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            INT. MEETING BOARDROOM-2. - DAY

            Inside the meeting room. 

            Neville, Brian, Bob and Tom sit around the table. Dressed as
            before.  Discussing the new budget. The door noticeably
            closed. 

            The wall - calendar shows May 30.

                                NEVILLE 
                          (over his half- glasses)
                      Downsizing is the only answer. Clear
                      focus, that's it. Retract to diminutive
                      capability, eliminate the vertical
                      structure of the, 
                          (sneers)
                      "old" company, sub-contract R & D, give
                      the Factory to the other Facility and
                      tell the Unions to get stuffed! 
                          (bangs the table)

            Bob nods, agreeing, adjusts himself while sitting. Lapses 
            into  a  long  smokers  cough. 

            EVERYONE distastefully waits for him to stop. Brian fuming
            but hiding it. Tom angry.

                                TOM 
                      Bet your Melbourne office costs the seme
                      es the money required for the twenty -
                      sex retrenchments! End, whet's mere, 
                          (pause)
                      for only THREE people!

            A noticeable deathly HUSH. 

            Brian and Tom look at one another. FEAR. 

            Bob grins. Neville ignores the comment. Continues.

                                NEVILLE 
                      I've got to go to UK, so, Brian, you'll
                      have to organise the retrenchments.
                      Corporate has it in - hand. Employee
                      Development will tell you what to do. 
                          (looks at BRIAN over his
                           glasses)

            Brian boils with resentment.  Bob smirks, adjusts himself
            while sitting. To the other side. Tom astounded

            EXT. THE ASYLUM-19.- DAY

            BACK TO:	The Police wagon continuing. Over a radio
            communicator

                                LEADER (V.O.)
                      Anchor! Kill level!

            ANCHOR aiming his weapon. 

            A VIEW through the telescopic sights of a weapon. Finds Joe's
            head through the Police wagon rear compartment window. Over a
            radio-communicator

                                ANCHOR (V.O.)
                      Kill 50 per-cent level.

                                LEADER (V.O.)
                      Continue!

                                ANCHOR (V.O.)
                      Compliant!

            INT. POLICE WAGON INTERIOR-20. - DAY

            BACK TO:	Bruce incredulous.

                                BRUCE 
                          (incredulous)
                      They decided to fire twenty-six people in
                      only one DAY?

                                JOE
                      Sheer panic! A true wally, "save-
                      yourself" decision! Fuckitup and fire the
                      workers! You see, multiply twenty - six
                      by the average yearly Australian wage,
                      add four - hundred - thousand dollars for
                      rentrenchments,
                          (grins)
                      "restructuring", and what've you got?

                                BRUCE 
                      Don't tell me..... enough money to keep
                      the boss and two others in the Melbourne
                      office for another year!

            Joe smirks.

                                BRUCE (cont'd)
                          (amazed)
                      But, how can three people spend one 
                      point - two million dollars in a year?
                      What do they do?

                                JOE
                      S'easy if you're Public Service. 
                          (beat)
                      You don't have to earn it. 
                          (grins)
                      Just take it from wallies like... 
                          (beat -- grin widening)
                      us! 
                          (beat)
                      Fly around to seminars, First - Class, of
                      course, go to USA to set up "Teaming
                      Partners". Oh, there's easy ways to get
                      rid of the money. 
                          (beat)
                      Give thirty-million to the people who'll
                      vote for you next time, and then make
                      sure you spend all of the budget left
                      Before June thirtieth, or you can't ask
                      for more next financial year!
                          (beat)
                      But then, if you're Public Service, not
                      familiar with earning your keep, and
                      going Private, add "Downsizing".
                      Restructure to save yourself, show a
                      profit by selling off assets and firing
                      employees. Let the dole offices employ
                      them. Make "time" until you can retire on
                      a pension which would make the balance 
                      of - payments seem diminutive!

            Bruce cannot believe it.

            EXT. THE ASYLUM-20.- DAY

            The Police wagon continuing. Over a radio-communicator

                                LEADER (V.O.)
                      Anchor! Kill level!

            ANCHOR aiming his weapon. 

            A VIEW through the telescopic sights of a weapon. Joe's head
            through the Police wagon rear compartment window. 

            Over a radio-communicator.

                                ANCHOR (V.O.)
                      Kill 90 per-cent level.

                                LEADER (V.O.)
                      Continue!

                                ANCHOR (V.O.)
                      Compliant!

            INT. POLICE WAGON INTERIOR-21. - DAY

            The wagon interior. Joe explaining.

                                JOE
                      Haven't you ever been in an airport First
                      Class lounge? Where everything is free?
                      That is, if you don't have to pay the
                      membership or the price of the First
                      Class, or Business - Class air - ticket.

            Bruce doesn't understand. Joe's eyes glase. He thinks back.

            INT. AIRPORT FIRST CLASS LOUNGE-1. - DAY

            An airport First-Class lounge. 

            WAITRESS behind bar. Attentive. 

            PEOPLE abound. 

            Dressed in RAAF uniforms. 

            In ARMY uniforms. 

            In NAVY uniforms. 

            In civvies, obviously  PUBLIC SERVANTS. 

            Abundant FREE drink everywhere.

                                JOE (V.O.)
                      You look around,

            Dave and Joe sit at a table.

                                DAVE 
                      Look around.

            Joe looks around.

                                DAVE (cont'd)
                      Apart from the "uniforms", who do you
                      think are "Public Servants"?
                          (grins)

            Joe confused, astounded, cannot believe what he sees. 

            Dave holds out his 'Gold Card'.

                                DAVE (cont'd)
                      And they've probably all got Gold Cards.

            He grins, drinks his drink, raises his eyebrows, then
            querulously;

                                DAVE (cont'd)
                      Wonder where our money goes?

                                JOE
                          (dumfounded)
                      It's like Inventivetech.

                                DAVE
                          (frowning)
                      Howd' you mean

                                JOE
                      Well, they quoted half - a - million
                      dollars to make ten of Neville's Multi -
                      Purpose - Infantry - Target - Mechanisms
                      and ended up spending the money making
                      one which didn't work!

                                DAVE
                          (grinning)
                      And we have to spend another half -
                      million making the MPITS work! Wonder
                      where our money goes? Neville's a real
                      Public Servant!

                                BRUCE (V.O.)
                      No, I don't believe it....

            INT. POLICE WAGON INTERIOR-22. - DAY

            Bruce disbelieving.

                                BRUCE 
                      All public servants? With Gold Cards? A
                      million dollars for one?  No, I don't
                      believe it! 
                          (contemplative beat)
                      I'm getting to see how you're a real
                      problem though!

                                JOE
                          (smiling)
                      And, what's more the MPITS cost more than
                      the equipment which we designed and made.
                          (laughs)
                      Neville called our kit "backwards -
                      contaminated". Fed it to Corporate and
                      they believed it. Bloody wallies!
                          (sadly screws his face up)

            EXT. THE ASYLUM-21.- DAY

            BACK TO:	The Police wagon continuing. Over a radio
            communicator

                                LEADER (V.O.)
                      Anchor! Kill level.

            ANCHOR  aiming his weapon.  

            A VIEW  through  the telescopic sights of a weapon. Joe's
            head through the Police wagon rear compartment window. Over a
            radio-communicator.

                                ANCHOR (V.O.)
                      Kill 95 per-cent level.

                                LEADER (V.O.)
                      Continue!

                                ANCHOR (V.O.)
                      Compliant!

            A VIEW through the telescopic sights of a weapon. Joe's head
            through the Police wagon rear compartment window. 

            Joe TALKING. 

            Anchor thinks.

                                ANCHOR (cont'd) (V.O.)
                      Fuck this! I keep thinking the dummy's
                      talking!
                           (beat)
                      Go training, that's it! Not that
                      simulation shit -- the real stuff! 

            His eyes glase, through the slits in the balaclava. 

            EXT. A FIRING RANGE.  - DAY

            A firing range. Outdoors. 

            Anchor lies.  SAS black outfit. 

            Weapon following a moving target some 400 metres away.  7.62
            Sniper weapon. With telescopic sights. Silenced.  

            Target is EFFIGY of POLICE WAGON. Moves back and forth. 

            VIEW through weapon's sights. DUMMY head seen through target
            window cut-out. 

            Anchor thinks. His eyes. Through the balaclava slits.

                                ANCHOR (V.O.)
                      Bloody good range this. Wonder who
                      designed it?

            Over a radio-communicator Interrupting his thought.

                                LEADER (V.O.)
                      Anchor! Kill level!

                                ANCHOR (V.O.)
                      Kill 99 per-cent.

                                LEADER (V.O.)
                      Go! Go! Go!

            Anchor fires his weapon. 

            The SOUND of the soft crack of a silenced weapon.

            INT.  POLICE WAGON INTERIOR-23. - DAY

            BACK TO:	Bruce questioning.

                                BRUCE 
                      You must have designed a lot of stuff
                      before the, 
                          (grins)
                      "Wallies", moved in?

                                JOE
                      Yeah, quite a lot, it's all over the
                      world now. 
                          (nostalgic beat)
                      The best was for an SAS complex. A moving
                      target which could go from stop to twenty
                      - kay and stop in six seconds.
                           (smiles, proudly)
                      Australian designed. Used by everyone
                      coming from all over the world. But not
                      coming to "our" door! 
                          (looks despondent)
                      But the "wallies" fucked that up, as
                      well.

            EXT. THE TRAJECTORY.  - DAY

            MUSIC. Life-threatening. 

            Following the speeding - SLOW MOTION bullet. 

            Right towards the police wagon window. 

            Joe's head within. 

            A bullet silently flies in SLOW MOTION towards a Police
            wagon. From a sniper weapon.

            INT. POLICE WAGON INTERIOR-24. - DAY

            BACK TO:	Bruce questioning.

                                BRUCE 
                      But you're a bloody Pom! How's it
                      Australian?

            The wagon window SHATTERS. 

            A 7.62 neat HOLE appears in Joe's head. 

            The window behind Joe's head SHATTERS. 

            The SOUND of a supersonic bullet and the SHATTERING window. 

            Joe's rear head contents EXPLODE over the window now not
            there. 

            Joe slowly starts to topple to the floor.

                                BRUCE (cont'd)
                      And,
                          (beat -- slowly realising as
                           Joe topples)
                      Oh,  shit!

            Joe slowly topples to the floor. In SLOW MOTION Lies facing
            upwards. 

            Bruce bangs on the wagon drivers cab window. Scared.

                                BRUCE 
                      Bill! Bill! Stop!

            He turns to Joe, then IN PERMANENT VERY SLOW MOTION.
            Continues to lean down towards him.

            EXT. THE ASYLUM-23.- DAY

            Anchor lying. Weapon aimed. 

            VIEW through weapons sights.  Frontal head of Joe through
            rear window of Police wagon. Weapon fired. Head of Joe
            disappears. The wagon window behind disappears. Over a radio
            communicator

                                LEADER (V.O.)
                      Anchor? Hit confirm!

                                ANCHOR (V.O.)
                      Hit! 
                          (beat, then not sure)
                      I think.

                                LEADER (V.O.)
                          (incredulous)
                      Think?  Shit!
                          (then, commanding)
                      Phase 2! Thumper commit!

                                THUMPER (V.O.)
                      Compliant!

            THUMPER, from his concealed position, lifts his ADI  Steyr,
            ADI grenade in the barrel. Aims at the Police wagon. A
            mathematically learnt trajectory.

            EXT. THE STOP. - DAY

            The Police wagon SCREECHES to a stop. 

            Bill gets out runs to the rear. Opens the door. 

            Bruce jumps out. Gesticulates towards the interior. 

            BOTH look around. Nervously.

            INT. POLICE WAGON INTERIOR-25. - DAY

            Joe lies on the floor of the wagon. Shot in the head. Dying.
            BLOOD spurts from the hole in his head. Syncronised with his
            heart-rate. 

            JOE POV:	Bruce  reaching down to him. In PERMANENT VERY
            SLOW MOTION. Virtually stopped moving.  Earth-time has
            stopped for him as he dies. His universal mind takes over.  

            A SPURT of blood past our eyes. From the hole in our head. 

            Bruce statuesque.

                                JOE (V.O.)
                      Shit! What's that? 

            Another SPURT of blood. From the hole in our head.

                                JOE (cont'd) (V.O.)
                          (realising - incredulous)
                      I've been shot! 
                          (pause)
                      They wouldn't!
                          (disbelief)
                      They wouldn't!

            BLACKNESS. 

            The SOUND of a heartbeat. 

            MUSIC. Dying, yet soon-to be reborn mystical MUSIC. 

            INT. THE AWAKENING. - DAY

            LIGHT. Slowly. Hazy LIGHT. Somewhere -- nowhere. 

            YOUNG Joe, (25), very black, very bushy-hair, MISTS into
            view. Flannelette shirt. Different colour.  Grey slacks. 
            Slightly hazy. Like a reflection in rippling water.

                                JOE (V.O.)
                          (scared)
                      Who, who are you?

                                YOUNG JOE
                          (magnificently)
                      We are our Overself. 
                          (beat, then as Joe)
                      We really bolluxed this one up, didn't
                      we?

                                JOE (V.O.)
                      Bolluxed?

                                YOUNG JOE
                          (grinning)
                      Sorry, We messed this life up, as well!

                                JOE (V.O.)
                          (realising, astounded)
                      You're me!

                                YOUNG JOE
                      We always do it, no matter what
                      incarnation we bluddy well get. 
                          (shakes his head)
                      When will we ever learn?

                                JOE (V.O.)
                          (confused)
                      Learn?

                                YOUNG JOE
                          (really fed-up)
                      Oh, just re - live it.
                      But, this time mix it up. Maybe in the
                      next incarnation we'll take the money! 
                          (grins, triumphantly)

            BLACKNESS. 

            The SOUND of a heartbeat.

            INT. THE COURTROOM. - DAY

            PEOPLE in the court around. MISTY. Not important. 

            Joe, (50), stands in the "dock". 

            The JUDGE misty. Not important. He addresses Joe. Judge-like.

                                JUDGE 
                      The evidence Mr. Trigger gave clearly
                      confirmed your sole conspiracy in this
                      debacle. The psychiatrists' reports
                      indicate that you are of unsound mind. If
                      it were not for the mitigating
                      circumstances of your underpinned
                      nugatory confirmed unfocussed negatively 
                      proactive insane mindset, you would have
                      more to answer for. The nugatory acts you
                      have proactively committed are tantamount
                      to underpinned focussed heresy, and
                      totally unfocussed for the mindset of
                      this modern downsizing outplaced day and
                      age. 
                          (beat)
                      Have you anything to say before I
                      pronounce sentence?

                                JOE
                      Not guilty my Lord. I am but the victim
                      of the "Company" directed attendance at
                      the Management Education Week, the 'MEW'. 
                          (beat, then quizzically)
                      Since the Upper Management never attended
                      themselves how could they know what it
                      was all about?

                                JUDGE 
                          (ignoringly judge - like)
                      I sentence you to.... (interrupted beat)

            The SOUND of human excretion. 

            Joe  P.O.V.; The Judge is totally NUDE, an amazed look on his
            face. 

            Joe  cannot understand why his view is from squatting on the
            floor.

                                JOE (V.O.)
                      Why am I bloody squatting?

            BLACKNESS. 

            The SOUND of a heartbeat.

            EXT. SUICIDES ANONYMOUS.  - NIGHT

            A small shop entrance. Window beside it. MISTS into view. A
            notice on its window

            "SUICIDES ANONYMOUS" "Phone Donga-Donga 2679"

            INT. SUICIDES ANONYMOUS-1. - NIGHT

            Inside the small room.  

            Joe, (50), sits at a desk. Suit and tie. Very authoritarian -
            looking, An empty chair on the opposite side of the desk.
            Fiddles with the cheap LCD watch on his wrist. 

            MAN-1 enters. Self-conscious. In despair.

                                MAN-1 
                      Hello.

                                JOE
                          (smiling)
                      Sit down. 
                          (indicates the empty chair)

            MAN-1 sits. Nervous but totally in despair and whingeing.

                                JOE
                      What's the problem?

                                MAN-1 
                      "They" are going to take it all off me.
                      I've lost my job, "downsized", "They"
                      said. "No focus", they said. "Outplaced"

            Joe  purses  his  lips.  Shakes his  head.  Very sympathetic.
            He's been there, done that.

                                MAN-1 (cont'd)
                      Only one thing left to do.
                          (grovels -- hesitates)
                      Kill myself...
                          (starts sobbing)

                                JOE
                          (compassionately hypnotically)
                       No, just look here,

            He holds out his arm, pulls up his sleeve, the LCD watch --

                                JOE (cont'd)
                      see it pulsing.....pulsing, .......feel
                      your heart pulsing with it......your life
                      pulsing with it......

            MAN-1 looks.  Then slowly calms.

                                JOE (cont'd)
                      ....pulsing, ..........so calm, .... so
                      quiet.

            MAN-1 very calm. Hypnotised.

                                JOE (cont'd)
                      Now, you ARE important........

            The SOUND of a heartbeat.

            INT. SUICIDES ANONYMOUS-2. - NIGHT

            The previous scene. Changes to REPEAT itself. With a
            DIFFERENT MAN. 

            REPEATS with MANY DIFFERENT MEN. Faster and FASTER.

            INT.  POLICE WAGON INTERIOR-26. - DAY

            BACK TO:	Joe lying on the floor of the wagon. Shot in the
            head. Dying. Blood SPURTS from the hole in his head. 
            Synchronised  with  his  heart-rate.  

            Bruce statuesque. Frozen in mid-reach. 

            MUSIC. Suitable for the occasion. Mystical.  

            P.O.V.;  Joe. Another SPURT of blood past our eyes. From the
            hole in our head. Bruce reaching down to us. In earth - time.
            Motionless.

                                JOE (V.O.)
                          (calmly)
                      It is true! I re - live myself. 
                          (beat)
                      Experience the most important things I
                      should have taken notice of,... 
                          (beat)
                      should have learned from! 
                          (beat)
                      See all the people as they really are,
                      not what they're pretending to be! 
                          (beat)
                      There's no pain! 
                          (beat)
                      Look at him, I must be outside of earth
                      time, he's like a frozen statue!

            Bruce MISTS. 

            The SOUND of a heartbeat.

            INT.  AIRPORT FIRST CLASS LOUNGE-2. - DAY

            The airport First-Class lounge. As before. 

            WAITRESS, PEOPLE abound. As yet O.S.  

            Dave and Joe, (50), sit at a table. Dave O.S.

                                DAVE (O.S.)
                      Look around.

            Joe looks around.

                                DAVE (cont'd) (O.S.)
                      Apart from the uniforms, who do you think
                      are Public Servants?

            Joe confused, astounded, cannot believe what he sees. 

            ALL PUBLIC SERVANTS ARE COMPLETELY NUDE. 

            Normal people aren't.  Normal people very few but still  have
            incomplete attire.

                                DAVE (cont'd)
                          (holding out a "Gold Card")
                      And they've all got Gold Cards.

            He grins, drinks his drink then querulously;

                                DAVE (cont'd)
                      Wonder where our money goes?

            Joe dumfounded. 

            Dave has only underpants on. 

            Joe looks down. The floor COVERED with one hundred-dollar
            bills.

                                DAVE (cont'd) (V.O.)
                      Wonder where our money goes? 
                          (beat, faster, louder)
                      Wonder where our money goes? 
                          (beat, faster, louder)
                      Wonder where our money goes? 
                          (beat. faster, louder)
                      Wonder where our money goes?

            BLACKNESS. 

            The SOUND of a heartbeat.

            INT. POLICE WAGON INTERIOR-27. - DAY

            BACK TO:	Joe lying on the floor of the wagon. 

            P.O.V. Joe.;   Another SPURT of blood past our eyes. From the
            hole in our head. Bruce leaning towards us. Statuesque. Stuck
            in earth - time.

            INT. MEETING BOARDROOM-3. - DAY

            A medium-sized meeting room. 

            Dave and Joe, (50), sit around the table. Other chairs empty.

                                DAVE 
                      You'll have to go to the "MEW", the
                      Management Education Week. There's no-one
                      else available. I'm off to UK, Bob's off
                      to Japan, with Jeff, so it's you.

            Joe shows concern. Worry.

                                DAVE (cont'd)
                          (beat, consoling)
                      You'll be alright. Brian Suit couldn't
                      stand that arsehole Neville, so he got a
                      transfer to Corporate. He's running the
                      "MEW"s. And talking about that arsehole,
                      Neville, look,

            He holds up a thick wad of paper, flicks through it, finds
            something and reads;

                                DAVE (cont'd)
                      This is what his monthly report to Ken
                      says, "I analysed the mechanical design
                      of the mechanism and made 22 design
                      changes. This will allow significant
                      downcost attainment......"
                          (shakes his head)

                                JOE
                          (sadly)
                      What a bloody lying Wally!

            Bob enters the room. Adjusts himself. To the left. 

            He SHIMMERS. Stands there. NUDE. Adjusting himself. To the
            right. To the left. Coughing violently.

            HE has NO male genitalia!!  

            HE SLOWLY turns to cigarette - smoke. 

            BLACKNESS. 

            The SOUND of a heartbeat.

            INT. POLICE WAGON INTERIOR-28. - DAY

            BACK TO:	Joe lying on the floor of the wagon. 

            Joe P.O.V.;  Another SPURT of blood past our eyes. From the
            hole in our head. Bruce frozen in time.

            The SOUND of a heartbeat.

            INT. HOTEL DESK.  - DAY

            A good hotel. The foyer. Empty. Early. 

            DESK LADY does her things. At reception desk. 

            The clock above her indicates 8:45.  Analogue. 

            The Announcement Board. Displayed on it;

            "THE COMPANY","MEW","MANAGEMENT EDUCATION WEEK"

            "Location Gold Meeting Room". Commencement 12 noon"

            Joe,  (50), enters.  Suitcase. Grey slacks.  Grey "modern,
            young - looking - style" coat. Walks to reception desk.
            Speaks to Desk Lady.

                                JOE
                          (smiling, self - consciously)
                      Good morning. I'm here for the "Company", 
                      Management Education Week. 
                          (prepares to hand her a credit
                           card)

                                DESK LADY 
                          (smiling, refuses the card)
                       Good morning, 
                          (smiling beat)
                       name?

                                JOE
                      Nobody, Joe.

            The SOUND of a heartbeat.

            The DESK LADY shimmers to; 
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