Terminator2,未来战士续

英文片名: terminator 2

中文片名: 未来战士续 魔鬼终结者续

上映: 1991

-- terminator 2 script --

ext. city street - day 1

downtown l.a. noon on a hot summer day. on an extreme long lens the

lunchtime crowd stacks up into a wall of humanity. in slow motion they

move in herds among the glittering rows of cars jammed bumper to bumper.

heat ripples distort the torrent of faces. the image is surreal,

dreamy... and like a dream it begins very slowly to

dissolve to:

2 ext. city ruins - night 2

same spot as the last shot, but now it is a landscape in hell. the cars

are stopped in rusted rows, still bumper to bumper. the skyline of

buildings beyond has been shattered by some unimaginable force like a

row of kicked-down sandcastles. wind blows through the desolation,

keening with the sound of ten million dead souls. it scurries the ashes

into drifts, stark white in the moonlight against the charred rubble. a

title card fades in:

3 angle on a heap of fire-blackened human bones. beyond the mound is

a 3 vast tundra of skulls and shattered concrete. the rush hour

crowds burned down in their tracks.

4 we dissolve to a playground... where intense heat has half-melted

the 4 jungle gym, the blast has warped the swing set, the

merry-go-round has sagged in the firestorm. small skulls look

accusingly from the ash-drifts. we hear the distant echo of

children's voices... playing and laughing in the sun. a silly,

sing-songy rhyme as we track slowly over seared asphalt where the

faint hieroglyphs of hopscotch lines are still visible.

camera comes to rest on a burnt and rusted tricycle... next to the

tiny skull of its owner. hold on this image as a female voice

speaks: *

voice * 3 billion human lives ended on august 29th, * 1997. the

survivors of the nuclear fire called * the war judgment day. they

lived only to * face a new nightmare, the war against the *

machines... *

a metal foot crushes the skull like china.

tilt up, revealing a humanoid machine holding a massive battle rifle.

it looks like a chrome skeleton... a high-tech death figure. it is the

endoskeleton of a series 800 terminator. it's glowing red eyes

compassionlessly sweep the dead terrain, hunting.

terminator 2 - rev. 9/10/90 2

4 the sound of roaring turbines. searchlights blaze down as a 4

formation of flying hk (hunter-killer) patrol machines passes

overhead. pan with them toward the jagged horizon, beyond which

we see flashes, and hear the distant thunder of a pitched battle in

progress.

5 ext. battlefield - night 5

the battle. human troops in desperate combat with the machines for

possession of the dead earth. the humans are a ragtag guerrilla army.

skynet's weapons consist of the ground hks (tank-like robot

gun-platforms), flying aerial hks, four-legged gun-pods called

centurions, and the humanoid terminators in various forms.

sequence of rapid cuts: 5a explosions! beam-weapons firing like

searing strobe-lights. 5a* 5b a gunner in an armored personnel

carrier fires a law rocket at a pursuing 5b aerial hk, bringing it

down in a fiery explosion. 5c another apc is crushed under the treads

of a massive ground hk. 5c

5d a team of guerrillas in an intense fire-fight with terminator 5d

5e endoskeletons in the ruins of a building. three terminator

endoskeletons 5e* 5f advance, firing rapidly. another (complete

cyborg), with flesh ripped open 5f and back broken, gropes for a

rifle on the ground.

5g a centurion overruns a human firing position. soldiers are cut down

as they 5g run. fiery explosions light the ranks of advancing

machines.

6 in a blasted gun emplacement at the edge of battle, a man watches

6 the combat with night vision binoculars. he wears the uniform of

a guerrilla general, and a black beret. he is still amid running,

shouting techs and officers.

c.u. man, pushing slowly in as the battle rages o.s. he lowers the

binoculars. he is forty-five years old. features severe. the left

side of his face is heavily scarred. a patch covers that eye. an

impressive man, forged in the furnace of a lifetime of war. the name

stitched on the band of his beret is conner. we push in until his eyes

fill frame, then...

dissolve to

fire. slow roiling, enormous. filling frame. *

voice (sara conner) * skynet, the computer which controlled the *

machines, sent two terminators back through * time. their

mission: to destroy the leader of the * human resistance... john

conner. my son. *

the first terminator was programmed to strike * at me, in the year

1984... before john was born. * it failed. *

terminator 2 - rev. 9/10/90 3

6 voice (sara conner) 6* the second was set to strike at john himself,

* when he was still a child. as before, the * resistance was able

to send a lone warrior. a * protector for john. it was just a

question of * which one of them would reach him first... *

dissolve to: 7 ext. truckstop - night 7

wild fingers of blue-white electric arcs dance in a steel canyon formed

by two tractor trailers, parked side by side in the back lot of an all

night truck stop. then...

the strange lightning forms a circular opening in mid-air, and in the

sudden flare of light we see a figure in a sphere of energy. then the

frame whites out with an explosive thunderclap!

through the clearing vapor we see the figure clearly... a naked man.

terminator has come through. physique: massive, perfect. face:

devoid of * emotion. terminator stands and impassively surveys its

surroundings.

8 int. truck stop diner - night 8

on a back route north of l.a. a handful of local truckers hunch over

chili-sizes, cat hats pushed back on the heads. three bikers are

playing a game of pool in the back, their miller empties line the

table's rail. the dive's owner, lloyd, a fat, aging biker-type in a

soiled apron, stands behind the bar. nothing much going on...

then the front door opens and a big naked guy strolls in-- that doesn't

happen here every night. all eyes simultaneously swivel toward

terminator. it's emotionless gaze passes over the customers as it walks

calmly through the room. everyone freezes, not sure how to react.

8a terminator pov. a digitized electronic scan of the room, overlaid

with 8a alphanumeric readouts which change faster than the human

eye can follow. in pov we move past the staring truckers, past the

owner, and the awestruck waitress, and approach a large

nasty-looking biker puffing on a cigar. his body is outlined, or

'selected', and thousands of estimated measurements appear. his

clothing has been analyzed and deemed suitable...

8b terminator 8b i need your clothes, your boots, and your motorcycle.

the big biker's eyes narrow. he takes a long draw on his cigar,

getting the tip * cherry-red hot. cigar biker you forgot to say

please.

he grinds the cigar out on terminator's chest. which produces not the

slightest reaction of pain. terminator calmly, and without expression,

grabs cigar by his meaty upper arm... cigar screams from the hydraulic

grip.

8b terminator doesn't see cigar's friend, behind him, holding his pool

cue by the 8b narrow end like a louisville slugger. the heavy end

whistles in a powerful swing and cracks in two across the back of

terminator's head.

terminator seems not to notice. doesn't even blink. without releasing

his grip on cigar, he snaps his arm straight back and grabs pool cue by

the front of his jacket. suddenly the heavyset biker finds himself

flying through the nearest window. craassh!

terminator hurls cigar, all 230 pounds of him, clear over the bar,

through the serving window into the kitchen, where he lands on the big

flat grill. we hear a sound like sizzling bacon as cigar screams,

flopping and jerking. he rolls off in a smoking heap.

the third biker whips out a knife with an eight inch blade and slashes

at terminator's face.

terminator grabs the arcing blade with his bare hand. holding it by the

razor-sharp blade he jerks it from the guy's hand. ultra-fast here: he

flips it. grabs the handle like you're supposed to hold a knife. grabs

the biker and slams him face-down over the bar. then brings the knife

whistling down, pinning the biker's shoulder to the bar top with his own

steel.

9 int. kitchen 9

the door bangs open and terminator strides in. the mexican cook does a

fast fade as terminator walks toward cigar, who is cursing in pain on

the floor.

with his deep-fried fingers he struggles to get out the .45 auto tucked

under his leather jacket. but he can't even hold onto it. terminator

takes it from him. instead of pointing it at him, terminator carefully

examines the weapon, analyzing its caliber and operating condition.

terminator never threatens... that's a human thing. he just takes.

cigar senses what he must do when the emotionless eyes come back to him.

he slides the keys to his bike across the floor to terminator's foot.

then painfully starts getting out of his jacket.

10 int. truck stop 10

terminator strides from the kitchen, fully clothed now in a black

leather jacket, leather riding pants, and heavy cleated boots. he moves

toward the moaning biker pinned to the pool table. without slowing his

stride he jerks the knife out. the guy slumps to the floor, groaning,

behind him.

terminator continues toward the front of the diner, passing lloyd, the

owner. at the door, he comes abreast of two truckers who sit frozen

like a snapshot in mid bite. one of the truckers finally nods.

10 trucker 10 evening...

terminator impassively stares back. then moves on out the door.

11 ext. truck stop 11

terminator walks out, surveying the parked harleys. sticks the .45 in

his belt and swings one leg over a massive custom electro-glide. he

slips the dagger in his boot and the key in the ignition. kicks over

the engine. it catches with a roar and he slams the heavy iron into

gear with a klunk.

lloyd appears at the diner's door with a sawed-off 10 gauge winchester

lever-action shotgun. he fires into the air and jacks another round in

fast, aiming at terminator's back.

lloyd i can't let you take the man's bike, son. now get off or i'll put

you down!

terminator turns and considers him coldly. he eases the shifter up into

neutral. rocks the bike onto its kickstand. swings his leg over and

walks calmly toward the guy.

terminator strides right up to lloyd, staring straight into the

shotgun's muzzle. lloyd starts sweating, trying to decide if he's going

to kill a man in cold blood. he's still trying to decide when

terminator's hand blurs out like a striking cobra and is somehow

suddenly holding the shotgun.

lloyd gapes, knowing he is screwed. then... terminator reaches toward

him. oh shit... and slips the sunglasses out of lloyd's shirt pocket.

puts them on. strides back to the harley and roars off in a shower of

gravel.

12 ext. freeway - night 12

terminator roars down the freeway, heading into l.a. cold neon flares

across the chrome of the big bike. the 10 gauge is jammed through the

clutch and brake cables, across the handlebars. the lights flow over

terminator's wrap-around sunglasses like the tracks of tracer rounds.

cut to:

13 ext. street/ high school - night 13

a south-central l.a. high school. rusting chain link fences and

graffiti-covered buildings. an l.a.p.d. black-and-white cruises the

empty street.

a tremendous blue-white glare suddenly spills out between the buildings.

the young uniformed cop in the car whips his head around at the source

of the light. he pulls quickly into the school parking lot, in time to

see...

terminator 2 - rev. 9/10/90 6

13a the powerfully arcing electrical discharge reaches its peak between

two of the 13a buildings. lightning climbs the fire-escapes,

lighting up the night, and papers swirl in a blasting whirlwind.

13b the cop climbs from his cruiser as the glow fades. the schoolyard

is dark. 13b he sees vapor dissipating as he approaches the spot

where he saw the strange light. he draws his revolver and

cautiously moves into the shadows between two buildings.

a naked man glides from a shadowed doorway behind the cop. nothing

special about him. certainly not built like a terminator. the flash of

light and the fact that he is naked are pretty good clues that he just

arrived from the future. his features are handsome bordering on severe.

his eyes are gray ice. penetrating. intelligent.

the cop spins at a sound. too late. mr. x is already on him. the blow

is lightning fast and the cop drops like a bag of sand.

low angle as the unconscious cop hits the deck, his beretta 9mm

automatic clattering next to him. a hand enters frame and picks up the

pistol. cut to:

13c highly polished black shoes rounding the rear tire of the police

13c cruiser. follow the shoes to the cruiser's door then move up as

mr. x, dressed now in lapd blue, climbs behind the wheel. he looks

and acts exactly like a cop. cool, alert, confident in his power,

his expression emotionless and judgmental. mr. x, now officer x,

puts the car in gear and drives into the night.

cut to:

14 int. suburban house / garage - day 14

tight on young john conner, who at this moment is ten years old and busy

reassembling the carburetor on his honda 125 dirtbike. he has ripped

levi's and long stringy hair. a sullen mouth. eyes which reveal an

intelligence as sharp as a scalpel. the ramones' 'i wanna be sedated'

blasts from a boom box next to him.

a woman, janelle voight, stands in the doorway of the garage, yelling

over the music.

woman ...john? john! get in here right now and clean up that pigsty

of yours.

john's friend tim, a thirteen-year old hispanic kid, watches as john

replies * by turning up the volume on the boom box. janelle

gives up with a slam of the house's back door.

tim your foster parents are kinda dicks, huh?

14 john 14 gimme that phillips right there.

15 int. house - living room 15

janelle storms into the room. todd voight, her husband watches sports

on the tv. they're both in their thirties. middle class working

stiffs.

janelle i swear i've had it with that goddamn kid. he won't even answer

me. (neither does he) todd? are you gonna sit there or are you gonna

do something?

he sighs. throws down the tv's remote and heads for the garage.

16 int. garage 16

john hops on the bike. kick starts it. tim picks up john's nylon bag

then climbs on the back. todd enters and shouts over the engine, which

john revs louder and louder.

todd john! get your ass inside right now and do what your mother says!

john pins todd with a defiant glare.

john she's not my mother, todd!

he revs the engine and peels out of the garage, with tim almost falling

off the back. they take off down the street.

17 ext. vacant lot/ drainage canal 17

john cuts through a vacant lot to a trail running beside a fenced-in

drainage canal. he guns the bike through a hole in the retaining

fence. tim's eyes go wide as they roar down the concrete embankment.

17a in the drainage canal john zig-zags along, throwing up a roostertail

17a of muddy water. tim shouts, pretending he didn't just see his

life flash before his eyes. he slaps john on the back.

tim major moves, homes! so... where is your real mom, anyway? (john

doesn't answer) she dead or something?

it's hard to read john's expression.

17a john 17a she might as well be.

john twists the throttle angrily and the bike lunges forward.

cut to:

18 ext. pescadero state hospital - day 18

a sign on a chain link fence topped with concertina wire reads:

pescadero state hospital for the criminally insane. beyond it squats

an imposing four story building. institutional brick. barred windows.

about as inviting as kgb headquarters. security cars patrol the

manicured grounds.

19 int. hospital - maximum security wing 19

sunlight is a barred slash on the bare institutional wall. the room is

empty of all furnishings save the bed, a stainless steel sink, toilet,

and a dented metal mirror. we hear a rhythmic grunting, small

explosions of breath in perfectly metered time.

pan to a bedframe leaned upright against the wall, legs facing outward.

a pair of sweaty hands grip one leg. tendons knot and release as

someone does pullups. a mane of tangled hair hides the face that comes

into frame, dips out, comes back.

wider. a woman in a tank top and hospital pants is hanging from the top

leg of the vertical bedframe. her body is straight and taut. knees

bent so the feet clear the ground. the arms are lean and muscular.

the inmate, face hidden, pulls up, dips, pulls up. like a machine. no

change in rhythm.

20 int. hospital / corridor 20

figures move toward us down a corridor of polished tile and two-tone

walls. dr. peter silberman, a smug criminal psychologist, leads a group

of young interns. following, laconically, are three burly attendants.

silberman the next patient is a 29 year old female diagnosed as acute

schizo-affective disorder. the usual indicators... depression, anxiety,

violent acting-out, delusions of persecution. (the interns nod

judiciously) here we are.

silberman stops at one of the soundproof steel doors. there is a

two-way speaker beneath a tiny window. silberman flips the intercom

switch.

silberman's scrubbed and cheerful face at cell window. his voice comes

over the tinny speaker.

reverse angle as she turns slowly into close up. sara conner is not the

same woman we remember from last time. her eyes peer out through a wild

tangle of hair like those of a cornered animal. defiant and intense,

but skittering around looking for escape at the same time. fight or

flight. down one cheek is a long scar, from just below the eye to her

upper lip. her voice is a low and chilling monotone.

sara good morning, dr. silberman. how's the knee?

22 int. corridor 22

silberman's smug composure drops a second. then returns.

silberman fine, sara. (he switches off, speaks to the interns) she uh...

stabbed me in the kneecap with a screwdriver a few weeks ago.

sara watches them talking about her through the glass, but can't hear

them. she feels like a lab animal. the interns look in at her through

the glass as silberman talks. with her face drawn, eyes haggard and

hair wild, she looks like she belongs where she is.

silberman the delusional architecture is interesting. she believes a

machine called a 'terminator', which looks human of course, was sent

back through time to kill her. and also that the father of her child

was a soldier, sent to protect her... he was from the future too... (he

smiles) the year 2029, if i remember correctly. (the interns chuckle)

let's move on, shall we.

as the interns walk on, silberman steps close to douglas, the head

attendant, and speaks low.

silberman douglas, i don't like the patients disrupting their rooms like

this. see that she takes her thorazine, would you.

douglas is 6'4', 250 pounds and warmhearted as a rattlesnake. he nods,

catching silberman's meaning, and gestures for the other attendants to

hang back as silberman moves on in his rounds.

23 int. cell 23

sara looks up as the cell door opens. douglas walks in slow, idly

tapping his police baton against the door in an ominous rhythm. the

other two orderlies ease in behind him. one of them carries a stun

baton (like a sawed off cattle prod). the other has a tray with cups of

red liquid-thorazine

douglas time to take your meds, conner.

sara faces him, weight centered. feral eyes darting from one to the

other.

sara you take it.

douglas grins, casual--

douglas now you know you got to be good cause you up for review this

afternoon...

sara i'm not taking it. now i don't want any trouble...

douglas ain't no trouble at all--

he whips the baton in a whistling backhand which-- whap! takes her

square in the stomach. she doubles over and drops to her knees, unable

to breath. douglas tips the bed and it slams down with a crash, right

next to her. he takes the stun wand from the other attendant and walks

forward.

tight on sara, grimacing and struggling to breathe.

sara you... son of a... aaarrgh!!

the stun wand hits her between the shoulder blades as she tries to rise.

it drives her to the floor, pinning her like a bug. little electric

arcs crackle as the baton makes her writhe in pain. douglas grabs her

by the hair and jerks her up to her knees. holds the cup of thorazine

in front of her lips.

douglas last call, sugar.

gasping, she chokes the zombie juice down.

cut to:

24 ext. bank parking lot- day 24

john furtively hunches before a ready teller machine at the rear of a

local bank while his friend tim stands lookout. john slips a stolen atm

card into the machine's slot. it is something he's rigged up, because

trailing from the card is a ribbon-wire which goes to some kind of

black-box electronics unit he's got in his ever-present knapsack. he

holds the pack between his knees and pulls out a little lap-top

keyboard, which is also connected to the black-box.

john enters a few commands and the plasma-screen displays the pin number

for that account. he quickly enters the number on the ready teller's

key pad and asks it for 300 bucks. the machine whirs then begins

dispensing twenty dollar bills. tim looks back over his shoulder

amazed.

john easy money!

tim where'd you learn all this stuff?

john collects the twenties as the machine kicks them out. a cool and

professional electronic-age thief at ten years old.

john from my mom. my real mom, i mean. come on baby... (he grabs the

last bills) let's go!

they sprint around the corner to an--

25 ext. alley behind bank 25

they huddle behind the building as john counts out tim's share. he folds

five twenties and palms them to the other kid. when john opens his

wallet to put in his money, tim notices a picture in a plastic sleeve.

tim that her?

john reluctantly shows his friend the polaroid. it is a shot of sara.

pregnant, in a jeep near the mexican border. john doesn't know it now,

but he will carry that photo with him for over 30 years, and give it to

a young man named kyle reese, who will travel back in time to become his

father. yes, that photo.

tim so she's pretty cool, huh?

25 john 25 actually, no, she's a complete psycho. that's why she's

up at pescadero. she tried to blow up a computer factory, but she got

shot and arrested.

tim no shit?

john yeah, she's a total loser. c'mon let's check out the seven eleven,

whatya say?

john has tried to sound macho casual, but we see in his eyes that it

really hurts. he slaps tim on the shoulder and they jump onto his

honda. john fires up and they whine off down the alley.

cut to:

26 int. police cruiser - day 26

close on computer terminal, attached to the dash. a juvenile division

file. subject; john conner. below his arrest record are his vital

stats. mother; sara conner. legal guardians; todd and janelle voight.

and below their names, an address; 523 s. almond. reseda, ca.

officer x stares at the screen a moment. then gets out of the car.

27 int./ext. voight house - day 27

tight on front door as todd voight opens it, revealing the unsmiling

face of officer x beyond the screen door. todd greets him with a weary

sigh.

officer x are you the legal guardian of john conner?

todd that's right, officer. what's he done now?

officer x ignores the question. he casually scans the living room.

officer x could i speak with him, please?

todd shrugs, showing the cop he's past his patience with the boy.

todd well, you could if he was here. but he took off on his bike this

morning. could be anywhere. you gonna tell me what this is about?

officer x i just need to ask him a few questions.

27 janelle appears in the doorway behind todd, concerned. 27

janelle there was a guy here this morning asking about him, too.

todd yeah, big guy. on a bike. has that got something to do with it?

officer x registers the significance of that. he realizes who the big

guy must be. he smiles. reassuringly shakes his head no.

officer x i wouldn't worry. do you have a photo-graph of john?

todd stares unhappily at the cop. turns to janelle.

todd get the album, janelle. cut to 28 ext. street 28

angle through an alley from the main street. we see john and tim flash

by on the honda a block away. hold a beat. then...

a big chrome wheel enters frame. boom up a leather-clad leg to

terminator's implacable face. it surveys the area slowly as the bike

idles, then kicks it into gear and moves on, scanning in a slow

shark-like manner, not aware that it missed its prey by seconds. cut to:

29 int. sara's cell - day 29

close on sara. she is shackled, hands and feet, to the bed. sunlight

falls across her pale face. a hand enters frame, gently stroking her

cheek. she wakes up to see--

kyle reese. sitting on the edge of her bed, looking exactly the same as

we last saw him in 1984. scruffy blond hair and a long raincoat.

sara kyle..? you're dead.

he gives her a gentle smile.

reese i know. this is a dream, sara.

sara oh. yeah. they... make me take this stuff...

29 he puts a finger to her lips. then silently unfastens her

restraints. they gaze 29 into each other's eyes. and in that

look we see that his death and the horror she has been through since

hasn't touched their love at all.

sara hold me.

she melts into reese's arms. pulls him to her.

reese i love you. i always will.

sara oh, god... kyle. i need you so much.

she kisses him passionately. they are locked together in a timeless

moment. push in tight on sara as she buries her face in his shoulder.

she shuts her eyes tight. stay on sara as reese speaks. his voice

strangely cold.

reese (o.s.) where's john, sara?

sara opens her eyes and he is no longer in her arms. he is standing

across the room. pinning her with an accusing gaze.

sara they took him away from me.

reese it's john who's the target now. you have to protect him. he's

wide open.

sara i know!

reese don't quit, sara. our son needs you.

sara (struggling not to cry) i know, but i'm not as strong as i'm

supposed to be. i can't do it. i'm screwing up the mission.

reese remember the message... the future is not set. there is no fate

but what we make for ourselves.

he turns toward the door.

sara kyle don't go!

29 reese 29 (turning back to her) there's not much time left in

the world, sara.

reese goes out the door. sara jumps from the bed, frantic. yanks the

door open. follow her out.

30 int. corridor 30

sara staggers from her cell. reese is already, impossibly a hundred

feet away, striding down the dim corridor. a silhouette in a long coat,

disappearing around a corner.

sara runs after him, her bare feet slapping the cold linoleum. her

hospital gown floats out behind her as she dream-runs along the

seemingly infinite corridor. she reaches the corner, slides around it,

and...

30a slams right into the arms of douglas and his three helpers. they

grab her as 30a she struggles and screams. then silberman is

there, smiling soothingly. they force her down and she is pinned

to the floor, screaming. a new figure approaches... one even more

menacing.

terminator walks toward her, with heavy, measured steps. backlit, eyes

concealed by the sunglasses, it stands over her like the angel of death

itself. it reaches down and... takes her hand. lifts her up. leads

her to a door. they go through together. emerging into...

30b a beautiful sunlit morning. children are playing nearby... 30b

sliding down slides, clambering through a jungle gym. sara knows

this dream now... it is the worst of all her nightmares. she starts

to scream but no sound comes out.

30c the sky explodes into white light. everything is seared by the

30c unholy glare, hotter than a thousand suns. the children ignite

like match heads. sara is burning, screaming silently, everything

silent and overexposed. terminator's flesh and clothing are

burning, silently. it grips her hand, virgil to her dante in this

tour of the nuclear age inferno.

30d the blast wave hits... a near-solid wall of compressed air followed

by 30d 250 mph winds. the children, charcoal statues frozen in

positions of play, explode into black leaves of ash and swirl away.

sound hits now, with a thunderous roar. sara's scream merges with

the howl of the wind as the blast hits her, exploding the flesh from

her bones. beside her, terminator is stripped of its burnt flesh,

becoming a smoking skeleton of steel.

30e then she wakes up... in her cell, shackled to the bed. sunlight

hurts her 30e eyes. she looks desperate and defeated. she

knows the war is coming. it visits her every time she closes her

eyes. lost and alone, sara feels all hope recede for herself and

for humanity.

cut to:

31 int. pescadero state hospital - interview room 31

tight on video screen, playing a previously-recorded session. sara is in

a strait-jacket, talking softly.

video sara ... it's... like a giant strobe light, burning right

through my eyes... but somehow i can still see. look, you know the

dream's the same every night, why do i have to--

video silberman please continue...

31a the real sara dispassionately watches herself on the screen. her

31a expression is controlled. silberman watches her watching. they

are in a brightly lit interview room. two attendants stand nearby.

31b video sara 31b the children look like burnt paper... black, not

moving. then the blast wave hits them and they fly apart like

leaves...'

video sara can't go on. real sara watches herself cry on tape, her

expression cold. we hear silberman speak on the tape.

video silberman dreams about cataclysm, or the end of the world, are

very common, sara...

video sara cuts him off, her mood shifting to sudden rage.

video sara it 's not just a dream. it's real, you moron! i know the

date it happens!!

video silberman i'm sure it feels very real to you--

video sara on august 29th 1997 it's going to feel pretty fucking real to

you, too! anybody not wearing number two million sunblock is gonna

have a real bad day, get it?!

video silberman relax now, sara--

video sara you think you're alive and safe, but you're already dead.

everybody, you, him... (she gestures at the attendant) everybody...

you're all fucking dead!

terminator 2 - rev. 9/10/90 17

31b she is raving, half out of her chair. the orderly moves to

inject her with 31b something.

video sara you're the one living in a dream, silberman, not me! because

i know it happens. it happens!

31c silberman pauses the tape... freezing sara's contorted face. 31c

real sara turns away from the screen, her expression stony.

sara i was afraid... and confused. i feel much better, now. clearer.

silberman gives a calculated paternal smile.

silberman yes. your attitude has been very positive lately.

sara looks up at him. her voice is hopeful.

sara it has helped me a lot to have a goal, something to look forward

to.

silberman and what is that?

as she answers, we pull back, revealing that we have been looking

through a one-way mirror from an adjacent observation room. in the

shadows of the observation room we see the interns from the earlier

rounds, and a couple of staff psychologists. they smoke and make the

occasional note.

sara you said i could be transferred to the minimum security wing and

have visitors if i showed improvement in six months. well, it's been

six months, and i was looking forward to seeing my son.

silberman i see. let's go back to what you were saying about these

terminator machines. now you think they don't exist?

close on sara. her voice sounds hollow.

sara they don't exist. i see that now.

silberman leans back, studying her. toying with her.

31c silberman 31c but you've told me on many occasions about how

you crushed one in a hydraulic press.

sara if i had, there would have been some evidence. they would have

found something at the factory.

silberman i see. so you don't believe anymore that the company covered

it up?

sara shakes her head no. cut to:

32 ext. cyberdyne systems - day 32

the corporate headquarters of a mega-electronics corporation. an

imposing cubist castle of black glass.

33 int. second floor/ elevators 33

the elevator doors slide open with a whisper and miles dyson strides

out. black. in his early thirties. the star of the special project's

division. he's brilliant, aggressive, driven. dyson walks down the

corridor, swinging his arms... a man in a hurry. a man with much to do.

he reaches a solid security door and zips his electronic key-card

through the scanner. the door unlocks with a clunk. the sign next to

the door reads: special projects division: authorized personnel only.

34 int. security station 34

he nods to the guards as he passes through the security checkpoint.

they can see all activities on the floor on their bank of video

monitors. he unlocks another secure door with his card and enters--

35 int.artificial intelligence (a.i.) lab 35

the lab is quite large, comprising banks of processors, disk drives,

test bays, prototype assembly areas. extremely high tech.

dyson greetings, troops.

he is jokingly saluted by fellow workers. not a lab coat in sight.

this is a strictly jeans and sneakers crowd. all young and bright.

they sit at their consoles drinking cokes and changing technology as we

know it. a young lab assistant rushes over to dyson. name tag says

he's bryant.

35 bryant 35 mr. dyson? the materials team wants to run another test

on the uh... on it.

dyson yup. come on. i'll get it.

dyson produces an unusual-looking key from his pocket as they stride

through the lab. bryant has to hustle to keep up.

bryant listen, mr. dyson, i know i haven't been here that long, but i

was wondering if you could tell me... i mean, if you know...

dyson know what?

bryant well... where it came from.

dyson i asked them that question once. know what they told me? don't

ask.

36 int. vault room 36

dyson enters with bryant. dyson and a guard stand together before what

looks like a high-tech bank vault. it requires two keys to open, like

the launch controls in a nuclear silo. the guard and dyson insert their

keys and turn them simultaneously. dyson then enters a passcode at a

console and the vault unlocks itself with a sequence of clunks. the

door swings open and dyson enters. bryant stays outside with the guard,

who notes dyson's name and the time on a clipboard.

37 int. vault 37

dyson walks to a stainless steel cabinet and opens it. inside is a small

artifact in a sealed container of inert-gas. it --a ceramic rectangle,

about the size of a domino, the color of liver. it has been shattered,

painstakingly reconstructed and mounted on a metal frame.

dyson removes the artifact, in its inert-gas flask, and sets it on a

specially designed cart. he handles it like the turin shroud. dyson

closes the cabinet. turns to the one next to it. opens its door. in

this cabinet is a larger object... an intricate metal hand and forearm.

at the elbow, the metal is twisted and crushed. but the forearm and

hand are intact. its metal surface scorched and discolored, it stands

upright in a vacuum flask, as if saluting. this is all that remains of

the terminator sara destroyed. dyson stares at it, lost in thought.

then he closes the cabinet, blacking out frame.

cut to:

38 int. interview room/ observation room 38

we can see through the one way mirror into the interview room where sara

is still talking with silberman. the other psychologists are still

watching through the mirror. reviewing sara's condition.

sara so what do you think, doctor? i've shown a lot of improvement,

haven't i?

silberman you see, sara... here's the problem. i know how smart you

are, and i think you're just telling me what i want to hear. i don't

think you really believe what you've been telling me today.

we go tight on sara's reaction. and we see that silberman is right. she

was playing him and it didn't work. and she knows she's fucked. her

tone becomes quietly pleading.

sara you have to let me see my son. please. it's very important. he's

in danger. at least let me call him--

silberman pins her with his sweet reptilian gaze.

silberman i'm afraid not. not for a while. i don't see any choice but

to recommend to the review board that you stay here another six months.

sara's eyes turn cold and lethal in one second. she knows she's lost.

she knows this guy is just playing with her, and she-- leaps across the

table at him.

sara you son of bitch!!

silberman jumps back and the attendants dive on her. she is writhing

and twisting like a bobcat. silberman whips open a drawer and pulls out

a syringe. he jabs it into her as she yells--

sara goddammit. let me go!! silberman! you don't know what you're

doing! you fuck! you're dead! you hear me!!

silberman signals and the attendants drag her out. he looks at the

doctors behind the glass. shrugs.

silberman model citizen.

cut to:

39 ext. 7-eleven store - day 39

officer x has stopped two young girls in front of a 7-eleven. he is

leaning out the cruiser window and showing them the picture of john.

the first girl nods. *

first girl yeah, he was here about fifteen minutes ago. i think he said

he was going to the galleria.

officer x the what?

the second girl points toward a massive complex visible above the houses

several blocks away. officer x stares at it.

40 ext. street 40

terminator cruises slowly on the bike. scanning. he crosses an

overpass above a drainage canal and whips his head around at the sound

of a dirt-bike engine.

40a terminator pov-- of two kids on a bike down in the canal. 40a the

image snap-zooms in. freezes on the driver's face. ident pos

flashes next to the blurry image of john.

40b terminator wheels the harley around, cutting onto a street which

40b runs parallel to the canal. terminator hauls ass to keep john

in sight. he catches glimpses of the kid through trees and houses.

loses him. catches one last glimpse of him heading into the parking

garage of a large shopping mall.

41 int. galleria - day 41

john works his way through a crowded video arcade. sees some guys he

knows. stops to talk, striking a pose. mall rats in their element. we

don't hear the dialogue.

42 int. galleria parking garage 42

terminator's idling harley shakes the parking garage walls. he stops

at a row of bikes near the escalators. john's little honda sits proudly

with the big street bikes. terminator parks.

43 int. galleria 43

officer x is moving through the flow of shoppers. the place is a zoo.

he stops some kids and shows them the picture. they shrug.

43a in a crowded video arcade john is lost in an intense battle, going

43a for a new high score at 'missile command'. he parries deftly

as the enemy icbms deploy their mirvs... the warheads stream down...

it's more than he can deal with. the world gets nuked. game over.

he slouches away from the game, looking for another. bored.

rack focus to officer x passing the entrance of the store behind

him. the cop moves on, down the concourse, out of sight. john gets

into an 'afterburner' simulator game.

43b on terminator, walking through the crowd in slow motion. scanning.

43b it moves with methodical purpose, knowing the target is close.

we see that it is, incredibly, carrying a box of long stem roses.

like some hopeful guy with a hot date.

43c the cop is pointed toward the arcade by some kids hanging out at the

43c multi-cinema. he walks into the maze of kids engaged in

synthesized conflict. cheap electronic sound effects blare above

the crowd noise.

43d john is shooting down migs at mach 2. his friend tim slides up next

to 43d him. taps him on the shoulder, trying to play it cool.

tim some cop is scoping for you, dude.

john looks around the corner of the 'afterburner' ride. sees the cop

showing a picture to some of the kids. the kids point his way.

john ducks just as the cop glances over. he slinks out the other side

of the ride and heads for the back of the store, instinctively

retreating. sara has taught him that cops are bad news.

the cop scans the crowded arcade. glimpses john, looking back as he

moves around a row of machines. starts toward him.

john sees the cop homing in and starts walking fast. looks back. the

cop is shoving through clots of kids. one of them is slammed to the

floor. an eddy of outrage behind the cop as he gains speed. john

breaks into a run. so does the cop. kids scatter like ten-pins as the

cop charges after john. john sprints through the arcade's back office

and store-rooms.

44 int. service corridor 44

john emerges through a firedoor into a long corridor which connects to

the parking garage. he's running full out, when around the corner ahead

of him comes...

terminator. time stretches to nightmarish crawl as john tries to brake

to a stop. terminator reaches into the box of roses.

slow motion. the cold black steel of the shotgun emerges as the box

falls open, the roses spilling to the floor. terminator's boot crushes

the flowers as it moves forward.

44 john, transfixed by terror, is trapped in the narrow featureless

shooting 44 gallery of the corridor. the shotgun comes up.

terminator expressionlessly strides forward. jacks a round into the

chamber, slow and fluid.

john looks behind him for a place to run. sees the cop coming toward

him, pulling his beretta pistol. incredibly, john realizes the cop is

aiming his gun at him! john looks back at terminator. he is staring

into the black muzzle of the 10 gauge now. aimed right at his head. he

realizes he's screwed. then something crazy happens...

terminator get down.

john instinctively ducks. terminator pulls the trigger. kaboom!

the cop catches the shotgun's blast square in the chest just as he fires

his pistol. the pistol's shot goes wild.

terminator pumps another round into him. then another. and another.

and another. advancing a step each time he fires, he empties the

shotgun into the cop, blowing him backward down the corridor. the sound

is deafening. then silence.

the cop lies still on his back.

44a terminator is now standing right over john. they both watch as the

cop, 44a incredibly, sits up unharmed and gets to its feet.

terminator grabs john roughly by his jacket. clutches the kid to

his chest then spins around as the cop opens fire with the beretta.

44b the 'cop', who not only isn't a cop, he clearly isn't even human,

pulls 44b the trigger so fast it almost seems like a

machine-pistol.

on terminator's back, as the 9mm slugs slam into it, punching bloody

holes in the motorcycle jacket.

a man emerges from a restroom and steps right between the cop and his

target. he's instantly cut down by the fusillade.

john is bug-eyed with fear, but completely unscratched. terminator's

body has blocked the bullets.

the beretta clacks empty. terminator turns at the sound. shoves john

behind a coke machine. drops the empty shotgun, starts walking toward

the 'cop'. the empty magazine clatters to the floor. the cop inserts

another one. snaps back the slide. terminator still has twenty feet

to go. it doesn't break its purposeful stride.

44b the cop opens fire. bullets rake terminator's chest. it

doesn't even flinch. 44b ten feet to go. blam blam blam blam!

neither the cop nor terminator show the slightest change in

expression as the gun rips terminator's wardrobe to shreds.

clack. the pistol empties again. terminator stops two feet in front of

the cop. they appraise each other for a second.

we realize now that the cop is a terminator too. we don't know the

details yet, but let's call him the t-1000 (since that's what he is). a

newer model than the one we've come to know so well (the 800 series

'arnold'). this guy's an advanced prototype... and he's got quite a few

surprises.

t-1000 and terminator size each other up. terminator moves first. it

grabs the t-1000 in its massive hands but the t-1000 snaps back with a

counter-grip. after about two seconds of intense slamming, the walls on

both sides of the corridor have all the plaster smashed in, and the two

battling machines have blasted through the wall and disappeared.

john, totally stunned by all of this, remembers to move. he staggers to

his feet. stumble-runs toward the parking garage.

44c third level concourse. a plate glass window explodes and the 44c

terminator crashes through to the tile floor like a sack of cement

amid the screaming crowd.

44d the t-1000, swatting mannequins aside, emerges through the broken

window. 44d picks up the stunned terminator by its jacket. hurls

him against the balcony, which shatters at the impact. terminator

crashes through and falls two levels to the courtyard below!

t-1000 turns without a word and heads back through the store after

john, accelerating slowly into a loping, predatory run.

44e down on the courtyard. terminator is totally still. a japanese

44e tourist cautiously steps forward and takes a picture of the

body. suddenly, terminator's eyes snap open. the stunned tourist

backs away.

it sits up and looks around. gets its bearings. rises smoothly to its

feet. all servos seem to be working fine. the tourist's camera whirs

as the motor-drive runs on by itself, taking shot after shot. the owner

isn't even looking through the eyepiece, he's so shocked.

45 int. parking garage 45

john is frantically pumping the kick starter of his bike, scared

shitless and the damned thing won't start. his hands are shaking so

badly he can't find the choke. he looks up to see-- the t-1000 running

down the corridor toward him. john fumbles with the choke. the bike

catches. he slams it in gear and spins the bike out into the main

aisle of the garage.

45 john looks back... the t-1000 is behind him, running. he twists the

throttle 45 and guns the little bike forward. incredibly, the

t-1000 is gaining. this nightmare isn't happening. john races out

the exit ramp, and charges right into the street.

46 ext. street 46

john shoots into the busy traffic. cuts off a big-rig tow truck. the

driver swears. hits his air horn. what the driver doesn't see is the

cop, running faster than o.j. simpson at the airport, who emerges onto

the street and runs right at his truck.

46a in the truck. the driver hears a thump as something slams against

46a his door, then feels himself pulled right out. t-1000 slides in

and takes his place. the truck is still rolling along about 25 mph.

t-1000 accelerates after john without missing a beat. it can see

him, up ahead, weaving through traffic.

46b out of the garage entrance, terminator roars onto the street on the

harley. 46b it accelerates after the others.

47 ext. flood control channel 47

john slides his bike down the service ramp faster than he's ever done it

before. he races along the bottom of the canal, turning into a narrower

tributary which has vertical sides.

he looks back. no sign of pursuit. 47a suddenly he sees the sun blocked

out by a great shadow. 47a the kenworth tow-truck... big as house, all

chrome and roaring diesel engine... crashes through the fence and

launches itself right into the center of the canal.

it crashes down, 15 feet to the ground, going about 60, hits at an angle

and tears into the concrete wall with a hideous grinding of metal. it

ricochets back and forth between the walls then, bellowing like a

gutshot stegosaurus, it just keeps on plowing forward, gathering speed.

47b john looks back and sees this wall of metal almost filling the

narrow 47b concrete canal and he milks every last bit of throttle

the little bike has. the kenworth is all muscle, tearing along the

canal like a train in a tunnel. its big tires send up huge sheets

of muddy spray, backlit in the setting sun. it looks like some kind

of demon. and... it's gaining.

47c above them, on the service road running parallel, terminator is

47c fighting to overtake them. it looks down and sees john with the

tow-truck from hell catching up to him. it is only about twenty

feet behind him and still gaining.

47d angle in the canal, looking back past a desperate john, at the wall

of 47d metal filling frame behind him.

47e above, terminator cuts the bike suddenly hard to the left, leaving

the 47e road. hitting an earth embankment just right, it jumps the

bike into the air like steve mcqueen in 'the great escape' and

vaults the fence bordering the canal. it slams down at the edge of

the canal and tears along, inches from the drop-off on a dirt path,

accelerating past the truck in the channel below.

47f john hits some water and slews momentarily, losing speed. the

massive 47f push-plate on the front of the truck slams his back

fender. panicked, he pulls a little ahead. all this is happening

at about sixty miles an hour. top speed for the little dirt bike.

47g slow motion as terminator jumps the bike again. this time the 700-

47g pound harley sails out into space and drops into the canal. it

arcs down between the truck and john, hitting on its wheels. it

bottoms out, an explosion of sparks from under the frame. only the

ultra-fast reflexes of a machine could keep the bike upright.

terminator fights for control.

47h it guns the throttle and the powerful bike roars up beside john's

tiny honda. 47h terminator sweeps the kid off his machine with one

arm and swings him onto the harley, in front of him. john's honda

weaves and falls, smashed instantly under thundering tires.

the harley roars ahead. it hits eighty. ahead is an overpass, and

supporting it is an abutment which bisects the canal into two channels.

the harley thunders into one channel, which is essentially a short

tunnel.

47i the truck can't fit on either side. neither can it stop, at that

speed. tires 47i locked, it slides on the muddy concrete and

piles into the concreted abutment at seventy.

47j terminator and john emerge from the tunnel, looking back to see a

fireball 47j blasting through behind them as the truck's side-tanks

explode.

terminator stops the harley. john peers around its body to see the

destruction. a burning wheel wobbles out of the tunnel and flops in the

mud. terminator revs the bike and they roar away, down the canal,

disappearing around a bend.

47k angle on the fire, as a column of black smoke rises from the

overpass. 47k smoke boils from the tunnel as well, and inside

it is a solid wall of flame. a figure appears in the fire. just an

outline. walking slowly... calmly. the figure emerges from the

flames.

it is human-shaped but far from human. a smooth chrome man. not a

servomechanism like terminator is underneath, with its complex

hydraulics and cables... this thing is a featureless, liquid chrome

surface, bending seamlessly at knees and elbows as it walks. it reminds

us of mercury. a mercury man. its face is simple, unformed. unruffled

by thousand degree heat, it walks toward us.

with each step detail returns. first the shapes and lines of its

clothing emerge from the liquid chrome surface, then finer

details... buttons, facial features, ears... *

47k but it's still all chrome. with its last step, the color

returns to everything. it is 47k the cop again... handsome young

face, blond hair, moustache. icy eyes. it stops and looks around.

it is a perfect chameleon. a liquid metal robot. a killing machine

with the ultimate skills of mimicry for infiltration of human society.

47l angle nearby, as several police cruisers and a fire truck pull up.

47l t-1000 climbs out of the canal behind them. more cops arrive.

t-1000 blends in perfectly. there are always cops at disasters and

scenes of violence. we now see why its choice of protective mimicry is

so perfect. it walks among the other cops unnoticed. gets into one of

the squad cars. starts it and drives away.

48 ext. side street - dusk 48

terminator, with john in front of him, on the harley roars down the

empty street. john cranes his neck around to get a look at the

person/thing he is riding with. the image is strangely reminiscent of

father/son, out for an evening ride.

john is still shaking from the experience of what just happened and he's

just a ten year old kid, but he's also the john conner who will someday

rise to greatness, and we see a bit of that in him even now.

john whoa... time out. stop the bike!

terminator immediately complies. he leans the bike into a turn.

they head * into a nearby alley.

49 ext. alley 49

terminator and john roll into the alley and come to a stop. john slides

off the gas tank. terminator impassively stares at him. john checks

him out. tentatively speaks.

john now don't take this the wrong way, but you are a terminator, right?

terminator yes. cyberdyne systems, model 101.

john no way!

john touches terminator's skin. then the blood on his jacket.

* his mind overloads as the reality of it hits him.

49 john 49 holy shit... you're really real! i mean... whoah!

(stepping back) you're, uh... like a machine underneath, right... but

sort of alive outside?

terminator i'm a cybernetic organism. living tissue over a metal

endoskeleton.

john this is intense. get a grip, john. okay, uh... you're not here

to kill me... i figured that part out for myself. so what's the deal?

terminator my mission is to protect you.

john yeah? who sent you?

terminator you did. thirty five years from now you reprogrammed me to

be your protector here, in this time.

john gives him an amazed look.

john this is deep.

50 ext. street - night 50

john and terminator on the bike again, weaving through the side streets.

they blend into the evening traffic. in the darkness, terminator's

wounds are not readily visible. john cranes his head up and back.

john so this other guy? he's a terminator too, right, like you?

terminator not like me. a t-1000. advanced prototype. a mimetic

polyalloy.

john what's that mean?

terminator liquid metal.

john radical.

50 terminator 50 you are targeted for termination. the t-1000 will

not stop until it completes its mission. ever.

john mulls that over.

john where we going?

terminator we have to leave the city, immediately. and avoid the

authorities.

john can i stop by my house?

terminator negative. the t-1000 will definitely try to reacquire you

there.

john you sure?

terminator i would. cut to:

51 ext. payphone 51

john is quickly going through his pockets for change. he has plenty of

bills but no quarters.

john look, todd and janelle are dicks but i gotta warn them. shit! you

got a quarter?

terminator reaches past john and smashes the cover plate off the phone's

cash box with the heel of his hand. a shower of change tumbles out.

terminator hands one to john. john dials.

52 int. voight house - kitchen - night 52

janelle voight picks up the kitchen phone and cradles it with her

shoulder while she continues to chop vegetables with a large knife.

she answers sweetly.

janelle hello?

john (filtered through phone) janelle? it's me.

52 in the backyard john's german shepherd is going bonkers, barking at

52 something.

janelle john? where are you, honey? it's late. you should come home,

dear. i'm making a casserole.

at the payphone. john listens, an odd look on his face. he covers the

phone's mouthpiece and turns to terminator.

john (whispering) something's wrong. she's never this nice.

in the voight's kitchen. todd comes in through the kitchen's back

door. just home from work. he ignores janelle and opens the

fridge. grabs a coors. takes a sip. frowns at the dog's barking.

todd what the hell's the goddamn dog barking at? shut up you mutt!

tight on janelle as todd growls around the kitchen behind her. he

passes out of frame next to her. janelle switches the phone to her

other hand then... thunk! her free hand seems to do something out of

frame. there is a gurgling, and the sound of liquid dribbling onto the

floor. (don't go away. we'll found out what happened in a moment)

at the payphone. john cups the phone again. turns to terminator.

john the dog's really barking. maybe it's already there. what should i

do?

terminator takes the phone from john's hand. janelle's voice is

floating through the receiver.

janelle (filtered) john? john, are you okay?

terminator speaks into the phone in a perfect imitation of john's

voice...

terminator (in john's voice) i'm right here. i'm fine. (to john, a

whisper) what is the dog's name?

john max.

terminator 2 - rev. 9/10/90 31

52 terminator nods. speaks into the phone. 52

terminator hey janelle, what's wrong with wolfy? i can hear him

barking. is he okay?

janelle (filtered) wolfy's fine, honey. where are you?

terminator unceremoniously hangs up the phone. turns to john.

terminator your foster parents are dead. let's go.

terminator heads for the bike. john, shocked, stares after him.

53 int. voight house / kitchen 53

janelle hangs up the phone. her expression is neutral. calm.

pan over along her arm, which is stretched out straight from the

shoulder. partway along its length her arm has turned smoothly into

something else-- a * metal cylinder which tapers into a

sword-like spike. now we see todd voight pinned to a kitchen

cabinet by the spike which has punched through his beer can, through

his mouth and exits the back of his head into the cabinet door. his

eyes are glassy and lifeless.

the spike is withdrawn-- swiishhtt!-- so rapidly, todd is actually

standing there a second before he slumps out of sight. thump. 53a

janelle doesn't bat an eye as the spike smoothly changes shape and

color, 53a transforming back into a hand, and then...

53b janelle changes rapidly into the cop we now know as the t-1000. the

53b change has a liquid quality. t-1000 opens the back door.

54 ext. voight house/ backyard - night

t-1000 approaches the big german shepherd, which slinks away from him,

barking in fear. t-1000 walks right into close up. reaches down, out

of frame. we hear that sickening thunk followed by a shrill yelp.

then t-1000's hand snaps up into frame holding a bloody dog collar. the

tag reads 'max'. t-1000 nods thoughtfully. heads back to the house.

55 ext. parking lot - night 55

dark. off a quiet street. terminator stands near the harley watching

john pace before him. john's brain is calling time-out. this is all

too weird.

john i need a minute here, okay? you're telling me it can imitate

anything it touches?

terminator 2 - rev. 9/10/90 32

55 terminator 55 anything it samples by physical contact.

john thinks about that, trying to grasp their opponent's parameters.

john like it could disguise itself as anything... a pack of cigarettes?

terminator no. only an object of equal size.

john's still reeling from meeting one terminator, which now seems

downright conventional next to the exotic new model.

john well, why didn't it just become a bomb or something to get me?

terminator it can't form complex machines. guns and explosives have

chemicals, moving parts. it doesn't work that way. but it can form

solid metal shapes.

56 int. voight house - night 56

t-1000 walks down the dark hall. it passes the bathroom and we see the

real janelle's legs through the half-open door. the shower is running.

her blood mixes with water on the white tile floor.

56a in john's bedroom the t-1000 begins searching methodically in the

dark. 56a calmly and dispassionately ripping the room apart for

any clues that could lead it to its target. t-1000 finds a box of

audio cassettes marke