Scene 4.13 - Buying Time
EST: INT. Orb of Doom, Isle of Dread - Day
(SILICA is bent-over DIABLO'S lap, as if she's been spanking her -- but only to those who would see it that way. SILICA is still skinless and lifeless and DIABLO is installing ancient hardware and software and is patiently waiting for the task bars on a nearby device wired to SILICA’S head to finally finish so she may finally activate her. The display reads 'CYBERTRONIC INSTITUTE FOR THE DEF - 2/29/1996, Alexandria, Inc.' The hourglass and taskbar reads 17 more minutes remaining, then 5 minutes remaining. Note that DIABLO always looks impeccably fine, even with a grease-smudge on her cheekbone, and sweat on her brow and clad in tight, mechanic’s overalls. She’s using a large socket ratchet with a long extension and is giving the deep part of the robot’s mechanical anus plenty of torque, making DIABLO moan and grunt and making any observer correlate the drama with an act that needs no symbolism or misrepresentation. DIABLO has a loose lock of hair dangling across her face, which, after blowing-on it several times to no avail, she finally flicks it away over her head. She appears quite sexy, considering she’s about to metaphorically blow her stack. DIABLO glances to a large, colorful monitor featuring a moving collage that acts as a custom wallpaper and screensaver, which features a myriad of places, things, good times and especially, her robot friends. A large taskbar with an artifact-ful, Gothic font is centered in a coffin-shaped black box. [A photoshopped black, late 20th-Century Coffin Manufactured in Evansville, Indiana, as seen from the long side.] The taskbar reads 4 minutes remaining. DIABLO smiles and raises her eyebrows, inhales, two beats, then suddenly the taskbar reads 20 minutes remaining. DIABLO finally loses her cool. The ladies are in sexy, summer battle fatigues, all nearly identical, school-girlish, yet camouflaged to shades of their respective colors. The rank insignia is jewel-encrusted, of course. Their fingernails are also in varying shades. It’s as if a beauty pageant decided to go to war.)
DIABLO
Aaaargh! (Stops trying to tighten the titanium nut beyond its maximum torque.) It's like making fire with sticks! (Throws down ratchet, it clangs and the socket frees and bounces across the floor. Both arms crooked, palms upward; to the heavens:) This is user-friendly?
GOLDIE
Professor, the destructobots have not responded to repeated hails and have nearly left the island's sensor range, and ... well, I think they’re heading toward Antarctica to build a snowman.
DIABLO
Drats! It smells of Kaptain Kool and his grotesque groupies! I won't let him stop me!
(She beats a fist upon SILICA’S glutes and gracefully removes the ratchet extension.)
RUBY
Sensors detect seven humans and a robotic dog storming the beach, mam.
DIABLO
Double-drats! (Chucks the extension. Cling-cling-clink-ee-kink! Beats again, as before.) I need more time! Slotbots, in file, report!
(RUBY salutes.)
RUBY
First squad, Sergeant Ruby reporting, mam. First squad, sound-off!
AMBER
Corporal Amber reporting, mam.
JADE
Private First Class Jade reporting, mam.
PEARL
Private Pearl reporting, mam.
OPAL
Private Opal reporting, mam.
GOLDIE
Private Goldie reporting, mam.
COPPER
Private Copper reporting, mam.
RUBY
First Squad, First Platoon, First Company, First Battalion, First Brigade, First Division, First Army of The United Republic of Diablo all present and accounted for, mam!
(DIABLO puts SILICA aside gently, comes to attention, returns salute, RUBY drops salute. The slotbots remain at attention.)
DIABLO
(Pacing along rank-) Take the secret passageway, go down to the volcano's entrance, and stop any and all intruders! The only hard-and-fast rule is that there is no hard-and-fast rule. Buy me some time! I need a few more minutes!
(She reaches SECRET PROJECT EQUIPMENT and SILICA -- starts re-routing the patch panel, pushes a few unmarked buttons turns a dial or two and jury-rigs a few short-cuts.)
ALL REPORTING
Yes, mam.
DIABLO
Dismissed!
(RUBY’S eyes flicker, the robots’ eyes flicker back, then all robots execute a proper left-face and march out in concert; in a manner that would put any color guard to shame.)
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