CYBERDYNE SYSTEMS: The corporate headquarters of a mega-electronic corporation. As imposing cubist castle of black glass. The second floor elevator doors slide open with a whisper and Miles Dyson strides out. Black. In his early thirties. The star of the Special Projects Division. He's brilliant, aggressive, driven. Dyson walks down the corridor, swinging his arms... a man in a hurry. A man with much to do.
He reaches a solid security door and zips his electronic key-card through the scanner. The door unlocks with a clunk. The sign next to the door reads: SPECIAL PROJECTS DIVISION: AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY. He nods to the guards as he passes through the security checkpoint station.
They can see all activities on the floor on their bank of monitors. He unlocks another service door with his card and enters the Artificial Intelligence (A.I.) Lab. The lab is quite large, comprising banks of processors, disk drives, test bays, prototype assembly areas. Extremely high tech.
DYSON: Greetings, troops.
He is jokingly saluted by fellow members. Not a lab coat in sight. This is strictly jeans and sneakers crowd. All young and bright. They sit at their consoles drinking Coke and changing technology as we know it. A young lab assistant rushes over to Dyson. Name tag says he's Bryant.
BRYANT: Mr. Dyson? The material teams wants to run another test on the uh... on it.
DYSON: Yup. Come on. I'll get it.
Dyson produces an unusual-looking key from his pocket as they stride through the lab. Bryant has to hustle to keep up.
BRYANT: Listen, Mr. Dyson, I know I haven't been here that long, but I was wondering if you could tell me... I mean, if you know...
DYSON: Know what?
BRYANT: Well... where it came from.
DYSON: I asked them that question once. Know what they told me? Don't ask.
VAULT ROOM: Dyson enters with Bryant. Dyson and a guard stand together before what looks like a high-tech bank vault. It requires two keys to open, like the launch controls in a nuclear silo. The guard and Dyson insert their keys and turn them simultaneously.
Dyson then enters a passcode at a console and the vault unlocks itself with a sequence of clunks. The door swings open and Dyson enters. Bryant stays outside with the guard, who notes Dyson's name and item on a clipboard.
Inside the vault, Dyson walks to a stainless steel cabinet and opens it. Inside is a small artifact in a sealed container of inert gas. IT -- a ceramic rectangle, about the size of a domino, the color of liver.
It has been shattered, painstakingly reconstructed and mounted on a metal frame. Dyson removes the artifact, it its insert-gas, and sets it on a specially-designed cart. He handles it like the Turin Shroud. Dyson closes the cabinet.
Turns to the one next to it. Opens its door. In this cabinet is a larger object... an intricate metal hand and forearm. At the elbow, the metal is twisted and crushed. But the forearm and hand are intact.
Its metal surface scorched and discolored, it stands upright in a vacuum flask, as if saluting. This is all that remains of the terminator Sarah destroyed. Dyson stares at it, lost in thought. Then he closes the cabinet.
INT. INTERVIEW ROOM/OBSERVATION ROOM: We can see through the one-way mirror into the interview room where Sarah is still talking with Silberman. The other psychologists are still watching through the mirror. Reviewing Sarah's condition.
SARAH: So what do you think, Doctor? I've shown a lot of improvement, haven't I?
SILBERMAN: You see, Sarah... here's the problem. I know how smart you are, and I think you're just telling me what I want to hear. I don't think you really believe who you've been telling me today.
We go tight on Sarah's reaction. And we see that Silberman is right. She was playing him and it didn't work. And she knows she's fucked. Her tone becomes quite pleading.
SARAH: You have to let me see my son. Please. It's very important. He's in danger. At least let me call him --
Silberman pins her with his sweet reptilian gaze.
SILBERMAN: I'm afraid not. Not for a while. I don't see any choice but to recommend to the review board that you stay here another six months.
Sarah's eyes turn cold and lethal in one second. She knows she's lost. She knows this guy is just playing with her, and she -- leaps across the table at him.
SARAH: YOU SON OF A BITCH!!
Silberman jumps back and the attendants dive on her. She is writhing and twisting like a bobcat. Silberman whips open a drawer and pulls out a syringe. He jabs it into her and she yells --
SARAH: Goddammit. Let me go!! Silberman! You don't know what you're doing! You fuck! You're dead! You hear me!!
Silberman signals and the attendants drag her out. He looks at the doctors behind the glass. Shrugs.
SILBERMAN: Model citizen.