Monday 26 January 2009

Saturday 17 January 2009

3 of 52


Thursday 15 January 2009

Scribblers: Bored Games

Scene the First. The Scribblers are all chillin' in da Pit in the manner of characters written by Quoth the Raven at the start of a script. SHIFT is burrowing her way under some blankets in the manner of something trying to nest, watched by a mildly fascinated LYRIC who is trying to read a book of engineering designs on the sofa beside her. At the table WRAITH is doing Something Shady online, typing away at a Mac laptop. CHRONAL is rearranging his Doctor Who books in various orders on the bookshelf, while on the Sofa Of Discomfort AMITY is excitedly sitting cross-legged playing 'Is it a food?' with a near-suicidal looking FINESSE. There is a general air of restless boredom.

AMITY
Is it spaghetti?

FINESSE
Stop.

AMITY
No, you said it wasn't pasta. Chili? Is it - ?

FINESSE
Please stop.

AMITY
Oh, not a full meal, yes. But I think we've covered everything.

FINESSE
Oh, thank Christ.

AMITY
I thought you liked 'Is it a food?'

FINESSE
I like thinking I'm a patient and tolerant person of wordgames it's been two hours!

AMITY
Oh, wait! We haven't done the pulses! Beans, is it borlotti - ?

FINESSE
I'm more than happy to cut this team down to five.

CHRONAL
Base five! Excellent! I can reorder them in base five!

There is a pause as everyone looks at him. CHRONAL looks slightly defensive.

CHRONAL
What? It'll involve maths.

LYRIC
How long have you been doing that for now?

CHRONAL
Two hours, fourteen minutes and fifty three seconds by the end of this sentence.

WRAITH
I love being on a team with the talking clock.

FINESSE
We've been doing this for more than two hours?

CHRONAL
Actually, you've been going for two hours, sixteen minutes and forty nine seconds...

He trails off, raising a finger, and everyone waits with near-baited breath.

CHRONAL
Now!

FINESSE
Good gods. I actually got excited by that. I'm more bored than I am super-powered.

LYRIC
Yes. Engineering designs just aren't doing it for me, especially when Shift seems to be building a nest out of that duvet.

CHRONAL
Yes, why is she doing that?

AMITY
Displaced animal characteristics. She's trying to settle in.

FINESSE (wearily)
She was a hedgehog earlier. For ages. It's also why she's trying to curl up.

SHIFT (muffled by the duvet)
You know, I can hear you all.

FINESSE
Oh, really? Oh, now you can hear us? Not when Amity was telling you to stop being a hedgehog, though.

SHIFT
So's your face.

LYRIC
Well, that tells you.

CHRONAL
Yeah, she's not wrong.

FINESSE
Thanks.

LYRIC
Oh, dock a small child I'm bored.

AMITY (sadly)
Why do you say things I can never un-hear?

LYRIC
Boredom. Pure, unadulterated boredom.

FINESSE (business-like)
Right, that's it. As leader I am taking charge of this situation. Wraith?

WRAITH
Yes?

FINESSE
Entertain us.

WRAITH
What? Why me?

FINESSE
You're on the internet. Pull your finger out and find us something fun to do, because I swear if Amity asks me one more cuisine-related question I'm going to eclipse Lyric in pure unadulterated exclamatory filth.

WRAITH
Oh, fine. Losers. Hang on...

He types away for a few seconds, then looks up gleefully.

WRAITH
Right. I've found the perfect solution.

CHRONAL (sternly)
Is it porn?

WRAITH
Is - what?

CHRONAL (sternly)
Is it porn, man?

WRAITH
Er...

CHRONAL (sternly)
We'll have no porn here!

WRAITH
It's not porn.

AMITY gets up and walks around to look over WRAITH's shoulder.

AMITY
It's not porn.

CHRONAL (mollified)
Good. (sternly again) Because if it is...

WRAITH
I typed 'What should we do to stop being bored?' into Google. Oh, hang on - that one is porn...

CHRONAL
I knew it!

FINESSE
First non-pornographic interesting-looking result, please, Wraith.

WRAITH
The Nightmare Game. You print out the game board pieces and add your own nightmares to it before playing your way to the finish.

(beat)

Sounds lame.

SHIFT
I can't imagine anything more interesting-sounding at the moment.

CHRONAL
Nor can I.

FINESSE
Let's do it. Make the board, Lyric.

CHRONAL
And it's not porn, you say?

WRAITH
I didn't say that.

There's another pause as everyone looks at him, LYRIC frozen mid-stride to the computer. WRAITH shrugs nonchalently.

WRAITH
But no, it's not.

AMITY
I'm not sure I entirely like the idea of playing a game involving our nightmares.

FINESSE
It beats food.

AMITY
Well, yes, but there are two user comments on this website.

SHIFT
And?

AMITY
One says 'DONT PLAY! STAY AWAY DNT PLAY THIS GAME DANGR 4 THE LV OF GOD DNY PLAY.'

FINESSE
That seems like a pretty decent review to me.

CHRONAL
It is a nightmare game, after all.

AMITY
Well, yes, but the second says "Aaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrghghhh tories tories everywhere help me help nonononononono".

SHIFT
Surely that's just political commentary?

AMITY
I'm playing no game in which I might start seeing Tories!

FINESSE
Amity, it's a game.

WRAITH
Also, the only nightmares are ours. We write them, according to the rules. Just don't write 'Tories' as your nightmare and you'll be fine.

AMITY
Yes, I suppose.

LYRIC
I'm glad you think so, because I've just made the board.

CHRONAL
Excellent! What now?

WRAITH
We set it up and write down our nightmares.

Everyone gets moving. CHRONAL bounces off to fetch his pen collection while FINESSE, AMITY and a newly-emerging SHIFT set up the board in the middle of the floor and LYRIC mutters some paper into being. WRAITH busies himself double-checking the rules. SHIFT peers at the board; it looks a bit like a floor plan, with an odd, intricate design in the middle that looks a bit like a machine seen from above. Odd symbols surround it.

SHIFT
What's that meant to be?

AMITY (squinting at the board)
A lair of some kind.

FINESSE
That's paranoid. We've just been in too many lairs.

AMITY
Well, yes, but that's definitely a lair. It's got a lab, look.

FINESSE
So do lots of scientific establishments.

SHIFT
This does have sort of... dungeony overtones, though.

AMITY
And there's no way you're convincing me that room there is anything other than a room in which you tie up heroes and soliloquize your backstory and evil plot at them.

FINESSE
I -

She pauses, looking closely at the indicated room.

FINESSE
Oh, you're right. Fancy that.

CHRONAL
I have pens!

LYRIC
I have paper!

WRAITH
I have rules.

AMITY
I have misgivings.

LYRIC
Amity, it's a boardgame. We'll be fine. Everyone take paper.

WRAITH
One nightmare each, then fold up your paper and put it in a room of your choice. I tax the Goon Games Room.

AMITY
Oh, I just knew that was a Goon Games Room.

FINESSE
Oh, for the love of -

She looks at the board.

FINESSE
Oh. No, you're right again.

AMITY
And I'm almost positive that's a Goon Training Room.

FINESSE
Well, yes, clearly. I'm taking that one.

LYRIC
I'm taking the dormitories.

FINESSE
Hands up who's surprised?

SHIFT
Well, I'm not.

CHRONAL
You know, I just can't choose mine. Am I more afraid of cl- ?

WRAITH
Argh! Don't tell us. We're not meant to know until we get to the rooms.

CHRONAL
Oh. Well, I think I've decided.

SHIFT
I'm struggling.

FINESSE
Write something! Right now!

SHIFT
Argh! Um, okay. I've chosen. Can I have the Goon Canteen?

FINESSE
That's not - oh, wait. Right again.

CHRONAL
Well, I've chosen, I suppose. I'll do the library.

LYRIC
You're always doing the library.

CHRONAL
I'm on the text offenders' register.

SHIFT
That's dreadful. What dreadfuls you are.

FINESSE
Right, are we ready to start? What do we do?

WRAITH
Everyone needs to poke the weird-looking machine in the middle.

They all lean forwards and touch the central design. It seems to glow suddenly, and then all the room around them starts to spin, the colours blending together -

Scene the Next. Everyone is lying around on the floor of a weird stone room; stone walls, stone floor, stone ceiling. A big machine is humming away in the center, looking suspiciously like a three-dimensional version of the picture in the middle of the game board. AMITY wakes up, then sits bolt upright, looking around frantically.

AMITY
I knew it! I knew it! Wake up!

Everyone suddenly groans awake as AMITY pokes them mentally, dragging themselves upright.

FINESSE
I hate teleportation.

WRAITH
Lame...

AMITY
We're in the game! We're in the bloody game!

SHIFT (quietly)
Oh, this is going to be a problem...

WRAITH
Who the hell goes around teleporting people into games?!

AMITY
Nightmare games!

LYRIC
Are we going to have to see our nightmares?

AMITY
Oh, god I'm glad I didn't write Tories.

SHIFT
Um...

AMITY
What?

FINESSE (to Chronal)
How much time have we lost, if any?

CHRONAL
Only three minutes and eight seconds. That was pretty much instant.

AMITY
What 'um'? I said no Tories and you said - ?

SHIFT
Well, I couldn't think of anything! Everyone had decided! And then Finesse told me to write in a commanding voice! All I could think of -

AMITY (slightly hysterically)
You wrote Tories?!

Hastily, FINESSE hijacks her powers and uses them to calm AMITY down a bit. Everyone looks edgy.

FINESSE
Right. Clearly, we are in the grip of a supervillain's evil plan, one which we will no doubt have monologued at us later. However, we do have some advantages. Firstly: we know the floorplan of this lair. That almost never happens. Secondly: we know which rooms to avoid, in the event that we can avoid the rooms. And thirdly, we know what's in them.

CHRONAL
Tories...

FINESSE
We under no circumstances go into the Goon Canteen, it's fine. Or the Goon Training Room. Now we just need to work out how we get out of here.

SINISTER VOICE
Oh, but there's only one way out.

Everyone looks around. The Weird Machine beams a hologram out and it forms the shape of a man with a hat and cane, facing the back wall. It's MR SINTARO! Oh noes! It's very dramatic, but the effect is somewhat diminished by him facing away from them.

FINESSE
Oh, Jesus God...

WRAITH
Here we go.

MR SINTARO
Not quite God, my dear.

WRAITH
Loser.

LYRIC
My brother's not with you, is he?

CHRONAL (disgustedly)
"Not quite God?"

SHIFT (whispered, to AMITY)
Does he realise we're all behind him?

AMITY (whispered back)
No, I don't think so. I never knew that's what the back of his head looked like.

MR SINTARO
No, Lyric, there's no Narrator with me. Why would I need him? I have new friends now. Friends with certain technological... gifts.

SHIFT
Not one that lets holograms see, though.

MR SINTARO
Cease your prattling, child. You're all here to play a little game of mine, and I'm going to tell you the rules.

WRAITH
We know the rules, rebass. You put them online.

There is a pause.

MR SINTARO
... Nevertheless. You can leave, Scribblers, but only by winning the game. Play your way to the end and you win your freedom. Lose...

He mwahahas. Again, the effect is somewhat ruined by him facing the wall. The others look at each other.

MR SINTARO
You lose to your nightmares here. Or in the case of your esteemed leader; you all lose.

He mwahahahas and fades out. Everyone stands around slightly awkwardly.

beat


LYRIC
I don't like to pry, Finesse, but what -

FINESSE
My nightmare is that I kill you all.

CHRONAL
Oh my goodness!

SHIFT
That's inappropriate.

WRAITH
Sorry - what? You're going to kill us all?

FINESSE
Well, it's more like you all die and it's my fault, really -

AMITY
You know, that's a very different situation, Finesse, and doesn't speak well of your psyche. It hasn't even happened and you're already blaming yourself for murder.

SHIFT
It says we have to play through everyone's nightmares, but does that mean the nightmares have to play out as stated? Can we fight them, or change them?

There's a hum from the machine, and SINTARO's hologram reappears, this time facing the side wall. He's still not facing any of them, however.

MR SINTARO
My apologies, yes, I should have said. You can try to beat them; but you shan't succeed! Mwahahahaha!

He fades again.

There is another pause.


LYRIC
What a strange man.

FINESSE
But reassuring. 'You shan't succeed' is what they all say when you blatantly can. Otherwise they just say 'No, no you can't.'

WRAITH
Can we just play? This is more boring than earlier. I was online then.

FINESSE (to AMITY)
Oh, but that speaks well of his psyche? Why aren't you bothering him?

AMITY
I expect it from him. That's normal Wraith.

FINESSE
Fair. Okay: Chronal. Can you do anything with the big glowy machine? Reverse the polarity and send us back?

CHRONAL
No. I took fifteen minutes in No Time poking it just now. It's like nothing I've ever seen before it's so complicated.

FINESSE
Nothing for it, then.

They all line up and FINESSE cautiously opens the door. She peers outside for a second.

FINESSE
No goons. Let's go.

Scene the Next. The Scribblers are in a hallway that looks a bit like the atrium of a gothic mansion, having apparently walked in through the front door. A grand staircase leads up in front of them to another floor, while the walls around them are lined with aged, ornate doors. The carpet clearly used to be plush and expensive, as did the long curtains framing the long windows on either side of the front door, but by now they're all old and uncared for. It is apparently night outside, although there is a lightning storm going on. The walls are wood panelled and covered in those weird portraits of seriously misshapen people and animals that you seem to get in such places. A chandelier swings quietly overhead.

FINESSE
How have we come in through the front door?

SHIFT
Well, that makes no logical sense.

LYRIC
No, it really doesn't. I made this board, the weird machine thing should be in the middle.

AMITY
I suppose we can't just open the front door again, then? Leave that way?

WRAITH opens the door. The machine is humming away behind it. FINESSE goes to one of the windows beside the door and looks across.

FINESSE
It looks like a real door through here.

WRAITH
It's a decepti-door.

SHIFT
Can we break the windows?

FINESSE
You tell me. Let me move first, though.

SHIFT becomes an elephant as FINESSE moves and swings her tusks at the window. There's an odd sound, like ivory on stone.

WRAITH
Oh, the light's all funny there. I think it's a holographic window.

CHRONAL
That's a remarkably good hologram.

SHIFT (morphing back)
It's also a remarkably bad time to mention that important bit of strategic information.

WRAITH
Oh, yeah. Soz.

LYRIC
Um, I've made a new door over here ...

AMITY
Excellent!

LYRIC
It leads back into the machine room, though.

There's a pause as everyone looks between the two open doors. Both have the machine, the same machine, humming merrily beyond.

CHRONAL
It's occupying a dimensional-spacial rend.

FINESSE
Temporal?

CHRONAL
No. Yes. I'm not sure.

AMITY
How can you not be sure?

CHRONAL
Well, I don't think the rend is temporal as well, but there's something a bit... timey-wimey... about the machine.

SHIFT
Wibbly-wobbly.

LYRIC
Mibbly-mobbly.

FINESSE
I wonder if this machine is going to aim us at our nightmares in order.

CHRONAL
I'll check.

He blurs and is gone. One second later he's back, looking thoughtful as all of the doors around them finish swinging loudly shut.

CHRONAL
Well called. We're doing Lyric's first, apparently. And there's no other way out.

LYRIC
Oh, frap a small man's -

AMITY
Please don't finish that sentence.

SHIFT
Is that what we'll be doing? You put yours in the domitories.

LYRIC (gloomily)
No. I wish.

Everyone tries and fails to put that image out of their heads, then they turn and follow CHRONAL to the relevant door.

WRAITH
You have to go in first.

LYRIC (slightly panicked)
What? Why?

WRAITH
Mr Genero's rules said so. Your nightmare, see.

AMITY
Chin up! We can do it!

LYRIC nods, suddenly all grim determination. AMITY is scary.

LYRIC
Right.

FINESSE
Right! In we go!

LYRIC puts his hand on the doorknob, twists and pushes it dramatically open. Inside, two rows of bunkbeds march to the end of a longish room, finishing at an open window with billowy curtains. The only light comes from the moon outside, illuminating the empty beds. To the side of the window, cloaked mostly in shadow, an open wardrobe sits, only darkness visible inside. LYRIC steps in and stops not far over the threshold, joined by the others. The door slams shut behind them.

WRAITH
Door's locked. Stupid door.

SHIFT
So... you're afraid of having an empty bedroom?

CHRONAL
Does that mean we have to have an orgy to beat the nightmare?

FINESSE
Wow. Most offbeat Scribblers story ever.

LYRIC
Sometimes, I hate you all, you know that? Except Amity.

AMITY
Hurrah! I always knew being excessively nice to people would pay off!

FINESSE
My sister says I take the opposite view.

SHIFT
Well, yes, but she also says you take forever to put on your shoes, and that's just a weird accusation that I don't at all understand.

FINESSE
I know! I think she assumes that I'm mean to everyone rather than just her, which is more accurate.

CHRONAL
Something just moved down there.

They all fall apprehensively silent, since 'Something just moved over there' is one of the single creepiest sentences in the English language, and look down the end of the room. Something is indeed moving in the shadows by the wardrobe.

WRAITH
What exactly is your nightmare, Lyric?

LYRIC
Something hideous in a feather boa.

HIDEOUS THING IN FEATHER BOA
Being powerful is like being a lady: if you have to tell people you are, you aren't.

SCRIBBLERS EN MASSE
Aaaaaarrrrrrggghhhh!

They all turn and hurl themselves at the door, crushing WRAITH slightly, as the HIDEOUS THING IN FEATHER BOA steps into the light. It is truly hideous, hunched over and naked with rigid spines running down its back and clawed hands fused into fists, one eye half closed while the other stares madly above a drooling mouth. The feather boa is pink and sparkly, and covers nowhere near enough of the thing as it slowly drags its gimpy leg along the floor towards them.

It is Margaret Thatcher.

MARGARET THATCHER IN FEATHER BOA
No one would have remembered the Good Samaritan if he'd only had good intentions. He also had money.

AMITY (sobbing, hammering at the door)
I can't influence her! She's got no emotions!

SHIFT
Move! I can kick the door down!

WRAITH
No you can't... it's stone again...

LYRIC
How do you know that? It could still be wood!

WRAITH
You're... crushing me... against it....

SHIFT
I'm willing to try anyway!

MARGARET THATCHER IN FEATHER BOA
One of the things that being in politics has taught me is that men are not a reasoned or reasoning sex.

WRAITH
What?

AMITY
Make her stop!

LYRIC
Oh, god, she's getting closer -

FINESSE
Chronal, freeze her!

CHRONAL
I've been trying, but I can't! She's not affected by the passage of time like the rest of us!

MARGARET THATCHER IN FEATHER BOA
I keep Arthur Scargill's testicles as a necklace.

FINESSE
Right. Enough! We have to beat her. Everyone grab a blanket from the beds! Shift, fly past and get to the wardrobe! We need clothes for her!

They all sprint to the nearest beds and tear the blankets off, holding them up like shields. SHIFT, meanwhile, turns into a robin and flies to the wardrobe, morphing back so quickly she's still in the air and lands half in the wardrobe.

LYRIC
Shift, hurry! We need to clothe her!

SHIFT
Argh! Oh, god! There are no clothes in here! Only feather boas!

AMITY
Nothing else at all? Not even a hat or something?

WRAITH
Oh, for underwear right now...

SHIFT
I'm not looking anymore.

LYRIC
It's kind of important -

SHIFT
There are nipple tassels in here!

There is a brief silence.

WRAITH
I think I might run at the door again.

FINESSE
Curtain tie-backs! Are there any?

LYRIC
Argh! Don't put images like that in my head!

AMITY
I'll take it back out for you.

LYRIC
This is why I don't hate you.

SHIFT
There are two, and an overly-ornate light pull. What do you want to do with them?

FINESSE
Greek-style clothing, using the bed sheets. There's just one problem.

CHRONAL
What?

FINESSE
Someone needs to get the boa off her.

MARGARET THATCHER IN FEATHER BOA
A world without nuclear weapons would be less stable and more dangerous for us all.

AMITY
You absolute -

FINESSE
That's it! Amity! Dial down my sense of primal terror, quickly!

AMITY
Okay...

She does so, and FINESSE drops her blanket, steps closer and punches MARGARET THATCHER IN FEATHER BOA squarely across the face. As she reels FINESSE grabs the boa and yanks it away; the others take their chance to leap on her with the blankets, bearing her to the ground and positively smothering her in the sheets. SHIFT hurries forward with the curtain-ties and light-pull and she and FINESSE set about tying the blankets to her.

LYRIC
There's flesh by there! There's flesh by there! Cover it!

AMITY
I've got it! Shit, no, that's exposed her shoulder...

CHRONAL
I've got another sheet! Use this.

MARGARET THATCHER IN SHEETS
Socialism is a disease.

All Scribblers punch her.

They finish, and stand back to admire their handiwork. MARGARET THATCHER IN SHEETS is now trussed up on the floor, no part of her visible. LYRIC shudders and sits down heavily.

LYRIC (hollowly)
I Captain need a drink.

CHRONAL
Will this be enough? Does it look enough like clothes? I mean... we've completely covered her head. In three pillow cases.

WRAITH
It's a burka. I've read about them.

FINESSE
I think those are supposed -

There's a click from the door, which swings open to reveal the entrance hall beyond.

FINESSE (slightly hysterically)
Everyone out! That's an order!

They stampede out and slam the door behind them, collapsing bonelessly against walls and onto the floor. No one moves or speaks for a minute.

FINESSE (to AMITY)
Is everyone okay?

AMITY
Just about. Lyric's good. Sort of euphoric, actually. Nothing like beating your nightmare.

WRAITH
We're going to have to do that five more times. This is so lame.

MR SINTARO
Ah, Scribblers. I see you survived your first nightmare.

His hologram appears out of nowhere, facing a plant pot.

CHRONAL
Why is he never facing the right way?

FINESSE
He has been the last two times. Wraith is changing him.

WRAITH
Megalolz.

MR SINTARO
Congratulations, Lyric. You passed your own test! Although, it's intriguing to note that you placed such a delightful creature in the dormitories.

SHIFT
Wow. He truly is evil.

FINESSE
You mean, him setting fire to you that time wasn't obvious enough?

SHIFT
There's being aflame, and then there's naked Thatcher sex.

LYRIC
Yes, I put her in the dormitories. Then there's no need for -

The Scribblers all hastily cover their ears, and watch as MR SINTARO, despite being a hologram at present, goes white and reels. Cautiously, they all uncover their ears again. LYRIC looks smug.

CHRONAL
Ah, the power of words. I'm going to check what's next.

He blurs away.

MR SINTARO
Why bother? I can tell you. It's -

CHRONAL
Wraith's turn. Beat you.

MR SINTARO
But who will be beating whom now? Mwahahaha...

He fades.

Beat.

LYRIC
What a strange man.

FINESSE
Come on. We need to go and face the end of artistic expression in the face of capitalist consumerism.

WRAITH
How did you know that was my nightmare?

FINESSE
I know my team. Come along, children.

They all trudge across the hall to the Goon Games Room and eye the door warily. It radiates liminal oaken innocence at them. WRAITH morosely opens it, and steps inside.

No one is in there except for them, but they seem to be in a virtual utopia. Computers line one wall, with a virtual pool and darts area off to one side. Along another wall is a set of headsets that you apparently wear in order to step into a virtual world; the closest one has Fifa'25 written on it. At the far end is a plasma TV screen that covers the whole wall with a futuristic-looking console plugged in. The Scribblers file in and the door slams shut.

WRAITH
Hmm. This... doesn't look like I expected.

LYRIC
No, nor I. I was expecting more... I don't know. Something.

CHRONAL
I'm not sure what the threat is in here.

AMITY
I think it looks dreadful.

CHRONAL
Well, yes, but it's not your nightmare.

SHIFT wanders over to the computers and sits down at one to poke it. FINESSE heads over to the headsets, and WRAITH starts examining the virtual darts. LYRIC and CHRONAL go to the console by the TV. AMITY stays where she is, wary of the gaming equipment.

CHRONAL
I've never seen one of these before.

LYRIC
It looks... sleek.

FINESSE
Alarm bell one: none of these headsets plays anything other than a sports game, a film tie-in or 'American Commandos in Space'.

WRAITH
I hate American Commandos in Space. These darts are pretty cool, though.

SHIFT
The computers seem fine. Although this one does seem a little bit slower than I'd expect, considering how futuristic this stuff is.

AMITY
They're not as beautiful as my Mac.

CHRONAL
Well, no, but that's because -

He stops and looks up in horror, staring at all the things around them.

CHRONAL
Oh god. Shift, quickly; open an email window! Try to download something!

SHIFT
Okay. Why am I - ? Oh. It's crashed.

CHRONAL
Finesse, double-check those games. Is there anything else?

FINESSE
No, nothing. What are you thinking?

CHRONAL
Wraith, try to save your game.

WRAITH
Argh! Stupid game! It's frozen. And I swear they've used fogging.

CHRONAL
Lyric, turn off that console carefully. It'll be hot.

LYRIC
Wow. Jesus, yes it is. I can feel the heat from a foot away.

CHRONAL
It's - Wraith, maybe you should sit down.

WRAITH
Sitting down is for squares.

FINESSE
What is it? What's going on?

CHRONAL
We're in a world that's been conquered my Microsoft.

There is another pause while everyone stares at CHRONAL.

WRAITH
Lame. Lame lame lame. Everything? Everything is Microsoft?

The lightbulb above them flickers.

AMITY
Everything. I think the lightbulb has a virus.

SHIFT
Er, I think... I think I may have given it the virus. You know; when I opened that email. Um. I think -

Chronal crosses over to the console beside her and taps at the keyboard, his fingers blurring.

CHRONAL
It's spreading. To everything in here, although apparently we can download a patch.

FINESSE
This game is a version of Katamari, except you play as an American Commando. In space.

WRAITH
Argh!

AMITY
How on earth do we beat this?

LYRIC
I can make a new lightbulb, but I don't know how to make a Wii.

The lightbulb flickers out.

FINESSE
Right. Well, replacing the lightbulb sounds like a cracking idea. Chronal? Can you rewrite anything?

CHRONAL
On these? Good gods, no! It's Microsoft!

AMITY
What was your nightmare specifically, Wraith?

WRAITH
The end of artistic expression in the face of capitalist consumerism.

AMITY
Then to beat it we just need to use our own artistic expression!

LYRIC
Light.

Light fills the room again from the new bulb, which is, of course, energy saving. Everyone looks at AMITY.

CHRONAL
You mean - ?

AMITY
Play a game! We have to play a game, with our own artistic licence and imaginations! Show we don't need Microsoft! They can't survive if they aren't being used, that's how corporations work.

FINESSE
We needed the lightbulb, but we replaced it. I don't think we need anything else in here. Unplug everything!

There is a brief scurry of activity before they all sit in the middle where the virtual pool table has ceased to exist. AMITY is beaming. WRAITH still looks morose. LYRIC is muttering under his breath, a deck of cards slowly appearing on the floor in front of him.

SHIFT
Ooh, card games! I love card games.

AMITY
Little Britain. It involves a degree of acting.

WRAITH
Good idea. Whoever ends up as the tramp has to carry one of the headsets, trying to sell it to the others for money and self-respect.

AMITY
Excellent! That's even better than our 'Working not Begging' t-shirt! (thoughtfully) You know, I've never quite felt comfortable about that t-shirt.

They play six rounds, in which CHRONAL's hat becomes the crown for the monarch, LYRIC's sword becomes the badge of office for prime minister and SHIFT produces a pair of snakeskin gloves for foreign secretary. FINESSE's gloves are used for Welsh assembly member on the tenuous-but-acceptable grounds of Being Red. At the end of it WRAITH is monarch and happily ordering LYRIC the tramp to lay his cards down for him when the door clicks open.

SHIFT
Can't we play one more round?

LYRIC
No, 'Prime Minister', we can't. Not unless you want to be tramp.

SHIFT
You love being a tramp.

FINESSE
Out, everyone. Come on.

They all file out, CHRONAL dashing off to check which room is next. As the door closes again behind them WRAITH reopens it to double-check; as the weird machine from earlier hums into view he sighs happily and closes it again, apparently content.

MR SINTARO's hologram appears. This time it's horizontal, facing the floor. WRAITH grins evilly.

MR SINTARO
Safely through the second, I see. My, my. It seems I may have under-estimated you all.

CHRONAL
Because you've never done that before...

MR SINTARO
Oh, indeed, indeed. But not this time, I suspect; and certainly not now. It's time for you all to die.

FINESSE
Oh, shit. It's my turn, isn't it?

CHRONAL
Yes. Are you alright?

FINESSE
Fine, obviously.

MR SINTARO
Mwahahaha!

He fades. LYRIC shakes his head.

LYRIC
It's just ending on that laugh, you know? So strange.

CHRONAL
Are you actually okay?

FINESSE
You need to take over for this. Be leader again. I can't take command of you all for this.

AMITY
I don't think we'll be able to just side-step it like that.

FINESSE
No, nor do I; but I think it'll give you all a greater chance of surviving.

They walk to the door. AMITY pulls level with FINESSE.

AMITY
You're already feeling guilty.

FINESSE
You didn't want to play this game. I not only insisted we play, I then included the one scenario in which you all die. I've already let you all down quite spectacularly.

AMITY
I at no point thought we'd get catapulted into the game. None of us could have known this would happen. And if you want to talk about terrible choices of nightmares to include, blame Shift - she's given us Tories to look forward to.

FINESSE
Tories might make us wish we were dead. They won't make us actually dead.

AMITY
We're not dead.

FINESSE
Yet.

WRAITH
Wow. I thought I was the pessimistic one.

CHRONAL
Look, it's alright. The point is to beat the nightmare; in this case, that means the point is solely for us to survive. We can do that.

FINESSE
I'm sorry.

She pushes open the door and steps through. AMITY and CHRONAL exchange a worried look behind her back before following; SHIFT looks like she wants to say something, but keeps quiet. LYRIC draws his sword. WRAITH looks bored.

Nothing happens as FINESSE steps into the room; but as the others cross the threshold there is a flash of light -

Scene the Next. CHRONAL, SHIFT, AMITY, LYRIC and WRAITH are all lying on the floor of another room entirely, this one lined with books except for a plasma TV screen on one wall. CHRONAL jumps to his feet and stares in horror at the TV.


CHRONAL
Oh, god no.

SHIFT
What the hell - ?

She stares at the screen.

SHIFT
What - ?

CHRONAL
Oh, god.

Scene the Other. FINESSE moves into the room and stops as the door shuts behind her. The other Scribblers catch up, and CHRONAL puts a hand on her shoulder.

FINESSE
Take over.

CHRONAL
Are you sure?

FINESSE
Definitely.

CHRONAL
Alright. Let's press on.

He moves into the lead and walks down the room. A few doors are set into the other end; otherwise, the room is bare.

Scene the Library. All Scribblers are now standing, staring at the screen. CHRONAL has one hand covering his mouth, while AMITY has one hand on her head, concentrating.

WRAITH
Dude, impostor-you just touched your girlfriend.

SHIFT
I doubt that's helping.

AMITY
We're too far apart from them. I can't get a signal from any of them; I can only feel Finesse because of our rapport.

CHRONAL
Clones... We have clones...

LYRIC
What? Clones? As in - ?

CHRONAL
As in fucking Spider-Clones. As in, crap sodding guesswork as to which of us is the original leading to much god-damned soul-searching and designer angst as to whether or not we'd still be us even if we were clones until one of us has the decency to die and instantly crumble into dust as though that makes any kind of scientific bloody sense!

SHIFT
We're in your nightmare?

CHRONAL
Yes! Just in time for that set of us to die, and Finesse won't know!

AMITY
We're the originals.

LYRIC
How do you know?

AMITY
Because there's only one Finesse and I can still feel her. I can't feel any of the others. That means they're different from Finesse, which means they're the clones.

SHIFT
Clone-usses. Weird.

WRAITH
We'll be able to call in sick from heroing. That's awesome.

CHRONAL
We won't. They're going to die.

LYRIC
Well, that's -

CHRONAL
They wouldn't have cloned us otherwise. Not like this, anyway. We'd have met them and had to poke them and talk to them and do the angst thing. But I don't think we could have died in Finesse's nightmare.

AMITY
I agree. It's not our nightmare.

WRAITH
So we don't die?

SHIFT
No but... they do. They might be copies, but they're still people.

AMITY
Finesse is going to feel it, still.

LYRIC puts an arm around her shoulders, and SHIFT shudders.

Scene the Other. CLONAL leads them into the centre of the room, opposite the doors, and stops. CLAMITY and CLIFT are still looking worriedly at FINESSE. CLYRIC is eyeing the doors. CLAITH is invisible.


CLONAL
I'm thinking hordes of bad guys through the doors.

CLYRIC
I agree.

CLONAL
Battle formations, children!

They all stand ready. The doors stand closed. Some tumbleweed inexplicably rolls by, and someone coughs. CLONAL sighs.

CLONAL
Or maybe not. Should I check the doors?

FINESSE
I make no decisions.

CLONAL
That wasn't so much a request for a decision as it was a request for an opinion.

FINESSE
I also give no opinions. Mostly because my opinions are things like 'No, don't open the doors, automatic death traps are lurking there.' I'm jumpy and unreliable.

CLYRIC
You're always jumpy and unreliable, you. Always jumping and unrelying.

CLONAL
Potentially a good point, though. Fan out, everyone. Just be ready.

CLAITH
Yeah, but for what? What if nothing happens?

CLIFT
Twenty-minute rule gets my vote. If nothing turns up we go home.

Everyone turns and looks at her. CLIFT shrugs.

CLIFT
Well, it always worked on teachers.

CLAMITY
Well, I can't imagine any sort of situation where that's not applicable.

They all fan out around the room in various states of readiness. CLYRIC makes CLAITH a pipe with which to batter potential Goons. CLIFT shifts into a tiger and back again, stretching. CLONAL watches the doors. CLAMITY watches FINESSE, who stands resolutely in the middle of the room, saying and doing nothing.

The result of no one really paying attention is that, at first, no one sees the bright circles of light that appear on the floor beneath all but FINESSE. CLAITH is the first to notice as he tries to go invisible.


CLAITH
Whoa, what the - ?

They all look down, but too late. Large cylinders drop from the ceiling, boxing them all in. The cylinders are transparent, so plenty of room for overly dramatic pawing at them from the occupants, although not as badly as that scientist in Doctor Who: City of Death when Tom Baker was Doctor, remember that one? That was right rubbish. FINESSE rushes over to CLIFT's.

FINESSE
Oh, god... can you change? I can't reach you for some reason...

CLIFT
No, I can't. Something's blocking me -

CLAMITY
You've all gone! Oh god, you've all gone...

FINESSE runs over to her instead.

FINESSE
We're not gone, not yet! It's okay -

SINISTER NEWCOMER
Ah, but 'yet' is the operative word, here, I'm sure you'll agree.

FINESSE
You!

Scene the Library. Everyone is staring open-mouthed at the TV screen.


WRAITH
I don't believe it.

SHIFT
Oh, we should have known.

WRAITH
I can't believe it.

CHRONAL
Clones...

WRAITH
I can't believe that man is still on Sintaro's team.

LYRIC
His costume is still a bit designer-cool.

SHIFT
I wonder if he can do anything useful now?

WRAITH
Not likely.

Scene the Other. FINESSE is staring in pure hatred at the newcomer, who steps forward. It's BLOCK! Sorry if I excited anyone. He's really lame. He holds up two remote control things with a big red button on each and smiles.

BLOCK
Don't come any closer, now.

FINESSE
I can in no way imagine why you think I'd want to be closer to you.

BLOCK
What? I'm very pretty!

FINESSE
You've got a weird lip. It freaks me out if I'm honest.

BLOCK
I also have your ultimatum.

FINESSE
Right, well, now we're talking.

BLOCK
Can I invite you to look above each of these rather handy prisons, Scribbler? Do you see the tanks above them?

FINESSE
I'm not blind.

BLOCK
Those contain gas. Of the poisonous variety.

There's a pause as BLOCK looks a bit smug. FINESSE raises an eyebrow.

FINESSE
'Gas of the poisonous variety?' What gas? Which poison? Did you even turn up to your briefing, or were you a bit distracted at the time?

BLOCK
Well -

FINESSE
There was a mirror, wasn't there.

CLIFT
In his face.

CLONAL
I think that's the point.

BLOCK
Listen carefully, Scribbler. One of these buttons will release the gas into the cages. The other will open the cages. You get to choose which I press. Choose wisely.

FINESSE
Well, obviously, I choose the one that opens the cages.

BLOCK
But - oh, wait. Sorry. I forgot. You have to choose left or right.

FINESSE
Wow, you suck at this. And isn't there normally a riddle to help you choose? Two guardians, one can only lie, the other can only tell the truth, that kind of thing?

BLOCK
I - wasn't given one...

FINESSE
This isn't really an ultimatum, you know. Who the hell designed this? Was it you?

BLOCK
No! It was Mr Sintaro.

FINESSE
The man has the intellect of a derranged monkey.

Scene the Library. Everyone looks tense.

SHIFT
Surely there's no way she can win this, though? There must be a trick.

LYRIC
There was a way to beat all the others.

SHIFT
All the others involved us. Those are clones. They're clearly intended to die. Either both buttons just release the gas anyway or there's a trick somewhere in the phrasing.

CHRONAL
I agree.

AMITY (shakily)
So does Finesse.

Scene the Other. BLOCK is still smiling his stupid smile, the Clibblers are still stuck and FINESSE is agonising. All much the same.


FINESSE (quietly)
Guys, I don't think either button lets you go.

CLAITH
I think the one that opens the cages will.

CLONAL
It's 50/50. Those are good odds.

FINESSE
No. I think whichever button I choose you'll die. I'm sorry.

BLOCK
Might as well hurry, then. Or I pick for you.

FINESSE sighs, then looks up steadily.

FINESSE
Left.

BLOCK
Good choice! That opens the cages.

FINESSE
Really?

BLOCK
At the top.

He laughs maniacally and retreats as FINESSE whirls around to face the cages, now open at the top and therefore filling with gas of the poisonous variety. The Clibblers inside are choking, collapsing on the floor; CLYRIC pulls off his jacket, hastily trying to cover the gas vents with it.

FINESSE
No!

She hammers on the glass of CLONAL's cage; he presses one hand against it, covering hers, and gives a weak smile before he dies in suitably touching Hollywood style. The others follow suit. The gas is pumped back out again and the big cylinders slide up and away, leaving FINESSE to frantically check the pulse of everyone. It's no good. They are now Deads. What Deads they are. A final cliched shot of FINESSE sobbing over CLONAL's freshly deceased corpse before moving on to -

Scene the Library. The Scribblers are all silent except for a sobbing AMITY, who is on the floor clutching her head with both LYRIC and SHIFT trying to comfort her. CHRONAL is staring at the TV screen, frozen, his expression unreadable. WRAITH is checking the door.

AMITY
I just can't reach her! If I could reach her -

SHIFT
It's alright. Maybe we'll be able to once we're out of here and outside her door.

LYRIC
And failing that we'll find Actuy-Sintaro and beat the everliving shit out of him until he lets her out.

AMITY
But he said people get lost to their nightmares here! What if she can't leave? What if she's stuck here? Then what?

CHRONAL (quietly)
We're not leaving until she's out. And possibly not until Sintaro is dead.

WRAITH
I want to bite his eyelids off.

SHIFT
That's sweet of you.

LYRIC (to Chronal)
What now?

WRAITH
The door's open. Probably because of clone death and us knowing they were clones anyway.

CHRONAL vanishes, then reappears at the door.

CHRONAL (darkly)
Good news. A roomful of Tories is up next.

AMITY
That's terrible news!

LYRIC
No. For once, I'm inclined to see this as an excellent opportunity.

He stands up and draws his sword. Since it's LYRIC, he looks cool and suave. SHIFT pulls AMITY up.

SHIFT
They're right. Let's go and work through our anger in a constructive manner.

Scene the Next. The assembled Scribblers are outside the Tory Door. CHRONAL is still angry-looking, LYRIC looks cool and suave. WRAITH has, inexplicably, found a pipe. AMITY still seems shaky, and is eyeing the door apprehensively. SHIFT is steeling herself to open it. The hologram of MR SINTARO appears, for once facing them.

MR SINTARO
A new room, but an old line-up, one could say? You're the leader again, Chronal?

CHRONAL (deadly)
Only Lyric has the words to express how much I now loathe you.

LYRIC
I have all the words.

MR SINTARO
Ah, such fire! Such -

CHRONAL
Do you smoke?

MR SINTARO
... I believe I was talking.

CHRONAL
I believe I don't care.

MR SINTARO
I'm a man of class, time lord. Cuban cigars are my vice.

CHRONAL
Oh, good. Who do you vote for?

MR SINTARO
The Conservatives -

CHRONAL
Excellent.

WRAITH
Dude, have you gone mad with grief?

CHRONAL
I'm collating all the mitigating circumstances that will make his murder legal. How do you feel about the north?

MR SINTARO
Enough of this insignificant rambling! I -

AMITY
That's probably what he thinks of the north.

SHIFT
I quite agree.

CHRONAL
What about global warming?

MR SINTARO
What about what?

AMITY
Oh, well, now he has to die. I mean, I was going to stay on the fence, what with the dubious moral implications of killing even Sintaro, but I think I'll hold your coat for you.

MR SINTARO
What a trying group of individuals you are. Laugh if you will, Scribblers; but you shan't be escaping your fifth nightmare! Mwahahahaha!

He fades.

LYRIC
Such a strange man.

WRAITH
Also, hasn't he told us we'll fail at every door so far?

SHIFT
Right, I'm opening it. Brace yourselves for the bingo and blue-rinse brigade. And probably a lot of tweed...

The door swings open. Within is what looks like a ballroom, all gold leaf and chandeliers with a big grand fireplace at the far end and a string quartet playing in the corner. A long table down one wall is laden with a buffet of things like quails' eggs and a pig's head with an apple in its mouth, stuffed with truffles and fois gras. The rest of the room is occupied with a lot of people who seem to have half the usual amount of chins but twice the usual amount of pomp to make up for it. Most of them are saying 'fnah' at the end of each sentence. SHIFT pauses a moment before crossing the threshold, the others following nervously behind her. The door swings shut, and they all suppress a momentary urge to hammer on it before settling themselves.

A man bustles up to them with a cigar in one hand and a glass of brandy in the other, which he swirls. He is wearing a tweed jacket and a deerstalker, and has a monocle over one eye. His moustache is so large it covers his whole mouth. He is clearly called GEORGE. His wife follows vacantly behind him, all posh dress, cigarette holder and no chin. She is clearly called MARGERY.

GEORGE
Ah, newcomers! Good, good! Fnah! Would you care for some quails' eggs? We got them off a local chap; a commoner, of course, but decent enough if you make sure he doesn't come too near the house, eh?

He addresses this to SHIFT, who stares at him.

MARGERY
George; I think that one is a commoner.

She points at WRAITH, looking disapprovingly at his hair. He glares at her. GEORGE gives him a quick look up and down, and sniffs.

GEORGE
Oh, he's probably some sort of servant. (to SHIFT) Is he your servant?

SHIFT
No...

LYRIC
Fnah.

GEORGE
Oh, good heavens! He must have come in with the staff then. He's probably staff.

AMITY
Excuse me; is that real fur you're wearing?

MARGERY
Oh, yes darling, yes it is! Siberian tiger. I heard they were rare, and I thought, well, no one else will have one, then! Beautiful, isn't it?

GEORGE (merrily, to SHIFT)
I'll bet you wish you'd thought of that, eh? Oh, the things she thinks of, my wife...

SHIFT
Why do you keep addressing me?

GEORGE
Why, because you're one of us, of course! Look at you! In a dress, in blue -

He's cut off by SHIFT punching him square in the face; in fact, she partially transformed the muscles in her arm, so he ends up flying about three metres away before sliding to a halt against the buffet table. Everyone in the hall turns to stare at SHIFT, who seems to be having trouble staying human suddenly.

SHIFT
I am not a Tory!

MARGERY
Oh, my... How simply barbaric!

AMITY
What?! What?! That's barbaric?! This is how your tiger feels!

She attacks mentally. MARGERY screams and starts running away, chased by imaginary hunters. The other Tories start bustling towards them with cries of 'Queensbury rules!' and 'Junior Eton boxing champion' and 'For the crown!'. The Scribblers all look at each other and grin.

CHRONAL
Scribblers? Attack.

SHIFT becomes a tiger and lauches herself at them all, snarling. Three faint. CHRONAL blurs away, punching them all on the stupid weak chins. LYRIC goes mental in his suave karate ninja way, while WRAITH runs around stealing their wigs, attacking with his pipe and throwing their disgusting food at them invisibly. AMITY steps forward, hands on hips, and looks at them all as they fall.

AMITY (shouting)
Socialism!

They all go still and look up at her, expressions suddenly vacant, before one nods, dazedly.

RANDOM TOFF
What... a good... idea...

RANDOM OTHER TOFF
Capital... simply splendid...

RANDOM TOFF
And charity...

RANDOM OTHER TOFF
Maybe... maybe people don't... choose... to be criminals...?

CHRONAL
No! They don't! And the free market isn't bloody self-regulating!!

The door opens behind them, and the Scribblers turn and flee from the room. CHRONAL cheats by using super speed. SHIFT is still a tiger. They all get outside and slam the door shut, sinking down against walls and things. AMITY is still shaking.

AMITY
A Siberian tiger!

WRAITH
My hair. It's my hair, isn't it?

AMITY
A Siberian tiger! How could she do that?!

SHIFT purrs her tiger-purr briefly, and rubs her face against AMITY's shoulder. AMITY strokes her absent-mindedly.

AMITY
I know!

WRAITH
The universe hates my hair.

CHRONAL
Why is Shift still a tiger?

AMITY
Because she doesn't want to be human at the moment. Tigers have less complicated emotions.

CHRONAL
Oh.

LYRIC
Is she likely to attack us at any given moment?

AMITY
No.

LYRIC
Alright then.

CHRONAL
God, I need a shower. I hate Tories.

SHIFT gives him a lick. CHRONAL nods.

CHRONAL
Thanks.

LYRIC
One nightmare left. What is it, anyway, Amity? You haven't said.

AMITY
Er... about that...

WRAITH
Do you want to kill us as well? Why does everyone have such lame fears?

AMITY
I don't want to kill us. Nor did Finesse.

CHRONAL (suspiciously)
What did you write?

AMITY
Well, all I could think of were Tories -

LYRIC
Oh god. Oh Christ. Oh tell me you did not write Tories as well.

AMITY
I didn't, of course I didn't, but... I'd just seen the room for tying up heroes and soliloquizing your evil plans at them and I couldn't think of anything...

CHRONAL (alarmed)
You didn't!

AMITY
Um...

SHIFT mewls pathetically. It's a strange sound for a tiger.

AMITY
I know! I'm sorry.

WRAITH
That, is the worst nightmare - well, apart from Finesse's, obviously, but apart from that - the worst nightmare in the free world.

LYRIC
Well, on the plus side, I now really don't feel so guilty about the Margaret Thatcher in a feather boa thing.

CHRONAL
I need a drink.

AMITY
I need a hug.

LYRIC
Come here...

He crouches beside her and hugs her. SHIFT purrs and rubs her face against AMITY's shoulder again. CHRONAL stands, looking determined.

CHRONAL
It's fine. This is a good one to end on. It means we can find out who we need to punch in order to get Finesse out. Everyone ready?

LYRIC
Captain Ready.

WRAITH
Ready for what?

LYRIC
The last nightmare. It's Amity's. We're going to get tied up and forced to listen to Sintaro's plans.

WRAITH
Oh, yeah.

They all get up and walk glumly up the stairs, CHRONAL in the lead and SHIFT walking beside him, still happily a tiger. They reach the top and look at the only door on the landing, right in front of them and incredibly elaborate. AMITY walks up and puts her hand on the door handle, but just as she's about to turn it she gasps. SHIFT looks up at her, growling.

LYRIC (drawing his sword)
What is it?

AMITY
It's Finesse. She's... angry. Really, really angry.

LYRIC
Oh. Well, that sounds about right.

SHIFT swishes her tail, and CHRONAL nods.

CHRONAL (determinedly)
We'll get her out. Ready?

WRAITH
This sucks.

AMITY
Ready.

She turns the handle and they walk in; there's a bright flash, and suddenly CHRONAL, AMITY, WRAITH and LYRIC are all lined up against a wall, their hands chained above their heads and feet chained to the floor. Above their heads is a long bar with a glowing light above each of them. SHIFT is in a bell jar, rapidly changing from small animal to small animal. AMITY reaches out automatically to calm her and the light above her brightens; she cries out, and it dims.

AMITY
I can't feel any of you...

CHRONAL (thoughtfully)
No, I can't freeze time, either. I think that's a power inhibitor.

MR SINTARO
Very good, Scribblers. And so many of you have made it to the final hurdle! Good work, good work.

He steps forwards out of the shadows, followed by a smirking BLOCK and a crazy-looking ERASER, although she always looks crazy, so no change there. MEDIUM is leaning against a wall, looking bored. DISCHORD is grinning, sitting on a table. There is no sign of METAL MAN, but at the back of the room by a massive computer bank is another man, apparently in his fifties and wearing an odd robe. He is ignoring them.

WRAITH
How exactly do we beat this nightmare?

CHRONAL
By breaking free and escaping, I suppose. No idea how, mind. Sorry, that was basically useless information. Shouldn't have said.

MR SINTARO
Oh, you can't escape. You're quite helpless, time lord. Just as I planned!

There's a pause as the Scribblers all look bored. MR SINTARO looks expectantly at them.

AMITY
Oh, sorry, no. We don't do feeder lines. It's against our charter.

MR SINTARO (taken aback)
Oh.

Beat.

Really?

CHRONAL
It was Finesse. She disapproves of that sort of thing.

MR SINTARO
Well, I must say, this is going to make things awkward.

WRAITH
It happens a lot. We're used to it.

MR SINTARO
Oh, very well. Where was I? Oh yes: just as I planned! You see, Scribblers, I've made a new... aquaintence. May I introduce the Guardian?

He gestures to the robed man in the back, who completely ignores him, absorbed in the machinery.

MR SINTARO
He's a man of unusual gifts. He's fourteen years old, although he may not look it to you. You see, the Guardian has the ability to advance his body forwards or backwards in age. He can be any age he pleases for as long as he likes. Quite fascinating, really.

WRAITH
So why's he fifty?

MR SINTARO
Because it's not just his body that ages; his mind does, too! Fascinating, isn't it? When he ages himself he doesn't just grow up, he also gains all of the knowledge he will have by that age. Like seeing the future of your own timeline.

AMITY
My god.

CHRONAL
The futuretech around the place. He built it? That's why everything's so advanced?

MR SINTARO
Indeed. The Guardian will, in the future, become an engineer. He knows - or will know - this technology very well indeed.

AMITY
But surely building it now will change the future?

MR SINTARO
Oh, the future is always changing, my dear. That's how it works. It's only dangerous to him.

AMITY
Does he know that?

DISCHORD
Not anymore.

CHRONAL
Wow. That's textbook evil.

MR SINTARO
Thank you. In any event, I enlisted his help for this little project. I wanted a way to get hold of you all, and this seemed supurb.

AMITY
But... you put it online. There were user comments on it. How on earth - ?

MR SINTARO
Oh that was simple. We -

CHRONAL
Let me guess. Once you'd tested it on some innocent people you got the Guardian to send it to our computer and look like a Google search result when we typed in any of about a million words.

MR SINTARO
Something like that, yes. He really is useful.

CHRONAL
But why? Why do this, why go to all this effort to make some elaborate torture - ?

MR SINTARO
Oh, several reasons. Fun, mostly. I rather like torture. Here's some for you, Chronal -

He presses a button on the wall and a giant TV screen appears, bearing the words, "Doctor Who endings Series' 7 onwards."

CHRONAL
Argh! What!? Why, I've had my nightmare?!?

MR SINTARO
Because I'm evil! Also, I hate you the most.

CHRONAL
Why?!

MR SINTARO (suddenly raving, all poise gone)
Why? Why? I'll tell you why! You were everything I wanted to be! You had fame, and glory, and powers, but most of all you had actual Power! Look at the people you led! Look at your team! A man who can make words into being, a woman who can become any living thing, a man who can bend light, a woman who can change a person's entire soul in the blink of an eye! You were the most powerful man on the planet and I worked to become you! And then you gave it to the girl with no individual powers!

There is a brief silence.

WRAITH
He's completely mental.

AMITY
Yes.

CHRONAL
Utterly.

LYRIC struggles to speak, but the light above him brightens and he subsides.

AMITY
Hang on; did you do this to get rid of Finesse?

MR SINTARO
Yes. Well, partly. I like torture, what can I say?

WRAITH
Completely mental.

To the side, unnoticed by the bad guys, MEDIUM suddenly leaps up, about to speak before crumpling silently to the floor. The Scribblers all look slightly nervously at her and exchange glances. The bad guys are completely oblivious.

MR SINTARO
Anyway; shall we continue? I do so love ends of series.

The light suddenly vanishes above WRAITH's head. He smiles.

CHRONAL
No!

AMITY
Argh! You can't make us look!

BLOCK
Wait; the lights -

The light above LYRIC winks out as SINTARO whirls back to look, the spoilers still unplayed. LYRIC grins.

LYRIC
Ropes -

ERASER (all echo-y)
Tongue.

LYRIC screams, blood pouring from his mouth as AMITY and CHRONAL both do the 'No!' thing. SINTARO, DISCHORD and BLOCK all fall down, neatly tied up. ERASER smiles, putting a hand on either side of LYRIC's head and leaning up to kiss his forehead -

- and suddenly, a pipe appears out of nowhere, crashing into her skull and knocking her sideways. FINESSE appears at the other end of it, livid.

FINESSE
You sick bitch!

MR SINTARO
Stop her!

ERASER goes to speak but is interrupted by the pipe again, which knocks her out. FINESSE blurs, apparently hijacking SINTARO's own powers, and appears behind DISCHORD, one hand firmly gripping his hair. He shouts out as she seizes his powers and uses them to send the others into catatonic states, them drags him over to the other Scribblers.

FINESSE
Lyric? I need you to focus, okay?

AMITY (frantic)
She took - how do we - ?

FINESSE
I'm going to go into his mind and pull the right words out. He's going to use them to make himself a new tongue.

WRAITH
Will that work?

FINESSE
If he focuses. Lyric? Are you ready?

He nods. DISCHORD squeals again and then FINESSE is in control.

FINESSE
Digastric, mylo-hyoid, geniohyoid, hyoglossus, genioglossus, middle constrictor, digastric, stylo-hyoid, stylo-pharyngeus, stylo-hyoid ligament, styloglossus, superior constrictor, sinew, tendon, thew, tissue, ligament, lingula, tongue -

LYRIC (panting)
That's it! That's it. I can do taste buds...

FINESSE
Excellent.

She looks down at DISCHORD again and he convulses once before going still. FINESSE drops him and turns to SHIFT's jar, in which she's become a small flowering shrub to deal which the oxygen problem. FINESSE pulls off the lid and turns SHIFT into a guinea pig before lifting her gently out onto the floor and transforming her back. SHIFT sways, and clings onto FINESSE, who hugs her back.

SHIFT
Oh, my head... I think... my roots need sorting...

WRAITH
Ha ha. Shift thinks she has roots.

AMITY
You know that's mean, Wraith.

SHIFT
Are you shaking?

FINESSE (quietly)
Probably.

CHRONAL
Ooh, my light has gone off! Now I can vibrate the chains until they break.

LYRIC
Ha ha. Chronal said 'vibrate'.

CHRONAL's chains snap and he steps out of them, looking around for an off switch for the others.

CHRONAL
This might be one!

He presses it. Music starts playing; a song apparently called, "We're whalers on the moon." He presses it again and the music turns off.

CHRONAL
I love that song.

LYRIC
How about the one marked 'Chain Control Switch?'

CHRONAL
You know what? I think there's a chance you're right.

He presses it. The chains all fall open.

WRAITH
Thank Christ for that. I was going to get Lawyer Girl to sue them for a new set of arms.

LYRIC
What is it with you and Lawyer Girl?

WRAITH
She takes care of my litigation needs.

SHIFT
Is the room really spinning?

FINESSE
Yes. We won the game. It's sending us home.

The room does the spinny thing, you know the drill, you read it last time unless you skim-read my stage directions, in which case you deserve to miss the cool special effects.

Scene the Last. Back in da Pit. The Scribblers are all lying on the floor around the board game, sitting innocently on the coffee table. They all stir and groan; CHRONAL gets up first and moves over to FINESSE, pulling her into a hug.

WRAITH
That was lame. I said it sounded lame.

SHIFT
No one likes the person chanting 'I told you so' in the corner, Wraith. What should we do with the board?

LYRIC mutters something under his breath and it rots away to weird paper goo.

LYRIC
I killed it.

WRAITH
Yeah, but you've left -

SHIFT
Weird Paper Goo.

LYRIC
Oh, well. I'll recycle it.

He takes one end of the table, WRAITH takes the other and they march it away to the recycling bins to tip it away.

AMITY
It really wasn't your fault, you know.

FINESSE
I know. I worked it out after a while. If both buttons would have killed you then it literally wasn't my fault you'd died, because I couldn't have stopped it. And then I noticed Lyric.

SHIFT
We all notice Lyric. It's hard not to when he says things.

FINESSE
This one had taken his jacket off to try and stop the gas. When he'd fallen his top had ridden up, and I noticed: no belly button. They were clones.

CHRONAL (shudders)
God, I hate clones.

FINESSE
They were you, though. And they died, right in front of me.

CHRONAL holds her tighter. AMITY and SHIFT both step in for a group hug. They all become a big ball of limbs.

AMITY
I can -

FINESSE
No. I'd rather mourn them. They were real people, for all that they only really lived for five minutes. And - it's a conscience thing, I suppose. Knowing it hurts means knowing I'm nothing like Sintaro, or any of them.

LYRIC
A hug! A big one!

He joins in.

SHIFT
I think Wraith should join in too!

AMITY
So do I!

WRAITH
I don't. I don't like human contact. Or, wait; is this the make-Finesse-feel-better hug?

LYRIC
Maybe. I just joined in.

AMITY
Yes, it is.

WRAITH
Fine. As long as none of you tell. I don't want people calling me a girl.

He tentatively joins in.


FINESSE
Wraith's a girl.

CHRONAL
Look at his girly behaviour.

SHIFT
I can't believe how girly he is.

AMITY
Totally.

LYRIC (effeminately)
I bet he likes boys.

WRAITH
... I hate you all.

Fin.

Saturday 10 January 2009

2 of 52


Friday 2 January 2009

1 of 52


Carnival: Crossover 1 of 8


Avada Kedavra!