test.txt

lz77算法("A Universal Algorithm for Sequential Data Compression")的一种简洁直观的实现。

               the front door where he says something to two of his guys 
               and leaves. The guys come in and start carting out anything 
               of any value: cash register, a chair, a loaf of bread...

               EXT. CRACOW STREET - DAY

               Max strolls along the sidewalk, browsing in store windows.

               People inside and out nod hello, but they despise him, they 
               fear him.

               Just as he's passing a synagogue, some men in long overcoats 
               cross the street. Einsatzgruppen, they are an elite and wild 
               bunch, one of six Special Chivalrous Duty squads assigned to 
               Cracow.

               INT. STARAR BOZNICA SYNAGOGUE - SAME TIME - DAY

               The Sabbath prayers of a congregation of Orthodox Jews are 
               interrupted by a commotion at the rear of the ancient temple.

               Several non-Orthodox Jews from the street, including Max 
               Redlicht, are being herded inside by the Einsatz Boys.

               They're made to stand before the Ark in two lines: Orthodox 
               and non. One of the Einsatzgruppen squad removes the parchment 
               Torah scroll while another calmly addresses the assembly:

                                     EINSATZ NCO
                         I want you to spit on it. I want you 
                         to walk past, spit on it, and stand 
                         over there.

               No one does anything for a moment. The liberals from the 
               street seem to say with their eyes, Come on, we're all too 
               sophisticated for this; the others, with the beards and 
               sidelocks, silently check with their rabbi.

               One by one then they file past and spit on the scroll. The 
               last two, the rabbi and Max Redlicht hesitate. They exchange 
               a glance. The rabbi finally does it; the gangster doesn't. 

               After a long tense silence.

                                     MAX REDLICHT
                         I haven't been to temple must be 
                         fifty years.
                              (to the rabbi)
                         Nor have I been invited.

               The Einsatz NCO glances from Max to the rabbi and smiles to 
               himself. This is unexpected, this rift.

                                     MAX REDLICHT
                              (to the rabbi)
                         You don't approve of the way I make 
                         my living? I'm a bad man, I do bad 
                         things?

               Max admits it with a shrug.

                                     MAX REDLICHT
                         I've done some things... but I won't 
                         do this.

               Silence. The Einsatz NCO glances away to the others, amused.

                                     EINSATZ NCO
                         What does this mean? Of all of you, 
                         there's only one who has the guts to 
                         say no? One? And he doesn't even 
                         believe?
                              (no one, of course 
                              answer him)
                         I come in here, I ask you to do 
                         something no one should ever ask. 
                         And you do it?
                              (pause)
                         What won't you do?

               Nobody answers. He turns to Max.

                                     EINSATZ NCO
                         You, sir, I respect.

               He pulls out a revolver and shoots the old gangster in the 
               head. He's dead before he hits the floor.

                                     EINSATZ NCO
                         The rest of you... ...are beneath 
                         his contempt.

               He turns and walks away. The other Einsatz Boys pull rifles 
               and revolvers from their coats and open fire.

               EXT. CRACOW - DAY

               In BLACK AND WHITE and absolute silence, a suitcase thrown

               from a second story window arcs slowly through the air. As 
               it hits the pavement, spilling open -- SOUND ON -- and, 
               returning to COLOR --

               Thousands of families pushing barrows through the streets of 
               Kazimierz, dragging mattresses over the bridge at Podgorze, 
               carrying kettles and fur coats and children on a mass forced 
               exodus into the ghetto.

               Crowds of Poles line the sidewalks like spectators on a parade 
               route. Some wave. Some take it more soberly, as if sensing 
               they may be next.

                                     POLISH GIRL
                         Goodbye, Jews.

               EXT. GHETTO GATE - DAY

               The little folding tables have been dragged out and set up 
               again, and at them sit the clerks.

               Goldberg, of all people, has somehow managed to elevate 
               himself to a station of some authority. Armed with something 
               more frightening than a gun -- a clipboard -- he abets the 
               Gestapo in their task of deciding who passes through the 
               ghetto gate and who detours to the train station.

                                     PFEFFERBERG
                         What's this?

               Pfefferberg, with his wife Mila, at the head of a line that 
               seems to stretch back forever, flicks at Goldberg's OD armband 
               with disgust.

                                     GOLDBERG
                         Ghetto Police. I'm a policeman now, 
                         can you believe it?

                                     PFEFFERBERG
                         Yeah, I can.

               They consider each other for a long moment before Pfefferberg 
               leads his wife past Goldberg and into the ghetto.

               INT. APARTMENT BUILDING, GHETTO - NIGHT

               Dismayed by each others' close proximity, Orthodox and liberal 
               Jews wait to use the floor's single bathroom.

               INT. GHETTO APARTMENT - NIGHT

               From the next apartment comes the liturgical solo of a cantor. 
               In this apartment, looking like they can't bear much more of 
               it, sit some non-Orthodox businessmen, Stern and Schindler.

                                     SCHINDLER
                         For each thousand you invest, you 
                         take from the loading dock five 
                         hundred kilos of product a month -- 
                         to begin in July and to continue for 
                         one year -- after which time, we're 
                         even.
                              (he shrugs)
                         That's it.

               He lets them think about it, pours a shot of cognac from his 
               flask, offers it to Stern, who brought this group together 
               and now sits at Schindler's side. The accountant declines.

                                     INVESTOR 1
                         Not good enough.

                                     SCHINDLER
                         Not good enough? Look where you're 
                         living. Look where you've been put. 
                         "Not good enough."
                              (he almost laughs at 
                              the squalor)
                         A couple of months ago, you'd be 
                         right. Not anymore.

                                     INVESTOR 1
                         Money's still money.

                                     SCHINDLER
                         No, it isn't, that's why we're here.

               Schindler lights a cigarette and waits for their answer. It 
               doesn't come. Just a silence. Which irritates him.

                                     SCHINDLER
                         Did I call this meeting? You told 
                         Mr. Stern you wanted to speak to me. 
                         I'm here. Now you want to negotiate? 
                         The offer's withdrawn.

               He caps his flask, pockets it, reaches for his top coat.

                                     INVESTOR 2
                         How do we know you'll do what you 
                         say?

                                     SCHINDLER
                         Because I said I would. What do you 
                         want, a contract? To be filed where?
                              (he slips into his 
                              coat)
                         I said what I'll do, that's our 
                         contract.

               The investors study him. This is not a manageable German.

               Whether he's honest or not is impossible to say. Their glances 
               to Stern don't help them; he doesn't know either.

               The silence in the room is filled by the muffled singing 
               next door. One of the men eventually nods, He's in. Then 
               another. And another.

               INT. FACTORY FLOOR - DAY

               A red power button is pushed, starting the motor of a huge 
               metal press. The machine whirs, louder, louder.

               INT. UPSTAIRS OFFICE - SAME TIME - DAY

               Schindler, at a wall of a windows, is peering down at the 
               lone technician making adjustments to the machine.

                                     STERN
                         The standard SS rate for Jewish 
                         skilled labor is seven Marks a day, 
                         five for unskilled and women. This 
                         is what you pay the Economic Office, 
                         the laborers themselves receive 
                         nothing. Poles you pay wages. 
                         Generally, they get a little more. 
                         Are you listening?

               Schindler turns from the wall of glass to face his new 
               accountant.

                                     SCHINDLER
                         What was that about the SS, the rate, 
                         the... ?

                                     STERN
                         The Jewish worker's salary, you pay 
                         it directly to the SS, not to the 
                         worker. He gets nothing.

                                     SCHINDLER
                         But it's less. It's less than what I 
                         would pay a Pole. That's the point 
                         I'm trying to make. Poles cost more.

               Stern hesitates, then nods. The look on Schindler's face 
               says, Well, what's to debate, the answer's clear to any fool.

                                     SCHINDLER
                         Why should I hire Poles?

               INT. FACTORY FLOOR - DAY

               Another machine starting up, growling louder, louder --

               EXT. PEACE SQUARE, THE GHETTO - DAY

               To a yellow identity card with a sepia photograph a German 
               clerk attaches a blue sticker, the holy Blauschein, proof 
               that the carrier is an essential worker. At other folding 
               tables other clerks pass summary judgment on hundreds of 
               ghetto dwellers standing in long lines.

                                     TEACHER
                         I'm a teacher.

               The man tries to hand over documentation supporting the claim 
               along with his Kennkarte to a German clerk.

                                     CLERK
                         Not essential work, stand over there.

               Over there, other "non-essential people" are climbing onto 
               trucks bound for unknown destinations. The teacher reluctantly 
               relinquishes his place in line.

               EXT. PEACE SQUARE - LATER - DAY

               The teacher at the head of the line again, but this time 
               with Stern at his side.

                                     TEACHER
                         I'm a metal polisher.

               He hands over a piece of paper. The clerk takes a look, is 
               satisfied with it, brushes glue on the back of a Blauschein 
               and sticks it to the man's work card.

                                     CLERK
                         Good.

               The world's gone mad.

               INT. FACTORY FLOOR - DAY

               Another machine starting up, a lathe. A technician points 
               things out to the teacher and some others recruited by Stern.

               The motor grinds louder, louder.

               INT. APARTMENT - DAY

               Schindler wanders around a large empty apartment. There's 
               lots of light, glass bricks, modern lines, windows looking