Emma
INT: KEYPUNCH ROOM (DAY)
A small acoustically tiled room filled with THUNDEROUS RACKET. Two women at the far end of the room peck intermittently at their keypads. Their mouths move occasionally in conversation, but we can hear nothing above the machine clatter.
In the foreground, EMMA KLIEGHAUSER sits HUNCHED at her machine. She is the source of the relentless din, swaying from side to side as she generates it. From behind, she puts us in mind of a stock figure from the old horror movies, belting out crazed Bach on the pipe organ.
To call Emma HOMELY would be to understate the problem. She has an unnaturally broad and misshapen back. She is somewhat slackjawed; one corner of her mouth turns up in a faint but perpetual grin; there is an odd expression about her eyes. Though we might not know what to call it, we can see that she suffers from some sort of CONDITION.CUT TO
JOHN CRANNUM entering the room with some papers in his hand. He is in his mid-twenties, and has a frazzled but thoughtful look. Ignoring the two women who are obviously less busy, he goes to Emma's work area and waits silently.
EMMA
(between keystrokes)
Here comes trouble.JOHN
Nothin' but.
(He grins)EMMA
So what have you got for me today? More of those crazy-looking special cards of yours?
JOHN
Uh-huh. Here's what this batch looks like.
John spreads the papers out in Emma's work area. She stops keying. She looks down at the sheets. Then she looks long and hard at John.
EMMA
You deserted me.
CUT TO
The two other women's faces, peering over...
EMMA
Two mornings in a row now, I looked for you at the bus stop, and you weren't there.
JOHN
I moved, Emma. I told you about it, remember?
EMMA
Now I don't have nobody to talk to on that long ride. Today this big old smelly man sat next to me. Where did you move to?
JOHN
It's a couple of miles from here. It's a lot better apartment. It's got a pool, lots of trees...
Emma smiles politely, then looks down at the sheets.
EMMA
So when do you want this? Do you want to wait for it?
JOHN
Thanks, Emma.
Emma pulls cards out of her machine; puts fresh ones in; tinkers; starts lickety-split to work. As she thunders along, John catches sight of something in her work area--a colorful PICTURE CUBE.
JOHN
Hey, this is new.
Emma nods and continues working. John picks up the PICTURE CUBE for a closer look.
He finds that there are no snapshots of Emma's own. The pictures are all tritely posed shots of professional models--just the packaging that came with the frame.
JOHN
Emma, these are the pictures that were in it in the store!
EMMA
Uh-huh.
John looks at her in puzzlement.
EMMA
I thought they were cute...
CUT TO
The PICTURES in the plastic CUBE. There is a shot of a HANDSOME MAN. There is another of a MAN WITH AN ATTRACTIVE WOMAN. There is a BABY. There is a WHOLE FAMILY with a DOG in front of a HOUSE.
CUT TO
John Crannum's eyes reacting as they move from the PICTURE CUBE to Emma, with her DISFIGURING CONDITION.
JOHN
Uh, I guess I'll just stop back in a little while for these...
Emma continues keying. From her face, with its perpetual, unintended half-grin, it is impossible to tell just what she is thinking or feeling.
(c) COPYRIGHT 1985 ROBERT WINTER. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.