KNIGHT RIDER 2000
35 INT. TRAUMA CENTER – NIGHT
as double doors slam open with Shawn’s gurney; she’s being raced down the hallway by several MEDICAL TECHNICIANS. A Velcro strap attached to Shawn’s wrist has wires rising to an antenna, with one of the technicians holding a portable gas plasma monitor. Her head is covered in bandages. Kurt is paralleling them, deeply worried. DR. JEFFREY GLASSMAN appears.
B.P. eighty over fifty and dropping.
Anything on the CAT?
Brain waves present, but there’s damage.
You’ll have to wait here.
They bang through another set of doors labeled ICU – AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY, leaving Kurt in the dust. At the same moment, Commissioner Daniels appears with her Assistant. Following behind are several of Shawn’s concerned fellow cops, including Strand. Hedges is in the pack as well, extremely nervous.
Is she alive?
Daniels marches past Kurt into the ICU ROOM, her Assistant in tow. We go inside with her, finding Shawn now being hooked up into a very sophisticated bank of computerized stabilizers. Daniels flashes her credentials – a holographic image of a gold badge.
As an employee of the city, she’s turned her rights over to me. I’m authorizing you to read her RNA.
RNA is a risky procedure…there’s still a chance we can save her.
We need to find out who did this, Doctor. Believe me, she’d want us to know.
Glassman returns to his team.
Prepare for RNA transfer.
TIGHT ON SHAWN’S HEAD
as the top bandages are peeled back to expose her pate. The buzz of an electric razor precedes the instrument…then Shawn’s long beautiful hair gets shaved to the base of her scalp.
TIGHT ON RNA PROBES
inside a sterile container. Four inc, needle-thin steel rods, with a small computer chip at the end of each. A latex-gloved hand lifts the first one out, moving to Shawn’s now-bald head. A transparency light flicks on above her, projecting the exact replica of Shawn’s cerebral hemisphere onto her bare skull.
Insert probe one into the optic nerve, two and three into the hemispherical memory regions.
The first needle positions itself. Just as its about to penetrate her cranium…
TIGHT ON X-RAY MONITOR
looking at a high contrast video replica of Shawn’s cranium as the needle pierces her skull and lodges in the brain tissue. Though we are spared the sight in reality, it’s still a squirmer to witness.
leaves the ICU room, entering a control booth just beyond which looks like a NASA command center in smaller form. He sits behind the console, activating several buttons. A large high-definition monitor blinks on above him.
TECHNICIAN (INTERCOM V.O.)
Probe insertion completed, Doctor.
36 INT. ICU ROOM – SIMULTANEOUS
As the Technicians take a step back. ADJUST into a tight shot of Shawn’s face. Nothing. Then suddenly her facial muscles twitch violently, almost like a chorus of nervous ticks.
37 INT. CONTROL BOOTH – SIMULTANEOUS
TIGHT on Glassman’s eyeglasses as images reflect back at us from his screen.
Bizarre, fluid-like visions defying time and space, mixed with crisp reality, fill the screen. We’re watching Shawn’s memory, sometimes in color, sometimes not….
A fourth birthday party. Her FATHER places a cake in front of her.
Happy birthday, Shawn.
Four year-old Shawn blows out the candle and when the smoke clears, Kurt’s face appears on the surface of the cake.
Happy birthday, Shawn.
Suddenly the cake becomes a dance floor and:
Shawn is seventeen, dancing at her senior prom was the lights and music continue. A “Class of 1991” banner hangs overhead. She leans in and kisses her nice-looking DATE.
SHAWN AT SEVENTEEN
I love you.
Then a QUICK FLASH of Shawn at her surprise party, emotionally addressing her fellow cops.
I love all you guys.
The image instantly loses its color and begins to blur…
38 INT. WAITING AREA – NIGHT
Comm. Daniels is pacing, the other cops stoic as Glassman approaches. They all uncomfortably await the Doctor’s verdict.
The injury appears to have destroyed a cluster pattern in her cerebrum. In simple terms, she’s lost her most recent memory.
Hedges internally sighs.
But there is good news – the RNA confirmed we can save her life by performing a fragmentary cerebral transplant. Of course, I’ll need your authorization.
Kurt nods to himself, relieved, not noticing Daniels’ Assistant who’s busily punching figures into his wrist calculator. The Assistant feeds Daniels information via a discreet whisper. Daniels nods, then glances at the other cops in the room.
Doctor, may we speak in private?
39 INT. DR. GLASSMAN’S OFFICE – THIRTY SECONDS LATER
As he shuts the door, now alone with Daniels and her Assistant.
There is certifiable doubt as to how she’ll function after the operation, if at all, isn’t that true?
Yes, there’s always a degree of incertitude with procedures such as this. But I’m extremely confident.
Have you ever performed one of these before?
No, but I’ve logged ninety hours on the surgical simulator. She’s a textbook case – perfect for me.
Some careful consideration, then:
I have no choice but to decline.
An uncomfortable pause.
Commissioner…what you’re saying in effect is to terminate life support.
Don’t think I feel the slightest bit good about this decision…
(Asst. shows her calculator figures)
…But our budget deficit is already in the high seven figures. We literally cannot afford it based on the risk.
I’m urging you to reconsider.
Your career advancement will have to wait until the next victim rolls in, Doctor Glassman. My decision is final.
She and her Assistant exit. HOLD on Glassman’s angry face.
40 INT. ICU ROOM – MINUTES LATER
As Dr. Glassman returns to his staff, Shawn stabilized on the table. A moment, then he comes to a decision.
We’re going ahead with the transplant.
41 INT. PENTHOUSE OFFICE – DAY
Overlooking a magnificent panorama of the city. It’s a beautiful view until Johnny Watts steps into the frame.
Ladies and gentlemen, we’re about to expand.
Slowly PULL BACK to find he’s standing at the head of a long narrow conference table.
I, like you, believe in the Constitutional right for all citizens to bear firearms, not just the criminals. It’s time to go statewide and beyond.
Faces start to appear on both sides. Familiar faces. Hedges. Partner Strand. Many we saw in the locker room, as well as Shawn’s birthday party. Her supposed friends.
Self protection was a principle this country was founded on – I see nothing wrong with continuing that philosophy while getting very rich in the process. What about you?
Rumblings of agreement. Camera finally arrives at the table’s end…where one last unexpected face appears. Kurt Miller, Shawn’s ex-partner. He isn’t quite as endorsing.
I don’t remember murder as part of our forefathers’ philosophy, Mr. Watts.
An eye for an eye certainly was.
The former Mayor was responsible for our handguns getting banned, Miller. The bad guys? They still have ‘em. Six of us have already bought it this year, and all we can do is buzz ‘em back!
They told us the ban would help. They lied.
A chorus of agreement.
Some of those guns have already fallen into the wrong hands – how are we supposed to keep track if we expand?
Wise up Officer. If criminals don’t buy from us, they’ll just go elsewhere.
This is getting out of control… and shooting my partner was never part of the deal.
Neither was her interference at the Space Needle.
I planned on bringing her in eventually. It was just too soon.
I’d say it was too late. She was your responsibility…and still is.
Her memory’s gone. She’s out of the equation.
What about this new freelance department? They could really screw things up for us.
There’s way too much tension in this room…
They won the franchise based on a flashy car which won’t even be finished by the time their contract expires.
Watts moves back to his window, gazing down at the insect-sized people and cars far below.
Trust me, they’re no problem at all.
42 EXT. CITY STREET – DAY
People and cars but far from tiny at this ground-level angle. A red dot appears way down the road. Getting bigger…and faster. It’s close enough now to be recognized from the product reel seen in Mayor Abbey’s office; somehow the KNIGHT 4000 makes everything else seem in slow-motion. Cars stop for a signal, the opposing traffic moving….but the aerodynamic vehicle blurs right through the red light. Two cars SWERVE to advoid it, BROADSIDING EACH OTHER.
43 INT. KNIGHT FOUNDATION – COMMUNICATIONS CENTER –SAME TIME
As Devon walks past a dozen TECHNICIANS manning various stations, which include a computer terminal area and a bank of HDTV monitors covering news and commercials around the world. We catch bits and pieces as we move with him…
President Quayle has successfully negotiated a peace treaty with England. The advent of hydrogen algae farms which now produce non-polluting fuel has brought oil prices to under ten cents a barrel. Smoking in any public place is now a misdemeanor. Health Control Toilet Systems allow consumers to inexpensively run urine and other tests in the privacy of their own bathroom…..
Devon proceeds past the communications console just as a female technician, SANDY, removes color-coded data from her printer bin. She heads off Devon.
This just came in on the fiber optic –case files from the municipal mainframe which I’ve cross-referenced and graphed.
Good work, Sandy.
Devon continues on, Sandy returning to her station.
44 INT. MADDOCK’S OFFICE – CONTINUOUS
As Devon enters, Maddock wrapping up a video call.
(into video phone)
I don’t want to hear excuses – the 4000 is already two weeks behind. Kick that distributor’s butt or I’ll have to kick yours.
TECHNICIAN (ON VIDEO PHONE)
Maddock blinks him off.
I’m glad to see company morale is a priority of yours.
Not as much as cinching our contract. We need results.
I think we have some.
He places Sandy’s documents on Maddock’s desk.
It’s an inventory of evidence seized over the last two years, all relating to handgun crimes. Notice how the percentage of Sig Sauer automatics has gone up since the Mayor was shot?
Maddock looks it over. Then appraises Devon.
You’re not thinking what I think you’re thinking…
I’ll admit police involvement is an unlikely possibility, but every prospect should be checked out.
Compared to what I said to Daniels, this is a slap in her face. I’m impressed, Devon.
I’m not saying we don’t handle this gingerly.
I’d like to put Michael on it – he’s wrapping up tests on K.I.T.T. as we speak.
45 INT. KNIGHT WAREHOUSE – DAY
As the Knight 4000 flies between the doors, coming straight for:
MICHAEL’S PARKED VOLVO
with Michael inside of it. The red bullet suddenly LOCKS ITS BRAKES AND SLIDES INTO A 180, parking itself parallel with Michael’s ten year old sedan.
Michael gathers himself; a voice speaks to him from the Volvo dash which now very much resembles the old K.I.T.T. dash. K.I.T.T. has become a bastardized version of his old Volvo. Even the old chaser light front has been modified into the Volvo grille.
Pardon me, Michael, but who’s the idiot driving that ostentatious vehicle?
Michael doesn’t answer, he’s too pissed. He climbs from the “new” K.I.T.T., approaching the Knight 4000.
Listen pal, I think you’d better…
He throws open the door of the 4000 but there’s nobody inside. The car has been driving itself. Michael looks up, spotting Maddock and Devon on an upper level. Devon is frowning; Maddock smiling.
What do you think, Mr. Knight?
That was a pretty stupid thing for that car to do.
Hardly – the auto maneuvering stem is fully functional…
And the paint job is spectacular. All you need now is a motherboard that operates with some common sense.
I’ll admit there are glitches to be worked out. For one thing, it has a tendency to run red lights if it calculates a collision factor of .7 or below.
Great. Another car with an attitude.
You’d have a disposition too if you suddenly went from state of the art to this. I may not catch every criminal now but I’ll sure be able to carry a lot of groceries.
I take it K.I.T.T. is ready for a demonstration.
My heart’s pounding.
46 EXT. DOWNTOWN STREET – DAY
WHIP-PAN with the black Volvo sedan as it speeds past us. It’s just not the same as the old K.I.T.T. we knew and loved. And certainly a far cry from the Knight 4000.
47 INT. K.I.T.T. – SAME TIME
Michael’s behind the wheel, Devon shotgun. Maddock rides in the rear. Michael’s actually looking a little better with a haircut and shave.
Amazing power you get out of those rodents under the hood.
Not to mention the one in the backseat.
Can we table this for awhile? K.I.T.T., demonstrate auto cruise mode.
Michael lets go of the wheel; it begins driving itself. Devon nods; Maddock is not impressed.
Every new Mercedes can do the same thing.
Suddenly K.I.T.T.’s VIDEO DISPLAY beeps. A criminal photo with relevant data pops onto it; a rude-looking white guy with a buzz cut.
We’ve been scanning bar codes.
Come up with something?
The green coupe idling in front of that ATM is registered to a Tod Moore, whom you’ll find on my monitor.
(glances at monitor)
I see he’s currently wanted for drug trafficking and murder.
Maddock blinks; Devon doesn’t.
I doubt every new Mercedes can do this.
48 EXT. DOWNTOWN STREET – SIMULTANEOUS
Sure enough, a green coupe is parked in front of a Ready Teller outlet, its barcode license plate clearly visible.
A suspicious looking man stands at the outlet, his back to us. He fits the image we just saw on K.I.T.T.’s screen.
K.I.T.T. pulls up right behind him. ADJUST into a view through the Volvo’s side windows.
He’s withdrawing a large sum of cash…approximately ten thousand six hundred. Would you like me to electronically disable the man’s vehicle?
A brief LOW FREQUENCY HUM. The green coupe’s engine chugs to a stop. RISE above the Volvo as the suspect heads for his car.
Now stun him.
Just as the man reaches for his door, WHOOSH! As a sound not unlike the police Ultrasound guns discharges. The suspect falls against his car, his cash scattering in the wind. Michael, Devon and Maddock instantly hop out of the Volvo as Michael rushes up to him, spinning the pained man around.
You’re under arrest, pal.
They all stare at him…but he’s not the guy on K.I.T.T.’S monitor, not by a hundred yards. It’s BRIAN BOZWORTH, former star linebacker of the Seattle Seahawks. His hair’s still short but a tad gray nnow; a bit of a paunch due to the retired life too. K.I.T.T. pulls up alongside.
Shall I Mirandize him?
K.I.T.T…..it’s the Boz.
Brian Bozworth, you idiot. Former linebacker on the Seahawks.
…Recovered the fumble…..
Maddock, I’m very angry about this.
You obviously substituted a bogus chip in my memory. I want my old chip back.
…I got the yen….for first and ten…
Devon closes his eyes.
49 INT. POLICE DEPARTMENT – DAY
A pair of PROSTITUTES are being laser-fingerprinted. A FELON is having a scanner run over his face, the mug shot instantly appearing on a monitor with pertinent data. A tearful woman is being interviewed by a desk cop….
Business as usual. Until Shawn McCormick walks in the door, back in uniform. The new Shawn…with a short, very interesting year-2000 haircut and a no-nonsense cadence. Something about her is very different; for one, the warmth and innocence are gone. But it’s more than that, which we’ll soon be discovering. Heads start to turn, whispers exchanged.
KURT sees her, a mixture of admiration and guilt hitting him. He’s standing by the automated coffee machine with Hedges and Strand, who find no dichotomy at all in their feelings – they’d prefer it if she were dead. Shawn walks toward them.
How are you?
Her voice is perfunctory at best. She marches by without waiting for Kurt’s response.
She bothers me. Bad.
50 INT. COMM. DANIELS’ OFFICE – DAY
She’s going over some paperwork with her trust Assistant when Shawn barges in, unannounced.
I’d like a few minutes of your time, Commissioner.
They’re instantly uncomfortable. A second later, Daniels’ male SECRETARY quickly enters, quite flustered.
It’s all right, Andrew.
The Secretary nods, exiting.
We’re happy to see you back, Officer McCormick. You must have plenty of questions – if you’d like, I can ask Andrew to…
I understand you ordered the plug pulled on me.
The new Shawn minces no words. The Assistant discreetly enters something into his wrist CPU.
That’s not perfectly accurate. There were financial considerations at work, and…
My memory might be impaired by I assure you nothing else is.
I want to find the creep who shot me. Re-assign me to my old unit.
I can’t do that. Technically, you shouldn’t even have a desk job after what happened.
Neither should you, considering your profound lack of judgment.
The Assistant’s fingers excitedly dance over his wristband.
Officer, I really think this discussion is…
Anti-capital punishment for criminals but pro-euthanasia for your own cops? You know something, you might actually benefit from a bullet in the head as well.
The Assistant’s fingers stop cold at this one. Daniels’ patience quotient has just been topped off.
McCormick, you’ve just guaranteed yourself….
Don’t bother. I quit.
She turns and exits. Shawn pauses just outside the door, bewildered by what has just transpired. She squeezes her eyes shut, feeling a massive headache hitting her.
51 INT. DRUG STORE – DAY
As Shawn steps up to the elderly PHARMACIST, placing a large bottle of the Advil equivalent, MOVIL on the counter. She’s now in street clothes. He bags up the pills.
Afternoon, Officer, McCormick. How was your first day back?
My last. Put this on my charge, will you?
I’m not sure.
She exists, as confused as the Pharmacist. A suspicious looking TRANSIENT comes walking in the side door. Shawn hesitates, intuitively ducking behind a shelf. Sure enough, the Transient nervously glances around, thinks he’s alone, and PULLS OUT A PISTOL.
Empty the register, old man. Now.
The frightened Pharmacist discreetly steps on a floor mat switch, then immediately obeys.
instinctively moves like a panther through the aisles as:
hastily collects his bag of cash, waving his gun indiscriminately, backing away. He spins for a fast retreat and comes face to face with Shawn, leveling his barrel on her…but lightning quick she knocks it from his hand, almost with machine precision.
You stupid bitch…
He recoils a fist at her face, which she deftly dodges, then BAM! BAM! BAM! as Shawn delivers TWO JABS AND A WELL-PLACED KICK, the final blow sending him BACK-FIRST INTO A GLASS DISPLAY CASE. The Pharmacist stares at her with wide-eyes; Shawn sees the look on his face, then it hits her too. Who is this new person living inside her body? Shawn spots the Transient’s handgun…which happens to be another 9mm Sig Sauer. She stares at it long and hard. Sirens can be heard pulling up.
I wasn’t here, okay?
The shaken Pharmacist nods as Shawn heads out the back door. A beat, then a pair of POLICE OFFICERS barge in with Ultrasounds drawn. They immediately spot the unconscious Tranient, framed in the shattered isplay case like the Terminator took care of him. Their eyes go back to the frail Pharmacist, who subtly flexes his fists.
He shoulda known better than to fool with me.
52 INT. MADDOCK’S OFFICER – DAY
Maddock sits behind his desk, Devon on a couch nearby. Both are looking over a resume.
We’re fully staffed at this time, but we’ll keep your resume on our database. Thanks for coming in.
Shawn sits opposite them. She’s making no motions to leave.
I’m more than what’s on that piece of paper. Give me a chance – I promise I won’t let you down.
May I be blunt? Rookies don’t make good cops, and good cops don’t get fired. Now if you’ll excuse us…
I quit, and if you’d done your homework you’d know why. I on the other hand know all about you, Mr. Maddock: illustrious former D.A. with a 95.6 percent conviction rate. Never married with a track record of dating blondes considerably younger. You play single-only tennis with a winning percentage of 98.2 because you always select opponents who’ll provide adequate competition but not enough to beat you. Your most recent loss was to a woman, incidentally. Shall I go on?
Maddock is too stunned to speak. Devon smiles, very impressed.
I have a feeling your knowledge of our operation is tantamount, Ms. McCormick.
So is my familiarity with the handgun cases, which I memorized and correlated in their entirety prior to my resignation.
Maddock studies her carefully.
You’ve got a chip in your head, don’t you?
Memory chip transplants are not uncommon today.
This may work out fine – Mr. Maddock has one on his shoulder.
You’ve got a hidden agenda, lady. Why do you really want to work for us?
I was shot point-blank in the head and I’d like to nail the son of a bitch who did it. That’s my agenda – what’s yours?
Maddock has no immediate answer. There’s a brief knock, then Michael enters, speaking before he realizes they have company.
Good news: I located K.I.T.T’S missing chip.
That’s the bad news – it was sold to the RNA Trauma Center and ended up in some policewoman’s head.
A pregnant pause. Maddock and Devon swap glances, looking at Shawn.
Michael…meet the missing chip.
Michael stares at Shawn, reacting, and:
COMPUTER FREEZE/BLACK OUT.
END OF ACT TWO