WATCH ME

screenplay by C. Taylor

“WATCH ME”

 

screenplay

by

c.l.taylor

 

 

INT. OFFICE – EARLY MORNING

 

Vacant. Quiet. Dark.

There are no cubicles.

Funky modern art (large pieces) adorns the walls.

Above the corner desk hangs a 1920’s-style train station clock.

The clock reads 6:15

Long workstation desks feature dual monitors and Eames-style, mid century chairs.

A corporate logo (a large stylized “C”) swirls on several screens, acting as a screensaver.

 

A distant mechanical ding sounds, signaling the arrival of an elevator.

 

 

INT. HALLWAY

 

A woman emerges from the elevator.

MAREN’s head is down as she reads a breaking news story on the smart phone she holds in her right hand.

She attempts to juggle a coffee and laptop case in her left.

Her hair, chestnut brown and bobbed, obscures her face.

She is bundled up, the shoulders of her coat damp.

Maren stops momentarily, her laptop case between her legs.

She sends the article to her email, for later reading.

 

 

INT. OFFICE – DAY

 

Maren sits at the corner desk, the only one with an unobstructed view of the city through large windows.

 

She flicks a mouse, wakes her computer.

Her bag is pushed beneath her desk.

 

Time lapse of Maren’s day.

People come and go, passing behind and around.

Maren stays focused on her work – a 3D model of a new product – she barely moves.

 

INT. OFFICE – NIGHT

 

People begin to leave.

 

Maren’s hands move deftly, utilizing a Wacom-style tablet to draw on screen. She doesn’t seem to notice she is now alone.

 

The office is vacant.

The NIGHT sky is dark.

The lights are coming up across the city.

 

The clock reads 6 p.m.

The clock reads 7 p.m.

The clock reads 10 p.m.

 

Maren looks up from her computer screens.

She squints, struggling to focus her eyes.

She removes her thick frame Rayban-style glasses and lays them with a click on the surface of her desk.

She rubs her eyes.

Stretches.

She takes in the view of the city at NIGHT her eyes vacant.

Her eyes wander to the clock.

Surprised, she flicks off her monitors.

 

Maren shrugs into her dark blue pea coat.

She pushes in her chair.

 

 

INT. HALLWAY – NIGHT

 

Maren pushes the button to call the elevator.

Her hand rises to push up her glasses, but they’re not there.

 

 

INT. OFFICE – NIGHT

 

Maren swipes her glasses from her desk.

A distant mechanical ding sounds, signaling the arrival of an elevator.

 

 

CUT TO:

 

INT. HALLWAY – NIGHT

 

The doors to the elevator open.

The doors remain open for a few moments.

The doors begin to close.

 

CUT TO:

 

INT. ELEVATOR – NIGHT

 

A hand moves quickly between the elevator doors.

The doors part.

Maren steps inside.

She is out of breath.

Her glasses are sliding down her nose.

Inside, Maren presses the button for the lobby.

She takes a deep breath as the elevator doors close.

 

CUT TO:

 

INT. LOBBY – NIGHT

 

A grand lobby open to the six floors above.

Cement walls give way to lush leather chairs and sofas.

A massive painting hangs over the security desk.

A lone security guard sits behind the desk.

He looks up when he hears the ding of the elevator.

He checks his watch.

His hand is moving behind the desk.

His head is bent, exposing a balding head.

In a spiral notebook, he logs the time.

He looks up again.

Waiting.

 

The clicking of heels on the stone floor.

Maren emerges from the elevator bank corridor.

She smiles and waves.

The guard waves back.

He looks down again, noting Maren’s name next to the time in his notebook.

 

 

EXT. STREET – NIGHT

 

Maren exits the building.

The streets are still moving with cars and taxis.

Its just rained.

 

Maren walks briskly, her hands in the pockets of her pea coat.

She turns up the collar.

She pushes up her glasses.

 

A couple, holding hands, passes her on the right.

They laugh as they pass.

 

Maren fumbles in her coat pocket, looking for something.

From her pocket, she extracts her smartphone.

She arrives at a street corner.

She pushes the crosswalk button.

She pushes it again.

She waits a moment.

Pushes it again, twice, quickly.

 

CUT TO:

 

Crosswalk sign with a big red NO.

Electrical buzzing.

 

 

CUT TO:

 

Maren waiting.

 

She pushes a button on the side of her smartphone.

The screen illuminates.

 

No messages.

No emails.

No missed calls.

The clock reads 10:15 p.m.

The screen goes black.

 

The crosswalk light illuminates to WALK.

 

Without looking, Maren steps from the street corner.

Preoccupied with her smartphone, she doesn’t see a taxi cab breezing through the light.

The taxi cab’s horn blares.

Scared, Maren grabs her chest and hurries back to the corner.

 

Looking both ways now, Maren again steps free of the corner.

Maren hurries to cross the street.

 

It starts to rain.

The rain turns to a downpour.

Maren quickens her pace.

 

 

EXT. ALLEY

 

A backlit figure comes into view.

Cars pass in both directions behind the shadowed figure.

The figure hesitates.

It turns.

It comes closer.

The figure is Maren.

She hesitates, her hand on her wrist, touching something there beneath the coat sleeve.

 

CUT TO:

 

Maren’s POV.

A dark alley spans before her.

 

It’s empty.

Isn’t it?

It’s quiet.

 

We see a plume of mist – Maren expels her breath.

 

The rain is sleeting.

She raises her left wrist, her right hand pushing back her sleeve.

There, on her wrist, is a mobile safety device.

It looks like a watch.

She depresses a button.

A blue light briefly flashes.

Once.

Twice.

It stays illuminated then begins to pulse.

 

 

MAREN

Watch me.

 

DEVICE

Watching…Maren.

Location…stored.

Time…stored.

Recording…now.

Watcher…connecting…connecting….connecting…

 

Her hands relax at her sides.

The watch disappears beneath her sleeve.

She takes a deep breath.

 

 

EXT. ALLEY

 

Maren pushes her hands into her pockets.

She waits.

 

CUT TO:

INT. OFFICE – NIGHT

 

Large, green block letters read WATCHERS.

 

Rows of cubicles.

Dozens of them.

Low voices.

The clicking of mechanical keyboards.

 

A name plaque which reads:

CLARK, RANDALL

hangs slightly askew against a gray carpeted cubicle wall.

 

A man sits before a computer screen.

He sips loudly from a black ceramic mug.

Steam rises from the mug, momentarily fogging the lenses of his glasses.

A light flashes, reflecting in the fog of his glasses.

The fog clears and we see his eyes.

Blue, slightly blood shot.

 

The monitor signals an incoming customer request.

 

CUSTOMER: JAMESON, MAREN ELIAS

LOCATION:    3rd & Pike

TIME: 10:16 p.m.

RECORDING: MEJ07282024

MONITOR: CLARK, RANDALL

 

From his desk, he takes a pair of cordless headphones.

He puts them on.

He positions the headset’s microphone close to his lips.

 

On his computer screen, a nearly shapeless shadow is at the North end of an alley.

The customer is shown as a heat signature, glowing red and orange.

 

Randall uses a rotary wheel on his keyboard to focus the image.

The shape comes into focus.

The shape is Maren.

 

He clears his throat.

 

Randall pushes a key on his keyboard which reads: ENGAGE

 

RANDALL

Ms. Jameson?

This is Randall Clark.

I’ll be your Watcher tonight.

 

MAREN

(sighs)

Thank you.

 

Randall pushes several button combinations on his keyboard.

Two additional live camera feeds are now displayed on his computer screen.

We see the reflection of the monitor in his glasses.

 

There are two –  not one – reddish/orange shapes displayed there.

 

 

RANDALL

Ms. Jameson?

 

MAREN

Yes?

 

RANDALL

I’m showing no additional heat signatures at this time.

Please proceed.

 

CUT TO:

 

EXT. ALLEY – NIGHT

 

Maren moves quickly through the alley.

The clicking of her shoes against the wet pavement echoes.

As she nears the end of the alley, a door opens.

The alley is flooded with light.

Everything is light and shadow.

Then, everything is dark as the door closes behind the intruder.

 

Maren stops.

 

Someone has entered the alley.

 

A solitary footfall.

Then another.

 

 

CUT TO:

INT. OFFICE – NIGHT

 

Randall sips loudly from his cup.

He finishes its contents.

He places the empty mug on his desk.

We can now read the motto emblazoned on its surface: WATCHER OF THE MONTH

 

In reflection, we see a flash.

The two heat signatures are unmoving.

One begins to back away from the other.

The second signature begins to move forward.

 

The first is quickly overtaken.

 

Randall’s right hand hovers over his keyboard.

Beneath his right index finger is a large red button.

It reads: INTERVENE

 

The heat signatures converge.

Randall’s finger falls on the red button.

 

9-11 OPERATOR

This is 9-11.

How may I direct your call?

 

RANDALL

This is Randall Clark.

Watcher number RC333-02.

Assault in progress.

3rd and Pike.

Female victim.

 

 

In the reflection of Randall’s glasses, we see the large orange figure diminish.

Randall moves a secondary rotary wheel.

He pushes a combination of buttons.

He hits enter.

 

The number “2” flashes.

It blinks.

 

An orange shape begins to move.

A yellow shape remains in its wake.

 

The number “1” flashes.

 

The yellow shape dims.

It turns pale.

 

 

EXT. ALLEY – NIGHT

 

Maren breathes shallowly.

Her left arm is extended away from her body.

Her thin wrist is free, exposed.

The wearable device is gone.

Her right hand is a mangled bloody mess.

Her glasses are broken down the middle, one half lies shattered on the pavement.

The other dangles from her ear

 

MAREN

Randall?

(she wheezes)

Are you there?

(she coughs)

 

RANDALL

Stay still.

Help is on the way.

 

MAREN

Help…me…

 

 

© c.l.taylor | 2014 | No duplication or reproduction without express written consent of author.

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One response to “WATCH ME

  1. Pingback: MY INDIE YEAR comes to an end | c.taylor·

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