Waste of Space

by Gina Damico

  Louise: Gukadia, maybe. The findings from the Interstellar Probing Squadron found evidence of gravitational sinks there. Or maybe we fell into a wormhole! Or! OR! Maybe we’re caught in a tractor beam. The double shwumpy noise was when we got caught in it, then the shaking was when they reeled us in, then the weightlessness was them securing us inside their warship somewhere in the Jjesibian Nebula! It makes perfect sense!

  [They blink at her.]

  Nico: Look, the floating thing was extremely weird. But I think we should try to stay calm before we jump to any conclusions. If anything, we—

  Bacardi: My ears hurt.

  Nico: Huh?

  Bacardi: [working her jaw around] My ears. Theypopped when we floated.

  Snout: Mine did too.

  Nico: [looking around] Did everyone’s?

  [They all nod.]

  Louise: See? [smirking] Tractor beam.

  No one has anything else to say to that. As if collectively realizing that nothing else is going to get solved that night, or perhaps out of exhaustion from the ordeal, they all start drifting into the bedroom. Clayton is already curled into himself in his bunk, his only movement that of pulling the blanket over his head when the rest enter. No one has to share a bed anymore, so the cast members each get into their own bunks and fall asleep.

  Except for Nico, who goes off in search of Titania.

  * * *

  Source: Camera #7—Confessional Closet

  Time: 10:31 p.m.

  Nico: [entering room and sitting on floor] Are you okay? You disappeared.

  Titania: I know, I’m sorry. [She keeps smiling, then trying not to, then smiling again.] I—after we floated, I . . . felt something. Almost spiritual? I can’t explain it. But yeah, I’m okay. Are you?

  Nico: As much as someone who just spontaneously levitated can be, I guess.

  Titania: [distracted] Right.

  Nico: It’s like, here I am, I’m thinking one way, then something else happens, and then I start thinking five ways different from the first. I’m maybe eighty percent sure we’re not in space, then it goes up to ninety-nine, but now with those wonky noises and the shaking and the floating—the percentage changes all over again. It’s hard to know what to believe anymore.

  Titania: [still distracted] Right.

  Nico: What do you think is going on?

  [longish pause]

  Titania: I don’t know.

  [Nico studies her.]

  Nico: Are you sure you’re okay? Your face is doing some crazy things.

  [She blinks hard, snapping herself out of it. She gives him a grin.]

  Titania: I feel crazy. But good crazy.

  [Nico lets out a small laugh.]

  Titania: What?

  Nico: This is what you wanted, isn’t it? For us to keep exploring?

  Titania: Yeah. I guess it is. [She nods at the door.] How’s everyone doing out there?

  Nico: Clayton is—I think he’s losing it. Louise too. Snout and Bacardi . . . who knows what they’re thinking. If they’re thinking anything at all. And we can’t trust anyone at DV8 either. Wonder what they’ll say when they restore contact with us.

  Titania: If they restore contact with us.

  Nico: It’s gotta be soon, right? Tomorrow. Or . . . or do you think we’re really cut off?

  Titania: You want my honest opinion?

  Nico: Yes.

  Titania: I think we’re really cut off.

  * * *

  DV8 scrambles.

  Chazz Young connives.

  NASAW conspires.

  America holds its breath.

  And through it all, the cast members remain ignorant

  protected

  isolated

  drifting deeper

  and deeper

  into the depths of uncertainty.

  Item: Transcript of video recording

  Source: Dashboard camera, DV8 Company Van

  Date: February 19, 2016

  Time: 3:28 a.m.

  [IMAGE: Night. Headlights illuminate a speeding ribbon of road. Camera picks up audio of conversation on speakerphone.]

  Boris: I don’t know. Pancakes?

  Annette: I made pancakes last week.

  Boris: Oh, right. How about sausage?

  Annette: Sausage gives you gas.

  Boris: Look, I don’t know why this always has to be such an in-depth discussion.

  Annette: Because I want it to be something that you like! You come home so tired and spaced out from that awful overnight drive, the least I can do is give you a warm, delicious breakfast to—

  Boris: AGGUGHH

  Annette: Boris?

  Boris: GUGUAAAH

  Annette: Boris? What’s wrong?

  Boris: GGGAUUUUHHH

  Annette: Honey, hold tight! I’ll call for help!

  [Five seconds pass. The strangled noises cease.]

  [Fainter voices emerge from the background.]

  Matt: Oh God. Is he dead?

  Kaoru: {He is only unconscious.}

  Matt: He has a pulse. I think he blacked out. [exhales forcefully] Holy crap. Are you a trained assassin or something?

  Kaoru: {I have never delivered a chokehold to a stranger before. There is one for the bucket list.}

  Matt: One second I’m unconscious, the next I wake up rattling around in the back of a windowless van, the next I look up and you’re strangling the guy who stun-gunned us—

  Kaoru: {It is a good thing the muscle spasms convulsing through his body caused his foot to stomp on the brake.}

  Matt: What if he had crashed the car? We could have been killed!

  Kaoru: {I am glad we are off that spaceship. We could have been killed.}

  Matt: Where are we? It’s too dark to—Hang on.

  Kaoru: {Please do not get out of the car.}

  [Matt appears in the frame, illuminated by the headlights.]

  Matt: Oh God!

  Kaoru: {Please get back in the car.}

  Matt: [looking around] We’re in a desert! How did we end up in a desert?

  Kaoru: {We have been in a desert this whole time.}

  [Matt gets back into the car.]

  Matt: Where was he taking us? Did we crash-land here? Are we on Mars?

  Kaoru: {Judging by how long it took them to transport us here in the first place and the fact that it is currently three thirty in the morning, I believe Los Angeles is roughly 500 miles due west.}

  Matt: No, of course we’re not on Mars. Mars has no air. Or windowless vans. I’m an idiot.

  Kaoru: {We should keep going forward to California and find a responsible adult. But I do not know how to drive.)

  Matt: Okay. Okay, I have an idea. I’ll drive back in the direction we came from. Maybe we’ll find someone who can help us there.

  Kaoru: [in English] This is a fine kettle of fish.

  * * *

  Overnight and into the next morning, the public-relations arm of DV8 struggles to stay afloat in the resulting deluge of questions from the media. Even major networks—who, up until now, have remained distant and condescending when it comes to the maverick network gobbling up all their ratings—jump into the fray.

  The PR team admirably evades the public’s questions, giving vague and slightly provocative answers, as if they know something that the rest of the world doesn’t and the media hoopla explosion is all part of their master plan—all while remaining as in the dark as Chazz and the rest of the DV8 team. But they’re the ones who know how to put the best spin on the situation. By the time viewers wake up the next morning to consult their opinionators of choice, the verdict has already been rendered that the cutoff was a publicity stunt, that the signal loss is yet another cog in the clockwork masterpiece narrative that Chazz Young is so deftly crafting, and that both the Shwump and levitation trick have been engineered solely to entice the world to keep watching, watching, watching.

  Item: Online article

  Source: ViralLoad

  Time: 7:39 a.m.

 
They’ve done it again!

  DV8 continues to break ground on the most fascinating entertainment in years. Cutting their latest episode short—by eight minutes!—in the guise of losing the satellite feed is yet another notch in the epic, diamond-studded belt that is this show. I can’t believe we have to wait a whole week to find out what’s happening up there in space right now!!

  I just have so many questions. What caused those two explodey noises right before the end of the episode? Were they explosions at all? Could they be retaliation for Jamarkus’s attack on the “dark and sinister” enemy? Or is this a new threat?

  AND DID MY EYES DECEIVE ME OR DID THOSE SPACETRONAUTS FLOAT?

  Wherever this is going, it’s amazing. So-called technical difficulties coupled with that trademark flying-by-the-seat-of-their-sequined-pants DV8 attitude makes for fascinating television. How much of this was planned? How much of it is master puppeteer Chazz Young gone mental at the controls, laughing maniacally as he pulls the strings? Does it even matter?

  This reviewer doesn’t think so. As long as DV8 continues to blur the line between fantasy and reality, I’m going to keep watching.

  * * *

  Back at DV8 headquarters, things are getting sticky. By 8:00 a.m. Chazz Young still hasn’t come into the office; paparazzi photos show him lounging by the pool at his mansion in the Hollywood Hills, his puggles floating by on an inflatable doghouse.

  Item: Transcript of audio recording

  Source: Chazz’s cell phone

  Time: 8:02 a.m.

  DV8: What’s our current status, Chazz?

  Chazz: No change.

  DV8: I know you said we should wait this out, but I don’t think that’s going to work for much longer. You need to give us some direction here.

  Chazz: Not yet. You guys are blowing this way out of proportion. Boris should be arriving with Matt and Kaoru soon—we’ll find out from him what went down and go from there. I don’t know why he isn’t answering his phone, but—

  DV8: Chazz, no. Whatever it was that happened, it’s now clear that NASAW has gone on lockdown and is no longer willing to communicate with us. This has essentially turned into a hostage situation!

  Chazz: Hostage situations make excellent television.

  [pause]

  DV8: Are you serious?

  Chazz: All I’m saying is that it might behoove us to simply sit back and document this thing until it reaches its inevitable conclusion, then retrieve the footage and edit it into a movie. I’ve been wanting to break into the feature film biz for a while now. Maybe this is my chance! I mean—DV8’s chance.

  DV8: Chazz. Tell me you’re not suggesting that we leave those kids to their own devices, at the mercy of those deranged scientists who are performing who knows what kind of sick experiments on them.

  Chazz: Hey, whatever they’re doing can’t be any sicker than what we were doing. Those Instigating Plot Points were paying off like gangbusters until—

  DV8: Until NASAW went off script and broke the laws of gravity! Don’t you see the predicament this puts us in? We can’t rescue them without breaking the illusion that they’re in space—the media’s breathing down our necks on that front, watching every move we make, and it’s only going to get worse. But we also can’t give NASAW free rein to do whatever they want to those kids!

  Chazz: Why not?

  [pause]

  DV8: Here is what we propose. Our team is already on its way out to the soundstage. They demand to be let in, then they try to negotiate with NASAW.

  Chazz: And if that doesn’t work?

  DV8: Then we get the police involved.

  Chazz: No. No law enforcement. Unless . . .

  DV8: Unless what?

  Chazz: Nothing. Let me know how the team makes out. And don’t you dare call the authorities—that’s my call to make, and I’ll make it only when necessary.

  DV8: What are you going to be doing in the meantime?

  Chazz: What I do best.

  DV8: What is that?

  [end of call]

  * * *

  Morning comes to the Laika. When the lights turn on and the occupants of the bedroom are illuminated, Clayton is not among them—but no one takes much notice of this at first. Snout, Louise, and Titania head into the bathroom while Bacardi stays in bed and Nico talks to his camera.

  Item: Transcript of video recording

  Source: Nico’s camera

  Battery charge: 40%

  Time: 8:30 a.m.

  Hi Mom. Hi Dad.

  I can’t talk long. I’m at 40 percent, and if this is the only functioning camera left on this ship, it might be a good idea to conserve the battery in case anything horrible happens.

  Which, given the events of last night, is entirely possible.

  I don’t know what’s happening. But I’ll say this: there’s a purple blob on the LCD screen of this camera right now. It wasn’t there yesterday. And it took me three tries to turn it on. I don’t know of anything that could cause electronics to malfunction like that, but . . .

  Anyway, I better go. I’m now at—

  Whoa.

  Now I’m at 41 percent.

  How is that possible?

  Item: Transcript of video recording—RAW, UNAIRED FOOTAGE

  Source: Camera #8—Bedroom

  Time: 8:34 a.m.

  [Frowning, Nico puts away his camera, gets up from his mattress, and assesses the room. Bacardi is the only one left, sprawled out across the big bed.]

  Nico: Hey. [giving her a gentle nudge] Bacardi. Time to wake up.

  [Bacardi doesn’t move.]

  Nico: [nudging her harder] Bacardi? You okay?

  [Nothing.]

  Nico: [mildly panicked now] Hey, wake up! Bacardi! Can you hear me?

  [She makes a noise not unlike that of an injured elephant, then rolls over, opens her eyes, and looks at him.]

  Bacardi: Heythere, sexypants. [tugs at her shirt] Wanna see what’s in my space bra?

  Nico: No, stop. [He stops her hand.] You don’t have to do that.

  Bacardi: [rubbing her eyes] I know, I know. You got a thing with Titania going on.

  Nico: What? No, I don’t.

  Bacardi: Psfff. Right.

  [She blinks each eye, one at a time.]

  Nico: Are you all right?

  Bacardi: Yeah. Just a little fuzzy in the brainspace.

  Nico: We all are. I don’t think I slept. Kept thinking we were going to implode at any minute.

  Bacardi: Yeah. It’s scary. [reaches for a Slom bottle on the nightstand] But nothing a liter of vodka can’t fix—

  Nico: [pulling it out of her reach] You think that maybe you’ve had enough?

  Bacardi: Enough of what?

  Nico: Like, every substance onboard this ship?

  [She mulls this over]

  Bacardi: Nah.

  Nico: Well, I don’t want you to die.

  Bacardi: Psf. I’m not gonna die. Maybe from starvation or from scientist attacks. But not from liquids.

  Nico: The liquids aren’t doing you any favors.

  Bacardi: The liquids are the only things that can reliably make me happy.

  Nico: That is . . . a very sad thing to say.

  Bacardi: Yeah.

  Nico: Is it true?

  [Bacardi hesitates. When she speaks, she sounds demonstrably more lucid.]

  Bacardi: Be honest, Nico. Do you think we’re still on TV?

  Nico: Not really.

  [She reaches for the bottle.]

  Nico: [pulls it away again] Bacardi—

  Bacardi: Give it to me!

  [She yanks it out of his hand. She looks at it, then pours the rest out onto the mattress.]

  Bacardi: All gone.

  Nico: Okay. Well, good. I’m . . . proud of you.

  Bacardi: [sarcastically] Thanks.

  Nico: Although this room stinks bad enough already, not sure we needed to add alcohol to the mix.

  Bacardi: Have you ever even drunk vodka?

  Ni
co: No.

  Bacardi: It doesn’t smell.

  [He sniffs at the mattress, frowning. Bacardi grins at him.]

  Bacardi: See?

  [Louise lets out a scream from the kitchen. They both rush out of the bedroom.]

  Source: Camera #9—Kitchen

  [Nico, Snout, Bacardi, and Titania all run in.]

  Nico: What’s wrong?

  Louise: The food! It’s all gone!

  Nico: What?

  Louise: I came in here to get some Amalgamated Bran Lumps for breakfast, but there aren’t any left! There were eleven bags yesterday, and now they’ve disappeared! Everything has!

  Titania: [opening cabinet doors] Nothing in here, either.

  Snout: [opening the pantry] No more Meteor Chowder! That supply was supposed to last our entire mission!

  Nico: What about all the freeze-dried stuff?

  [Bacardi sticks her head into the freezer.]

  Bacardi: Nope. Gone and goodbye. Fine by me, that stuff was awful.

  Titania: But it was still food, even by the loosest interpretation of the word. Where could it have gone?

  Louise: Isn’t it obvious? Clayton took it!

  Titania: How is that obvious?

  Louise: [gestures around the room] He’s the only one not here. Duh.

  Snout: Maybe he ate it all for himself!

  Bacardi: Or maybe he flushed it down the toilet ’cause he’s a douchebag!

  Titania: Or maybe there’s a perfectly good explanation that is none of those things.

  Snout: But we’re gonna miss breakfast!

  Louise: We’re gonna starve to death!

  Bacardi: We’re gonna have to kill and eat someone to survive!

  [All eyes, conspicuously and inconspicuously, drift to Snout.]

  Snout: [frowning] Oh, good gravy . . .

  Titania: Time out, you guys. I don’t think we need to turn to cannibalism just yet.

  Nico: [under his breath] Famous last words.

  Louise: Oh really? Do you have a better idea?

  Titania: Yes. If we all calm down and think this through in a rational, composed manner—