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ai-movie-pipeline/test_scripts/the_last_backup.fountain
profit 74870f7c0d Add Ollama backend + Qwen3 local inference support 
- Extractor now supports two backends: ollama (local) and anthropic (cloud)
- Default is ollama with qwen3:14b (fits 16GB VRAM)
- Set num_ctx to 32768 for full-script processing
- Added --backend and --ollama-url CLI flags
- Added The Last Backup test script
- Tested: 12/12 scenes valid on dialogue_heavy, 12/13 on the_last_backup

Co-Authored-By: Claude Opus 4.6 (1M context) <noreply@anthropic.com>
2026-04-06 16:28:53 -07:00

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Title: The Last Backup
Credit: Written for pipeline testing
Author: OpenAI
Draft date: 2026-04-06
INT. SERVER ROOM - NIGHT
Rows of aging servers hum in blue light. A red STATUS LED blinks on the far rack.
MARA REYES, 38, sharp, exhausted, still in work clothes, stands over an open terminal. She grips a paper notebook filled with handwritten commands.
On the screen: BACKUP FAILED.
MARA
No. No, no, no.
She types fast, reruns the job, watches.
The screen flashes the same error.
A metal KEY on a red tag sits beside the keyboard. A half-empty coffee cup trembles from the vibration of the cooling fans.
MARA
Come on. Just hold together one more night.
Her phone buzzes. Caller ID: ELI.
She ignores it.
INT. APARTMENT KITCHEN - NIGHT
A small apartment. Functional, cluttered, dim.
ELI REYES, 16, hoodie, anxious energy, stands at the counter eating cereal from the box. His phone is on speaker.
ELI
Mom?
INTERCUT PHONE CALL
MARA paces in the server room, still staring at the terminal.
MARA
I'm here.
ELI
You said you'd be home before ten.
MARA
I know.
ELI
You always say that when something's on fire.
MARA
Nothing's on fire.
A beat. A LOUD POP from the server room.
MARA closes her eyes.
MARA
Something may be overheating.
ELI
That's worse.
INT. SERVER ROOM - LATER
The STATUS LED is now solid red.
MARA has removed her blazer. Sleeves rolled. Coffee gone cold.
She flips open the notebook. A page is marked: "MANUAL FAILOVER - LAST RESORT."
At the rack, she inserts the red-tagged KEY into a locked panel.
Inside: one small drive bay. Empty.
MARA
You have got to be kidding me.
Her phone buzzes again. This time: VOICEMAIL RECEIVED.
She doesn't listen.
EXT. PARKING LOT - NIGHT
Rain slicks the pavement outside the low industrial building.
JONAH VALE, 40s, maintenance contractor, steps out of an old pickup truck carrying a dented toolbox and a flashlight.
He looks up at the building like it insulted his family.
JONAH
Every emergency job is just somebody else's procrastination with weather.
He heads inside.
INT. SERVER ROOM - NIGHT
JONAH kneels by an exposed side panel while MARA hovers nearby.
JONAH
This system should've been retired five years ago.
MARA
It was supposed to be replaced last quarter.
JONAH
And yet here we are, praying to obsolete metal.
He shines the flashlight into the rack.
JONAH (CONT'D)
You got a spare drive?
MARA says nothing.
JONAH looks at the empty bay. Then at her.
JONAH (CONT'D)
That's a no.
MARA
I had one.
JONAH
Past tense is doing a lot of work there.
He stands, wipes his hands.
JONAH (CONT'D)
Best case, we stabilize it long enough to image what's left.
MARA
Worst case?
JONAH
You already know the worst case or you wouldn't be shaking.
MARA looks down. She is shaking.
INT. APARTMENT KITCHEN - SAME NIGHT
ELI sits at the table now. The cereal is soggy. The overhead light flickers.
He opens his laptop. On screen: a school form titled EMERGENCY CONTACT UPDATE.
The cursor blinks next to "SECONDARY CONTACT."
He types: JONAH VALE
Then deletes it.
He types: NONE
Then stops.
ELI
(to himself)
Great.
He closes the laptop.
INT. SERVER ROOM - LATER
A portable WORK LIGHT now casts harsh white shadows.
JONAH has rigged a temporary cooling fan with zip ties. MARA sits at the terminal.
The system begins a recovery scan.
ON SCREEN: 12%... 13%... 14%
MARA almost doesn't breathe.
JONAH
Don't look at it like that.
MARA
Like what?
JONAH
Like fear improves machinery.
MARA
It improves people.
JONAH
Debatable.
Her phone buzzes again. She finally listens to the voicemail.
ELI (V.O.)
Hey. Sorry. I know you're working. Just... if you can call when you get a second, call, okay?
MARA stares at nothing.
MARA
I missed his concert.
JONAH
Tonight?
MARA nods.
JONAH
That explains the face.
MARA
What face?
JONAH
The one that says the server isn't the only thing failing.
A long beat.
ON SCREEN: 33%
INT. APARTMENT BEDROOM - NIGHT
ELI lies on his bed fully dressed, headphones on, staring at the ceiling.
A trophy sits on the dresser beside a printed concert program.
He picks up the program, folds it once, then again.
His room is neat in the way control freaks keep it neat when other things aren't.
His phone lights up: MOM CALLING.
He lets it ring.
INT. SERVER ROOM - NIGHT
ON SCREEN: 67%
MARA leaves a voicemail.
MARA
Eli. I know you're awake. I know you don't want to hear from me right now, but I need you to hear this part. I am sorry. Not work-sorry. Not almost-sorry. Just sorry.
JONAH pretends not to listen.
MARA (CONT'D)
When this is done, I'm coming home.
She hangs up.
JONAH
Good voicemail.
MARA
You grading me now?
JONAH
No. If I was grading you, I'd mention you still haven't asked the important question.
MARA
Which is?
JONAH
If the recovered data has somewhere to go.
Silence.
MARA turns slowly toward the empty drive bay.
MARA
Right.
JONAH
Please tell me you have external storage.
MARA reaches into her bag and pulls out a rugged BLACK PORTABLE SSD.
JONAH exhales.
JONAH
See? Miracles. Tiny, overpriced miracles.
INT. SERVER ROOM - LATER
The BLACK PORTABLE SSD is connected.
ON SCREEN: RECOVERY COMPLETE - PARTIAL IMAGE AVAILABLE.
MARA closes her eyes in relief.
Then another message appears.
CORRUPTION DETECTED IN ARCHIVE SEGMENT 03.
MARA
Of course.
JONAH
How bad?
MARA scans the report.
MARA
Not core infrastructure. Historical footage. Client archive.
JONAH
Can it be rebuilt?
MARA
Some of it.
JONAH
Then tonight is not the apocalypse. Just a smaller religion.
MARA laughs despite herself. First time all night.
INT. APARTMENT KITCHEN - PRE-DAWN
Gray light leaks through the blinds.
ELI sits at the table again, half asleep. The folded concert program is beside him.
The front door unlocks.
MARA steps inside carrying her bag, soaked from the rain, wrecked but upright.
A long silence.
MARA
I saved most of it.
ELI
Congratulations.
MARA sets the bag down.
MARA
I know that's not the point.
ELI
No, it kind of never is.
She nods. Takes the hit.
MARA
I brought breakfast.
She lifts a paper bag. It's crushed and slightly wet.
ELI almost smiles.
ELI
That bag has been through combat.
MARA
So have I.
Another silence. Softer now.
ELI notices the BLACK PORTABLE SSD sticking out of her bag.
ELI
Is that the thing that kept you there?
MARA
Part of it.
ELI
You always say it's temporary.
MARA
I know.
ELI
And is it?
MARA looks at him. This time she answers carefully.
MARA
No. Not if I keep pretending it fixes itself.
He studies her, deciding whether to believe it.
ELI
Okay.
Not forgiveness. Not yet. But not nothing.
INT. SERVER ROOM - MORNING
Golden morning light cuts through a high window.
The red STATUS LED is off. The temporary cooling rig still hangs in place, ugly and effective.
A printed sign is taped to the rack:
OUT OF SERVICE - DO NOT RELY ON LEGACY NODE
Below it, the red-tagged KEY hangs from a hook.
The BLACK PORTABLE SSD is gone.
JONAH enters alone with coffee. He reads the sign.
JONAH
Look at that. Growth.
He places a new replacement drive on the shelf below the empty bay.
JONAH (CONT'D)
Now you show up.
He exits.
EXT. BUILDING ROOF - MORNING
MARA stands alone on the roof with her phone, city waking up around her.
She opens a new note and types:
1. Replace legacy node
2. Build real backup path
3. Go to Eli's next concert
She looks at the list.
Then adds:
4. Leave work before it becomes an emergency
She saves it.
FADE OUT.
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