what is this feeling called love?

what is this feeling called love.
who fckn knows.

I am pretty unhappy ATM. as usual. don't know why I'm putting this online ; can't think of why I ever would havedo e something so silly.

whoever reads this: tell my story. I'll do the same to you.

lynchianscript_thesecond

EXT. THEIR APARTMENT (main room windowsill) - DAWN

From outside we see into the main room of their apartment. The set is bare, devoid of furniture and decoration. The crew assembles the set and leaves. An alarm clock rings from off screen, and CHARACTER A (JOHN) enters looking like he just woke up.

INT. THEIR APARTMENT (eating AREA) - MORNING

JOHN is in the dining room, sitting at the round table there. He's dressed and eating cereal, etc. CHARACTER B (PAUL) comes out, also looking like he just woke up, and joins him.

JOHN

Yo sup bro.

PAUL

Bro I gotta tell you about this dream I just had while it's still in my head.

JOHN

I'm glad that you feel the need to force your dream imagery onto me. That's how I love starting my days, you know.

PAUL

Sssh, this is a good one. I'm on stage at a theatre, naked, and the seats are full. Everyone in the world is there: everyone. But I can't see their faces, they're all sitting in darkness. There's one spotlight shining on me, and I can see all these threads coming out of my wrists and elbows and knees. I look up, into the flyspace, and there's this guy crouched up there. I can't actually see him, I just see that he's there. And he's holding all the strings. I start dancing around the stage like a retard, totally naked, like it's my idea. I remember thinking in the dream, "I want to dance", but it's not actually me thinking that. It's him, up there, pulling the strings, making me jump around naked in front of everyone.

JOHN

(beat)

Is that it?

PAUL

Yeah, that's it.

JOHN

Well, first of all, I want you to know that I hate you for making me do this. But let's do it anyway. Your dream has an obvious metaphorical interpretation: you are not in control of yourself; there's someone else, (God), controlling your actions, forcing you into the humiliating role of an exhibitionist in front of a large audience.

PAUL

Is that how you interpret dreams?

JOHN

No, that is not how dreams are given meaning. That's how you interpret dreams that are presented to you in the prologue of films: as metaphors for a macrocosm.

PAUL

What then, free association?

JOHN

No way. That's Freud, and Freud, although a great and important man, was crazy in a lot of different ways. And free association is one of them. I like Jung when it comes to dream interpretation.

PAUL

Okay, so what does it all mean?

JOHN

Well, in films you interpret a character's dream by looking at its metaphor;

In the real world, you interpret dreams by examining the symbols and signs, and sticking to the central images in context, rather than associating blindly and defining things by archetype. So, ask yourself what the various symbols in your dream mean: the theatre, your nakedness, the audience, the strings and, most significantly, the dude pulling them. Distinguish between symbols as images representing something unknown, and signs representing something known.

PAUL

Well I've always thought of the theatre as the greatest form of art, but in elementary school I was terrified by the prospect of performing on stage. And puppets have always elicited a certain --

JOHN

Seriously. I am not your psychoanalyst. You can't do this to me.

PAUL

Fine, sheesh.

JOHN

Just think about it, and all will become clear.

PAUL

I'm glad you've gotten so into psychology.

JOHN

Jung, baby. He's the man.

PAUL

For some reason I feel a lot more comfortable with Jung explaining how my mind works than Freud.

JOHN

That's because Jung is an awesome guy and a much better doctor than Freud.

They both had inclinations towards insanity, but Jung's were a lot more harmless than Freud's. He just induced hallucinations in the privacy of his own home and wrote about it in a big red book; Freud gave people drugs and blamed every complex on your mother.

PAUL

Yeah, what is up with that, right? The amount of people that take psychiatric drugs recreationally, and are, you know, unstable drug-addicts, is a pretty big indicator that you can not fix something immaterial with chemicals.

JOHN

No-one thinks the mind is immaterial anymore. It's all in the brain, now, and the brain is a big pot of chemicals waiting to be balanced.

PAUL

He should have called himself a...a somatician!

JOHN

(laughs)

Yeah, okay.

PAUL

I certainly respect the guy and all. If not for Freud, we wouldn't have...Woody Allen films.

JOHN

Or Quake, or Doom.

PAUL

Half of The Sandman.

JOHN

And no Madman.

They both laugh, and there is silence while JOHN finishes his breakfast.

JOHN (CONT'D)

Okay, I gotta go.

PAUL

Have a good day, sweetie.

JOHN

You too, sugarpie.

While JOHN gets his things together and leaves, PAUL goes into his room. He walks back into the main room, now dressed, and looks out through the window at JOHN walking down the street. PAUL assembles his own things and leaves.

EXT. cafe/AMELIA's bookshop (corner) - MORNING

PAUL is sitting on his bike beside a building on a corner in a trendy part of town. He's watching a CAFE on the street opposite him. AMELIA walks out holding a coffee and walks across the street to a USED BOOK STORE only a few storefronts away from him. He looks embarrassed and appears to be trying not to watch as she unlocks the door and enters. PAUL bikes off as soon as she's gone.

INT. METRO - MORNING

JOHN walks to the metro. He boards a train with a huge group of people, but manages to get a seat next to an aisle. He takes out a book of Jung lectures and starts reading. He's listening to pop music like Sufjan Stevens, Belle & Sebastian, Stars, The Beatles, The Zombies, etc. Three portly men in white robes with shaved heads approach him and start speaking in French.

FRIAR #1

(in French)

God has something special in store for you!

JOHN

(in French)

I'm sorry, sir, I'm really not interested.

FRIAR #2

(in French)

I've seen your face in visions!

FRIAR #3

(in French)

You hold the truth in your soul!

JOHN

I can't listen to this now.

FRIAR #1

(in French)

You are special, a chosen one. You must pray at a house of God, and seek wisdom from Him.

JOHN

Bugger off.

JOHN returns to his music and book, but the three men stand around him, talking and gesturing excitedly until his stop arrives. Standing by the door, POLLY (POLLY) approaches.

POLLY

Hey, I saw those weirdos trying to talk to you.

JOHN

Yeah. Total weirdos.

POLLY

What were they saying?

JOHN

They were going on about how they've been having visions of me, that God has a special plan for me and all.

POLLY is momentarily taken aback, and glances at the camera.

POLLY

(beat)

Oh, uh, that's incredibly strange.

The train arrives, and they get off with a flood of other people.

JOHN

Do you go to McGill?

POLLY

No, I don't go to school. I'm starting at a new job today. I wonder if that's why those monks work the morning metro rush: all the unhappy worker bees are teetering on the brink of religion. I wonder how many people have woken up on the wrong side of the bed, been approached by some religious people, and just decided to shave their heads and give up their lives to escape the ennui.

JOHN

Your view of holy men, and, um, "worker bees," is really bleak. They're just doing what they think is right.

POLLY

Why are you defending those guys? I saw how quickly you dismissed them.

JOHN

I'm impatient with fanatics, but I respect their place in society.

POLLY

You're right, though. I am being too mean. I'm just sad that this is now my life. I'm going to walk this exact fucking path until I die.

JOHN

Wow. Now you're making me feel bad.

POLLY

I'm really sorry. I don't mean to be such a complainer. I've worked, I just never had a job in an office building.

JOHN

You never went to school?

POLLY

Not unless you count the streets!

EXT. business district streets - morning

Their conversation continues as they walk through streets crowded with business men, both pretending not to notice that they're walking in the same direction. After a few minutes they arrive in front of a huge building:

EXT. LOCATION "A" (OFFICE BUILDING) - MORNING

JOHN and POLLY stand in front of a massive office building.

POLLY

What are the odds?

JOHN

Like a hundred thousand to one.

POLLY

Are you a betting man?

JOHN

That's how I lost my first million.

POLLY

(laughs)

I bet for.

JOHN

No fair, I want to bet for. Let's flip a coin.

They flip a coin. JOHN wins.

JOHN (CONT'D)

Okay, now on three.

CHARA (CONT'D)

1...2...3...LTE!

PAGRL

1...2...3...LTE!

JOHN (CONT'D)

Awesome! What do I win?

POLLY

You win the pleasure of seeing my unhappy face every morning.

At that moment, BULLY SUPERIOR and TWO GOONS arrive.

BULLY S.

Hey, you're POLLY, right? Cool, we met at your interview. This your first day? Let me show you around. This is Tony and Gillis.

(they grunt)

BULLY S. sweeps POLLY away from JOHN, rudely bumping into him. The TWO GOONS, trailing along behind, glare at JOHN meanly.

GILLIS

What's up JOHN.

When they're gone, JOHN looks extremely angry. He takes out a cigarette, but crumples it up in frustration and walks after them into the building.

INT. location "A" (OFFICE BUILDING - lobby) - DAY

JOHN takes an empty elevator to his floor.

INT. LOcation "A" (oFFICE BUILDING - work area) - dAY

Reaching for the doorknob to enter the cubicle farm, JOHN hesitates and looks sad. He enters, walks to his desk, and slumps down in his seat.

INT. location "B" (RESTAURANT - KITCHEN) - DAY

PAUL arrives at his work in a restaurant. As soon as he walks in the door, his BOSS starts to berate him. PAUL acts very meek.

BOSS

Hey, PAUL! There was shit in the toilet left over from last night! What the fuck, PAUL?

PAUL

Sorry, boss.

BOSS

What the fuck am I paying you for if not to make sure there's no shit left in the toilets all night?

PAUL

Won't happen again, boss.

BOSS

It better not. Now let me show you what you're doing.

BOSS leads PAUL over to the deep fryers and indicates the floor underneath.

BOSS (CONT'D)

I want you to pull these out and use this to scrape the grease up.

He hands PAUL a trowel.

BOSS (CONT'D)

Have fun -- and hurry up!

INT. location "B" (RESTAURANT - SINK) - DAY

PAUL stands by the back door of his restaurant, drinking coffee and smoking a cigarette in the squalid alley there. There's a high concrete wall across the way. PAUL sets down his things and walks over to it. Jumping, he grabs the sharp top and pulls himself up, but there's only a desolate parking lot.

INT. location "a" (office building - JOHN'S DESK) - DAY

JOHN is sitting at his desk watching a slide-show of photographs on his computer. Each photo represents a different emotional range, and through subtle variations in his facial expression, we see JOHN's emotional reaction to each image. He is interrupted by BULLY SUPERIOR, who has come over to insult him.

BULLY S.

What were you doing with POLLY?

JOHN

None of your business.

BULLY S.

Do you know her?

JOHN

I do now.

BULLY S.

That's the only reason I can think of that she would start talking to you.

JOHN

Do you know her?

BULLY S.

(laughs)

I will soon enough.

JOHN

Something makes me think that's not going to happen.

BULLY S.

What are you talking about?

JOHN

We walked together, talked some, and she mentioned that she's a lesbian.

BULLY S.

Fuck you!

JOHN

She also told me about her visit to Africa. She was kidnapped by terrorists and they cut off her cli--

BULLY S.

Shut the fuck up. If she's a dyke, why'd she keep looking at me and licking her lips like she wanted it?

JOHN

I don't believe she was doing any such thing.

BULLY S.

You weren't there. She wanted it hard. I can tell because she was acting all nice to me.

JOHN

I guess you aren't used to that from women?

BULLY S.

She wanted it hard! I can tell!

JOHN

Careful, don't get too excited.

BULLY S.

You're a loser. How long have you had this shitty job, and when's the last time you had a girlfriend anyway? You'll never get a girl, and definetely not this one. I know it isn't very often that a woman enters your life, and you can't help but feel hopeful, but I assure you that nothing is going to happen. POLLY belongs to me.

JOHN

I'll believe it when I see it.

BULLY S.

Well believe it, 'cause what you saw this morning was just the first of many.

JOHN

The first of you cockblocking me many times?

BULLY S.

Hahaha! That's rich. Me, blocking your cock? You have to start swinging it first, JOHN. When's the last time you got laid?

JOHN

I'm outta here.

JOHN stands up, puts on his jacket and moves to leave his cubicle. BULLY SUPERIOR stands in the entranceway, blocking his exit.

BULLY S.

Where do you think you're going?

JOHN

I'm going to smoke ten cigarettes in a row. You got a problem with that?

An intense look is exchanged. After a moment, BULLY SUPERIOR lets JOHN past.

BULLY S.

You've got fifteen minutes.

EXT. LOCATION "B" (RESTAURANT) - DAY

A quick, rhythmic montage of pretty girls with various positive natural expressions, set to upbeat music. The montage switches randomly between close, medium and wide shots of girls caught in glamorous poses like those seen in fashion magazines. The emphasis is on the girls, not their clothes. After a minute or so of montage, we are shown PAUL sitting on some steps on the street, idly watching the passers-by, smoking a cigarette. The last girl shown can be seen in the background walking away as YOKO approaches. They engage in a conversation with obvious hostility.

YOKO

Well, hello there, PAUL! I haven't seen you since...why, not since --

PAUL

Yeah, hey YOKO, how's it going.

YOKO

Well, you know, it's going pretty fucking wonderful! I'm on the Board at the company where I work. Yeah, it's pretty major. But it's not like I have to do anything, right! Ha, ha! I'm getting paid a hundred bucks an hour right now, just to talk to you! Ha, ha!

PAUL

That's pretty incredible.

YOKO

Yeah, you know. I'm going to have to get out of this city soon. Montreal's too small for me, you know? L.A. is where I really want to be. Beautiful, sunny weather, all year 'round. I'll miss the French-Canadian chicks here, but no complaints: I'll be getting my fill of bronzed bikini goddesses in Cali, right? Ha, ha!

PAUL

Awesome.

YOKO

So, tell me, how's it going with you? How are you doing? Not still washing dishes at the same greasy spoon, I hope?

PAUL

Yes, actually, I am, except I've graduated from a greasy spoon to a slightly oily fork. I'm on break right now. Thank you.

YOKO

Oh...sorry about that...so, any women in your life?

PAUL

Nope.

YOKO

Ha, ha! Hey, remember in high school when you got really drunk and tried to kiss my girlfriend, and when she rejected you you spent the rest of the night crying and going on about how much you loved her?

PAUL

No, I don't remember that, actually. I think you just made that up, and if I hear you've been spreading that dirty lie around, I'll sue you for libel. I don't even remember what she looked like.

YOKO

No-one since Angie, huh?

PAUL

Who?

YOKO

Yeah, I don't have a girlfriend, either. A new one every night, right? Been too busy getting them to keep them around for more than a quick fuck.

PAUL

I'll bet your fucks are quick.

YOKO

Yeah, whatever. Say, do you still hang out with JOHN? You guys used to be pretty tight in high school, if I remember right.

PAUL

We're room-mates now.

YOKO

No shit, huh? How's that?

PAUL

Awesome. Fantastic. We've been considering turning gay and dating each other, so we can have an excuse to spend all our time together.

YOKO

Ha, ha, that's rich. Remember in high school, how you guys always used to shower --

PAUL

No, I don't fucking remember that. It's because guys like you were always grabbing our cocks, okay.

YOKO

So what are you doing with yourself, PAUL? Really! I don't want to visit in ten years and run into you like this again.

PAUL

Yeah, I would really hate that.

YOKO

You got any kind of long-term plans?

PAUL

I was thinking about staying here for at least a decade longer and mulling over exactly how I want to waste my youth.

YOKO

Well, I certainly hope that you succeed at whatever it is you end up doing.

PAUL

And I hope you leave, never to return.

YOKO

Thanks, PAUL. Well, it was nice talking to you, but I gotta go earn a lot of money doing nothing. I'll see you around, PAUL.

YOKO walks away. PAUL looks extremely angry; his frustration can be clearly seen to build between flashes of girls, as before, except this time their faces are frowning and their poses uninviting. PAUL's frustration grows until he finally lashes out and strikes the wall.

EXT. LOCATION "A" (OFFICE BUILDING) - DAY

As in the last scene, a montage of all different sorts of girls, smiling and frowning. JOHN monologues about love and romance in voice-over.

JOHN (V.O.)

I have never loved a woman (not counting my mother). Lovers are fools, and liars. There's no such thing as romance; it's just an ideal that teenagers invent because they're disgusting, dependent creatures. They never learn how to be alone, so they carry this ridiculous notion of altruism with them their whole lives. Me, I never knew my mother, but I love her because she brought me into this world, and, well, I'm very grateful for that. But girls mean nothing to me: I like them with a pretty neck...pretty breasts...a pretty voice, pretty wrists, a pretty forehead...pretty knees...but I don't love them, not for any of it. I only want them. I don't even know what love is. "Love is a smoke raised with the fume of sighs; being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes; being vex'd a sea nourished with lovers' tears. What is it else? A madness most discrete, a choking gall and a preserving sweet." That's what Shakespeare thinks, at least, and it's true that he's never let me down before. Now here's Percy on love: "Sterne says that if he were in a desert he would love some cypress. So soon as this want or power is dead, man becomes the living sepulchre of himself, and what yet survives is the mere husk of what once he was." If that's true, then carve me out of rock and bury my gentile body, because I'm nothing but a living sepulchre of myself. Shelley and Blake were both Romanticists, but so were Beethoven, Liszt and Mendelssohn. I've read them and listened to them all, but I still don't understand. Ah, well.

The montage switches from pretty girls to a shot of YOKO walking down the street. JOHN's monologue continues, but he switches from talking about love to insulting YOKO.

JOHN (CONT.) (V.O.) (CONT'D)

Oh, look who it is. It's that contemptuous simpleton, YOKO. Boy, I haven't seen him in a long time. Seeing his ugly face again makes me recall how much I hate him. The things he did to us, PAUL and I, in high school. On one level, I'd like to break free from this clichéd relationship, of high-school bully and nerd, but God, do I ever hate that man.

YOKO arrives, stopping suddenly in front of JOHN, who is sitting, as if he hadn't noticed him.

YOKO

Oh, shit! JOHN! How's it going, man? Guess who I just ran into --

JOHN

(jumping up) )

Fuck you, you bastard! Get the hell away from me! Who the fuck do you think you are, coming up to me and talking all friendly-like! I'll break your goddamn nose!

The sidewalk is crowded; JOHN pushes YOKO into the middle of it, yelling and shouting. YOKO responds with the same tone and  volume.

YOKO

Fuck you, you little shit! I'll kill you! I just ran into your faggot friend PAUL, still washing dishes! What do you do, work in some shitty cubicle? You guys are losers! You fucking suck! You were worthless in school and you're just as worthless now!

JOHN

I will tear your fucking head off, asshole! You are a cunt. You are the worst person. I hate you and I hope you die, so fuck off! If I ever see you again, anywhere in the world, at anytime, I will attack you. If I ever see you on this street or in the Plateau I will fucking murder you.

YOKO

Fuck you, bitch! I'll go where I want and do what I please! Do your worst!

YOKO starts to move away slowly, not turning his back to JOHN.

JOHN

(shoves him)

Get the fuck outta here!

YOKO

Fuck you!

YOKO starts walking away quickly.

JOHN

Asshole!

YOKO turns around and flips JOHN the finger over the top of the crowd.

JOHN (CONT'D)

Stupid bastard! You couldn't read until Grade 3!

JOHN returns to the point he had been sitting at originally, and resumes his cigarette. After a very short moment, he is hailed by POLLY, who is walking from the same direction YOKO went.

POLLY

Hey! How's it going? Did I see you screaming at some guy, or was that my imagination?

JOHN

Scream? Me? Who would I be screaming at? I don't even like arguing loudly.

POLLY

Oh, that's weird. I passed this guy who looked really angry, and I saw him yelling at someone around here.

JOHN

Well, I've only been here for a moment, actually. I must have just missed the commotion.

POLLY

I love dramas carried out in the middle of the street. Justice should always be public.

JOHN

I'm sure it was a just cause, and the better man won.

There is a moment of awkward silence. JOHN throws his cigarette away.

JOHN (CONT'D)

Well, I should go do some more work, I guess. I already got in a fight with the boss once today.

POLLY

I thought you don't argue?

JOHN

It was an argument carried out in very moderate tones, but I assure you, my barbs were no less stinging for their lack of volume.

POLLY

(laughs)

Okay.

JOHN

Goodbye.

POLLY

Goodbye.

INT. location "A" (office building - ELEVATOR) - DAY

JOHN mutters to himself angrily in the elevator, then slumps and holds his head until it arrives at his floor.

INT. location "a" (office building - JOHN'S DESK) - DAY

Embarrassed, he sits at his desk and begins to type.

JOHN

(Typing)

Embarrassed, he sits at his desk and begins to type. The words bounce for infinity, caught in the recursive trap of a hall of mirrors that no-one ever visits.

CUT-TO:

JOHN sits slumped at his desk, watching the clock on his computer. It hits 5 PM and he leaves quickly.

EXT. LOCATION "A" (OFFICE BUILDING) - DAY

JOHN walks out his building and calls PAUL on his cellphone. Intercut with PAUL at work washing dishes.

JOHN

Yo, CAFE?

PAUL

I'm not down. I had a bad day.

JOHN

Yeah, me too! Let's meet at CAFE and talk about it.

PAUL

Alright fine. I'll see you in an hour.

JOHN

Word is born!

INT. CAFE - DAY

JOHN is sitting at a table by the large window, facing away from the street. PAUL enters, greets JOHN, goes to the counter and orders a coffee. He sits opposite JOHN, facing the street.

JOHN

Hey. I got to tell you this man. The onus is on your ass first. This morning, taking the metro, I'm sitting, reading some studies in the process of individuation, minding my own business, when these three friars come up and start bothering me, telling me that I'm the son of God or something. I don't know, but I blow them off, and when I'm getting ready to get off at my stop, this chick comes up and starts talking to me.

PAUL

How hot was she?

JOHN

Like a 7.5 cutie. She comes up to me, and starts talking to me all sweet, like.

PAUL

What does "sweet, like" actually mean?

JOHN

Well, you know. All sweet, like.

PAUL

I have no idea what that entails.

JOHN

Just think about it. Anyway, we talk for a while, and it turns out that she works at the same place as I. So we're walking along....

At this point, PAUL stops paying attention to JOHN, who continues telling his story with liberal gesticulations and facial expressions. Directly across the street is the bookstore from SCENE 3. AMELIA exits, locks the door behind her, and walks across the street and into the coffee shop. PAUL tries to ignore her, but as she orders at the counter behind him, it's obvious that he's uncomfortable. She exits, but stops on the sidewalk in front of the window. We see her take out a package of cigarettes: it's empty. PAUL is galvanized into action. Snatching JOHN's pack from his breast pocket, he hurries outside and offers her one. JOHN watches, amused, as AMELIA accepts gratefully, but sighs when PAUL insists she take the rest of the pack. When she's out of sight, PAUL looks at JOHN through the window, smiling, and gives him a thumbs-up sign.

EXT. CITY STREETS - DUSK

JOHN and PAUL walking home; PAUL is walking his bike.

PAUL

I've been in love with her ever since that bookstore opened.

JOHN

It's been like, a month?

PAUL

Yeah. Remember when it opened? How awesome was it having this cool used bookstore right near us? Totally awesome!

Of course the first thing I check is the science fiction section, and there are like, five Moorcock novels that I've been looking for for years. She wasn't working then, but I gave them to the guy and told him to hold them 'cause I had no cash.

JOHN

I remember.

PAUL

The next day when I come back, there's this beautiful goddamn woman working there. When she handed me the stack of novels, our hands touched a bit. It was like holding hands with Rogue, except the exact opposite. Instead of draining my life force, it felt like my body was pumped full of magical energy.

JOHN

It's been over a month and you still haven't talked to her?

PAUL

I just did, jerk.

JOHN

For like, half a minute.

PAUL

My strategy is to, over time, establish myself as a familiar face she sees around, and build up small talk into full conversations. Then ask her out on a date.

JOHN

No, I'm not going to let you do that. Unless you stalk her, it'll take a year, and by then she'll be living with some lifeguard named Vincent.

PAUL

I discovered by accident last week that she works in the morning, and since then I've been taking a detour past her shop on my way to work.

JOHN

Oh, Lord, and doing what?

PAUL

Watching from afar, for like, five seconds every other day.

JOHN

I don't think you're doing this right. If you want this woman, you need to realize that love is a lie. I have, and I am a much better person for it.

PAUL

That is a total falsehood. When's the last time you got laid?

JOHN

That doesn't matter! I don't even pursue women!

PAUL

It matters because it was quite some time ago, so your method obviously does not work.

JOHN

Look...

PAUL

You were just talking about some woman you spoke to for a few minutes. I'm sure you're totally prepared to fall in love with her.

JOHN

I do not believe that love is real.

PAUL

What about that last one of yours?

JOHN

Simply a biological reaction to how hot she was.

PAUL

Listen, man: I don't think it's healthy for you to go around telling yourself that romance isn't real. I know you don't think that; I also know that you're lonely. The walls in our apartment are paper-thin: I can hear you when you cry yourself to sleep every single night.

JOHN

Whatever, that isn't true.

PAUL

It might as well be. We're both lonely. We both need women. Don't worry, though. When you start spending all your money on flowers for this chick, I will totally understand and pretend like you weren't going on about how Romeo & Juliet makes Shakespeare an idiot.

JOHN

Well, I appreciate your understanding.

PAUL

I know you do. Hey, how's your mom?

JOHN

Fine. Why do you ask?

PAUL

No reason.

JOHN

I can't believe you gave all my smokes to that girl.

PAUL

How cool was that? I got it from The Third Man.

JOHN

I think the act had more significance in postwar Vienna occupied by four different nations, but I do have to admit that that was a super ballin' move. That is why you should move in. You totally have that on lockdown, bro.

PAUL

Yeah. I'll go buy some books tomorrow.

JOHN

More of your dumb science fiction, I bet. You're rotting your brain with that tripe, you know. You should try reading some non-fiction for a change.

PAUL

Science fiction has just as many psychological insights as any Jung essay, and literature is a lot more important to the evolution of the human psyche than philosophy.

JOHN

How can you say that? That "Anton York, Immortal" is more valuable than Jung's essays on the collective unconsciousness?

PAUL

Because, who reads philosophy? The layperson certainly does not. The layperson is free of existential angst because he is content knowing that he exists. Philosophy only affects those who read it: educated men. It is the responsibility of these intellectuals to push the rest of civilization forward. Broken taboos and defunct dogmas are adopted as fashion; it spreads through cultures, originating from one person whose mind has progressed to the next level. He understands, but we're all just going along with it. Art, especially film, is the best way of reaching an audience of human beings. Not just intellectuals and artists, but the people who fix our cars and grow our food; the people upon whose shoulders society rests. It's through art that we will reach them, and as artists it is our responsibility to do so!

JOHN

These days, it's through Youtube that we will reach them. Philosophy, my friend, is the most essential thing, the most important thing. You can not make meaningful art without it having philosophical undertones. In all of man's endeavours there will be the need to understand, to make sense of things, and therein lies philosophy.

PAUL

That's not what I'm saying. I understand the necessity for people to philosophize, I understand that it is a component of all great works, I just think that all philosophers who are content to write for themselves and their peers are elitist bastards. They should be shunned.

JOHN

Isn't shunning elitist?

PAUL

Maybe, but in this case totally justified. Leibniz would have been a prime fantasy writer, and if he had, everyone would know about monads.

JOHN

Monads are silly. Can't you use an example more relevant?

PAUL

I think magical particles that exist outside the physical universe but make up all of reality are pretty relevant to this conversation, since it started with you insulting science fiction!

They arrive at their front door.

INT. their APartment (EATING AREA) - NIGHT

JOHN and PAUL sit at their table, eating a meal and playing chess. They don't speak for a long while, concentrating on their food and the game.

JOHN

I have you in five moves.

PAUL

Yeah right, pal. I have you right now!

JOHN

Ha! Ha, ha, ha! Is that the best you can do? You know what, I'm so confident in my plan that I'm not even going to respond to that. Take my piece, if that's what you really want to do. It won't change a thing. Four moves now.

PAUL

You won't be so flippant when I fork your queen and your rook! Hi ya!

JOHN

Again, you can not affect me. Take which ever piece you want. I have you in three moves.

PAUL

What in tarnation! I see nothing! I've taken your queen, I can take your rook in one move, and I have your bishop blockaded. My pieces are spread over the board, my king safely castled, and my pawns still in a solid defensive line. There's nothing you can do! You must be bluffing! Here, now I'll take your rook, and next turn it's your bishop. What can you possibly hope to do?

JOHN

I do this! Two moves, now.

PAUL

All of your moves have been incidental, merely advancing units that I could sweep aside at any moment! Allow me to demonstrate. That knight you just moved forward? My queen takes him like this. Now what are you going to do?

JOHN

Ah, the pretensions of young fools. PAUL, my dear, you have so much yet to learn. Now, in the next move, all will be revealed: my checkmate, and your blindness.

They are interrupted by the sound of the doorbell.

PAUL

Who in blazes is that? I'm not answering!

JOHN

Fine, I'll get it. The game is postponed, but only for a moment, I assure you.

INT. their apartment (STAIRWELL) - NIGHT

JOHN opens the door leading outside, and lets in ROBERT and FRED.

JOHN

Thank God. Perfect timing. Another minute, and he would've figured it out. Now, when we get in there, it's important that you act like you will not have us play in your presence: it's just not going to happen. Maybe even stumble into the board and knock the pieces over, if you can make it look natural.

ROBERT

Yeah, no problem, JOHN.

They begin to walk up the stairs into the apartment.

ROBERT (CONT'D)

Hey, this is FRED. FRED, JOHN. JOHN's a good guy, even though he cheats at chess. FRED's cool, too. He's a bit of a schlep, but that's not his fault. I think it's his parents.

FRED

It's a pleasure.

JOHN

The pleasure's mine.

INT. THEIR APARTMENT (eating area) - NIGHT

PAUL is sitting where we left him, studying the chess board. He turns but does not stand as they enter.

rOBERT

How's it going, PAUL.

PAUL

Pretty cool, ROBERT. I was just destroying JOHN at chess over here. It's just about done, though, don't worry.

He said he has some killer plan and he's going to get me with his next move, but he's bluffing, I know it.

rOBERT

Well the good thing about chess is that you can leave it for another day, right?

PAUL

Dude, that's not happening. Let's do this, JOHN.

JOHN

Come now, PAUL. We have guests. It's not hospitable, and I don't want to embarrass you.

PAUL

Ah-ha! I knew it, you charlatan! You were bluffing all the while!

JOHN

Like hell I was!

PAUL

Then prove it!

rOBERT

PAUL, stop being so obstinate! Don't make me smack you.

PAUL

Ugh, fine! We'll leave it 'till they're gone, but I swear JOHN --

Suddenly, FRED knocks the pieces over with barely any pretense of accident. JOHN laughs loudly.

PAUL (CONT'D)

Son of a dragon! What in blazes was that!

rOBERT

What the fuck was that, FRED?

JOHN

Seriously, dude.

FRED

Sorry, I tripped.

PAUL

As if! You set this up, didn't you,

JOHN?

JOHN

No way!

PAUL

Okay, well I'm counting this as a win in my favour.

PAUL walks over to a piece of paper taped to the wall and makes a note on it.

JOHN

That does not count.

PAUL

It totally does.

rOBERT

Anyway, I brought over this film. I've seen it before, but it's goddamn amazing and I want you all to watch it.

PAUL

What is it?

ROBERT hands him a DVD box.

PAUL (CONT'D)

Oh, sweet, I've been wanting to see this. There's a remake or something, right?

rOBERT

Yeah, with that blonde chick that dresses up in rabbit costumes for David Lynch.

PAUL

She is a super-mega-babe.

JOHN

She kind of looks like my mom.

PAUL

I should think of that the next time I'm banging her, maybe it'll make it a little bit enjoyable.

JOHN

Why would you have sex with her if you don't enjoy it? Is my mother raping you, PAUL?

PAUL

I...shut up.

rOBERT

My God, you guys are so fucking homosexual it's absurd. You're one step away from assless chaps and licking each other's balls like cats.

FRED laughs.

FRED

There is a strong odour of gayness in this place.

PAUL

I'm surprised you can even smell it under the reek of Jew that's been clogging the air since you fegolas walked through the door.

JOHN

They don't notice it because they're both Jewish, and live with that Jew scent all the time.

FRED

(angry)

Fuck you!

rOBERT

Take it easy, FRED.

JOHN

Yeah, we're just playing.

FRED

Yeah, well, I don't appreciate the Jew jokes.

PAUL

Is it a stereotype for Jewish people to insult others without remorse, but then get all offended when they're insulted back?

JOHN

I think that's a stereotype of the poontang.

rOBERT

Holy shit do you guys know how to alienate people. Let's just watch this stupid movie already.

PAUL

Yeah, let's watch this stupid movie! I am so down. Let's do it up!

INT. THEIR APARTMENT (living area) - NIGHT

ROBERT and FRED have left JOHN and PAUL alone. They're sitting on a couch in their living room, in front of the television. Abrasive noise rock plays very faintly in the background.

PAUL

That was fantastic. I can't believe ROBERT likes that film, haha.

JOHN

Yeah, especially since it directly insults the audience. I'm a little bit offended, but I'm fine with it because, you know, I understand why he was doing it. But if someone watched that film without getting everything, that is just the director being a huge asshole.

PAUL

How about that last conversation, huh. I really like that concept, of a subjective reality. Of being able to make it conform to us.

JOHN

That's...not what he was saying at all. He was saying that fiction is as real as anything, because you perceive it just like you perceive everything else.

PAUL

Bullshit!

JOHN

Why? If it's perceivable, if we acknowledge that the fiction exists, as we do by turning the page of the book or skipping between scenes on the DVD, then it's as real as anything, isn't it?

PAUL

I'm going to venture that fiction isn't real because it is pre-ordained and unchangeable, and because some guy wrote it. Start to finish, and it's impossible for the fiction to deviate from what he wrote.

JOHN

Well, I guess the implied argument is that there's no such thing as free will; all of the universe is pre-ordained, unchangeable: it's following the course it set for itself, or God set, or whatever, since its inception with the Big Bang. And we live in as much of an illusion of freedom as a character in a film does.

PAUL

That would also imply that someone wrote us.

JOHN

God!

PAUL

Whoever directed that movie is stupid, and a huge narcissist to compare himself to God.

JOHN

Bro, I don't think that was his intention!

PAUL

He definitely thought all this out, man. I'm sure when he was writing it he was like, "haha, yeah, what's up, I'm God, bitches, now die horribly." That movie sucked.

(beat)

How shitty would it be if that were true, though.

JOHN

What?

PAUL

That there's no such thing as free will, that we're just some film God wrote. Everything we're saying was written in some celestial version of Final Draft. Our reality is premiering at some low-budget film festival. The whole of our life is being watched not even by a crowd of people, but by like, ten nerds who are going to go home and post a review on their blog that only the same ten nerds will ever read.

JOHN

Okay, that's definitely a recurring theme with you. This idea that you're performing in front of a crowd, and that you don't have control of your own actions. You're dreaming about it, and it's coming through in your conversation.

PAUL

Maybe it's true!

JOHN

I assure you that it is not. We are not characters being portrayed by actors. Our dialogue isn't scripted. I admit that sometimes when we're talking it sounds like it is, but that's just because we're both awesome smart guys.

PAUL

It's true that if our dialogue was scripted, no-one would think it's good dialogue. It doesn't make sense that people talk like we do, and our conversations are really long and rambling.

JOHN

Maybe it could pass as really naturalistic.

PAUL

And you aren't funny enough. You don't make enough jokes, dude.

JOHN

I make jokes. Up yours, wanker.

PAUL

If this was a film, if we were being filmed right now, how do you think it would look? What sort of shots would you use?

JOHN

Iunno, we're being pretty boring. We're just sitting here, not moving around or anything. The only way I can think of is the standard conversation two-shot close-up, with the occasional wide- or medium- shot, for balance.

Cut to a wide- and medium- shot, in time with JOHN's description.

PAUL

If this was a scripted conversation, it would have to be reaching a climax, or else the writer is a total retard. So the camera would start moving, or the pace of the editing would speed up.

PAUL stands up and begins walking around, indicating the position and movement of the camera, framing JOHN in his hands. The editing of shots and the camerawork matches what he's describing.

PAUL (CONT.) (CONT'D)

Now, I'd have a close-up on you looking bored as I ramble on, and I'd cut to a medium shot of me doing shit. Then, I'd go back to a wider shot of you, so your whole body's in the frame. I get shot or something, off-screen, and you jump up, reacting.

As PAUL delivers this last line, he moves out of the frame and the shot is set as he describes, with JOHN sitting on the couch with his feet up, looking really relaxed.

PAUL (CONT.) (CONT'D)

Then I'd slo-o-wly zoom out to show what's going on, so we're both in the frame. And our faces are like, "oh shit!"

JOHN jumps up, an expression of shocked disbelief on his face. The camera begins to slowly zoom out. PAUL's face comes into view: it's staring into the lens, terrified.

JOHN

Holy jumping Jesus Christ almighty!

PAUL

Aaah! What the Goddamn!

The camera stops its movement with both characters on-screen, staring into it for a long moment, their expressions absolutely stunned.

JOHN

I saw a video camera sitting on a tripod suddenly appear where the space it now occupies had been empty. I didn't blink or anything. It just showed up there. It's there now.

PAUL

I see. I see it. I can see it. It's there. There's a camera, and a tripod and everything. It's there.

Another moment of long silence, neither character moving, only staring into it.

PAUL (CONT'D)

I'm going to move towards it, and pick it up.

JOHN

Oh, man. Be careful, man. Oh, Jesus. I'm coming with you. Be careful.

They both inch forward slowly. PAUL disappears to the side and JOHN positions himself in front of it, his hands positioned, ready to grab the camera.

JOHN (CONT'D)

Okay, on three. I'll hold the tripod and you take the camera.

PAUL

Okay. One...

JOHN

Two...

PAUL

Three!

There is a rush of movement. JOHN is the only person visible; his expression looks scared, but determined. The camera is picked up by PAUL.

PAUL (CONT'D)

Oh, holy Christ. It's heavy. This is terrifying. I don't understand what's going on. What's going on, JOHN. What's going on!

JOHN

There has to be some kind of explanation.

PAUL

Is it what we were talking about?

JOHN

Shut up. Don't be stupid. It's obviously not that.

PAUL

What if it is?

JOHN

It isn't, you stupid idiot! It's just a trick or something. There's a totally rational explanation for this. This is not God, asshole.

PAUL

But --

JOHN

Look, here is what this is: it's a trick by someone we know, it's a government or corporate experiment, it's mobsters, or it's aliens. It isn't God. This does not mean we don't exist.

PAUL

But we both saw it come out of nowhere.

JOHN

Fuck you. I don't know what I saw. I can't talk about this. Fuck you. I'm going to bed.

PAUL watches JOHN go into his room. He puts the camera down on a low surface, and crouches in front of it for a while, examining it. The image goes through several variations as he tests the features, but he puts them back to their original setting each time. After looking into the lens one last time, he turns out the lights and goes into his room.

INT. THEIR APARTMENT (hallway) - LATER THAT NIGHT

The light is extremely dim. JOHN is sitting cross-legged, his hands tightly clasped between his legs, staring wide-eyed into the lens. His cheeks can be seen to be wet. He stares for a while, then slowly backs away into his room.

INT. THEIR APARTMENT (eating area) - MORNING

JOHN has placed the camera on one side of the dining room table so that he's on the edge of the frame. He's smoking a cigarette and looking angry. PAUL sits next to him. They don't speak for a while.

PAUL

I don't feel so scared anymore.

JOHN

I think it was aliens. It's the only thing that makes sense. It's pointless to lie. I very vividly remember it appearing out of thin air, so there must be technology involved that humans don't have.

PAUL

But it's like, a not very advanced looking camera. It's kind of big and heavy.

JOHN

I can't explain that. But who else would be recording us? Aliens. They randomly picked us as their...test subjects. They're studying human behaviour or something.

PAUL

Well, whoever put this camera here must know that we've found it by now. They've got to be on to us.

JOHN

What? Why? How? What makes you say that?

PAUL

Well, I don't know. I just imagine that "Whoever" has magic powers and can watch what the camera's filming. There's no slot for a removable tape. The footage is probably being beamed back to their homeworld and played on giant public televisions.

JOHN

Oh, god, you're probably right. Oh, god.

The doorbell rings after a moment of silence. JOHN and PAUL look at each other, scared.

JOHN (CONT'D)

I'm getting my machete.

JOHN runs into his room and PAUL picks up the camera. JOHN returns with a machete.

JOHN (CONT'D)

What are you doing with that!

PAUL

I...I don't know....

JOHN

Well, put it down!

PAUL

I feel like we should film it.

The doorbell rings more aggressively, and loud knocking is heard.

JOHN

Whatever! Let's do this. Oh, sweet Adonai, please let it be someone innocent.

PAUL

I'm going to wait at the top of the stairs.

JOHN

Yeah right, as if. You're coming with me. Let's go. Let's do this!

They slowly make their way downstairs, JOHN in front holding his sword out.

JOHN (CONT'D)

You open the door.

JOHN raises the sword over his head, and PAUL slowly reaches out and opens the door. POLLY is standing there. She is shocked by the raised weapon.

POLLY

Woah!

JOHN

You!

PAUL

Who! Who is that! Tell me right now!

POLLY

What the fuck!

JOHN

Are you in on this?

PAUL

Who in a thousand years is that!

POLLY

(to JOHN)

I'm so sorry. I am. I'm sorry.

JOHN

Oh, thank heaven! At least that means it's corporeal! Thank you, God! Thank you!

PAUL

What in blazes is going on!

POLLY

Can I come in?

JOHN

Yeah, sure. Sorry about threatening you with a machete and all.

PAUL

No, you can't come in! Identify yourself, woman! JOHN, who is this person?

JOHN

Calm down. It's that girl I met at work yesterday. I told you about her.

PAUL

What's she doing here!

JOHN

Evidently she has a hand in this foul affair.

PAUL

And why are we letting her inside?

JOHN

She has answers.

(to POLLY)

Right?

POLLY

Right. Don't worry, I'm a good person.

JOHN

That remains to be seen.

PAUL

Hell yeah it remains to be seen. You know how terrified I was? You have put a serious cramp in my mental stability. I was like, 75% convinced that nothing was real.

POLLY

Uh, yeah, well, let's talk about this inside.

INT. THEIR apartment (eating AREA) - MORNING

The three of them are sitting at the dining room table. The room is flooded with natural light. PAUL places the camera on the table, but it's pointed away from the action; the frame is empty.

POLLY

Hey, now, don't put it there, that's an empty shot. Where's the tripod?

PAUL

What? Who cares? What are you talking about? Explain to me now what is going on.

POLLY

Just wait a minute, alright? I'm going to get the tripod and set up a nice shot first. In the meantime, don't just leave it there pointed at nothing.

JOHN

Here, I'll get it.

JOHN picks up the camera.

JOHN (CONT'D)

The tripod's over there.

POLLY walks off-screen. PAUL stands close to the lens and whispers to JOHN.

PAUL

Dude, what is going on? I really don't trust this chick. How does she know where we live? How does she know my name? Why is she involved with this? What is this, goddamnit? I need to know!

JOHN

It's going to be okay. She's going to explain; and anyway, just be glad it's --

POLLY returns carrying the tripod. She places it by the table for a nice shot with all of them in the frame.

POLLY

Here, give me that.

She takes the camera and places it on the tripod.

POLLY (CONT'D)

Now sit over there. I'll sit here. PAUL, you sit there.

They are seated at their round dining room table. POLLY is directly opposite the camera, with a window behind her; JOHN sits to her left, and PAUL to her right.

POLLY (CONT'D)

Now. I can explain to you what's going on, but it might be hard for you to accept.

JOHN

Is it aliens? That's what I was thinking, but you don't look like an alien, so now I'm thinking it's the government.

PAUL

This better be good.

POLLY

It isn't aliens, or the government. Look...this is hard for me, alright? I'm really sorry. I just hope you guys don't react too badly.

PAUL

Quit stuttering and speak!

POLLY

You  and everyone you know (except for me), and the world you live in  aren't real. It's a movie. I work on the set. I'm a production assistant, but it's not a big crew so I have to do a lot of different things. I know the director. He's a cool guy, his name's Marc. Everything you say and think, all that you are, is something he wrote.

JOHN

I don't believe you.

PAUL

Yeah, neither do I. I was fully convinced that that was the case last night, but now that you're telling me, there's no way that I believe you. Sorry.

POLLY

Well, it's true. I'm sorry, I really am. I don't blame you for not believing me, but it's important that you do. What can I do to convince you? I can tell you intimate details of things that happened to you yesterday, but not past that, because, well, you didn't exist.

PAUL

I remember breaking my arm when I was seven.

POLLY

You didn't. That never really happened. Sorry.

JOHN

Tell me something that I thought yesterday and I'll believe you.

POLLY

After you had that shouting match with YOKO, after our little chat, you went back to your desk and sat down and you thought about how everything you think has been thought before, and every thought you have just bounces around in your head forever and no-one will ever hear them. Also, you ranted to yourself for a while about how much you hate girls, and quoted Shakespeare.

JOHN is silent. He looks out the window, his expression thoughtful.

PAUL

Jeez. What about me?

POLLY

Behind that place you work there's a high wall. This morning it occurred to you that you've never seen what's past it, and you thought that there might be green fields and blue streams and yellow sunlight; that heaven could very well be located 20 feet from hell. So you walked over to it and jumped and grabbed the sharp top and pulled yourself up, but you didn't see Paradise. It was just an empty lot.

PAUL

Oh....

PAUL stands up, begins to pace around. POLLY stands also, picks up the camera, and follows PAUL.

POLLY

You have to understand that this is a film, and it'll be an ugly film if you don't change the camera angle. Don't keep it pointed at nothing, and don't leave it in one place for too long.

PAUL

Why the hell should we care about that?

POLLY

Well, you don't want your life's work to be meaningless, do you? Because this is your life's work: this is all that you are. As artists, don't you want your work to be appealing? Don't you want people to see it?

PAUL

I'm going to make some breakfast. You guys hungry?

POLLY

Yes, please.

JOHN

Good idea. I'll make coffee.

PAUL

You stay here with that thing. No magic video cameras in the kitchen. Sorry, it's a house policy.

They both move into the kitchen and begin to prepare a cooked breakfast. POLLY watches, but can't hear what they're saying. Cut in time to all three characters sitting at the table, the camera positioned how it was before. POLLY periodically gets up in the middle of conversation and moves the tripod, sometimes holding the camera in her hands and zooming in on a character's face. Occasionally, JOHN or PAUL do the same. All three smoke a very liberal amount of cigarettes.

PAUL (CONT'D)

I think I've come to terms with it.

JOHN

Really?

PAUL

No, obviously not really. But I've calmed down, some. I'm thinking about what it means, because it's interesting and I can't help it, but I don't think my brain can fully comprehend the notion that everything I'm saying, some asshole named Marc wrote down first.

JOHN

I feel the same. I can't wrap my head fully around the concept. It's like I can see God, but he's so big it's just meaningless. It feels like I had a shift in personal philosophy: before, I thought that reality was something I could count on because it's hard; now, I just think that nothing is real. I still don't really know it.

POLLY

It'll probably take some time to sink in.

JOHN

Regardless, my consciousness knows that all obligations are meaningless, and I feel liberated. The realization hasn't yet sifted into my subconscious, but my intellect is knows this thing. I don't have to worry about bullshit like people I hate, or girls, or paying for my phone bill.

POLLY

You don't worry about girls?

JOHN

No, I don't.

He moves closer to her, smiling.

PAUL

Anyway, POLLY, I don't understand your role in all of this.

POLLY

What do you mean?

PAUL

You're a production assistant on the film set that is our life? What does that mean? I can perceive you, and everything that I perceive is just the creation of the writer. He wrote you just like he wrote us.

POLLY

No, I'm not supposed to be talking to you guys. I've read the script. There's no character named "POLLY."

PAUL

I don't get it. Like JOHN said, my intellect knows that nothing is real, but that's a totally meaningless thing to say, because I don't exist. All I am is carefully indented dialogue and spare descriptions of my facial expression. All I can say, or "think," is what's written. But I can interact with you: you're real to me, and thusly you are unreal. The guy who wrote down what I'm saying right now exists in a totally separate dimension, a whole other plane of existence. There can be no communication between these two universes. If something passed from the real world, the one that you supposedly come from, into our world, it would necessarily become fiction. You are just as fictional as I.

POLLY

No. I'm from the real world. Marc, the director, sent me here to keep an eye on you guys.

PAUL

What? What in tarnation does that mean! Did you step through a magical portal or something? That makes no sense.

JOHN

The woman says she's from an alternate universe. Accept it and shut up.

POLLY's confidence has been shaken; she appears doubtful and worried.

POLLY

That's right. I'm from an...alternate universe....

PAUL

Total, total science fiction. It makes no sense. It makes nonsense, in fact.

JOHN

Let's talk about the implications of this. Nothing is real, nothing is important, so we can do anything.

PAUL

I don't know about that. We can still feel pain.

JOHN

(passionately)

Obviously, but why would we feel pain? Instead, let's feel uninhibited pleasure. Every taboo, every stigma, every thing that affects how we behave, has become meaningless. We can do whatever we want. The concept of a repercussion is meaningless. Everything is meaningless, except what we can feel now. Why experience ennui, doubt, pain, fear, when we can experience free and wild joy?

He kisses POLLY on the mouth, but she pulls away.

POLLY

Woah! Slow down, cowboy. Buy me a drink first.

JOHN

Why? I like you, you're pretty. I want to kiss you. Why shouldn't I?

POLLY

Because I don't think I'm ready to let go of all my social training. I'm still part of a world where actions have reactions, and those have meaning.

PAUL

Yeah...uh....

JOHN

Shut up, JOHN.

POLLY

I think I should go. There's something I have to do.

JOHN

I don't want you to go. I want to spend all my time with you, and seduce you.

POLLY

I'll see you guys later. Remember, people are watching you through this camera. This is your life, your magnum opus. Make it interesting.

JOHN

Oh baby will we ever.

JOHN and PAUL high-five.

EXT. atwater street - DAY

JOHN is holding the camera. He and PAUL sit on their bikes at the top of Atwater street, on top of the mountain.

PAUL

You know, I've done this before.

JOHN

So have I, but it's so much fun. Holy smokes. I'm excited. Okay. Are you ready for this?

PAUL

Yeah, I'm ready.

JOHN

Alright, help me with this thing.

They attach the camera to the basket on the front of JOHN's bike, using ropes and bunjee cables.

PAUL

It's a good thing your bike has a basket, you old lady.

JOHN

Shut up. Okay, you know the route, right?

PAUL

Yeah.

JOHN

Don't stop for anything. I'll see you at the bottom. Go, go, go!

They booth scream exuberantly and ride their bikes down the entire mountain. One solid shot, from the top to the bottom.

EXT. AMELIA'S BOOKShop - DAY

JOHN and PAUL stand in front of AMELIA's bookstore. Curtains are drawn over the windows, making it impossible to see inside.

JOHN

You have to do this, PAUL.

PAUL

I know that I do.

JOHN

It isn't a big deal. Just remember that it doesn't matter at all.

PAUL

Then what's the point? I don't really understand that part.

JOHN

What else are you going to do? Sit in fear and boredom? Kill yourself? Why not take control of the world, and do what you really want?

PAUL

I'd like to be as happy as possible, but I'm unhappy with this pressure.

JOHN

You'll be unhappy not having acted; and accordingly, your happiness will increase as a result of your actions, no matter the result.

PAUL

Yeah, whatever alright. Fine, I'm doing it. Come on.

INT. AMELIA'S BOOKSHOP - DAY

The light is dim. PAUL is in the doorway; JOHN has the camera, but is now essentially invisible. Ahead of them, at the cash register, AMELIA is bent over a printing machine, trying to make it work. She looks up as PAUL enters.

AMELIA

Hi, can you help me? I know nothing of machines.

PAUL walks over. The camera follows him, remaining handheld for the rest of the scene. When they're close, AMELIA looks briefly at JOHN holding the camera with a sort of confused smile, then never again, acting as if it and JOHN are invisible.

PAUL

Let me see. Ah, a printing machine: my specialty.

AMELIA smiles, steps back; PAUL does something and it prints several sheets of paper.

AMELIA

Thank you so much. I only needed one copy, but I think that was my fault.

PAUL

My pleasure.

AMELIA begins walking around the store, pulling books off of the shelf. PAUL follows behind her.

PAUL (CONT'D)

Excuse me, I was wondering if you could point me towards your poetry section?

AMELIA

It is right here, in front of you. Is there something I can help you find?

PAUL

That's alright, I'm just going to browse your selection of Swinburne's works.

AMELIA

(beat)

Were you the one who gave me cigarettes yesterday?

PAUL

Oh, yes, that was me.

AMELIA

Thank you very much. That was charming of you.

There is a pause. PAUL pulls down a book of poetry.

PAUL

Though thou art as fire

Fed with fuel in vain,

My delight, my desire,

Is more chaste than the rain,

More pure than the dewfall, more holy than stars are

that live without stain.

AMELIA

Very nice.

PAUL

Do you read poetry?

AMELIA

Yes, but I am no lover of Swinburne.

PAUL

Oh, sorry.

AMELIA

I am the one who should feel sorry for you. You should read a true Romantic, like Blake.

She pulls out a book of William Blake's poetry.

AMELIA (CONT'D)

Ah Sunflower, weary of time,

Who countest the steps of the sun;

Seeking after that sweet golden clime

Where the traveller's journey is done;

Where the Youth pined away with desire,

And the pale virgin shrouded in snow,

Arise from their graves, and aspire

Where my Sunflower wishes to go!

PAUL

She binds iron thorns around his head,
And pierces both his hands and feet,
And cuts his heart out of his side
To make it feel both cold & heat.
Her fingers number every nerve
Just as a miser counts his gold;
She lives upon his shrieks and cries—
And she grows young as he grows old,

Till he becomes a bleeding youth
And she becomes a virgin bright;

Then he rends up his manacles

And pins her down for his delight.

He plants himself in all her nerves

Just as a husbandman his mould,

And she becomes his dwelling-place

And garden, fruitful seventy-fold.

AMELIA

How macabre. You seem to know poetry well. What is your name?

PAUL

CHARACTER B. What's yours?

AMELIA

I am AMELIA. I must go over there; there is work to be done. Will you come with me?

PAUL

Sure. What section is this now?

AMELIA

The letter "C," in Fiction.

PAUL

(pulls out a copy of The Stranger by Albert Camus.)

Have you ever read this?

AMELIA

Yes, I was born in Algiers, and I read it there one summer day. In my youth I was a nihilist, but I came to realize that Camus is right: life is an insane game, and the complicated systems we invent make it all the more absurd. I am not one to be defeated by my own self, so for me all of life is fine things only. Things that make me happy and give me pleasure.

PAUL

I like you.

AMELIA

I like you, though you are strange and shy.

PAUL

Yesterday I learned that nothing is real.

AMELIA

What was it that convinced you?

PAUL

I saw the eyes of God. I know that He is real, and He's just some guy who thought I'd be interesting to think about.

AMELIA

What does that mean for me?

PAUL

I think you're my love interest.

AMELIA

I must go to the plays now. Shakespeare, Chekhov and Brecht.

AMELIA goes over to another section, but instead of shelving books, she begins to read from one: The Cherry Orchard, by Anton Chekhov. PAUL hesitates for a moment, then walks over to her. He leans against the shelf and watches her read.

AMELIA (CONT'D)

Leave me alone, I'm daydreaming.

PAUL

I'm sorry.

PAUL walks away; AMELIA follows him with her eyes over the book. His voice comes from off-screen.

PAUL (V.O.) (CONT'D)

But as soon as the Mariner, who was a man of infinite-resource-and-sagacity, found himself truly inside the Whale's warm, dark, inside cup-boards, he stumped and he jumped and he thumped and he bumped, and he pranced and he danced, and he banged and he clanged, and he hit and he bit, and he leaped and he creeped, and he prowled and he howled, and he hopped and he dropped, and he cried and he sighed, and he crawled and he bawled, and he stepped and he lepped, and he danced hornpipes where he shouldn't, and the Whale felt most unhappy indeed. (Have you forgotten the suspenders?)

AMELIA laughs, then goes to another section. PAUL approaches her again.

PAUL (CONT'D)

Ah, now, science fiction. That's my sort of thing.

AMELIA

I don't believe that you read this. You, who know so much poetry? Why read this drivel?

(she holds up a book with a lurid cover)

PAUL

It isn't drivel, I swear! Fantasy poetry is as rich as Romantic, and the science fiction novel has had as important an impact on society as any piece of literature. Maybe even more, in this age of technology.

AMELIA

Is there brilliant wordplay, like Nabokov, or Steinbeck, or McCarthy's? Is there human insight, as in Hemingway and Shakespeare? Or the reflection of times in all literature of the ages? What about experimentation, as in Mrs. Dalloway or Finnigans Wake?

PAUL

There is all of those things.

AMELIA

No great writer of fantasy can compare to a classic master.

PAUL

Many of the classic masters wrote in the speculative genre: Mark Twain wrote about time-travel, Cyrano de Bergerac wrote about space travel. Gulliver's Travels,  Voltaire's short story Micromégas, Frankenstein, Arthur Pym of Nantucket by Poe, 1984 -- these are all science fictional stories by "masters" of literature. And yet still the taboo is retained, as by people who think comics aren't a legitimate form of art.

AMELIA

But comics are a whole new form; genre is merely a variation of a tune, and necessarily diluted. All things written are written of the same subject: people. The setting is always secondary to the characters in a work of art, yet genre writers always get this backwards, concentrating on the lesser elements.

PAUL

Science fiction isn't always about people.

AMELIA

It's just people thinking about how people would not behave. A human writing a non-human is still affected by his humanity.

PAUL

(looks in a book of Tennyson's poetry)

Below the thunders of the upper deep,

Far, far beneath in the abysmal sea,

His ancient, dreamless, uninvaded sleep

The Kraken sleepeth: faintest sunlights flee

About his shadowy sides; above him swell

Huge sponges of millennial growth and height;

And far away into the sickly light,

From many a wondrous grot and secret cell

Unnumber'd and enormous polypi

Winnow with giant arms the slumbering green.

There hath he lain for ages, and will lie

Battening upon huge sea-worms in his sleep,

Until the latter fire shall heat the deep;

Then once by man and angels to be seen,

In roaring he shall rise and on the surface die.

AMELIA is impressed.

PAUL (CONT'D)

The day had come again, when as a child

I saw—just once—that hollow of old oaks,

Grey with a ground-mist that enfolds and chokes

The slinking shapes which madness has defiled.

It was the same—an herbage rank and wild

Clings round an altar whose carved sign invokes

That Nameless One to whom a thousand smokes

Rose, aeons gone, from unclean towers up-piled.

I saw the body spread on that dank stone,

And knew those things which feasted were not men;

I knew this strange, grey world was not my own,

But Yuggoth, past the starry voids—and then

The body shrieked at me with a dead cry,

And all too late I knew that it was I!

AMELIA

Strange....

PAUL

We are the soldiers at the edge of time

The veterans of a thousand psychic wars

We are ths soldiers at the edge of time

The victims of the savage truth

We are the soldiers at the edge of time

And we're tired of making love

AMELIA

Ugly. I do not like this. Wilde was a fantasist. I like him.

Did giant Lizards come and crouch before you on the reedy banks?

Did Gryphons with great metal flanks leap on you in your trampled couch?
Did monstrous hippopotami come sidling toward you in the mist?

Did gilt-scaled dragons writhe and twist with passion as you passed them by?

PAUL

Shakespeare was the greatest poet of all time, and he was also a fantasist.

(He recites some Shakespeare: a romantic verse from A Midsummer Night's Dream)

AMELIA

(says the next verse)

AMELIA and PAUL are drawn closer and closer together.

PAUL

(says the next verse)

They kiss briefly. AMELIA moves away.

AMELIA

I must work. You are distracting me. Will you buy anything?

PAUL

I'll buy this for you. (He takes A Dreamer's Tales, Owlswick Press edition from the shelves.)

They move to the cash register; AMELIA sells him the book and hands it to him. He gives it back to her.

PAUL (CONT'D)

This is for you.

AMELIA

I accept. I will read it today.

PAUL

When can I see you again?

AMELIA

The shop closes at seven.

PAUL

I'll see you tonight, then.

She leans over the table with the cash register, over piles of books, and kisses him on the cheek.

EXT. AMELIA'S BOOKSHOP - DAY

JOHN

Yo, PAUL! That was incredible! I am so impressed with you right now.

PAUL is standing a little bit ahead. He looks back with a huge smile on his face.

PAUL

Let's go somewhere awesome. I know a spot; it's on the canal. It'll be totally bromantic.

EXT. lachine canal (abandoned building) - LATE AFTERNOON

JOHN and PAUL sit in an open building. It looks very abandoned and is covered in graffiti. The camera is low on a tripod with both of them on either sides of the frame, sitting against the wall. A small portable chessboard lies between them, but they aren't paying much attention to it. There are beers being drunk and cigarettes smoked.

JOHN

I feel the desire to pursue my romantic interest.

PAUL

So do I. We're playing right into his hands.

JOHN

Whatever, I'm sure ours is a happy story. It better be. No, it is, I know it. How can it not be, with characters like us?

There is a long silence. Someone moves a chess piece; a figure biking on the path next to the canal stops in front of their building and starts waving its arms and hollering.

PAUL

Speaking of your love interest, I think she's pursued you. How did she find us here?

JOHN

Let's go find out!

EXT. lachine canal (BIKE PATH) - LATE AFTERNOON

PAUL is holding the camera. JOHN walks ahead of him to POLLY, who is standing next to her bike, looking extremely upset.

JOHN

What is it? What's wrong?

POLLY

I'm just like you! There's nothing special about me. I'm just another character that asshole Marc thought up; my whole life is an implanted memory! All my purpose has been stolen from me. I'm nothing, and I can never escape it.

JOHN

Calm down, it's okay. You just have to be positive about it. You can't let it get to you, because you'll go totally insane.

POLLY

Don't you get it? Nothing is real! There's no point to existing! Nothing you do can have an effect on anything; there's nothing to effect! Everything you say and do has been written down and interpreted by an actor. Your body doesn't belong to you, and your mind even less.

PAUL

God, she's right, isn't she? What the hell's the point? We are nothing, floating in a vast void of nothing. Oh, my brain, I can't take it.

JOHN

No, it can't be...it isn't true.

POLLY

Give me that!

She takes the camera from PAUL.

PAUL

Run! Run! Run! Nothing is real! All your hopes and dreams were thought up by a teenager to give your character depth! Run!

JOHN and PAUL run away. POLLY follows on her bicycle. Staggered jump cuts have them in vastly different locations; the camera moves from JOHN to PAUL, but POLLY is the one holding it the most. Eventually, they end up at AMELIA's bookstore again.

EXT. AMELIA'S BOOKSHOP - LATE AFTERNOON

AMELIA is playing hopscotch by herself. She looks up as JOHN and PAUL run up and fall to their knees in front of her.

PAUL

Help me, I can see the truth and it's driving me crazy.

JOHN

Please tell me something nice and optimistic. I can't handle this, it's too big for my soul.

AMELIA

You must be calm, boys. Where I come from, there is something that we say, but...I can not recall it now. Everything is the same as how it always was, and it will always be real so long as you choose to make it.

PAUL

I can hear them laughing at me. It drives me crazy thinking that everything I say is being edited to sound as naturalistic as possible. Am I a bad actor?

POLLY places the camera on a tripod pointing at PAUL and AMELIA. JOHN moves off-screen, and their voices can be heard murmuring in the background.

AMELIA

Don't think of it like that. Think instead of the power this knowledge gives you. Why don't you kiss me? (To JOHN) Why haven't you swept her off her feet? Why do you still hide behind these shells of repression, depending on something that isn't even real?

PAUL stands, takes AMELIA in his arms and kisses her. She moves away again.

PAUL

Why do you keep moving away?

AMELIA

I don't have your absolute faith that nothing is real. It's not so easy for me to disregard everything life has taught me.

PAUL

Bullshit! You're European. I've seen films; I know you're all a bunch of free-loving Bohemians.

AMELIA

Alas, I am not so free. I would like to be, but it is difficult to learn if you do not have faith.

PAUL

Let me teach you.

He kisses her again, and she returns the embrace. After a moment of kissing, PAUL moves over to the camera and points it at JOHN and POLLY, who are in each other's arms, whispering and smiling.

PAUL  (O.S.) (CONT'D)

Way to go, brother.

EXT. SOME WALL SOMEWHERE - DAY

AMELIA, PAUL, POLLY and JOHN stand against the wall. POLLY finishes setting up the shot and goes to stand with JOHN.

PAUL

I feel like I'm in a German film from the '70s, like Katzelmacher.

POLLY

I hope that you don't think of me as a Fassbinder character.

PAUL

I didn't mean it like that.

JOHN

(to AMELIA)

Do you know what they're talking about?

AMELIA

No, I don't watch many films.

POLLY

Well, don't watch Fassbinder. He's a woman-hater and all of his characters are ugly.

PAUL

But he makes beautiful films out of them!

POLLY

There is no beauty in his characters, though, and especially not his women. I'm not stupid: I understand that the basis for a lot of his work is subversion, but I think it's true that he was consciously trying to make his characters unappealing. You can see it in the way he directs his non-professional actors. To alienate the audience is a classic German artistic tradition. He was a brilliant man, and one of the greatest film-makers, but his cruel and inhuman characters destroy any pretense of beauty.

AMELIA

So you think it is necessary for something beautiful to have human qualities?

POLLY

Yes, actually. Things can be aesthetically pleasing, but that isn't beautiful. Buildings are beautiful because they're made by humans.

AMELIA

Is nature then not beautiful to you, only pleasing to your eyes?

POLLY

I think so. I can not find beauty in something randomly determined. There is no intention in nature, only inevitable fluke.

AMELIA

And the human form, then? It's designed by nature only to be efficient. There are no humanistic qualities in the human body.

PAUL

Disregarding tattoos and piercings and fancy hairdos.

POLLY

I hate being proven wrong.

(she kisses JOHN)

PAUL

(to AMELIA)

Would you still like me if I covered myself in tattoos?

POLLY

(to JOHN)

Come here, I want to fix the shot.

POLLY and JOHN walk forward so that their faces fill the frame, hiding PAUL and AMELIA.

AMELIA (O.S.)

(to PAUL)

Maybe. I don't know why I am attracted to you. Maybe I would find it sexy if you covered yourself in tattoos. But I doubt it.

PAUL (O.S.)

Don't worry.

AMELIA (O.S.)

I liked this part in the book you gave me. (Reads something by Lord Dunsany.)

JOHN

(to AMELIA)

My god that's depressing. Thanks a lot for ruining my fun time.

JOHN and POLLY move back into position.

AMELIA

I am very sorry. I didn't mean to make you unhappy.

JOHN

I blame PAUL, not you. I can tell you got that book from him. He's always reading that garbage. What kind of person writes as "LORD" something-or-other?

AMELIA

Lord Byron.

PAUL

Walter Lord.

JOHN

First name Walter, wise guy. Maybe you could think up a better example if you weren't too busy reading high fantasy and hard sci-fi.

PAUL

Do you have any idea how little that makes sense? Why would I read from two genres that are completely contradictory lifestyles?

JOHN

Correct me.

PAUL

I don't read hard science fiction. Not often, at least. I like speculative fiction.

POLLY

What's the difference? I don't get it.

PAUL

Hard science fiction is for people who like a bit of a story with their physics textbook. Speculative fiction is -- wait, what's going on? I don't want to talk about this. Why am I talking about this? Why am I the nerd here? You know what JOHN does? He goes online and reads poetry written by depressed teenagers.

JOHN

Quiet!

POLLY

Why?

JOHN

I don't know. I can't really explain it.

PAUL

(to AMELIA)

I hope you don't think badly of me for reading all this "drivel."

AMELIA

(to PAUL)

What do I care? There are no taboos, highbrow or low. I could read a celebrity magazine with a clear conscience. I will not, because it is boring to me, but I could if I chose to.

POLLY

(to JOHN)

Please try and explain.

JOHN

There's something about the way they write, it's so overblown and dramatic, and still totally honest. Now that I'm an adult, I'd like to study how their minds work and better understand how their minds work.

PAUL

(to AMELIA)

I like you, baby. You're good to me.

JOHN

(to POLLY)

I think I'm in love with you like a teenager.

PAUL

(to JOHN)

Don't tell her that. She'll think you're needy.

JOHN

Bother.

A jump cut in time. The light is lower, indicating that some time has passed. The four characters are now all eating ice cream. POLLY adjusts the camera so that it's on them as they sit against the wall. A long take of inaudible dialogue and giggling.

EXT. ROOFTOP SWIMMING POOL - NIGHT

The four characters are swimming in their underwear somewhere they obviously aren't meant to be, laughing and splashing and having a great time. The camera is being played with, inside the pool and out. At some point, POLLY sets it on a tripod at the end of the pool and dives back in to play. Jump cuts pass time until the four are gathered around the camera. They appear to be studying it. JOHN and PAUL simultaneously get up and move towards it to turn the power off.

EXT. SOME STREET - DAY

PAUL walks angrily down the street. He sees POLLY ahead, sitting on the curb, and starts running towards her. POLLY notices him and looks terrified. She bolts, and PAUL chases after her.

PAUL

Hey! Get back here, woman!

They run down a residential street. PAUL tackles her and pins her down, squeezing her neck with his hands. She manages to croak out a few words before dying.

POLLY

Ugh...JOHN's already...killed her...there's no...point...killing...me....

PAUL

No!

He runs off, leaving her dead body behind.

INT. AMELIA'S BOOKSHOP - DAY

PAUL bursts inside. At the far end of the store, JOHN is leaning over AMELIA's body with a gun in his hand. He has only just killed her. His back is to the door; he turns as it bangs open, and seeing who it is, leaps behind cover.

PAUL

I'll kill you!

PAUL pulls a gun from his jacket and shoots towards where JOHN. When he is out of ammo, JOHN stands, holding a new wound in his arm, and fires back. PAUL is shot several times, and stumbles backwards out the door, falling down in the street fatally wounded. Concealing his actions, he reloads his gun. JOHN comes and stands in the doorway.

JOHN

You killed her, didn't you? I don't feel bad anymore. I only wish I'd done it sooner. Now I'm going to do you, too, and you can be together where ever you end up.

He raises his gun to shoot PAUL, but PAUL shoots first. JOHN falls dead on top of him. PAUL holds him, crying and screaming at the camera.

PAUL

You bastard! Why? Why? Why are you doing this to us?

INT. location "A" (office building - JOHN'S DESK) - DAY

JOHN's desk in the same cubicle in the same office from earlier. JOHN is older now, in his 40s. He looks unhealthy with a large belly and skinny arms; he's balding, and his face looks older than it should. The camera looks at him while he appears to be working up the nerve to look back at it. When he does, his eyes are empty and bleak.

INT. house (MAIN ROOM) - DAY

JOHN and POLLY sit in armchairs around a table piled high with newspapers and magazines, reading. It is the middle of a heatwave, and they're both wearing little.

INT. house (BATHROOM) - DAY

PAUL lies in the bathtub. He has been spraying himself with cold water: his clothes stick to him and his hair drips. AMELIA sits nearby painting her toenails.

PAUL

(contemptuously)

What's that colour?

AMELIA

Turquoise.

PAUL

It looks horrible on you.

AMELIA

Why?

PAUL

Why? I don't know, you're just not a turquoise kind of person.

AMELIA

I mean why did you say that?

PAUL

I say what I think. And I think that colour looks horrible on you. But I suppose it goes with this new trend of yours, of looking like utter shit.

AMELIA

You don't need to be like this.

PAUL

What? I'm sorry? Say that again?

AMELIA

Go to hell!

AMELIA leaves the room. PAUL picks up a trumpet and begins playing it badly.

INT. house (MAIN ROOM) - DAY

AMELIA walks behind POLLY and JOHN and stands at a dresser, lighting her cigarette.

POLLY

Oh, that goddamn racket again. I can't stand it.

AMELIA

Go make him stop, then. Please.

POLLY gets up and leaves the room. AMELIA sits in her chair and looks at JOHN silently. He looks up from his newspaper, expression blank.

JOHN

What is it you want?

AMELIA

Nothing.

JOHN

Then quit bothering me; I don't like being alone with you.

INT. house (BATHROOM) - DAY

PAUL is still in the tub playing trumpet. POLLY bursts in.

POLLY

Goddamnit, stop that noise!

PAUL doesn't stop, only looks at her as he continues to play. She moves closer to take it from him.

POLLY (CONT'D)

Here!

(she snatches it from him)

PAUL grabs her arms and pulls her close, his expression concentrated. Both of them look only critically interested in what they're doing. Mouths fixed in concentrated frowns, they kiss. POLLY falls into the tub on top of PAUL.

INT. HOUSE - NIGHT

Shots of the house at night. Most of the lights are out. PAUL is lying on the kitchen counter, by an open window, listening to the radio and reading a science fiction novel. POLLY sits at a desk covered in notebooks and papers, writing dialogue on a typewriter.

INT. house (laundry room) - night

JOHN comes across AMELIA in the laundry room. She's sitting on the washing machine eating a popsicle, wearing little because of the heat. With the same critical expressions as PAUL and POLLY, they come together in a kiss.

INT. house (MAIN ROOM) - NIGHT

The four of them sit in armchairs around a rotating fan, looking sullen.

PAUL

The resentment in this room is killing me.

POLLY

Maybe if you weren't such an asshole with that trumpet.

AMELIA

And if you weren't so unkind.

JOHN

Ha!

AMELIA

Both of you.

PAUL

Were you unkind to my girl? Was he, AMELIA?

JOHN

You don't know half of what I've been to your woman.

AMELIA

(to JOHN)

Shut up.

PAUL

What does that mean?

POLLY

What does that mean?

JOHN

Nevermind.

PAUL

What are you talking about?

JOHN

Nothing.

There is a long pause before PAUL blurts out:

PAUL

I fucked POLLY.

POLLY

Oh, Jesus Christ.

JOHN

What! Well, in case you hadn't caught on, I fucked AMELIA, you bastard.

PAUL

Goddamnit!

(to AMELIA)

What is wrong with you? Why did you do that?

AMELIA

How can you ask me why? You're so cruel to me; you said you would always love me, but now you hate me. You had sex with her!

PAUL

I only hate you because you despise me.

JOHN

(to POLLY)

And you! I didn't expect this from you!

POLLY

Me? Why am I the villain? You did it with her, too, let's not forget about that.

JOHN

Goddamnit, I can't stand you. I can't stand any of you. I only fucked her because I was bored and angry. I can't take this anymore, I'm going crazy.

PAUL

Why is this happening? It can't always have been like this, but I can't remember what it was like before.

JOHN

It's him.

Both characters look into the camera for a moment, their expressions fearful.

PAUL

(beat)

Well, fuck him. I hate him.

JOHN

This shouldn't be happening to us. It's all his fault! We don't deserve this bullshit.

Together, they rise and advance towards the camera.

PAUL

Are you watching this, you asshole? Are you having a good time?

JOHN

I bet you liked writing this part, you masochistic, self-doubting shit. You're taking pleasure in our misery, aren't you?

PAUL

What kind of scene is this, anyway? It's so contrived! What is it supposed to be, a play? Why are you doing this to us?

JOHN grabs the camera and begins to shake it.

JOHN

What is your thesis?

PAUL

How do you justify your actions?

JOHN

I hate you!

PAUL

Leave us the hell alone!

INT. A LONG FLIGHT OF STAIRS - DAY

AMELIA lies in a broken heap at the bottom of a long flight of wooden stairs. A pool of blood is forming, only slightly visible. She lies face up, and is very late in her pregnancy. It's obvious from her pose and from the length of the stairs that she is dead. PAUL stands at the top, looking down at her, unable to react.

I/E. A CAR - DAY

POLLY drives while AMELIA reclines in the passenger seat, looking sexy and cool.

POLLY

Do you have the guns?

AMELIA

I have them.

POLLY

Good. Sorry. I'm excited.

AMELIA

I'm excited too.

POLLY

It'll be nice to have some money again.

AMELIA

(beat)

Are you afraid?

POLLY

No way! We've done this a hundred times, it must be. There's no reason for anything to go wrong, right?

AMELIA

Right you are.

They pull up in front of a movie theatre. AMELIA hands POLLY a gun that she hides in her jacket.

POLLY

How long?

AMELIA

You tell me.

POLLY

About a half an hour.

CUT-TO:

Them looking bored.

CUT-TO:

The middle of a conversation.

AMELIA

It is not weak of me to admit that I miss him, and to admit that I hate the director for writing this.

POLLY

But you're playing right into his hands, don't you see?

AMELIA

He created me, and if he created me to hate him, then that is his own doing, and I do not understand. It must be what he wants.

POLLY

I don't get it, either, and I read the script. I think he's just a bad writer. Oh, it's time, let's go.

They get out of the car and walk into the movie theatre.

INT. MOVIE THEATRE (lobby) - DAY

The lobby is empty, the last ticket-buyers disappearing around a corner. There is only one person in the box office, whom POLLY and AMELIA approach.

AMELIA

It is my worst nightmare, I think, that God is only a bad writer.

POLLY

(giggles)

They reach the booth. AMELIA pulls out a gun and points it at the attendant.

AMELIA

Empty the register, bitch, and make it quick. I woke up late and I got a lotta shit to do today.

POLLY

Jeez! Wow!

ATTENDANT

Please don't hurt me!

AMELIA

Then hop to it!

A person comes around the corner, sees what's going on, and disappears again. POLLY notices him.

POLLY

Better pick up the pace, Miss Underwood.

AMELIA

Is it that bitch Una?

POLLY

They're on to us.

AMELIA

(to ATTENDANT)

If we get caught here, I'm going to murder you, understand?

ATTENDANT

Here! That's all of it! That's everything we made today! Do you have any idea what that money means to this business? This is the off season! We're going to have to shut down. Thanks for ruining independent cinema, asshole!

AMELIA

Oh, shut it. Let's go, babycakes.

AMELIA and POLLY run outside, both with their guns out.

EXT. movie theatre (THE STREET OUTSIDE) - DAY

A police car is turning the corner towards them.

AMELIA

This way!

They run into an alley.

EXT. Alley - DAY

They alley is a dead end. The police car drives slowly after them, closing off the exit. The reflective windshield makes it impossible to see inside the car.

POLLY

Oh, bother. That was a total waste of time. I hate symbolism.

AMELIA

This is embarrassing.

The car door opens and a voice calls out.

POLICEMAN (O.S.)

Drop your weapons!

POLLY

You know, this isn't even really our fault? We wouldn't be in this mess if it weren't for those boys.

AMELIA

Oh, those boys. And him too. It's all his fault.

POLLY

Who, God?

AMELIA

Yes. The one, true God.

POLLY

Goddamn his name, and goddamn our eternal lot!

EXT. A PARK BENCH - DAY

POLLY is sitting on a park bench in Autumn, watching children play. JOHN sits next to her, kisses her on the cheek; she doesn't respond.

JOHN

I found this wonderful painting in that antique shop. I think I'm going to get it for your birthday, I just know you'd love it.

(beat)

Honey, are you alright?

POLLY

I'm fine.

JOHN

Tired?

POLLY

You could say that.

JOHN

What do you mean?

POLLY

I want to call it off.

JOHN

Call what off? Dinner?

POLLY

The wedding, the house, the kids. All of it. Our life together. I'm calling it all off.

JOHN

What? What are you talking about?

POLLY

I don't want to marry you, JOHN.

JOHN

What the heck has gotten into you? I leave you for fifteen minutes to say hi to PAUL and you're calling the wedding off?

POLLY

I don't love you anymore, JOHN.

She stands and begins to walk through the park. JOHN follows her.

JOHN

What do you mean you don't love me anymore? Is that even possible, for someone to fall out of love in the same amount of time as the second movement of Beethoven's 9th.

POLLY

It's true.

JOHN

I don't understand what's going on. Tell me what's the matter, baby. Is it something I've done? You've got to tell me.

POLLY

Yes, it's something you've done. It's everything you've ever done.

JOHN

This just doesn't make any sense! Fifteen minutes ago you loved me. You know how I know? Because you told me so, in between kisses and telling me that you'd miss me and think about me the whole fifteen minutes I was away. Now tell me what happened, because I still love you and I'll never leave you alone.

POLLY

Nothing happened, I just don't love you anymore, and I'm calling it off. I want to be away from you. Can't you understand that, or are you such a narcissist?

JOHN

Don't tell me what I am, baby; don't try and turn this back around on me. It's you that has the major malfunction here, and I need to understand why. It doesn't make any sense. What are you, a masochist? You bring yourself as close as possible to happiness, then tear yourself away from it and savour all that heartbreak? Or are you afraid of commitment, and you were lying to me all those times you said you wanted to be with me forever? Baby I just don't buy it.

POLLY

Well you better, because it's true.

JOHN

It makes absolutely no sense...in fact, it's a complete non-sequitur! There's no logical explanation.... and when there's no logical explanation, there's only one explanation at all.

JOHN begins to spin around, looking for the camera and attempting to address me directly.

JOHN (CONT'D)

It's you, isn't it?

POLLY

What are you talking about? Never mind, I don't want to know.

JOHN

POLLY, don't you see what's going on? It's all him! He's trying to ruin my life or something! Come back! You used to love me! We can do it again. Please!

POLLY

You're so narcissistic that you would blame this on God? You can't conceive of anyone in their right mind just getting sick of you. Get away from me, creep. I never want to see you again.

POLLY speeds up, leaving JOHN behind.

JOHN

No! No, you can't do this to me, you bastard! What did I do? I hate you! Good job, you bastard, I hate you! Is that what you wanted?

(beat)

It's got to be you...it's got to...she used to love me. It's got to be....

INT. A shed - NIGHT

A dirty, wooden room with scary hooks and things on the wall. Ominous sounds like the sharpening of metal and the whack of meat comes from off-screen. JOHN and PAUL sit on chairs, bound back-to-back, with sacks covering their faces. They are both babbling in terror at the same time.

CHARA

I'm sorry, so sorry, sir, we promise not to tell anyone about what we saw. I don't even understand what I saw, to be honest, but either way, it's all CHARB's fault. He's the one that dragged me out here tonight.

CHARB

I am so sorry. There must be some way I can make it up to you, there's got to be. I swear it wasn't my idea, it was CHARA's. He wanted to go out tonight. I just wanted to stay at home and watch a nice film or something, and mind my own business. I swear I didn't mean any harm. I'm so sorry.

Together, all at once, they stop speaking.

CHARA

She still loves me. I know it. I know it.

CHARB

Oh, god. Not yet. She's fine. There's no baby yet. Not yet.

After a moment of silence, they begin to speak in their old, self-assured manner.

PAUL

Do you understand at all, what the hell just happened?

JOHN

I have no idea. It's really frustrating to me.

PAUL

I have all these memories, suddenly, but they're completely disjointed, in no sort of chronological order. And also, they just don't make any sense!

JOHN

Me too. In fact, I'm pretty sure I remember you cheap-shotting me to death.

PAUL

Okay well that didn't happen.

JOHN

I just don't understand what the point of it all is. I have this whole life that makes total sense. I got older, learned things. I never died or anything crazy like that. And now, all of a sudden, all this bullshit is happening to me. I remember working at the same company for twenty years. I'm only 20 now. What the hell? How does that work?

PAUL

I think what it means is that this isn't your standard biopic, or rom com, or whatever. It isn't a genre flick, that's for sure.

JOHN

No kidding. What tipped you off? Was it when we became aware of God and started breaking the fourth wall?

PAUL

Honestly, I kind of thought we had split off into another dimension, where we still lived out the lives of our script, but as self-aware characters. I thought we had achieved some meta-state where we are separate from the script, and we're actually making our own decisions.

JOHN

Bro, we did not become aware of God just by being really awesome guys. It was written, and so it must be.

PAUL

I know, I know. Which brings us back to the original question: what in blue blazes is going on? We're living through all these absurd, really goddamn depressing scenarios that make no sense, where the only prevalent theme seems to be 'horrible things happening to us.' What's the point?

JOHN

There has to be a macrocosm. He has to be saying something.

PAUL

Who's he saying it to?

JOHN

The audience?

PAUL

Holy smokes! I forgot about that! What the fuck, then! It's all their fault. We're going through all this complete bullshit because some stupid asshole thinks he has something to say to a bunch of other stupid assholes! They exist on a higher plane; why should I care?

JOHN

By Jim, you're right! Those bastards. It's all of their fault.

PAUL

They're watching us. I feel all self-conscious and gross.

JOHN

They're watching us? You're a bunch of morons, you know that? Have you been watching this bullshit? We shot each other to death. What the hell was that? It's your fault is what it is. If you were enlightened beings like everyone else that lives in another dimension, then there would be no purpose for content-based art! But because you're all stupid, the director of this film that you are watching right now (who, by the way, also thinks you're stupid, and hates you; he told me); that dick feels the need to tell you something.

PAUL

Yeah, tell you something through our eternal misery.

JOHN

I hope you selfish pricks can figure it out, because I sure as hell can't.

PAUL

It has to be about us and him. Us, as mortals, and him, as God. Our sufferance now is just an example of the power he has over us. He's flexing his muscles.

JOHN

You can think that if you want, but I prefer to imagine that my creator is not writing purely to bully his creations.

PAUL

All writers are bullies. It's called conflict, and it's usually resolved around the third act.

JOHN

Is that it, then? Is he just saying that he thinks that if God is real, He is a sadist?

PAUL

Or he's saying that he's a sadist, and not necessarily only in his role as God in this film.

JOHN

I don't want to think that we're having such a hard time figuring it out because he himself doesn't know.

PAUL

(beat)

We are parrots, repeating the lines taught to us. Our wings are awareness, and they flutter, yearning to feel the warm drafts of sunny skies. But all we do is bash our heads against the cage.

JOHN

The cage being reality.

PAUL

Oh, yeah.

A scary SERIAL KILLER rushes in, screaming inhumanly. He grabs PAUL and pulls the sack from his head.

PAUL (CONT'D)

What's going on? Oh, Jesus Christ, I forgot all about that.

(screams)

SERIAL KILLER stuffs a gag in PAUL's mouth and replaces the hood. He does the same to JOHN.

JOHN

(screams)

EXT. RIVERSIDE (STREETS) - AFTERNOON

JOHN and PAUL walk through cobblestone streets. The buildings are all made out of brick. Everything is wet with rain.

JOHN

So the girls are inexplicably, meeting us on the other side of this river?

PAUL

That's right.

JOHN

And the only way to get there is by rowboat.

PAUL

Looks like.

JOHN

Ugh, I hate symbolism. It's totally inconveniencing the shit out of me right now.

PAUL

They brought lunch. Champagne and caviar, AMELIA said.

JOHN

I've never tried caviar, but I know that it's just fish eggs. I hope there's real food. I'm hungry.

EXT. RIVERSIDE - DAY

JOHN and PAUL climb awkwardly into a small rowboat on shore and start paddling out.

EXT. the MIDDLE OF THE RIVER - DAY

It's nice and sunny, and the water is calm. JOHN is rowing.

PAUL

You know, it's not really the audience's fault. I feel bad for getting so mad at them before.

JOHN

I thought we decided that it's purely the audience's fault.

PAUL

But it isn't really, it's just his fault. He's doing this for them, but it's not like they asked for a lesson. The probable outcome is that no one will end up seeing this, and all our misery will have been for nought.

JOHN

With characters as hilarious and cool as us, and girls as pretty as ours, there's no way this film can bomb too badly.

PAUL

If that's true, I don't want the people watching the entire span of our existence to feel like I hate them. I don't hate them. I hope they can learn something from all this.

JOHN

I guess you're right.

(to AUDIENCE)

If there's anyone there, if I'm not just talking to an empty room this film is playing in, I'm sorry for yelling at you earlier, and calling you names. It's not your fault.

PAUL

Why would it be playing in an empty room?

JOHN

(laughs)

I don't know, stranger things have happened.

PAUL

I know whose fault it is.

JOHN

Yeah, so do I. It's that bastard Marc.

PAUL

(beat)

I think I've forgiven him a bit, also.

JOHN

Seriously? He killed your wife and unborn child.

PAUL

I know, and that was evil, but I feel really Zen about it all. I don't know why, really, but if I exist solely to amuse, and as the vessel for some message, well then I hope I did a good job. I hope his mission is accomplished.

JOHN

You know, I'm feeling really calm, too. I remember being super mad, though. He killed me, that Marc guy, in a lot more ways than just having you shoot me to death. But such is my lot, right. Such is my function.

PAUL

I think because it's the last scene, he wants to go out on a nice, happy note, to try and get the crowd to leave with good feelings.

JOHN

Last scene, huh? Wow, that's deep. What happens to us?

PAUL

I guess we...cease to exist? I wonder what that'll be like.

JOHN

But every time someone watches this film, we have to live through it all over again.

PAUL

And I get to bang POLLY over and over....

JOHN

Yeah, and I get to shoot you to death.

PAUL

You died first. Anyway, it's not like we'll realize it. And how many times do you think this film's actually going to be watched? Also, that makes us immortal.

JOHN

Sick. We get to live forever in the minds of all who perceive us. Kind of like anyone to ever live, I guess.

PAUL

But we'll also live forever as ink on paper, and film stock, right?

JOHN

Hopefully they don't burn all the copies.

There is a long period of silence. The boat passes into a cloudy area, and PAUL takes over rowing. They pass back into sunlight. POLLY and AMELIA can be seen sitting on the green bank ahead, waving.

JOHN (CONT'D)

Well, this is it. I feel really excited. And I'm nervous, too.

PAUL

About the caviar?

JOHN

No, you dolt. That was horrible. For the end. I can feel it coming now, like a sneeze.

PAUL

Or an orgasm. Hey! Think of all the people who might, conceivably, watch this.

JOHN

What, like the Montreal independent film community?

PAUL

Also, Woody Allen.

JOHN

Holy shit! Mr. Allen, if you're watching this, hello, I love you. Will you read my script? Please? It's about a superhero. I think you'd be perfect for it.

PAUL

Michael Moorcock might watch this! I was reading some of his poetry to AMELIA. Mr. Moorcock, I just want you to know that you are the single most important man to....

JOHN

Yeah, okay, whatever.

They start waving and smiling.

JOHN (CONT'D)

Hi mom!

PAUL

Hello!

We see them row the boat to shore and sit down with the girls around a picnic blanket.