INT.

MANUFACTURING PLANT - DAY Automated machines and uniformed WORKERS in a calculated chaos, stamping out rows and columns of identical smartphones along a conveyor belt. A SUIT, early 30s, walks briskly along the production line with a frazzled ASSISTANT behind him. SUIT Has the CEO seen these numbers yet? ASSISTANT No, sir. SUIT CFO? ASSISTANT No, sir. SUIT C-ASSISTANT None of the board have seen it. SUIT God fucking damn it, good. Burn the documents. Shred them and burn them. Jesus Christ, I can't--what-He stops, wheels around, and grabs the assistant's tie. SUIT (CONT'D) What--why? Why? Why the fuck--are you trying to make my life harder? You find out the presales are tracking a fucking disaster and you tell me the day of? ASSISTANT The information only just became available this morning. Suit turns to resume his stride along the line, briefly examining the work process as he goes. SUIT Here meaning two in the fucking morning. This morning starts when it's morning out, not when the clock hands line up, you dig what I'm fucking saying!?

2. ASSISTANT Yes, of course, sir. My mistake. SUIT Do you realize that I do not need this right now? I'm sure you do. I'm sure you realize that I need to be home for much more pressing matters. I'm sure you also realize that this...colossal fuck-up will get me chewed out and likely require me to work for the next week or so trying to put blood back into a stab wound. ASSISTANT I do, sir. They pass a massive press--it continuously RAMS into the conveyor belt full of half-made phones. SUIT Jesus Christ, what the fuck is this thing? ASSISTANT Press, I think for the plastic-SUIT I don't like it. From across the massive plant--a huge glowing vat of liquid metal is poured into a smelter. SUIT (CONT'D) What...what...the fuck--explain what I'm seeing here. ASSISTANT You subcontracted the plant to a lightweight alloy company, mostly dealing in aluminum and titanium. SUIT Christ, are we that in the red? They stop at a stairway onto a catwalk. SUIT (CONT'D) Say, can you go get the car ready so I can run the fuck away from this disaster before it tears my scrotom out through my asshole?

3. ASSISTANT Yes, sir. The assistant hurries away. The suit heads up the stairs, leans on the railing of the catwalk, and watches over the factory floor. Completely stonefaced expression. His phone RINGS and he slips it out of his coat pocket-different logo than the ones being made downstairs. SUIT Hey, baby. He paces along the catwalk. PHONE You left so fast this morning, I barely got a chance to say goodbye. SUIT Yeah, there was a thing at work. PHONE One of those, huh? SUIT Classic suit stuff, you know me. PHONE Not enough. SUIT What...hey, come on. PHONE You were right next to me when Doctor Percival said we need to spend more time together. You remember that, right? The assistant runs up--suit holds up a finger and he stops short. The assistant makes a gesture to hurry up, toward the exit. PHONE (CONT'D) You also remember what I said, right? I...yeah. SUIT Of course. PHONE What was it?

4. SUIT Truth be told, I don't, I must've lost grasp of it somewhere in between mergers and acquisitions. Do you catch my drift? PHONE Jesus Christ, are you really about to do this right now? You said this baby would be the solution to all our problems! Me raising her alone is really not making me love you more! A huge explosion of sparks from a metallurgic process going on downstairs. PHONE (CONT'D) I need to go. I'm gonna go visit my mother. SUIT Of course you're gonna visit your mother, of course. PHONE (beat) Will I see you tonight? SUIT I...I don't know. Well then. DISCONNECT. Suit cocks his arm back to throw the phone off the balcony and stops himself. He leans down on the railing. SUIT Great. Okay, so I need to come up with a fix for this class five shitstorm before dinner tonight. Any ideas, now's a pretty hot fucking time. (long beat) Get this goddamn phone away from me before I throw it off this catwalk. He shoves the phone into the assistant's already full hands-he fumbles it and it falls off the catwalk into a vat of liquid metal. Suit scoffs and runs his hands through his hair. I'll try.

PHONE At least you tried.

5. ASSISTANT I...am so sorry, sir, I will have it replaced and your contacts transferred by lunch. SUIT Don't bother, you're fired. ASSISTANT Of course, sir. Suit leans on the railing, pondering. SUIT Strike that, no you're not. Get the CEO on your phone and have the car ready to take me home. The assistant digs his phone from his pocket and dials. ASSISTANT Home, sir? SUIT Home. I'm going to see my fucking daughter. ASSISTANT (into phone) Yes sir, one moment. He grabs the phone from the assistant and jams it to his ear, walking for the stairs in a fast stride. SUIT I'm aware of that. No need to panic. Tomorrow we'll announce a premium metal coated version at fifteen percent markup. (beat) Indeed. And, sir? I have thirty vacation days built up, they start now. My regards to the board. He tosses the phone back to the assistant with a grin on his face and strides through the exit.