More Skittles and a Science Fiction Ending in 2039 or maybe a backstory in Act One
Act Three A Bill of Divorcement
Woe unto you hypocrites and Pharisees
Life has changed a lot since the 1930s here. Technology is different, outfits are different, attitudes are different, thank you has changed to "no problem".
The cast has arrived for Cocker Spaniel-zilla, one of the many pets of our Godzilla. Regrettably, this is the wrong set, they've accidentally arrived at the Katharine Hepburn tribute.
Japanese people running from what?
We could do the opening scene of dozens of women outside Buckingham Palace, mopping the sidewalks while hundreds of troops in Beefeaters aim dysfunctional firehoses at the sidewalks in order to mist clean their uniforms, stay cool, and clean the sidewalks. We could have a hologram of the real Katharine Hepburn in the role of Lady Cynthia Darrington in the real Christopher Strong for about five minutes.\Rational people like me just don't spit out scripts like bread slicers slice bread.
https://www.imdb.com/name/nm0000031/?ref_=fn_al_nm_1
Maybe we shall get back to this one later, if and when the numbers arrive. For now, this is fifteen minutes of insane late-night television on the cheep cheep cheep - in other words, our music band is the birds. This is a budget so low, that even people on a "budgerigar" would be aghast.
We can't even afford to hire homeless people as movie extras, that's how low our production budget is. I don't even have a smart phone for stills. Sure, I have dozens of mouths to keep busy on smart phones.
This is madness that has nothing to do with any script. Imagine the sort of sordid nightmare that Hillary Fairfield might have walked into now. It's madness. He, beaten, figuratively crucified, spirit broken, returned home, tired, hungry to a scene of bedlam, chaos, noise, dirt and poverty.
2039, Beverly Hills
Hilary Fairfield returns to his home in Beverly Hills after spending 15 years as a volunteer in Antarctica, developing new vaccines against fatal illnesses while monitoring scientific devices to measure ice packs. His wife was reported as missing, while returning back from a visit in a Sky City orbital. The only problem being, his pocket calendar states that his date home was 2029. His SmartWatch is set to 2029, it still has a brilliant LED interface, the weather report works from the National Weather Service, and he can play a few video games. However, he is unable to call anyone on his contact list. In fact, he is unable to hail a ride from Lyft or any cabriolet service. He attempts to turn on his smartphone, which does not work, again, except for the time and weather - it will not connect to the internet. Thus, his shiny plastic, glass and metal devices are sharp, thin, new-looking things that don't help him figure out what is going on.
He walks to the local bus depot, given that the buses are not working, to see what is going on. There's nobody there. So, he goes into the garage, turns on the HDTV, and there's no transmissions. There's no newspapers, magazines, not even any litter. Sure, there's a few hungry cats and dogs around the bus station garage, and, miraculously, a closed bag of dog food. There's cats living in empty bags of cat and dog food, as well as a new-looking slightly splintery, pale, thin, obviously made of refabricated wood pallet just covered with unopened bags of pet chow. The tap water in the garage still works.
Hilary, in his smart sneakers, is able to time his paces, and light his way around darkened rooms in the garage, while carrying bags of cat food and dog food. The animals are friendly, pleasant, well-mannered creatures who seem to be neatly groomed and well-fed. Hilary opts to make this a regular routine, he likes animals. The lights go on, evidently, he is in a station room with one-way glass and panelling from some unknown place of unusual materials. The walls light up? This is where he logs into a control room computer, places himself on the payroll, clocks in, and clocks out. For the first time in an unknown amount of years, the man has a vocation, a calling, a career.
The door falls off its hinges, rust, the door itself looks to be glowing with incandescent fungus. The only problem is, the house is full of large, leaping lizards and birds, who chirp and squawk in wild abandon . from unseen places, in fear, in the dimly lit house, somewhere, at the sight of a human. His worst nightmare, he leaves an open bag of cat food, a bottle of water, a box of crackers, and a note for his wife, and goes back home to the Los Angeles city bus terminal.
Well, we'll get to that later, as well.
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