie
     of his calm exterior.


     INT.  GATTACA - WORK-OUT OBSERVATION ROOM.  DAY.

     Jerome's heart registers a far more measured beat on the
     computer in the observation room.  The DIRECTOR is at LAMAR's
     shoulder, beaming proudly.

                           LAMAR
                      (marveling at Jerome's heartrate)
              Six miles later it's still beating like a
              Goddamn metronome.  I could play piano by that
              heartbeat of his.

     The INVESTIGATOR and DETECTIVE HUGO enter the observation room,
     escorted by IRENE.

                           DETECTIVE HUGO
              Director Josef, this is our lead Investigator.

     The two men exchange a polite handshake.  However the
     Investigator is immediately taken with the SOLE RUNNER with his
     back to him, on the treadmill below.

                           INVESTIGATOR
              How often do you test, Director?

                           DIRECTOR JOSEF
              Often.

                           INVESTIGATOR
                      (intrigued)
              Surely you know what you have.

                           DIRECTOR JOSEF
              We have to be certain.  Once they're up, we
              can hardly turn the boat around.

     On the treadmill below, Jerome glances to his watch as he runs,
     the distress starting to show.  Caught up in the conversation,
     Lamar has forgotten to end the work-out.  Remembering, he
     finally presses the "WARM-DOWN" button, slowing the treadmill.

                           LAMAR
                      (still marveling at Jerome)
              I swear if I went to lunch and came back, he'd
              still be there.

     We focus on Jerome's recording device attached to the bottom of
     the control panel.  It clicks to a stop, indicating that the
     bogus heartbeat recording has ended before the workout.

     The heartbeat monitor in the observation room suddenly races
     from 80 to 250 beats per minute.  Lamar catches the discrepancy
     out of the corner of his eye but before he can take a second
     look, Jerome has whipped his electrode from his chest.  The
     physician shrugs it off as a glitch in the machine.

     The Investigator has turned his back on Jerome to face the
     Director.

                           INVESTIGATOR
              We believe we have a suspect.

                           DIRECTOR JOSEF
              What a relief.

                           INVESTIGATOR
                      (referring to the profile of VINCENT
                      on Hugo's computer notepad)
              This unaccountable specimen was found in
              the south wing corridor.

     In the room below, Jerome nonchalantly steps off the treadmill,
     stealthily retrieves the recording device from beneath the
     control panel and returns it to his cigarette pack.

     He casually wipes off drops of sweat from the machine with a
     towel, briefly glances to Irene with the Investigators and exits
     to the locker room.

     The Director idly regards the image of VINCENT on Hugo's
     handheld screen.  He does not recognize the face.

                           DETECTIVE HUGO
              An age enhancement is being prepared as
              we speak.

                           DIRECTOR JOSEF
                      (referring to his assistant)
              Irene will make it available to security.


     INT.  GATTACA - LOCKER ROOM.  DAY.

     JEROME wears his assured smile all the way along the corridor
     and into the now empty locker room.  He exchanges a cheery
     greeting with an exiting COLLEAGUE, enters a shower stall,
     closes the door behind him and promptly collapses on the shower
     stall floor.

     The effects of the gruelling work-out are only now apparent.  No
     longer sucking up the pain, he gulps air into his oxygen-starved
     lungs, his heart looking for a way through his tightened chest.
     He writhes in agony on the white-tiled floor - a brutal reminder
     of the physical frailty he seeks to disguise.


     EXT.  GATTACA - GARDEN.  LUNCHTIME.

     In Gattaca's perfectly landscaped gardens JEROME, dressed and
     recovered from his ordeal, joins his COLLEAGUES for lunch at one
     of the umbrella-covered tables.  While most of the others pick
     at unappetizing salads and take their individualized medication,
     Jerome carries a steak sandwich on his tray.

     The sight of the juicy steak is greeted with envious looks from
     his colleagues.  Jerome pretends not to notice and rubs it in by
     liberally sprinkling salt onto the meat.

     However when Jerome looks over towards IRENE, she avoids eye
     contact.  When she abruptly gets up and leaves, Jerome follows -
     thinking twice before depositing the napkin in the nearby
     trashcan.  A janitor reaches for the napkin.  It is the Old
     Janitor, CAESAR, from Jerome's former life.

                           CAESAR
              I'll take care of that for you, Mr Morrow.

     The two men exchange a conspiratorial smile.


     EXT.  GATTACA - WIND FARM.  AFTERNOON.

     A forest of wind turbines, supplying energy to the aerospace
     complex.  However the blades of the turbines are motionless in
     the still afternoon.  JEROME finally catches up with IRENE.  She
     turns, unsurprised by his appearance.  Standing beside her, he
     looks out over the complex as if he too has come for the view.

                           JEROME
                      (eyes fixed on the view)
              We were looking at each other.  You stopped.

     Irene, also keeps her gaze ahead.

                           IRENE
              I'm sorry.  I didn't mean anything.

                           JEROME
                      (shrugging as if it makes
                      no difference to him)
              We were just looking.

                           IRENE
              I know about you.

     Jerome turns to her, startled, trying to read her face.  Irene
     takes a deep breath and abruptly plucks a long, dark hair from
     her head.

                           IRENE
                      (offering the hair to Jerome)
              Here, take it.

     Jerome, confused, takes the hair - more in reflex than intent.

                           IRENE
                      (a challenge)
              If you're still interested, let me know.

     Jerome contemplates the hair in his fingers for a moment, then
     deliberately lets it fall to the grounf.

                           JEROME
                      (never taking his eyes from her)
              Sorry, the wind caught it.

     Irene meets his gaze.  There is not a breath of wind.  The
     hair lies, plainly visible on the ground.


     EXT.  GATTACA AEROSPACE COMPLEX.  AFTERNOON.

     As JEROME and IRENE walk between the wind turbines, Jerome
     pretends not to notice that Irene keeps furtively checking the
     pulse on her wrist.  They pause in the shade.

                           JEROME
                      (as if making conversation)
              Have they found our friend?

                           IRENE
              Friend?

                           JEROME
                      (shrugs)
              It was a mercy-killing after all.

                           IRENE
              They found an eyelash.

                           JEROME
              Where?

                           IRENE
              In the South Wing.

                           JEROME
              Does it have a name?

                           IRENE
              Just some In-Valid.  Vincent--
                      (trying to come up with the last name)
              --somebody.

     Jerome turns away to disguise his alarm.  He quickly recovers.

                           JEROME
              Perhaps we ought to celebrate, Irene.

                           IRENE
                      (a smile playing around her lips)
              You celebrate, Jerome?


     INT.  EUGENE'S CONDO.  NIGHT.

     EUGENE talks irritably on the phone, examining a container from
     a newly opened case of hair bleach.

                           EUGENE
                      (into phone)
              --I know what I ordered.  I ordered "Honey
              Dawn" and you sent me "Summer Wheat".

     JEROME descends the staircase, taking the steps two at a time.
     He immediately goes to the refrigerator, removing trays of
     samples.  Eugene abruptly hangs up the phone.

                           JEROME (OC)
              Call German.

                           EUGENE
              Any particular reason?

                           JEROME
                      (collecting up sample bags from
                      the work bench)
              We can't stay here.

                           EUGENE
              What are you talking about?

                           JEROME
              They think I offed the Director.

     Eugene wheels himself over to Jerome, unconcerned.

                           EUGENE
              What makes them think that?

                           JEROME
              They found my eyelash.

                           EUGENE
                      (a flicker of anxiety)
              Where?

                           JEROME
              In a corridor.

                           EUGENE
                      (blasÈ once again)
              Could be worse.  They could have found
              it in your eye.

     Jerome half-smiles despite the situation.

                           JEROME
                      (resuming his collection of samples)
              Come on--we're taking off.

                           EUGENE
              I'm not going anywhere.  Less than a week to go.
              Not on your life--

                           JEROME
              --You don't understand, they'll make the
              connection, they'll hoover again.  We should
              cut our losses.

                           EUGENE
                      (angrily grabbing a tray from Jerome's hands)
              Where is your head, Jerome?  You're acting
              like a guilty man.  They won't marry the eyelash
              to you.  They won't believe that one of their
              elite navigators could have suckered them for the
              last five years.

                           JEROME
              They'll recognize me.

                           EUGENE
                      (scoffing)
              How could they recognize you?
                      (referring to the torn photo of
                      20-year-old Vincent on the wall)
              I don't recognize you.  Anyway, you don't have a
              choice.  You run, you may as well sign a confession,
              turn us both in right now.  No, we stick this out--
              find out what we can but change nothing.  This is
              a minor inconvenience is all it is.  We've taken
              worse heat than this.
                      (angry now)
              Jesus, if I'd known you were going to go
              belly up on me at the last fucking gasp, I
              wouldn't have bothered.  You can't quit on me
              now.  I've put too much into this.
                      (returning the samples to the fridge)
              Besides, this stuff is mine.  I had other offers,
              you know.  I could have rented myself out to
              somebody with a spine.  You want me to wheel in
              there and finish the job myself?
                      (meeting Jerome's gaze)
              We'll take off all right, from pad 18 just like
              we planned.

     Jerome slumps down in a chair, Eugene's tirade starting to get
     to him.

                           EUGENE
              And keep your lashes on your lids where
              they belong.  How could you be so careless?

                           JEROME
              I'm sorry.
                      (reluctant admission)
              I think I was crying.

     Eugene is uncomfortable at the notion.

                           EUGENE
              Well save those tears.

     Jerome shrugs awkwardly and pours them both a drink.

                           JEROME
              You really had other offers?

                           EUGENE
                      (shrugs)
              I'm sure I could have.


     INT. CONDOMINIUM - INCINERATOR.  NIGHT.

     The naked JEROME scrapes away at his skin with even greater
     ferocity than usual.  After exiting the incinerator, he deposits
     all the incriminating trash he has collected during the day into
     the furnace and ignites the gas.


     INT.  EUGENE'S CONDOMINIUM.  NIGHT.

     From outside, a car horn sounds.  JEROME, in a formal suit and
     spectacles, abruptly enters the condominium.  He goes to a
     closet and starts searching through Eugene's clothes.

                           JEROME
              Mind if I borrow a tie?

     EUGENE is more interested in the car parked outside the
     condominium.  IRENE sits in a convertible Citroen DS, dressed in
     a classic but provocative black suit.  Unaware that she is being
     observed she touches up her lipstick in the rearview mirror.

                           EUGENE
              So it's not just the Hoovers who've got
              you rattled.

                           JEROME
              You're the one who said not to change anything.
              She's my ear to the investigation.

                           EUGENE
                      (skeptical)
              Is that all?

                           JEROME
              I've got enough on my mind without that.

                           EUGENE
              If you say so.
                      (referring to the ties in Jerome's hand)
              The stripe.

                           JEROME
                      (agreeing with the selection)
              Good choice.

     Jerome fumbles with the knot.  From his chair, Eugene knots
     Jerome's tie for him.  Jerome is intrigued that for once Eugene
     is abstaining - he has not touched his drink.

                           JEROME
              Not thirsty?
                      (referring to the fridge)
              We've got enough virgin samples to last us the week.

                           EUGENE
              I don't feel too good.  I think I'm still
              drunk from last night.

                           JEROME
              Never stopped you before.
                      (regarding Eugene's head)
              And for God's sake stop plucking your hair.
              Someone went to a lot of trouble to make sure
              you wouldn't go bald.

                           EUGENE
              If I were you I'd worry about myself.
                      (nodding to Jerome's spectacles)
              Haven't you forgotten something?

     Jerome pockets the spectacles and enters the bathroom for his
     contact lenses.  The horn sounds outside the window a second
     time and Jerome hastily exits.  We stay with Eugene.  Irene
     catches a glimpse of him before he moves away from the window.
     Jerome emerges from the building.

     As the couple drive away, Eugene wheels himself to the full
     length mirror.  He regards his own reflection for a moment and
     opens the mirror - a disguised door opening into the adjacent
     apartment.  A cloud of condensed water vapor billows out.
     GERMAN, the DNA Broker, emerges with an ENGINEER.

     He sends the engineer on his way and joins Eugene at his desk.
     Eugene hands German a credit card that he wipes through his
     computer.

                           GERMAN
              We still need to overhaul the back-up generator.
                      (fixing Eugene with a penetrating stare)
              What's going on, Eugene, I thought he was going
              away, not you--you going on vacation?

                           EUGENE
                      (looking away)
              You got it, German.

                           GERMAN
                      (nodding thoughtfully)
              You deserve it.


     INT. CONCERT HALL - AUDITORIUM.  NIGHT.

     JEROME and IRENE step over feet, apologizing as they go,
     eventually finding their seats in a box in a sold-out concert
     hall.

     On the stage below, a YOUNG PIANIST - a teenage prodigy - has
     already taken his place at the keys of a grand piano.  The
     pianist removes his white gloves and begins to play - an
     extremely complex and beautiful piece we have never heard
     before.  IRENE looks to JEROME.  He is clearly caught up in the
     music.


     EXT.  IN-VALID HOUSING PROJECT.  NIGHT.

     The music from the piano recital continues under the following
     contrasting action.  A huge, brooding housing project.  PEOPLE
     hang around on street corners.  Menace in the air - a feeling of
     impending violence.

     Suddenly unmarked police cars appear from all directions,
     blocking any escape route.  Dozens of PLAINCLOTHES DETECTIVES
     pour out of the cars and onto the street.

     People scatter, many running straight into the arms of the
     Detectives.  OTHERS, spilling out of the housing project, are
     also immediately apprehended.

     The Detectives quickly weed out those suspects not fitting
     Jerome's description - WOMEN, OLD MEN and TEENAGERS.  They are
     shepherded off the street.  A line of IN-VALIDS is formed
     several hundred yards long.  Detectives begin to laboriously
     move along the line, taking finger-prick blood samples from each
     suspect - instantly confirming their identities with portable
     analyzers worn on their hips.

     As if having the idea at the same time, TWO SEPARATE MEN
     suddenly bolt from the line, knowing that their blood will
     incriminate them.  Other Detectives, watching for such escape
     attempts, esaily apprehend them and escort them to a waiting
     police van.

     With the raid under control, DETECTIVE HUGO indicates to the
     INVESTIGATOR that it is safe to exit his car.  The Investigator
     appears irritated, only half-glancing at the TWO MEN already in
     custody, apparently certain that neither one is his suspect.

                           DETECTIVE HUGO
                      (enthusiastic)
              Not our fish, but sometihng stuck in the net.

     The Investigator clearly does not share Hugo's enthusiasm.  The
     Detective offers the Investigator an age enhanced photograph,
     computer-generated from the last existing photo of VINCENT as
     a 20-year-old.

                           DETECTIVE HUGO
              This is the age enhancement we're working with.

     The Investigator ignores the photo, preferring instead to trust
     his own eye as he wanders along the line of suspects.

                           DETECTIVE HUGO
                      (referring to the line-up)
              As you requested, we've kept the parameters
              wider than usual.

     The MEN they scrutinize are hardly mutants - the differences
     between an IN-VALID and a DAN are subtle at best.  Some shorter,
     some wearing glasses, some with receding hairlines or bald, many
     with no discernable physical difference at all.  The
     Investigator is only halfway down the line before he turns and
     starts walking back to his car.

     The mystified Detective Hugo follows his superior.

                           INVESTIGATOR
              We're in the wrong place.  We're wasting time.

                           DETECTIVE HUGO
              This is the most likely location--

     The Investigator wheels on Hugo, suddenly angry, clearly unused
     to having his judgement questioned.

                           INVESTIGATOR
              --There's that word again.  I have a feeling
              This man doesn't play the odds, Detective.  Not
              exactly a slave to probability.  Is it "likely"
              that a man who has successfully eluded authorities for
              fifteen years--a brutal killer--is going to come
              to us now like a lamb?

                           DETECTIVE HUGO
                      (taken aback by the outburst)
              Is there something more we should know about this
              suspect, Sir?  I mean besides what's on his sheet.

                           INVESTIGATOR
              Since going underground, traces of this In-Valid
              have shown up at the scene of four serious
              felonies.  Do you need any more than that?

                           DETECTIVE HUGO
              With respect, Sir, many perfectly innocent
              citizens have left specimens at as many crime
              scenes.  Maybe he's just unlucky.

                           INVESTIGATOR
              I don't like anybody this unlucky.
                      (pause)
              Widen the sweep.  The West side.  Draw a five mile
              radius around Gattaca.  Hoover some of the classier
              establishments.  Random car stops.

                           DETECTIVE HUGO
              We're already getting complaints about
              frivolous search.

                           INVESTIGATOR
              This is a murder investigation.  The public
              should be happy to co-operate, to get this
              disease off the streets.


     INT.  CONCERT HALL.  NIGHT.

     A standing ovation.  The YOUNG PIANIST on the stage bows deeply,
     soaking up the applause of the AUDIENCE.  The pianist tosses one
     of his white gloves into the front row where it is caught by an
     adoring FAN.  The second glove he tosses up to the box where
     JEROME and IRENE are standing.  Jerome snares the glove out of
     the air and immediately hands it to Irene.  She promptly slips
     the glove on her own hand.

     The glove fits snugly over her five fingers.  However one finger
     of the glove remains unfilled.  Jerome is stunned to realize
     that it is a six-fingered glove.

                           IRENE
                      (catching his look of astonishment)
              You didn't know?

                           JEROME
                      (trying hard to convince)
              Yes...yes...

                           IRENE
                      (picking up a resentment, confused)
              You're angry--

                           JEROME
              Why would I be angry?  It was beautiful.

     He quickly turns away to lead the applause.  On stage, the
     pianist raises his hands to acknowledge the crowd.  Both his
     hands contain a perfectly formed extra finger.


     INT.  IN-VALID HOUSING PROJECT - PROSTITUTE'S BOUDOIR.  NIGHT.

     From an upstairs window we observe the INVESTIGATOR's car
     cruise slowly back into the squalid housing project.  A MAN is
     buckling his pants at the window.

                           JOHN
              Shit!  One of those Hoovers is back.

     A prostitute, VALERIE, a slender, sylphlike beauty, joins him at
     the window.

                           VALERIE
              It's alright.  He's here to see me.

     Her client looks at her askance.  Despite her assurances, he
     hurries into his clothes anyway.

                           VALERIE
                      (to an unseen woman in the next room)
              Sonja, I can't see anyone else tonight.


     INT.  IN-VALID HOUSING PROJECT - PROSTITUTE'S BOUDOIR.  NIGHT.

     The INVESTIGATOR, sits up in the bed, glass in his hand.
     VALERIE lies on the tangled sheets, naked, making no effort to
     cover herself.  She regards the Investigator curiously.

                           VALERIE
              I don't understand you, Investigator.

     The Investigator glances idly in her direction.

                           VALERIE
                      (teasing good-naturedly)
              You hunt us by day and fuck us by night.  Do
              you only get it up for In-valids?

     The Investigator smiles and rejoins her on the bed.

                           VALERIE
              Wouldn't you be happier with one of your
              made-to-order whores?

                           INVESTIGATOR
                      (gently stroking her hair)
              You are so beautiful, are you sure you weren't
              altered?  This is not the face, the body, of
              a Godchild.  How could something so lovely
              be a product of chance?

                           VALERIE
              Is that what keeps you coming back?
                      (meeting his gaze)
              Look at you.  Such angry, beautiful, perfect eyes.
              Do you ever wonder what they would see if they
              weren't quite so perfect?  They will never see
              what I see.

     The Investigator tries to laugh off her assertion but his
     tight-lipped smile betrays his displeasure.

                           INVESTIGATOR
                      (a cruel edge to his voice)
              You have so much wrong with you, you'll
              be lucky to see next year.

     He roughly forces himself on top of her but she remains defiant.

                           VALERIE
              Are you so much more alive, Investigator?

                           INVESTIGATOR
                      (parting her legs)
              I'm not paying you to talk.


     INT/EXT.  IRENE'S CAR.  NIGHT.

     IRENE drives, JEROME at her side.  Cars are being flagged down
     by uniformed POLICE OFFICERS.  Irene slows down behind the car
     in front.  Spying an OFFICER shine a flashlight in the eyes of
     the MALE DRIVER up ahead, Jerome wipes the contact lenses from
     his eyes and flicks them out of the passenger window when Irene
     is not looking.

     An OFFICER approaches Jerome and, without a word, opens an
     electronic testing kit worn on his hip.  He removes a sterilized
     Q-tip and motions for Jerome to open his mouth so he can scrape
     a culture.  Jerome waves his hand in front of his mouth,
     feigning embarrassment.

                           JEROME
                      (conspiratorial)
              Better not.
                      (nodding in Irene's direction)
              Don't want to give you a contaminated
              specimen...if you get my meaning.

     IRENE plays along, shrugging coyly at the cop.

     We see an EXTREME CLOSE UP of Jerome's hand as he furtively
     retrieves a hair follicle attached to his shirt cuff.  With the
     hair already in his fingers, he pretends to pluck a hair from
     his head, faking a wince at the appropriate moment.

     The cop, wearing transparent latex gloves, takes the follicle
     and places it in a receptacle in his kit.  After a short moment
     the hair confirms JEROME's driving ID which appears on the kit's
     electronic screen.  As the cop departs, Irene looks
     questioningly at Jerome.

                           JEROME
              Thanks.
                      (answering her unasked question)
              You never know where those swabs have been.

     Irene nods, however clearly not convinced.  She shakes the doubt
     from her mind.

                           IRENE
              I want to show you something.

     She accelerates away.  We see the road ahead from Jerome's POV.
     Without his contact lenses, it is a blur.


     INT.  MICHAEL'S CLUB.  NIGHT.

     After closing time, suited DETECTIVES vacuum the club in which
     Jerome and Eugene dined the previous evening.  MICHAEL, the
     owner, looks on disdainfully.  Waiting in the background, the
     regular CLEANERS - most likely In-valids themselves - smirk to
     each other, enjoying watching the cops do their work for them.


     EXT.  OCEAN HIGHWAY.  NIGHT.

     With no place to turn the car around, IRENE parks on the cliff
     side of the six-lane highway.  In the darkness she dashes from
     the car and, without a second thought, runs directly out into
     the heavy commuter traffic.  Easily negotiating the on-coming
     cars, she emerges safely on the other side of the highway.

     JEROME, rounding the car from the passenger side, is about to
     follow, when he suddenly pulls up sharply at the curb.  We focus
     on his eyes, deprived of the benefit of their contact lenses.
     From Jerome's POV, we see that the headlights rushing towards
     him are nothing but a series of fast-moving blurs - blurs that
     merge together.  He is unable to distinguish between the
     vehicles or judge their distance.

                           IRENE
                      (calling back urgently from the
                      other side, mindful of the light
                      beginning to leak into the sky)
              Come on!  We'll miss it!

     Irene stares expectantly back at Jerome with her 20/20 vision,
     unaware of his predicament.  Jerome puts a foot off the curb at
     the wrong moment and is almost collected by an on-coming car.
     Irene is taken-aback at his mistiming.  Does she detect a squint
     on Jerome's face?  To Jerome, the figure of Irene on the other
     side of the highway is merely a featureless shape but he feels
     her expectation.  He touches the spectacles, still in his
     pocket, but they are an unthinkable option.

     He shakes the idea from his head and turns back to the swiftly-
     flowing highway.  He makes up his mind - he cannot allow himself
     to be shamed, even at the risk of life and limb.  Hardly even
     glancing at the traffic, he suddenly bolts blindly across the
     road.  Headlights hurtling towards him, cars fortuitously
     brushing past his heels, horns blaring.  Jerome makes a final
     leap to the haven of the far curb, the rush of air from a large,
     fast-moving truck blowing him the final inches to the sidewalk.

     Irene is stunned by the near miss.  She is about to comment but
     Jerome takes her by the arm and ushers her towards the dunes.

                           JEROME
              Come on.  We'll miss it.


     EXT.  BEACH.  DAWN.

     JEROME and IRENE huddle beneath an overcoat as the sun crests
     the horizon, staining the sky with an ochre blush.

                           IRENE
              What did I tell you?

     Jerome nods.  However, to his eyes the rising yolk is nothing
     but an out-of-focus, abstract ink blot.

                           IRENE
              I envy you, Jerome.

                           JEROME
              You'll be next.

                           IRENE
              I don't think so.  The only trip I'll make
              in space is around the sun--
                      (letting a handful of sand
                      slip through her fingers)
              --on this satellite right here.

     Irene turns to Jerome.

                           IRENE
                      (blurting out what's really on her mind)
              --Listen, I don't want to waste your time
              and I really don't want you to waste mine.
              I don't know what you're after but I have
              a feeling I'm not it.

     Irene suddenly takes Jerome's hand and puts it up her
     sweater, onto her breast.  Although taken aback, Jerome makes
     no effort to withdraw his hand.

                           IRENE
                      (enjoying his unease)
              It's here.  My heart.
                      (adding quickly)
              I'm careful--weekly check-ups.  I'm on a
              drug maintenance program, blood thinners,
              diet--
                      (slowly removing his hand)
              I just want you to know what you'd be getting
              yourself into.

                           JEROME
              What exactly is wrong?

                           IRENE
              Nothing yet.  I'll start experiencing
              symptoms in my late-fifties.
                      (matter-of-fact)
              But unless they come up with something between
              now and then, I won't live much past 67.

     Jerome's mouth drops a little, betraying his surprise at the
     statement from a woman plainly still in her twenties.

                           IRENE
              Of course I think about it every day.

                           JEROME
                      (still not quite recovered from his surprise)
              Of course.


     INT.  POOL.  MORNING.

     The INVESTIGATOR swims his race with the unseen opponent.  The
     Investigator's ASSISTANT, carrying a phone, tries to attract his
     attention.


     EXT.  JEROME'S POOL.  MORNING.

     JEROME sits at his own poolside in his robe, feet dangling over
     the edge, smoking a cigarette.  EUGENE, from his wheelchair, is
     applying bleach to Jerome's hair and eyebrows with gloved
     hands.

     At the same time, Jerome plays a sleight-of-hand game with a
     syringe.

                           EUGENE
              How was your evening?

                           JEROME
              Complicated.  I couldn't stop her apologizing.

                           EUGENE
                      (teasing)
              You are a catch.  No doubt she's worried that
              she would lower the standard of your offspring.
              Everybody wants to "breed up".
                      (idly curious)
              What's wrong with her?

                           JEROME
                      (trying to be blasÈ)
              You know how it is with these altered births
              --somebody told her she's not going to live
              forever and she's been preparing to die ever
              since.

                           EUGENE
              You're not thinking of telling her, are you?

                           JEROME
              Of course not.  But she's have to know eventually.

                           EUGENE
                      (adamant)
              She doesn't have to know.  She doesn't want to know.

     The camera travels down Jerome's scarred legs to find that the
     pool is completely drained.  We now realize that it never
     contained water.


     A BARREN WASTELAND.

     A desolate landscape, resembling the surface of the planet Mars.
     We pull back to find that we are peering at this forbidding
     desert through a circular aperture.


     INT.  CRIME LAB.  DAY.

     The INVESTIGATOR lifts his head from the eyepiece of an
     electron microscope through which he has been examining a tiny
     fragment of skin - the skin is identified as belonging to 20-
     YEAR-OLD VINCENT.  DETECTIVE HUGO stands at the Investigator's
     side - his attitude more respectful in light of the discovery.

     Detective Hugo points out a location on a computer-generated
     map.

                           DETECTIVE HUGO
                      (chagrined)
              The skin flake was found in Michael's Restaurant.
              The employees are all accounted for.

                           INVESTIGATOR
              A customer?  Does this Michael's cater to misfits?

                           DETECTIVE HUGO
                      (shifting the view of the map
                      to include the Gattaca complex)
              No.  But one or two "borrowed ladders" have
              shown up there in the past.

     The Investigator understands the significance.  They wander over
     to a blow-up photograph of the 20-YEAR-OLD VINCENT.

                           DETECTIVE HUGO
              We have to consider the possibility that he's
              playing somebody else's hand.

     A smile gradually broadens across the Investigator's face.

                           INVESTIGATOR
                      (taking a perverse pleasure in the
                      slowly dawning revelation)
              Of course.  He's a "de-gene-erate".
                      (glancing to a photo of the
                      Gattaca crime scene)
              He works at Gattaca.  Why else would we find
              the eyelash near the washroom?  Nobody stops to
              take a leak during a murder.

                           DETECTIVE HUGO
                      (quickly covering himself)
              It's still possible the eyelash specimen came
              from a janitor, delivery man--it could have blown
              in through an open window.

     The Investigator appears not to be listening, his mind made up.

                           INVESTIGATOR
                      (mind racing)
              He was afraid of being exposed.  That's why he did it.

                           DETECTIVE HUGO
                      (puzzled)
              It is hard to believe he could be one of
              their elite workers.  You've seen their
              security system.  They know who works there.
                      (referring to 20-year-old Vincent's profile)
              Even if you ignore the man's expiration date,
              his profile suggests that he doesn't have the
              mathematical propensity let alone the stamina
              to pass their physicals.

                           INVESTIGATOR
              Don't underestimate these imposters.

                           DETECTIVE HUGO
                      (skeptical, referring to a file of
                      Gattaca employee ID photos)
              None of the ID photos match the enhancement.

                           INVESTIGATOR
                      (smiling to himself)
              A man can change his face--but blood is forever.
              Sample every employee within the parameters I gave you.
                      (pause)
              Intravenous.

     Hugo's mouth drops open at the mention of "intravenous".

                           DETECTIVE HUGO
                      (immediately protesting)
              You know their workforce.  Two-thirds at
              least fall into the category.  We'll be
              closing down their operation for days.
                      (seeking a compromise)
              At least go with a fingertip sample or urine.

                           INVESTIGATOR
                      (shaking his head)
              Blood.  From the vein.

     The Investigator turns on his heel to prevent further protest.
     The Detective and his ASSISTANTS exchange looks of exasperation
     behind the Investigator's back.


     INT.  GATTACA.  DAY.

     JEROME, drinking water, stands in front of a large video
     bulletin board.  Among other things, it displays the electronic
     mugshot of 20-YEAR-OLD VINCENT alongside the recent computer
     generated age enhancement of his face.

     Some distance away, CAESAR, the elderly janitor, discusses the
     mugshots with a YOUNGER JANITOR.

                           CAESAR
              Look like anybody to you?

                           YOUNGER JANITOR
              Not to me.

                           CAESAR
              Ugly sonofabitch though, isn't he?

     Jerome half-smiles, realizing that the conversation is for his
     benefit.  Having made it clear that they do not intend to expose
     their former colleague, the two janitors continue their rounds.

     Jerome crushes his paper cup.  Forgetting himself, he
     drops the cup into the wastebasket.


     INT.  CRAFT.  DAY.

     JEROME familiarizes himself with the interior of a spacecraft
     under the supervision of DIRECTOR JOSEF and the MISSION
     COMMANDER.  The screen that Jerome sits at is identical to the
     one he operates in the computer complex - displaying asteroid
     951 Gaspra.

                           DIRECTOR JOSEF
              --Somewhere in the dust of Gaspra is the key.
                      (warming to his theme)
              Back to the beginning of the book--the life we
              became.  With the original building blocks who
              knows how far we can take "the godding".

                           MISSION COMMANDER
                      (wry smile)
              Even someone as advanced as Jerome will be
              last year's model by the time we're done.

                           JEROME
                      (smiling back)
              I wouldn't get your hopes up, Commander.

     Irene enters the craft.

                           IRENE
              Excuse me, Mr Morrow.  The investigators have
              begun their testing.

                           DETECTIVE JOSEF
              This is so inconvenient, Irene.  They can
              make an exception for Jerome.

                           IRENE
              I'm afraid not.

                           DIRECTOR JOSEF
              I apologize, Jerome.

                           JEROME
              It's not yor fault, Director.
                      (afterthought)
              If your predecessor were still around
              we may not be going to Gaspra at all.
              That's what I would call inconvenient.

     Jerome exits the craft with Irene.


     INT.  GATTACA CORPORATION - CORRIDOR.  DAY.

     A line of MALE GATTACA EMPLOYEES snakes out the door and down
     the corridor.  The INVESTIGATOR walks slowly down the line,
     trying to eyeball his suspect.  Concentrating on the shorter,
     dark-haired men in the line, he looks straight past JEROME.
     However, as the Investigator ignores him and walks by, we see a
     haunted look in Jerome's eyes.


     INT.  GATTACA - TESTING LAB.  DAY.

     Every available TECHNICIAN is working to accommodate the testing
     of the thousand or so PROGRAMMERS.  Twelve testing stations
     operate simultaneously.  A HOMICIDE DETECTIVE supervises each
     station.  JEROME reaches the head of the line.  He notes an
     exiting COLLEAGUE holding a cotton ball to his arm.

     A NURSE directs Jerome to LAMAR's testing station.  Lamar
     deposits the previous patient's labeled vial into a blood
     carousel under the watchful eye of a large DETECTIVE, clearly
     not relishing his assignment.  Jerome rolls up his sleeve.

                           JEROME
                      (referring to the table lined with syringes)
              What's with the plungers, Lamar?  What are
              you doing, opening a blood bank?

     The syringes are clearly not Lamar's idea.

                           LAMAR
                      (sarcastic)
              The gentlemen of law enforcement are concerned that
              my testing methods may have been compromised.

     Lamar inserts a fresh syringe into Jerome's arm.  As Lamar draws
     the blood, Jerome suddenly flinches and flexes his arm
     violently, causing the needle to bend and buckle, exiting the
     skin from a second puncture point.

                           JEROME
              Damn!!

     Having pulled away from Lamar's grasp, Jerome withdraws the bent
     needle himself, blood still squirting from his vein.

                           LAMAR
                      (grabbing a nearby wad of gauze)
              Jesus--I'm sorry, Jerome.

     The large Homicide Detective winces and turns away from the red
     arcing spray, a splash of blood spattering his shoes.  In the
     midst of the commotion, with his practised sleight-of-hand,
     Jerome removes the vial from the syringe and replaces it with
     another concealed vial.

                           JEROME
                      (unfazed, putting Lamar at his ease)
              You must be out of practise, Lamar.

     Lamar hurriedly takes the syringe from Jerome.

                           LAMAR
                      (examining and removing the
                      switched vial from the bent syringe)
              I've got enough here.

                           JEROME
                      (regarding the squimish detective,
                      as he holds the gauze to his arm)
              Need any more, you can always get it off his shoes.

     The Detective notices the spatter of blood across his brogues
     and, with a look of disdain, wipes it clean.  He tosses the
     incriminating tissue down a hygenically sealed garbage shoot.

     Lamar places Jerome's labelled vial in the carousel where it is
     immediately analyzed by the computer.  Jerome's "legitimate"
     Employee ID code appears on the screen - "VALID".  Another
     EMPLOYEE enters the testing lab.


     INT.  GATTACA.  DAY.

     JEROME exits the testing lab with the gauze held to his arm.
     IRENE is standing outside the door.

                           IRENE
              So you didn't do it after all.

                           JEROME
                      (joking darkly)
              I guess somebody beat me to it.


     INT.  GATTACA - MEZZANINE FLOOR.  LATER IN THE DAY.

     From above, the INVESTIGATOR and HUGO observe the final EMPLOYEE
     exit the testing lab.

     LAMAR, following the employee out of the lab, throws a look of
     vindication to the two cops.

                           DETECTIVE HUGO
              That's the last.

                           INVESTIGATOR
              Something's not right.

                           DETECTIVE HUGO
                      (losing his patience)
              He's not here.  It's a blind alley.

                           INVESTIGATOR
                      (resolute)
              No, we've missed something.  We Hoover again.

                           DETECTIVE HUGO
              We don't have the manpower.

                           INVESTIGATOR
              Get it.  From outside, if you have to.

                           DETECTIVE HUGO
              From what budget?

                           INVESTIGATOR
                      (angered by Hugo's excuses)
              I'll take it out of your damn pension if
              you question my authority one more time!

     The INVESTIGATOR turns his back on his subordinate and idly
     contemplates the nearby telescope.  Hugo resignedly relays the
     news to Director Josef who is standing some distance away.
     Josef's immediate reaction is to march towards the Investigator,
     Hugo trailing behind.  DIRECTOR JOSEF collects himself as he
     notices the Investigator's hand on the telescope.

                           DIRECTOR JOSEF
              Would you care to look--in the telescope?

                           INVESTIGATOR
              Thank you, no.

                           DIRECTOR JOSEF
                      (still referring to the telescope)
              One look through there and you would know why
              I can't possibly allow you to disrupt operations
              any further.

                           INVESTIGATOR
                      (unfazed)
              You're so unconcerned that you have a killer
              in your midst.

                           DIRECTOR JOSEF
              Right now, your presence is creating more of
              a threat.  I don't think you have any concept
              of what we do here--how meticulous our
              preparations must be.  We are about to send
              twelve people through 140 million miles of
              blackness to rendezvous with an object the size
              of a house and the color of coal.  So it's rather
              critical to point them in the right direction.
              And we certainly don't need you looking over our
              shoulders.  Besides, I don't believe there is
              any evidence that the killer is amongst us.  I
              don't see too many other dead bodies littering
              the place.

                           INVESTIGATOR
                      (surveying the mostly empty facility)
              No, but since there aren't too many live ones
              tonight either, you won't mind us conducting one
              further sweep.  If he does not work here, then
              there should be no other trace of him.
                      (to Hugo)
              I think you'd better get some people out of bed,
              Detective.
                      (a thought occurs)
              In the meantime we can re-check his favorite
              haunt.

     Director Josef quietly seethes.

                           INVESTIGATOR
                      (to Josef, referring to the telescope)
              You see, Director, I prefer my microscope.


     INT.  EUGENE'S CONDOMINIUM.  DAY.

     JEROME readies himself for an evening out - a bandage around his
     arm from the needle puncture.  EUGENE wheels himself in.

                           EUGENE
              Where are we going?

                           JEROME
                      (slightly guilty)
              I'm sorry.  I've got plans.

                           EUGENE
                      (feigning hurt)
              Again?

                           JEROME
                      (referring to his bandage)
              She's already got her doubts.  I have to act
              like nothing's wrong.

                           EUGENE
              I'm sure you'll be very convincing.

     Jerome ignores the remark.

                           EUGENE
              Where are you taking her?

                           JEROME
              Michael's.

     Eugene looks at him askance.

                           JEROME
              Everybody goes there.

                           EUGENE
                      (incredulous, glancing around the room)
              You may as well invite her here.

                           JEROME
                      (afterthought as he picks up his jacket)
              Will you be okay?

                           EUGENE
              Don't worry about your little pin cushion.
              To be honest, I'm looking forward to having
              the place to myself.

                           JEROME
                      (seeing through the bravado)
              We'll still be able to talk when I'm away.
              The conversation will just keep getting longer.

                           EUGENE
              How long?

                           JEROME
              By the time I'm at the Belt, you phone and
              say, "How are you?"  Forty-five minutes
              later I reply, "Not bad.  How are you?"

                           EUGENE
              I guess I'd better have something important
              to say if it takes that long to get an answer.


     INT.  MICHAEL'S CLUB.  NIGHT.

     IRENE and JEROME step off the dance floor of the smoky, decadent
     dinner club and take a seat at their table.  Irene is agog at
     the strange assortment of PATRONS, the cigars, the laden dessert
     trolleys.  It is all slightly off from the pristine world she is
     accustomed to.

                           IRENE
              What is this place?

                           JEROME
                      (wry smile, enjoying her fascination)
              You've never been here?
                      (a dessert trolley is wheeled up)
              Let me order for you.

     Jerome selects a chocolate torte from the trolley.  Jerome
     savors a spoonful.  Irene is tempted but then remembers herself.

                           IRENE
              I'd better not.

     She reaches for her elegant pill box.  Jerome takes another
     spoonful.

                           JEROME
              So sure of what you can't do.  Do you even
              know what it tastes like, Irene?

     Irene goes to deny it but cannot.

     MICHAEL suddenly approaches the table with a WAITER in tow.
     Irene is about to steal a taste of the dessert with her finger
     when their plates and glasses are whisked away and the table
     immediately hoovered.  Michael whispers in Jerome's ear.

                           MICHAEL
              Take the side door.

     Jerome looks up in time to see DETECTIVE HUGO coming through the
     front entrance with several other DETECTIVES.

                           DETECTIVE
                      (to his colleagues)
              Check for lenses, hairpieces--

     A Detective shines a flashlight in the eyes of a MALE PATRON.
     A SECOND DETECTIVE tugs the hair of a SECOND PATRON.  Jerome
     takes Irene by the hand and escorts her out of the side exit.
     Several other COUPLES make for the parking lot.

                           IRENE
              Why are we leaving?

                           JEROME
                      (attempting to explain the hasty exit)
              Those checks take forever.


     EXT.  MICHAEL'S CLUB - SIDE ALLEY.  NIGHT.

     Spilling out of the exit, JEROME and IRENE find a burly
     plain clothes DETECTIVE barring their way.  Before the Detective
     can say a word, Jerome has wrapped his fist in his jacket sleeve
     and smashed him in the face.  He continues to beat the Detective
     until he lies motionless on the ground.

                           IRENE
                      (stunned)
              Jerome!

     Spying other Detectives some distance away in the parking lot.
     Jerome leads Irene out of a hidden side gate.

                           IRENE
              What about the car?

                           JEROME
                      (grabbing her by the hand)
              Let's walk.

                           IRENE
              Who are they?

                           JEROME
                      (holding his bruised knuckles)
              It's not safe.  I shouldn't have brought you here.

     Jerome drags Irene across a vast, desolate lot, lit only by
     moonlight.  Feeling exposed, he breaks into a run.

                           IRENE
              I can't.

                           JEROME
                      (anxious)
              Come on.

                           IRENE
              My medication.  I left it back there.

                           JEROME
              We'll get it later.
                      (forcing her to look him in the eye)
              Irene, please.

     Irene realizes his seriousness.  She begins to run with him.
     The clearing is wider than Jerome anticipated.  They are only
     halfway across - extremely vulnerable if the Detective think yo
     look in their direction.


     INT.  MICHAEL'S.  NIGHT.

     The INVESTIGATOR is grilling MICHAEL, the club's owner.  The
     investigator suspiciously regards the multitude of mini-vacs in
     the kitchen and the incinerator burning the refuse.

                           INVESTIGATOR
                      (an accusing tone)
              You run a clean establishment.

                           MICHAEL
              Are you a health inspector?

                           INVESTIGATOR
                      (showing Vincent's mugshot)
              Do you recognize this man?

                           MICHAEL
              My eyes aren't so good.

                           INVESTIGATOR
              I bet.

     Hugo calls out from the side door where he has discovered
     his fallen colleague.

                           HUGO
              Sir.

     The Investigator hurries to him.

                           INVESTIGATOR
                      (to the still dazed Detective,
                      examining his injuries)
              Did he hit you with his fist?

                           DETECTIVE
                      (head in his hands)
              More like a hammer.

                           INVESTIGATOR
                      (reprimanding the beaten Detective)
              Don't touch your face.  Don't swallow.
              Don't spit.
                      (to Hugo)
              Quick, clean his teeth.

     Hugo uses a flashlight and a small dental-like implement to try
     to pick skin from Jerome's knuckles from between the Detective's
     teeth.  The Investigator finds the hidden side door.


     EXT.  DESOLATE LOT.  NIGHT.

     JEROME and IRENE continue to sprint across the enormous vacant
     lot in the moonlight, splashing through deposits of mud and
     water.  Just as the gate opens in the distance, Jerome hurls
     Irene into the safety of the undergrowth on the other side.
     Irene, out of breath, desperately feels for her pulse.

                           IRENE
                      (upset, a strangled protest)
              Are you trying to kill me?  Are you?!
              Don't you understand, I can't do that!

     Jerome tenderly removes Irene's hand from her pulse.

                           JEROME
              You just did.

     Irene looks back across the vast clearing they have just
     negotiated, realizing what she has just done.

     From across the other side of the clearing comes an echoing
     cry from the center FIGURE.

                           INVESTIGATOR (OC)
              Vincent!  Vincent!


     EXT.  MICHAEL'S.  NIGHT.

     The INVESTIGATOR is about to cry out Vincent's name once again
     when he realizes DETECTIVE HUGO and the other DETECTIVES are
     watching him, askance.

                           INVESTIGATOR
                      (to Hugo, covering his frustration)
              What are you waiting for?

                           DETECTIVE HUGO
              Where do we start?

                           INVESTIGATOR
              We'll vacuum these streets if we have to.

                           DETECTIVE
                      (handing the Investigator Irene's pill box)
              We caught them trying to flush these, Sir.

     The Investigator carefully examines the heart pills.


     EXT.  IRENE'S APARTMENT.  NIGHT.

     JEROME walks IRENE to the steps of her apartment.  Jerome thinks
     about departing but Irene takes him gently by the hand.

                           IRENE
              So sure of what you can't do.

     Jerome follows her inside.


     INT.  IRENE'S BEDROOM.  NIGHT.

     JEROME and IRENE climb a staircase to her bedroom.  Without
     another word they begin to make love.

     LATER THAT NIGHT, JEROME cannot sleep.  He rises quietly so as
     not to disturb IRENE.  He silently opens the double-windows of
     the upstairs bedroom.  He carefully gathers his pillow from the
     bed and shakes it out of the window.

     Slowly Jerome turns to gaze at the wood floor.  In the moonlight
     we see an EXTREME CLOSE UP of a single hair lying on the
     floorboards.  Jerome bends and picks up the hair, trying to
     identify it in the dim light.  On his hands and knees he tries
     to clean the floor with a towel.  Irene turns over in the
     bed.  Jerome freezes but she continues to sleep.  He realizes he
     may be spreading even more of his skin and hair over the floor.
     Overcome with frustration and the enormity of his task, he
     begins to quietly weep.


     EXT.  A FIELD.  DAWN.

     A light shroud of mist hangs over the trees that encircle a
     grassy clearing beyond Irene's building.  Something lies in the
     center of the clearing.

     We jump-cut to an EXTREME CLOSE UP of two or three blades of
     grass.  Bristles rain down on the blades.  Withotu access to his
     incinerator, the crouched, naked figure of JEROME disposes of
     his whiskers, skin and hair in an open field.  His clothes sit
     in a neat pile at his side.  He pours glycolic acid over his
     body and scrubs at his back, feet and hands with a brush.  There
     is a haunted, tortured look in his eyes as he tries desperately
     to rid himself of himself.


     INT.  POOL.  MORNING.

     The INVESTIGATOR swims obsessively in his aquatic treadmill.


     INT.  IRENE'S APARTMENT.  LATER THAT MORNING.

     Back in the bedroom, JEROME, partially dressed, holds IRENE
     in bed.  She softly touches the scars on his shins.

                           IRENE
                      (referring to the shins)
              What happened?

                           JEROME
              You remember the '99 Chrysler LeBaron?
              It's the exact height of the front fender.
                      (shrugs)
              Looked right instead of left.

                           IRENE
                      (comforted by the thought)
              So you're not so smart after all.
                      (awkward about raising the subject)
              I want you to know--if it ever came to it--
              I'd be willing to get an ovum from the Egg
              Bank.  In fact, I'd rather use a donor egg--
                      (quickly covering herself again)
              --if it came to it.

                           JEROME
              But "if it came to it" then it couldn't have your--
                      (searching for an appropriate body part)
              --nose.
                      (stroking her face)
              How perfect does your child have to be?

                           IRENE
                      (mildly irritated by what she
                      perceives as his mocking)
              You hypocrite.  Do you think for one moment
              you'd be doing what you're doing if it wasn't
              for who you are--what you are?  Don't you get
              any satisfaction knowing that your children
              will be able to live to a ripe old age unless
              they do something foolish?

                           JEROME
              That's precisely what scaresme--that they
              won't do anything foolish or courageous or
              anything--worth a Goddamn.

     Irene is taken aback by Jerome's passion, regarding him in a new
     light.


     INT.  EUGENE'S CONDOMINIUM.  MORNING.

     EUGENE urinates into a large plastic container while drinking
     bottled water at the same time.  He already has several other
     containers of urine on the table beside him.


     INT.  GATTACA.  MORNING.

     The INVESTIGATOR and DETECTIVE HUGO keep a wary eye on the
     outfitted DETECTIVES re-vacuuming the empty computer complex
     with their mini-vacs.

                           HUGO
                      (reading newspaper)
              My wife and I--we're thinking of starting a family.

                           INVESTIGATOR
                      (shrugs, ambivalent)
              Why not?

                           HUGO
              These new personality corrections I've been
              reading about.

                           INVESTIGATOR
              You worried about the cost?

                           HUGO
              Not that.

                           INVESTIGATOR
                      (regarding Hugo with a condescending smile)
              They said the same thing about myopia and
              obesity.  You think your children would be
              less human if they were less violent, angry,
              spiteful?  Maybe they'd be more human.  From
              where I sit the world could stand a little
              improving.

     We dwell on one DETECTIVE in particular, snatching a garbage
     bag from CAESAR, the janitor.

                           DETECTIVE
              Don't touch that.  It's evidence.

     He puts a pile of discarded paper cups aside for later testing.


     INT.  GATTACA CORPORATION.  LATER THAT MORNING.

     In the vast, empty Gattaca complex the INVESTIGATOR inspects a
     specimen bag containing Jerome's paper cup with DIRECTOR JOSEF
     and DETECTIVE HUGO.

                           DETECTIVE HUGO
              Positive saliva match.  The cup was
              definitely used since the original sweep.

                           INVESTIGATOR
              So we have two choices.  Either our suspect
              came back to the murder scene for a drink of
              water and I don't know anybody that thirsty or...
                      (looking out over the empty complex)
              ...he is here.
                      (resolute)
              We test again.  You're right, Hugo, this was a
              desperate act.  Someone had a lot to lose that
              night--perhaps their place in line.
                      (to Director Josef)
              I'd like the profiles of everyone with an
              upcoming mission.

                           DIRECTOR JOSEF
                      (nervous)
              Twelve have a mission within the week.

                           INVESTIGATOR
              This time I will supervise each test personally.


     INT/EXT.  GATTACA.  MORNING.

     JEROME and IRENE walk towards the entrance to Gattaca.  Spying
     the Homicide Investigation trucks parked at the rear of the
     building and the silhouette of the INVESTIGATOR in the doorway,
     Jerome pulls up sharply.  Irene notices his unease.

                           IRENE
              What is it?

                           JEROME
              I forgot something--something at home.
              I'll see you later.

     Jerome kisses her.  Irene, also aware of the trucks,
     interrogates Jerome with her eyes.

                           IRENE
              I'll miss you.

     Jerome is still focussed on the entranceway.

                           IRENE
                      (looking skywards)
              --when you go away.

                           JEROME
              We could go together one day.

     Irene considers the idea.  She enters Gattaca alone.


     INT.  GATTACA AEROSPACE CORPORATION - COMPUTER COMPLEX.  DAY.

     IRENE prepares a stack of ID photos of CREW MEMBERS for the
     INVESTIGATOR.  She closely inspects the doctored photo of
     JEROME, hesitating before adding it to the file.

     The camera dwells on JEROME's vacant work station.  The
     INVESTIGATOR curiously regards the empty chair.  He is
     accompanied by DETECTIVE HUGO, DIRECTOR JOSEF and IRENE.

                           DETECTIVE HUGO
              He's the only absentee.

                           DIRECTOR JOSEF
              A little nausea.  Quite common.

                           INVESTIGATOR
              At least it's nothing contagious.

                           DIRECTOR JOSEF
                      (unduly agitated)
              I will not permit any further testing on the
              eve of a mission.  We're already counting
              backwards.

     The INVESTIGATOR ignores Josef and takes a pocket knife from his
     jacket.  He prises out the "ESC" key from Jerome's keyboard,
     places the key in a specimen bag and deposits it in his jacket.

                           IRENE
                      (picking up a phone)
              I'll call and let him know.

     The Investigator gently but firmly removes the phone from
     Irene's hand and replaces the receiver in the cradle.

                           INVESTIGATOR
              Let's not spoil the surprise.
                      (to Irene)
              I understand you can show us the way.

     The anxious Director Josef calls out to protest one further
     time but the Investigator is on his way out of the door.


     EXT.  STREET OUTSIDE GATTACA.  DAY.

     Outside the entrance to Gattaca, trying to hail a taxi, JEROME
     is startled to see a car carrying the INVESTIGATOR, DETECTIVE
     HUGO and IRENE roar out of the driveway.  JEROME calls on his
     portable wristphone.


     INT.  EUGENE'S CONDOMINIUM.  DAY.

     EUGENE, at his window, filling sachets as usual, hesitates
     before answering the phone.

                           EUGENE
              Hello?

                           JEROME (OC)
              How would you like to be yourself for the day?

                           EUGENE
                      (nonchalant)
              I was never very good at it, remember?


     INT.  EUGENE'S CONDOMINIUM / HALLWAY.  DAY.

     With a look of resolve, EUGENE hangs up the phone.

     He wheels his chair up to the sweeping staircase and regards the
     first of many dozen steps.  The daunting staircase spirals away
     above him.


     INT.  INVESTIGATOR'S CAR.  DAY.

     HUGO drives.  The INVESTIGATOR looks to IRENE in the rear seat.

                           INVESTIGATOR
                      (taunting)
              You don't know who he is, do you, Irene?

     He hands her the pill box found in Michael's.

                           INVESTIGATOR
              You think you have problems?


     INT.  EUGENE'S CONDO/JEROME'S CONDO.  DAY.

     Having wheeled his chair out of sight, EUGENE eases himself out
     of his wheelchair and onto the floor.  Using his elbows,
     commando-style, dragging his lifeless legs behind him, he
     proceeds to crawl across the floor and up the first step of the
     long spiral staircase.  We observe his agonizingly slow progress
     up a staircase that, from Eugene's point of view, appears to
     have doubled in length.


     EXT.  CONDOMINIUM COMPLEX.  DAY.

     The INVESTIGATOR and DETECTIVE HUGO emerge from their car with
     IRENE in tow.  They take in the impressive complex - the
     Investigator gets a glimpse of the empty pool.  They approach
     the intercom at the entrance.


     INT.  JEROME'S CONDOMINIUM.  DAY.

     EUGENE, bathed in sweat, finally crests the landing of the
     staircase.  No respite.  As he drags himself across the floor
     the internal phone rings.  He frantically stretches up and
     knocks the phone off its hook so he can talk from his prone
     position on the floor.


     INT.  CONDOMINIUM - LOBBY.  DAY.

     IRENE is on the phone, closely watched by the INVESTIGATOR and
     DETECTIVE HUGO.

                           EUGENE (OC)
                      (through intercom, no trace of his distress)
              Hello.

                           IRENE
                      (a moment's hesitation)
              Jerome--?

                           EUGENE
              Hello, sweatheart.  Come on up.


     INT.  JEROME'S CONDOMINIUM.  DAY.

     With no mean effort, EUGENE finally manages to replace the phone
     on its cradle.  He desperately crawls up onto the sofa.
     However, spying the upright vacuum cleaner in the open closet,
     he is forced to crawl there and remove the vacuum bag.  He
     frantically crawls back towards the sofa and stuffs the bag
     behind a cushion.


     INT.  JEROME'S CONDOMINIUM.  DAY.

     IRENE enters the door deliberately left ajar, closely followed
     by the INVESTIGATOR and DETECTIVE HUGO.  EUGENE is propped up on
     the sofa, TV remote control placed in his useless hand to cover
     his paralysis.  He has a stainless steel bowl next to him and
     has crossed his lifeless legs for a more natural effect.  Eugene
     calmy motions the confused Irene towards him.

                           EUGENE
              Where's my kiss?

     The Investigator scrutinizes Irene's reaction.  With only the
     merest hesitation she takes her cue from Eugene and kisses
     him affectionately on the forehead.  She perches herself on the
     arm of the sofa.  Eugene takes the opportunity to rest his
     arm on her leg.

                           IRENE
              Good to see you're feeling better.

                           EUGENE
              Now you're here.  Who are your "friends"?

                           IRENE
              It's about the Director.

                           EUGENE
                      (feigning boredom)
              Again?

     The Investigator slowly circles Eugene, regarding him with the
     utmost scrutiny.  He compares his face to the doctored Gattaca
     ID photo - a passable likeness.  Eugene bends towards the bowl
     and dry retches.

                           EUGENE
              Forgive me for not getting up.

     Irene puts a comforting hand on Eugene's shoulder.

                           IRENE
                      (to the Investigator)
              Couldn't we do this another time?

                           INVESTIGATOR
              I don't believe so.

     Detective Hugo takes a seat in the chair beside the sofa and
     unpacks a syringe from the kit he carries.

                           DETECTIVE HUGO
              This won't take a moment.

     Detective Hugo swabs Eugene's inner arm.  All eyes are trained
     on the tip of the needle as it punctures the vein.

                           EUGENE
                      (reassuring to Irene, referring to
                      the blood flowing into the syringe)
              It's okay.  Maybe they can find out what I've got.

     Under the Investigator's watchful eye, Detective Hugo withdraws
     the syringe and immediately inserts a small amount of the blood
     into the portable analyzer he wears.  Naturally, it confirms
     that Eugene is Jerome.

     Irene does her best to conceal her shock.  Hiding his
     frustration, the Investigator distractedly tours the room while
     Hugo packs up his gear.  The Investigator idly toys with
     the telescope pointed out of the window.

     Next he wanders towards the closet and reaches for the doorknob.

                           INVESTIGATOR
              Mind if I take a leak?

                           EUGENE
              As long as you don't do it in my closet.
                      (nodding to the other side of the room)
              Over there.


     INT.  JEROME'S CONDOMINIUM - BATHROOM.  DAY.

     The INVESTIGATOR immediately pulls a specimen bag from his
     jacket pocket and closely inspects the stainless steel toilet
     and sink.  They are both spotless.  The shower stall is also
     scrupulously clean.  He flushes the toilet and exits.

     Lost in thought, the INVESTIGATOR approaches the closet again
     and wheels out Jerome's upright vacuum cleaner.  He is
     disappointed a second time to find no vacuum bag inside.  The
     Investigator returns the vacuum cleaner to the closet and
     produces a mini-vac from Detective Hugo's crime bag.

                           INVESTIGATOR
                      (to Eugene, referring to ther mini-vac)
              May I?

                           EUGENE
              Clean the whole house if you want.

                           IRENE
                      (taking Eugene's lead)
              Actually, the kitchen needs doing.

     The Investigator switches on the mini-vac to take a specimen
     from the floor, then promptly kills the machine.  Looking down,
     the Investigator notices the trail of Eugene's perspiration
     on the highly polished floor leading to the spiral staircase.

     Eugene, reading the Investigator's mind, goes to call out but
     the words remain frozen on his tongue.  Hugo follows his
     superior as they start to descend the stairs.  Irene and Eugene
     are left staring at one another.


     INT.  CONDO - STAIRCASE.  DAY.

     JEROME catches the merest glimpse of the INVESTIGATOR and
     DETECTIVE HUGO before he slips behind a doorway in Eugene's
     condominium.

     Jerome anxiously regards Eugene's empty wheelchair sitting
     there.  On the stairs, Hugo's phone rings.

                           DETECTIVE HUGO (OC)
                      (into phone, increasingly encouraged)
              Yes?...Yes...yes...

     The Investigator is already at the foot of the stairs in
     Eugene's condo when the Detective calls to him.

                           DETECTIVE
                      (urgent, to Investigator)
              Come quickly.  We have him.

     The Investigator's eyes light up.  He retraces his steps
     up the staircase after Detective Hugo.


     INT.  JEROME'S CONDOMINIUM.  DAY.

     JEROME, white as a ghost, climbs the stairs, emerging into his
     own condominium.  He embraces the beaming EUGENE, still sitting
     on the sofa.

                           JEROME
                      (numb)
              How are you, Jerome?

                           EUGENE
              Not bad, Jerome.

                           JEROME
              How the hell did you get here.

                           EUGENE
                      (deadpan)
              I could always walk.  I've been faking it.

     Jerome almost laughs, despite the situation.  Only now does he
     notice Irene on the other side of the room, her mind racing.
     She looks at Jerome and Eugene together and runs from the
     apartment.

                           JEROME
                      (calling after her)
              Irene.

     Jerome goes to follow but Eugene stops him.


     INT.  CRIME LABORATORY.  DAY.

     An EXTREME CLOSE UP of dried blood - brittle and cracking - on
     a pair of soiled latex gloves.  A latex head mask, suit of
     clothes and shoe covers are similarly caked.  The INVESTIGATOR
     and DETECTIVE HUGO watch as a white-coated FORENSIC TECHNICIAN
     feeds a minute sample of the dried blood into an analyzer.

     The INVESTIGATOR wanders over to a one-way glass window through
     which he can observe DIRECTOR JOSEF, sitting numb but strangely
     serene in an interrogation room.  The Investigator, in a state
     of shock himself, cannot yet bring himself to believe what is
     plainly obvious.

                           INVESTIGATOR
                      (gazing at the Director, struggling
                      to come to grips with the turn of events)
              This can't be him.

     The Detective regards his superior incredulously, intrigued that
     he could still cling so stubbornly to his theory in the face of
     such overwhelming evidence.

                           DETECTIVE HUGO
                      (intrigued)
              We found his spit in the dead director's eye.
              He's signed a confession--supplied us with the
              suit he wore on the night.  What more do you
              want?

                           INVESTIGATOR
                      (a trace of desperation, grasping at straws)
              Luca could still be an accomplice.

     The Investigator turns away, unwilling or unable to accept the
     explanation.  Hugo regards the Investigator with a trace of
     sympathy.  He furtively retrieves the Investigator's tissue
     from the trash.


     INT.  GATTACA.  DAY.

     JEROME sits in a formal briefing room with the other CREW
     MEMBERS of his mission, receiving their final pre-flight
     instructions.  LAMAR looks on approvingly.

                           MISSION COMMANDER
              --Finally, I'd like to welcome Navigator Morrow
              on his debut mission--if we get lost out there,
              nobody has a map of the heavens in his head like
              Jerome.

     Jerome looks up bashfully.

                           MISSION COMMANDER
                      (adopting a more serious tone)
              I'm gratified that there is no longer a cloud
              hanging over tomorrow's launch.  Now we can put
              this unpleasantness behind us and concentrate
              on the task at hand.  I don't have to tell you how
              important this mission is--the Belt could hold
              the key to the origin of life - why we are what
              we are.
                      (injecting a note of levity)
              I know many of you have been asking that
              question about me for long enough.
                      (referring to a projected photograph
                      of a misshapen asteroid behind his head)
              Gaspra--how could something so ugly hold so
              many beautiful secrets?

     Polite smiles from his colleagues.

                           MISSION COMMANDER
              Enjoy your final evening with your families.
              We'll all be a year older when they see
              us next.  And don't be late tomorrow.  You
              don't want to miss this.

     We focus on Jerome.  He appears to have his head in the heavens
     already.


     INT.  CRIME LAB.  NIGHT.

     The tormented INVESTIGATOR lies on the floor of his lab, staring
     at the ceiling.  he winces in discomfort.  He is lying on
     something.  He rolls over and retrieves the irritation from his
     pocket.  It is the "ESC" computer key he prized from Jerome's
     keyboard.

     He gazes at the key for a moment and then gets to his feet.  He
     resurrects an old fingerprint kit from a cupboard.  Carefully
     removing the key from the specimen bag - marked, "MORROW,
     Jerome" - he begins to dust it for a fingerprint.

     He places the key under a camera.  The enlarged print appears
     on the lefthand side of his computer screen.  The word "MATCH"
     blinks onto the screen.  However the face that appears from the
     computer's databank is not that of "MORROW, Jerome" but
     "LUCA, Vincent".  The Investigator regards the photograph in
     disbelief.

     DETECTIVE HUGO casually enters the lab, something odd in his
     nonchalant demeanor.

                           INVESTIGATOR
                      (excited)
              Hugo!  I've found him!

                           HUGO
              I've found him too.

                           INVESTIGATOR
                      (not listening, referring to his discovery)
              A fingerprint.  There's something to be
              said for nostalgia.
                      (realizing what Hugo has said)
              What did you find?

     Hugo puts a specimen bag on the counter.  It contains the
     Investigator's discarded tissue.  The Investigator does
     not recognize it.

                           DETECTIVE HUGO
              It's not exactly him.

                           INVESTIGATOR
                      (interest piqued)
              Where did you get this?

     The Investigator immediately deposits the tissue into an
     analyzer.

                           DETECTIVE HUGO
                      (referring to the tissue)
              But this man does share some common
              characteristics with your suspect.  Not so
              many but enough.  It appears the eyelash
              has a brother--of a kind.

     The Investigator realizes the significance and looks guiltily
     to Hugo.  Hugo exits the lab, leaving the Investigator to stare
     at his own FACE in his analyzing machine.


     INT.  GATTACA - JANITOR'S LOCKER ROOM.  NIGHT.

     CAESAR, the old janitor, enters the locker room.  He is about to
     wearily open his locker when he senses another presence in the
     room.

     He turns to find JEROME sitting there on a bench.  Although
     clearly delighted, CAESAR tries to disguise his pleasure.

                           CAESAR
              So you've finally seen sense and come back
              to your old job, Vincent.

                           JEROME
              Not yet, I'm afraid.

                           CAESAR
              No?  What's keeping you?

                           JEROME
              I guess I'm a slow learner.

                           CAESAR
              I guess so.
                      (looking up through the
                      small window)
              Well, while you're up there, maybe you could
              tidy the place up a bit.

                           JEROME
              I'll see what I can do.

     The two men embrace, Caesar breaking off before Jerome.

                           CAESAR
              And don't go getting everybody lost out there.
              You'll give us a bad name.  You won't have
              me to keep an eye on you, you know.

                           JEROME
                      (glancing to Caesar's locker)
              By the way, I left some trash in your locker.

                           CAESAR
                      (happy to oblige)
              I'll take care of it.

     Jerome departs.  Caesar watches him go and turns back to his
     locker.  He opens it to find a brand new, high-tech telescope
     sitting inside.

     The old janitor gets over his surprise and beams broadly -
     he looks back in Jerome's direction but he has gone.  The
     old janitor cannot help himself and reverently reaches for the
     telescope's eyepiece.


     INT.  GATTACA - COMPUTER COMPLEX.  NIGHT.

     In the dimly-lit, empty computer complex, JEROME takes a last
     look around.  He sits at his computer, one final time replaying
     the graphic representation of his path through the cosmos that
     he is on the eve of taking for real.

     He notices the key missing from his keyboard.  Instantly
     realizing the significance, he rises from his seat to flee.

                           INVESTIGATOR
              Vincent--

     Jerome is stopped in his tracks by the sound of his given name
     and the voice that calls it.

     He makes no further attempt to flee but turns to face his
     pursuer.  The Investigator steps out of the shadows.

                           INVESTIGATOR
              Vincent, what are you running from?

                           JEROME
                      (disturbingly calm)
              From Vincent.

     The two men face each other for the first time in a long
     time.  The Investigator is transfixed by Jerome's face -
     scarcely able to believe his eyes.

                           INVESTIGATOR
              Has it been so long, you don't remember
              who I am?

                           JEROME
                      (nodding to the Investigator's badge)
              Maybe it's you who's forgotten.
                      (meeting his gaze)
              What are you doing here, Anton?

     It is finally apparent the Investigator is Jerome's younger
     brother Anton [AS WE SHALL REFER TO THE INVESTIGATOR FOR THE
     REST OF THE FILM].

                           ANTON
              I could ask you the same question.
                      (glancing to the impressive complex)
              I have a right to be here, you don't.

     Jerome smiles at him condescendingly.

                           JEROME
              You almost sound like you believe that.

                           ANTON
                      (ignoring the remark, extending his hand)
              Come with me now, Vincent.  You've gone as far
              as you can go.

                           JEROME
                      (refusing Anton's hand, glancing
                      to the telescope above them)
              There are a few million miles to go yet.

                           ANTON
                      (adamant)
              It's over.

                           JEROME
                      (shaking his head)
              Is that the only way you can succeed, Anton,
              to see me fail?

                           ANTON
              It's for the best.

                           JEROME
                      (increasingly angered)
              God, even you want to tell me what I can't do.
              In case you hadn't noticed, Anton, I don't
              need rescuing.  But you did, once.

     Anton is clearly stung by the memory.

                           JEROME
                      (goading)
              Well?  You have all the answers.  How is that
              possible?

                           ANTON
                      (resolute)
              You didn't beat me that day.  I beat myself.

                           JEROME
              Who are you trying to convince?

                           ANTON
                      (angry)
              I will prove it to you.  Come swim with
              me now, Vincent.  Now--tonight.

     Jerome regards Anton with a knowing smile.  Somewhere in Gattaca
     a phone rings.


     INT/EXT.  IRENE'S CAR OUTSIDE CONDOMINIUM COMPLEX.  NIGHT.

     IRENE, sitting in her car outside Jerome's condominium, hangs up
     her portable phone.  In her agitation, her finger involuntarily
     goes to her pulse.  She catches herself and removes the finger
     from her wrist as if it has burned her.  She exits the car.


     INT.  JEROME'S CONDOMINIUM/EUGENE'S CONDOMINIUM.  NIGHT.

     IRENE quietly knocks on Jerome's door but there is no response.
     Trying the handle, the door opens.  Her curiosity takes her
     inside.  All is quiet.  IRENE calls out.

                           IRENE
              Hello.

     No reply.  Irene hesitantly ventures further, drawn to the
     spiral staircase.  She tentatively makes her way down the stairs
     and into Eugene's dimly lit condominium.  With wonder and
     reverence, she examines the instruments and samples laid out on
     Eugene's work benches.  She opens the refrigerator in the
     bathroom and inspects the samples and sachets.  Finally she
     regards the empty incinerator.

                           EUGENE (OC)
              Quite something, isn't it?

     Irene turns.

     Eugene has entered through the mirrored door, not at all
     displeased by her unexpected visit.

                           EUGENE
                      (referring to the incinerator)
              That's where we get rid of the traces of him
              although we never truly succeeded.

                           IRENE
              I've been looking for him.  Do you know where
              he is?

                           EUGENE
                      (unconcerned)
              He's probably leaving some more of me
              around the place before he goes.

     Eugene idly inspects one of the blood sachets.

                           EUGENE
              Don't be deceived, Irene.  These are
              just the clothes.  He has to wear them.
              Something I could never do.

                           IRENE
              What's wrong with him?

                           EUGENE
                      (sympathetic smile)
              You have more in common than you know.

     Irene's hand involuntarily goes to her heart.

                           EUGENE
              But they say hisis already ten thousand beats
              overdue.  I have my doubts.
                      (wry smile)
              For all my gifts, they could never engineer
              me a heart like Vincent's.

     Irene turns back to the incinerator, lost in though.


     EXT.  BEACH.  NIGHT.

     JEROME and ANTON walk down a dune together towards the beach not
     far from Gattaca - an ocean beach pounded by an angry, black
     sea.  Jerome picks up a sharp piece of shell and slices the end
     of his thumb.  A drop of blood oozes out.  He offers the shell
     to Anton but Anton does not take it.

     Both men begin to disrobe.  The brothers stand beside each other
     on the sand once again - Anton still the more athletically-built
     of the two.

     Together, they enter the raging surf.  Diving through the
     breaking waves, they begin to swim.

     In the moonlit night, we watch their two bodies swimming side by
     side.  They swim a long distance, Anton waiting for his brother
     to tire.  But the pace does not slacken.  Anton pulls up in the
     water.  Sensing his brother is no longer beside him, Jerome also
     pulls up.  They tread water several yards apart.

                           ANTON
                      (attempting to conceal his distress)
              How are you doing this, Vincent?  How
              have you done any of this?

                           JEROME
              Now is your chance to find out.

     Jerome swims away a second time.  Anton is forced to follow
     once again.  Angry now, gritting his teeth, Anton calls
     upon the same determination we have witnessed during his
     constant swimming in the pool.  He puts on a spurt, slowly
     reeling in Jerome.

     Anton gradually draws alongside Jerome, certain that this effort
     will demoralize his older brother.  But Jerome has been foxing -
     waiting for him to catch up.  Jerome smiles at Anton.  With
     almost a trace of sympathy, he forges ahead again.  Anton is
     forced to go with him.  They swim again for a long distance.

     It is Anton who gradually becomes demoralized - his strokes
     weaken, his will draining away.  Anton pulls up, exhausted and
     fearful.  Jerome also pulls up.  However his face displays none
     of Anton's anxiety.

     They tread water several yards apart.  The ocean is choppier
     now.  The view of the lights on the shore is obscured by the
     peaks of the waves.

                           ANTON
                      (panic starting to show)
              Vincent, where's the shore?  We're too far out.
              We have to go back!

                           JEROME
                      (calling back)
              Too late for that.  We're closer to the other side.

     Anton looks towards the empty horizon.

                           ANTON
              What other side?  How far do you want to go?!
              Do you want to drown us both?
                      (becoming hysterical)
              How are we going to get back?!

     Jerome merely smiles back at his younger brother, a disturbingly
     serene smile.

                           JEROME
                      (eerily calm)
              You wanted to know how I did it.  That's
              how I did it, Anton.  I never saved anything
              for the swim back.

     Anton stares at Jerome, aghast.  The two men face each other in
     silence, treading water several yards apart in the dark, rolling
     ocean.

     Jerome turns and heads back towards the shore.  Anton is left
     alone with the terrifying realization.  The only sound, the wind
     and the water.


     EXT.  CONDOMINIUM.  NIGHT.

     JEROME, dishevelled and distressed, arrives back at the
     condominium.  He notices IRENE standing at the edge of the pool.

     She turns.  He approaches her.  They stand several yards apart.
     Looking into each other's eyes, they do not speak.  Jerome
     abruptly pulls a hair from his head - for once one of his own.

                           JEROME
                      (wry smile, offering the hair to Irene)
              Here, take it.

     Irene takes the hair, the significance not lost on her.

                           JEROME
                      (echoing Irene's words from
                      their first encounter)
              If you're still interested, let me know.

     Irene contemplates the hair in her fingers for a moment, then
     deliberately lets it fall to the ground.

                           IRENE
                      (never taking her eyes from him, echoing
                      Jerome's words from their first encounter)
              Sorry, the wind caught it.

     Once again there is not a breath of wind.  The hair lies,
     plainly visible on the edge of the pool.

     From an upstairs window, EUGENE observes the couple.


     INT.  JEROME'S CONDOMINIUM.  NIGHT.

     We watch the silhouette of IRENE and JEROME making love in
     the bedroom.


     INT.  EUGENE'S CONDOMINIUM.  NIGHT.

     EUGENE, sitting in his darkened room, unscrews the cap of a
     plastic container and places it on a nearby table.  We remain
     on Eugene's face as he opens his fly.


     INT.  JEROME'S CONDOMINIUM.  NIGHT.

     IRENE and JEROME lie in bed together after making love.  For
     once Jerome is able to sleep unconcerned.  It is Irene who lies
     awake, head against JEROME'S chest, listening to the sound of
     his erratically beating heart.  However it has a soothing
     effect on her.

     She kisses Jerome and reluctantly rises from the bed.

                           JEROME
                      (awakening)
              A year is a long time.

                           IRENE
              Not so long--just once around the sun.

     Jerome smiles.  For once Irene seems to be looking forward
     to the trip.  She exits the room.


     INT.  INCINERATOR.  MORNING.

     Inside the incinerator, JEROME scrapes away at himself - for the
     final time.  He wistfully regards the brush in his hand.


     INT.  EUGENE'S CONDOMINIUM.  MORNING.

     JEROME, dressed for his departure, emerges down the spiral
     staircase into Eugene's condo.  Jerome notices several suitcases
     at the foot of the stairs.

     EUGENE wheels into the room.

                           EUGENE
              I have your samples ready.

                           JEROME
                      (confused)
              Have you forgotten?  I don't need any samples
              where I'm going.

                           EUGENE
                      (meeting Jerome's gaze)
              No, but you might need them when you get back.

     Eugene wheels across the room and opens the mirrored door.  The
     water vapor billows out.  Jerome regards Eugene.

     Eugene leads Jerome inside for the first time.

     Inside are two rows of four identical, industrial refrigerators.
     They contain thousands of blood and urine specimens.

     Jerome regards them with awe and more than a little unease.

                           EUGENE
              Everything you need to last you two lifetimes.

     EUGENE points out an extra specimen of semen in the first
     refrigerator.

                           EUGENE
              There's an extra specimen.  I wish I
              could give it to her myself.
                      (afterthought)
              But then, you always were better at being me.

     Eugene leads the way out of the refrigerator room.

                           JEROME
                      (struggling to come to terms
                      with the discovery)
              Why have you done this?

                           EUGENE
                      (as he seals the mirrored door)
              In case you get back before I do.

                           JEROME
              Where are you going?

                           EUGENE
                      (glancing to the suitcases)
              I'm travelling too.

     Jerome goes to question Eugene's travel plans but thinks better
     of it.  He kneels before his friend and embraces him.

                           JEROME
              Thank you.

                           EUGENE
              I got the better end of the deal.  I just
              lent you my body--you lent me your dream.

     Jerome smiles and hugs Eugene a final time.  Eugene stuffs an
     envelope into Jerome's pocket.

                           EUGENE
                      (referring to the note,
                      glancing heavenwards)
              Not until you're upstairs.

     Jerome exits.  Eugene watches him go.


     INT.  GATTACA - DEPARTURE LOUNGE.  NIGHT.

     JEROME enters a large holding area along with his other eleven
     CREW MEMBERS.

     Jerome's heart sinks as he recognizes LAMAR, greeting the crew
     for one final unexpected substance test.  His colleagues
     groan good-naturedly but it is clearly far more than an
     inconvenience to Jerome.  He looks towards the door he has just
     entered but there is no way back.  One by one the crew are
     ushered behind a screen.  Before he can think of a way out, it
     is Jerome's turn.  He enters the cubicle.

                           JEROME
                      (as he takes the plastic cup from Lamar)
              What's this, Lamar?

                           LAMAR
              New policy.

     From behind, we see Jerome unzip his fly.  However for once
     Jerome does not urinate on cue - unused to operating his own
     equipment in front of the physician.

                           LAMAR
                      (intrigued by the
                      out-of-character discharge)
              Flight got you nervous?

                           JEROME
              There's a problem, Lamar.

                           LAMAR
                      (apparently not listening)
              Did I ever tell you about my son, Jerome?  He's
              a big fan of yours.  He wants to apply here.

     Jerome realizes he has no choice.  Resigned to his fate, he
     begins to fill the cup.

                           JEROME
                      (as he urinates)
              Just remember, Lamar, I could have gone up
              and back and nobody would have been the wiser--

                           LAMAR
                      (cutting him off)
              --Unfortunately my son's not all that they
              promised.  But then, who know what he could do.

     Lamar takes the cup from Jerome in his gloved hand.  Jerome
     anxiously watches his sample poured into the analyzer.

     Confirming Jerome's worst fears, the face of 20-YEAR-OLD VINCENT
     appears on the computer screen.  However Lamar does not look at
     the screen.  He stares Jerome in the eye.

                           LAMAR
              For future reference--
                      (a brief glance to where
                      Jerome has just zipped his fly)
              --righthanded men don't hold it with their
              left.  It's just one of those things.

     Never lookig at the screen, Lamar presses a button marked,
     "VALID".

                           LAMAR
                      (knowing smile)
              Have a safe trip, Vincent.

     Jerome exits up a long enclosed escalator, realizing that Lamar
     has known all along.


     INT.  EUGENE'S CONDOMINIUM.  NIGHT.

     EUGENE knocks back a vodka.  With a certain reverence he places
     his silver medal around his neck.


     INT.  ESCALATOR.  NIGHT.

     At the top of a long escalator, the door to a craft is secured.


     INT.  EUGENE'S CONDOMINIUM.  NIGHT.

     Eugene's wheelchair, empty, sits beside the door of the
     incinerator, also secured.


     EXT.  LAUNCHPAD.  NIGHT.

     A CLOSE UP of the flame of a rocket's engines igniting - the
     ball of fire engulfs the launchpad - filling the screen.


     INT.  EUGENE'S CONDOMINIUM - INCINERATOR.  NIGHT.

     Inside the incinerator another ball of fire - this time
     engulfing the unseen figure of EUGENE.  We glimpse the medal
     around his neck, melting in the fierce blaze.


     EXT.  GATTACA - LAUNCHPAD.  NIGHT.

     As we have seen so often in the past, a rocket launches into
     the sky over Gattaca - however on this occasion it carries
     Jerome.


     INT.  SPACECRAFT.  NIGHT.

     We focus on JEROME's face - seeing little if any of the craft.
     Jerome's eyes are closed.  His head is still - alarmingly still.
     Could the launch itself have been too much for him?  He hear the
     thoguhts in his head.

                           JEROME (VO)
              We came from the stars so they say, now
              it's time to go back.  If I was conceived
              today, I would not get beyond eight cells,
              and yet here I am.  In a way they were
              right, I don't have the heart for this world.
                      (pause)
              The question is, why am I having so much
              trouble dying?

     Jerome's eyes blink open.  He holds the letter from Eugene in
     his hand.  It contains no words, merely a lock of EUGENE'S hair
     - for once preserved solely for its sentimental value.  The
     hair, weightless, floats off the page.

     We focus on a porthole looking out upon a starscape.


     A STARSCAPE

     As we pan across the constellations, a title is superimposed
     upon the starscape:

              In a few short years, scientists will
              have completed the Human Genome Project,
              the mapping of all the genes that make
              up a human being.

              After 4 billion years of evolution by the
              slow and clumsy method of natural selection,
              we have now evolved to the point where we
              can direct our own evolution.

     The first title is replaced in the heavens by a second title.

              If only we had aquired this knowledge
              sooner, the following people would never
              have been born:

     A succession of portraits and photographs of RENOWNED and
     HISTORIC FIGURES fades in and out of the constellations - the
     accompanying titles list their affliction rather than their
     accomplishments.

                               HOMER
                         Blind from birth

                         NAPOLEON BONAPARTE
                              Epileptic

                               COLETTE
                              Arthritic

                              LOU GERHIG
                      Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis
                         (Lou Gerhig's Disease)

                             RITA HAYWORTH
                         Alzheimer's Disease

                             HELEN KELLER
                            Blind and deaf

                           STEPHEN HAWKING
                        Lou Gerhig's Disease

                         JACKIE JOYNER-KERSEE
                             Asthmatic

                           CHARLES DARWIN
                          Chronic invalid

     The face of Charles Darwin fades off and another title appears
     out of the stars.

              Even Charles Darwin, the man who told of
              the survival of the fittest, numbered
              amongst our frailest.

     The title fades off and is replaced by one final title in the
     night sky.

              Of course, the other birth that would
              surely never have taken place is your own.


     CUT TO BLACK





     

Gattaca



Writers :   Andrew Niccol
Genres :   Drama  Sci-Fi  Thriller


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