NOT THE FIRST, NOT THE LAST
FADE IN:
EXT. PARK - LATE AFTERNOON - AUTUMN
Rain threatens. Gray skies hang low over nearly empty park benches.
It had been years since Synergos last saw Haplous, but there he was, sitting on a bench in the park, staring at nothing in particular. A damp paper coffee cup rests beside him, its contents long gone. His coat is a little too thin for the weather, his hair a little too unkempt, but his posture is relaxed, like a man who has nothing left to rush for.
Synergos almost walks past him, but something makes him stop.
SYNERGOS
Haplous?
Haplous turns, blinks twice, then breaks into a slow grin.
HAPLOUS
Well, well. Look at you. Still
carrying the weight of the world?
SYNERGOS
(smirking)
After you got kicked out for
drinking, I only lasted a few
more months.
HAPLOUS
(raising an eyebrow, amused)
Yeah? I always figured you weren't
doing much anyway.
SYNERGOS
Oh?
HAPLOUS
You always carried that bunch of
papers around like a shield. I could
tell you weren't actually working
on anything – just shuffling them to
look busy.
(chuckling)
And come on, Synergos. Nobody even
uses papers anymore.
SYNERGOS
(exhaling, shaking his head)
Well, you weren't wrong. They kind of
phased me out. Some younger guys came
in, I wasn't really needed anymore.
And to be honest...
(shrugging)
For a while, I was just pushing
papers around.
HAPLOUS
Of course you were. What else was
there to do?
Synergos shakes his head again. The air is damp, and the sky is already bruising with the early signs of rain. He stuffs his hands into his coat pockets.
SYNERGOS
What about you? What have you been up to?
Haplous stretches his legs out, sighing like a man without much to complain about, but even less to boast about.
HAPLOUS
Oh, you know. A little of this, a
little of that. Turns out being a
college professor and a monk doesn't
train you for much. Did some odd jobs.
I'm heading to Alberta tonight – got
a bus ticket. The weather is great in
those parts, and I've got a friend I'm
sure I can land a job with over the winter.
Synergos nods, then after a beat:
SYNERGOS
Look, if you've got time before your
bus, I could drive you over to McDonald's.
We could get something to eat.
Haplous hesitates.
SYNERGOS
My treat.
HAPLOUS
(smirking)
Well, since you put it that way.
(glancing up at the sky)
And look at those clouds.
They start walking toward Synergos' car, the pavement already darkening with fresh rain.
EXT. WALKING TO THE CAR - CONTINUOUS
As they walk, Synergos hesitates, then turns to Haplous.
SYNERGOS
Hey, I was just wondering… after, uh,
you had that problem… did you ever
get any help?
HAPLOUS
(squinting)
Help? What kind of help?
SYNERGOS
You know… support?
HAPLOUS
Financial?
SYNERGOS
No, no. I mean... like, treatment?
Haplous stops walking and blinks at him.
HAPLOUS
For what?
SYNERGOS
(leaning in, lowering his voice)
The drinking, Haplous.
HAPLOUS
(chuckling, shaking his head)
Ah. That. You know, Synergos, people
like to believe they're steering the
ship. But the river doesn't ask the
boat which way it wants to go. I drink
when I drink. I stop when I stop. No
big story to it.
SYNERGOS
(frowning slightly)
So you don't think it matters?
HAPLOUS
Sure, everything matters. But you have
to see reality for what it is. Suppose
someone in the monastery organization
wanted me out, and yes, I do indulge a
little bit more than the average monk,
and maybe that was just what they used
to justify firing me. So all things
considered, maybe that's a problem,
maybe it's not.
(grinning)
Now let's get that burger. Before the
universe makes the choice for us.
IINT. CAR/EXT. MCDONALD'S DRIVE-THRU - NIGHT
The windshield wipers flick back and forth as Synergos pulls into the McDonald's parking lot. The golden arches buzz in the wet night, neon reflections stretching out over the pavement. The drive-thru speaker crackles.
DRIVE-THRU VOICE
(garbled)
Welcome to McDonald's. Order when ready.
Haplous studies the menu with the careful attention he once gave to ancient texts.
HAPLOUS
The humble cheeseburger. A perfect
example of pattern recognition across
cultures. I'll take one, with large
fries and a Coke. A real Coke.
(with warm nostalgia)
Reminds me of those late nights at
the monastery when we'd sneak into
the kitchen.
Synergos smiles at the memory.
SYNERGOS
One side salad and a Diet Coke.
HAPLOUS
(with gentle amusement)
You've always been more disciplined
than the rest of us. Even in the small
things.
SYNERGOS
Someone had to balance you out.
(smiling)
It's why we worked well together.
HAPLOUS
(nodding)
Different templates, same framework.
They pull up to the window. A teenager in a cap and headset hands them the bags without a word. The rain drums harder against the roof of the car as Synergos drives to an empty corner of the parking lot. The smell of fries fills the car, as Haplous carefully arranges his meal on the wrapper, finding order in the mundane.
HAPLOUS
So, what have you been doing since
the monastery? Besides pushing papers,
I mean.
SYNERGOS
I wrote down the dialogues. You know,
what we used to talk about.
HAPLOUS
(raising an eyebrow)
And?
SYNERGOS
Posted them online. Sent some emails.
Even cold-emailed some neuroscience
researchers.
Haplous nearly chokes on a fry.
HAPLOUS
You what? You actually emailed
neuroscientists? And let me guess—
SYNERGOS
Nothing. No responses. Not a single one.
Haplous grins, shaking his head.
HAPLOUS
Well, maybe if you had some credentials,
like having taught at an Ivy League
school…
SYNERGOS
(frowning)
But you have, so why haven't you
gotten the word out?
HAPLOUS
Oh, Synergos.
Haplous leans back against the headrest, takes a long sip of his Coke.
HAPLOUS
The cardinal is my friend, and he thought
the monastery would be good for me. I
spoke something like an Ivy League
professor, so he put that in his letter.
I had no idea. Those letters are totally
confidential. I didn’t find out until years
later. But you know what’s funny? Before the
monastery, I had the framework, but I was
working it out alone. Then suddenly, because
of one letter, I was ‘Professor Haplous.’ And in that
brief, shining space, the framework wasn’t just mine
anymore. It resonated. It had another voice shaping it,
challenging it, carrying it forward.
SYNERGOS
(blinking)
Wait… what?
HAPLOUS
(grinning)
You heard me. The cardinal put it in
there, but there is no truth to it,
I've never taught in the Ivy League.
Beat. The windshield wipers click rhythmically against the rain.
SYNERGOS
(staring at him)
So did you teach somewhere?
HAPLOUS
Never even got a degree. Does it make
a big difference?
SYNERGOS
(processing, then smiling)
No actually, now that you mention it.
It doesn't make any difference.
HAPLOUS
It was serendipitous, maybe. We really
did have some shining moments, and maybe
it was that whole aura that the cardinal
created with that letter that led to
what we did.
Synergos is silent. The rain outside seems louder now, drumming against the roof.
HAPLOUS
(popping another fry into his mouth)
Funny, huh? The letter gave me authority,
and that is so important for people,
isn't it, much more than the truth, or
whether things make sense.
There is a pause as Synergos thinks. Haplous continues taking bites out of his burger.
HAPLOUS
I'm glad you tried.
Synergos looks at him, surprised.
HAPLOUS
Most people wouldn't have. That's the
thing, Synergos. You throw a rock in a
pond, sometimes the ripples don't go far.
But that doesn't mean the rock didn't
hit the water.
They eat in silence for a while, the rain streaking down the windows, the neon glow of the McDonald's sign flickering through the wet glass. Haplous takes a long sip of his Coke.
HAPLOUS
You know, it's kind of funny. You wrote
it all down, sent it out into the world,
and got nothing back. Meanwhile, I never
wrote anything, never sent a word, and
here I am eating fries in a parked car.
SYNERGOS
So what's the moral of that story?
HAPLOUS
None. That's the thing about stories,
Synergos. They only have morals if you
force them.
A pause. The rain taps against the windshield. Haplous wipes his fingers on a napkin and stares out at the wet streets.
HAPLOUS
Oh, see? There's the bus stop.
SYNERGOS
I'll pull over.
Synergos eases the car forward and parks near the shelter. They sit for a moment, listening to the rain. Then, without a word, Haplous pushes the door open and steps out. Synergos hesitates, then follows.
EXT. BUS STOP – NIGHT
The two of them stand beneath the awning, the streetlights casting long shadows. The rain patters around them. Haplous gives a dry, rattling cough. Synergos glances at him, frowning.
SYNERGOS
I think I'll wait with you for a bit.
If you don't mind.
HAPLOUS
(sniffing, shrugging)
Suit yourself.
They stand in silence, watching the rain.
SYNERGOS
(hesitantly)
You ever think about those days at the
monastery? When we'd sit under that old
oak and everything seemed to make sense?
HAPLOUS
(with a distant look)
That place... it was like time folded
in on itself. Like we found a pocket
where the world couldn't reach us.
SYNERGOS
Sometimes I wonder if it even happened.
If we really saw what we thought we saw.
HAPLOUS
(smiling faintly)
It happened, Synergos. Not all treasures
get to be displayed in museums. Some only
exist in the moment, then disappear.
(looking at the rain)
But that doesn't make them any less real.
SYNERGOS
I tried to tell people. Nobody wanted
to hear it.
HAPLOUS
(nodding)
That's how you know it was special.
The world wasn't ready for it. Maybe
never will be. But for a little while,
we were there. We saw it.
The distant glow of headlights flickers across the wet pavement, growing brighter.
SYNERGOS
Haplous… do you think the framework
is real?
Haplous turns slightly, considering him. The bus's headlights pierce through the night. Then, just as it seems he's about to step forward, he exhales and shakes his head.
HAPLOUS
There'll be other buses. Sit down,
Synergos. Opposing benches. You want
to know why I was the first? I'm going
to tell you exactly why.
The bus hisses to a stop, but neither of them moves. The moment stretches. Then, as the bus pulls away without them, Haplous begins to speak.
HAPLOUS
We talked in the dialogues about the
mistaken impressions. How people see
their own minds in reverse, how they
mistake perception for input, how they
think their memories are stored, like files,
instead of being rebuilt each time. No wonder
they can't see how the brain really works.
But that's not really an answer, is it?
Because here's the thing: I don't think
I was the first one to see the framework.
It's too simple. Too obvious. I'm sure
other people have seen it before. Not a
lot of people, but a few, here and there.
SYNERGOS
(watching him closely)
Then why hasn't it caught on?
HAPLOUS
Because it's not the kind of thing
that spreads before the world is ready
for it. Even you – you wrote it down,
put it online, sent it to people who
should've understood it. What happened?
Synergos is quiet.
HAPLOUS
Exactly. You see, Synergos, the framework
isn't hidden. It's just ignored. The mind
is slippery. It doesn't like looking at
itself too closely. Most people will turn
away before they ever see it clearly.
SYNERGOS
(after a moment, softly)
Does that make you sad?
Haplous smiles, shaking his head.
HAPLOUS
Once you understand the framework, you
realize there's nothing to be sad about.
And nothing to be arrogant about either.
Life isn't for recognition, or proving
you're right. It's for enjoying. For sharing.
Synergos lets out a breath. He hadn't expected to feel this light. For a while, they just sit there, listening to the rain.
HAPLOUS
I never put the framework together for
recognition. I just wanted to solve the
question. And I did. It doesn't matter
if it's not accepted now – it surely
will be. Because I see it clearly. And
I know it's right.
Haplous stands up, stretching, looking down the street. A new bus is approaching in the distance, headlights cutting through the wet night.
HAPLOUS
So, no, I don't think I was the first
one to see the framework.
He glances back at Synergos, smiling.
HAPLOUS
And I won't be the last.
The bus pulls up, hissing as the doors swing open. Haplous steps inside, disappearing into the dim light.
Synergos sits a moment longer. The streetlamp flickers. The night stretches out, empty and endless.
And then, finally, he stands and walks back to his car, leaving nothing behind but footprints on the wet pavement.
FADE TO BLACK.
If you care to read another epilogue, you can go to Epilogue IV.