(In lab, in cage)

Pinky: Gee, Brain, how are we going to try to take over the world tonight? Are we going to build a giant ball of yarn and use it to smother the whitehouse? NARF!

Brain: Please, Pinky. You know as well as I that no true administrative power rests in the hands of our somewhat dim-witted executive.

Pinky: Well I know that Brain, but the resulting demorilizing effect on the nation’s buyers could cause as much as a seven percent decline in the national sales index, and once that happens, poit, you’ve got Alan Greenspan right where you want him. (becomes distracted by a length of kite string) HA HA HA! WHEE! ZORT!

Brain: (He looks at the camera, grins insanely, then studiously forces his features back to normal.) No, Pinky, we shall gain control over the most powerful artifact in the history of this solar system!

Pinky: We’re going to get a Furbie? Yaaaay! (hit by thrown eraser, which he nearly swallows) -ULP!-

Brain: Focus, Pinky. We shall obtain the stone of the rats of NIMH!

Pinky: (sly) You believed everything that Brisby dame told you, didn’t you?

Brain: Have a little faith, Pinky. (unlocks the cage by pulling up on the latch a la NIMH cage. They walk over to the computer on the tabletop they enhabit.) Last June I took the liberty of corroborating our genetically pure specimin’s tale using satelite photographs obtained by somewhat less than above board methods. (He’s dancing on the keyboard of the computer as he says this. An intricate map of the thorn valley complex appears onscreen)

Pinky: NAAAAAHRF.

Brain: (continues dancing on the keys) This alone, however, was not enough to prove the existence of the bauble in question. It wasn’t until I enhanced the image that I saw… this. (we see a rat holding a red medallion. His other hand is extended, and a large collection of wooden planks hover nearby him) This, unless my powers of identification have dwindled significantly since my championship round of the matching game, is Justin, the current pro-council of- Pinky, what on Earth are you doing?

Pinky: Playin’ cat’s cradle. (He leans back and transfers the string from his toes to his forepaws deftly, then raises them into the air and lets the string fall down onto his head and ears.) HA HA HA! TROZ!

Brain: The rules of psychology simply don’t apply to you, do they, Pinky?

Pinky: What’s that, Brain? I couldn’t hear you over the fun! WHEEE! (Throws the string into the air and catches it)

Brain: You never cease to stun me, Pinky. Come, we must retrive the automotive steering apparatus.

Brain: (steering with those weird little winches on either side) Aaah, the thrill of the open road. Pinky, I have become inspired by my newfound mobility. Activate the onboard radio and tune it to a popular "country western" station.

Pinky: Righty ho, Brain!

Brain: (singing along) And yet ah like it, ah luv it, ah won' some more uv it.

Brain: We have arrived, Pinky! Thorn Valley. Apply the deceleration apparatus.

Pinky: Allright, Brain. (he throws himself violently against the break) -ulp-

Brain: Let us make haste. (they jump out of the van and run off into the field)

Brain: I've been thinking, Pinky.

Pinky: Ooo, I love doing that, Brain! Especially when the comics are all done and hung out to dry and you can see all the pretty colors! NARF!

Brain: (ignores comment) In order to obtain the stone, we must find a way into the Thorn Valley political system. What we need is… Pinky, what are you doing now?

Pinky: (tying ankles together with string) I need a safe place to keep my string, Brain. Can't have it going off all frayed and willy nilly.

Brain: And you think that binding your ankles to one another will achive this aim?

Pinky: waaaaAAAAaaaaaAAAAa (he wavers back and fourth, then falls face foreward) -whump- (muffled) hee hee hee!

Brain: Enough of this frivolity. We must find the Thorn Valley Complex. (he unties Pinky's feet by jerking at a single point on the knots, then tosses the string aside)

Pinky: (retriving string) Right with you Brain! Zort!

[Thorn Valley, Senate Floor]

(Mr. Ages is standing before the counsil. Justin sits in the somewhat larger procouncil chair, surrounded by senators)

Ages: The genes which have been left in the field mouse population of the farm will be diluted, to be sure. But we must not underestimate the havoc this may cause.

Senator1: You have no data.

Ages: Data? Data? As we deliberate over their future, Jonathan's children grow in the fields; they can read and write already. They will live to the age of twenty three years, and have that much more time to spread the genetic material. What it comes down to, senator, is not a question of intelligence. It is a question of life span. Mice with longer life spans will change the course of evolution drastically. With all that extra time, intelligence will develop whether the genes for intellect are from NIMH or not.

Justin: You make a strong case, Mister Ages, but we have nothing we can do.

Ages: Justin, there is one thing we can do. We can admit the Brisby household into Thorn Valley. The genetic coding will be isolated and protected from the outside. (chaos errupts)

Senator1: Barbaric!

Senator2: We will not stand for- (and so on. A grey mouse sitting two seats to the left of Justin stands up. She is a full head or more taller than Mr. Ages, and her appearance is lithe. The hair on her face and head is slicked back, and she is wearing some sort of ceremonial robe.)

Senator Allissa: Please, let us have order! I will address your concerns, if you will delegate them.

Justin: In favor? (hands go up)

Justin: Opposed? (other hands)

Justin: The motion passes. Proceed.

Allissa: Mister Ages, your concerns are valid. But we must not force this kind of life on them.

Senator3: Hear Hear! (Justin holds up a restraining hand)

Allissa: There are other, less drastic, solutions. Sterilization is also an option.

Ages: (contemptuous snort) I fail to see how THAT is more hospitable than welcoming them into Thorn Valley. (grumbling in the senate)

Allissa: I should point out to you that they would be forced into a civilization in which they have no place. There can be no peace or familiar companionship, and quite frankly, they would feel unintelligent, which is quite the opposite of the reality. The Brisby children must be allowed to live out their lives as normally as is possible.

Ages: You, my dear, are a very intelligent young senator. But you are a mouse. There were only two survivors of the escape from NIMH…

Allissa: (icy) Ages, you are perfectly willing to belive that you and Jonathan were the only mice with the stuff to make it. I didn't get out as soon as you, but I made it.

Ages: A question, only. This body is uncooperative. I will lay final remarks and then clear the floor.

Justin: Very well.

Ages: You have all created in your minds a picture of an idillic past, a garden of eden. But remember your roots. The past is not a pleasant place. You should not force the Brisby children to live there. (walks off) (The camera zooms out to show the entrance to the hall. Pinky and the Brain are waiting outside) Brian: This looks good. The council is in uproar. Pinky, are you pondering what I'm pondering?

Pinky: (skipping rope) I think so Brain, but why was Cinderella dressed in yellow anyway? It's a gahstly color.

Brain: No Pinky. This is just the sort of break I need. We must assume names more appropriate to our companions. From now on, I shall be Jack. You will be known as William.

Pinky: Can I be called slick willy? Narf!

Brain: Probably not. Come, William.

[Pinky follows him out onto the floor]

Brain: Greetings, rats of Thorn Valley. I come from far off Burbank to lay before you a proposal.

Justin: What proposal might that be?

Brain: I understand you have a conundrum involving the genome of a nearby population of mice. I posess advanced knowledge of DNA manipulation. If you will permit me access to your library, I believe I can find a way to allow the Brisby children to bear only genetically pure children.

Justin: (leaning over to Brutus, a VERY large rat at his right.) Well, Brutus, what do you say? Shall we let this large headded mouse have a wonder in the library? Brutus: I couldn't see the harm in it. But I wonder what he wants…

Brain: What I want is part of my proposal. By gaining access to your library, I could alter my own genetic structure to include the coding you posess for longevity. My genetic enhancements do not slow my aging process as your own do. Brutus: I move that Senator Allissa be assigned as an expert council to these outsiders.

Justin: That's got my vote. All in favor? (hands go up)

Justin: Opposed? (other hands)

Justin: Motion passes. Senator Allissa, show them to the library.

Allissa: With pleasure, Justin. (Allissa joins them on the floor)

Allissa: I don't believe we've been introduced. I am Allissa Hansen.

Brain: I am Jack. Jack Gershuin.

Allissa: And who is your charming companion?

Brain: (looks puzzled. He then turns to Pinky who has tied a bow knot around himself, so that it sits in the front with loops around him. He turns back to Allissa, still puzzled.) Do you mean… him? (thumb points at Pinky)

Allissa: Why, who else would I mean? (she take's Pinky's hand and shakes it firmly) What is your name?

Pinky: I'm slick Willey! Narf! (Allissa supresses a laugh. Brain supresses the urge to throttle Pinky) (as they clear the exit to the council, Allissa's shoulders are shaking even more violently. At last she breaks into an ear-splitting laugh. Her voice goes up an octive and she aquires a thick Brooklyn accent.)

Allissa: I can't take it anymore! (She laughs some more)

Brain: Wait a minuite. I'd know that laugh anywhere. Billie. I might have known.

Pinky: Zort, Brain, How?

Brain: Elementary, Pinky. Billie here is the only mouse with a sufficiently advanced intellect to infiltrate the Thorn Valley security so seamlessly.

Billie: If yous insist on puttin’ it dat way. (she shrugs off her robes and shakes the mousse out of her hair) (Turns to Pinky; her arms reach around to hug him.) Oh, I sure missed you! Pinky, why won’t you ever run away wit’ me?

Pinky: (unusually serious) I think you know why, Billie. My heart belongs to another… poit.

Billie: (flabbergasted, standing back and gesticulating) That’s a HORSE!!!

Pinky: (still serious) You and the Brain just don’t understand us. (The Brain whacks Pinky over the head with a twig) NARF! HA HA HA!

Brain: As charming as this news is, there's still one thing missing. Why, Billie? Why Thorn Valley? Why now?

Billie: For the DNA sequences. I want to live forever as much as the next mouse. An' seein' as how that's you two, we might as well work together. (she tosses her robes into the bushes beside the path.)

Brain: Yes, certainly. Which brings me to the next question. If you've so fully become part of the Thorn Valley community, why haven't you found a longevity formula yet?

Billie: Well, there's two reasons. First, I've been caught up! Have you seen the city they're buildin' here? Unless somethin' major happens, these rats are gonna go type one in fifty years.

Brain: (grabbing Pinky by the nose) Pinkey! Did you hear that? Type one! Do you know what that means?

Pinky: A little bit less than type two? Poit!

Billie: (laughs)

Brain: No, Pinky, it means nothing less than total world domination!

Pinky: I don’t understand, Brain. (they enter the library. It's a huge neo-classical building with books covering every available space. Think Beauty and the Beast great library sequence. They continue walking off to the left, following Billie the Brain's voice echoes strangely)

Brain: That's not surprising. There are four civilization types. The fouth type uses the energy of the whole universe. The third, a galaxy. The second, a star. Type one civilizations use all the energy of a single world. This world, Pinky. (He finds a book on the shelf marked "NIMH Genome" and places it on a podium and turns to Billie) What was the other reason? (Opening book) (The book is all letters. It reads: GATCGCTACCGATTTCCGA…. etcetera etcetera etcetera)

Brain: This is just flat code! There's no listing!

Billie: That was the other reason. Well, it shouldn't take long to fix, but I've been so busy and all. There's a problem with the structural sequences on chromosome six… (she pulls out another volume and flops it onto the desk, opening it to a bookmarked page)

Brain: (reading) But that shouldn't be a problem if you use the Heinman series restriction enzymes.

Billie: True enough, but the structural sequences get mixed up in the code. (they continue to banter in biotechnobable as Pinky looks back and forth between them)

Brain: Well, if you were to use a crystalographic analysis

Billie: Tried that. The coding is structural, not directional. (and more biotechnobabble…) (Pinky ties the string onto the end of his tail and runs off through the library)

Billie: Good… Good… Now, if we can just do somethin' wit' dese segments here and here… (she splays her fingers across two of the pages)

Brain: We could just integrate them into the formula. (Pinky zips by, a rat guard in persuit)

Pinky: Wheee! Ha Ha HA!

Billie: We've already got three hundred fifty nine bases to assemble. Do you really want more? I donno how much the lab's transcriptase can handle. (Pinky zips past in the other direction, pirrouetting and leaping gleefully. He trips over his now extended tail. He starts scooting on his rear away from the rat guard until he exits the shot)

Billie: We're not dealing with human technology here, Eggy. These rats developed all this stuff from scratch.

Brain: Hmm. This is more complicated than I thought… (The rat guard approaches them from behind. He is holding Pinkey by the scruff of his neck.)

Pinky: Wheee! Narf! Ha ha ha! Rat: (gruffly) Is this yours?

Billie: (Senator Allissa voice) He's with me, Alexander.

Alexander: (dropping Pinky) Oh! Senator Allissa! I didn't recognise you with your… hair… up?

Billie: (Her voice returns to "normal") Don't worry. Nobody's recognized me yet. (laughs)

Alexander: (nervous) Uh… Yes. I see… I need to get the results from that… spectral analysis. Bye. (exit)

Brain: What was that all about?

Billie: I do a bit of around townin' like this. Really throws 'em when a feilder walks into a bar an' orders a milliliter like they own the place.

Brain: Feilder?

Billie: Field mouse. You know, like your parents. Poor Alex must've remembered me.

Brain: Remembered you?

Billie: Yeah, he's the bartender at the Hopps. After I sampled the wheat malt I told him not to give up his day job.

Brain: (mild sarcasm) How utterly fascinating.

Pinky: (wrapped in string) I don't know where the string ends and I begin! Troz!

Billie: (laughs)

Brain: Wait, if we used the adenine sequencer, we could eliminate these bases, and be left with… This formula.

Billie: It's a good idea, eggy, but you've mispredicted it's effects. These are the bases that will be effected. (she holds her hands on the book again)

Brain: But this formula is almost inanely simple! We've done it! Pinky, are you pondering what I am pondering?

Pinky: I think so, but isn't uracil only used in RNA?

Brain: No, Pinky. We are only moments away from near-immortality!

Billie: Let's get down to the lab before the seven thirty crowd gets in! (at the lab)

Brain: This is incredible. I've never been able to work with mouse-scale test tubes before.

Billie: They're rat-scale, egghead.

Brain: This is the completed formula. (he passes around three test tubes)

Pinky: Peeewww, Brain, this stuff smells like ammonia.

Brain: Chemically, it's related to ammonia.

Pinky: Whoo, alright then. Troz.

Billie: (snickers) To immortality! (they all drink, iris to Billie, Brain, and Pinky leaving the lab)

Brain: There's no way of telling whether the formula has been effective, so let us concentrate our efforts on our primary objective.

Pinky: What's that Brain?

Brain: We must wrest control of the stone from Justin.

Billie: You aren't actually still trying to take over the world, are you? I ain't playin' no part in dis.

Brain: But, Billie…

Billie: Haven't you learned anything from what we've just accomplished? You'll only succeed in getting anything done if you work within the system.

Brain: (pause, thoughtful look) Hmm. Much as it pains me to admit it, your analysis apears to be correct.

Pinky: Of course it is, Brain. I mean after all she is smarter than you (The Brain grabs Pinky by the mouth at this point)

Brain: I'm aware of that, Pinky. Thank you for putting it so delecately.

Billie: Maybe yous could start a political career. They're very into the brainy types 'round here. (she ruffles the Brain's hair, which causes him no small ammount of emotional upheaval, but which he handles admirably)

Brain: There simply isn't time...

Billie: You've got all the time in the world now!

Brain: Very well. I suppose I shall need to complete my primary assignment first. To the library! (back at the library, by the podium with the genome book)

Brain: Hmm. I'm not sure, but I think this is close...

Billie: We need to get rid of these stop codes. Otherwise the formula will never integrate into the genetic material.

Pinky: Why don't you just try GACATCCTG? All the codes just sort of go away then, don't they? Zort!

Brain: He's right...

Billie: Yeah...

Brain: He must have been affected differently by the genome formula. But if his genetic material is reaciting differently, then the effects should only be intermittant. Pinky, what's the square root of 36?

Pinky: Oooh, sounds like a very odd herb to me. How does it do in salads? Narf!

Billie: We've got to help him!

Brain: Are you kidding? We could use this to our advantage.

Billie: No, Brain. I ain't lettin' you use him like some laboratory animal...

Brain: He is a laboratory animal.

Billie: We're curing him and dat's final.

Brain: (throws up hands) fine. Can we at least finish this code first so we don't have to make two trips?

Billie: Very well, Eggy. I know what a hurry you're in.

Brain: On the up side, this formula will be completed by tomorrow night.

Pinky: Why Brain? What are we going to do tomorrow night?

Brain: The same thing we do every night, Pinky. Try to take over Thorn Valley! (chorus, credits, fade out, the end already)