Waste of Space

by Gina Damico

  [The group eagerly nods its assent; Jamarkus has clearly won. Clayton fumes and is about to say something when Chazz cuts him off.]

  Chazz: [voiceover] Now that that’s settled, you are free to move about the spaceplane! To celebrate your conquest, please enjoy a round of sparkling apple cider, compliments of our friends at Martinelli’s.

  Leaving Clayton behind to sputter in disgrace, the rest of the cast is off to squeal over the posh furnishings (an onscreen graphic reminds viewers which retailer has provided them—as if the catalog prominently displayed on the coffee table isn’t reminder enough). Some of them splay across the plush sofa, while others pour refreshments into funky polka-dotted glasses under whimsically modern lighting. Gradually they split off into groups of twos and threes and begin to converse.

  Source: Camera #4—Lünar Lounge

  [Jamarkus rushes around the room, eagerly taking everything in, while Hibiscus assesses the décor with disdain.]

  Hibiscus: Surely they jest. All this budget, and they couldn’t spring for a single authentic item not easily assembled with an Allen wrench?

  Jamarkus: But how mind-blowing is this? We’re in space!

  Hibiscus: Yeah, onboard a ship that was probably constructed in a Chinese sweatshop.

  Jamarkus: But in space! [extending his hand] Nice to meet you. I’m Jamarkus.

  Hibiscus: [ignoring his hand] Hi, Jamarkus. This is Svalsta, the coffee table. This is Älvsbyn, the chandelier. And Slom, the water bottle. Cookie-cutter, eye-candied, no-personality abominations purchased by deplorable, unimaginative, vapid, materialistic sheeple.

  Bacardi: Omigod, Svalsta, the coffee table! [She barrels into the living room area, drink in hand.] Älvsbyn, the chandelier! Fjälkinge, the shelving unit! Slom bottles! OOOH! [She rushes over to a hot-pink inflatable seat made with faux fur.] A puffy Püffi chair!

  Hibiscus: Case in point.

  Bacardi: Hi, I’m Bacardi! Who are you?

  Hibiscus: Hibiscus.

  Bacardi: Eye Piss Kiss?

  Hibiscus: Hibiscus.

  [Bacardi tries to walk over to Hibiscus but trips over her own feet, sending a splash of cider to the floor.]

  Bacardi: [delighted] I made a mess!

  Hibiscus: You are a mess.

  Bacardi: Kiss my astronaut!

  [She slaps her own rear. Clayton, sensing an impending catfight, approaches—but Jamarkus heads him off.]

  Jamarkus: Hello! I hope we can put that ugly election behind us. I’d like to be friends!

  Clayton: [ignoring his hand] Not if I can help it.

  Jamarkus: Sorry?

  Clayton: I’m not here to make friends. I’ll be throwing you under a bus the first chance I get.

  Hibiscus: Hey look, a walking cliché!

  Clayton: [rounding on her] Hey look, a homeless person! Ever heard of deodorant?

  Hibiscus: Deodorant is a capitalist construct designed to squash the inalienable rights of Mother Nature.

  Clayton: We’re gonna be locked in this flying soup can breathing the same air for weeks, maybe months. Did it not occur to you that the rest of us might not want to sample the festering fruits of what Mother Nature, in all her bacterial glory, can unleash upon the numerous pits and valleys of your disgusting body?

  Hibiscus: Sorry, but it’s my personal philosophy never to take seriously the opinions of people who pluck their eyebrows.

  Clayton: It’s called proper grooming, you derelict—

  Snout: [as he and Colonel Bacon approach] Howdy, friends!

  Jamarkus: Howdy, brother!

  Clayton: [rounding on Snout] No. No. We are officially dispensing with the howdys until someone explains to me what in heaven and hell’s name this fat, revolting thing is doing here.

  Snout: [extending his hand] The name’s Snout.

  Clayton: [ignoring his hand] Not you. Well . . . yes, you. But also that.

  Snout: Who, Colonel Bacon?

  Jamarkus: I think he’s cute!

  Hibiscus: And I appreciate your commitment to sustainable farming.

  Snout: Thanks, High Biscuits!

  Hibiscus: Hibiscus.

  [Colonel Bacon takes a whiff of Hibiscus, snorts, and runs away. Snout chases alter him.]

  Clayton: [to Hibiscus] Do you see what I’m saying? An actual pig is disgusted by you.

  Hibiscus: You’re the pig, one-percenter!

  Jamarkus: [pulling her away] I have an idea: let’s get you some delicious apple juice! Do you like apples?

  Hibiscus: I like the tragically minuscule fraction of our apple crops that aren’t riddled with pesticides.

  [Jamarkus escorts Hibiscus away, leaving Bacardi and Clayton alone.]

  Bacardi: She seems fun.

  [Clayton, clearly about to dispense a rude reply, instead takes note of the way Bacardi is sitting on the puffy Püffi chair and the manner in which it enhances her cleavage. He leans in as they sip from their flutes.]

  Clayton: Not as fun as you. Where are you from?

  Bacardi: Brooklyn, baby! You?

  Clayton: Los Angeles.

  Bacardi: That’s interesting.

  Clayton: Know what else is interesting? Once my trust fund kicks in, I’ll have a net worth of over ten million dollars.

  Bacardi: That’s funny, because I can tie a cherry stem into a knot with my tongue.

  Clayton: Cool, cool.

  [They assess each other.]

  Clayton: So . . . we’re probably gonna bang, right?

  Bacardi: [answer obscured by sound of champagne flute hitting her teeth as she vigorously nods]

  Source: Camera #2—Flight Deck

  Matt: Oh God. I’m not dreaming this, am I? We’re really in space?

  Louise: [smiling maniacally, eyes darting back and forth between the control panel and the Windows Window] Affirmative!

  Matt: Holy crap. [He puts his hands out, as if to balance himself.] The ship is moving. We’re rocking from side to side—can you feel that? Holy crap.

  Kaoru: {Do they expect us to believe that we are in space?} [gestures at the Windows Window] {This is clearly a computer screen.}

  Matt: Oh jeez, I’m sorry. You don’t speak English? You must be more terrified than I am.

  Kaoru: {I am fairly certain we are on a film set of some kind.}

  Matt: How are you so calm right now? Look at all these controls! How are we supposed to know how to use them?

  Kaoru: {Are these props meant to impress us?}

  Matt: Ooh, a cup holder!

  Kaoru: {None of these buttons are functional.} [poking at a joystick on the control panel] {This joystick does nothing.}

  Louise: [batting Kaoru’s hand away] Stop it! Chazz said not to touch anything! [squinting at one of the control panel’s gauges] The DV8 network indicator is lit. Guess that means they’re watching. [eagerly nodding toward window] But I bet not as closely as our new cosmic neighbors. Wherever they’re hiding.

  Matt: Oh God.

  Louise: Don’t worry. I bet they’re good guys. And if they’re bad guys, I’ll protect us. I brought something that can get us out of here in no time. What personal item did you bring?

  Matt: I didn’t get a chance to pack, so I . . . I grabbed the TV remote control from my hotel room.

  Louise: Oh. Well, worst-case scenario, that could certainly be used as a projectile. Might distract a Wingobian for a few seconds before it vaporizes you.

  Matt: Oh God. [breathing heavily] This is all a huge mistake. I’m not supposed to be here. I have to get off this ship!

  [He lunges for the I QUIT™ button, but Louise bats his hand away.]

  Louise: Are you out of your tree? We just got here!

  Matt: But I want to leave!

  Louise: [quieter] Hey, now. [She gently places her hand on his.] Give it a chance, okay? This is an amazing thing we’re doing. Don’t end it before it’s begun.

  Matt: [hesitates, then backs away from the flight deck] Okay. I’ll give it a chance.

  Louise: Good. Because I susp
ect we’ve drifted into quadrant J8043, where the z-coordinate for dark matter is counteracted by the q-coordinate for black hole probability, which, because Mercury is in retrograde, is currently holding somewhere around 5.2 quintips—

  Matt: What’s a quintip?

  Louise: [shaking her head] Poor Earthling. You’ve got a lot to learn.

  Source: Camera #3—Lünar Lounge

  [Nico stands by himself at the bar, sipping apple cider. Titania sidles up to him.]

  Titania: So what are you in for?

  [Blushing, Nico promptly gets tongue-tied and looks at the floor. Titania watches him, patient. After a few seconds, he looks up and stammers a reply.]

  Nico: Token orphan. Bonus points for being ethnic. You?

  Titania: Token Portlandian, I guess? Bonus points for the criminal record.

  Nico: Ah.

  Titania: They sure know how to pick ’em, huh?

  [They survey the others.]

  Titania: This is going to be one dumpster fire of a show.

  [Nico nods.]

  Titania: Look on the bright side, though. Some lucky therapists out there are going to make a fortune on these nutballs.

  Nico: Good thing you seem normal.

  Titania: Good thing seeming is believing.

  [They survey each other.]

  Titania: I’m Titania.

  Nico: Nico.

  [They clink glasses.]

  By this time, the full hour has elapsed. After a few parting shots of the Laika grandly soaring over the Earth, Chazz returns to wrap things up.

  [CUT TO: Chazz, in the spotlight, as credits roll across the bottom of the screen]

  Chazz: That’s all we have time for, America. On behalf of myself and the team at DV8, we want to thank you for watching tonight’s broadcast—all 307 million of you, my sources estimate! From here on out, I’ll be handing over the reins to the Spacetronauts, popping in only to say hello during the live portion at the end of every episode. Be sure to tune in same time next week as our fearless Spacetronauts settle into their new life onboard the ship. Who will get along? Who will become mortal enemies? Who will be the first to clog the one and only toilet?

  But in the meantime—can’t get enough of Waste of Space? Head over to DV8.com to watch the live stream onboard the Laika for all the laughs, danger, fights, and action you can’t get anywhere else!

  Until next week—Catchphrase forever!

  [Due to improper timing, Chazz unwittingly has about ten more seconds of live television to kill, so the camera keeps rolling.]

  Chazz: [to producer] What kind of a catchphrase is that?

  DV8 Producer: [off-mike] Yeah, our bad. That was a placeholder from an earlier draft of the script. The writers were supposed to come up with something cool and memorable, but I guess they never did.

  Chazz: Goddammit, what am I paying you people for—

  [MUSIC CUE: “Intergalactic” by the Beastie Boys]

  [END OF EPISODE]

  Online

  CHAZZ’S ESTIMATE OF 307 MILLION VIEWERS IS ABSURD (for comparison, the Super Bowl, usually the most watched television program of the year in the United States, gets an average of 100 million), but what’s more absurd is that he isn’t wrong in terms of its groundbreaking impact. Around 20 million people across America tune in that night, television and online combined, making the premiere episode of Waste of Space one of the most watched pilots in recent memory.

  What’s more, a substantial number of those eyeballs migrate to the 24/7 online feed immediately following the broadcast. All through the night and into early the next morning, America continues to wolf down every second of its new spacy sweethearts, with nine camera feeds displayed in a three-by-three grid on both DV8.com and the DV8 app—an intergalactic Orwellian Brady Brunch taking up residence on countless computer and phone screens across America.

  And the cast doesn’t disappoint. Once Chazz signs off and the Spacetronauts are left alone for the first time, things go as one might expect things to go when ten teenagers are randomly thrust into close proximity with one another: messily.

  Item: Transcript of video recording—24/7 online feed

  Source: Camera #6—Bathroom

  Date: January 28, 2016

  Clayton: Your pig took a shit in my shoe!

  Snout: Oh, I’m mighty sorry, sir. He does that sometimes. Still broken up about our abducted tractor, I reckon. Hey, if you happen to see it floating around out there in space, let me—

  Clayton: These shoes were given to me by the Prince of Monaco. I will end you!

  Bacardi: [words slurring] Oh fun, are we yelling? YELLING!

  Clayton: The pig shit in my shoe!

  Bacardi: Ohnosorry, that was me.

  Clayton: What the—are you drunk?

  Bacardi: Maaaaybe.

  Clayton: How are you drunk?

  Bacardi: I raided the minibar in my hotel room and smuggled some little bottles of vodka onboard. Don’t tell anyone shhhh. [takes a swig]

  Clayton: Where did you hide them?

  Bacardi: [side-eye] I’d rather not say.

  Source: Camera #7—Confessional Closet

  Kaoru: {I thought this was the bathroom. I have made an error.

  I think I am supposed to look into the camera and deliver my emotion.

  My emotion is that I am displeased.

  I visited Los Angeles to compete in a judo tournament, and I got separated from my team while we were touring a local mall. I asked an adult for assistance, and the adult put me into a van and locked me in a hotel room. Now I am not sure where I am. It appears to be an interactive real-life video game of some kind. But I would prefer to be practicing my grip drills, not poking at inoperative buttons.

  I do not feel well. I normally eat nutritious foods, which the American diet is not. It is worse inside this fraudulent spaceship. I looked in the kitchen, but there is little hope there; the food is barely food. If the boredom does not kill me, the dehydrated macaroni and cheese will.

  My peers are strange. They are also delusional if they think that we are really in space. The girl with the large breasts is ostentatious and bold. The boy and his pig smell bad but mean well. The girl with the almost-white shaved hair is troubled but smart—maybe smarter than our elected leader. The skater boy seems shy but nice, and so does the girl with glasses, when she is not in her own world, talking to herself. The rich boy makes me uncomfortable. The hipster girl is dumb. The boy with no finger is confused.

  And I? Am displeased.}

  Source: Camera #2—Flight Deck

  [Hibiscus is nibbling at a mushroom with a singular focus. She offers some to Matt, who refuses, looking predictably terrified. Titania is watching from the flight deck while Louise is kneeling on the swivel seat next to her, facing the Windows Window.]

  Louise: If my calculations are correct, we should be passing by the axiom-gamma-releasing station right about . . . now.

  Titania: Is that a good thing?

  Louise: [unable to contain her joy] It’s not a bad thing!

  Titania: You sound like you know what you’re talking about.

  [The smile falls off Louise’s face.]

  Louise: [quietly] Are you making fun of me?

  Titania: No. Why?

  Louise: You sounded sarcastic.

  Titania: I get that a lot. It’s just how my voice sounds.

  [Louise still looks unsure.]

  Titania: I swear, I wasn’t mocking you.

  Louise: Sorry. I thought—I’ve heard about girls like you—

  Titania: Girls like me?

  Louise: Yeah. The klepdugs.

  Titania: The what now?

  Louise: The ones who smoke and drink and do drugs and other illegal things.

  Titania: With all due respect—[points at Hibiscus] she’s the one who is doing drugs at this very moment.

  Louise: Yeah, but you—your shaved head. Your tough body language. You seem like a real . . . [lowers her voice, as if she’s unaccustomed to swearing
] badass.

  Titania: I’m not, though.

  [Louise knits her brow.]

  Titania: Is this the first time you’ve interacted with such a . . . diverse group of people, Louise?

  Louise: In person, yeah. Most of my friends are online.

  Titania: This might sound hypocritical, considering the setting we currently find ourselves in—but in the real world, people don’t fall so easily into the categories that a show like this assigns them to.

  Louise: I do. I’m a nerd, and nerds are like catnip to klepdugs. Or so I’ve been led to believe. I was just being preemptive.

  Titania: I won’t clobber you. Promise.

  [Titania gets up to leave, giving Louise a friendly wink. Louise watches her go, then whispers to herself.]

  Louise: Further research is required.

  Source: Camera #6—Bathroom

  [The back legs of Colonel Bacon are kicking wildly, as he has become lodged between the wall and the toilet]

  Snout: Oh, cripes. [calling out to group] Little help?

  Source: Camera #8—Bedroom

  [Nico has staked an early claim on a top bunk. He is lying on the bed and talking into his GoPro camera.]

  Hi Mom. Hi Dad.

  I AM IN SPACE.

  I can’t charge the battery, and I don’t know how long it’s going to last, so I’m trying not to use it much. But I’ll do what I can.

  They put us in spacesuits. Then the shuttle shook so hard it felt like my brain was going to spurt out of my ears. Then there was a pull of gravity, and then—

  Then it stopped. First bummer of the galaxy so far: no weightlessness. They said they’ve come up with new technologies that’ll keep us from floating. Which takes away most of the fun, in my opinion.

  Not that I’d be having gobs of fun anyway. I’m too scared to do much of anything. Or talk to anyone. Or, like, breathe.

  But whatever.

  This is still amazing.

  The rest of the cast, though—major train wreck. Plane crash. Iceberg collision. Hindenburg explosion. These kids are insane—

  [There is a clearing of a throat. Nico turns around to find Clayton leaning in the bedroom doorway.]