JAMIE.

Time. Yes, again. Time.

The door has slid open. Beyond it, we see a CORRIDOR. But as if this is Alice in Wonderland, the corridor narrows and becomes lower.

THE BEEP PERSISTS.

JAMIE.

Time.

She feels her pulse.

JAMIE.

The beat of my heart. The only time I know.

She takes a Walkman-sized object from a counter, straps it around her wrist, stares at a suction cup at the end of the object, and reaches beneath her Lakers sweatshirt, apparently attaching the suction cup to her chest.

At once the BEEP BECOMES A LITTLE FASTER, as if the object on her wrist monitors the speed of her heart.

JAMIE.

The constant motion of time. Except that it's meaningless without something to compare it to...Without something to appreciate... Without a sunrise. I could imagine a sunrise if...Why didn't you give me a watch?

THE SIREN WAILS.

Jamie flinches, clutches her fists in fury, and glares at the ceiling.

JAMIE.

All right, I'm going!

The BEEP that measures her heartrate INCREASES.

She shifts through the doorway.

The roof is low enough that she's forced to stoop now. The walls narrow until they touch her shoulders.

THE BEEP GAINS A LITTLE MORE SPEED.

JAMIE.

(walking stooped, glaring up) What I want to know is, when my heart beats faster, does that mean I'm getting older?

(swallows, staring at the crawls.p.a.ce) Would sixty-nine days that feel like sixty-three days...or however long I've been here... actually be the equivalent of a hundred and twenty days? Six months? The nine months you're paying me to stay here? Because time drags...

The lowering ceiling compels her to kneel. The narrowing walls squeeze her shoulders.

There's a crawls.p.a.ce directly ahead.

Jamie shudders.

THE BEEP INCREASES.

JAMIE.

But my heart feels like it's on rocket fuel. Speed. Does the speed of my heart affect time? Have I been here...

The ceiling is now so low that she's forced to drop to her hands and knees.

JAMIE.

Forever?

She places a hand toward the crawls.p.a.ce, about to insert her head. Trembles. Hesitates.

AND THE SIREN WAILS.

JAMIE.

Give me a break! I told you I'm going! I just need a minute to...!

Abruptly the door HISSES shut behind her.

She whirls.

THE BEEP INCREASES SPEED.

And something SIZZLES, the HUM AND CRACKLE of electrical current.

She flinches, in agony, raising one hand, then another, trying to push herself off the floor. But the ceiling's so low she can't raise her back. She jerks one knee, then the other off the floor, desperate to minimize contact with the CRACKLING electrical current.

JAMIE.

No! Please, stop! I'm going! 1 promise!

She scurries into the crawls.p.a.ce.

At once, the CRACKLING current stops.

Her face is contorted with pain as she sprawls on her stomach. The crawls.p.a.ce is so small it reminds us of an air-conditioning duct. She breathes heavily, exhausted by the electrical current, slumping in relief.

JAMIE.

No more! This can't go on forever!

A sigh of despair.

JAMIE.

Or maybe this is h.e.l.l.

She crawls awkwardly, wincing, b.u.mping her head on the ceiling, sc.r.a.ping her shoulders against the tight walls.

JAMIE.

Maybe you never meant to keep your word. Maybe you're just playing with me? Are you enjoying this, putting me through my paces, watching the way I react. Am I just some kind of...? Just a cruel s.a.d.i.s.tic game to you?

With effort, Jamie reaches the end of the crawls.p.a.ce and squirms toward another compartment. Her brow is moist. Her elbows and knees are dirty. The shoulders of her sweatshirt are frayed and grimy.

She musters strength and struggles to stand...wavers...leans against a wall.

Wiping sweat from her forehead, she stares ahead. What she sees makes her close her eyes in despair. She reopens them, squinting. Her voice cracks.

JAMIE.

Why did you...? No! You broke the bargain again! You changed the rules! You...!

THE BEEP INCREASES.

With a sob, she struggles not to sink to the floor.

JAMIE.

It's not the same! Why do you keep changing the...?

Now we see the room Jamie has entered. It's completely bare. More important, the floor tilts upward - severely.

JAMIE.

Not the same. Not the same.

A.

SIREN WAILS.

JAMIE.

I hear it, you...!

She staggers forward, reaches the incline, attempts to climb it while standing, but falls to her stomach and claws her way toward the top.

JAMIE.

My name is Jamie Neal.

(claws upward) I think.

(claws upward) I'm twenty-eight.

(claws upward) I think.

(claws upward) Going on a hundred.

(claws upward) I'm an a.s.sistant professor of...

Jamie hesitates, nods in fierce resolve, and continues crawling higher.

JAMIE.

Deep-s.p.a.ce...

Jamie hesitates again, shakes her head in confusion.

JAMIE.

Psychology? I think. My specialty is...

She reaches the crest and slumps across it, head on one side, legs on the other.

JAMIE.

Adaptation to confinement? How long, dear G.o.d? How long?

THE SIREN BLARES.

Jamie raises her weary head. Her determined eyes glare toward the ceiling.

JAMIE.

I need to rest!

Again we hear the SIZZLE AND CRACKLE of electrical current.

Jamie screams. THE BEEP INCREASES. She strains to raise her body off the painful torturing peak of the slope. In a frenzy, she topples over the rim.

On the opposite side, she tumbles, groaning, down a slope. She lands hard on a level surface.

She struggles for breath, kneels, and manages to stand.

JAMIE.

My name is Jamie Neal. I'm twenty-eight. I'm an a.s.sistant professor of...I'm a human being. And no matter how much you break your word, no matter how much you torture me...! I'll fight back! I swear it! I'll fight back!

THE SIREN WAILS.

JAMIE.