by Daniel Slack
Ed stands in a distant corner.
BRIAN
(tuts)
He set it up then.
Someone on a larger desk who's probably in charge stands, a POLITICIAN of sorts.
POLITICIAN
Because we have nothing better to do, the floor is yours. The situation is transparent and so you are allowed to address us before further action.
Brain flashes him a fake smile and he sits.
BRIAN (V.O)
(whispering)
Shit. I wasn't expecting that.
He takes a moment for all levity to dissipate...
... then takes a deep breath.
BRIAN
I am outraged. I am outraged because... because I have simply been hurt.
POLITICIAN
Excuse--
BRIAN
(standing up)
No! I will say this now and never again. Nobody say a single word until fucking asked to.
He stares at the faces of the men around him, wanting them to say something, wanting to annihilate whoever dares.
He calms.
BRIAN
I'm not going to be able to pull off anything like Chaplin or even Jimmy Stewart here...
(sighs)
... and I don't have a political agenda, but... we usually live in a place we call Earth. A place where people live. But, what are people? What the fuck are these gangly, self-righteous, nasty, relentless bacterium? To be honest, there's no other word for it but people. Human. Homosapien. You, me and whoever the fuck else wants to make a claim. Where do people live? I believe the word is country. Russia, America, Ethiopia, Australia, China, England, Brazil, Iran, Algeria, Germany, Mexico and all the other places you people were waiting to hear. We must be insane. I tell you, fucking insane. People, countries, human, continents, Earth, Mars, Jupiter, the fucking Milky Way, goddamn capital letters. Capital fucking letters? I sometimes don't know what to say to ideals, customs, like that. But, I fucking do now. What I have to say is... Now. Mine. Fuck. And You. Give me all you've got because I'm fucking asking. All you pricks don't mean shit to me. I would bite your motherfucking heads off and shit you out, just to know that I could flush you away and never have to think about interacting with you again. But... but, we need a point.
(whispers)
Fuck, I need a point.
(sighs)
We're all idiots, I hear myself now and inside there's something that's nagging...
(high pitch nagging voice)
Shut up, just go home, there's no--blah-b fucking shitty drama, T.V bullshit.
(back to normal)
But, that voice, it's not mine. I don't and will never own shit. One can only ever simply be... you know? That voice, for all intents and purposes, belongs to you lovely people. I get that... fucking... nagging... because of yourselves. I am a person that is willing to let that all go for an apparent... omnipotent, grandiose, higher, kind of feeling that is, in a sense, opposed to the... the, the, the nagging, you know. There's a world we all see, and, simply put, it's our own. We can only see through these things stuck in our head and unfortunately they're not connected to much more than a brain. Brains, says Brian, are apart of reality. Everything that our imagination cannot tangibly get its talons and proboscis' on is apart of reality. Then, there of course is the mind: the true reality within us all. Because reality is just what we want to believe in, and if anyone says anything other than that... well, I don't know, rape and mutilation is what I'd suggest, but... Reality one is the universe beyond the mind, what simply is. Reality two is the mind. I say 'the', because I can only refer to one - my own. But, I of course mean all of our think boxes. What happens when reality one no longer matters to an entity within it? Reality two is the simple answer. To us, whatever makes you believe makes us compatible...
(searches for words)
... is... There are many reality twos, you know, me you and so on.... We are stuck within ourselves like a raindrop is in the sea...
Brian searches for words again.
BRIAN (V.O)
(whispering)
I didn't steal that from Blade Runner, did I? Wait, something's coming.
He sits down and looks at them again.
BRIAN
There it is! I have found my argument! I am a raindrop. I am a raindrop! I fucking love hearing that. I am a raindrop. I have fallen from a cloud, a place I am indifferent to, a place I don't give a single fuck about and I am falling. I'm falling fast. In motherfucking capital italics, I'm falling fast. What happens when I stop falling? I'll tell you what. I am not going to hit a country. I am not going to smash into oblivion. I will not evaporate and cycle. I, the raindrop, am going to be embraced by no one! I will keep my mind. Fuck reality one!
(tapping his head)
This will be reality one.
Everyone just looks at him.
BRIAN
Questions?
POLITICIAN
What exactly is it you want from us?
BRIAN
Papers dipshit. You've got a hostage situation here.
POLITICIAN
Where--
BRIAN
There's no where, when, how or what. Hostages don't ask questions!
Nobody knows what to say.
BRIAN
That's you, the hostages. You're in an unfortunately weird situation where you have to negotiate yourself out of circumstances in which your life is being held for ransom to subsidise a deal in which your life stops being yours, and starts becoming mine. In part at least--if you fail to extend me any kind of courteous or empathetic forgiveness. Meaning, shut the fuck up and give me what I want before I destroy you.
The Politician looks around to all the beaten faces in the room then stands, his hand on his chest, asking to speak.
BRIAN
Go ahead.
POLITICIAN
If there were such a thing to see as impossibility--
BRIAN
Rhyme.
POLITICIAN
... then the mind would crumble and I couldn't walk.
BRIAN
You couldn't walk?
POLITICIAN
No, and I couldn't talk either.
He draws a bundle of documents out from his desk and makes his way down to Brian.
POLITICIAN
How this begins, I do not know.
Brian looks at him and smiles.
INT. SCARLETT'S COCKPIT - LATER
Brian sits in his seat with a huge grin on his face.
BRIAN
Well, that was easy. Those NASA boys are quite cool. Seems like they really understood me. I thought the speech was a disaster. They caught me off guard. But...
Brain holds up a bunch of papers.
BRIAN
They'll call me, Mr. President! Everything fell into place and I convinced them I'm not too bad a guy to be a politician. So how's that?
He beams at us, bewildered, excited.
INT. OFFICE - MORNING
Brian sits behind a massive desk in a neat suit with his eye fixed whilst a crew set up a camera in front of him.
Eliza stands in the corner watching. Julie hands her a coffee.
Brian salutes them both as a woman mics him up and the director counts down from ten.
Brian smiles at the camera and pulls up the remote.
DIRECTOR
Four, three, two...
He points at Brian indicating go.
BRIAN
Fellow humans...
He plays with the remote.
BRIAN
... control...
>FADE OUT
END
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