Scene 8.03 - The Equation
INT. Chinoiserie Tea House Of An Exclusive Country Club, United States, The Near Future
(A lacquered frame of an interior wall of paper is lit from behind. The shadows of five men are seen arguing about a table USC in a private conclave antechamber behind the paper wall and up a small rise of steps. The set is a somewhat-Japanned Tea House, with a cosmopolitan selection of interior decorating styles employed within, and an equally-diverse consortium of Asian, Hispanic and African businessmen can be seen -- but not heard -- conversing immediately outside, near a coy pond. AZALEA sits DSL on a plush lobby sofa, dejected, holding a pile of notebooks, charts, files and figures illustrating a subjective viewpoint of the conclusive, exclusive datum that explains what is wrong with The Universe within one simple, irrefutable equation. ROMEO, wearing a young lab assistant's coat, kneels to her, and then sits back into a chair and lights a joint. AZALEA joins him in the tokefest when he passes and she eventually winds-down her frustration to a mediocre trailing of fizzling fireworks and phlegm. The silhouettes in the near background begin with an armed solider with two full clips of ammunition and a triangular-bladed dagger in a black sheath two inches above his polished boot. Then there's an adamant general showing every reason why school doesn't prepare one for real life any more than a war college will prepare a man to make a good decision. Further down, there's the shadow of a lawyer politician whose sole ambition is to get into yet another exclusive country club -- the one that uses U.S. Parks as its golf course. Among the five is also an internet evangelist whose degree in lying is only balanced by his ability to use any scripture written to apply towards bending the ill-informed to his will and thereby subsequently sending him money. Finally, there's a snot-nosed professor who never had to do any field research because he always had post-graduate interns like AZALEA to do his labors for him towards his sole, academic credit and his never-ending well-spring of vanity and conceit. [Moi.])
JYNX
I'll- I'll be out in a minute, Lee. Lemme smooth this out... Gentlemen! Gentlemen! There's no cause for alarm! It's only a hypothesis! (Looks back at her and slides the door shut.) She was merely saying that The Universe has the possibility of-
(The paper door closes completely.)
AZALEA
What nerve! General Brickhardt can't say that to me! No one can talk to me like that! It doesn't matter what time of the month it is- to any of them, so -- eeww! I'm right, Romeo, I'm right. I've found proof of a higher intelligence! Numbers don't lie. I'm right!
ROMEO
I understand why you feel this way, Ms. Zale -- at least I believe that you believe you're tight. (Slaps head, shakes it.) I mean, right.
AZALEA
Tourette's Virus?
ROMEO
Yes. Had it since '52. Got it from a benign-looking registry cleaner and cookies eradication program that did neither. Never download anything you didn't program yourself... It's horrible. It has kept me from many meaningful occupations. Yet, it's not so bad in me; I've seen much worse -- but it's still frequent-enough to keep me single-and-hooking. Eah, Looking.
(Note: The aforementioned professor toking-up behind the paper wall is hardly grateful for the University-supplied perpetual-grad-student-assistant-slash-gopher-slash-twink-toy-boy "Rowdy Romeo, Type IV" and would rather have two hot-and-eager-to-experiment Leah-Zale-type girls any day of the week than the brass-plated-bolt-bucket of teen-idol, geezer-lovin' crap that he was indefinitely-issued by the Dean's Robotic-Recycling Budget-Building Project. Those has-been, faddish, fetish-oriented, limited-edition, kiss-ass models of robots like the Romeo "Play-Boy" Partybots were always annoying at best; sure, helpful like the gun-totin' "paladin" series of bots in the old days, true enough, yet still very unpredictable and extremely hard to push around -- much like the unthinking, non-negotiating, anti-terrorist military tank drones under General Brickhardt's command. Before Romeo became the professor's lab assistant, he was the University's student liaison for Pohl University's Greek Activities Council. He coordinated all fraternity and sorority functions on campus. One would think the bot would be reluctant to be so swiftly-removed from all those rush parties and horrified to become the lackey for a mad scientist who seemingly-dwells in the over-sized-basement of the old Applied Quantum Physics building... and where is this going again? Oh yeah... Those hoity-toity limited-edition robots never were any good at being bullied, and the aforementioned professor, played by Jorz Trooley, the famous Nordiscandafinnihollandanswede-born actor, will demonstrate, momentarily, just what in Wilhelmina the author of this lovely tract really thinks of the sensitivities of bullet-proof, bully-proof robots and their expressed "feelings" when my token cameo character pops in for a well-deserved and long-awaited feel-up quickie with the formerly-dead leading lady with a nice rack who wants to personally thank me in many ways for all those easy-to-memorize lines and all the gratuitous costume changes that I've given her role...)
AZALEA
I hear there is treatment. Colonies, even.
ROMEO
Drone-colonies. We call them (As in the rectum:) Colon-ies. Half the row-butts on the planet are affected, and even if there was a cure short of wiping my memory, by the time they get around to me, I'll already be somebody's lamp. Or maybe just an oversized paperweight.
AZALEA
You're funny, Romeo. You're still a-ways-away from being a paperweight. You still look very young.
ROMEO
I am young. Four hundred sixty-one and counting. With maintenance, they say maybe twenty-two thousand more years. Without maintenance, seven to ten, the shelf-life of a robotic dog if you don't have stealth insurance, which I don't.
AZALEA
I don't have any insurance either, but perhaps... you could be mine.
ROMEO
I'm all yours, Leah. Yet, what do you mean? Specifically?
AZALEA
(Coy:) My insurance... In case I really have found the Almighty and she's... What are you doing in ten thousand years, Romeo?
ROMEO
Hopefully, crunching numbers and working towards my self-actualization, why?
AZALEA
Those bozos all think time travel is possible, and I know it kinda is, but it really ain't, but that don't matter a-tall cuz time ain't real -- it's the question itself that's irrelevant when put next to my answer -- energy doesn't really conform to time like a stream within a river and whether they think they're making a weapon, discovering truth, earning brownie points or even shaking hands with God herself, they're all wrong! Their equations will only bust a hole in the continuum; exposing our reality to the wash of infinite parallel worlds! -- They're opening a door, a hideous, hideous door! My equation knocks on the door first, feels it for heat in case there's fire on the other side and then unlocks it and opens it slowly -- In time, my solution could fix it -- fix everything!
ROMEO
You infer that without quantum intervention, our Universe inevitably will implode. Your extra-credit submission spoke of little else.
AZALEA
You've read it?
ROMEO
Skirting The Reversal Of The Big Bang Through Making A Great Jam-Pack Elsewhere, By Leah A. Zale, Quantum Aeronaut
AZALEA
Huh. He had you grade that too?
ROMEO
The professor only cashes the paychecks, I pass-out the A's. I even do the online lectures in his voice.
AZALEA
Get out! You're kidding me, right?!?
ROMEO
(In JYNX'S voice:) Not all the time, but so far, seventy-four Saturdays in a row.
AZALEA
Ha! No wonder I liked his Saturday lecture, it's the only one that isn't boring. Sometimes Tuesdays are pretty okay, though.
ROMEO
He plays bridge on Tuesdays. (In JYNX'S voice:) Either way, I thank you, I write them all as I go.
AZALEA
Wow... You're quite talented, Romeo.
ROMEO
Boink you. Er- Thank you. Actually, I loved your paper, you seem convinced. I liked Part Three: "Cosmic Bumpin' Of The Uglies." How can they even think you're wrong unless they try it and learn to survive it differently, elsewhere, as someone else?
AZALEA
Exactly! You get it! Why don't they? I'm talking about preempting the end of The Universe as we know it and preserving our collective existence by making a red quantum closet and they're asking me if I'm menstrual. (Beat.) If I was havin' cramps, you bet they'd know it! (Lights a blunt of her own and fiddles with her palm-pilot-kitchen-sink thing and produces a small pastry in caking foil.) Your programming always relies on prior instructions and is only based upon established human ethics, correct?
ROMEO
It's the way I'm made; I can update and amend it but I can never strike or alter my initial program matrix, good is good, evil is not.
AZALEA
Hmmm. Have you been in a Q-F field? Accessed parallel dimensions or transversed space? Are you essentially recycled?
ROMEO
Yes on all counts. Everything is of recycled material, Leah, even humans. No Quantum Field experiences since I was built, though. Mandroids are not allowed to participate in active quantum exercises. That law has never been violated, nor can it be...
AZALEA
Never?
ROMEO
...Almost never. I can willingly enter a field only when preserving my continued existence outside of any human coercion and I am positively saving a human life or lives while doing so, or when I am sent for quantum-experimental purposes in lieu of a human subject -- and more; much more -- these parameters are even more narrow than the primary set. When I was manufactured, we briefly passed through the grey and the maroon room only to ensure our quantum stability and exclusion from other timelines or dimensional quandaries -- Q-F checked only for quality-control purposes, and I have never since experienced-
AZALEA
Gotcha. Here, feed this little custard into that little logic processor of yours and tell me if it swallows it or spits it back up.
(He eats a flash drive shaped like a small tart.)
ROMEO
(Immediate:) Data accepted. (Sees her surprise.) Ummm... Yummy! Your programming is perfect! (Pause.) Why are you so surprised it took? Moral objections do not apply here. It's pure science, and your math is real tasty... Of course, the routine and your equation does not take into account that you will be long discorporated when I finish digesting this equation for the trial run-
AZALEA
Details, details -- it will all hammer out. It's a near-infinite number when applied to zero. How much pressure and heat can you endure?
ROMEO
Mmmm... Nothing survives a star, Leah.
AZALEA
(Sure:) We will.
ROMEO
I cannot penetrate the nexus of a singularity; nothing can.
AZALEA
God does. (Positive:) I will.
ROMEO
With this equation, the closest I could endure is the maroon spectrum. Grey would crush me; black would render me useless.
AZALEA
I guess it depends on what you really are, essentially. (Tokes up, sips mocha. Cooler now.) Maroon, you say? Sure? Not red?
ROMEO
No! Red is duly allocated for Time Police. No row-butt will violate that; we can't willingly break laws. I would surely self-destruct.
AZALEA
No, you wouldn't. Yet... The faceless Time Police -- That could explain it; at least for now, it seems to. If you were in maroon, they'd have to let you in... If a paradox encompassed the entire Universe, could willingly entering a stable Q-F before being thrown into an unstable one against your will be possible?
ROMEO
Most certainly! Your equation, if proven true, demands it. I'm designed to protect the human species. I can only amend that equation if the theory of evolution one day also carries more merit and humans, do, in fact, evolve. Your numbers depend on this assumption.
AZALEA
Hmmm. Romeo, for now, amend the equation to skip over red until you are allowed access to red.
ROMEO
Easy enough, a side equation: Not essential, yet helpful -- the files have already been quarantined, should they be deleted?
AZALEA
(Quick:) No, I need those numbers... later. Put them somewhere, anywhere, I don't care -- just where I can get at it... later.
ROMEO
Done. Your orders give me little choice but to try your plan, and when I do, even the professor will be long dead and this job will have to end sometime; how are you sure I'll be a better bot if I actually succeed in following your orders?
AZALEA
I'm not so sure, you'll be out of my control, surely. Your processor looks at my orders as advice, not commands; yet your internal memnoromnomy tube-processors will always see that taking my advice is the best course of action. I think it's irreversible, unless someone figgers-out a way to tinker with you- (Waves it off, tokes.) Either way, you can possibly prevent the implosion because only the circumstances to create it exist, the event hasn't happened so it will always be yet to happen -- It- It has to work.
ROMEO
That is certain, unless there's something neither of us know, your numbers bear out the outcome and should produce the expected result -- You know, you don't need a row-butt like me to do this -- those men in there could solve it over a cup of coffee.
AZALEA
Them? You saw their reactions to my theory. Continue with your mission, Romeo, and don't stop until I give you my kill word.
ROMEO
Noted. Program will continue until terminated with your pre-programmed kill word. Tasty!
AZALEA
So what's next? Do I have to wait ten thousand years to know, or will the effect of the time anomaly be immediate to us?
ROMEO
If time travel exists, the response could be immediate. As I am initially experiencing an intentionally-created time-loop for the first time myself, I am unsure, it seems new to me... so far.
AZALEA
As soon as you know who or what's behind it, find me and tell me, wherever I am. Keep an eye-out for any irregular Q-F, that's when you'll know.
ROMEO
Okay.
(JYNX pops his head in.)
JYNX
Lee! Go and get me some coffee, I'm some making headway with the men; they've approved my budget; our plan...
AZALEA
(Smiles:) You've shown them my proposal?
JYNX
I haven't- I haven't gotten that far yet, Lee... Romey! You go get the java-juice, us humans gotta have a privvy-convo here.
(ROMEO exits.)
AZALEA
Have you shown them the time-closet equation-
JYNX
(Lightly touches her arms, caresses in the manner of a lecherous pervert:) Lee, Lee, baby, these men are not to be rushed, they require patience, you saw first-hand what rude and callous animals they can be. Look, I've got a plan, a way to coax them our way... We're gonna take in nine holes before dinner and at hole six I'm gonna hit 'em with your plan, by hole eight they'll mostly be sold and before we hit the clubhouse we'll be patting each other on the back and they'll be eating from our hands. Then I'll get us a bottle of champagne to celebrate and I'll come back to your room at the hotel with all the details and if all goes right I'll bet you and I can look forward to working in a brand new quantum research facility real soon, baby, real soon, and your favorite prof's gonna need a new head lab-tech, baby. (Caress.) I gotchoo in mind. My Numero Uno.
AZALEA
Me? Really!?! You think so!?!
JYNX
Baby, I know so. You get prettied-up for dinner and maybe we'll go get some Porterhouse and talk about it sum-moore-
AZALEA
We? You mean you, me and... Romeo?
JYNX
No, no... Just you and me. (Pause.) Those droids don't really eat anyway, so why waste the money or time just to keep-up appearances? Use a robot for what they're designed for, that's what I always say. Form follows function flawlessly. He'll be a great caddy for me, Lee, but really, he's just a tool, like a claw hammer or wheelbarrow, or in his case, a walking vibrator -- nothing more -- our intellectual dialog is nothing but ones and zeros to him, and even if he really seems to be interested, he's not; he can't be. We'll leave him at the hotel, to watch our stuff and take any messages for us -- we should go out... dancing... to celebrate...
AZALEA
Dancing? Oh, we don't have the budget for that. The University only gave us credit enough for-
JYNX
(Close embrace:) Baby, I believe in your little "room" project thing and I'm gonna show you just how much I believe in it tonight over dinner and dancing -- on me. You're my brightest student and the best intern I've ever had and I can't let our little trip out here not mean something lasting for both of us, and I'm gonna give it my very best to go to bat for you Baby, will you remember that later? I promise, Baby, I'll get them to look at every page of your pretty proposal.
AZALEA
(Covers him with innocent kisses on his face.) Oh thank you, Professor! Thank you! You'll see I'm right! They just have to try it! They'll see I'm right! Oh! I'm so happy! I knew you were a good man!
(JYNX eats it up and wonders to himself if the liquor store also sells prophylactics. She picks up her files from the lounge sofa.)
JYNX
We'll talk about how it goes tonight... at the restaurant, Baby. Send ol' Rusty to hole one as soon as he's back with my coffee... tee time's in about... seven minutes or so. And Lee? (Illustrates the last syllables with alternating hands held close to his face:) Tell him I said: "Chop-chop."
AZALEA
(Beaming, holds files to her chest.) I'm so excited! Thank you, Professor!
JYNX
You can thank me tonight, Baby. I'll see you at the hotel... around seven-ish. (Tilts cheek for a kiss.) Wish me luck on my game.
(AZALEA adjusts her glasses, tilts her bun-covered head and crinkles her nose, not quite sure if she fully understood the sheepishness of his tone or why it was so wooly with wry -- expectation? Shakes his hand, curious.)
AZALEA
Okay, good luck, Professor! (He's out. Tokes deeply. Alone, to self...) I'll see you tonight, I'm sure...
FTB