by Gina Damico
[He gets up from the couch, gives Titania a wave, and follows Bacardi back to the Confessional Closet. Titania watches him go, smiling slightly.]
[After a minute or so, Clayton taps on the glass.]
Clayton: [weakly] Titania? [He puts his finger through the hole.] Can you get me some water?
[Titania ignores him. Clayton sinks dejectedly back into the disgusting tub.]
Clayton: I don’t deserve this.
Titania: Seems to me it’s exactly what you deserve.
[Clayton sighs.]
Clayton: Okay, maybe it is. But I’m not as much of a dick as I’ve led everyone to believe.
[Titania raises her eyebrow at him.]
Clayton: Okay, maybe I am. But I’m not, like, a monster.
Titania: Could have fooled me.
Clayton: Oh, give me a break. I’ve only been gunning after you so hard because you’re my biggest threat out here.
Titania: Threat to what? This isn’t a competition anymore. What could any of us possibly have to gain now?
[Clayton watches her. He runs his finger up and down his jawline, as if debating whether to speak up or hold his tongue.]
[Finally, with some hesitation:]
Clayton: Do you remember what NASAW stands for?
Titania: The . . . National Association for the Study of Astronomy and Weightlessness, right?
Clayton: Uh-huh. But do you know what it really stands for?
[He tips his eyebrow conspiratorially. Titania sits up.]
Titania: What do you mean? You think it stands for something else?
[He cracks his neck.]
Clayton: I have a guess.
Titania: You have a . . . guess.
Clayton: Like I said—my parents hold a lot of sway at the Smithsonian. Once I heard what this show was all about—and that NASAW was involved—I made some very secret calls to some very smart people to find out all I could about what was going to be happening here.
Titania: Right. If you sweet-talked them like you sweet-talked all of us, I’m sure they were real forthcoming.
Clayton: All part of the game, sweetheart. When intimidation and feather-ruffling is what’s called for, that’s what I deliver. But when there are answers I want, it’s just as easy for me to turn on the charm.
Titania: And what did you charm these very smart people into giving you?
Clayton: Dead ends, mostly. A whisper here, an insinuation there. So I dug deeper. Scraped up a few more clues. But this went deep—real deep. Even with the charisma cranked way up, I couldn’t get anyone to blab. So I was forced to turn to less credible sources, people way out on the fringes of the scientific community. And eventually, a fuzzy picture began to emerge.
Titania: And are you going to tell me what it is, or do I have to sit through another hour of this?
[Clayton beckons for her to put her ear up next to the hole.]
Titania: Right. Like I’m going to fall for that again.
[He adopts a dead-serious expression.]
Clayton: I am not messing with you anymore, Titania. I swear.
[She studies him. Then, warily, she puts her ear to the glass.
His whispers are so soft that even the highly sensitive microphones can’t pick up what he’s saying.
But it’s enough to transform Titania’s face.
Her eyes widen.
Her jaws go slack.
And a fire starts to burn in her eyes, slowly growing from a spark to an inferno.]
* * *
Item: Transcript of video recording
Source: Surveillance camera—Visitor Center, the Karl G. Jansky Very Large Array, New Mexico
Time: 6:30 p.m.
[Matt is banging on the glass façade while Kaoru watches, her arms crossed. A security guard opens the door.]
Matt: Finally!
Security Guard: Sorry, kids, but the Visitor Center is closed. It’ll open tomorrow at 8:30 a.m.—
Matt: I need to talk to a scientist! A real one!
Security Guard: Uh—what?
Matt: Someone who can help us without calling the police!
Security Guard: The police? What’s—
Matt: This is a science emergency!
Security Guard: Okay, okay—calm down. Come on inside. I think the director’s still here, she usually stays late.
Matt: Thank you!
Kaoru: {We are making yet another mistake.}
* * *
Item: Transcript of video recording—RAW, UNAIRED FOOTAGE
Source: Camera #3—Lünar Lounge
Time: 6:32 p.m.
[Titania backs away from the glass. When she speaks, her voice is raspy, intense.]
Titania: I don’t believe you.
Clayton: Believe me or don’t. But you are one of the smart ones. You know something unprecedented is happening. And I’m ninety-nine percent sure that’s what it is.
Titania: Why haven’t you told anyone?
Clayton: Same reason you’re not going to tell anyone: because I wanted to keep it all for myself. I wanted the glory, even if—
Titania: Even if you wouldn’t be around to see it? You, the most desperate-for-attention wannabe on television?
Clayton: [chagrined] Yes. But at this point it’s clear that if anyone’s going down with this ship, it’s going to be me. So you might be the only one who has a fighting chance. [He looks around the ship, paranoid.] Do you hear that?
[They keep still.]
Titania: [frowning] That hum?
Clayton: Yeah. It’s new. Or maybe it’s been there all along, too faint for us to notice, and it’s just now getting stronger. Which means things are escalating. It’s almost time.
[Titania swallows.]
Clayton: If it can’t be me, it should be you. All you have to do is find a way out of here.
[They hold each other’s gazes. Slowly, as if approaching a dangerous animal, Titania picks up a Slom bottle from the bar, raises it to the hole in the glass, and pours some water through. Clayton slurps it up.]
Clayton: Thanks.
[Nico walks in, then stops short once he spots the two of them.]
Nico: Am I . . . interrupting something?
Titania: Nope.
[Titania caps the bottle and slams it onto the bar. Nico jumps at the noise.]
Nico: [puzzled] O . . . kay.
[Clayton turns away from the window and curls up as if he’s going to sleep. Nico sits on the couch and pats the cushion, but Titania doesn’t join him.]
Nico: There is some interference in the Confessional Closet, but we couldn’t figure out what it is.
Titania: [pacing] Oh really?
Nico: Yeah, it seemed to be coming from—are you okay?
Titania: Yeah. Why?
Nico: You seem . . . not okay.
Titania: We’re trapped in a fucking prison. Of course I’m not okay.
Nico: Yeah, but—come here. Sit down.
[She does, but on the other end of the couch from him this time. She crosses her legs, her foot on the floor bouncing up and down]
[There is an awkwardness]
Nico: I was thinking—not to be too pushy about it, but if you did come to live in New York, there’s a lot of theater and Broadway and stuff there—maybe you could build sets or something, you know? Put your woodcarving skills to work?
Titania: Right.
[Nico studies her. She is staring straight ahead and biting at a hangnail.]
Nico: Are you sure you’re okay? You’re acting weird.
Titania: I’m fine.
Nico: [eyeing Clayton] Is it him? What did he do this time?
Titania: Nothing.
Nico: It’s just—five minutes ago you were—and now you’re . . .
[another uncomfortable pause]
Nico: Anyway . . . I asked Bacardi if she thinks we’ll all keep in touch after this. She said that if we want to escape with our sanity intact, we’ll have to.
Titania: Mmm.
Nico: Like, because this is such
a life-wrenching thing we’ve all been through, it’ll be hard to explain it to other people when we get home. She said we’ll probably want to keep talking to the ones who were here, who’ll understand what it was like, you know?
Titania: Yeah. [distracted] I guess.
Nico: I don’t know if I’d talk to everyone—I don’t think I could hold a conversation with Hibiscus without wanting to jump in front of a train—but at least you and I are definites.
Titania: Yeah, um—[She scratches her head. When she talks, it is as if she’s talking to herself not registering his presence.] I don’t know. I don’t know if that’s a good idea.
[Nico frowns.]
Nico: What do you mean?
Titania: Maybe it’s better to make a clean break. Keep moving forward. Don’t look back.
Nico: But you said—
Titania: I know what I said, but—[She gets up and paces around again, her movements manic.] I changed my mind. When this is done, I want it to be done. No baggage. No leftovers.
[Nico is crestfallen.]
Nico: Oh.
[She stops pacing. She looks at the flight deck, then in the direction of the hallway.]
Titania: I’m going to go hang out in the closet. I need to rest, or think, or . . . something. Be alone.
Nico: Okay.
[She leaves. Nico stands up but doesn’t follow her. Instead he crosses to the hot-tub window and puts his hands flat on the glass. His voice is tight.]
Nico: [to Clayton’s huddled form] What did you do to her? [Clayton, asleep or not, doesn’t answer.]
* * *
Item: Transcript of audio recording
Source: Voice recorder app—phone of Dr. Carla Emmy
Time: 6:52 p.m.
Dr. Carla Emmy: We are now recording. Repeat what you just told me.
Matt: What part?
Dr. Emmy: All of it. From your escape to when you got here.
Matt: After we woke up in the van and knocked out the driver, we drove back in the direction we came from. After about six hours we arrived at the soundstage. One of the scientists came out to talk to us, but it turns out he wanted to attack us instead, so we fought back and then escaped.
Kaoru: {The foolish boy was of little help.}
Matt: Since we didn’t have a phone or GPS or anything, we just started driving, not knowing where we were going, stopping only to get gas with the cash we grabbed out of the driver’s wallet. We got to Arizona and slept in an IKEA for a few hours, then got on the road again. I think we doubled back by accident. I kept wanting to call someone for help, but every time I tried to access a phone, Kaoru stopped me. But it turns out she was right, because when we tried to ask for help at a gas station and get our bearings and figure out a plan from there, it turns out that we’re kind of, like, fugitives? I guess DV8 told everyone that we were in the hospital and that anyone else claiming to be us is not us, so now the whole world is looking for us and wants to rip out our throats for some reason?
Kaoru: {Fortunately, I have kept a clear head through all of this.}
Matt: So we panicked, grabbed a bunch of food and drinks, escaped from the convenience-store lunatic, and got back on the road—but we still didn’t know where we were going, and we couldn’t ask for help anymore, not unless we wanted to get attacked again.
Kaoru: {The situation is less than ideal.}
Matt: Basically we’ve been driving blind, taking random turns and highways, going in circles, over every inch of—what state are we in?
Dr. Emmy: New Mexico.
Matt: So finally, after miles and miles of nothing but flat scrubby land in all directions, we saw these satellite dishes. And we thought, oh no, scientists! Those are the people who got us into all this trouble in the first place! But then we thought, hey, maybe they’re good scientists instead of bad scientists, and we’re down to five bucks and we can’t buy any more gas so it’s not like we’re going to get any farther, so we decided to take a chance and hope that you’d be able to help us and not turn us over to Chazz Young for him to make space dust out of us!
Dr. Emmy: Have you had anything to drink since yesterday that wasn’t soda?
Matt: Nope!
Dr. Emmy: Let’s pause for a minute to get you both some water.
[The recording cuts out, then cuts back in.]
Dr. Emmy: All right. We’ve calmed down and taken a few cleansing breaths. Are we ready to continue?
Matt: Yes. Wait, can you tell me something? What is this place? All those huge satellite dishes—
Dr. Emmy: Twenty-seven of them, to be exact. And they’re not satellite dishes, they’re radio telescopes. We use them to observe radio omissions, black holes, pulsars, quasars, and lots of other things in deep space. This observatory is called the Very Large Array.
Matt: Oh. Couldn’t come up with a snazzier name for it?
Dr. Emmy: We’re scientists, not poets.
Matt: One more thing: Can I ask who you are? No offense, but we’ve gotten jacked around a lot lately and I’m not sure which adults I should be trusting anymore.
Dr. Emmy: Certainly. I’m the director of the National Radio Astronomy Observatory. And if that’s not enough to convince you, behold the “very large array” of degrees displayed on the wall behind me. [chuckles]
[pause]
Dr. Emmy: That was a joke.
[pause]
Matt: So if you’re an astronomer—then you must have detected the explosion last night! The one we all felt on the Laika!
Dr. Emmy: I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.
Kaoru: {He is wasting your time, Doctor. He still thinks we were in space. We were never in space.}
Matt: When we were in space!
Dr. Emmy: You were in space?
Matt: Yes! That’s the reality show I’m talking about, Waste of Space. Don’t you watch it?
Dr. Emmy: I don’t own a television.
Matt: But it’s online, too. Jeez, lady, how can you not be watching it? You’re an astronomer!
Dr. Emmy: The folly and frivolity of entertainment on Earth will forever pale in comparison to the majesty and mystery of the universe—
Matt: Yeah, sure, sure—but still, if you’re watching the skies, you must have noticed the explosion.
Dr. Emmy: I’m sorry. There have been no extra-orbital explosions over the past week. Nor the past month.
Matt: Then . . . dang. I don’t get it.
Dr. Emmy: Who are these “bad scientists” you referred to earlier?
Matt: I don’t know. I think they were from NASAW.
Dr. Emmy: NASA? But—
Matt: No, NASAW. With a W on the end.
Dr. Emmy: Huh. [pause] I’ve never heard of them.
* * *
Item: Transcript of video recording
Source: Nico’s camera
Battery charge: 12%
Time: 7:11 p.m.
[Nico is lying on his bed, pointing his camera at the ceiling.]
Hi Mom. Hi Dad.
We’re playing the waiting game. Bacardi pinged our location, and all we can do is hope someone in the outside world noticed it.
I can’t talk for long—the others will be back in a minute. Bacardi and Louise are in the bathroom, brushing their teeth. Snout is checking on the Gila monster. We think it’s around bedtime, but we can’t tell. We’ve lost all sense of time.
We’re tired and starving.
We’re running out of water.
And Titania . . .
[He heaves a shuddering sigh. There is a quiver in his voice.]
Something broke her.
Item: Transcript of video recording—RAW, UNAIRED FOOTAGE
Source: Camera #7—Confessional Closet
Time: 7:11 p.m.
[Titania is staring unblinkingly into the camera.]
Titania: Keep moving.
Keep exploring.
Keep moving.
Keep exploring.
I have to get out of here.
I have to get out of here.
I have to get out of here.
[This repeats for five minutes and thirty-nine seconds.]
* * *
Item: Transcript of audio recording
Source: Aero Albuquerque Charter Service
Time: 7:58 p.m.
[A message plays: “This call may be recorded for quality assurance.” ]
Dispatcher: Aero Albuquerque. How may I help you?
NASAW: I need a helicopter. This is for the DV8 account.
Dispatcher: All right. Let me pull up your location . . .
NASAW: No, no—the location on file isn’t accurate. We’re actually at ███████ north, ██████████ west.
Dispatcher: All right. And how soon do you need it?
NASAW: In—hold on a sec.
[muffled voices off-mike]
NASAW: [away from the phone] Yeah, I know it’s ahead of schedule. But that brat with her geotag—people will be coming for us now. DV8, too. We’re almost out of—
[unintelligible speech in background]
NASAW: [away from phone] Because the timing is too unpredictable! Something we did yesterday worked—but nothing we’ve tried yet today has worked, and we don’t even know for sure that it’s something we can replicate. [unintelligible speech in background]
NASAW: [away from phone] I don’t want to hear it. If we can open it up by midnight, great; if not, we’re done. Either way, we gotta get out of here.
[unintelligible speech in background]
NASAW: [away from phone] Too bad. Team A, keep trying; Team B, start wiping the hard drives. We’re at T minus four hours. Go!
[back into the phone]
NASAW: Sorry about that. How we coming on that helicopter?
Dispatcher: When do you need it?
NASAW: As soon as humanly possible.
[end of call]
* * *
Item: Transcript of video recording—RAW, UNAIRED FOOTAGE
Source: Camera #8—Bedroom
Time: 8:45 p.m.
[Bacardi, Nico, Snout, and Louise are in bed, though the lights haven’t gone out. Having gone nearly a full day without food, their energy is zapped. Louise is hiding under her blanket again.]
[Suddenly Titania bursts in, a new degree of urgency in her voice.]