R.O.T.O.R. (1987) - full transcript

[ Helicopter chopper whirring ]

MAN ON RADIO: Hey, everybody,

it's five minutes

before the big hour of 5:00

here on Frantic Friday.

We're rockin' and rollin'

and shootin' those big 45s

at KROK FM Drive at hometime.

Everybody's crowding

out of downtown big D,

so let's go to our KROK guy

in the sky, Doug Doogan,

tune into Power 106FM

KROK chopper!

Hey, Doug, what's it looking like

from up there?

DOUG: Hey, big buddy, things are

getting pretty jammed up down there.

75 Central Expressway

is backed up all the way to LBJ

and I-35 northbound is packed

because everybody who is anybody

is headed toward the lake.

This is Doug Doogan,

and that's the whirly bird's-eye view

of the K-Wreck report.

Drive carefully, Dallas,

and have a --

[ Radio turned off ]

WOMAN: I hope I brought enough food

for this weekend.

I'm really looking forward

to relaxing on the lake.

PAUL: I'm not worried, you always

bring enough food for an army.

I'm leaving all my troubles

at the office.

No phone, no work,

just a quiet, peaceful weekend

at the lake.

[ Explosion ]

WOMAN: Paul, what's that?

PAUL: What the hell?

[ Heavy breathing ]

Call the police.

Paul, call 911.

MAN: You bet.

Call 'em. This ol' boy

just killed a motorcycle cop.

I seen him.

-MAN: Switchboard.

-Yeah, give me the police, please.

MAN: Police department.

Name, please.

This is Paul Loftus.

MAN: What's your location, sir?

I'm at Lake Dallas

at, uh, Cane's Fishing Lodge.

MAN: What's the nature

of your problem, sir?

I think there's been a murder.

[ Police radio in background ]

Captain Coldyron,

Detective Glorioso.

This here is Detective Grotes

with the division.

Are you ready, sir?

We're going into the division

on this, Captain.

Lean back and relax, sir.

You'll shower and shave downtown.

It's gonna be a long night.

Buckle up for safety, sir.

[ Chuckles ]

Sure, you bet.

COLDYRON: My name is Coldyron,

Barrett Coldyron.

I'm a Captain

with the Dallas Police Department,

in charge

of their tactical operations lab.

Two days ago, I was considered

one of the leaders

in the field of police robotics.

Today, I'm thought of as a modern-day

Dr. Frankenstein.

My objective was pure enough,

to make the streets of the city

a little safer,

where gangs of punks, dope dealers,

and the rest of society's scum

could be effectively controlled

and hopefully eradicated.

A controlled army of police robots

could stop the slaughter

of the hundreds of policemen

who sacrificed their lives every year

in the protection

of those they serve.

But how do you stop

a killing machine gone berserk,

with only a go button

and no compassion?

This battle may have been lost,

but the war continues.

There's just too much at stake

to give up now.

A way must be found

to protect society from itself.

Still another chance.

Maybe it can be done.

Just maybe.

Sir?

Uh, yes, sir.

We can gain entry

into every classified paper

in the tactical operations lab,

Dr. Coldyron.

We'd rather get it from you, though.

Make no mistake,

we will do so in any event.

Talk or not.

You know that this isn't

an official debriefing.

Officially not an arrest questioning.

Then, please state so for the record,

Doctor...unofficially.

Officially.

Officially.

For the record?

Or for the mayor?

Or the division commander?

Or about 12 other

high-crotched Federales,

perched behind a two-way mirror?

COLDYRON: Last Thursday,

my life was a hell of a lot simpler.

The day started

just like any other day.

The fresh October morning breeze

blew across the ranch,

the cattle were coming in

for the morning feeding,

and a buttery morning sunlight

painted a golden glow

through the ranch house windows.

If I'd known then

what was about to happen,

I'd have never crawled out of bed.

[ Coffee brewing ]

[ Rooster crowing ]

Clearing these stumps

for pasture land

has always been a chore.

In the past, I've always used

nitro or dynamite,

but this new primer chord explosive

lets me practice my rope,

and, at the same time,

it blows the stumps away.

Hm, guess I'd better go back

to straight nitro.

[ Phone ringing ]

Hello.

PENNY: Barrett?

Am I on that stupid squawk box?

Hi, darling.

Can you hear me?

PENNY:

Like you're in a shower stall.

COLDYRON: No, shaving.

You working today, babe?

-PENNY: Give me a reason.

-COLDYRON: Money.

PENNY: Oh, marry me,

and I won't need money.

COLDYRON:

Two can live as cheap as one

if one doesn't eat.

Speaking of which,

if you're a good girl and go to work,

I'll cook the steaks

at your place tonight.

PENNY: The perfect reason.

Call me from the lab.

I love you.

COLDYRON:

I love you, too, Penny. Bye.

COLDYRON: Ten years ago,

when I founded the Dallas Police

Tactical Operations Lab,

our objective was to research,

develop, and construct

the nation's first

invincible police force.

Even though we've made

incredible advancements,

sometimes it's hard

to tell the boys from the toys.

-Good morning, sir.

-Good morning.

The research team

from our sister facility in L.A.

is here today to sit in on a demonstration

of the new IA-1138 endo-chassis.

Good. Say, you know,

I hope they brought

the hydrogenated wheat germ

and desiccated liver this time.

You just can't get it anywhere

like in L.A.

ROBOT: Um, wheat germ

and desiccated liver, sir? What for?

For my handball game, son.

Keen reflexes, super endurance.

ROBOT: Oh, yes, sir.

-Don't ask stupid questions.

-ROBOT: Yeah.

Handball, phew.

Huh, I got your handball game

right here, pal.

[ Hums ]

-12:00 for lunch. Now, you be there.

-I'll be there.

-Good morning, Captain Coldyron.

-Good morning.

-How are you doing?

-Great.

ROBOT: Whatever you say.

Say, Hayley, why don't you hit me

with those seven digits for a date?

-Would you?

-ROBOT: All right, I'm coming.

Good morning, everyone.

Welcome back to big D and DPD's

Tactical Operations

Research and Development.

I won't bore you

with re-chewed details,

but since we're officially

on the record this morning,

let me quickly recap our charter.

We scientists are like degreed

science-fiction writers.

We're all prognosticators

of the future.

And since our particular

purpose of vision

belongs to the creed

of law enforcement,

we open in-roads into tomorrow

in ways and means

of those who would serve and protect

justice and order.

As you know, it's all my fault

that for the past three and a half years

our public benefactors

have channeled funds

into this development project.

Dr. Bryan,

Wilson Institute of Hawthorne.

Is this what your research

has led up to? A tin marionette?

Not quite. Another scientist,

Dr. Steele from Houston,

developed a super technology

constructed combat chassis

out of an alloy.

An unknown alloy,

simply given an obscure number.

I'm Dr. Carl, also from Wilson.

What's your intent

with some little known alloy?

Is there some good vibration

to its molecular tonality

you can utilize?

Exactly. Watch.

Dr. Michael of

East-West Test Center.

The chassis, how can it animate

without gears or motors?

I mean, I get around, but I've

never seen anything like this.

This combat chassis has been issued

a prime directive, Doctor.

Dr. Alan,

Jargon University of Malibu.

Are you saying this thing could do

anything from aerobics to tai chi?

Right, it can do karate

to full-field combat.

DR. BRUCE: Uh, Dr. Bruce,

Johnston Labs, Zuma Beach.

God only knows this is spectacular,

but what exactly

are we dealing with here?

Molecular memory and learning.

All it needs is a supply.

A current of electricity

as a catalyst.

An inducer,

simulative brain impulse.

In this case, a command.

The metal itself has already been

taught the aerobic movement

by the particular electrical impulse

of the induced

corresponding command.

Then the molecules move the chassis

into the remembered posture.

The metal itself can learn,

remember, and teach itself.

It doesn't need motors,

gears, and tubes.

Just a flat place to stand

and a lever that's long enough,

and it can move the world.

Well, who are we

who create such a thing?

Heroes and villains?

The only difference

between a hero and a villain

is the amount of compensation

they take for their services.

At our pay scale,

I'd say we're heroes.

[ Laughter ]

WOMAN: What are you planning,

high-tech rock 'n' roll

to the rescue

of the civil law and order?

COLDYRON: You're on my

wavelength, and you're right.

And I've already wondered

if our creation

is gonna rescue society

or destroy it.

I think Dr. Frankenstein

must have felt the same way.

He was full

of fine intentions himself, you know.

Only he tried to harness death,

and we're trying to harness life.

Either we control society

or it destroys itself.

And next year, same time,

same place,

if you'll be our guests again,

you'll see the product

of the next phase of evolution.

25 years from now,

if you'll come next fall,

what you'll see

will be the only thing

that stands

between humanity and itself.

Remember, mankind is

bent on genocide,

self-extermination.

I will show you the only remedy.

Dr. Coldyron, urgent phone call

for you in your office.

It's division command, Buglar.

Priority, line one.

Bad, as usual?

Worse than that.

He's swelled up like a poison toad.

Hm, the man hasn't had a decent

bowel movement in a week.

I told him to lay off

that home cooking.

The man was 39 years old

before he discovered gravy

wasn't a beverage.

COLDYRON: Commander,

how nice to hear your voice.

Let's not spar

with the social amenities, Coldyron,

and say we did.

Now, down to business.

Do you know who called me

at 5:00 a.m. this morning?

Well, I'll tell you who, Doctor.

Our benefactor, your meal ticket,

Mr. Free Ride,

as you must think of him.

The grim reaper,

as I think of him,

Senator Donald D. Douglas.

The man who gave you the shovel

you've been digging up graves with,

my friend.

Do you know

what he wanted to know?

He wanted a progress report

on your project.

And do you know what I said?

Look, Commander Buglar, Earl,

I know what you're gonna say.

No. No, you don't here, Doctor.

No, I lied to the senator and said

everything was right on schedule.

See, I had to lie to him

because from day one,

you cut me out of it.

You've hated me. You thought I was

nothing but a stupid paper jerker,

a peasant.

Well, I don't know how you're doing,

so I said everything is fine.

Fine, fine, fine!

Then he got cross with me, Barrett,

quite cross,

and said, ''No, Commander,

things are ahead of schedule,

way ahead.

In fact, we're close to fruition.

We're going to have product

in 60 days.''

COLDYRON: Product?

Well, what the hell are you trying --?

BUGLAR: You know what I told him?

I said 60 days is impossible.

Maybe 60 months.

-Do you know what he called me?

-What?

Private citizen.

-And do you know why?

-Why?

Because he can make me

a private citizen in 60 seconds!

Now, why would he do that?

For the same reason a dog

licks itself, boy, because it can.

And because he's got a hold of me

in the same place.

And you have any idea why?

No, you don't,

because you're a lab jockey,

and I'm a politician.

Well, let me lay it out

plain for you, son.

The senator found himself

a holy grail three and a half years ago.

That grail can make him king.

Your project, your dream,

that's his holy grail.

He's skimmed millions

from here and there

and gave it to the mayor.

The mayor took a slice

and gave it to me.

I took my cut, and it went down

through half a dozen middle people,

and you got what was left

for your great quest.

Am I getting through to you, cowboy?

COLDYRON:

Yes, sir.

BUGLAR: Election's coming up

in six months.

With product of your research,

he'll take public credit,

and he'll use it to catapult himself

into the White House.

So, Doctor,

I'm not asking for product.

I'm delivering the command.

60 days.

COLDYRON: And if there isn't

product by then?

Then the mayor, myself,

six other high political figures,

and, oh, yeah, yourself as well,

all go to the state penitentiary

for misappropriation

of state and federal funds.

And your holy grail,

well, that gets turned

into a public urinal,

with your name printed

on a target at the bottom.

COLDYRON: It -- it isn't ready.

Four years from now,

maybe the prototype.

-Any sooner...

-You work for me, Coldyron.

And you get it done.

That's about as far

as you're gonna stick it, Earl.

You may be so crooked

you got to screw your head on.

But you're not pulling my strings.

No, Coldyron, I'm pulling your plug.

You're off the project

as of right now.

Let me tell you something, Mister.

You fire me,

and I'll make more noise

than two skeletons making love

in a tin coffin, brother.

You bastard!

Yeah, by accident of birth, Earl.

But you, you're a self-made man.

I quit. You run the project yourself,

and good luck.

Who's your second-in-command?

Doctor Houghtaling, my assistant.

Give him the keys,

and don't let the door hit you

in the ass on your way out.

Phew, phew, bam!

Oh, uh, hey, Captain Coldyron, sir.

I need to get you down

to the arrange and qualify.

It's that time again.

What's that, Statum?

You want me to go out

and shoot targets now?

After the range, you're getting

in my face about this, Statum?

Right now, is that what you want?

Huh?

No, forget it.

I'll just write it in, sir.

No need to bother.

Uh, I'll just send over

another sharpshooter medal.

That's all, sir.

Sorry, sir. Thanks!

Sorry.

-What's up, sir?

-I got to get out of here.

Buglar just jumped down my throat.

-Why, sir?

-Because he can!

Sir, what are you doing?

I'm giving you the keys.

Keys to what, sir?

The holy grail, Houghtaling.

ROBOT: Ahem, uh, priority line,

Houghtaling.

Uh, it's the division commander,

and it's for you.

Oh, boy.

[ Dial tone ]

[ Dialing ]

[ Phone ringing ]

Baroney's Investments, Miss Gayle.

May I help you?

-COLDYRON: Penny, it's me.

-Hi, you.

Yeah, hi.

Oh, no, don't even talk to me

unless you've had a nice day.

-Take off work.

-Give me a reason.

I quit.

Meet you in 20 minutes,

at Crocketts.

Judy, I'm out to lunch.

ROBOT: So, um, what did

Division Commander Buglar say?

Coldyron's fired.

-I'm Project Chief now.

-ROBOT: Uh-huh.

I got 60 days.

ROBOT: 60 days to what?

Well, to deliver product.

ROBOT: That's -- that's impossible.

It can't be done!

Well, what if --

what if you don't deliver?

Then, you're Project Chief.

ROBOT: Oh.

You, uh --

you gonna finish those fries?

ROBOT: Houghtaling, it's not that one.

It's the index file.

Would you shut up, will you?

Just shut up.

Hold it, all right?

Now, I can't run

a sequential circuitry test

without the impulse feed chain.

Coldyron, this is your monster.

We'll never figure this out.

-Wait, Willard.

-WILLARD: Huh.

Punch in all the impulse codes.

That'll activate the chain,

and we can go down to the tank

and trace the circuits by hand.

-What do you say?

-WILLARD: Yeah, cool.

Well, uh, I guess, you know,

as long as there's no current

in the chain, it's okay,

but we got to keep this room locked

until we get back.

I mean, my God,

if somebody just --

Never mind that.

What do you think this is,

some low-budget Sci-Fi flick?

I mean, what can possibly happen,

Willard?

WILLARD: Well, uh, you know,

for one thing --

I said, never mind that.

That's negative thinking.

Think positive.

WILLARD: Yeah, well, I think we're

positively crazy for even trying this.

Oh, jeepers!

Alan? Alan?

ALAN: All we have to do

is crank it up for the media.

I mean, let it spin across the room

for the cameras.

We've got 60 days.

And we've assisted Coldyron

a dozen times.

WILLARD: I just knew it.

I'm gonna end up Project Chief.

[ Soft rock music plays ]

Say, baby, slide me them seven digits.

The phone number, Momma.

You've got to give up

the phone number.

Hey, baby, look,

I got my bad self up in your face,

and you're looking

everywhere but here.

You think you're bad or something?

Another white supremacist?

[ Loud noise, music turns off ]

Shoeboogie, you're, like,

going too far.

[ Chuckles ]

Another pale face grinding his heel

in a poor Indian's face!

I thank God my sainted ancestors

gone off

to the happy hunting grounds,

ain't around to see this.

-This racism.

-BETTY: You're not an Indian.

Look at these cheek bones, baby.

Either I'm an Indian or I'm a sissy.

And, well, since...

I must be an Indian.

BETTY: Don't you, like,

have some mopping to do?

Yo, love,

I'll prove to you I'm Indian.

Instant Indian lore.

My people were red-hand Apache.

We had a custom.

It's called the blood eagle.

When a war chief captures an enemy

warrior that he really respects,

he lets him choose the way

he wants to be executed.

Oh, gross, quit it.

Go somewhere else.

[ Laughs ]

Yo, Betty, listen.

I learned this stuff.

You see, if that warrior wanted

to prove how brave he really was,

he'd ask to die

by the blood eagle.

Okay, I'll ask.

Gross me out,

what is the blood eagle?

Check it out.

Well, the warrior,

he lays on the ground,

and they tie ropes to his arms

and his legs,

and the other ends of the ropes

they tie to four different horses.

And they slap the horses

on the behind,

and they run

in four different directions.

And, well, the guy, you know...

[ Laughs ]

That's sickening!

That's it!

Okay, that's cool.

'Cause, like I said, once you go red,

you never get out of bed.

My tunes!

Gots to have my tunes.

Son of a bitch!

[ Rumbling ]

Hey, what up, dude?

Looks cool as blue steel to me.

That was 99 cents worth of batteries

shot in the behind.

Somebody owes me ¤3.99.

Somebody in this mad doctor place

got some trouble coming from me.

You don't mess around

with we the people.

We the people get pissed off.

How long before the steaks

are ready?

Mmm, 20 minutes.

Oh, I forgot I used all the charcoal

last week.

I want to get out of these clothes,

and I'd hate to go back out.

Oh, lady, you got some

bargaining position.

I'll marinate the meat

and make the salad

if you go to the mini-mart.

Hm, I reckon you got a bargain.

Sure, we're partners.

Oh, yuck.

Never a black eye around

when you got a steak.

Be right back.

Okay, bye.

Willard.

Oh, Willard.

WILLARD: Hm, hm, what?

Willard, we have an impulse feed

coming in with the chain.

Where is it coming from?

WILLARD: Where is it coming from?

Worse than that, where is it going to?

Change a dollar?

Get out of my face, asshole!

Look, dirtwad, I'm gonna walk

back over to my car,

I'm gonna call your license in

to the cops,

but if you can give me change

for a dollar,

that's gonna give you

about 30 extra seconds

before I call you in.

Comprende, bro?

[ Engine turns over ]

[ Groans ]

Take it easy, take it easy,

and nobody will get hurt.

The car!

Where's the car?

Blondie, what'd you do?

Easy freezy.

Okay, white boy, you get to watch --

you get to watch me

blow her brains up

and splatter all over the ground.

Well, what are you gonna do?

You gonna stop me?

All you got is a newspaper.

I got more than a newspaper,

and you get to guess what it is.

Oh!

Que paso? Que...

Que paso?

[ Grunts ]

[ Groaning ]

MAN: Hey, lady, you want a job?

I'm fine.

Absolutely.

Me too, hun.

In a few minutes.

I know.

Sure.

See you.

Captain.

Just fill in all the right places,

and I'll sign it for you.

And since you're going into trouble...

So, why don't you go on home?

Thanks a lot, Mokie.

I really appreciate you

covering for me.

It's been a long day.

Just doesn't want to seem to end.

There you go.

So, don't use that next time.

Statum and his boys

don't like picking up bodies

with a pooper scooper.

I don't like it even more.

Thanks, again.

No problem.

So, Captain...

Want you to know,

you've done the right thing.

But you ain't no street cop, are you?

Why don't you go back to your nice,

little laboratory and stay there?

You're right, Mokie.

You let us boys handle the streets.

Handle the test tubes, huh?

[ Laughs ]

Sure.

'Cause if I don't handle

the test tubes,

the streets are gonna

eat you boys alive.

Teeth, hair, and eyeballs.

WILLARD: Hm, hm.

I don't get it. Everything where --

where the battery pack is...

it's inoperative.

WILLARD: Yeah, I know,

all the batteries

in the storage generators

and energy transmitter, they're empty.

They're all drained.

What's going on?

You don't think...?

WILLARD: Uh, no. Oh, no.

No, no, I don't wanna think, no.

So, look.

How you doing, bro?

Hm, he looks okay to me.

Come on, we've got

lots of work to do.

WILLARD: One of these days,

I'm going to quit this job.

[ Glass breaking ]

Excuse me, can I get you to sign

up for the policemen's ball?

[ Grunts ]

Hey, what's the matter with you,

buddy?

Get your pecker caught

in the plumbing this morning?

I oughta jack you up.

Spit and polish, academy snot.

God save us all!

[ Engine turns over ]

Willard, what do you think

drained all the energy packs

down in the vault?

WILLARD:

Oh, jeez, I don't know.

You know what I thought,

but, no, nothing was out of place.

I might as well shut everything down

and pull the plug in the vault.

We wouldn't want

some sort of accident.

WILLARD: Yeah, I got the feeling

this is how Terminator got started.

[ Door shuts ]

I'm going to work

after the honeymoon.

That's all there is to it.

What do you mean?

Go to what work?

All you've ever done

is go to school.

And there aren't many jobs

where you can go to class,

take tests, and go to frat parties.

Well, what are you saying?

Just 'cause I'm getting married,

my life is over before it even starts?

Of course not, Sony.

Hey, honey, it's just embarrassing

for a guy to have his wife work.

-Thank you.

-Don't mention it.

Better not.

You know what it is?

It's the wedding.

-I mean, that's what's wrong with us.

-Look, I want a wedding.

And just because you've already

gone through with it,

doesn't mean that I've --

It's a barbaric ritual!

I mean, the sacrificial virgin.

It's heathen.

-It's sweet.

-It's dragging us out, Sony.

Look, it took three weeks

to get this shower together tonight.

And look at you.

You look like you got both eyes

coming out of the same hole.

I'm going to work

after the honeymoon.

[ Sighs ]

Okay, I'll make you a deal, okay?

-Hey.

-Hey, what?

Elope with me tonight, huh?

And, uh, I'll help you get a job

after the honeymoon.

Oh, it's 2:00 a.m.

I'm starving.

You ate at the shower.

That was five hours ago.

Hey, you want to go to the IHOP?

Huh?

I mean, I gotta check

the tranny anyway.

You were gonna lose ten pounds

before the wedding.

Five pounds, Sony. Five!

Gregory, slow down.

That's it, Greg Hutchins,

you stop this car right now,

and you let me out.

[ Brakes squeal ]

You want out?

There's out!

Out of the car,

out of the relationship,

as far out as you want to go!

It's okay, honey.

It's a police officer.

Police officer this far out of town?

Hm.

GREG: Excuse me, Officer?

I was just telling my girlfriend here,

you guys are really cleaning up

the undesirables in this neighborhood.

ROTOR: You crossed the force.

A restricted grid

at an illegal speed.

You guys are tough.

In fact, uh, I'm willing to bet you,

uh, 20 bucks

that you're gonna give me a ticket.

Hey, hey, what are you doing?

Hey, hey!

[ Gunshot ]

Greg!

[ Car horn blaring ]

What's happening?

Greg...

Greg.

What do they want with us?

What's happening?

This can't be right.

There's got to be a mistake.

This can't be right.

I got to talk. I got to talk.

I got to talk this thing over.

[ Brakes squeal ]

[ Police radio ]

[ Pager beeps ]

[ Dialing ]

MAN: Dallas Police Department.

Captain Coldyron, my beeper.

MAN: Hello, Captain Coldyron.

This is Detective Sergeant

John Mango.

Sir, we've got a homicide.

Sheriff's department

found a police name tag

in the victim's hand.

We fed the name into the computer,

and it came up

Tactical Operations Lab,

Captain J.B. Coldyron, room 222.

Can you give us

some information, sir?

Sergeant Mango, sit on this.

Take no action. Affirmative?

MANGO: Affirmative.

[ Breathing deeply ]

MAN: Operator.

Please, you got to help me,

I'm being ch--

Get me the sheriff

of highway patrol.

MAN: Please hold.

I'll connect you to the Sheriff.

MAN: Sheriff's office.

Name, please?

Sony. Sonia R. Garren.

Look. You've got to help me.

There's been a murder.

A motorcycle patrolman

is trying to kill me next.

Hurry.

MAN: Ma'am, are you okay?

Where are you?

Who is this?

Well, this is Deputy Walter Dean,

Ms. Garren.

Can you identify

the motorcycle patrolman?

No. I mean, yes, I can.

He's a crazy cop.

He killed my fiancé,

and he's gonna kill me next

if you don't get down here

and help me!

For God's sake, will you help me?

Where are you, ma'am?

I don't know.

An old gas station off I-20 west.

Near exit 643,

but I can't stay here.

Ma'am, you have got to stay there.

We're not allowed to move,

but I can get word

to the Dallas Police Department.

They're on this.

This is one of theirs.

Look, you don't understand.

He is behind me out there.

I can't stay here.

I have got to go.

All right, but you just tell us

which road and which direction.

State road 919, south.

Impossible! Impossible!

Duty?

Oh, God.

[ Dial tone ]

WILLARD: Project Chief Willard.

Willard, Coldyron.

What'd you do with ROTOR after

we programmed in prime directive?

Uh, Doctor Coldyron,

well, uh, sir...jeez, uh...

Well, his last orders were, uh...

Why, is there something wrong, sir?

What did you do after I left?

Oh, well, nothing much.

We, uh -- We just tried a test.

What happened?

Uh, well, I don't know, really.

We -- we followed

the test activation sequence.

Then we went down to do

a hand search on the relay wires,

and when we came back,

all the power packs in the room

were drained.

Drained?

-Yeah, well, drained.

-What drained them?

Now, sir,

I know what you're thinking.

I mean, I looked closely.

It was still there.

You looked in the tank, but you didn't

check the suspension readout.

Oh, no, why?

-ROTOR's out.

-I see.

Well, sir, I'd like to take

this opportunity

to resign my position

in the company and --

[ Hangs up ]

This is Captain Coldyron

calling Detective Mango, priority.

Captain Coldyron, John Mango.

I'm glad you called.

I found out we got a rogue cop

out there.

Yes, sir. Deputy Sheriff Dean

just called from west of town.

A Sonia R. Garren

called from the road.

She said a motorcycle patrolman

shot her fiancé and is after her now.

What'd you tell her?

To keep moving until DPD got to her.

Good. Nobody move

till you hear from me.

[ Hangs up, dials ]

-Buglar.

-Coldyron.

Damn it, Coldyron,

what do you want?

COLDYRON: You got your wish,

59 days soon.

I just hope you can handle it.

What are you raving about, man?

You wanted product,

you got product.

-It's already killed once.

-What?

ROTOR.

The men you put in charge,

they activated it.

It went out,

put itself on active duty.

Its last program

was prime directive.

Shut up, Coldyron.

Prime directive

in 25-50 years from now.

Prime directive to our ROTOR unit

is judge and execute.

It stops felons, judges the crime,

and executes sentence.

Justice served, COD.

Not another word!

You call the Senator,

and you tell him

ROTOR walked through

a busload of nuns

to get to a jaywalker

with malice towards no one.

It won't stop.

It wasn't ready.

Its brain functions are incomplete.

It can't think twice, can't reason,

can't change its prime directive.

It's like a chainsaw set on frappé.

If, Coldyron, you've had one

of your experiments go out of control,

well, I suggest you reconsider

your resignation

and save your own ass

before the Senator finds out.

All right, Buglar.

I'll go get him.

And when I bring him back,

I'm ramming him

right down City Hall's throat.

ROTOR is not my problem.

You're right, Buglar.

I'm your problem.

[ Robot squeals, stops ]

[ TV music in background,

restaurant chatter ]

Hi.

Sorry about the TV.

We got to keep it on

until after the homecoming.

Can I get you some hot coffee?

Hm, coffee...

Yeah, sure.

-Cream and sugar with that, ma'am?

-Yeah.

It's Captain Coldyron

calling Detective Mango, emergency.

John Mango.

Sonia R. Garren, where is she?

I'm gonna bring her in...alone.

[ Loud crash ]

Hey, you can't come in here

like that!

[ Inaudible mumbling ]

[ Grunts ]

[ Screams ]

[ Patrons panicking ]

Hey, little lady,

what's the deal here?

-Out of my way!

-This guy giving you a problem?

Hey, faggot city cop, you ain't got

shit around here, bud.

How about a real man, asshole?

Oh, my God!

Are you all right?

[ Grunts ]

[ Panting ]

Psst, hey, come on over here!

Come on!

Right down there. Go through

that little trap door, right there.

SONY: Stay away from the glass.

Get back, he's dangerous.

MAN: What's your problem, bud?

[ Man groaning, screaming ]

[ Sony crying ]

SONY: Get out of here.

Leave me alone!

[ Sony struggling ]

Please, help me.

MAN: Come on up here.

You'll be okay.

Just sit right there, honey.

Hey, you! Pull that trigger,

and they're gonna be picking up

little bitty pieces of blue pig shit

all over the parking lot.

[ Gunshot ]

Son of a bitch!

[ Gunshot ]

[ Horn honking ]

[ Horn continuously honking ]

[ Growls ]

[ Groaning ]

[ Sighs ]

Breaker, breaker.

Sonia Garren.

Come in.

COLDYRON: Come in, Sonia.

Who is this?

Sonia Gerran, the '86 Impulse?

Yeah, yeah, who is this?

-Are you all right, Sonia?

-Yes!

This is Captain Barrett Coldyron.

I just pulled into the gas station

in the Isuzu Trooper.

I've been trying to find you.

Before the motorcycle cop

caught up to you...

[ Motorcycle engine revving ]

Oh, God.

Eat this, you alloy son of a bitch!

What's happening?

What's going on?

Sonia, he's after you.

I think I crippled him,

at least his ride.

Listen to me.

The cop's name is ROTOR.

He's gone renegade.

Keep moving.

Don't go home. Don't stop for help.

Just keep moving.

I'm going for help.

I'll be gone, I don't know...

a few hours.

Can you keep moving

until I get back?

I have to stop him,

and you have to be the bait.

Can you do it?

Yeah, maybe.

Help me, Sonia.

Help me help you.

This thing, R¤T¤¤

is on a rampage.

If he stays after you, he won't go off

on a killing spree. All right?

Wait a minute,

what are you talking about?

Is that thing...

Hey, what do you mean?

Answer me!

Meet me.

Do you know Lake Dallas?

Any of the fishing camps out there?

I don't know

any of the fishing camps.

I know some of the roads

up at the fishing camps.

Good. There's a big sign

that says Cane's Fishing Lodge.

On the left, yeah.

Okay, now, listen close.

Meet me there at 4:00 p.m.

Can you do it?

Get this son of a bitch

away from me, Captain.

Hang on, Sonia!

[ Phone dialing ]

Operator.

I'd like to make a call

to Houston, Texas.

Area code 713.

[ Phone ringing ]

[ Answering machine beeps ]

Welcome to the machine.

Leave the name,

leave the number,

if you know what's good for you.

COLDYRON:

If this is Doctor Corrine Steele,

I'm Barrett Coldyron.

It's 5:45 a.m.

We've never met,

but I need you.

I'll wait at the American Airlines

ticket counter in Dallas

until you get here.

ROTOR is out.

[ Rock music playing ]

[ Music stops ]

Well, hey, Officer,

there's an on/off switch

on that radio, you know?

Whoa! Please, don't!

Oh, jeez!

Don't fail me now!

Woo! God, dang!

[ Tires squeal ]

AIRPORT PA: American Airlines

now deplaning flight 643

from Los Angeles

at gate number 22B.

[ Inaudible dialogue ]

AIRPORT PA:

American Airlines...

[ Inaudible dialogue ]

[ Inaudible dialogue ]

COLDYRON: I'm sorry we finally got

to meet like this, Dr. Steele.

I feel like old friends

meeting again.

You know, we got to know

each other's papers

in mathematics pretty well.

Your designs for the combat chassis

are the most brilliant I've ever seen.

It was nothing

without your own brain matrix.

He's out there.

We made him, and he's doing

what he made him for.

In science, there's no room

for human error.

There's no place for it in law.

We built the perfect lawman.

One who could walk into the streets

of blood, the cities of fire,

the edge of destruction,

and function perfectly,

again and again.

And already, look what's happened.

Human error.

Now, I've got to bring him back in.

You know it's impossible, don't you?

Yeah, maybe.

-Except for this.

-The deactivation key?

Come on.

Yeah, well, maybe like you said,

impossible, but...

Let me ask you something, Steele.

Can we bring him in?

You got the key.

I've done my homework already.

Let me ask you something.

Can he be stopped?

I don't know.

When I stack 'em,

they stay stacked.

Yes. Thank you for calling

Lincoln Hotel.

Good morning.

Welcome to Lincoln Hotel.

May I check for your reservation?

Steele, C.R. Steele.

We're not knocking over

tin cans here. This is reality.

Doctor Steele.

Yes, room 222.

-Great.

-What?

-That's his badge number.

-Superstitious, huh?

Could I have another room?

There's no sense tempting reality

too darn much.

Remember what I said

at ROTOR's christening?

First prototype of a future battalion.

On the battlefield highways

of the future,

he'll be the judge, jury,

and executioner.

Now I've got to wonder,

were we playing God

breathing life

into our artificial Adam?

Or have we lost sight of paradise?

What was it Newton said?

Did I request the, Maker, from my clay

to mold me man?

Did I solicit thee from darkness

to promote me?

Is it his fault he is what he is,

or is it ours?

Well, either way,

he's out there now.

25 years too soon.

Let's go get him.

STEELE: Clear the way, please!

Clear the way!

We're cut off.

No backing, no backup.

I don't know what's happening,

except for this.

I know he's not

on an ongoing program.

Something in the molecular memory

of the chassis alloy,

it's affecting the brain matrix.

-How so?

-He's programming himself.

He's got more potential

than we ever dreamed.

Oh, God. The brain matrix,

it's modeled after your own

lower brain functions,

without the higher functions

to control them.

A brain without a heart.

A conscious without recognition.

A will without a soul.

If I miss, you'll be fighting

your own base instincts.

To combat pure will,

you'll have to use pure illogic.

What do you mean?

You will have to allow yourself

to fail.

Use your failure against him.

Your failure is his failure.

Your weakness is his weakness.

Then, only then,

can you do something.

Great, except I don't know

what any of that means.

Let's hope you never have to find out.

Remember, you're the brains,

I'm just the brawn.

Sure.

I can pick him up now and then

on the trace monitor.

STEELE: Probably when he's having

power surges.

He's draining constantly.

I got a theory.

What if I force

his substructure plates apart?

COLDYRON: If you got that close,

you could use the key.

STEELE: If I got that close,

finding the keyhole would be

the last thing on my mind.

Come on, what if?

COLDYRON:

It would cause a power surge.

His inner electrical current

would surge to the surface, draw off.

Right there,

you'd get the full charge.

STEELE: What if I got that close?

COLDYRON: Could work,

but don't get that close.

[ Loud crash ]

COLDYRON: Here's the story.

The girl, Sonia Gerran,

somehow got in his way.

I don't know, ran a stop sign

or something.

ROTOR killed her boyfriend.

She ran.

The robot is programmed to chase.

I caught up to her last night.

She's okay. She's resourceful.

Been driving ever since,

keeping him occupied tracking her.

STEELE: My God,

what have we done?

COLDYRON: I wish I knew.

Come on, Mr. Coldyron.

I'm here, he's here.

Where in the hell are you?

STEELE: There it is, on the screen.

Power surge.

We've got him!

COLDYRON:

All right, let's get off the road

and go cross country from here.

You don't happen to know

any good Indian trackers, do you?

Used to spend every summer

on the Indian reservation.

Will I do?

I'm like a cemetery.

I'll take anybody.

-Don't step in that.

-Okay.

Shit!

-COLDYRON: Look here.

-STEELE: Is it his?

COLDYRON:

Well, it ain't Pee-Wee Herman's.

You've been accused

of being an accomplice

in a major traffic violation.

Oh, God, make it a dream.

I am ROTOR.

You are guilty.

Get away from me!

-Guilty.

-You're insane!

All right.

Don't move, now, Sonia.

We've got him, okay?

I hope.

ROTOR!

ROTOR!

This concludes the drill.

That's all for today.

ROTOR: Mm.

[ Grunts ]

Throw me that bag!

Hurry!

Buy me one more minute.

Sony, help me!

Tie the primer cord off!

Coldyron, watch!

Sony, get in the Trooper!

Get ready to back it off

and take up the slack!

Come on, you monster!

What's the matter,

using my brain to think with?

You think I'd set you up?

Enough!

Do you understand?

I said, no more!

Enough! No more!

[ Grunting ]

Come on!

Damn you, you bastard!

I give up!

You hear me?

I give up!

[ Horn honking ]

[ Horn continuously honking ]

The robot's electric discharge

is gonna detonate the fiber cord!

For Christ sake, get down!

COLDYRON:

We all got plenty of time

to figure out what this means

to each one of us.

I'm gonna leave my report

in my office.

After that, I got a ranch,

I got a horse, I got a pretty girl.

And, like you, I got a future.

One day at a time.

Justice served. COD.

BUGLAR: ''To Mr. Brett Coldyron,

Oxford University

Science Department.

Dear Brett,

we are sorry to inform you

of the sudden and tragic death

of your uncle Barrett C. Coldyron.

Heroically, he gave his life

in the line of duty.

As you were his only heir,

his papers and personal effects

will be forwarded to you.

Again, we deeply regret the loss

of your uncle and share your grief.

Sincere condolences,

Earl G. Buglar,

Division Commander,

Dallas Police Department.''

BRETT: The journal of Brett Coldyron,

11-13-87.

Six weeks later, I received

my late uncle's journals

along with a substantial

cash inheritance.

In his last notes

about the ROTOR incident,

my uncle wrote,

'I hope we'll learn

not to fear our technologies,

but to fear the people

who use them.'

I personally feel that when he created

the perfect police combat unit,

he deleted a very special ¤uality

law enforcement was founded on,

human mercy.