Scene 6.10 - Afterglow
INT./EXT. Savage Gardens, Internexus
(VERNE is in his boxers, curled-up in a little ball, napping in the gazebo. RAMONA is busy, transcribing VERNE’S monstrous screenplay into a palatable treatment that a director could work with in some tangible capacity. The matchbook is open, and it’s obvious RAMONA has rifled through VERNE’S trousers to get the screenplay matchbook. She’s figured a way to return the space that VERNE borrowed earlier back into the matchbook; for now the screenplay’s pages litter the small rise of green grass about her. RAMONA is in her dress, sans a corset. She has wild and unkept hair, still tussled from her earlier physical exertion. The paper and pen she uses to transcribe the work comes from an upturned and spilled-out carpet-bag. VERNE stirs, stretches and yawns and moans with a post-coital revelation of complete, physical satisfaction.)
VERNE
That was wonderful. How long have I been asleep?
RAMONA
A little while. Hey can we get back to that Phantom Zone? I really need to get my purse.
VERNE
It’s the Phantom World. We can’t get back; not right away, anyway; not until we reach Zeta.
RAMONA
Zeta?
VERNE
Yeah, it’s the planet that’s the source of all consciousness in The Universe. We’ll directly-go to First Orbit and talk to the Titans.
RAMONA
The Titans? What Titans? What d’ya mean?
VERNE
The Supreme Council. People like us, only with better imaginations. They’re the current rulers of The Cosmos. (Stretches, finds his pants and starts rounding up his clothes.) Ahh, I feel like I’ve slept for weeks. That was the most-incredible experience I’ve ever had in my life.
RAMONA
I’m glad you liked it -- so did I. Very much.
VERNE
(Puts a foot into a pant-leg:) You did?
RAMONA
You kidding? I can’t even stand up. You were fantastic.
VERNE
I aim to please.
RAMONA
You’re very attentive, and boy! You sure know your way around a woman’s body.
VERNE
I’m a physician; I know every bone, muscle and organ in your body and a few spots you ladies say don’t really exist. Plus, I’ve had a lot of practice with the holo-ho’s.
RAMONA
I’ll say. My heart goes out to those holograms.
VERNE
Wanna do it again? I know some other ways we can do...
RAMONA
Easy, Cowboy. I might need a good night’s sleep before I can take a second round of that.
VERNE
So this wasn’t just a one-time thing? We can do it again later?
RAMONA
As long as my legs hold out.
VERNE
(Dressing himself:) It's a deal. Hey, what are you doing over there?
RAMONA
Fixing your story.
VERNE
Eh? What’s wrong with my story?
RAMONA
Plenty. It needs a complete re-write.
VERNE
It’s a masterpiece!
RAMONA
It’s mental masturbation.
VERNE
(Inward breath:) Hwa! You said the word!
RAMONA
What word?
VERNE
(His eyes unconsciously dart left and right before leaning-in:) Masturbation.
RAMONA
What’s wrong with masturbation?
VERNE
What's wrong wi-? It’s our greatest taboo -- there’s really no privacy in the future -- except sometimes in space. Sometimes. We don’t even really talk about it. I mean, after Hand Solo and his two clones starred-in Me, Myself And I in 5959, there was plenty of jokes made, but in modern times, we hardly ever do it; especially on camera.
RAMONA
Man, everybody under the sun’s gotta give themselves a number every now and then -- even babies do it. Man, first you tell me that you’re cherry, now you’re saying you’ve never masturbated?
VERNE
I’ve- managed to find a place or two.
RAMONA
Oh yeah, that time-closet thing-
VERNE
Oh no, never there, but-
RAMONA
Get over it; it ain’t perverted, it’s natural. Cut yourself a break.
VERNE
I don’t know, times change. I was double-parked over a black hole for many, many... centuries; I knew things were bound to be different by the time I got back to Earth. It’s different every time I go back -- no matter how long I'm gone. Or not gone. Einstein-Schmeinstein, why does everyone have to point it out? -- Lessee... there was a time when most everyone was gay, another time when everyone wanted war, another time when everyone wanted peace, a time when you were being spit-on for wearing a uniform and a time when you couldn’t cross the street carrying a duffel bag without some old lady giving you a hug and a Boy Scout asking about the Junior Reserve Officer Training Corps. Truly, the only constant is change, and the more things change, the more they stay the same. The more-hip-tribes of 9969 consider me to be a “straight-edge-oblique outsider-dude” -- not that I really care what Terran Hipsters think of me, anyway -- I never really fit in while on Earth. People’s tastes differ over time; mine are pretty set-in-stone. Luckily, they’re always making at least a few solid movies that can appeal to everyone.
RAMONA
Hey, speaking of things that appeal to everyone, where’s the john in this place?
VERNE
Uh, you’re looking at it. Find the nearest tree. It all ends up gone anyway.
(RAMONA callously rips-off another page with purpose; carelessly tosses it into the stream; grabs her bag, finds some sanitary napkins, and subsequently-proceeds to rip the cloth from the corset’s lace, removing its bones --a towel, of sorts. Moving things aside, she tosses a few more pages of VERNE’S screenplay into the shallow brook. VERNE suddenly-realizes there is a long line of water-soaked notes littering the banks of the lazily-flowing stream; dotting the water’s shore with soggy, white dots stretching to the horizon. He starts for the stream to affect a rescue, but the realization of the futility of such an action checks him before he moves an inch.)
VERNE
Mona! But it’s the truth!
RAMONA
Truth, huh? (Measures the amount of cloth, goes to the cloth-bag again. Finds a small, gardener’s entrenching tool in the purse, shrugs, and decides to take it with her. She puts her hand on her hip, pokes an arm under the straps of the hand-bag and gestures with the fist holding the mini-shovel:) So, lemme get this right: You rescued the Talking Alluvian Blade Soultrapper from the Pit of Eternal Fire and used it to kill the War-Mancer King Of The Underverse in hand-to-hand combat, thus earning you the right to eternally-rule from the Immortal Throne of Valtarr with modified eyes that can see through anything; even in the dark-
VERNE
But-
RAMONA (Cont’d)
(Raises voice a little:) Furthermore ensuring you would forever rule all planes and dimensions until you decide to kill yourself. What kind of load is that?
VERNE
Well, it’s part speculation based on facts and a little creative-license thrown in. Nobody knows the future, so it could happen...
RAMONA
(Goes to a nearby tree and starts digging behind it. The hole is unseen, on the far side of the wide tree:) It’s pretty deep...
VERNE
(Both hands before him, reading a soggy page, stuck to three other pages:) Completely factual, numbers don’t lie. The technical aspects were perfectly exact.
RAMONA
(A few more scoops to go:) If you want to write science-fiction, it’s best not to try to encompass The Whole Universe in one mouthful. Spoon-feed us.
VERNE
It isn’t science-fiction. (Facing away, out of courtesy, drops page and puts his hands in front of him; as if reading an imaginary billboard:) It’s a saga; a drama of an epic preportion.
RAMONA
Yeah, right. It’s science-fiction. There’s space-ships and stuff.
VERNE
It might be science-fiction to you, cave-woman. Present-day, that’s the way things are.
RAMONA
(Leaning far-forward, holding a low bough, squatting. The tree obscures the action. A small, strained grunt:) So this is a movie for people in the future, right?
VERNE
Yes. The far future. Everybody in your time is long gone. Consumed by Anthromycis Genoplexia.
RAMONA
Oh yeah, about that. You mention this weird, mutating, Nazi disease that was rediscovered before this weird black-hole thing you mention like at least a thousand times and yet nobody ever gets to see the black-hole, or even a Nazi. What’s that all about? You think anybody is really gonna consider that important without telling any more about it?
VERNE
You're right! Of course! (Starts pacing, getting worked-up, a second wind, if you will.) No one really knows how the disease was introduced, or if the disease encountered on The Roanoke was really A-G, even though the symptoms were nearly the same, so I went along and tied it in with the meteor theory like everybody else and ain't covering any new ground there. But Dark Star 99-66-99? I got plenty to say about that. (Not one word gets inflection over another, almost-delivered monotone, as if the scene had already played-out in his mind a hundred times before:) Once and for all, I gotta set the record straight on what really happened on The Roanoke and make those Zetan penny-pinchers at Hollow City Studios wish they would have consulted me for their stupid movie -- ships' logs only go so far... I’m sure the real story behind how the red room was created is exactly what the people want to see, and maybe one day they’re gonna thank me at the box-office.
RAMONA
(Patting the top of the buried mound, and over VERNE’S line, crosses to the shallow river and washes her hands and face and she tidies her hair. She dries with the largest-and-only-remaining remnant of her corset.) Box-office? You mean you still have theatres in the future? Can't you stream or use satellites or something? Why theatres?
VERNE
It's the best way to watch! Land sakes! I was born way back in the 70th Century and even then movie theatres were all the rage. Well, some of us read books once in a while out of novelty, but by the time I got out-of the black hole and back to Earth, box-office revenues were at an all-time high and all the books were all digital -- selling my hard-bound library was the only way I could keep-up with the inflation and all the penalties for all those unfiled tax returns. And so many more cameras! Cameras are everywhere, you can’t escape them. Believe me, sometimes it’s a crime just to be alive in the future. Watching movies: It’s the only activity that people want to do in groups anymore.
RAMONA
(Crosses into the stream to wash her legs and feet and such. She squats a little, hikes up her dress a little. She sees VERNE’S interest, unsure of what she is doing, she back-hand gestures for him to turn around:) Whatcha trying to say, man?
MS: VERNE
VERNE
(He turns away, out of politeness:) In the future, every decision is usually paramount, so to select the best decision-makers, we have to pick the ones who can see the most possibilities, the most workable and humane options. The only way to disqualify yourself from office is to apply for public service. In our time, it’s more important to be someone, than to merely resign to a government position. (Over-enunciates democracy, as if the notion is a new concept to RAMONA, or the world, for that matter:) America in the future isn’t some old-boy system that favors only the rich; in the future, we have a dee-mock-rah-see that favors everyone... Our human leaders are elected to office based on principles and ethics, and their intelligence and their imagination, not based on who can tell the biggest lie to the camera like it is in your time.
(She washes her hands again and dries with the last of the corset. He turns and passes a joint that came from nowhere; she’s impressed. He kisses her. She kisses him back and smiles at him.)
RAMONA
I like playing tennis.
VERNE
Me too. (Smiles, puts his hands on her hips, his mind back to the present topic:) See, in our time, politicians are never installed into an office based on how much they could pay for endorsements or because of their ties to the Federal Reserve; it’s not at all like it is in your time. (Did RAMONA betray a Nemo look? He holds her, massages her latissimus dorsi with his thumbs, moves closer, cuddling a little; she doesn’t mind at all.) Any one person in the future who has direct access to the Zetan terrain could theoretically destroy The Universe with a bad thought, so we ensure the people who create our realities and establish orbits are the... creative types; the more optimistic of the bunch -- although they sure got issues, too.
(They both sit, an arm around each other.)
RAMONA
I’m think I’m lost with a dowsing-rod for a compass. (Passes the joint.) The concept’s really strange; your brand of democracy just wouldn’t work in the Twenty-First Century. I mean, it might work for a society of sexually-repressed future freaks of your time, but it couldn’t work for us. (Gets the joint, puffs.) If we let our movie producers run the world, it would be hellish. (Puffs.) It would be Freddie meets Jason meets The Argonauts meets Kung Fu Armadillo meets Alien Cop meets The Dog Whisperer Meets Captain Kangaroo. I couldn’t possibly be optimistic in a world like that.
VERNE
Wow; you talk quick, just like a Zetan does. Funny.
RAMONA
(Passes the joint:) Are you trying to insult me?
VERNE
No, it’s just how uncanny it is when people from eons apart sound so much alike.
RAMONA
I think there’s a serious communications barrier between us.
VERNE
I’m optimistic.
(VERNE, smiling, feeling love, hits the joint. A moment of oneness with himself. Elsewhere, THE BARON feels it, too.)
RAMONA
Well, no one else is. Am- Are we stuck here?
VERNE
Not really. I’ve found the laws of The Universe favor those who give a darn, even if they’re rebels without a clue. Devotion to science and the fantastic opens doors for us, helps us solve the breeding-problem a little easier.
RAMONA
Breeding-problem? (Looks down unconsciously:) What breeding-problem?
VERNE
I don’t think I should go into those things with you; you wouldn’t understand.
RAMONA
Oh yeah? (Leans away, arm no longer around him:) Try me.
VERNE
The Pan-Galactic Breeding Council has a limited number of possible genetic combinations of all known samples of complete, human D-N-A that are immune to Anthr- well, only sixty-nine types of carriers and no known vaccination that seems to work without awful side-effects; it’s hopeless. The world is sterile. It pre-exists my return to Earth, but well, I'm working on that paradox -- where did it really come from? The results were that only sixty-nine types of personas are able to be cloned with only a one-in-one-thousand chance for actual conception among those, not-to-mention the sterility of their children; we're stinkin' mules!
RAMONA
Really? That's strange.
VERNE
It's all in our heads, though, cuz once-upon-a-time we evolved on our own to our true selves and it ain't all peas and crackers when we die so we try to forget about that and live instead. Total escapism; it's why we watch movies to stimulate our imaginations. That’s why it’s all done in tanks; and that’s even just for show since quantum-application patched that paradox in 9909... In the future, without our imaginations, without our folly, there’s no such thing as children, much less other people, no one cares to love; we only know that there is really only us. Understand now?
RAMONA
(Distant-yet-introspective:) No children?
VERNE
I've never met a child in the 100th Century that wasn't really someone else's imagination getting the best of them. Everybody’s tried cloning and in-vitro fertilization and even once in a hundred years when nature actually defies the certainties of science and takes, conceives, whatever it is, the product inevitably fails. Conceived kids never seem to survive more than a few cell divisions at best, yet we live on and never seem to age or look any different than we truly perceive ourselves to be in this grand drama. Most of Earth’s population in the 100th Century is phantasmic as a result. The kids we see are all holograms; it makes it easier for some to cope... That’s why movies are so appealing. Most of the time, they’re made by real people who are going through the same real crap that we are.
RAMONA
So people in the future like science-fiction movies, huh?
VERNE
Only if you call space-ships, conciousness-altering drugs, phantasmic clones and inter-galactic war to be science-fiction, sure. There’s nothing fiction about it.
RAMONA
Maybe we can... borrow from something... that works. You know, like, inspiration. You got copyright laws in the future? Do your people know about plagiarism?
VERNE
Can you say Andy Warhol? If I’ve heard about it, it’s probably protected.
RAMONA
Ever see Star Wars?
VERNE
Ensign Asimov is the Twentieth-Century fanatic. You should be asking him, but yeah, I know it; the movie with the Teddy-Bear aliens. Preposterous.
RAMONA
What about Star Trek?
VERNE
Don’t go there. (Uncomfortable pause.) Let’s just say it’s known to us.
RAMONA
How about Star Search?
VERNE
Yeah, it got cancelled because it was a fruitless search. I suppose we could parody it, no one sues you if you poke them with a schtick.
RAMONA
That's a pretty lame schtick. You'd do better making a porno. You're not very funny, in fact you're kind of morbid, really. You sure like coffee plenty, tho -- How about Star... Bucks?
VERNE
What? You think there aren’t any baristas in the future? They'd sue me for sure.
RAMONA
No, but... Hey, how- what about Herbert?
VERNE
Herbert? Wells? No? Herbert who? Hoover?
RAMONA
(Flatly:) No. Frank Herbert. Ever hear of The Book Of Frank Herbert, Destination: Void, Direct Descent, The Dosadi Experiment, Eye, The Eyes Of Heisenberg, The Godmakers, The Green Brain, The Santaroga Barrier, Soul Catcher, Whipping Star, The White Plague, or The Worlds Of Frank Herbert?
VERNE
Nope. Can’t say I ever have. (Pause.) Nope, nada; doesn’t ring a bell at all. Was he an actor?
RAMONA
(Flatly:) No. Ever hear of The Spice Melange?
VERNE
No, but I got plenty of Simoleon Spice. Why, that’s my main commodity; hey, we could write that in; yeah. I trade the seeds; I’m the haggle-man, see? Yeah, yeah, I got it! Maybe we could call the movie Star Hustler!
RAMONA
Let’s not and say we did -- I think I got a better idea. You wanna story where the main character becomes King Of The Universe, right? No problemo. Can you make one of those cool time-closets in here?
VERNE
A side-pocket inside the Internexus? (Playfully chuckles, realizing it would be like making a giant dope-pocket.) Why, sure, I never really thought about it, but yeah, that would be interesting. How creative! Sounds just like what a- Wow, you’d make a real-good living orbiting Zeta; with a brain like yours, they might make you run for office.
(He creates a time-closet, making a transparent, rectangle-door shape that appears like a tinted pane of glass. Gestures in a sweeping-motion to the the closet’s darkened entrance.)
VERNE (Cont’d)
S'all yours.
RAMONA
(RAMONA has gathered all the stuff in the bag that AZALEA had before; from Der Eliza, back in 1939. Even though it became a carpet-bag, the contents essentially-remain the same. Unfortunately, RAMONA didn’t bother rifling-through it until it was much, much later in time; like after sex; like after aimlessly looking for her spermicide and all. She lightly leans over and kisses VERNE’S cheek:) Thanks, luv.
VERNE
See ya in a minute.
RAMONA
Get dressed while I’m gone. And start thinking about where you want to take me to eat.
VERNE
To eat?
RAMONA
They got food on Zeta?
VERNE
Well, orbiting Zeta, yeah I guess so...
RAMONA
Yeah I guess so? Ain’t you hungry? We musta burned a thousand calories.
VERNE
I’ll give some thought toward where we’re gonna eat-at.
RAMONA
Good, but nothing too-sugary. No greasy, spicy or hot stuff either. I like mineral water, pine nuts and sunflower seeds...
VERNE
Hmmm. Not even chicken wings?
RAMONA
Oh heavens no! Hope that wasn’t what you were thinkin' of. (Sheepishly:) T-T-F-N-L-B...
VERNE
Huh?
RAMONA
(Coy, flirtatious:) Ta-Ta For Now, Lover-Boy...
(RAMONA blows him a kiss and enters the time closet. Captain Nemo sighs as his mind peruses other, useless equations, wondering why, seemingly, no one else in The Universe comparitively-shares his whole-hearted enthusiasm for a tub of Uncle Louie’s 99% Authentic Cajun Five-Alarm Charlie Bison Bites with extra Secret Chickory Smokehouse Blend With Sweet Celery Seasoning and Lou’s True Blu Dipping Sauce the way he does. Between eating those specialty chicken-wings, smoking high-grade marijuana, having an intense orgasm with an equally-intense lady, taking a hot bath, flying while lucidly-dreaming, guzzling-down Orion's Beer when he’s thirsty as a cotton-mouthed camel, or just simply going number-one with complete abandon when he really has to go, there is no distinction or favor among them. Each activity equally-targets the same pleasure centers of his brain. Like a hint of autumn arriving a week too early, VERNE inwardly-feels as if a new-found, closely-spiritual connection has gained a small distance, now that it’s been put completely into perspective. A different moment of oneness, if you will. For a swift, fleeting second, below the open sky and above the whiff-of-sulfur, he completely comprehends the wisdom gained from scaling-and-descending a newly-familiar plateau.)
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