THE LUCKIEST MAN ON THE FACE OF THE EARTH

THE LUCKIEST MAN ON THE FACE OF THE EARTH

THE LUCKIEST MAN ON THE FACE OF THE EARTH CAST GAMBLERS CROUPIERS CASINO GOONS HIGH-ROLLERS AGENTS SETS INT. CASINO ROULETTE TABLES INT. CASINO LOBBY INT. PENTHOUSE

FADE IN: INT. CASINO ROULETTE TABLES NIGHT Slot machines echo in the hall, nearly deserted at this ungodly hour. The only GAMBLERS, a scruffy lot, huddle around a single table. (VO) What is luck? Is it something you make for yourself? The residue of design? The gamblers guard stacks of red and blue chips. The wheel spins but they wait, watching the man across the table -- (VO) Or is it something you re born with, like blue eyes? Or a clubfoot? -- RIVERS, commanding a tower of black chips. Hanging on him is, busting out of her evening dress. (VO) Whatever luck is, I ve had it all my life. Just not sure whether it s been good luck or bad. Desiree whispers in Rick s ear: Bet my age. Rick shrugs, pushes his chips onto 30. The other patrons rush to bet with Rick. You think I m thirty? Rick blanches, reaches to move his bet. But the CROUPIER waves his hand over the table: No more bets. (VO) Get on a hot streak, they say you re in the zone. When you can t get off that streak, though, it s more like you re in the Twilight Zone.

2. They watch the wheel slow, stop. The ball bounces along, comes to a rest in 30. The patrons whoop with delight. Desiree throws her arms around Rick, gives him a good, long kiss. Ashen, the Croupier slides the winnings around the table. Rick scoops up his chips, tosses one to the Croupier, and hurries off. Desiree bounces along behind him. From a distance, a granite slab in a gorgeous suit, tracks the pair. INT. CASINO LOBBY NIGHT Rick heads for the exits. Desire races to catch up. So where you wanna go now? Tahiti? (giggles) You hungry? I m starving! Rick stops. Hands her all his chips. Here. Start your own restaurant. Where are you going? I don t know. But I m going. She pulls him close. Ricky! We were just getting to know each other. I wanna learn your secret. Rick backs toward the doors. My secret? Quit while you re ahead. A hand lands on Rick s shoulder. Stops him cold.

3. Congratulations, Sir. Mr. Benjamin turns Rick around to face him. I m Alan Benjamin. Manager of the Florentine Casino & Resort. Firm handshake. Mr. Benjamin doesn t let go. I d like to offer you the complimentary use of the De Medici Suite, Mister... Rivers. Rick Rivers. We do hope you ll stay with us for the weekend, Mr. Rivers. Desiree snuggles up alongside Rick. Does that come with Room Service? INT. PENTHOUSE NIGHT Desiree blows through the door, entering a palatial suite. She rushes to the window wall. Look at this view! She dances for the glittering Vegas Strip below. Rick shakes his head. Mr. Benjamin follows them inside. Desiree whirls around the room, taking it all in. How many rooms does a suite have? Mr. Benjamin closes the door. Locks the chain.

4. The De Medici Suite has a luxurious Master Bedroom with His-and-Her baths-- Three beefy CASINO GOONS emerge from one doorway, pistols drawn. As well as a Guest Bedroom, also very well-appointed. The biggest Goon of all steps out of the opposite doorway. Desiree and Rick freeze. MINUTES LATER Of course, there s a kitchenette, but I believe you requested Room Service... Rick and Desiree sit handcuffed to chairs. The Goons surround them. Been a good run, hasn t it, Mr. Rivers? Mr. Benjamin sits facing the pair, elbow propped on a Room Service cart loaded with delicacies. Every casino from here to Atlantic City. A million dollars over twelve years, but never winning enough to attract attention. Different names, a few good disguises. Worked for a while. Except it didn t. (to Rick) Do you know each other? We know him. We all know him. Mr. Benjamin sucks an oyster from the shell.

5. You think we don t see what goes on? There s cameras everywhere. Can t even gamble with cash anymore; it s all on your Club Card. Maybe you think casinos don t talk to each other? Sure, we re in competition. But it s with you people. Mr. Benjamin inhales a Kobe beef slider. I ve never cheated. We know. Every cheater in a casino leaves evidence, even if it takes a roomful of mathematicians to find it. And when we find them -- well, cheaters don t end up in the De Medici Suite. With you, though, the evidence is there is no evidence. So what s the problem? The problem is he doesn t cheat. (to Rick) You don t count cards. You re not tracking the wheel. You just win. All the time. That s not a crime. That s why you re not in jail. Maybe you re born lucky. Maybe you made a deal with the Devil. Whatever -- it s a statistical fact: You are the luckiest human being to ever walk into a casino. I don t feel lucky. Rick rattles his handcuffs.

6. We don t know how you do it. And we don t care. Because now you re gonna do it for us. Okay, if this is about him, then why am I here? You re not lucky. (to Rick) You and I are going back to the tables. And neither of you are leaving until that luck of yours rubs off on us. How is that supposed to happen? Mr. Benjamin takes Rick s chips off the table. We ll stick with roulette -- the No- Limit Table this time. Got some high-rollers in town tonight. A few Silicon Alley punks, Couple of exathletes, a few Chinese industrialists. But you start winning, and eventually they ll start betting with you, like everyone else does. And when they bet everything, that s when you lose. Thought you said I always win. If you want to win at the game of life, Mr. Rivers, you better lose at roulette. And when you get your money back we can go? If you re lucky.

7. INT. CASINO ROULETTE TABLES NIGHT The No-Limit Table s surrounded by well-dressed HIGH- ROLLERS. Rick huddles with his chips, sandwiched among the other gamblers. He can see Mr. Benjamin watching from across the room. The Croupier spins the wheel. The others slide their chips all over the board. Rick nudges a modest stack onto an outside bet, Black. The wheel slows, stops. The ball settles in 16 -- Red. Rick gulps. The Croupier sweeps Rick s wager away. Mr. Benjamin scowls. Rick places an even larger stack of chips on another outside bet, 1 to 18. A couple of others make the same bet. The wheel spins, slows, stops. The ball bounces around, lands in 36. The wagers get swept away. The high-rollers who bet with Rick stare daggers at him. Rick makes another outside bet, 2nd 12. Everyone who d made the same bet hurries to move their chips anywhere else. The wheel stops. The ball bounces into 24, then bounces out, landing in 25. The patrons clap and cheer, laugh at Rick as they gather their winnings. Rick s eyes dart across the board. The wheel spins. The patrons wait to see what he ll do. Rick moves a stack onto Red. Then everyone else places their bets -- on Black.

8. Rick s wager stands alone on Red, isolated like a leper. The wheel slows, stops. The bounces all around, settling into 35 -- Black. Cheers from the patrons. Rick turns green. Patrons slap Rick s shoulder, rub his head like he s their mascot. Fuming, Mr. Benjamin approaches the table. INT. CASINO LOBBY NIGHT Mr. Benjamin drags Rick into an isolated alcove, pins him against the wall. What do you want me to do? Win! Get them to bet with you, then take them down. What is so hard about that? I don t think you understand how this works. How does it work? I have no idea. You better come up with a theory, Ricky. Because if you don t win back our money, you and your girlfriend are never going to leave this casino. Actually, we just met. Mr. Benjamin shoves Rick back toward the tables.

9. INT. CASINO ROULETTE TABLES NIGHT Everyone waits for Rick s bet. He nudges a stack across the board, searching for a good bet, his hands moving like a kid using a Ouija board. Surprising himself, he stops on 00. Everyone else bets -- and nobody else bets on 00. The wheel spins, stops. The ball bounces around... and lands in 00. The other patrons faces fall. Rick s in shock as the Croupier sweeps away everyone else s bets and sends a large stack to join Rick s on 00. Rick reaches for the stack, but hesitates. He leaves it all on 00. Groans of disbelief from the patrons. They place their bets. Only one gambler bets with Rick. The wheel spins. The patrons watch the ball. Rick watches the table. The ball lands in 00 again. The table is silent as a tomb. Everyone looks at Rick. Watching from across the room, Mr. Benjamin permits himself a smile. The croupier sends Rick another giant stack of chips. At a nod from Rick he swaps out Rick s black chips with a small stack of gold chips. The others gasp. They watch for Rick s move. He leaves his chips on 00... and pushes everything else he has there as well. The other patrons scramble to get their own chips on the same bet. Mr. Benjamin cranes his neck to see the action.

10. Black and gold chips crowd together like miniature skyscrapers on the plot of felt that s 00. The rest of the table is empty. The only sound is the wheel spinning. Everyone watches. The Croupier dabs sweat from his brow. The wheel slows to a stop. The ball bounces around... and lands on 00. The table erupts in cheers. Grown men hug and kiss Rick like they just won the World Series. The patrons fall over themselves to collect their chips as the Croupier frantically doles out the winnings. Mr. Benjamin cracks his knuckles. INT. PENTHOUSE NIGHT The door blows open. Rick s shoved inside, followed by Mr. Benjamin. Picked a bad time for your luck to run out, Ricky. Mr. Benjamin looks around -- where is everybody? Desiree s chair is empty. The Goons bodies lay about the room. BZZT! From somewhere, a silenced pistol shot. Mr. Benjamin s eyes bug. He looks down at the blooming red spot in his chest, collapses. As Mr. Benjamin hits the floor, Rick sees Desiree holding the pistol. Except now she s aiming it at him. Have a seat, Mr. Rivers.

11. MINUTES LATER Desiree peers out the windows, scanning the street below. The extraction team will be here any minute. So you just sit tight. Rick s cuffed to the same chair as before. Rick s jaw drops. You re not really a model-slashactress. Much more. Just like you re much more than an itinerant gambler on a hot streak. Where do people get the idea that I ve got nothing but good luck? You know my Mom died in childbirth? My Dad died when I was a kid. Every school or job I ever had either burned down, shut down, or got raided. And that million dollars? You don t want to know where that went. Three hundred thousand to pay for your nephew s medical care. Another two-fifty paying off a friend s debt to the Kansas City mob. $225,000 invested in a nightclub that was consumed in an arson. That was arson?

12. Throw in a hundred-fifty grand in living expenses, and it adds up to $925,000, to be precise. Didn t seem like that much. Know what you lack, Mr. Rivers? Perspective. Did you know you were born at twenty-three weeks? The odds of you surviving were slim enough to make others take notice. The car accident that took your father should have taken you, too. If you hadn t been thrown from the car you would ve been trapped in the flames. And the food poisoning that killed your classmates in third grade? You only escaped that because you missed lunch as punishment for getting in a fight with those same kids. They started it. I know. Desiree sits where Mr. Benjamin sat earlier, the pistol still in her hands. Throughout your life, you ve beaten the odds like no one before. You would have come to our attention without the gambling. But that s when the data really started to accumulate. You always beat the odds. And you always will. Prove it.

13. You want to see the spreadsheets? Bet me: If your extraction team doesn t show in the next two minutes, you take off the handcuffs. You think I m going to let you walk out of here? (re: corpses on the floor) Not for a second. But these things are starting to chafe. Fine. She drops the handcuff keys on the table beside a smartphone. She taps the phone. Two minutes. But this is your problem, Mr. Rivers -- C mon, call me Rick. Wasting your time on puny wagers. Never seeing the big picture. You could never read the data and observe the patterns. What data? The data of your life. Everything we do, everything done to us, is recorded in one form or another, in one network or another. She sits again, pulls the chair closer to Rick.

14. Collecting it from all those sources, however, is something most people wouldn t even contemplate. And the computing power to analyze it all is the stuff of scientists dreams. But once you do it, the mysteries of the universe reveal themselves. You are, without a doubt, the most sophisticated stalker I ve ever seen. Don t flatter yourself. Data mining at this level is hardly a solo operation. But yes, every incident in your life has been analyzed. And Mr. Benjamin didn t know how right he was. You really are the luckiest man in the world. Feel bad for the rest of you then. Rick rattles his handcuffs. What is luck, Mr. Rivers? A genetic trait? Something in the environment? A luck particle that some people attract, absorb, or react to better than others? No one knows for certain. But what we do know is that luck -- unbelievable, outrageous, cosmically dumb luck -- is what you irrefutably have. And your luck is a renewable resource. So you re gonna farm me out to your own casinos?

15. The biggest bets aren t made in casinos. The stock market, whatever analysts will tell you, is as much about luck as anything else. Every campaign contribution is a bet, if you think about it. An investment in commodities is really a wager on the weather and crop conditions. And I thought I had a gambling problem. And with modern prediction markets you can wager on wars, plagues, assassinations -- anything that matters. All this so I can make bets for you on the weather? You re going to change the weather. You win whatever bets you make. That means what you bet on will come true because you re betting on it. Your bets, your luck, will shape the world in the Twenty-First Century. Sounds like someone else is gonna be doing the shaping. We have big plans for you. The phone s timer chimes. Keeps chiming. Must be stuck in traffic. Rick rattles the handcuffs. Desiree goes to the table, silences the phone.

16. Another lucky bet. She leaves him cuffed, returns to the windows. Hey, we had a deal. Oh, I ll let you out. Right before we stuff you in an oversized suitcase. Don t I get a phone call? You don t have anyone to call. And who do you think we are, the police? CIA? This is bigger than any government. We have searched the world for you. And now we re going to change the world. Desiree plucks a jumbo shrimp from the Room Service cart. Forgot how hungry I was. She pops the shrimp in her mouth. Coughs. Keeps coughing. Something go down the wrong pipe? Food allergy? Heck of a time to find that out. She looks to Rick. He shrugs, rattling his handcuffs again. Her face turns red. Think there s something you missed in all the data. Desiree staggers, grabs a chair.

17. Like how for all the good luck I had, everyone else around me had really, really bad luck. She bends herself over the chair, tries to give herself the Heimlich Maneuver. but she s only turning a deeper shade of purple. Computers have these things in them called heat sinks. They suck up all the heat around them, so all the computer parts stay cool. Desiree collapses on the floor. She rolls over, reaches for the keys. That s what I am: A heat sink. I get all the good luck, and everyone around me gets the bad luck. Eyes bulging, Desiree crawls across the carpet toward Rick. That on your spreadsheet? Desiree flings the keys to Rick. They land at his feet. Her eyes close. She stops struggling. Lies there, lifeless. Rick hops, turns his chair around......and flings himself onto his back, atop the keys. He feels around beneath him for the keys. Squirms a bit, twists... CLICK! Free of the cuffs, he kneels beside Desiree. Feels for her pulse along her neck. Nothing. (VO) There is a balance in the universe. He heads for the door.

18. INT. CASINO LOBBY DAY Outside the elevators, five lean-and-mean AGENTS dressed as bellmen flank a luggage cart holding an oversized suitcase. (VO) All your good luck is cancelled out by someone else s bad luck. Or in my case, everyone else s bad luck. A set of elevator doors open. The agents wheel the cart inside. The doors close. Another set of elevator doors open. Out steps Rick. (VO) In the end, you ll be right back where you started. And if your luck is like mine, you ll find yourself back in The Twilight Zone. He heads for the exits, disappears into the night. THE END FADE OUT.