MARK: Right. There are five of us. We have one typewriter, nothing else. We have a deadline that… hasn’t really been communicated very well…
MAX: …but it’s a hard deadline regardless.
MARK: That’s true. There’s really no point in asking for an extension. once Jobs’ ego breaks through, either this Omega Protocol thing is ready to go or it isn’t. So… options?
DOC: Well I say we get this thing started. Frank, go down to the store, get me a pack of cigarettes, and spring for a bottle of Scotch.
MARK: Nice, Doc, it’s been ten minutes and you’re already contributing to the delinquency of a minor.
FRED: I’m not a minor! I’m 21!
MARK: Sure you are.
FRED: … in octal.