"BLADE RUNNER 2049" (2017)

SOARING OVER

AN INFINITE ARTIFICIAL LANDSCAPE OF SOLAR PANELS AND PLASTIC SHEETING. All dead and abandoned to the dust and wind. Finally giving way to --

Called farm only generously. The ground dry, inhospitable. A dubious horizon to distinguish the browns that are both Earth and sky. There is no green in sight.

The landscape streaks by in a blur. Nothing to tame our focus until... REVEAL:

A SPINNER

Beaten, scuffed, yet owns the sky like a seagull. It flits RIGHT BY US, as we MOVE INSIDE --

THE PILOT IS ASLEEP. The Spinner on autopilot. The MAP on the dash is abruptly interrupted by A CHIME.

The pilot wakes. Yawns.

This is K. You’d peg him for 30 if you didn’t know better. Refined features, flawless skin. Intelligent eyes that breathe in detail and exhale warmth. Gifted with a grin that masks wry for earnest.

SHAPES begin to coalesce ahead in the distance. Revealing themselves to be PLASTIC GREENHOUSES.

K’s eyes go hard at seeing a strange INSTALLATION ahead.

K directs the Spinner towards...

TRAVELLING WITH THE SPINNER over remains of abandoned greenhouses. PLASTIC DOMES over what were once POOLS.

A windmill stands above it all. Slowly, creakily rotating. Its bent wing hitting the center pole as it strikes 6 o’clock... creakCLACK... creakCLACK... creakCLACK...

The Spinner’s SHADOW rolls over the windmill. Approaching --

Cement walls and corrugated tin roof. An old school maybe. Beside it a PLASTIC TENTED POOL.

Under a translucent dome. A bull of a FARMER stands knee deep in a pool full of sludge, raking a nutrient rich solution. Bio-reactors slowly filtered the fluid into vertical plasmid sacs that feed into LARGE BINS.

The Farmer wears thick protective gear from head to toe. Hood and goggles cover his face. He takes up a handful of NEMATODES, pleased with his crop. Looks up as --

THE SPINNER SOARS OVERHEAD.

The Farmer sets down his rake.

The Spinner lands in the open field behind the house, kicking up a PLUME of DUST that briefly obscures it.

A small flitty HOVERCRAFT ejects itself from the back of the Spinner, A PILOTFISH.

K emerges from the dust. Whatever color his coat was, it’s brown now. K instructs with the Pilotfish with a gesture.It TAKES OFF.

K approaches the peeling-paint farmhouse. ONE TREE in sight, a giant, DEAD, leafless thing. A ghost of grandiosity, standing only thanks to a brace and wires staked down.

K crosses creaking floors. Looks around: Kalsomined walls, pitted windows. All old, but clean. Someone takes pride. Basic furniture, an UPRIGHT PIANO. Otherwise EMPTY. No decor, shelves BARE.

K inspects the few items. Sheet music for CHOPIN on the piano. An aquarium in which COWSLIPS grow...

A pot of something fragrant simmers on the stove... K leans into the pot, sniffs deeply, when --

HEAVY FOOTSTEPS come from outside. Rattling the whole house.

K re-lids the pot, as --

The Farmer approaches his home. Air HISSES in at the unfastening of his MASK. He eyes the Spinner parked beyond the tree. Sees the Pilotfish hovering above. Pulls a chain. A DECONTAMINATION SHOWER rains over his suit, which he can now unsnap.

This is SAPPER MORTON. Weathered 60s. A well-broken nose. Yet he pulls from his belt satchel a set of dainty glasses.

THE DOOR OPENS. Sapper steps in. The floor creaks under his weight.

He scans the room. Empty. Sapper moves to a sink where he violently scrubs his hands. He does not yet see K.

K leans from a shadow into the light. A stranger, suddenly visible. Briefly ominous. An uncertain moment...

Sapper eyes K’s chummy posture. Dismisses any threat.

Sapper fishes a clod off his boot and pulls off a single wriggling WORM.

K looks to that inviting pot on the stove. Sapper shakes his head, pleased with himself. Opens a cupboard, where a grow light nourishes PLANTS. A few FLOWERS. And a bottle terrarium full of GREEN SHOOTS.

He looks. The pot on the stove bubbles and steams.

Sapper cocks his head at the comment. K notes the SATCHEL at his belt.

A beat. Sapper’s expressiondarkens. He takes off his glasses puts them in his satchel.

REVEAL: Sapper has A SCALPEL from his satchel. Not likely.

K puts his gun on the table.

K stands and retrieves a small SCANNER from his pocket.

K activates the scanner.

The FIGHT is quick and it is fierce:

Sapper stabs towards K’s heart. K avoids the blade, only his coat and the wall are pierced by Sapper’s knife now stuck deep into the wall. K breaks Sapper’s hold on the knife, which skids to the floor.

K DUCKS a heavy fist that sinks into the wall where his head just was. Sapper grabs K by his belt and collar, lifting him into the air and slamming him into the wall over and over -- until K’s body GOES THROUGH IT, and --

K crashes onto the floor in the next room.

K recovers quickly, strangely able to withstand the punishment. He sees Sapper charge through the wall to finish the job.

Sapper is on him -- a vice lock around K’s throat -- K gasping for air.

K gets out of Sapper’s grip, and lashes out in rapid succession, his solar plexus, his chin, his throat, crushing his windpipe. His blows are SURGICAL, anatomically precise, like viper bites.

Sapper is stunned, choking, in pain. K kicks Sappers’ knee and the giant drops to the floor like a felled oak tree.

K SNATCHES Sapper’s THROAT -- SQUEEZING -- thumb SLIDING UPWARD as -- Sapper GASPS... FLAILS... hand reaching...

For the dropped SCALPEL... GRASPING IT!

HE STABS K in the SHOULDER.

K accepts the wound and the pain. Only squeezes tighter.

Sapper’s EYES ROLL BACK -- the desired effect -- REVEALING: A PINPRICK OF COLOR on the underside of the right EYEBALL.

K draws the SCANNER -- which reads the point like a bar code. It confirms Sapper’s ID.

K stops holding back -- SNAPS Sapper’s remaining good arm -- grabs his GUN that has fallen on the floor beside the table.

Sapper raises up still fighting for air.

Sapper gives a zealot’s grin. Ready to die for a cause only he understands. Eager for it. HE RUSHES K.

THE GUN THUNDERS.

HOLD ON THE GUN. So we only HEAR Sapper’s body DROP.

K breathes heavy. Checks his wound. Sees his BLOOD on his FINGERS.

Blood trickles onto fallen sheet music. Staining Chopin.

K smooths himself back to dignity. Leans over the body. Then PAUSES. Crosses the room. Finds a spoon. Hesitates.

Tastes the soup. Hmmm. Garlic.

K steps out. Looks up at a sliver of sun eking through the dense clouds. The Pilotfish is hovering above the farm.

In one hand he holds SAPPER’S GLASSES. In the other he holds a small, clear CASE. INSIDE IS SAPPER’S EYE. He staggers toward his Spinner. Gestures to the Pilotfish.

The Pilotfish rises to take pictures of the farm.

K taps a button on the dash. An LAPD LOGO comes up.

ON SCREEN comes the perpetually disappointed face of LT. JOSHI. A 50ish woman. Ambitious, officious, impatient. K’s backtalk gives fuel to her irritation so she tolerates it. Or maybe she just likes the look of him. More than she should. She sees his BLOODY shoulder.

In answer K holds up the CASE with SAPPER’S EYE. The pinprick of his CODE below the cornea. It SCANS. Sapper’s SERIAL NUMBER and history open. A NEXUS 8 for the curious.

MORE NEXUS 8 IDs flit by. All wanting to be retired.

Something catches K’s eye. By that TREE. Low to the ground. The smallest pop of YELLOW... against a dirt brown world.

He kneels at the foot of the tree to find:

A SINGLE, SLENDER COWSLIP. Left leaning against a root.

K lifts it to his eye. As if moved by its delicacy. He considers the long dead tree. Gestures to the Pilotfish --

The Pilotfish begins a spiral over the area.

ON THE SCREEN: An ULTRASOUND of the ground below. Root systems. A cracked foundation. And there, buried DEEP under the tree... A SMALL SEALED SQUARE FOOTLOCKER.

Joshi sees it in her office as well. Annoyed at more work.

Joshi SIGHS, annoyed.

The Pilotfish attaches itself to the spinner as it takes off.

Camera moves toward the tree as we --

LIGHTNING shatters the sky into irregular jigsaw shapes. Indeed, there is a storm collecting to the north. We are...

SOARING OVER

The breathtaking cityscape skyline of dystopian grime.30 years older. Sweatier. Sucked of oxygen. If LA then was a giant oil refinery then, now it is industrial bones jutting out of a new city built atop the old. And spread far as the eye can see. What were streets are canyons that cut deep down to the strata below. Who knows how far.

K’S SPINNER

Is a single bulb in the Christmas tree. Part of the SPINNER TRAFFIC that lights up the sky. Now gliding for the city’s poorer, uglier center. A seizure of ADVERTISEMENT, interactive and bright. In the distance is a massive structure: THE SEPULVEDA SEAWALL.

We see K through his rain streaked windshield as the Spinner banks and begins its descent toward a grey cinder block of a building. RUNNING LIGHTS illuminate a LANDING PAD at the top of the LAPD TOWER / DIVISION 5.

Lifeless architecture. Huge, with worn out plastic features. Call it functional to be nice.

Though it is late it is CROWDED. Bloody-nosed K walks through a chaotic hive of crime processing. CRIMINALS pleading cases at plexi-covered booths... or shouting into payport phone banks...

The HUMAN COPS still manage to get in K’s way, sure to remind him of his place and esteem as a Replicant.

If that bothers K he does not let on.

A clinical room that was white a decade ago maybe. The INTERVIEWER can be heard but not seen.

The long barrelled LENS of a specialized CAMERA slides back and forth to find its specific focus on K, who sits on a stool. Coat off and on his lap. Dry blood on his cut shirt. He stares ahead at the camera. Compliant and still.

The CAMERA alters its focus accusingly. Locks in.

A moment’s hesitation. Then --

A pause, a grinding of unseen machinery, the camera powering down, then --

K’s eyes look to the eye of the camera.

A POLICE SPINNER glides low overhead. A small ADVERTISEMENT DRONE hovers like an insect, projecting 3D ads in the smoggy atmosphere. A HUGE SNOW MELTING MACHINE moves down the street, clearing the slush. It passes to REVEAL --

K. He pushes past the occlusion of PEOPLE buttoned against the cold. Crosses the windblown street. Gutters heaped with dirty snow as more dirty snow falls. Fat, sooty flakes.

He carries a newly purchased PACKAGE under his arm.

A grand, old office building. TILT DOWN the building’s facade as K enters...

The office building has been hastily and cheaply retrofitted for residential living. DENSELY crowded with FAMILY LIFE.

The many RESIDENTS, too poor or genetically problematic to get Off-World, treat the halls and stairway landings like a dorm commons. An extension of their own homes.

Pungent signs of ethnicity everywhere. Colors, carpets, clothes. As many languages as shades of skin. K gives a nod of acknowledgment to a man smoking in the hall. Is acknowledged back with a stream of foreign epithets that follow him up...

FIND K ON THE STAIRS

Walking up 80 stories. Stiff from the fight. An OLD WOMAN bumps into him, expecting him to get out of her way.No one he passes the least glad to see a Replicant.

K crosses the hall. ALL his NEIGHBORS’ DOORS are open like market stalls letting in air and letting out CHILDREN.Every home thickly filled, like a hoarder’s garage. Some host SHOPS. FOOD STALLS. Every floor like a town square.

K walks past and to his apartment. A BOY, brown-faced, missing an ear, looking up at K, with curiosity and fear.

K opens the lock. Disappears inside. The only one to close his door, which is tagged with a GRAFFITI: “FUCK OFF SKINNER.”

PUSH IN ON K’S WINDOW, as a LIGHT turns on within...

A sparsely adorned space in clear contrast to his neighbors. No pretense of cultural heritage. A simple chair. On its arm a valueless paperback novel, well-thumbed, noted, creased. Nabokov’s maddening “PALE FIRE” as it happens, not that we make a thing of it.

K walks in with his package, trying to be discreet, he hides it as...

He turns on a CONSOLE. Perhaps a MUSIC PLAYER, which spins a SINATRA song, “Summer Winds.”

K takes off his coat. Seems more annoyed at the scalpel tear in the fabric than the shoulder wound he sustained under it.

WOMAN’S VOICE (O.S.) K! I didn’t hear you. You’re early!

Just hearing it helps take away the pain. K relaxes into this normal domestic scene.

K washes off the day’s dust and blood. Jets shower. Five seconds of water.

K at a mirror eyes his shoulder WOUND.

He squeezes the contents of a thin nosed TUBE onto it. Platelet jelly. The skin rebonds. Gluing it after all.

K cooks in a corridor kitchen that looks like one we would find in a very old space station. He cooks with dexterity, trying to be light, as he makes a prefab meal.

K crosses in, pours two drinks. Sits on a chair in the middle of the living room. Neighbors at the window, a couple, on the other side of the street. Ordinary life.

K plays at indignation but is glad for her thoughtfulness. K’s life is not lonely and that is something in this world.

K drinks the two drinks poured, sits to eat the meal he made.

He opens a CASE. Inside: Five cigarettes. A commodity. He sets ONE onto an ashtray.

We hear CUTLERY gather. We hear FOOTSTEPS.

REVEAL: JOI.

Not a real woman at all. A digital companion. PROJECTED from a hard line CONSOLE unit mounted on tracks along the ceiling, and restricting her existence to this space. Goddess, girlfriend, geisha and, right now, goddamn bombshell. Ingeniously real in every way except the one that counts.

She holds a plate of steak frites. Not real of course. An illusion of satisfaction. Just like Joi in her APRON over a sweater set and pearls. Waiting for him with dinner on the table and drink in hand like a cartoon 60s housewife.

(NOTE: Joi cannot interact with physical objects. Any “object” she manipulates is a holo representation, like her. Nor does she move when unobserved by K; when he turns away for any length of time she shifts into idle animations.)

She sets the plate atop his sad prefab bowl of actual food. Kisses him on the cheek.

CLOSE ON: HIS SKIN. Brushed by the butterfly kiss of her cloud. Palpable but not tangible.

K is moved by the gesture. He puts the cigarette to his lips. Joi leans in close. Puts up a finger... Juuuust teasingly touching the tip of the cigarette... until... a tiny STATIC SPARK ignites an ember.

He draws, and his cigarette lights. He blows the smoke into Joi, making her hologram all the more dense and real.

They look at each other. Joi studies him. She looks to the shelf. Notes Sapper’s glasses.

Her form seamlessly reverts back to her lissome baseline. Companionate, respectable, smart. The way he likes her. She “picks up” his copy of “Pale Fire,” hoping to cheer him up.

K smiles. She throws the book behind her back. The book disappears as it flies.

She straightens. Arm up to receive his and be led, wearing now a beautiful dress. And with that Joi wins. K has no choice but to put his day behind him.

Joi looks elated.

K smiles. Of course not.

He opens the box on... A DIGITAL DEVICE, size of a King Size Snickers. Joi visibly brightens with excitement.

K presses the console. Joi hesitates only a moment then... FADES AWAY.

A RESTART CHIME. A LOGO floats off the emanator: A SPHERE, surrounded by smaller spheres in orbit. WALLACE CORP, E&C.

K taps the emanator and, with a CHIME... Joi comes back online. THE EMANATOR conjures her even more realistically in every way. She moves about, her image unbroken as it was when projected from the hard line. She TWIRLS about, the pleats in the new dress conjured for the effect billow out. She loves it.

Joi considers, eyes sparkling with an idea. And we...

ON JOI. Rapt, eyes fixed on the gorgeous fractal skyline. The rain passes through her projection. In a well-programmed nod to physics her clothes get “wet,” stick to her skin.

LIGHTNING FIRES ABOVE. Joi does not flinch. Only flickers.

K raises his coat to cover the rain. Joi stays his hand.

He’s not. Stays wet.

Joi “takes” his hand. Static heightened by the conductive water clinging to his skin. She leads his hand to her waist. As if to dance.

She leans in close to his neck. Her exhaled “breath” tickles his lips. A smoky wet dream. He kisses her. She looks deep in his eyes. K kisses her neck, slowly... not breaking the illusion... The moment intensifies-- her breath escaping --

HER IMAGE GOES STATIC --

THEN FREEZES -- her face in a rictus of ecstacy, gorgeous in motion but the single frame out of context appears vulgar.

Joi’s face replaced by AN EMERGENCY PAGE. “VOICE MESSAGE. IMMEDIATE RESPONSE REQUIRED.” The POLICE LOGO. His time is entirely owned. The message plays:

K looks at Joi, their moment ruined. A chime from the emanator and she is gone.

ON A MACHINE. MOVING OVER A SKELETON ON AN EXAMINATION TABLE. Bones clean. Half assembled, half still in a 2X2X2 footlocker. A thick BRAID of HAIR CURLED beside it.An AUTOPSY is visible taking place in an adjacent room as --

A TECHNICIAN takes out the remaining bones one by one, and unwraps them -- as each has been individually wrapped in cotton rags with ritualistic care. A small bag contains the full set of teeth, which the Technician sets under a scanner.

A pug COP, NANDEZ, enjoys the show. A bigot with a mouth certain whatever comes out of it is funny. Recognizable as human as all humans stuck on Earth seem to be.

An awkward MORGUE TECH, COCO, joins. Means well but prone to nervous giggles. One of few who treats K with respect. Coco throws a SIM SCAN upscreen: Showing the bones REASSEMBLED.

The PELVIS centers. A FRACTURE. Similar pattern to the heat lighting. K ignores the holo, checks the actual bones, as --

K continues looking at the bones after Coco moves on.He sees something on the pelvis. Throws it upscreen. Enlarges the image until SCRAPES ALONG THE BONE are visible. Taps it.

Joshi considers. Eye to Coco. Is he right?

Coco checks the image. Whistles, goofily impressed.

K steps away. Picks up the thick BRAID. Considers it. Looks at the COWSLIP in an evidence bag. Stares at it.

He lifts the bone. The fractured ilium. Instinct engaged again. He puts it back upscreen.

WE CLOSE IN further and further on the sample. Down to cellular level. A FORM coming into focus.

ON K. AS HE SEES IT. EXPRESSION CHANGING.

K motions for Joshi to look. She sees his face, looks. Beat.

ON JOSHI. As we see what she does on the SCREEN:

LETTERS AND NUMBERS ETCHED ON A CELL. A SERIAL NUMBER.

K and Joshi look at each other facing incontrovertible truth.

Evercalm Joshi pours herself a drink. A safeguard on that calm. She picks up her drink with a shaking hand. Finally --

She quiets with the alcohol burn.

Stares out. Seeing too many steps ahead. Into darkness. She sets her glass down with finality. Finally looks to K, firm, declaring:

K catches on. What Joshi is asking.

Silence. Joshi scans K.

Just before leaving the room...

ON AN AD SPIRE as an AD PLAYS...FOR THE JOI DIJI. A sexed- up crass version winks at us. A MALE MODEL (DIJI BOI) also available. The jingle and copy come with the WALLACE LOGO:

“Whatever you want to see. Whatever you want to hear. Joi.”

K’s SPINNER flies by.

ON K through the SPINNER WINDOW, which reflects the riot of COLORFUL ADVERTISEMENTS. The city glisters below as K’S SPINNER soars toward...

The DARK abandoned structures of THE TYRELL CORPORATION PYRAMIDS... now overshadowed by THREE GIGANTIC BLADE SHAPED BUILDINGS: THE WALLACE TOWERS. Soaring clean lines in a craggy, sooted city.

K’s Spinner approaches the foot of the great TOWERS.

A huge, wide open space made of sandstone and lit by artificial sun beams. Doesn’t look like the lobby of a corporation, but the interior of a Nabataean Tomb.

A GREETER meets K and escorts him to --

A dead end corridor. GREETER goes away in the dark.

Leaving K standing before a too-chatty FILE CLERK. File Clerk’s booth looks like a bunker.

K sets the braid on a case. Clerk SCANS IT. A SERIAL NUMBER APPEARS ON THE MONITOR.

ON HIS MONITOR: AUTOCAPTURING THE SERIAL NUMBER. This as --

ON THE MONITOR: The autocapture SENDS, and --

A WOMAN’S HAND reaches for a small, delicate TEAPOT.Which she tilts and pours into a small, delicate teacup. She sits at a desk made of wood in a world without trees. REVEAL:

LUV. Polite, efficient. Perfect. Moral as a tornado and about as safe. Beautiful, yes. The way a sword can be if it’s safely behind glass.

Luv sits in a formal business meeting pose across ANOTHER WOMAN who sips tea across from her. A HOLO PROJECTION of someone off-world.

A LIGHT BLINKS in Luv’s earpiece. Some information received. A pause as she reacts to it. Sets down her cup.

She moves behind her desk. And sees the same AUTOCAPTURE on her screen. Off Luv...

Deep in the library’s belly, K walks with Clerk passing hundreds of ROWS OF DRAWERS.

Clerk locates and opens a drawer. Inside, neatly stacked, are thousands of thin, translucent CARDS. Clerk fingers through them, nostalgic while searching.

Clerk misses the joke. Surprised to find something:

A VOICE from OS interrupts --

K turns to see: LUV.

Clerk’s sphincter tightens at her arrival. Backs away.

Luv comes toward K. Hands tucked. Suit sensible. Every aspect immaculate. The flawless representative.

He steals a once over, understanding. She gives an unembarrassed nod of confession.

Luv leads K down stairs, lined with DISPLAY CASES. Each containing an outmoded model REPLICANT. DEAD and suspended in a clear preservative liquid. An historical record of their kind. Luv scarcely registers them, spinning the corporate thread --

She touches under her eye, where the pinprick is, winks.

K and Luv walking in a small basement corridor. A chime comes out of K’s pocket: his emanator.

Luv leads him toward a HEAVY DOOR.

She leans into a FACIAL RECOGNITION SCAN. It unlatches -- but stops before opening. STUCK. A nuisance.

Without a break in stride she PRIES into the door seam with her FINGERS to OPEN it. A show of tremendous force. Perhaps deliberate. After you...

Subzero temperatures preserve the data stored within and turns breath into smoke. Luv opens A WIDE, FLAT METAL DRAWER, one of DOZENS.

FILLED WITH THOUSANDS OF GLASSY SPHERES. Like eyes milky with cataracts. She pulls on gloves before handling them.

She locates and inspects one of them. Particularly cloudy.

She sets it into a PLAYER device. The bearing SPINS in the player... FIRES UP.

A title on the record: VOIGHT-KAMPFF TEST NOVEMBER 2019 OFFICER RICK DECKARD / SUBJECT # N6RRP40619.

Up comes A EXTREME-CLOSE IMAGE OF...

AN EYE

LARGE. LOVELY. A rich green we so far haven’t seen in the film. AN OLD VOIGHT-KAMPFF RECORDING. The eye BLINKS.

Over it comes a JUMBLE OF VOICES, falling in and out, incomplete audio. YET ALL HAUNTINGLY FAMILIAR.

ON K. WATCHING, AS --

MAN’S VOICE (O.S.) WOMAN’S VOICE (O.S.)

Have a little boy--butterfly collection plus the killing--

--I’d take him to the doctor--

--Feel a wasp crawling on your wrist-- --I should be enough for him--

this testing whether I’m a replicant or a lesbian--

--Just answer the question--

The IMAGE BREAKS OFF. REPEATS again in a LOOP. The eye BLINKS, the voices come. A ghost fragment of an indelible moment. Too brief. IT PLAYS OVER AND OVER AGAIN as --

She looks to that stunning EYE.

K takes in the replaying RECORDING. An instinct about it.

Did she just ask him a personal question? A beat.

She grins invitingly, and we --

K sits at a table, in front of a man, GAFF mid 70’s.An old woman is seated beside them, in a wheelchair. Gaff is wearing kind of hospital whites with an official ID tag: STAFF. He folds something in his hands.

Gaff looks K in the eye.

Gaff chuckles.

Gaff folded a delicate flower that he offers to the old lady.

CLOSE ON: A VENDING MACHINE. An animated version of a soju bottle rotates on a SCREEN next to a thousand other beverage choices similarly rotating. A THUMB presses and...

The soju is dispensed below. A CUSTOMER takes it. REVEAL:

THE MARKET. Subdivided by STALLS and STATIONS and SHOPS, all under BRIGHT LIGHTS. The ECLECTIC CROWD OF CUSTOMERS in a crush to purchase food and drink. And entertainments. Particularly outside...

An unabashed sex den. PATRONS enter to taste and experience with no more shame than they would the vending machines.

IN THE DOORWAY -- A PATRON flirts with his crassly customized JOI diji, both ignoring the DOXIES hustling to earn a living. As some do, as evidenced by the SHADOWS OF COUPLES WRITHING on the plexi front windows.

A WOMAN approaches the bar, commanding the doxies’ respect. Their HANDLER. Still strong 60, looks like she did her doxie time before turning management. Handler wears LARGE DARK GLASSES over her eyes. She spots something of interest in --

K IS AT A HIGH TOP TABLE. Grabbing a beer and quick meal of ramen with others doing the same. He studies PHOTOS from Sapper’s farm.

Handler signals to a TRIO OF DOXIES, including an alluring, hard core PUNK DOXIE. A nod in K’s direction.

The THREE DOXIES cross the market to approach K. Flank him at his table, studying the PHOTOS: The FARM. The BONES. Dead SAPPER MORTON.

DOXIE #2 Hello hello A-Boy... You alone ?

DOXIE #3 recognizes him. TELLS THE OTHERS, DISGUSTED.

DOXIE #3 (in FINNISH, UNTRANSLATED) Leave him, he is a fucking Blade Runner... I’ve seen him. This guy is dangerous. You coming?

She and the second back off, put off. Punk Doxie (MARIETTE) doesn’t seem to mind. She gives her most inviting grin. But K’s not interested.

She sits next to him anyway. She eyes his PHOTOS, trying to make conversation. She sees the IMAGE OF THE HUGE TREE on the farm.

A CHIME from the emanator in his pocket. He turns it off. Mariette takes the hint.

K has a good comeback in the chamber, but lets her get the last word for her benefit and to give her a good exit.

Alone again, K drinks. Looks again at the photo of THE TREE.

Considers it. Traces its dry, empty branches with a finger.

THE TREE ITSELF. We are --

Evidence of the dig nearby.

K moves inside the house, scanning. Sees the Chopin’s music sheet on the floor, stained with blood.

K tries a few notes. One of the note has no sound, only a felt hammer tapping wood.

He opens the top of the piano. SOMETHING IS HIDDEN INSIDE:

A TOBACCO TIN. HE OPENS IT. Inside is --

AN OLD PHOTO. OF A BEAUTIFUL YOUNG WOMAN. A BABY IN HER ARMS. The great tree alive and IN BLOOM behind her.

K pockets the photo. Checks the tin. The photo was covering something else.

K picks it up. Holds it to the light. Eyes gleaming:

A BABY’S SOCK

K stands in front of the farmhouse, by the tree. Sees a SINGLE NEMATODE crawling along the cold dirt. Picks it up. Watches it wriggle. He sets it down to continue its journey. “It only takes the one.”

K sees something carved on one of the tree’s roots, hidden by dirt and sand. REVEAL:

A DATE: CARVED ON THE ROOT. Like a grave marker. 6/10/21

ANGLE OVER THE TREE LOOKING DOWN AT K. Kneeling beside it.

ON K. Stricken by what he sees. He traces the date with his finger. As if to prove it’s real -- stands suddenly.

K moves determinedly towards his Spinner, at which we REVEAL:

THE FARMHOUSE IS ON FIRE. BURNING TO THE GROUND.

FOLLOW LUV

As she climbs a set of marble stairs, to reach...

Like a meditation garden. Or a temple. A dim room lit by spears of artificial sunlight. A great fish-filled POND owns the floor but for the square stone islands, a school of koi.

Luv steps over the stone path across the pond to the far end, by an arrangement of decadent chairs. There is a nervous clip to her voice.

A VOICE ECHOES in reply, coming from everywhere.

Luv pauses. Asked what she hoped would not be.

A little black drone like a BARRACUDA moves from the darkness towards Luv.

Luv stops, says nothing. Hating to disappoint him.

A pause. Then the Barracuda moves past Luv. It joins...

A SMALL CLUSTER of BARRACUDAS that float toward Luv in the LIT center of the room. They undulate in watery formation at eye level like Medusa would ask of her snakes, to precede --

NIANDER WALLACE

Shadow shrouded. Commanding in his silences, which are few. Older, yet at the height of powers that still increase as if by magic. Only when he steps into the LIGHT do we see --

WALLACE IS BLIND. The probes act as his eyes.

A dark room dominated by a cascading PLASTIC SHEET.The sheeting rises, slowly, to unveil --

A NUDE FEMALE REPLICANT. Fully formed. Suspended in repose. Covered in viscous liquid, like honey.

The Replicant collapses to the ground.

Something happens when she is exposed to the cold air:She WAKES. AN INCEPT.

A first breath. Consciousness coming on anew. A first flutter of the eyes. A slow realization of light. Of cold.

OF WALLACE STARING AT HER.

Wallace’s hand touches her face. Turns it. Caresses it. “Seeing” her with his fingers.

The Replicant Model bristles in mute terror of a world she cannot understand. Shivering. Cold and fear commingled.

Wallace now sits on a small Japanese stool, cleaning his hands with a cloth.

The new Replicant sits in front of him, wrapped in a sheet.

Wallace’s fingers feel for a TRAY of INSTRUMENTS. He clasps A BLADE.

Luv holds back. Knows better than to help without asked as he begins his examination.

Ah, “luv.” A diminutive. Not a name at all, though taken for one. Luv brings a small wooden box. INSIDE THE box are several small DEVICES, the size of LEGO bricks: HALOS. Each with electrodes on the inside. Luv selects one of them.

She comes with the HALO -- which attaches with a practiced motion neatly into a FLASH SHOE on the back of Wallace’s head at the lambdoidal suture.

The electrodes fit into wetware receivers within and... the device glows to match the new light in the Barracudas’ eyes, enabled.

Luv’s hands shake as she closes the box. Beyond respect, she lives in perpetual awe of him.

A formation of BARRACUDAS come around Wallace... Then moves toward the Replicant model predatorily.

The Replicant model stands in front of Wallace, still siting on his stool. He “sees” her with the flying probes, which move over her, inspecting her like chattel. Up and down. Her hands. Mouth.

A scalpel blade dances in his fingers.

Wallace stands, walks toward the Model.

He runs the SCALPEL’S dull edge under the Model’s CHIN to raise it. Stills her when she again shivers.

He runs the dull edge along the entire length of the Model.

He touches the Model’s abdomen at the navel.

With a swift motion he CUTS the Model across the ABDOMEN. She stands for an uneasy moment as he continues:

He drops the scalpel.

THE MODEL COLLAPSES.

ON LUV: An eye waters at the thought of disappointing him.

He reaches behind his head, removes the HALO. Preferring the darkness.

ON LUV: Her jaw sets. She will not disappoint Mr. Wallace. PRELAP: FOOTSTEPS, CLACKING, ECHOING down a hall --

Lines of grubby CRIMINALS await their turn at processing booths. Crowded enough one pisses against a wall in his handcuffs and none of the low-watt cops notice him -- or --

LUV

She crosses the chaotic hall unnoticed, determined. She will not disappoint.

WITH COCO: Entering...

He finds LUV casually packing the BONES back into a satchel. Confused by her calm.

She pauses, briefly annoyed. Then brings a wide, inviting smile.

She hands him a femur and, with her hand free --

Her fist JABS his back -- INSTANTLY PULVERIZING HIS C6 --

ON THE FLOOR. As Coco crumples. Twitches disturbingly.

ON LUV. Going back to taking what she needs as Coco dies noisily at her feet. A bullet would’ve been slower. PRELAP: A LONG ZIPPER, CLOSING UP --

-- OVER COCO’S FACE. A BODY BAG. Enclosing him. A smudge of blood on his still cheek the last thing we see.

ON Joshi. Watching it happen. Knows why it’s happening.

K stares at A PHOTO: The DATE carved in the tree. Something about it haunts him. Just then --

A KNOCK at his door. Surprising. He doesn’t get visitors. He opens the door to find --

JOSHI. Unusual visit. Nothing friendly about it either. She steps in, keeps her coat on. Hands in pockets.

Joshi looks around anyway, fear masquerading as caution.She checks the hard line, THE CEILING TRACK PROJECTOR. Turns OFF the power to it definitively.

K says nothing more. Knows Joshi is pissed. Maybe scared.

A pause. Then K points to the table. The sock.

They both look at the sock and feel the weight of that discovery.

Joshi considers. Sees that PHOTO K lingered over. Of the tree. The DATE CARVED in it.

Joshi stares hard. K looks away. Beat.

Coco’s murder, the future she sees -- it all frightens her. A first hint of something soft under the ice.

She helps herself to a glug from K’s bottle.

She picks up the sock. Considers it.

Joshi is whatever comes past tipsy. Not a woman who opens up or lets go often, she is doing so now. Her coat off. Reclined on the couch. Unguarded. She needed this.

K is beside her, seated upright. He doesn’t drink. Deferential, as if this was her place not his.

She empties her glass. Pours again. K’s eye doesn’t leave her pour -- we see she is using K’s single beloved book for a coaster, spills a little. No idea it’s precious to him.

She kicks him. C’mon. K sits back, a little embarrassed.

K closes his eyes, the images washing over him.

INSERT CUT: K’S MEMORY: Watery. Indistinct. A CHILD’S POV OF A CAVERNOUS INDUSTRIAL STRUCTURE. A WORLD OF RUST. A MAZE OF STAIRS. FOOTSTEPS CHASING AFTER.

A FURNACE RAGES WITH FIRE. He moves to THE DARK PLACES BEHIND. The child’s hand opens a secret space in the back.

THE LARGER BOYS FIND THE CHILD IN FRONT OF THE FLAMES.

BACK TO: K. His eyes open. The spell of memory broken.

Joshi looks at him. A little too long. Looks at the bottle.

K doesn’t react.

Joshi pulls away. Rises. Coat back on. The armor back up.

And she’s gone. And we --

The unpopulated recesses of the station. A mausoleum for hard copy files. K negotiates an ancient security interface.

A reply from the machine in JAPANESE.

The SECURITY SLATE IDS him. “K D6-3.7. APPROVED USER.” It comes to life. The SLATE prompts: “ENTER DAY”

The SLATE CHIMES a warning. “PRE-BLACKOUT INFORMATION. NO DATA FOUND.”

ANOTHER CHIME.

ANOTHER CHIME. “ALL EXEGETIC DATA CORRUPTED.” Annoyed --

The SLATE recedes. A FAN begins to WHIR as a VIEWING DEVICE comes to life. Like an old moviola. Blinders on each side. K situates himself in front of it -- CLICKS on the emanator -- and cranks the machine.

A DATAFLOW begins on its SCREEN. A CASCADE OF ONLY FOUR LETTERS: A-C-T-G. RAW GENETIC CODE. WITH NO IDENTIFYING CONTEXTUAL DATA TO LINK WITH SPECIFIC TRAITS. ONLY RAW CODE OF DNA FINGERPRINTING.

The LETTERS flow like millions of snowflakes. Intense, numbing, seizure inducing, incomprehensible.

The information flickers across K’s face. His concentration holds. Taking it all in. Missing nothing.

THREE PILLS

Set on a table. A DeNAbase TECH, a dim, simple TEEN, brought them for K -- who rubs his headached eyes. Tech looks at the oppressive avalanche of data. He speaks FARSI, SUBTITLED:

K dry swallows the pills, head pounding.

Tech reluctantly obliges, steps out. K is alone with the ongoing dataflow, absorbing it. A beat then...

JOI APPEARS BEHIND HIM. K couldn’t resist. She drapes a hand over a shoulder, not to interrupt. Watching the dataflow like a movie, enthralled. Amazing.

She slides behind him, her hands “rubbing” his shoulders -- so we can HOLD ON K as --

IN JOI’S HAND IN FRONT OF K: JOI CONJURES THE TOY HORSE FROM K’S MEMORY. She shows the date carved under it: 6/10/21

K COVERS HER HAND TO STOP HER. Looks around cautiously.

Her hand strokes his cheek. A whisper in his ear. Seductive. Close. Everything he wants to hear.

He quiets. Just then -- K sees something in the dataflow. Sits up suddenly.

The snowstorm of LETTERS FREEZES. K moves close. Sees something remarkable in the chaos.

The datasets comply. All other information falls away as two chains of DNA move side by side. Then OVERLAP so we can see: THE LETTERS OF EACH OF THEM MATCH EXACTLY.

It READS and translates the THE DNA CHAINS. Sorting the LETTERS into codon groups of THREE, which string into LONG CHAINS (proteins), and then finally into WORDS.

ONE SET IS LABELED FEMALE 2181, DECEASED. THE OTHER: MALE 4847, NO ADDITIONAL DATA.

K manipulates the data. Looking for attendant files.

ON THE DNA SET: A SPECIFIC SECTION OF CODE HIGHLIGHTS.

ON K. PUTTING IT TOGETHER. OF COURSE.

K considers. Looks back to her.

Joi grins, brightens. Anywhere.

K’S SPINNER emerges out of the FOG, flies south over the RAINY outer ring of the city. Away from the mass to where the city finally THINS. High enough to see a monumental and cascading SEA WALL which dwarfs the Spinner.

Joi looks out at the rain-streaked view of the lights below.

The RAIN beats heavy against the roof and windows. K flies them over the gigantic ruins of an AERIAL HIGHWAY SUPERSTRUCTURE looming threateningly under the rain’s shadow.

The multi-tiered structure’s side BLAZES with the harsh electric light of AN AD SPIRE.

A GIANT AD PLAYS, for a tacky erotic version of JOI: Whatever you want. Joi.

Joi looks away. Ashamed of it.

She smiles her gratitude. They fly on...

FAR BELOW the city begins to thin. The buildings eventually run out and give way... as we...

The COAST is bald. Trees long gone. A hint of OCEAN at the edge of vision. Angry, low slung CLOUDS grumble with THUNDER above. A STORM done holding its breath.

K’S SPINNER FLIES... toward a strange RANGE OF ODDLY TEXTURED HILLOCKS... FLATTENED at the tops like MESAS...

Joi looks out the window at the rain. REVEAL the MESAS are... MOUNTAINS OF TRASH. Piled atop ruined buildings.

K AND JOI’S POV, LOOKING DOWN AT:

Our landfills expanded to become part of the geography. Tacky and textured. Trodden vermiculated paths up and down their sides. MASSIVE AERIAL TRACTORS deposit MORE trash over calcified trash.

The moment they do DOZENS OF SCAVENGER BEDOUINS chitter over the surface to collect it. An entire race living off refuse.

THE SPINNER RATTLES. LIGHTING from the storm.

K smiles to Joi to reassure her and takes the Spinner down... INTO THE MESAS. They SOAR on. Beyond the wrecks of buildings comes...

The wrecks of SHIPS... Ships and ship parts for miles...

K flies over the massive hulks. Firelight glows from inside them suggesting PEOPLE LIVING WITHIN. SCAVENGERS chitter over the surface.

Another RATTLE as -- GUNFIRE HITS THE SPINNER. STRAFING FIRE COMING FROM THE MESA. K looks out to see --

Someone below is SHOOTING at his Spinner, which flies too high. Bullets POCK harmlessly against the glass.

K flies over a LARGE OVERTURNED FREIGHTER. On it --

THE SCAVENGER LEADER holds a makeshift LONG RANGE GUN. Watching. He takes aim... tracking the Spinner, and --

BOOM! THE SPINNER LURCHES.

K looks back, sees -- A LONG METAL BOLT has punctured a rear quarterpanel -- A SHOT FIRED FROM THE MESA -- where --

The SCAVENGER watches. Waiting.

K thinks nothing of it... not seeing... THE IMPALED BOLT TRAILS A LONG MICRO-FILAMENT...

That sprouts a KITE. That RISES... UP... INTO THE CLOUDS...

Where A HUGE STATIC CHARGE BUILDS in a RUMBLE overhead...

LIGHTNING FIRES!

A MASSIVE ELECTRICAL DISCHARGE RUNS DOWN THE FILAMENT -- AND STRIKES THE SPINNER!

THE SPINNER STALLS. ENGINES FAILING.

POWER goes out inside, just as --

JOI FLICKERS AND DISAPPEARS.

K sees SMOKE coming off the engine, slaps an emergency system to activate it, as --

THE SPINNER’S NOSE DROPS. BEGINS TO SPIRAL DOWN!

K tries to control the crash. Steering with one hand, working the controls furiously with the other.

The GROUND closing in -- K REACHES TO GRAB THE EMANATOR AS IT SLIDES OVER THE PASSENGER SEAT -- he clutches it tight --

ROCKETS FIRE UNDER THE SPINNER TO DAMPEN THE IMPACT AS --

THE SPINNER CRASHES INTO A VALLEY OF TRASH!

POV FROM A MESA: The rain stops. The Spinner smokes.

K IS INSIDE. Unconscious. Unmoving. Forehead BLOODY.

ON THE EMANATOR, fallen at K’s feet. Its LIGHT blinks ON.

JOI PROJECTS. Looks about her.

CLOSE ON JOI: SEEING K. NOT BREATHING. MAYBE DEAD.

JOI’S CONFUSION TURNS TO WORRY. TO FEAR. JOI FLICKERS. Scared, panicked. All she can do is repeat, with unnerving, inhuman steadiness, her image cracking:

Her voice and emotions rise even though K has not yet looked to her to see it. So that in the moment it could be taken for a spontaneous display.

JOI PROJECTS OUTSIDE THE SPINNER. Still calling. Her hand uselessly pounding at the window to wake him. To warn him.

JOI’S FACE CONTORTS. The name caught in her mouth disturbingly. HER PROJECTION FLICKERS. GOES STATIC. LIKE A COMPUTER CRASHING. UNTIL JOI CUTS OUT ENTIRELY, REVEALING --

A DOZEN SCAVENGERS BEGIN CLOSING IN ON THE DOWNED SPINNER.

The Scavengers circle in TIGHTER. CLOSER. Talking together in their strange LANGUAGE.

The Scavengers’ shadows close in on the Spinner. K still unmoving.

The SCAVENGER LEADER orders the others -- who SLAM a device onto the Spinner door. The device begins GRINDING THE DOOR AWAY with a caterwaul SHRIEK.

The SHOCK of the sound wakes K. He slowly comes to -- ALIVE.

K opens the door, surprising them by not being dead.He stumbles, consciousness still seeping in.

The Scavengers back away. A moment as they stare at one another. K takes in their wan, weathered faces. Hardship and hunger legible in the dirt. The few that are armed have only rusted antique guns.

Their LEADER raises an old CARBINE, barks orders at his MEN.

In response -- TWO SCAVENGERS JUMP K, a THIRD raises a GUN --

K INSTANTLY DROPS THE TWO AND SHOOTS THE THIRD. PLUS TWO MORE.

K points his blaster from one Scavenger to the next.They begin to back away -- until K sees --

FIFTY MORE SCAVENGERS CREST THE HILL OF TRASH. COMING TO JOIN THE FIGHT.

K IS CORNERED. HE FIRES TWICE. TWO SCAVENGERS DROP.

But still they keep coming. K backs up toward his Spinner.

ON K. His next move uncertain, critical, when --

BOOOM!

ROCKETS FALL FROM THE SKY RIGHT INTO THE MASS OF SCAVENGERS. A BRUTAL DRONE STRIKE, INSTANTLY OBLITERATING THEM.

K is thrown back into his Spinner.

A final ROCKET POUNDS the few surviving Scavengers before they can scatter.

K looks up to the sky. Sees a distant blinking LIGHT, like a satellite, hidden far away in the clouds, and --

INTERCUT WITH:

THE SAME ACTION VIEWED ON A SCREEN. K LOOKING UP.

Luv monitors and controls the drone’s movement via an OPTICAL CONTROL ASSAY which fit like glasses. This as her NAILS are being painted in fabulous detail by an AESTHETICIAN with a micropipette. Her voice calm and even.

LUV’S POV: The assay ZOOMS IN ON K.

SHE FIRES AGAIN.

ANOTHER SHOT BLASTS by the Spinner to rain trash down on K.

K rises. Looks up to the sky. Knows he is being followed.

THE DRONE’S EYE FOCUSES IN ON K... THEN RETREATS UNSEEN.

K looks at his crashed Spinner. He hits a switch inside, punches in. AN ALERT/DISTRESS PROMPT LIGHTS UP. The Pilotfish ejects itself and raises vertically.

K walks. Holding holds pace over the putrid, crumbling terrain. He looks out toward the large TRASH HILL in the distance. Capped by an enormous overturned

SATELLITE DISH.

K approaches a ramshackle DOOR.

K enters A BURROW UNDER THE TRASH MOUNTAIN. Opening up into...

A WIDE OPEN ROOM. THE WALLS ALL MADE FROM MATERIALS RECYCLED FROM TRASH. ARTFULLY RE-CRAFTED INTO NECESSITIES, FURNITURE.

DOZENS of pale, ratty ORPHANS sit on the floor. Eating their meal out of bowls in fearful silence. Some have obvious deformities. Others just ill or odd from a life in darkness.

Seeing K, the CHILDREN stop still. Eyes wide and astonished. If they’ve ever seen anyone like him it wasn’t lately.

They circle K like he was a newfound species. Fascinated. All wanting to poke at him... touch his clothes.

AN ORPHAN BOY TAKES K’S HAND. Begins to lead him through.

They pass A GIRL curled up with a handcrafted DOLL, its “skin” made of scales fashioned from flattened soda cans.

A SHRILL WHISTLE BLASTS from far off. The children all return to their seats on the floor.

The Orphan Boy stiffens. Scared. Points ahead. For K to go on alone. K nods his thanks, and enters...

Capped by the overturned DISH, sections of which have been cut to let in the light. Like an AMPHITHEATER. Thick support beams built of reclaimed metals. All to house --

A FACTORY. THOUSANDS OF ORPHANS WORKING AWAY. Tiny hands SIFTING THROUGH TONS OF TRASH brought from the mesas.Mining it. The bigger kids feed the sorted materials into CARTS down and away. His private industry.

At the center is the figure of a tall, grandiloquent gelding, MISTER COTTON. Sole caretaker. A greasy CAPE over broad shoulders and powerful arms. He SHOUTS at the children.

He stops, noticing K. Grows a salesman’s reptile smile.

K follows Cotton through a dense section of WORKING, COUGHING CHILDREN.

A TRAY of bottles spills. Cotton suddenly blows A SHRILL WHISTLE that hangs from a chain around his neck. The BOYS FREEZE their work. Cotton stares them down. The Boys’ faces lower in fear and shame. Begin to clean their mistake.

They move through an area dedicated to the sorting of METALS. Taken from old technology. Sorted and melted down by MUCH YOUNGER CHILDREN. Many of whom show the desquamated skin and blackened teeth of metal poisoning.

He blows two short BLASTS of his WHISTLE. Every child in the arena instantly STOPS WORK, STANDS. FACES THEM. On display.

K sees the sea of hopeful faces. Shows his BADGE.

Cotton wheels on K. Suddenly hackles up and hard boiled.

K gives a hard stare. Taking in all the KIDS.

Cotton gives a confident, supercilious shrug. In response...

K CRACKS Cotton in the FACE. SLAMS him to a wall, PULLS his WHISTLE CHAIN tight. Choking him. In front of THE CHILDREN.

ON COTTON. A bead of BLOODY SWEAT finds his nose, jumps off.

K pushes Cotton across a path cut through the wide expanse of trash from the overturned dish toward an COLOSSAL TANKER.

INSIDE A METAL GUNSHIP. A CAVERNOUS INDUSTRIAL STRUCTURE. A WORLD OF RUST. A MAZE OF STAIRS.

K keeps a firm, probably painful grip on Cotton’s shoulder as they walk through. They reach a split in the path. Cotton moves on down a set of stairs.

K pauses a moment. Looking around him. A strange and fleeting feeling of familiarity about his surroundings.A MOMENT OUT OF THE MEMORY HE DESCRIBED EARLIER.

A pause. Then K follows, toward --

Private quarters to house Cotton and his lavish tastes. Cotton searches A WALL OF LEDGERS...

Finds the one he’s looking for, pulls it down. We see page after page of meticulously kept balance sheets. Cratchit level care and penmanship. As Cotton flips pages...

K scans the room. Notes Cotton’s personal luxuries. More treasures of secondary use. A rotisserie humidor. A handcrafted gilt bed.

Cotton locates A DATE in a dusty volume. Flips to it...

Only to find TORN PAGES. Surprised, he flips back and forth.

He offers K the book, quailing. Pathetic supplication.

K sees the missing sheaves. He hears the door SLAM -- Cotton slipping out. Worming away.

K leaves him to his retreat. Examines the torn pages.

Someone got in here a long time ago. Covering tracks.

K’s eyes find an item in the junk: A HORSE HEAD ASH TRAY

Stuffed with stubs and ash. He turns it. Stares at it. Something about it tugs at K’s memory, as...

K makes his way out. Following the shadowy maze. He turns towards the light of an OPENING to outside -- when he stops at the place that caught his eye before.

K changes directions. Walks downstairs.

He pauses, looks down over a railing, as --

Something about it. An odd familiarity.

He moves down the passage. Into the dark. Takes a turn...

K inside. Huge to a child. Small to him now.

He finds A ROW OF FURNACES. Old, cold, rusted.

He stops before one of them. And freezes. JUST AS HE DID WHEN A CHILD IN HIS MEMORY. STANDING IN THE SAME SPACE.

He moves to the secret place behind it. Frightened to look.

Then steps closer. Moving around behind it, finding...

THE SMALL HINGED GRATE. The hiding place. Not just figment.

He works up the nerve. The ancient grate opens with a CREAK.

He reaches in. His heart skips as he finds --

AN OLD DUSTY RAG. K UNWRAPS THE RAG... INSIDE IS...

A SMALL HAND-CARVED TOY. A WOODEN HORSE. FORELEG RAISED. SPRAY OF MANE. JUST AS HE DESCRIBED IT. IT IS REAL.

K forgets to breathe. Turns it over.

RAISES IT TO HIS EYES... SO HE CAN SEE... CARVED UNDERNEATH THE PRECIOUS TOY... IS THAT SAME DATE:

6/10/21

K and Joi are both sitting, looking at the little wooden horse, in awe. K’s mind reels with possibility. Joi looks restrained. A sadness in her eyes. There is something different about her.

K sees her unusual melancholy, despite the discovery.

She FLICKERS like before. Turns away, embarrassed.

She faces him. Eyes full of love. Utterly convincing.

She breaks a smile.

She kisses him... repeating the name over and over...

K likes it, gives in to it. Thinking it through.

Her digital toy horse rides... and rears... animated in her hand... And we --

The sometimes frightening skyline looks beautiful through the mist that softens the crosshatched array of SPINNER lights. Even traffic can be lovely from the right vantage.

K’s Spinner DRIVES to a stop in front of... a building of striking architecture. Money can still buy lovely.

K walks down the clean, sterile corridor. So different from the world outside. Money can still buy clean too. A view of the OCEAN and SEPULVEDA SEA WALL beyond.

He finds the right door -- suddenly, incongruously, in --

The view from a tree in Costa Rica. A thick canopy overhead. Lush and green in an endless variety of rare vegetation. Gently swaying in a fictional breeze. The first wash of saturated color we’ve seen.

CLOSE ON: A SINGLE LEAF. LUSH, RICH GREEN. SPECKLED WITH DROPS FROM A RECENT RAIN.

CLOSE ON: A BEETLE. CRAWLING UP THE LEAF. SUNLIGHT CATCHES ON ITS ROUNDED SHELL AND REFLECTS PRISMATICALLY. UNTIL --

THE BEETLE IS All OF A SUDDEN CHANGED OUT FOR AN ENTIRELY DIFFERENT INSECT. THEN CHANGED AGAIN. AGAIN. AS IF BEING SELECTED FROM A MENU OF OPTIONS. SETTLING FINALLY ON --

A SCARAB. ITS EYES BEGIN TO CHANGE SHAPE. Forming and reforming. Evolution changing its mind.

A WOMAN’S SILHOUETTE emerges through the dense forest air.

DOCTOR ANA STELLINE

Younger than you’d expect given all this is hers, 30s.But so very obviously so very bright you never question why.A stratospheric IQ with eyes that do not hide it. Conspicuously lovely for a human not offworld.

She sits on the balls of her barefoot feet in the center of the forest simulation. Like some god painting dreams with a wand onto moving canvas. Spinning and MOLDING and moving the images with a palmed INSTRUMENT. As much electronic as musical. Somewhere between performance art and programming.

A gentle VISITOR ALARM CHIMES and BLINKS, catching Ana’s attention which was until now fixed hypnotically on the delicate minutia of her creation. Her eyes flick to the DOOR, which suddenly appears. And opens. On K.

K looks on the HUGE DOME in which she works.

She sees K and pauses in her work. The room SHIFTS. The forest disappears to reveal an artist’s studio showing its colors as a LAB, with equipment sliding into place.

K shows his badge. Ana gives it a look, intrigued.

K steps to meet her extended hand but -- BUMPS into GLASS.A thick WINDOW that divides the room, enclosing her.

Ana laughs. A joke. She TAPS the GLASS, a puckish streak. Ana is easy to like.

Caught. But not minding it. K tries direct.

Ana considers, amused by the idea.

The lights dim. She sits in the middle of her lab and creates a birthday cake, focuses onthe candles. She “puts” the cake on a TABLE, decorates it. Streamers and treats. A birthday party. All as --

She adjusts the ICING on the cake. Then brings in SMILING FACES OF CHILDREN. Taking special care to craft the micro- expressions on each face... joy... wonder... anticipation...

She takes the edges of the IMAGE out of focus, adding Holga like blurs and imperfections.

ANA

I was locked in an aseptic cloister at eight. If I wanted to see the world I had to imagine it. I got very good at imagining. Wallace needs my talent to maintain a stable product. “Provide context for unavoidable affect.” I think it’s only kind. (with sympathy) (MORE)

She lights the candles one by one... then brings in a POV HAND to reach out to the cake... fingers thick with stolen FROSTING... which is brought towards us in POV to taste... a tiny, complete, evocative birthday memory vignette.

She steps back to consider it. Pleased with her work.

Ana and the kids blow out the candles together and the room goes completely dark.

Lights turn on as Ana walks towards K. At this Ana faces him. Her favorite subject merits her full attention.

She offers K a CHAIR built perfectly into the wall by the glass. Fitted with a chin ledge so a LIGHT can SCAN deep into the eyes, like an optometrist’s slit lamp. A Stelline Scan. After its designer.

K takes a seat. Ana sits into A MATCHING DEVICE kitty corner on her side of the divide. She looks into the scanner.

K puts his face into the rest. A light SHINES bright into his eyes.

She works her console. Peers into a MATCHING LIGHT. Seeing INSIDE... through the optic nerve, into the visual cortex... the Scanner translating neural impulse until... A ghost of an IMAGE takes loose shape... She GRABS it.

A CONNECTION ESTABLISHES WITH A SHOCK. AS WE SEE --

A MEMORY, LIGHTLY DIGITIZED: K swimming in the rough ocean as a teen. Nearly drowning. Fear. Salt.

THE CONNECTION ABRUPTLY BREAKS. K rubs his eyes.

K shakes his head.

She gestures -- Sure. Offers him the machine.

K rests his head on the scanner. She dials in. AGAIN --

K’S CHILDHOOD POV MEMORY: CHILDREN HITTING US, CRUEL...

WE RUN AWAY FROM THE CHILDREN... COMING TO... THE METAL DOOR... THE BOILER ROOM... THE HIDING PLACE...

ANA

Is moved. Watching this unfold on her SCANNER as...

THE HORSE IS INTERRED IN ITS HIDING PLACE... SEALED AWAY...

THEN OUTSIDE LARGER KIDS SPRING ON K, MENACING... THEY SURROUND HIM... BEAT HIM... SHOUTING “WHERE IS IT?”... AND...

Ana stops the imaging. Affected by what she is seeing.

She looks up to K. Seeing him differently because of it. A new sympathy. For a moment, she seems unsure how to answer.

K looks to her, expectant. Everything riding on her answer.

She stares. A pause. She NODS.

CLOSE ON K. He has the answer he wanted. A heart skip of excitement, hidden as best he can. Not very.

K steps out of Ana’s building. The wind has picked up, whipping around him. SNOW begins to fall.

K looks up at the angry churning sky. Around him OTHERS hustle and hurry to get out of the weather.

K stands still. Takes a moment for himself, perhaps for the first time, simply to feel. Everything is possible. When --

A POLICE SPINNER HOVERS BEHIND K. Was waiting for him.

CLOSE ON K. A twitch and --

K in the cold, clinical room. On the stool but unable to keep still, a capped volcano, as --

A pause.

ON JOSHI. Watching K’s FEED carefully, knowingly. She can sense a change in him, as --

A pause. K looks at camera.

A pause.

K is seated, looking off. A new energy to him. The entitlement that comes fromknowing. Joshi enters, pissed.

K eyes her. Holds silent.

Silence.

A beat. Finally --

K’s in control of this conversation now.

A beat. A forever beat.

Joshi sits back. A weight lifted.

Joshi looks outside. Endless Los Angeles.

K nods.

K’s Spinner drives up and stops short. K gets out quickly. Rushing. Paranoid. He looks over his shoulder.

A female silhouette seems to follow him. He walks faster.

K enters, intensed, wild-eyed from the possibilities.

Joi waits for him, against the windows, already projected.

But Joi has other plans at the moment. Moved. She walks slowly toward him.

K runs his hand over the outline of her face. CLOSE: The ruffle of her static makes the tiny hairs on his hand quiver.

She pulls away. Her voice changing. To something real, sad.

She twiddles her nose. And now she has freckles.

The freckles remain. At which -- A BUZZ AT THE DOOR. Joi smiles. Nods -- Answer it. K opens the door to find --

MARIETTE. The DOXIE from the bar. Shined up. A fresh coat of everything on her. She grins at K. Cat, canary.

She enters, takes off her coat. Making herself at home. K looks to Joi.

Mariette kisses K. Steps back. Ready.

Joi steps up to Mariette. Slow. Close. Her face of light to her face of flesh. Joi touches Mariette’s face.

K looks to Joi --What are you doing?

Joi steps forward...stepping into Mariette. Overlaying her projection ATOP the doxie. So that Mariette is only a shadow image, encompassed by Joi’s projection... Joi now a thin layer of light like skin atop Mariette’s real body.

Mariette lifts her hand to take in the effect, which is still imperfect.

Joi BRIGHTENS as the sync completes. Mariette’s moves are now her own. At least for a moment Joi has substance, form. She moves her body in a delicate sway. A turn. Loving the effect. Her gift.

She slowly steps up to K. Joi’s face so close to his.

CLOSE ON: THE MUSIC PLAYER. “Summer Winds.”

K isn’t sure how to take this. So Joi raises a hand. K raises his to meet hers. Recalling their palms pressed earlier... only now they can truly touch...

He runs a finger over the outline of her face. Skin of smoke and light over a warm, willing body.

Joi KISSES him. With real lips. A combination of her static wisps and true flesh. A perverse threesome. A loving twosome. K gives in to the moment.

-- JOI PUTS K’S HAND TO HER WAIST AS BEFORE AND...

-- THEY PERFORM ONE DANCE MOVEMENT TOGETHER... AS THEY COULDN’T DANCE BEFORE... FEELING HER WEIGHT AGAINST HIM..

-- JOI AND MARIETTE MOVE AS ONE... SEPARATING ONLY, BRIEFLY AS K EXTENDS HIS ARM TO TWIRL HER AND JOI GETS LOST IN THE MOVE...

-- K PULLS HER BACK TO HIM. THEY KISS...

-- ON K... SMILING... IN LOVE...

-- ON MARIETTE... UNDER THE SKIN OF LIGHT... SHE FEELS HIS LIPS ON HERS... SEES THE LOOK ON HIS FACE... AND IS MOVED BY A DEPTH OF LOVE SHE NEVER TASTED BEFORE... DIDN’T KNOW WAS REAL...

-- JOI STANDS AWAY FROM HIM. HER HOST BODY, BARELY VISIBLE BENEATH HER AS SHE REACHES A HAND BEHIND HER TO UNFASTEN HER DRESS... WHICH FALLS TO THE FLOOR...

-- K AND JOI LOOK INTO EACH OTHER’S EYES... JOI STEPS TOWARDS K AND --

Looking down a canyon between buildings where...

AN AD SPIRE turns day to night with its brilliant light... AN AD FOR:

JOI. SMILING RIGHT AT US... knowing... willing...

A rare ribbon of TRUE SUNLIGHT through the one small window bisects K and Mariette entwined on the bed.

K is awake, eyes open. He observes Mariette, a touch of embarrassment in the light at the intimacy shared in the dark.

He rises to the shower. We hear the water spray.

ON MARIETTE. Her eyes snap open. Also awake. She slowly gets out of bed and dresses.

As she dresses, she scans the room. Sees the suitcase again. Touches K’s PHOTOS on the coffee table. Then --

She discreetly tags an almost imperceptible device in one of K’s jacket’s pockets.

With that she begins to move toward the door, when she sees --

THE WOODEN HORSE. Her eyes widen. She moves to it. Picks it up reverentially. Moved by it.

Then sees --

JOI. Simply standing there. Watching her. Eerie stillness.

Mariette sets the horse back. Puts on her coat. Stares right back. Refusing to see Joi as more. Mocking. Back on her hard mode.

And she’s out the door.

As we CLOSE IN ON JOI... a flinch... a feeling?...

But K’s attention is on the WOODEN HORSE. Mariette’s words lingering. He feels it in his fingers.

Joi catches on to his idea. Brightening with the insight. Confirming his thought.

K smiles. Picks up the horse: This is the trail to follow.

Joi disappears --

-- Reappears from the central console. As K readies to move, holding the horse --

K halts. Joi just refused him. A first.

K doesn’t understand.

The emanator.

Joi finally smiles.

K faces her.

A pause. K keys into the central console. WORDS FLOAT in the air: “UPDATE EDITION: JOI.”

Joi nods to K. He presses the console and --

JOI CUTS OUT. A WHIR. JOI’S VOICE comes from the EMANATOR.

K SNAPS open the casing on the emanator. BREAKS OFF a piece inside. The antenna.

THE WALLACE LOGO FLOATS in the air. “DELETE THIS CUSTOMER EXPERIENCE?” is written underneath.

K selects. YES.

A WARNING CHIMES: “ALL PREVIOUSLY SAVED PROGRESS AND USER FILES WILL BE LOST.” The word “LOST” BLINKS.

K looks to the emanator’s eye.

A SINGLE WORD BRIGHTENS ON THE CONSOLE: DELETE

A MAP OF THE WEST COAST. Key points lit up.

One particular point of interest in LOS ANGELES immediately GOES DARK.

ON LUV. Taking note. Rising. Displeased.

In the middle of the bazaar of their complex FIND --

K and Joi. Squatted beside DOC BADGER, the lone resident K greeted to on his way home, in a stall crowded with jury- rigged lab equipment. An elaborate SCOPE. A hand-painted sign in SOMALI offers “DOCTOR BADGER’S OFF-WORLD SCREENING.”

Badger takes the wooden horse. Fits it into his SCANNER.

He LAUGHS at what he sees. IN SOMALI ONLY:

Doc Badger shakes his head no.

The SCREEN offers a radiation fingerprint: Isotopic details. Age estimate. The facts registers with K.

They look at each other.

A FLYING POV THROUGH THICK, LAMBENT RED DUST. FOCUSING ON: A BROKEN STREET LAMP.

THE POV FOLLOWS his instruction. WIDENS TO REVEAL:

A VAST PARKING LOT. EVEN LARGER CASINOS IN THE DISTANCE. Erotic statues out of an ancient temple of old. A PYRAMID.

POV WIDENS OUT FURTHER:

THE VEGAS SKYLINE. Recognizable but, like an old stripper, only a shell of debauchery. The hulked MEGASTRUCTURES are all still there. Dark. Empty. Years of neglect.

In their day they were fever dreams of debauchery. Decades of sandstorms have scoured away the luster and color.Weeds grow tall in the cracked streets. A thick DUST coat over it all makes equals of everything. It hasn’t rained in forever.

One CRUMBLED EGYPTIAN-THEMED HOTEL shows evidence of A BOMB BLAST. Outsized STATUES in ruins around it. THE PILOTFISH POV registers the radiation levels at SAFE.

It picks up on a RED DUST DEVIL, STREAKED WITH BLACK.

POV SOARS OVER THE EERILY STILL RUINS TO FOLLOW THE WHIRLING DUST. Homing in on the CLOUD OF DARK MOVEMENT WITHIN.

K reacts. He has been flying the Spinner’s PILOTFISH like a drone. Watching its POV on the Spinner’s screen.

K sees something in the image that strikes him. A dark cloud. Joi watches too.

K’s look isn’t reassuring.

ON K. Decision made. He gets out of his vehicle, parked on the side of a hill. Down below, few miles away, we see the ruins of a city, lying under a cloud of red dust.

He begins to walk.

An old warning panel beaten by the wind: WARNING. RADIATION LEVELS INHOSPITABLE can be seen nearby.

LOOKING OVER THE SPINNER... We see K recede into the distance. Moving toward the city.

People once gathered here to take photos and frolic.All under the eyes of the god-sized STATUES towering above. Erotically posed and positioned. Gods making gods. Now in semi-ruins, beheaded and disarmed.

K is a human speck at their feet. Dwarfed. Stepping over cracked and uneven concrete.

A plume of red dust beats against K.

The wind finally passes. But when it does K’s eyes LOCK on something overhead that astounds him so much more than the grand ghost city. Something small.

A BEE

Flitting about. It waggles a crooked path to land...

ON HIS ARM

K is speechless. He has never seen the like. He is careful not to move lest he scare it off.

The bee takes off anyway. Flies a deliberate line through the grand statue’s legs. K follows after it, as... The BEE joins another. MORE BEES STILL. Until the loose cluster rejoins...

A SWARM OF THOUSANDS. THIS was the dark cloud he saw from afar. They move as one. Their HUMS together a ROAR. Circling in waves around an ARTIFICIAL FEEDING SYSTEM.

K steps below the vertical FEEDER. Powered by a solar panel that has recently been SLEEVE-SWIPED clean of dust.

K TURNS. HEARING SOMETHING MELDED WITH THE WIND. MUSIC.

He strains to listen. The faintest sound of... A PIANO.

He raises his eyes toward the source of the sound. If it is real at all it seems to come from...

A CLASSIC OLD STYLE CASINO HOTEL

Faded, deep cracks in its foundation, the occasional window blown out. But still an architectural wonder.

K crosses the lake-sized FOUNTAIN, long dry and cracked...

K enters great glass double doors, reinforced with steel. Sand piled at the seams. K takes a single step, and stops short at --

Seemingly nothing. Then we make out what his eyes perceived: A set of thin, carefully hidden TRIPWIRES across the floor.

He carefully steps over.

He continues in. The lobby is long abandoned. A chandelier long since crashed to the lobby floor.

K WALKS THROUGH. Dust motes swirl in the stale air.

K passes a MANNEQUIN dressed as a bellman.

He SPINS, hearing MOVEMENT. Seeing no one. And then... HE HEARS A PIANO. THREE NOTES PLAYED somewhere deep inside.

He moves into the dark. Following another NOTE’S ECHO.

A huge gambling hall. A bar. Behind which is AN ELABORATE PYRAMID SCULPTURE made of EMPTY ALCOHOL BOTTLES. Someone has been here. Lived and drank here.

K passes old poker tables. CARDS fanned out on a blackjack table. Dust on the felt. He picks up a card.

He walks on. Toward the sound. MOVES UP A SET OF STAIRS.

A balcony on the third floor MEZZANINE. STACKS of priceless paintings against the bar. There K finds --

A PIANO

The keys open. K taps a KEY. The note rings through the airy space. Makes the current of floating dust vibrate.At which K notices --

TWO EYES staring at him in the dark --

A MANGY DOG

It is, at a glance, the ugliest dog on earth. Flea bitten and ragged. But a real, live dog. It cocks its head at K.

ON K. Utterly awed by this animal. Homely as it is, it is miraculous to him. He moves slowly toward it. Hand out. Hoping to touch it. So lost in the discovery, he is completely surprised by -- THE CLICK OF A GUN --

MAN’S VOICE (O.S.) “You mightn’t happen to have a piece of cheese about you now, boy?”

DECKARD’S ICONIC BLASTER

Comes out of the SHADOWS half into the LIGHT. Preceding

RICK DECKARD

Strong, tireless. Seasoned by time and, like teak or copper, far more handsome for the patina. But also something... cracky about him. Thoughts obscure, running together. Enough to keep us guessing if he’s gone touched left alone out here too long... Or maybe just a calculated way to keep an intruder guessing...

K stares down the blaster. Takes a gamble.

Deckard leads K forward, blaster is fixed on him, keeping a safe distance, as --

Deckard’s eyes focus, sharp now with the insult of a lie.

At which -- BLAM! DECKARD FIRES! UNEXPECTED. DIRTY.

K FALLS BACKWARD OVER THE BALCONY --

LOST OVER THE EDGE --

A CRASH.

Deckard Looks over the balcony. No sign.

DECKARD

Walks down the stairs after him slowly. Confident. The dog obediently follows.

K is gone. Survived the jump. Leaving only blood. Deckard calmly tracks K’s movements in the dust.

The dog abides. Waits. As Deckard hunts.

K stops, leans against a wall for support -- sees Deckard in the distance --

K turns. Not seeing the TRIPWIRE strung across the ground --

The wire catches -- CLICK! -- he MOVES just ahead of --

BOOM! THE FIRST OF FOUR EXPLOSIONS IN SEQUENCE.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

Deckard scans through the plume of DUST. Sees...

A DOOR CLOSE.

BY AN OLD LOUNGE. A tattered SIGN for the last SHOW that played there, curiously called “THE HOMAGE.”

ON DECKARD. He THROWS A SWITCH in an electrical panel. Power HUMS through ancient wire.

Great acts once played here, back when there was leisure.

K

Is hiding. Forcing his breath shallow and quiet.

LIGHTS SNAP ON. WHIRLING, FUNHOUSE FLASHING. Making it hard to see. MUSIC starts. Loud, thrumming.

ON THE DARK STAGE... A HOLOGRAM ILLUMINES THE CENTER.

ELVIS. Brought back to life. Performing “Suspicious Minds” again on the Vegas stage.

A glitchy but inspired holographic resurrection. We look through Elvis’ BODY wrought in LIGHT to see --

K crosses an open aisle. Staring through. Disoriented. He looks at Elvis walking further downstage --

K hides behind a sofa, looks to the door. No sign of Deckard. When --

A SHOT FIRES -- EXPLODING THE SEAT BEHIND K -- nearly taking his head off. K ducks down to see --

DECKARD

Stalking him through the MAZE OF BOOTHS AND TABLES AND STAGE LIGHTING. Gun lose and comfortable in his hand, as --

ONSTAGE

Elvis begins a MEDLEY. His hologram begins to falter. The garish show begins to SKIP and FLICKER like a worn VHS -- until the system unravels -- and Elvis is joined by MORE HOLOGRAPHIC LAS VEGAS ICONS: CHORUS GIRLS and MAGICIAN’S TIGERS. LIBERACE. MARILYN MONROE. REDD FOXX. ACROBATS. All resurrected in LIGHT. A nostalgia act in chaos.

K loses his bearings in the confusion. As the show spins into a tumult. Everything it’s got. Classic icons and icons to be fill the space. CIRCUS ELEPHANTS spring to life. LASER LIGHTS blind and flash.

Deckard’s eye is keen. The movements of his blaster exact. He looks behind a table. Nothing.

Around a bar. Nothing.

He steps through the FLICKERING ELVIS to see --

K’S BLOOD ON THE FLOOR.

WITH K. Crawling. He stops as a MAGICIAN’S TIGER approaches.

DECKARD

Sees the tiger cross. Heads toward it, gun raised when -- THE LIGHTS CUT OUT -- then instantly FLASHING BRIGHT AGAIN -- HOLOGRAMS momentarily BLINDING Deckard --

K LEAPS THROUGH THE HOLOGRAMS. Knocks Deckard down.

KNOCKS his blaster away. Letting his strength out. Deckard swings. K takes one hit. Catches the second. THROWS Deckard back. Deckard has the meanness of experience but none of K’s speed.

Deckard PUNCHES K --BAM -- and again... Again... K letting him. Taking the punches and deliberately not hitting back.

Deckard keeps coming at him -- heaving -- K steeling himself for more, when -- Deckard hesitates.

Holds up a hand. Wait a second. K pauses. We notice the MUSIC just changed. Returned from the chaos of buggy software back to something beautiful.

ONSTAGE Elvis sings a solo. “Can’t Help Falling In Love.”

Deckard does something odd in response: He lowers his hands.

A bizarre pause in the fight as Deckard stops to listen to Elvis’ chorus... “Some things are meant to be...”

Something about it alters his fragile mood. Suddenly no longer in the mood for pain.

A beat. K has no idea what to make of Deckard. He picks up the dropped blaster.

And he steps out. Off K... following after... the dog behind them... and Elvis still singing, we --

Luv goes up the stairs, searching.

CLOSE ON: THE DOOR. TEARING OPEN. BRUTE FORCE.

LUV

Enters. Shuts the now broken door behind her. Scans the small space quickly. Ascertaining it all at a glance.

Her eye lands on... Sapper’s glasses. Then --

K’S BOOK. She studies its cover.

Then finds THE BOX the emanator came it. It makes her smile, as if she knows everything about him. The smile drops at finding -- THE BROKEN ANTENNA beside it.

LUV’S SPINNER cuts through the eternal sky traffic toward --

LUV cuts through the crush of grime and crime into --

Joshi at her desk, the lights dim giving visual precedence to THE CITY MAP she has UPSCREEN: Real time feed of current police activity. The lights go abruptly BRIGHT.

An unfamiliar woman has just stepped into Joshi’s office with presumed intimacy, turned the lights on. LUV.

Joshi sits back in her chair. Her silence a challenge to this stranger.

Luv steps closer. Joshi nods knowingly. Saw this coming. She shuts her SCREEN down.

Luv gives a polite bow. And just like that, all cards are on the table.

Joshi pours a short one and takes it ahead of what’s coming. As usual she sees too many steps ahead and knows her mind about where it goes. And then --

Luv’s perfect face twists. Lightning quick, Luv snatches Joshi at the hand holding the glass. Crushes it.

Luv squeezes her dead hand even tighter. Cruelly.

Joshi is in blinding pain. Channels it into silence.

Luv doesn’t dwell. Simply STABS A BLADE into Joshi’s chest -- straight through the breast bone. Rupturing her heart. Blood might bouquet out the back with the force of it.

Joshi slides to the floor. Gone before she hits.

Luv steps over her. Slides in front of her computer. Waves. The console doesn’t respond. She SIGHS. Reaches down...

Lift’s Joshi’s head up at an awkward angle. Positions it in front of the console. A light SCANS Joshi’s face.

The interface recognizes Joshi. OPENS. Luv DROPS Joshi.

Luv stares at the default MAP of all active police vehicles. Clusters throughout the city. The expected jurisdiction. No traces of K’s vehicle. She search for general aerial activity over Los Angeles... Nothing strikes her attention... She widens out... over California and Nevada... then sees:

ONE SPINNER way off the map. Luv traces it with a finger. Sees its location... A FORBIDDEN AREA WITH RADIATIONS WARNINGS... And we --

20,000 square feet of luxury. DECKARD’s home. More priceless paintings, sculptures strewn about carelessly. Deckard and K walk toward the bar.

He points to one of many priceless paintings hanging. Picasso’s “Boy Leading a Horse.”

He pours some from his glass onto the floor. The mangy dog pads over and laps it up at his feet.

Deckard sits down with his drink. K sitting opposite him. He waits, lets Deckard take the lead.

Silence.

Deckard storms off.

K alone raises his glass.

K turns on a HOLO JUKEBOX. Sinatra sings in miniature.

K looks at the sunrise, a wide panoramic view of the desert. The sky is CLEAR of dust and -- for the first time in his life -- K sees a horizon.

He sees Rachael’s photograph beside him, on a small table. Carved wooden sculptures beside it. Carved by the same hand as his horse.

THE SUN just begins to peak from behind a PYRAMID HOTEL, illuminating the grand MEGASTRUCTURE VISTA. And cresting over the diagonal line of the pyramid... we just begin to make out...

LUV’S SPINNER. FLANKED BY FIVE DARK SPINNERS.

They come down the strip. Over the old traffic lights. Then disperse, like wolves encircling a prey.

A PILOTFISH DEPLOYS.

It floats gently. Quiet as a computer fan. It moves down the boulevard. Seeking. Then...

It locks in on something. Begins a straight line for...

THE CASINO

As Luv closes in, A PROMPT comes UPSCREEN.

ON IT: THE PILOTFISH’S VIEW of Deckard’s penthouse.Two bodies within. “TARGET LOCKED. DETONATE?”

UPSCREEN: “CERTAIN?”

UPSCREEN: “CERTAIN?”

She banks the Spinner around the hotel, as --

K looks at sunrise, lying on a patio chair, freezing.A wide panoramic view of the desert. The sky is CLEAR of dust and -- for the first time in his life -- K sees a horizon.Inside we see...

Joi wandering alone in the penthouse by large HYDROPONIC GROWERS. Taking it all in. Wooden sculptures amongst books. Joi looks at them.

The dog appears from one of the doors. Pants at K. K smiles at it.

The dog WHINES. Suddenly agitated. Suddenly turning at --

A PIERCING ALARM. K rises, turns off the emanator. Joi is gone, as --

Deckard appears. Checks his security system. Scans the open sky with BINOCULARS. Sees NOTHING.

Deckard spots a metallic GLIMMER floating level with them.

Then K sees something in the distance... a movement between two buildings... He hears engines approaching.

K turns toward Deckard... Who is gone.

Deckard runs downstairs.

Deckard runs on. Followed by the dog.

K appears at the end of the corridor, running after Deckard. Quickly catching up. Sees Deckard slip through A DOOR.

Deckard locks the door behind him and his dog, quickly activates the power in an EMPTY penthouse. An ENGINE begins to whir and cough and come alive. By an OPEN BAY WINDOW, covered with plastic. AN ANCIENT SPINNER.

Deckard moves for the Spinner, as --

K EXPLODES through the wall -- coming for him, as --

ON LUV. Waiting. Tracking Deckard’s movement within. Before he can reach his Spinner --

THE HOVERING MISSILE ENGAGES. IT ZEROES IN ON THE OPEN WINDOW AND --

K throws himself in front of Deckard as --

BOOM! DECKARD’S SPINNER EXPLODES!

The world BLURS. K is ROCKED by the blast --

K SMASHES into the wall.

K manages to sit up. Wind and soot in his face as --

ONE OF THE DARK SPINNERS LANDS INSIDE THE PENTHOUSE.

DARK FIGURES get out and DRAG UNCONSCIOUS DECKARD toward the Spinner. K tries to move for Deckard -- but his abdomen has been PUNCTURED by debris.

Deckard fights his captors brutally, but they are too many.

Fighting pain, K staggers to his feet.

Is GRABBED from behind.

K BREAKS the hand that clasped him and DROPS its owner. Disarms with MAN lugging Deckard and SHOOTS HIM AND ONE MORE.

The team doesn’t last long against K unleashed. Until --

A FOOT KICKS K -- BONES FRAGMENTING IN HIS CHEST. ANOTHER KICK. K SLAMS INTO THE GROUND WITH BRUTAL FORCE.

LUV

Steps toward K. Calm, amused, a successful acquisition assumed.

K feels his wounds. Expends all his remaining, dwindling strength to stagger toward Deckard.

Luv stops to watch K’s slow progress. Curious. KICKS him again with her strange strength. K LANDS HARD. Bone snaps.

THE EMANATOR GOES FLYING.

K is on his back -- breath short -- then CUT OFF as LUV STOMPS HIS CHEST. His insides rupture.

Luv steps close. Ready to end him when --

JOI HAS PROJECTED

Enough of a distraction that Luv for the moment leaves K. Steps over ahead of K to... The emanator.

Luv sees K reach and crawl for it. Trying to reach it before she does.

Luv locks eyes with Joi. Raises a foot.

K shakes his head. Don’t.

Luv thrills at the chance to administer such a unique pain.

K and Joi meet eyes. Breath held. She knows what’s coming. Spends her last moment looking at K, loving him.

Joi reaches a hand toward his. Just enough time to say it.

And Luv CRUSHES the emanator with her boot.

Joi dissipates. Is gone forever.

ON K. Destroyed. Whatever she was, digital fantasy or evolved personality, he loved her as true.

LUV KICKS HIS FACE.

The world goes BLACK.

ON K’S EYE. Flickering OPEN.

An EXPLOSION of DUST as a Spinner takes off. With Deckard.

K’S EYE REFLECTS LUV’S SPINNER... AS IT RISES OUT THE WINDOW... AND FLIES AWAY. GONE.

ON K. On the ground. Near Deckard’s dropped blaster. A wind blows. Deckard’s Dog watches the Spinners leave.It sits at K’s feet. Licks his hand.

K only stares at the crushed emanator. His eye closes.

Night comes. The wind blows sharp flecks of dust. Death creeping in. Nearly there.

A thin SOUND in the distance. FOOTSTEPS. Feet pass Deckard’s blaster covered in ash. A beat.

THEN K IS DRAGGED BACKWARDS ACROSS THE FLOOR.

CLOSE ON: A HORSE’S FACE. LIPS PARTED, NOSTRILS FLARED IN PERMANENT ANGUISH.

CLOSE ON: FIRELIGHT. SMOKE. A CRACKLE AND SPARK.

K’S EYES FLUTTER OPEN. FEVERED AND AFRAID. HE SEES A CAMPFIRE BURNING...

SENSES A HUMAN PRESENCE BESIDE HIM. HIS EYES CLOSE AGAIN...

FADE IN AGAIN AS:

The campfire has died down. K SHIVERS with fever. His eyes open to see -- A GROUP sitting beside the fire... Amongst them --

MARIETTE

Genuine concern on her face. She pets the Dog’s head admiringly.

K looks like he wants to. He looks into the FIRE.

Consciousness slips away again as he watches the EMBERS float skyward in a fairy’s flight. Streaks of light...

The embers soar into the NIGHT SKY... Merging with the STARS... which now begin to MOVE...

LIKE COMET TRAILS... STREAKING THE SKY...

K’S POV OF: STREAMS OF COLORFUL LIGHTS SOARING BY.

ABOVE... BELOW... LIKE THOUSANDS OF HEADLIGHTS COMING AT HIM ON A HIGHWAY... A FEVER DREAM OF FLIGHT THROUGH THE STARS... OR OVER A CITY... WHICH TAKES SHAPE BELOW US... SPINNERS FLYING THROUGH THE RIOT OF COLOR AND LIGHT...

CLOSE ON: DECKARD. He wakes.

Find himself in Wallace’s private space. Neither bound nor shackled. He was sleeping on a luxurious armchair.A cocktail cart seems to have been left out just for him, liquor and glass waiting.

On a coffee table in front of him, a round object the size of a large grapefruit wrapped in a ragged piece of clothing.

A SUDDEN SPLASH BEHIND HIM --

From the POOL. A FISH leaps, falls back in with a splash.A Barracuda flies over the water, following the fish.A strange sight.

Three Barracudas slowly comes out of the shadow, followed by... Niander Wallace.

The Barracuda revolves around Deckard, taking him in.

Wallace sits right beside Deckard. Then pulls off the halo on the back of his head. Wallace takes Deckard’s hand in his. Presses it. Strange intimacy.

Wallace takes the wrapped object, puts it on his lap and unwraps it, slowly.

Wallace reveals the object, A HUMANSKULL. RACHAEL’S SKULL.

Seeing the skull, Deckard’s eyes burn into him. Full of hate.

Luv appears in the darkness. She was listening all along. A dark angel. Wallace touches the skull.

A HOLO PLAYS: OF THE FIRST MEETING BETWEEN DECKARD AND RACHAEL. THE VOIGHT-KAMPFF. ONLY THIS TIME IT IS NOT JUST RACHAEL’S EYE IN CLOSE UP, BUT A SECOND CAMERA CAPTURE OF THE ENTIRE EVENT. BOTH DECKARD AND RACHAEL IN FULL.

The decades old encounter plays before them as --

THE HOLO PLAYBACK OF DECKARD AND RACHAEL FREEZES, DISSIPATES.

Deckard seethes. Fights the insidious logic. To his last breath, which may be soon, he won’t accept the possibility or its implications.

The question lingers. What everyone wants to know. Except one man.

Wallace laughs.

Deckard shakes his head. Laughs.

Wallace gestures to Luv. Who comes around behind Deckard.

At which Deckard hears... HEELS on the floor. Footsteps coming.

A WOMAN steps across the path over the water. The woman steps into the light. Deckard sees...

RACHAEL

Precisely as when he met her. As she was in the holo. Down to the lashes. Flesh and blood. Young again. Remade. Authentic. Inauthentic.

ON DECKARD. Breath gone. Wallace presents his offer.

Deckard fights the urge, can’t help but look. A perfect recreation of all he ever wanted is right in front of him. In the flesh. Instantly filled with longing. With disgust.

Rachael steps close to Deckard. Lifts his chin. So they are face to face. We are transported back decades in seconds.

Deckard says nothing.

The mirage utterly real and convincing. Deckard strains against pain of loss. Strains not to lose himself in a memory of lost joy... We fear he is tempted, when --

He tears his face from her hand. Rejecting the simulacrum.

And he walks away from her, standing now at the edge of the darkness.

ON WALLACE. Cold. Nods to Luv. Luv understands.

ON DECKARD. Behind him, Luv raises her gun and shoots Rachael straight in the head. Deckard startles. Rachael falls brutally on the floor. The gunshot echoes forever.

ON Deckard. He stares at Wallace, a murder.

ON WALLACE.

Luv grins -- dark work she will enjoy, and --

ON K. HE STARTLES AWAKE. HIS EYES SCAN AROUND IN FEAR. GO WIDE WITH SUDDEN RECOGNITION OF INTENSE PAIN.

He is in a dark, high ceilinged space. Eerily devoid of the bustle we’ve seen in other abandoned spaces. Just the quiet drip of efflorescent laden water weeping through concrete.

He is sweating. Shaking with the fever of deep set infection. His broken body manages to respond as he forces it to rise.

He looks to his CLENCHED FIST. Opens it. He clasps a broken shard of the emanator. All that’s left of Joi. Shining plastic reflecting firelight. He hears WHISPERS, MOVEMENT --

A SET OF REFLECTIVE EYES PEER AT K IN THE DARK. MARIETTE. THE 2 DOXIES FROM THE BAR AND DECKARD’S MANGY DOG STILL BESIDE HER.

Mariette looks to K with new feeling. Trusting. Wanting him to trust her. She stands aside, to REVEAL --

MARIETTE’S HANDLER FROM THE BAR

She walks toward K. She wears the same DARK GLASSES even here. In the dark.

This is FREYSA.

She speaks with the calm heavenbound confidence of the eerily devout. The unique patois of a colony we will never visit.

She lifts up her dark glasses to REVEAL HER RIGHT EYE SOCKET IS EMPTY.

Only now can we recognize her as the SAME WOMAN who was in the old PHOTO of a woman holding a child by the TREE.

K cocks his head at her, seeing the pieces fit. Water drips somewhere near.

Freysa beams, beatific and moved. Looks down at her arms.

She takes the PHOTO. Looks at it. She and the child. She circles K as she tells it. Telling it like legend.

K understands he’s talking to the only living witness to his own birth. Wants to know -- everything.

More FOOTSTEPS come toward them.

Freysa takes K’s gun. DECKARD’S BLASTER. She presses the barrel to her own chest. Presses his hand over the trigger.

As if set free by her acknowledgement, the shadows suddenly SPARKLE with glinting REFLECTIVE RETINAE. DOZENS OF EYES.

In the shadows are more Replicants... hiding... allied.Her silent, slithering army. A collection of those awakened to a dream. We can sense their dissatisfaction like we can their number. Both vast. The shadow of the coming, violent storm.

K lowers the blaster.

K can’t live with that.

Her eyes sparkle with the future she sees.

But K is focused only on one word. He feels it like a bullet.

Freysa nods, confused by his confusion on the point.

An infinite beat. Time shatters. Gravity upends.

K shakes his head. No.

Freysa shakes her head knowingly.

A wave of nausea rocks K. The crushing realization slowly taking root... eating away at his new soul...

He was wrong about who he is.

ON K. At the moment he sees it. The connection forming.

INSERT CUT: ANA. STARING, CONFUSED, MOVED BY WHAT SHE SEES IN K’S MEMORY. A MOMENT OF RECOGNITION.

INSERT CUT: THE DENABASE SCREEN. THE TWO COPIES. THE GHOST AND THE REAL.

INSERT CUT: THE CHILD WITH THE HORSE IN FRONT OF THE FIERY FURNACE. CHIN SET, DETERMINED.

INSERT CUT: ON ANA. LOOKING AT K.

BACK ON K. RIVEN. THE TRUTH REVEALED. THE CASE SOLVED AT HIS OWN EXPENSE. IT WAS NEVER HIM AT ALL.

Something inside K breaks. Freysa can see his pain. And understands.

ON K -- SHAKING -- SHATTERED -- WE MOVE --

TO WHITE.

CLOSE ON K. BLINDING LIGHT BOUNCES OFF HIM.

He stands in the FLOODLIGHTS, looking up at something PAINFULLY BRIGHT high and huge in front of him. He is in a fog. Soultired. No longer connected to physical pain.

REVEAL: ON THE NEXT BUILDING, 30 STORIES HIGH, A 120 FOOT VERSION OF JOI LOOKS DOWN AT THE CITY. AN ADVERTISEMENT. LOUNGING RECUMBENT, ELBOW BENT TO PROP HER HEAD.

K is dwarfed by the enormity of her. A man standing before the sun. He stares up at her like she was a holy site.

“JOI” sees him down below, begins to vamp and twirl.An interactive ad. Immediately selling. Everything about her a vulgar exaggeration. Her voice heard above the city din:

“JOI” Hello, Handsome. What a day, hmmm?

K looks up to her, eyes full of longing and need. Sees only the “dead leaf echo” of his Joi. Charmless and generic.

K searches her face for an answer. Can only see THROUGH it.

“JOI” (cont’d) You look lonely. I can fix that.

She gives a crass laugh. K stares and stares. Desperate to find any spark of the woman he loves... praying some part of her is still in the network, still extant...

“JOI” (cont’d) Aww... (leaning down) You look like a good Joe.

The NAME goes through K like an arrow. Joe? Jo? His mind fills with doubt and hope and doubt again. Was it all part of her program? Was she ever real?

No answers from “Joi.” Only a knowing wink and her mannequin smile as she looks back out on the city. Selling herself to the world.

CLOSE ON K. His eyes close. As if saying goodbye. To her. To everything he learned from her to dream and hope for.

His eyes open on the sky as lightning kindles. A storm. A decision made.

He fingers DECKARD’S BLASTER. And we --

A WALLACE CORP TRANSPORT VAN LIFTS OFF from the platform. TWO DARK, SLEEK SPINNERS lift off after and follow after.

A moment, then... K’S SPINNER’S LIGHTS COME ON. Waiting in the wings, barely noticeable. It follows after --

THE TRANSPORT VAN flies through the FOG and WET SNOW. Flanked by THE TWO DARK SPINNERS.

The caravan veers off the main traffic artery. Running along the COASTLINE. BELOW IS...

THE SEPULVEDA SEA WALL

Where the risen ocean meets city. Stretching for MILES. DENSE FOG spills over like a waterfall.

The caravan cuts through the thick FOG. Keeps low to the rough, stormy surface. Sprayed by angry waves.

Condensation streaks the glass. Luv scans the skies around them. Eyes missing nothing. Satisfied, she fixes her unblinking eyes on --

DECKARD. Handcuffed in place.

Deckard’s gaze drifts up... to watch the rain and snow stream across the glass... a moment’s peace found there before the pain promised to follow, when --

A LIGHT SHIMMERS through he fog. Barely visible.

Then -- visible. A PILOTFISH. COMING FOR THEM FAST --

FLASHING PAST AND VEERING AT THE LAST MOMENT, MISSING THEM --

THEN SLAMMING INTO THE SPINNER ESCORT. IT EXPLODES INSTANTLY! DEBRIS SPARKING AGAINST THE TRANSPORT.

GUN SHOTS WEB THE WINDSHIELD AND KILL THE PILOT.

He slumps, dead. The CO-PILOT grabs the controls.

Luv stands, searches the sky, as --

THE SECOND SPINNER ESCORT TAKES FIRE! Its engine ruptures and it SPIRALS. AN EXPLOSION QUICKLY EXTINGUISHED BY A FLOOD OF OCEAN SPILLING OVER AND ENGULFING IT.

Deckard looks out. Sees --

K’S SPINNER BULLET PAST. Disappearing into the mist.

Luv quickly assesses the damage. Orders the Co-Pilot:

Co-Pilot BANKS the Transport. When out of nowhere --

WHAM! K’s Spinner SMASHES into them, from underneath. Disappears in the fog again.

The Transport’s engine fails -- losing altitude -- SMOKE BILLOWS off as it descends. LUV RAGES.

Co-Pilot fights the controls to level them off -- but cannot stop their descent. At which they see --

THE SEA WALL

It looms large as they drop toward it.

Deckard watches their descent from his seat as --

THEY CRASH AT THE BASE OF THE SEA WALL! A WALL OF OCEAN WATER rushes over the glass roof.

ON THE TRANSPORT

Perched unsteadily at the sea wall’s sloped base. A violent WAVE BASHES over it.

Co-Pilot works the controls. With effort the Transport engines come alive, threatening to LIFT, when --

WAVES COME SMASHING DOWN OVER THE VEHICLE.

Luv opens the door, drawing her weapon.

BLAM! A BULLET PUNCTURES THE WINDSHIELD. CO-PILOT’S HEAD SNAPS BACK, THEN SLUMPS.

DECKARD

Looks up. Light suddenly streams on his face.

ON K

Backlit and FIRING as he comes. Heedless of his exposure.

Luv holds her position until -- SHE FIRES AT K --

K FIRES -- HITS LUV -- WHO FLIES BACK WITH THE IMPACT.

ON K

Coming for Deckard. Even as Deckard watches the BLOOD blossom on K’s chest. They meet eyes, when --

LUV CHARGES K LIKE A TRAIN. TACKLES HIM. They tumble like lovers. Luv destroys what’s left of K’s shoulder, when --

A CRUSHING WAVE POUNDS THE TRANSPORT AGAINST THE SEA WALL. WATER FILLS THE VEHICLE.

K AND LUV

Crush together against the shattered roof to spill out onto --

K and Luv struggle to their feet, battered by savage waves -- the same waves that carry the Transport further out into the water with each impact.

Luv focuses her rage to a single point: K. She throws herself atop him. A wild, crazed thing, sent from the pit.

K’s fist connects with, digs into the soft flesh of her throat with a pulsing, drawn outCRAAAAAAACK.

Luv only grins -- as if proud he found the strength.Then -- A KICK to destroy his ribs sends him backwards, as --

The Transport LURCHES. Water floods in.

Deckard struggles to free his still cuffed hand --

A colossal wave CRASHES over the Transport, tipping it --

K and Luv pause to see the Transport carried out to sea -- and begin to SINK. Luv wastes no more time.

HER KNIFE SINGS

K dodges it -- blocks it -- grabs it by the blade -- not seeing --

HER SECOND KNIFE

The blade slips out of K’s gut before he felt it go in.

K falls to his knees.

Luv DIVES into the water, toward the Transport and Deckard.

Deckard is up to his neck, held down by the shackle.

Deckard submerges to try to pull himself free. He fights like hell -- but can’t do it --

LUV PULLS Deckard back up. Faces him in the small pocket of air remaining. Luv grins like the devil on his birthday.

Without a sound... K rises in the water behind Luv.

GRABS HER BY THE THROAT.

LIFTS HER TO THE SHATTERED ROOF.

THROWS HER INTO THE WATER. HAND CRUSHING HER WINDPIPE AND HOLDING UNDERWATER.

LUV FIGHTS HIM WITH EVERYTHING SHE HAS. TEETH BARED, BLOODY.

BUT K JUST TAKES THE PAIN. DOES NOT LET GO.

ON LUV. She lashes out, wild, feral spasms. Her mouth working. Unable to find the words to properly hate.One pupil goes wide. The eye rolls back in its socket, giving a clear view of the pinprick of color underneath.

AND SHE GOES STILL.

ON LUV. An air bubble of resignation escapes her lips.

THE CREAK OF METAL ABOUT TO GIVE WAY. THE WATER LEVEL RISES.

DECKARD IS ENTIRELY UNDERWATER. LUNGS AFLAME.

K swims to him. Breaks his retrains.

K and Deckard dive out of the sinking tomb.

IN THE OCEAN.

K and Deckard swim. Wave and current conspire to drown them.

A WAVE BATTERS K. WE LOSE SIGHT OF HIM IN THE WATER.

Deckard reaches back. CLASPS K’S HAND. Helping him back.

THE SURFACE EXPLODES. K GASPS for breath. ANOTHER WAVE CRASHES them onto the base of THE SEA WALL.

Deckard grabs hold of K before he is swept out into the sea.

They find their footing, their breath. Deckard nods to K. He’s all right. They look out to see...

THE TRANSPORT VAN SINKS BENEATH THE SURFACE. GONE.

K and Deckard together, further up the sea wall. Freezing. But alive. Under the blood orange sky of a new day coming. They sit. Find their breath.

Tough as he is --Deckard is overcome with emotion for the first time in decades. Just hearing the word. Brings himself to say it.

Everything he longed for. In a word. In time he breathes.

The grand CITYSCAPE. Under a blanket of snow. Clean as a fresh start.

K and Deckard trudge through the snowfall. The Spinner behind them. K limps to their destination. Looks up to...

K’s hand slips into his pocket. Takes out...

THE WOODEN HORSE. He holds it out to Deckard.

Deckard sees it. Takes it. Can’t believe it still exists. Something made for a child he never met all those years ago.

Deckard stares at him from a place beyond gratitude.

K looks at Deckard. Wanting him to be so many things.

Deckard’s eyes fill of thanks beyond words. He turns away.

Crosses the snowy field. To the building. TO ANA.

ON K. Watching him go. He lets his hand drop from his wound. A DROP of BLOOD touches the snow.

K’S POV: Deckard grows smaller in the distance.

ON K. Fallen in the snow.

A pool of blood spreads and stains the white snow around him, as we...

MOVE CLOSE ON K’S FACE. His eyes catch something near him only he sees. A warm FALSE VOICE comes, calming:

Just as she said when we first met her. K smiles at this ghost of memory. Of course. A thready whisper of his baseline. Their old favorite.

Deckard walks toward the door. Halts before entering.

The fog recedes, a brief glimpse of true sky before the wool sweater clouds return.

ON K. Slipping. Barely audible.

He looks up at the snowy sky.

And dies.

Deckard crosses through the door. Looks in. Looks up.

Sees Ana in her lab, staring at snow flakes falling from above. A perfect digital reproduction of what falls outside falls here onto her hands. She is completely taken with it.

Deckard steps up to the glass that divides the room.

Watching her watch the snow fall.

Ana turns from the digital snow, fading out.

Takes in the strange stranger at her door.

His kind, wounded eyes staring at her.

Meets them with an innocent smile.

Deckard reaches out.

Hand pressed against the glass.

END.