Waste of Space

by Gina Damico

  Item: Transcript of video recording—RAW, UNAIRED FOOTAGE

  Source: Camera #2—Flight Deck

  Date: February 8, 2016

  Matt: But I can’t take any more waiting!

  Bacardi: They’re gonna kill anotherone of us!

  Clayton: What are you talking about, you lunatics? Everything is part of the show. Nobody’s dead! This is all part of their plan!

  Snout: Then what happened to High Biscuits?

  Bacardi: Eye Piss Kiss.

  Titania: Hibiscus.

  Clayton: She’s fine. I’ll bet you a cool five thou she’s back home, happily snorting a handful of mushrooms right now.

  Snout: But—

  Clayton: No buts! They’re not going to let us die on national television!

  Matt: But how do you know?

  Jamarkus: Because he’s one of them.

  [They all turn to look at Jamarkus.]

  Clayton: Excuse me?

  Jamarkus: [to Clayton] None of the rest of us are so confident that we’re safe, because we, unlike you, are completely in the dark. None of us have a “cool five thou” to bet against you, because we, unlike you, are not rich. And none of us have ever uttered the words “Uncle Chazz,” because we, unlike you, are not related to him.

  [Heads swivel back toward Clayton.]

  Clayton: I hope you’re not implying what I think you’re implying, Captain America. I had to bite, scratch, and claw my way here like the rest of you.

  Jamarkus: Then tell us about your audition, Clayton. Where was it?

  Clayton: At a . . . studio.

  Jamarkus: Oh? Not a mall? I believe the rest of us auditioned at malls, correct?

  [Everyone nods.]

  Clayton: Oh, you mean the first audition. Yeah, that was at a mall.

  Jamarkus: I see. So your second audition was at a studio.

  Clayton: Yeah.

  Jamarkus: Quick show of hands—how many of you got a second audition?

  [No hands go up.]

  Jamarkus: Interesting.

  Clayton: Look, you got something to say to me, you can come over here and say it to my face.

  Jamarkus: No, thank you. I can smell the nepotism from here.

  Bacardi: [whispering to Titania] Nepo-what?

  Titania: [whispering back] It means he got picked for the show because he’s Chazz Young’s nephew.

  Bacardi: [gasp-burp]

  Clayton: You know what? Yes. I’m on this show because I got special treatment. You know why? Because I’m special. Do you know how much these sneakers cost? More than you spend on clothes in a year. Wanna guess who gave me this watch? Her name starts with Angelina and ends with Jolie. And no longer Pitt. My parents have given so much money to the Smithsonian that they’re naming their next wing after us. The fact that for the last twelve days I’ve even been breathing the same air as the rest of you human trash barges would be laughable if it weren’t so vile. You! [He points at Louise.] Where’d you get those pants?

  Louise: Kmart.

  Clayton: Gross. You! [points at Snout] What do your parents do for a living?

  Snout: They’re farmers.

  Clayton: Disgusting. Who knows what sort of peasant diseases are burrowing into my lungs as we speak? As soon as I get home, I’m spending a week in my hyperbaric chamber and scrubbing away every last skin cell that came in contact with you bottom feeders. I’m the only one who truly deserves to be here. I deserve to be the first human being to achieve interstellar travel. I deserve to be the sole winner of this acid trip of a game show. And if you think for one second I’m going to let any of you cheat me out of it . . . believe me when I say I have ways of stopping you.

  [An uncomfortable silence takes hold, broken only when Bacardi points out the Windows Window.]

  Bacardi: The thing’s not there anymore.

  [another beat]

  Nico: Maybe it was a trick of the light.

  Louise: [eyes bright and hopeful] Or maybe it was Lord Balway Galway!

  Titania: [peering out the window] Whatever it was, it’s gone now.

  Clayton: Well, if it comes back—

  [He reaches behind his back and pulls out a shiny chrome-plated handgun.]

  Clayton: I’ll be ready for it.

  [Everyone stops, frozen in horrified stances. Clayton storms out of the room.]

  Bacardi: [gasp-burp]

  * * *

  Item: Transcript of audio recording

  Source: Chazz’s cell phone

  Date: February 8, 2016

  DV8 #1: Chazz, Clayton is becoming a big problem.

  DV8 #2: What are we going to do about him? He’s ruining the integrity of the show!

  Chazz: I know, but I’m up shit creek when it comes to Clayton. He sort of has something on me that I’d rather not be made public. So I have to keep him happy.

  DV8 #1: He doesn’t look happy! He looks as though he’s going to bring the whole thing crashing down at any moment!

  DV8 #2: How did he get a gun onboard in the first place?

  Chazz: I didn’t bother to check his bag because I didn’t think he’d do anything to jeopardize his shot on the show! You guys don’t know what it’s been like—this manipulative little cretin’s been on me for years. Major inferiority complex. Three older brothers—NFL quarterback, decorated Marine, and CEO of a startup valued at $50 million—and, you know, me. The kid is obsessed with being famous for something. Anything. Doesn’t care what it is, as long as he comes in first.

  DV8 #1: But he’s not going to come in first.

  Chazz: He doesn’t know that.

  DV8 #2: What does he know? How much did you tell him about the reality of the project? Does he think he’s in space?

  Chazz: He does. As far as I know.

  DV8 #1: But he also believes that he can be rescued by Unky Chazz, that Unky Chazz will never let anything happen to him. And if he believes that, the rest of the crew will believe it too.

  DV8 #2: They just witnessed one of their own being flung out of the ship. Fear and paranoia is at an all-time high. But the more this brat shoots off his mouth, the quicker we’re going to lose that fear!

  DV8 #1: And before you know it, all tension and conflict and watchability is sucked out of the ship faster than it would be in the vacuum of real space!

  Chazz: Dudes! You’re not telling me anything I don’t already know! You think I wanted to cast him? You think I want to defend him? It’s playing right into his hands—obviously he knew he could get away with the gun because he knew I’d protect him. Trust me—he’s way smarter than any of us are giving him credit for. You don’t think he’s got other schemes in the works here? You don’t think this is all going exactly the way he planned it? Of course it is! But we can’t do anything about it!

  [pause]

  DV8 #1: We had a thought.

  DV8 #2: We could eliminate him next, regardless of the vote results.

  Chazz: Absolutely not. Think of what he’ll tell the media!

  DV8 #2: But he could shoot someone!

  Chazz: Ha. We should be so lucky.

  [shocked pause]

  Chazz: Unless—

  DV8 #1: Yes? We’re open to anything.

  Chazz: Unless we double down on the elimination and play it up as a triumph. He’s been playing the villain angle, right? He knows that fights and drama always get the most airtime, so he just keeps giving the audience what he thinks it wants—and he’s right! He hasn’t even come close to losing the vote! But if we lie and tell him that the vote was overwhelming, that he’s the least-liked, most-hated reality-show contestant in history, maybe he’ll see that as a win?

  DV8 #2: I don’t know, Chazz. Someone as shallow and needy as Clayton wouldn’t react kindly to learning that he’s lost a nationwide popularity contest. Not unless he gets something out of it.

  Chazz: Like his own spinoff.

  DV8 #1: Um. Seriously?

  Chazz: Look, I despise the kid more than anyone, but he’s what our audience is buzzing
about. Villains and bullies are the ones who get all the attention. People love him.

  DV8 #1: Love to hate him.

  Chazz: Same thing.

  DV8 #1: So what are you suggesting?

  Chazz: We eliminate him. He’ll be pissed, but not after I offer him his own show, which he’ll definitely take. He’ll get what he always wanted, and it’ll be another ratings slam dunk for us. Win-win.

  DV8 #1: That . . . could work. At least this way, no one gets hurt.

  DV8 #2: In theory. You really think it’s a good idea to spring elimination on a mentally unstable teenager and hope for the best?

  Chazz: Yep. Drama.

  DV8 #1: But—

  Chazz: Sorry, I got another call coming in. Later hater.

  DV8 #2: Chazz? Chazz!

  [end of call]

  * * *

  Item: Transcript of video recording—RAW, UNAIRED FOOTAGE

  Source: Camera #7—Confessional Closet

  Date: February 8, 2016

  Jamarkus: So I’m thinking what we saw pass by was some sort of quantum abnormality, perhaps a rogue black hole . . .

  [Jamarkus trails off. He makes sure the door is locked. Then, as quietly as possible, he slips one of the soundproof panels off the wall, reaches into a hidden compartment, pulls out a bulky satellite phone, and dials. The voice on the other end is loud enough to be picked up by the Confessional Closets microphones.]

  Chazz: What are you doing? I told you never to call me on that phone unless it was an absolute emergency!

  Jamarkus: This is an emergency! Your psychotic nephew has a gun!

  Chazz: I understand your concern, Jamarkus, I do. But trust me when I say that we’re doing everything we can to fix it.

  Jamarkus: You better be. Otherwise the deal’s off. No amount of money is worth getting shot at!

  Chazz: Of course not, of course not. [laying it on thick] Hey, real strong work on that dark and sinister enemy stuff, by the way.

  Jamarkus: [anger fading] Really? I’m not sure they bought it—

  Chazz: Oh, they did, they did. You’re doing an incredible job. I knew it the second I saw your audition—I said, there’s my ringer. He’s the one who’s going to sell this. Smart, good-looking, heroic, and a National Aeronautic Scholarship finalist? He’s practically an astronaut already!

  Jamarkus: [muttering] The gayness and blackness probably didn’t hurt either.

  Chazz: They sure didn’t! It’s like watching a master craftsman. Every time those kids suspect something, you’re right there to subtly guide them back from the edge. Those evasive maneuvers on the asteroid attack? Perfection, Jamarkus. Perfection.

  Jamarkus: Yeah?

  Chazz: ImmerseFX said it was the best commercial they’ve ever aired. Well worth the millions of dollars they’ve sunk into this project. Think of the endorsement deals you’ll get when this is all over! Bet you’ll get a nice bonus from Heavenly Hot Tubs, too.

  Jamarkus: I better. That slogan was the dumbest thing that ever came out of my mouth.

  Chazz: The point is, you’re doing great. And you’re going to keep doing great. MIT will be lucky to have you.

  Jamarkus: That isn’t a done deal yet. Acceptance doesn’t mean anything if I can’t pay for it.

  Chazz: Oh, you’ll be able to pay for it. Just stay the course, my friend.

  Jamarkus: How am I supposed to do that with a gun to my head?

  Chazz: Again with the gun thing? What did I just say? We’re handling it. In the meantime, do what you’ve been doing and keep everyone calm. They look up to you. They trust you. Make them feel safe.

  Jamarkus: But—

  Chazz: Goddammit, kid! All you have to do is spout a few empty promises and play a giant version of Space Invaders and act like our sponsors’ products are the best thing ever to grace God’s green earth while we eliminate everyone else until you emerge as the sole winner! We’re literally handing you a million dollars! The least you can do is do what I say!

  Jamarkus: [shaken] Okay. You’re right. Sorry, Chazz.

  Chazz: Whatever it takes to make them feel safe. Whatever it takes. And keep up those “Stellars” too.

  Jamarkus: Right. Got it.

  [Jamarkus ends the call, puts the phone back into the wall, and replaces the soundproof panel. He swallows and takes a moment to compose himself. Affixing a winning smile on his face, he stands up and walks out of the room.]

  * * *

  Item: Transcript of video broadcast

  [continued]

  [START OF ACT THREE]

  [IMAGE: Chazz, in the studio]

  Chazz: Hey, America! Time to check in with our friends live onboard the spaceplane. Hey, Spacetronauts!

  Source: Camera #4—Lünar Lounge

  [wide, awkward shot of the cast, looking more demoralized than ever]

  Chazz: [voiceover] How’s it going up there?

  Louise: Okay.

  Matt: Abysmal.

  Jamarkus: Stellar!

  [A graphic accompanied by the words “Brought to you by Stellar Acne Cream!” flashes across the bottom of the screen.]

  Chazz: [voiceover as the music begins to swell] I’m afraid we don’t have the element of surprise this time, so I’m sure this is the moment you’ve all been dreading. Regardless, one of you received the fewest number of votes this week, and will be leaving the spaceplane tonight.

  [Music climaxes.]

  And that person is . . .

  [Music drops out.]

  Clayton. Clayton, you are a waste of space.

  Clayton: What?

  [Without missing a beat, Clayton draws his gun. Chaos breaks out on the ship. Some of the kids run for cover, while others remain frozen in fear. Most of them are screaming. Meanwhile, the airlock door has opened and the Enormous Robotic Arm has swung out into the Lünar Lounge.

  Its claw yawns open, moving in to grab Clayton.

  Clayton cocks the gun and fires it.]

  Jamarkus: Nooooo!

  [Jamarkus lunges at Clayton, knocking him off balance. The gun discharges again, punching a hole in the hot-tub window. Water starts gushing into the bar area, and as Clayton falls to the ground, Jamarkus unwittingly moves into the spot where Clayton just stood—causing the Enormous Robotic Arm to clamp around Jamarkus’s waist instead.]

  Jamarkus: [startled] What? Wait. No!

  [The chaos escalates. The Spacetronauts are uncontrollably running and flailing about the cabin. Nico and Louise join Kaoru on the flight deck, followed by Titania, her hands clamped over her ears to muffle the beeping. The others try to pull Jamarkus out of the Enormous Robotic Arm’s grasp, but it’s no use. It yanks him out of their clutches and hauls him off into the airlock. With a pneumatic swish, the door seals him inside.]

  [CUT TO: Chazz, in the studio. His face is ashen.]

  Chazz: I—I’m sorry about that, America. I’m not sure what happened. Rest assured that all of us here at DV8 will get to the bottom of this, and fast. Until then—sit tight. Catchphrase forever.

  [MUSIC CUE: “Oops. . . . I Did It Again” by Britney Spears]

  [END OF EPISODE]

  Obsession

  Item: Online article

  Source: ViralLoad

  Date: February 12, 2016

  OMG

  [GIF of Oprah yelling]

  WTF

  [GIF of screaming goat]

  AND I’M JUST LIKE

  [GIF of panda falling out of tree]

  * * *

  After the airing of Episode #3, America once again loses its collective mind. Speculation abounds, conspiracy theories emerge, and rumors are proliferated with reckless abandon, but no one learns the official (read: fictional) account of what happened onboard the Laika until The Perky Paisley Show airs the following night.

  But it all has to be scripted out first. Exactly eleven hours after Episode #3 airs, a purple windowless van pulls into the ambulance bay of Cedars-Sinai Medical Center. The patient is admitted under a false name and given a luxury suite with
a fabulous view of the Hollywood sign.

  Item: Transcript of audio recording

  Source: Chazz’s cell phone

  Date: February 12, 2016

  Jamarkus: What the hell, Chazz?

  Chazz: Calm down, Jamarkus. Let me explain. I’m recording this call, by the way—

  Jamarkus: Why?

  Chazz: I record all my calls. You never know when you’ll need a little leverage. Where are you right now?

  Jamarkus: You know exactly where I am! A hospital! As opposed to on the television show that you promised I’d win.

  Chazz: Hey, I’m not the one who jumped into the gaping claw of the elimination robot! What the hell were you thinking?

  Jamarkus: I was making them feel safe. Like you told me to!

  Chazz: Yeah, well, I’ve got a lot of explaining to do to our sponsors now, and it’s all your fault.

  Jamarkus: Might want to save some explaining for the viewing public after I go on Perky’s show . . . and tell her everything.

  Chazz: Oh, I don’t think you’ll be doing that.

  Jamarkus: Why not?

  Chazz: You’ll be appearing on Perky Paisley’s show tonight, all right. But only as your Captain America act. You will smile and be charming and act humble and heroic and shit. You will not utter a peep about what you were recruited for. You will not rat on DV8. You will not sell out our sponsors. You will continue to peddle the story we have crafted for you, and then-and only then—will you get paid. And you will still get paid, Jamarkus. As long as you behave yourself.

  [pause]

  Jamarkus: I understand.

  Chazz: Good. I knew you’d be reasonable.

  Jamarkus: So . . . what should I say?

  Chazz: We’re drafting a narrative right now, should have it to you soon. Feel free to embellish if that’s what you need to do to sell it. Trust me—once you get going, it’s impossible to stop.

  Jamarkus: And then what? You shoot me back to the Laika to save everyone?

  Chazz: No, no. You’ve done enough.

  Jamarkus: But—then how will I win the million dollars?