Precious Cargo

EXT. Busy Metropolitan Streets - Day

A BIKE MESSENGER weaves in and out of traffic-packed streets. His aggressive navigation around cars, buses, and even other bikers brings him close to collision several times. The tubular parcel jutting out of his backpack is less fortunate and receives a few nicks from rear-views, lampposts and building corners. His focus is intense and the curses he bellows at his fellow transients are bitter, ruthless, and accurate. He takes often sips from the tube of his CamelBak.

INT. Generic Office Building - A few minutes later

The Messenger approaches the reception desk, the clips of his shoes echoing through the marble lobby. He takes the parcel out of his backpack and jabs his bike seat in its place. His sweat-soaked spandex is faded and torn from not-so-near misses. The exposed flesh of his elbows, forearms, knees, and shins are covered with fresh and slow-healing road wounds.

Two VISITORS are being signed in by a middle-aged female RECEPTIONIST. The Messenger leans in between the visitors and drops the tube in front of her. The visitors flinch away.

RECEPTIONIST
Uhh... Excuse me. I can help you in just a second.

MESSENGER
(waves a hand)
Just put it in the mail.

RECEPTIONIST
But who's it going to? What department?

MESSENGER
I dunno. Johnson or something in...
Marketing, maybe.

RECEPTIONIST
This looks like an architect parcel.

He snaps and smiles.

RECEPTIONIST
Floor?

He checks his watch, rolls his eyes, shrugs, and points up.

MESSENGER
Those things have labels for a reason. Say,
mind if I use your break room real quick?

He leans away toward a door to the left of the desk. A sign to the side of the door reads, "Employees Only." The receptionist inspects the tattered tube.

RECEPTIONIST
The break room is for employees only.
You know, this parcel is really damaged.

INT. Break room - continuous

Several employees are taking their breaks, fixing their lunches, reading papers, chatting together at acceptable volumes. The Messenger pushes the door open with his shoe, the clip scraping as it slides down.

MESSENGER
Mornin', slaves.

A clock on the wall reads 1:13pm.

He drops his CamelBak in an empty chair next to a MAN filling out a crossword puzzle. The man glares and turns away in his chair.

At the counter, the Messenger groans as he sees that the coffee pot is empty. He picks it up and raises both hands, scattering the remaining coffee drops. He oscillates a glare at the people in the room.

MESSENGER
Can't believe it. A day like today
and you guys empty-pot me. Nice.

He fixes fresh coffee--double-brewed--and makes a mess in the process: grounds and uncooperative filters litter the counter top. While the coffee brews, he wanders the room.

MONTAGE:

A) He peaks over the shoulder of the man doing the crossword puzzle.

MESSENGER
34-down is ascot. A man's necktie. That's an ascot.
Fred from Scooby Doo wore one. Don't ask me how
I know that--I have no idea. But it's true.

B) A woman reads the sixth Harry Potter book.

MESSENGER
Don't bother. He doesn't die in the last one.
Totally lame. Pretty sure, anyway.

C) The Messenger stands in front of the open fridge, peaking into take-out and Tupperware containers, smelling them and throwing some into a large garbage receptacle.

MESSENGER
What's wrong with you heathens? Most of this
stuff has soured or was crap to begin with.

END MONTAGE

The coffee maker beeps. The Messenger grabs the pot and brings it to his table. He uncorks his CamelBak and pours the entire pot into the reservoir, spilling some in the process, scalding his fingers and spattering the man's crossword.

MESSENGER
(to man)
Uhh... looks like 12 across is coffee stain. Heh.

He re-corks the reservoir and carefully slips on the CamelBak, sucking in through his teeth until he gets used to the heat on his back. His face twists in disgust when he sucks on the tube, and he spits into the sink.

MESSENGER
The old stuff in the tube's always the worst--
am I right?
(takes another sip)
Mmm... Sumatra? Gourmet shit!

The Messenger waves a parting hand to the people.

MESSENGER
Peace, beuches. I'm out.

CROSSWORD MAN
(glances up)
Bye, Chris.

MESSENGER
It's Dan, but that's cool.

He turns on his clips, throws open the door, and walks out. The man dabs at a dot of coffee on his crossword and tastes it. After a second, he pulls a napkin from the middle of the table and wipes away the rest.