INT. Studio Flat – Night
Apartment completely black – newspaper coats the windows. KIM SEUNG, TED CADET, and NEIL BOCH slouch in their seats, with only the blue glow from their monitors illuminating their faces. Flashing LED lights blink on the floor. Kim, the astute South Korean clad in black leather, types incredibly fast. Ted and Neil are throwing their own party. Cadet, slouched on a dilapidated couch is adjacent to Neil on a roller chair. Both are drunk. BOCH You about done securing that proxy server Kim? SEUNG I’m just typing the five-thousand lines of code to breach the protocol for overwriting the hypertext while you two become inebriated. CADET Well then quit yer bitchin’ –hic- and grab a brewsky! (holds out fresh bottle) Nothin’ gets my tail going quite like coding on a buzz. Once in college I tripped balls on acid and the binary started toBOCH Would you fucking shut up and set that down? Don’t disturb the Machine at her work. CADET Alright. Let ‘er rip. SEUNG I’ll take offense to being called a machine over a bitch. A bitch can at least think for itself. CADET (Laughs) But you do know who’s the master of both bitch and machine. (points to self) Right here.