GATTACA by Andrew M. Niccol - The Script Source
GATTACA by Andrew M. Niccol - The Script Source
GATTACA by Andrew M. Niccol - The Script Source
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65.<br />
EUGENE<br />
(scoffing)<br />
How could they recognize you?<br />
(referring to the<br />
torn photo of 20-<br />
year-old Vincent on<br />
the wall)<br />
I don't recognize you. Anyway,<br />
you don't have a choice. You run,<br />
you may as well sign a confession,<br />
turn us both in right now. No, we<br />
stick this out--find out what we<br />
can but change nothing. This is<br />
a minor inconvenience is all it<br />
is. We've taken worse heat than<br />
this.<br />
(angry now)<br />
Jesus, if I'd known you were going<br />
to go belly up on me at the last<br />
fucking gasp, I wouldn't have<br />
bothered. You can't quit on me<br />
now. I've put too much into this.<br />
(returning the<br />
samples to the<br />
fridge)<br />
Besides, this stuff is mine. I<br />
had other offers, you know. I<br />
could have rented myself out to<br />
somebody with a spine. You want<br />
me to wheel in there and finish<br />
the job myself?<br />
(meeting Jerome's<br />
gaze)<br />
We'll take off all right, from pad<br />
18 just like we planned.<br />
Jerome slumps down in a chair, Eugene's tirade starting to<br />
get to him.<br />
EUGENE<br />
And keep your lashes on your lids<br />
where they belong. How could you<br />
be so careless?<br />
JEROME<br />
I'm sorry.<br />
(reluctant admission)<br />
I think I was crying.<br />
Eugene is uncomfortable at the notion.
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