by Nigel Kneale
INSIDE THE COTTAGE – DAY
We are inside the cottage. For the first time we are in an actual, hard set, lit by sunlight beaming brightly in through the tiny windows. The walls are lime-washed. It is the sort of primitive one-room building, little more than a stone hut, that might be found in many parts of the world—the Hebrides, the South Atlantic, North Japan.
As the aircraft roars outside, we take in the detail . . . from a high central shot, panning round, to represent the basic Output vision equipment.
At one end of the cottage is a huge open hearth, where an iron cooking pot hangs over a log fire, set ready to light. In the middle of the room is a crude table and some solid, rough chairs. Shelves hold plates and other crockery, but there is no sink, only a large bucket beneath the stone chopping-slab. At the far end of the room are two beds, a big double one and a small narrow one, both roughly carpentered. They are covered with heavy bedclothes, bolsters, patchwork covers. Any detail that seems to identify a particular part of the world is cancelled by some other that denies it. But the cottage has a strong character of its own.
The door is unlatched, cautiously opened. And there are Nat and Deanie and Keten, dressed in their heavy sub-Arctic clothing. Nat comes in first, wary of the total unfamiliarity, looking watchfully about. Deanie follows with the child.
Outside the aircraft roars. Nat turns quickly back to the doorway.
NAT: Hey, they gone?
He waves. But it is roaring rapidly away. He lets his arm drop.
DEANIE: You want to ask ’em?
NAT: About instructions.
He raises his wrist in the habitual gesture, but there is no contact on it. He grins at his forgetfulness, smoothing the unwontedly bare skin.
DEANIE: They said, everything inside.
NAT: Yes. (Their eyes pucker in the strong light as they peer after the aircraft. A sharp gust of wind blows in their faces) Feel the air move against you, so fast.
DEANIE: Cold.
KETEN: Look at the floor.
DEANIE: That’s the grass, like they said.
NAT: Better get the gear inside.
He tenses himself and goes. Keten moves closer to Deanie.
KETEN: Deanie . . . (Deanie holds her in the new way she has learned) . . . Too big.
Deanie takes her inside. Nat follows, dragging a big basket by its straps. He is panting. Deanie helps him get it through the doorway.
NAT: Floor all rough. That grass.
The sound of the aircraft has finally died away in the wind and the constant, distant crash of breakers on rocks. Seabirds screech from time to time.
Nat bangs the door shut. They are enclosed again, safe. Or they should be. But the feel of the surfaces under their hands and the air in their lungs are both raw and harsh.
NAT: Cold. All cold.
DEANIE: Yes.
She moves a chair and the heavy grating noise startles her. She smiles, embarrassed.
KETEN (pointing): The screens! (But what she is pointing at are the small windows on each side of the door) Mini-screens. They all funny.
DEANIE: They not screens.
KETEN: How not?
DEANIE: All real what you see out there. Real, Keten.
NAT: Sort of holes to look out. They called . . . called . . . I dunno.
But, reminded, he glances quickly about for what will tell him. On the table lies a familiar object, a tiny recorder. He picks it up, gaining immediate confidence from the feel of it. He presses a button.
OPIE’S VOICE (distorted): Instructions. In sound only. Set to erase after two weeks, so memorise. First, the fire. Keep fire at all times or you lose calories. Fire now set. Light with match. When matches gone, use tinder as follows—
Nat switches off. He finds the matches in a metal box by the hearth. They are big, like Bengal matches.
DEANIE: Know how?
Nat nods. He strikes one. It flares like a firework and Keten shrinks back with a little cry. He applies it to the dry grass that is stuffed beneath the peat and driftwood in the hearth.
DEANIE: Take these rigs off now?
NAT: Not yet.
They watch little flames curl and spread.
DEANIE: Flames, Keten. See.
Reassured, the child puts her hand towards the fire. Neither Nat nor Deanie react strongly.
NAT (dubiously): Better not.
DEANIE: Little ones maybe cool—
She touches one of them herself—and whips her hand back with a cry, stung. She gets to her feet, sucking the finger.
NAT: Hurt?
DEANIE: Not much. Got a patch, like for a cut?
NAT: We got no patches, (she stares at him) That’s the deal. (After a moment) Maybe, in the instructions . . .
He snaps the recorder on again.
OPIE’S VOICE: . . . Tinder is dry stuff to catch a spark . . .
Nat presses a button to change tracks.
OPIE’S VOICE: Seed. Vegetable seeds are in table drawer, seed potatoes outside in—
Nat presses button again.
OPIE’S VOICE: Vision units. Set inside and outside the hut. Main unit inside is set in roof. (High shot as Nat looks up. He is looking straight at us. Deanie notices and comes to look too. And Keten, who has been freeing the doll Timbo from her anorak. Nat points) Take care to make no damage to this unit. It is vital to the show.
INSIDE THE PRODUCTION POD
The identical shot is on the big screen in the production pod. Priest and Opie are still watching. Misch has joined them, sitting beside Opie.
PRIEST: Found the unit . . .
DEANIE (on screen): Must be on now. Must be able to see us.
NAT (on screen): Whole network can see us.
He glares up.
OPIE: Look . . . thinking what to say.
He flips controls. The shot tightens on Nat.
NAT (on screen): We here now and it started. We know you here too. To watch. We . . . we got each other and . . . it’s up to us now. (He turns away, and then back to add:) Nothing you can do to us any more.
Misch grimaces. Opie widens the shot. The three on the screen are peeling off their topcoats. Nat tackles the basket.
OPIE (glancing at the ratings strip): Ratings are good. They like it. (Priest turns to the Audience Sampler, where animated interest is being shown) When she touched the flame.
MISCH: That really jumped ’em. They hard to jump but that jumped ’em.
PRIEST (gratified): Yes. I think we got a show!
Misch turns to Opie and kisses him . . .
INSIDE THE COTTAGE – NIGHT
They have eaten. Nat sits at the table by the light of a single candle, watching as Deanie settles Keten in her small bed. Keten holds the doll tightly, close to her face.
DEANIE: Still cold?
KETEN: No.
DEANIE: What is it?
KETEN: Noises.
DEANIE: Just air . . . and . . . water. We get used to ’em.
KETEN: You not go out? (Deanie shakes her head) Nat?
DEANIE: We both be here. Always, (she pats the other bed) We sleep here. Now you sleep. (Keten buries her face in the doll’s ragged shape. Deanie joins Nat) Frightened. She be okay. (She studies the candle, touches the tall stem of it. She smiles) Not hot. Can we make these when we got no more?
NAT: Yes.
DEANIE: What out of?
NAT: Like the food . . . things I got to see tomorrow. Save it.
He blows the candle out and they sit in the glow of the dying fire. Deanie looks up at the vision unit.
DEANIE (softly): Think they see us now?
INSIDE THE PRODUCTION POD – NIGHT
A duty engineer sits alone at the control desk. A warning lamp flashes on the desk. He adjusts the controls, brightening the big screen ahead of him, where Nat and Deanie look up from the table. The duty engineer yawns and stretches. He turns to the Audience Sampler. There are only three or four faces watching, but they are alert, interested . . .
INSIDE THE COTTAGE – NIGHT
>
Deanie is in bed, and Nat swings himself in after her. He glances across at Keten.
NAT (whispering): Asleep.
DEANIE: That not asleep.
NAT: What?
DEANIE: That thing.
NAT: Forget about it.
He pulls the patchwork quilt up over them both.
INSIDE THE PRODUCTION POD
The duty engineer watches, bored, sucking at a brightener.
INSIDE THE COTTAGE – NIGHT
Nat puts his arm round Deanie.
NAT (surprised, whispering): You . . . all shaking.
DEANIE: Shivering. Like they said.
NAT: The cold?
DEANIE: No matter.
He pulls her closer to him. He looks into her face. He kisses her, not casually, almost ritually. And she returns it. They draw slightly apart and look into each other’s eyes.
A few moments later he sees she is shaking again. But this is different. She is laughing silently to herself. She smiles with a small, secret triumph.
NAT: What is it?
DEANIE: Not cold. (Moving closer) We got the laugh. On them, Nat. If we just go on and on, and we got fun . . . and they got to watch.
Nat grins. Then the grin fades.
NAT: It can be hard for us.
DEANIE: We learn. Take time and learn it all. We be okay, Nat. I know.
NAT: How?
DEANIE: I know. (She puts up her hands to hold his face and speak to it tenderly) We got our . . . place.
Nat nods solemnly through her hands. She smiles. She raises herself in the bed to look at her sleeping daughter . . . and then round her home. She gives the holographic unit a last, almost contemptuous glance. Then she settles back with Nat . . . in a warm, gernerous embrace . . .
INSIDE THE PRODUCTION POD
The duty engineer has lost interest in the screen. He is almost asleep in his seat . . .
INSIDE THE COTTAGE
Nat and Deanie lie asleep in each other’s arms . . .
INSIDE THE PRODUCTION POD
It is the following morning. Opie is back at the control desk and Priest is just joining him.
PRIEST: So, Lasar.
OPIE: So. He’s outside.
On the main screen is a wide exterior shot of the landscape in front of the cottage. Nat is there, with Deanie and Keten watching him nervously from the doorway as he starts to explore. He is carrying a plastic water bucket.
Opie zooms in to a tighter shot of Nat, who seems unaware of any holographic apparatus out here, or is simply ignoring the possibility. He peers watchfully at the gulls that scream overhead.
OUTSIDE THE COTTAGE
Nat grins to cover his uncertainty, glancing back at the cottage. Then he moves warily on towards the sound of gurgling water nearby. He is as watchful as a cat, ready to run back into shelter at any sign of danger.
A few yards from the cottage, just past the tiny vegetable patch with its stone-wall surround, a spring of clean water bursts from the ground. It splashes among worn stones.
Nat studies it. He waves the others forward, to watch as he places the bucket under the trickle of water.
NAT: See? Got to do this every day.
DEANIE: Automatic.
NAT: No. Not automatic. It just . . . runs.
They feel a creeping awe of the forces that this tiny spout may represent. Nat leaves the bucket to fill and turns to the bank that rises behind the cottage. He tests his footing, tries to climb. He slithers back on his bottom.
Deanie and Keten watch in some alarm as he scrambles up and tries again, clawing at the long grass and heather. In a moment he is a yard or two up the bank. He holds out his hand to Keten. She takes it and he pulls her up. Deanie follows suit. They help each other along, as unfamiliar with the ground beneath their feet as explorers on the Moon . . .
INSIDE THE PRODUCTION POD
Priest and Opie are watching absorbedly . . .
THE CENTRE OF THE ISLAND
In the foreground now is the shaggy form of a horned sheep. It suddenly turns and bolts. Nat comes into view, watching the sheep running away across the thin, broken turf. It stops a short distance away. He turns to Deanie and Keten, who are hesitating a few yards behind him.
NAT (calling): Must be a sheep. Like in the instructions. (Pointing) More of ’em. See?
KETEN: They real jumbo.
NAT: They just run.
He makes a sudden bound and the sheep bolts again. Keten bursts into relieved laughter. Nat and Deanie laugh too.
KETEN: Where the other animals?
DEANIE: The rabbits. Like it said.
Nat shakes his head. He pulls the recorder from his pocket and switches it on as they talk.
OPIE’S VOICE: “. . . The big animals named sheep are wild but harmless. Small animals named rabbits live in holes. You kill these for food, both sheep and rabbits. Cut off skins and . . .”
Nat switches the recorder off, less on account of Keten’s feelings than his own.
DEANIE: Kill . . .
KETEN: What’s kill?
Nat jams the recorder back in his pocket . . .
INSIDE THE PRODUCTION POD
Opie smiles to himself as he operates the controls . . .
A BARE HEADLAND
We zoom slowly towards the three figures moving along the skyline, dwarfed by the harsh, bare immensity of the landscape.
A closer shot as they move together across a broad, level stretch of turf. It seems safe here. The wind that blows in their faces is getting familiar and exhilarating. They walk faster, eager to see what is ahead.
The shot widens . . . and widens . . . to show that the broad level they are walking on is the top of a towering cliff. The rock face drops sheer to the sea. They pull up at the edge and peer cautiously down. Far below, huge breakers crash against the rocks and hurl up spumes of spray.
Surprisingly, as Nat steadies her, Keten laughs. They turn back, all three holding hands, running together, amused by the clumsiness of their steps . . .
A STONE CIRCLE
Great outcrops of rock jut like teeth from the hairy, weathered turf. Somewhere below the sea roars. Nat, Deanie and Keten appear, walking separately again. They stare about them, speechless at the strangeness of the place.
A circle of low standing-stones is set in the turf . . . an ancient relic of . . . what. They look at each other and have no answer. Keten runs among the rocks, enjoying the springiness of the turf. She keeps close enough to her parents to be sure of them. But she goes on her own, no longer afraid.
Nat touches the lichenous rock, taking pleasure in its harsh coldness. His to enjoy. He looks about with a new sense of possession, and at Deanie to see if she shares it. And knows that she does.
OUTSIDE THE COTTAGE
All three of them are cheerful and breathing fast as they scramble down the bank towards the cottage. They are gaining in confidence, learning to cope with the strange surfaces.
Nat picks up the full bucket from its place under the spring. He points to the little vegetable patch inside the dry stone wall.
NAT: We got food here, see? Little plants they left. Soon grow, we can eat ’em, then sow more seeds like it said.
DEANIE (happily): No need to kill ’em.
Nat throws the door open—and stops short. Deanie gives a strangled shriek and clutches Keten.
INSIDE THE COTTAGE
There are two people in the room, a man and a woman. The man is a huge fellow with a wild, grizzled beard. He is clad in roughly dressed sheepskins. The woman is a sombre creature, with a stillness about her that suggests an American Indian, Lapp or perhaps Patagonian. She wears elaborately worked garments of leather, that she must have made herself.
They stand quite motionless.
NAT: Who are you?
MAN: Name . . . Grels. (He pronounces it like “else”. His voice sounds genial. He points to the woman) This Betty.
NAT: How you get here? (Grels seems puzzled) Where you from?
&nb
sp; Grels seethes with amusement. He turns to Betty, but her face hardly changes from its immobility. He faces Nat again.
GRELS: Been here always. (He points) Other side island.
Nat and Deanie exchange glances.
DEANIE: But . . . they said . . . you see the men who came?
NAT: They see you?
Grels nods. He seems faintly puzzled by the question.
GRELS: They say you come. Man, woman, child. You Nat?
NAT: Yes.
Grels points at Deanie, running his eyes over her till she almost shrinks.
DEANIE: Deanie. This is Keten.
KETEN (pulling the doll out of her anorak): Timbo.
It breaks the spell. Grels roars with laughter. Even Betty smiles.
GRELS (to Nat): You got food?
NAT (guardedly): Yes.
GRELS: Not much. They tell me. (Chuckles) Listen, I help! I show how to get eggs, gull-eggs. I show you to get fish, too. Down the rocks I get crabs, big crabs! (Nodding at Keten) She like to eat. Listen, I bring hooks and we go for crabs. Eh?
NAT (relieved): Yes—
GRELS: Soon, soon. (He turns to Betty, nods at the door) Now we go.
She follows him obediently. In the doorway he turns to wave to Keten. Then they are gone. Keten runs to the door to watch.
NAT: He said nobody.
DEANIE: Who?
NAT: Lasar.
DEANIE: A mistake. Nat, they seem okay. Palwise. If he can help, this Grels, help get food—
NAT: He said nobody. (He makes for the vision unit, glowers up at it) You in Output. Lasar Opie, anybody, we made a deal! You trick on this, I do it too! I can smash this unit, stop the show! Now!
INSIDE THE PRODUCTION POD
There is Nat’s face on the main screen in the production pod. Opie and Priest are watching.
NAT (on screen): You hear?
He moves away. Priest frowns at Opie.
PRIEST: Who this two? Who this man Grels?
Opie pushes a mini-recorder across to him.
OPIE: Dossier.
PRIEST (picking it up, suspiciously): We made a deal. No interference.
OPIE (agreeing): No interference. Just a bit of scene-setting.
PRIEST: That all?
OPIE (evasively): It’s a show. Something got to happen.
The recorder is a confidential model with an earpiece extension. Priest applies it to his ear . . .
ON THE SHORE
A large crab is pulled out from the seaweed where it hides, on the end of a heavy hook stick. Grels dangles it triumphantly for a moment before dropping it in the sack of woven rushes that Nat holds ready.