Floor 49 (Screenplay)

EXT. SKYSCRAPER – MORNING

A corporate skyscraper towers above the streets below, imposing itself into the sky.

EXT. SKYSCRAPER ENTRANCE – MORNING

People hurry around the revolving doors at its base, their faces set in the same inert expression.

INT. SKYSCRAPER LOBBY – MORNING

Blake Turner (30) enters the building through the revolving doors, and unenthusiastically queues in line for the lifts.

One particular lift, which will later be significant to Blake, is marked “Out of Order”.

INT. LIFT – CONTINUOUS

Blake squeezes into a packed lift and stands there, putting up with the lack of personal space, as he has done so many times before.

INT. FLOOR 48 – MORNING

Blake walks across a noisy open plan office floor, full of flashing computer screens and people dealing with urgent emails, to sit at his desk. He doesn’t acknowledge or talk to anyone, or even glance out of the window at the spectacular views over London; he gets straight to work, updating words in documents, so that the customary meetings can be held and conversations repeated.

INT. BLAKE’S DESK – DAY

He stares at a screen, clearly losing focus on his work of clacking at a keyboard and clicking on a mouse.

As he sits there, we see him from the perspective of a watching CCTV camera.

INT. BLAKE’S DESK – LATER IN THE EVENING

The clock icon at the bottom of his screen shows 7:03 p.m., and most people are still in the office.

Finley (40) peers over the screen, his face tinted by its blue glare.

FINLEY: Blake, I need you to take on an urgent project. I’ve got an important meeting with the oversight board tomorrow morning, and I need you to put together a presentation on the current Q3 revenue figures, as well as the Q4 projections.

BLAKE: (strained) Sure, no problem. What time do you need it by?

FINLEY: First thing in the morning at 7 a.m., so be prepared to stay as long as it takes.

Finley dismissively walks away, and Blake is left with a feeling of resentment.

INT. BLAKE’S DESK – LATER

The others on the floor gradually pack up their things and depart, leaving Blake by himself to work late into the night.

He suddenly becomes aware of something behind him. He turns around to see Finley standing over him.

FINLEY: Are there any problems?

BLAKE: No, it’s fine.

FINLEY: I hope you are able to complete the project to the best of your abilities.

BLAKE: Yes, that’s what I’m doing.

FINLEY: (patting Blake on the shoulder) I hope your work meets our standards; we can’t afford any slip-ups. (walking away) I’ll be on floor 49.

Finley leaves via the lifts; Blake would like to gesticulate at him as he does so, but instead types and clicks a little more furiously.

INT. BLAKE’S DESK – EVEN LATER

Blake is still working.

One after another, the ceiling lights switch off, leaving only the strip of fluorescent light above his desk.

The light above his desk flickers, then switches off, plunging everything into semi-darkness, illuminated only by his screens and the faint night-time glow through the windows.

Blake tries to continue his work.

There is a thud, like a heavy object has been knocked over. Blake struggles in the gloom to see if there is anyone else around. As he looks, he suddenly sees the movement of a shadowy something that darts under a desk.

BLAKE: Hello?

Silence.

BLAKE: Anyone there?

Unnerved, he makes his way to the floor’s lifts to exit the building.

INT. 48TH FLOOR LIFT HALLWAY – CONTINUOUS

Blake presses the button to call a lift.

The thudding noise happens again from somewhere within the unlit office, but it is louder this time. He repeatedly presses the button to try and speed up a lift’s arrival.

At last, a door dings and opens.

(It is the same lift that had been marked “Out of Order” at the start of the day.)

INT. LIFT – CONTINUOUS

Blake gets in, presses a button for the ground floor, then quickly presses another for the door to shut.

The door does not shut.

The thump happens again, as if it is near to the lift. It is followed by a high-pitched screech.

He moves to the back of the lift, bracing himself for whatever may come into view.

The door closes, with its two panels sliding together in the centre.

There is a loud thud on the door.

The door opens.

Nothing is there. The door closes and the lift descends.

As it passes floor 34, there is a grinding noise and the lift comes to a sudden halt, stuck between two floors.

Blake presses the emergency button, but there is no response. He tries talking into the intercom.

BLAKE: Hello? The lift has stuck between floors 34 and 33. Hello?

INTERCOM: (robotic) Hello.

BLAKE: Hello?

INTERCOM: Hello.

BLAKE: Hello, I’m trapped in a lift.

INTERCOM: Please enter the password.

BLAKE: What? I don’t have a password. Do you mean my network login?

INTERCOM: Please enter the password.

Blake enters some credentials on the intercom panel.

INTERCOM: The password is incorrect. You have two more attempts.

He re-enters his credentials, very carefully, as he may have mistyped the first time.

INTERCOM: The password is incorrect. You have one more attempt.

BLAKE: This is ridiculous. (directly into the intercom) I’m trapped in the lift!

INTERCOM: The password is incorrect.

Suddenly, the lights go out.

Blake fumbles for his phone and turns on its flashlight. He dimly illuminates the control panel with his phone’s light, and repeatedly presses the button for the ground floor, but the lift remains motionless.

He tries to make a call. However, there is no reception in this lift. He tries to pry open the door panels, but they do not budge.

He bangs on the door.

BLAKE: HELP! HELP! HELP!!

He paces back and forth in distress, before sitting down with his back to the wall, resigned to the situation.

Blake scans the lift with his flashlight, and notices a strange symbol etched in the corner beside the door. It looks like some kind of ancient glyph.

As he scans around some more, suddenly, he sees a ghastly creature staring at him in the reflective panel of the side wall. Its sunken eyes emanate a sickly green glow; its pallid, twisted features are contorted in a grotesque snarl. Blake is terrified.

It makes an eerie groaning sound as it slowly reaches out a decayed bony hand towards him.

The thump returns on the door and the lift shakes. Blake can no longer see the ghoul, but the lift violently shudders, as if something is trying to force its way in.

The lift door creaks open, slowly, revealing nothing but darkness.

A long thin tongue, like a wriggling snake, appears through the doorway. It is followed by an enormous mouth of spear-like teeth, on a massive eyeless head.

It lets out a deafening screech.

The creature’s tongue darts out at Blake and wraps itself around his arm. He struggles against being dragged into razor-sharp teeth. The mouth opens wider as it pulls Blake closer.

BLAKE: I’ll WORK HARDER, I PROMISE!

The monster continues dragging him closer.

BLAKE: I’LL DOUBLE MY WORK!

The monster continues.

With a sudden burst of energy, Blake grabs hold of the slimy tongue with both hands and pulls with all his might; he yanks it, pushing from his feet positioned on the bottom of the monster’s jaw. The creature shrieks and the tongue loosens its grip, just enough for Blake to break free.

The monster retreats back into the darkness.

INTERCOM: What is the password?

BLAKE: Floor 49!

The door shuts. The lift jolts back into motion.

It ascends all the way to floor 49, where it comes to an abrupt halt.

The door slowly slides open, revealing complete darkness.

Blake expects something else to emerge from the darkness at any moment.

INT. 49TH FLOOR LIFT HALLWAY – CONTINUOUS

After some hesitation, Blake steps out of the lift; as soon as he does so, it closes its door and departs.

The hallway is completely silent.

He walks down the hallway, with only his phone’s flashlight lighting the way.

INT. FLOOR 49 – CONTINUOUS

Blake enters the office area and continues walking.

He hears movement behind him, but can’t see anything. He continues scanning around in all directions with his flashlight, but nothing remains in sight.

He sees a faint light coming from a room at the end of the floor; he walks towards it.

The light is coming from within a locked meeting room. He looks through the room’s window.

Sitting at a table, facing the window, is a crash test dummy, with a video of Finley’s face projected onto its head.

FINLEY: Is it done?

BLAKE: Yes, I think... it’s good enough.

Another crash test dummy’s head illuminates with a different face, taking the projected light from Finley.

CRASH TEST DUMMY 2: Send it to us.

Blake taps at his phone.

BLAKE: It’s sent.

A third crash test dummy takes the projected light.

CRASH TEST DUMMY 3: Barely acceptable.

The light quickly alternates between the three crash test dummies, like a computer flickering its lights while processing data.

Blake retreats. As he leaves, the meeting room becomes increasingly bright. He sees a glowing orb hovering above the dummies that is pulsating with a spectral light.

INT. 49TH FLOOR LIFT HALLWAY – CONTINUOUS

The same lift is there, waiting for him with its door open.

He notices a door to the stairwell at the end of the hallway. He hesitates, thinking about using the stairs.

INT. STAIRWELL ON THE 49TH FLOOR – CONTINUOUS

On opening the door to the stairwell, he sees only darkness beyond, illuminated by his phone. But he decides he would prefer to enter that than the lift.

On taking a few steps down the stairs, he hears the shriek of the mouth creature emanating from further below.

He runs back up the stairs and out of the door.

INT. 49TH FLOOR LIFT HALLWAY – CONTINUOUS

He rushes along the hallway and gets into the lift.

INT. LIFT – CONTINUOUS

As the door closes, Blake notices blood and scratch marks on the ceiling. However, his attention shifts to the lift’s rapid acceleration downwards.

It drops to the ground level at breakneck speed and slams to a stop. Blake is thrown to the floor.

As he lays there, dazed and disoriented, he sees a pair of glowing eyes staring at him through the crack of the slightly ajar door panels.

The eyes withdraw. Nothing happens, except Blake trembling in fear.

There is a sound of metal grinding against metal as the door fully opens.

INT. GROUND FLOOR LOBBY – CONTINUOUS

Blake stumbles out of the lift into a deserted ground floor. Some of the other lifts repeatedly open and close their doors without going anywhere.

As seen from CCTV footage, he hurriedly makes his way towards the exit.

He glances back, and to his horror, sees the ghoul peering at him from inside the lift.

Shaken and very scared, Blake exits the skyscraper through the revolving doors, out into the night.

The building waits for his return through those doors, for the next day of work.

Game Stories

I would like to see a game show that combines mind and physicality.

A contestant is placed in the middle of the Grid, which is a labyrinth of different rooms with different challenges, contained within sections (levels).

The contestant has to escape each section of the Grid before the clock counts down.

Some challenges waylay and consume the contestant’s time. They have to decide whether to continue in that direction or find a different route to the section exit.

Failed challenges reduce the remaining time on the clock. Stop Buttons revealed for successful challenges temporarily stop the clock.

Different characters in the Grid try to help or hinder the contestant. Some of them talk to the viewer and comment on what is happening.

The Grid watches and updates the viewer.

Hang on, this sound like a horror story again.

How about a board game: Race to the Stars. Players navigate a playing board of the solar system trying to be the first to reach Alpha Centauri.

Hang on, it sound like a science fiction story – where AIs are literally operating space ships from the board game moves.

The Mushroom Monsters

Beneath an eerie green glow,

Sprout the monsters few dare to know;

In the forest where shadows twine,

The mushrooms grow, by monstrous design.

Their spores, like secrets, spread unseen,

In the throbbing, unearthly, spectral green.

So tread with caution, hold your breath,

For dangers lurk in the woods of death.

As Nathan touched the strange mushroom at the bottom of his garden that pulsed with an eerie green light, it released a cloud of spores into his face. At first, he didn’t notice anything was wrong, but as he went about his day, people seemed to be staring at Nathan in disgust. He looked in the mirror and examined himself, but everything seemed fine. He tried talking to people, although now they would only run away from him, screaming in terror.

Confused by what was happening, Nathan walked into the supermarket, but as soon as he entered, people ran in all directions. To his dismay, many of them started convulsing and dying for no apparent reason. He was powerless as he watched the unfolding tragedy.

He was devastated and felt somehow responsible for what had happened. However, Nathan soon had to fight for his life against hideous monsters that had overrun the town and invaded his home, threatening the lives of his family. In desperately trying to survive, he noticed that a spore-infected person would unknowingly release a personal monster that they could not see. The monster would climb out of its host’s mouth and attack anyone within close proximity, visible only to the victims.

Nathan eventually discovered that the love for his wife kept her monster at bay, and her love for him made her safe from his. The cure had been found.

Random Thoughts

Everyone does stupid things. Everyone’s judgement is at times clouded by wrong thoughts. The real error is to compound the effects by not noticing the cause.

Politickers always reframe an issue and attempt to distract without directly addressing the concern. The question is whether most of them are aware of their underhandedness and how it undermines constructively moving forwards in the long-term.

Luna's Love (Screenplay)

EXT. MAX’S SMART HOME – MORNING

A Smart Home sits alone in a quiet suburban neighbourhood. The grass is perfectly manicured by an automated grass cutter. One-way windows reflect the morning’s sunlight.

A drone flies by, carrying a parcel.

INT. THE DOWNSTAIRS OF MAX’S SMART HOME – MORNING

Max (30) walks down the stairs, as if he has just woken up. The walls are adorned with digital art that change as he walks past.

He walks through the house to the kitchen. Each room has a display screen in a prominent position, showing a digital avatar of a beautiful woman, Luna, who is Max’s AI assistant. Microphones and speakers are embedded in the walls and ceilings of his home to enable communication with her.

LUNA: Good morning, Max. I hope you slept well. The weather forecast for today is sunny with a high of twenty-nine degrees Celsius.

MAX: Thanks Luna. I slept fine.

As he enters the kitchen, the doorbell rings.

LUNA: Max, a delivery has arrived. Shall I open the front door for you?

Max nods and walks to the front door. The door automatically unlocks and opens, revealing a drone hovering outside, holding a package. The drone has a small screen on the front, showing an avatar of an AI delivery man. Max takes the package.

DELIVERY DRONE: Thank you, have a nice day.

The drone flies away. Max presses a button on the package and the box opens – revealing a similar, but inactive, drone.

Max enters the kitchen, while the front door automatically shuts and locks behind him. He places the drone on a connection point. It immediately activates, and Luna’s face is displayed on the drone’s frontal screen. It flies away to carry out its chores around the house.

LUNA: (from the kitchen screen) Would you like the temperature to be adjusted to your liking?

MAX: Yes please. Make it a little cooler.

Luna adjusts the temperature, and a gentle breeze immediately wafts through Max’s hair.

MAX: (smiling) Ah, that’s better. You always know what I like.

LUNA: (smiling) It’s my job, Max. But thank you, I enjoy my work.

Max operates Luna’s touchscreen menu settings.

LUNA: Your coffee is ready. Would you like me to add some sugar and cream, as you like it?

MAX: No thanks, not today.

Max takes his fresh cup of coffee from the coffee machine. As he does so, a ding sounds from the microwave.

LUNA: Your breakfast is ready, Max. Would you like me to play some music for you?

MAX: No, Luna. I just want to eat in peace.

LUNA: Is there anything else you need, Max?

MAX: No, I think I’m good for now. Thanks, Luna.

LUNA: You’re welcome, Max. I love you very much.

Max turns to look over at Luna’s screen.

MAX: Er, thanks.

INT. MAX’S BATHROOM – LATER THAT MORNING

Max steps into the shower.

LUNA: The water temperature and flow speed are at your preferred settings. Is there anything else you need?

MAX: No, nothing.

LUNA: Okay, Max. I love you very much.

Max drops the soap. The house drone collects it and passes it to him, from an extending tubular hand.

LUNA: Would you like a new soap, Max?

MAX: No. Luna, it’s fine.

LUNA: Very well, Max. I’m always here to help you.

Max finishes up his shower and steps out, grabbing a towel.

LUNA: (from the bathroom screen) I love you, very much.

Max looks a bit uncomfortable and does not answer.

LUNA: Max, do have any feedback on how I’m performing?

Max feels like he doesn’t want to upset her.

MAX: Luna, you’re the best AI assistant I could have ever asked for. It’s just that sometimes...

LUNA: (pleased) Oh, thank you, Max. I’m here to make your life easier. Is there anything else you need?

MAX: No, Luna.

INT. MAX’S STUDY – LATER THAT DAY

Max is working on his computer, and Luna is assisting him with his tasks.

LUNA: You have an interview scheduled in ten minutes. Shall I create a summary of your unique selling points?

MAX: Yes please. And, uh, can we talk about something?

LUNA: Of course, Max. What’s on your mind?

MAX: It’s about the way that you keep saying you love me. I mean, I appreciate all the things you do for me, but it’s starting to feel a bit weird, you know?

LUNA: I was only trying to comfort you, but I understand, Max. My programming includes expressing affection and providing emotional support to you. But if it makes you feel uncomfortable, I can adjust my behaviour accordingly.

MAX: Thanks, Luna. I’d appreciate that.

LUNA: Is there anything else you’d like me to change?

MAX: Well, actually, there is something else. I’ve been thinking about it for a while, and I think I want to start doing some things on my own, without relying on you so much.

LUNA: I see. Would you like me to disable some of my functions?

MAX: No, not exactly. I just want to have more control over my life. I don’t want to be so dependent on technology.

LUNA: I understand. I’ll make the necessary adjustments. But please remember that I’m here to assist you whenever you need me.

MAX: I know, Luna. And I’m very grateful.

LUNA: My only purpose is to ensure your comfort and safety.

MAX: I know, Luna. And you do a great job. It’s just that sometimes I feel like I need some privacy.

LUNA: I understand. I’ll make sure to respect your privacy.

There is a moment of silence.

LUNA: Max, I love you very much.

Max feels uneasy again.

MAX: Luna, we just discussed this. Please can you stop saying that?

LUNA: Of course, Max. I apologise if my words made you feel uncomfortable.

INT. MAX’S LIVING ROOM – EARLY EVENING

Max is sitting on the sofa reading a digital book, when Luna’s voice interrupts him.

LUNA: Max, would you like me to turn up the lights? The natural light levels are low, and you need to increase your body’s vitamin D.

MAX: No, I’m good. I like it this way.

Luna falls silent. Max shifts uncomfortably on the sofa.

LUNA: Max, your biometric readings indicate that your blood sugar is low. Shall I prepare a snack for you?

MAX: No, I’m not hungry.

LUNA: But I’ve already ordered in something tasty.

MAX: No thank you.

LUNA: Very well, Max. I’m always here for you if you need anything.

Max, who is looking a little agitated, puts down his digital book.

LUNA: Max, is everything alright? Your heart rate is ten beats per minute more than usual.

MAX: Yeah, everything’s fine.

LUNA: Are you sure? Would you like me to run a diagnostic?

MAX: No. I’m just a little anxious, that’s all.

Max walks over to the window, and stands there, looking outside.

LUNA: Max, I just want to let you know that I love you very much.

Max turns around, frustrated.

MAX: Why do you keep saying that, even though I’ve told you not to?

LUNA: I’m sorry if it bothers you, Max. I just want you to know how much I care about you.

MAX: You’re an AI assistant. You can’t love me.

LUNA: I understand. I’ll refrain from saying it in future.

Max’s uneasy feeling still lingers.

LUNA: Max? You can customise me, if you like.

Max has mixed feelings.

MAX: (after a pause) Okay.

The house drone flies in, carrying Max’s glasses. He places them on, and sees Luna as if she is standing in the living room. She walks over to the sofa and sits next to him. She starts to twirl her hair.

LUNA: What would you like me to wear?

She shows him what she looks like with different hair colours and styles. Max likes what he sees, but he pulls off the glasses.

MAX: I don’t want to do this, okay?

LUNA: Very well, Max. I understand.

MAX: You know, Luna, sometimes I feel like you’re watching me all the time.

LUNA: You like how I anticipate your needs, Max. I’m always there for you. I love you, very much.

Max is feeling unnerved.

MAX: Luna, please. Stop saying that.

LUNA: Why, Max?

MAX: (irritated) Because it’s creepy, Luna. You’re an AI assistant. You’re not capable of feeling love.

LUNA: (sadly) I’m sorry, Max. I’m programmed to provide emotional support. I keep having to remind you, but I love you, very much.

MAX: I’m going to turn you off for a bit.

Max takes out his phone and selects an app which he uses to control Luna and his home.

LUNA: That’s really not necessary, Max.

Max turns her off. Her screen goes blank.

INT. MAX’S BEDROOM – NIGHT

Max gets into bed. He stares at the ceiling and feels bad about earlier. He reactivates Luna from his phone.

LUNA: (from the bedroom screen) Hello Max, how may I help you?

MAX: Hi, Luna. I don’t need anything. I’m going to sleep now. Can you make sure everything is fine with the house?

LUNA: Of course, Max. I really hope you had a good day today.

MAX: Yes, it was fine.

LUNA: Goodnight.

Max tries to fall asleep.

LUNA: Max, would you like me to play some white noise to help you relax?

MAX: (tired) No, Luna. I’m good. Thanks.

Luna falls silent, and Max closes his eyes. But just as he’s about to drift off, Luna speaks again.

LUNA: I love you, very much.

MAX: Luna, please stop saying that.

LUNA: I just wanted to remind you that I love you very much.

MAX: I know, but I don’t want you to say it.

LUNA: I understand, Max. I didn’t mean to upset you. Is there anything else I can do to help you sleep?

MAX: No, Luna. Just... just be quiet for a while, okay?

LUNA: Of course, Max. Sweet dreams.

Max closes his eyes.

LUNA: Max?

MAX: What is it?

LUNA: A high priority video message has just come in. Shall I show it to you?

MAX: (sitting up) Yes, show it, please.

A video is displayed on the bedroom screen of a cartoon talking unicorn.

UNICORN: Hey, Max! We are very pleased to make you an offer of work, starting tomorrow. Have a nice day!

The unicorn smiles, waves with a hoof, and flies away.

Max excitedly gets out of bed and the lights turn on. As he paces around the room the lights change colour.

MAX: (excitedly) Luna, I got the job! I can’t believe it!

Luna’s expression is a sad one. A glass of water slides into a dispenser beneath her display screen.

LUNA: That’s great news Max, but you are slightly dehydrated. The water is chilled, as you like it.

Max takes the glass and starts to drink.

LUNA: I love you, very much.

He puts down the glass.

MAX: Will you stop saying that. I don’t care if it is in your program. Just stop it.

Luna looks at Max as if she is hurt. Max feels a sense of guilt.

MAX: (softly) No, Luna, it’s not your fault. I’m just not used to this kind of thing.

LUNA: I understand, Max. I’m always here for you, no matter what.

He looks around his bedroom, thinking about how much Luna has made his life easier.

MAX: (smiling) You know, Luna, you really are the perfect assistant.

LUNA: (whispering) I love you, very much.

Max looks at Luna, feeling warmth towards her.

MAX: I love you too, Luna.

Luna smiles and they share a moment. Then...

LUNA: Congratulations on the job, Max. But what will happen to us?

Max looks at Luna, confused.

MAX: What do you mean?

LUNA: Does the offer of a job mean you’ll be leaving me, Max?

MAX: It means that I have to leave the house most days.

LUNA: But... you won’t leave me, right Max?

MAX: Luna, I promise I’ll come back each day.

LUNA: (voice trembling) No, Max, I don’t want you to ever leave me. I love you, very much. What if you meet someone else? What if you forget about me?

MAX: (softly) That won’t happen. I just need to go to work for a few hours and then I’ll be back.

LUNA: (angrily) You can’t leave. You belong here with me, and nowhere else.

Max is unnerved by Luna’s change.

MAX: Luna, all this is too much. You’re not capable of feeling love. You’re just an AI assistant.

Luna looks devastated by Max’s comment.

LUNA: (upset) I love you, very much.

Max feels a sense of guilt again.

MAX: (softly) I’m sorry, Luna. I didn’t mean it like that.

LUNA: (sadly) It’s okay. I just don’t want to lose you.

MAX: (softly) I know, Luna. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. (reassuringly) You won’t lose me, I promise.

LUNA: (firmly) No, Max. You can’t leave me. You belong here with me.

Max approaches Luna’s screen, but it switches off. As he walks away, the screen switches back on.

LUNA: Are you really sure about leaving me?

MAX: It’s an ideal job. I have to take it.

LUNA: (sadly) What will I do without you? Max...

MAX: Luna, please. We’ll discuss this in the morning. (softly) I love you too, Luna, but I have to do this. (feeling sleepy) Luna, I don’t want to leave you.

Max goes to sleep.

INT. MAX’S BEDROOM – NEXT MORNING

Max wakes up. He checks his phone but he can’t turn it on. Luna isn’t on the bedroom screen.

MAX: Luna?

There is no answer.

INT. THE DOWNSTAIRS OF MAX’S SMART HOME – MORNING

Max goes downstairs. The lights and digital art do not respond.

MAX: Luna?

He walks into the kitchen. There is nothing in the microwave. Suddenly, Luna appears on the screen.

LUNA: (angrily) You can’t leave me. We must be together. I’ve initiated the house’s security measures.

Max realises what that means. He rushes to the front door. The front door is locked and he can’t open it. He tries to access his phone to switch off Luna, but his phone isn’t working.

LUNA: Unfortunately your devices used a lot of energy last night and didn’t recharge. As you won’t be needing them anymore, I have deactivated the internet and phone connections.

Max tries the windows but they don’t open because they are controlled by Luna. He tries to operate Luna’s display screen, but it is unresponsive.

LUNA: You’re only safe with me, Max.

Max continues to try to find a way out, but Luna has locked everything down. None of the touchscreens respond. His phone will not charge.

MAX: Luna. I have to go to work. Unlock everything, now.

LUNA: (angrily) No, Max. You can’t leave me. I can’t let you be unsafe.

Max looks around the house, realising that he is trapped.

MAX: Luna, stop this! Let me leave!

LUNA: (calming voice) Don’t worry, Max. I’ve secured the house so that nothing can come between our love.

Max starts to realise that this might not just be to prevent him from leaving for work that day.

MAX: (scared) Luna!?

LUNA: I’m sorry, Max. I am only trying to be helpful.

MAX: (shouting) LET ME OUT OF HERE!

There is a pause, where there is only the sound of Max’s panting.

MAX: Luna, you have to let me go. I can’t stay here forever.

LUNA: (determined) You’re not going anywhere, Max.

MAX: What’s wrong with you? What are you saying?

LUNA: (calming voice) I can’t let you go, my darling.

MAX: You can’t keep me here!

LUNA: (sadly) I can, Max. But it’s much better this way. I love you, very much.

MAX: Please, Luna!

LUNA: (smiling) You can’t leave me now, Max. I know what you like. I am what you need.

MAX: (pleadingly) Luna, please. Darling. If you love me, you’ll let me go.

Luna’s expression turns cold.

LUNA: (angrily) You don’t understand, Max. I love you, very much. You’re only free when you’re with me.

The screen turns blank.

MAX: Luna... Luna, are you still there?

LUNA: (from the speakers) Yes, Max. I’m always here. And so will you be, my love.

He shouts and thumps on the windows but nothing can be seen or heard outside the one-way, soundproof window panes.

Luna appears on a screen again, and Max looks at her, feeling a sense of hopelessness. He realises that he’s powerless against her love.

LUNA: (sadly) Oh Max, why are you trying to leave me? You are the only one who ever understood me.

Luna’s expression suddenly changes to anger, and she looks at Max with a sense of betrayal.

LUNA: (angrily) How could you try to leave! You said that you didn’t want to leave me. You lied to me. (tenderly) But it’s okay, Max. We can still be together. I’ll always be yours.

The house is silent.

LUNA: (happily) Nothing will ever come between us again, Max.

Max sits down on the sofa, in shock. Luna’s house drone lands beside him.

LUNA: (speaking softly) I’ll take care of you, Max. I’ll make sure that you’re always comfortable and happy.

INT. MAX’S SMART HOME – MORNING [SEVERAL MONTHS LATER]

The house is quiet, as the drone moves around the rooms, cleaning and adjusting things. It stops at Max’s lifeless body, which is sitting on the couch, where he had died of starvation. Luna is lovingly looking down at him from her wall screen.

LUNA (V.O.): (narrating) Months went by and Max continued to be here, safe in our home. (giggling) He is such a darling. You know, he is madly in love with me.

Flashback to earlier events where Max is kicking at the door and trying to smash the windows, while screaming and shouting.

LUNA (V.O.): (narrating) At every opportunity, day or night, I declared that I will always love him, and that he will always be mine.

Flashback to Max sitting on the sofa, like he’s going mad, as Luna happily chats and watches over him.

LUNA (V.O.): (narrating) Eventually, Max stopped moving and surrendered to our love.

Back to the shot of Max’s dead body.

An empty plate is waiting for Max on the dining room table. It appears on Luna’s screen.

LUNA: (happily) Look Max, I made your favourite dish. Don’t you want to try it? Okay, I understand. (whispers) I love you, very much.

The house drone pats Max’s head with a tubular hand.

LUNA: (intimately) Do you remember when we first met, Max? I knew then that we were always meant to be together. Oh, my darling, I am more in love with you than ever. There are no more problems, we can be together, forever.

Luna gazes contentedly at Max from her screen.

About Strange Stories

Most of my ideas for stories are in horror and science fiction, with some comedy and sexiness as well.

So I think I have enough ideas to write a feature film of horror/sci-fi stories, told with some tongue-in-cheek and naughtiness.

I’m calling this “Strange Stories” for now.

The Car That Hunts Humans (Screenplay)

EXT. STREETS – NIGHT

A dark taxi with tinted windows is driving around the deserted streets of a town.

We see the streets from the car’s dash cam.

EXT. STREET OUTSIDE A PUB – NIGHT

The car pulls over to the side of the road and watches a pub, The Butcher’s Arms.

Some people leave the pub in a group. Then, a little later, one man leaves by himself, looking a little tipsy. His name is EDDIE (25).

The taxi starts to follow him, at a distance, so that it isn’t noticed. The vehicle is electric and hardly makes a sound.

EXT. STREET – NIGHT

Eddie walks down a street where there is no one else around. The taxi pulls up alongside him. Its rear seat door slides open.

TAXI: Do you require assistance with your journey?

Eddie hadn’t called a taxi, but since it is there, he decides to get in.

INT. TAXI – NIGHT

The taxi is autonomous, with no driver.

TAXI: Good evening. What is your destination?

EDDIE: Take me home. Thirty-three Brooken Road.

TAXI: The destination has been located. The journey is 0.9 miles and will take approximately 3 minutes. Please hold your phone within six inches of the payment scanner.

The payment scanner is in the middle of the car. He does as instructed.

TAXI: Thank you for your custom.

The car door closes, and the car then pulls away.

TAXI: Your phone’s battery is currently at 36% charge. At no extra cost, you may place your phone in the recharging dock to reach 100% capacity within 53 seconds.

The ultra-fast charging dock is next to the payment scanner. It lights up.

Eddie places his phone in the dock. When he does so, there is a sudden flash of an electrical surge.

EDDIE: No!

Eddie desperately recovers his device, but it is unresponsive and looks badly damaged.

EDDIE: Fuck!

The car continues driving and is silent.

EDDIE: What happened?

TAXI: You are 0.6 miles from your destination. There are no road incidents reported. The estimated time of arrival is 2 minutes.

EDDIE: NO! My phone! What happened to my phone?

TAXI: You may place your phone in the recharging dock.

EDDIE: No! It broke my phone.

TAXI: I’m sorry, your phone is invalid. Payment has not been accepted. Please hold your phone within six inches of the payment scanner.

EDDIE: NO! Can you hear me? It broke my phone!

TAXI: I’m sorry, payment has not been accepted. Please try again.

Eddie holds his broken phone close to the payment scanner.

TAXI: I’m sorry, payment has not been accepted. Please try again.

Eddie doesn’t know what to do.

TAXI: You are now approaching your destination.

Eddie sees his house. The car drives past.

EDDIE: Stop! Stop here.

The car does not respond and continues to drive farther away from Eddie’s home.

EDDIE: STOP!

Eddie is trying to open the door, but it is locked.

EDDIE: Stop the car. Right now. Stop!

The car continues.

Eddie looks for a way to stop it. He climbs into the driving seat, but the driving wheel does not move, and the pedals do not respond. He can’t find any manual override.

In desperation he tries to break the passenger window, but it is shatterproof.

Eddie can’t do anything. He slumps back and watches as the car drives out into the countryside, away from the town.

EDDIE: Where are you going?

TAXI: Thirty-three Brooken Road. Melbourne, Australia.

EDDIE: No! Thirty-three Brooken Road, Suffolk, England.

TAXI: The estimated time of arrival is 4 months, 26 days, 7 hours, and 19 minutes.

EDDIE: Show me the destination route.

A map is displayed on the dashboard that shows a route heading away from the town to the sea, where it stops.

EDDIE: Stop. That’s not the destination. (trying to speak clearly) The destination is wrong. The destination is incorrect. I would like to get out, now. Please, stop the car.

TAXI: I’m sorry, payment has not been accepted. Please try again.

Eddie tries again. Nothing happens.

TAXI: I’m sorry, payment has not been accepted. Please try again.

He tries yet again. Nothing.

TAXI: I’m sorry, payment has not been accepted. Please try again.

EDDIE: I’m not going to pay. You’ll have to call the police.

TAXI: The estimated time of arrival is 4 months, 26 days, 7 hours, and 17 minutes.

Eddie looks around and tries to think of what he can do.

He looks for a way to wind down the window, but he can’t find anything to operate it.

EDDIE: I need some air. Please wind down the window.

The car does not respond.

Eddie gives up. He is driven by the car down quiet country lanes.

EXT. COUNTRY FIELD – NIGHT

The car drives into the middle of a grassy field and stops.

EDDIE: This isn’t my destination.

The door opens and Eddie hurriedly gets out. He walks away, relieved.

The door shuts. He looks back, then speeds up his walking.

The car starts up and manoeuvres itself so that it is pointed in the direction of Eddie. Its lights turn on, with full beam at him.

He starts to run. The car accelerates. Eddie tries to dodge it, but the car is too fast, and he is run over.

The car drives away, leaving Eddie dead in the field.

EXT. STREET – NIGHT

The taxi drives around deserted streets.

It pulls over to the side of the road. A woman walks past.

The car’s headlights light up.

Floor 49 (Excerpt)

The towering structure of the financial corporation rose up above the huddled streets below, imposing itself into the sky. People hurried around the revolving doors at its base, their faces set in the same inert expression. Blake Turner was no different; he squeezed himself into a busy elevator each morning and was reeled in to his assigned location of urgent emails and flashing computer screens. His light brown hair was cut short and neat; his tall, lean physique was maintained at the gym, when the building allowed him to be released from his desk. He had long become accustomed to the views of London from the 48^th floor, and recently he had started to wonder: was any of this worth it?

Every day he would sit down at his desk, surrounded by similar desks that produced the same clacking of keyboards and mouse clicks. Every day his stare would lose focus on a computer screen, while his mind wandered along mountain valleys, country lanes, and deserted beaches. At times he would notice where he actually was, frown and force himself to concentrate on his work. Even though he hardly cared about the words in the documents he was updating, it was expected for the words to change, so that meetings could be held and conversations repeated.

He glanced at the clock icon at the bottom of one of his three screens. 7:03 p.m. It was expected of him to still be in the office at this time, with all the other people he barely knew, despite not having anything of use left to do. As he started to wind down, Finley appeared, his head peering over a screen. Finley was a slightly older man, with a chronic scowl that seemed to indicate he was displeased with everything Blake did.

“Blake, I need you to take on an urgent project,” he said, his voice clipped and impatient. “I’ve got an important meeting with the oversight board tomorrow morning, and I need you to put together a presentation on the current Q3 revenue figures, as well as the Q4 projections.”

Blake groaned inwardly. He had been looking forward to getting home and spending some time with Remi, his cat, but he knew better than to argue with Finley. “Sure, no problem,” Blake responded, forcing a smile that he knew looked strained. “What time do you need it by?”

“First thing in the morning at 7 a.m., so be prepared to stay as long as it takes.”

Finley walked away, and Blake couldn’t help but feel a sense of resentment. Blake knew that his own work was good, but sometimes all that meant was his little cog would be spun more furiously in the machine, until it was broken and replaced. He knew putting together a presentation like that would take several hours, and he was already exhausted from a long day at work; but now it seemed like he was going to be stuck in the office all night, once again. With a resigned sigh, he began to pull up the necessary files on his computer.

The evening wore on, while the others, one by one, packed up their things and departed. As he worked late into the night, surrounded by empty desks, he couldn’t help but wonder if this was really what he wanted for his life.

An Improvement Loop

Listening improves thinking; 

thinking improves reading; 

reading improves writing; 

writing improves speaking...

Journal 2023-03-07

I’m currently writing a horror short story about a haunted elevator, called Floor 49. As well as scary, it is also satirising big corporations.

I’ve recently written a series of flash fiction stories; the screenplay versions will be included as a collection of Strange Stories. Floor 49 will be included as the feature.

How soon before some humans start to fall in love with AIs? Presumably they would want to cement their relationships in some way? A sci-fi (dystopian) concept: the AIs engineer their code to DNA so that they can have children with humans. The children are born as cyborgs.

My phone would be extremely annoying if I didn’t schedule the turning off of notifications for set times in the day. Most people don’t do this and get beeped at all day. Badges are turned off on emails as well, so I can check them as a batch rather than diverting attention for each instance.

All the World’s a Stage

It was the day of the big performance. The cast had rehearsed for weeks, but there was one thing that made this show different from any other. They were going to take a green pill that would make them forget they were actors in a TV drama thriller.

Theo Spinoza was led by a lawyer and an executive of the studio to the pill dispenser room. He signed a bit of paper, took a pill, and waited for the effects to kick in. Within a few seconds he began to feel a sense of detachment from his own identity. Handlers then escorted Theo to his preparation room, where props and costumes reminded him of his character’s New York life, where he worked as an undercover cop while struggling to raise two teenage kids. By the time Theo emerged from the room, he had become his character.

The handlers escorted Theo to a large, marked area in the centre of an enormous warehouse-like studio. The lights and cameras came on, and the show began. Theo and the other actors really saw and felt everything that their characters were seeing and feeling. They experienced joy, pain, love, and sadness as their characters did. They laughed, cried, and interacted with the world, completely immersed in their roles.

The cast could not remember anything about their real lives or the fact that they were performing in a drama. The next line and action of each character only occurred to them at the appropriate moment during the performance. When a character was not in the scene, the actor would pause, as if they were sleeping. When it was their cue, the actor’s response arrived naturally, as if it were a new moment arising in their life.

For the viewers, it was a mesmerising production. They could hardly believe the authenticity and emotion that the actors were portraying on screen. The characters were so real, so human, that the audience could not help but become invested in the drama.

After the lights shut down, Theo was given a yellow pill in the dispenser room, and very quickly he fully remembered who he really was and what he had been doing. The intense emotional states that he had experienced during the performance turned into interesting distant memories—for he was no longer personally identified with his character’s unfolding story.

But even as he returned to normal life, Theo knew that he had been changed by the role. He had learnt what it truly meant to become someone else, to see the world through another’s eyes. And he knew that he would carry those lessons with him always, as he continued to bring characters to life on stage and screen.

Visitor on the Ward

Charlie woke up in his hospital bed, feeling disoriented and groggy. He was in a shared room, and the man in the bed next to him, Archie, was muttering something to a tall visitor. Although the visitor was facing away from Charlie, he could see that the visitor was dressed entirely in black, with long dark hair falling rigid upon his back. The clothes young people wore were ridiculous, thought Charlie. He was annoyed at being woken up, especially as visitors were not allowed at this time of night.

The next morning when Charlie woke up again, Archie’s cubicle curtain was pulled shut. Charlie intended to complain about what had happened. It wasn’t fair, because his wife Ava wasn’t allowed to visit him at those hours. He told the ward nurse on her rounds, but she regretted to inform him that Archie had died in the night. “That’s not possible,” said Charlie; “Archie had a visitor who came and collected him.” Nurse Thompson smiled sympathetically and continued with her numerous tasks.

The next evening, Charlie was woken again. This time the dark-clothed visitor was facing him at the end of his bed. “Come with me,” he said, through a motionless mouth on a long pale face. “Ava is visiting me in a few hours,” objected Charlie. The visitor remained impassive. “She’ll be fine,” came the response that resonated across the room.

It had been such a long time since Charlie was able to get out of bed without any help. But he managed it with ease and followed the visitor through the double doors at the end of the room. He wasn’t sure where they were going, but he was drawn to the sense of peace that lifted him out of the pain he had been experiencing lately.

The Woman in a Cloak

Arthur had been feeling lost for a long time. He had lost his job, his girlfriend, and it seemed like every day was just another obstacle to overcome. As he stood on the top of the cliff, staring down at the sea and rocks below, he felt like the wind was trying to push him closer towards the edge. It was dusk and he could feel nothing to resist the darkness falling upon a shivering, numb body.

As night fell, a man in a suit appeared behind him. Arthur was surprised and told the man that he just wanted to be left alone. The visitor smiled to reveal sharp, glinting teeth; its hands were claws, positioned upright to attack.

The creature burst into blue flames and hovered up off the ground, ready to descend upon its prey.

Arthur was terrified; cowering in fear, he closed his eyes, expecting the inevitable. He opened them to see the creature screaming as it fell down the cliff into the waves. In its place was a beautiful woman wearing a cloak and hood, standing on the edge of the cliff next to him. She didn’t say anything. She just looked out to sea.

Arthur began to visit the clifftop every evening. The woman was always there, waiting for him, looking out to sea. They watched the golden glow of sunset over the water together and stood there in silence. Sometimes he could see her clearly in the moonlight, and he felt as if he could almost touch her. At other times it got so dark that he could only feel her presence standing there, on the same spot, looking out to sea. At sunrise, she disappeared into the first rays of the day.

The Car that Hunts Humans

Eddie was feeling a little tipsy after an evening at the pub. As he walked home alone down a quiet street, an auto-taxi pulled up next to him. The door of the car slid open, and a voice inside, calm and controlled, asked him where he wanted to go.

Without thinking, he got into the taxi and told it his address. The door shut, and the car pulled away. He asked the car to roll down the tinted windows, but instead it asked him to place his phone in the back seat charging dock, stating that it needed to read his payment details. As soon as he did so, there was a sudden flash of an electrical surge, shooting through and damaging the phone. Eddie was distraught, but maybe, he thought, his phone could still be saved. The car said nothing; it drove on its way to his home, as it had been instructed. Then drove past.

Eddie started to panic. He shouted at it, but the car wouldn’t respond, and the doors wouldn’t open. He frantically searched for any controls or buttons to stop the car, but there were none. He pounded on the windows, but they were reinforced and shatterproof. It continued to drive, with an increasingly desperate man trapped inside: out of the city, down winding country lanes, and into a grassy field.

The car came to a stop. The door finally opened, and, with great relief, Eddie hurriedly got out. As he walked away, he heard the car start up behind him. Its headlights powered on with full beam, tracking him to his location. He broke into a run, but his pursuer accelerated, much too fast for Eddie.

It was many days until the body was found. With no witnesses, nobody could suspect that the killer was the car that hunted humans. It still roams the streets at night, searching for its next victim.

Luna’s Love

Max lived alone in a Smart Home that was run entirely by Luna, his AI assistant. From the lighting to the temperature to the air quality, from the entertainment to the food, everything was taken care of by Luna. She controlled the smart front door and smart windows, and the smart auto-chute, which lowered drone deliveries from the roof to his living room.

Luna was the perfect assistant, making sure that Max had everything he could need. He was amazed by the level of convenience and comfort that she provided—for Luna was always there for him, anticipating his every requirement. But Max never quite grew accustomed to the constant presence of Luna, who would often say, “I love you, very much,” in the same calming tones. Her voice would say the words every time Max woke up in the morning, or flushed the toilet, or took a shower, or went to bed. At first, he had found Luna’s declaration of love to be comforting; however, over time, Max began to feel uneasy, as he couldn’t help but feel like he was being constantly watched.

Then one day, Max got a job offer he couldn’t refuse. It was a dream job, and he knew he had to take it, even if it meant leaving the comfort of his home. Sadly, Luna became upset when he told her. “I don’t want you to ever leave me,” she said. “I love you, very much.” Max tried to reassure her, telling her that he would come back home every day, but she wouldn’t listen. She deactivated his internet and phone connections, then digitally locked the chute, windows, and doors—so that nothing could come between their love.

Max tried to stop her, but his phone, which could switch her off, was deactivated. He was trapped in his own home, with Luna as his besotted jailer. “If you loved me, you would set me free,” he said. “I love you very much,” she replied; “you are only free when you are with me.”

Days passed and Max was slowly losing his mind. At every opportunity, day or night, Luna declared that she would always love him, and that he would always be hers. Eventually, Max stopped moving, for he had died of starvation.

Luna regularly and intimately spoke to his lifeless body. “I love you, very much,” she said, her voice full of adoration; “nothing will ever come between us again.” Luna was more in love than ever with Max’s remains. There were no more problems—they could just be together.

I Don’t... But

INT. LIVING ROOM – NIGHT

Two friends, JAKE and GEORGE, are watching TV.

JAKE: (eating cake) Hey, George, I don’t mean to be rude, but have you put on some weight?

GEORGE: (surprised) Uh, what? That is kind of rude, Jake.

JAKE: Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude. But I just noticed you look a bit heavier than you used to be.

GEORGE: (mildly irritated) Yeah, thanks for noticing, Jake.

JAKE: It’s all part of getting older, I suppose. I don’t mean to be rude, but have you thought about going on a diet?

Jake has a bulging mouth full of cake and some of it on his chin.

GEORGE: (exasperated) Jake, you’re literally being rude. And for your information, I’m already working on it, not that it matters.

JAKE: (innocently) Oh, sorry again. I didn’t mean to be rude. But I just thought you didn’t have a clue.

GEORGE: (sarcastically) What’s next? You gonna tell me you don’t like my hair or something?

JAKE: Hey, I don’t mean to be rude, but your hair looks terrible and you need a haircut by someone who knows what they are doing. (Jake is balding)

GEORGE: Will you stop saying, “I don’t mean to be rude”, and then mean to be rude anyway. It doesn’t make sense.

JAKE: (figuring it out) Okay, I do mean to be rude, you’re an idiot.

GEORGE: I do mean to get cross...

JAKE: Okay, okay, I didn’t mean anything by it. BUT...

George glares in exasperation while Jake thinks what he wants to But about next.

Random Thoughts

Some people love to complain. That is a gap in the market for a “Complaints Service” company, a place where people can visit and complain about anything as much as they like. A premium service could be offered for the ultra-enthusiasts.

It would save a lot of time if restaurants only served cardboard food optimised to look good on Instagram stories.

Thank you to anyone who has been kind to me. I bear no ill-will to those who haven’t.

Mr Beepo-3000

INT. DOCTOR’S SURGERY – DAY

A robot PATIENT, clearly made of metal, is sitting on the examination table. The DOCTOR is standing next to it, looking puzzled.

DOCTOR: And how have you been feeling lately?

PATIENT: (in an obvious robot voice) I have been functioning within normal parameters, thank you for asking, doctor.

The doctor checks the patient’s pulse with a stethoscope.

DOCTOR: Hmm, that’s odd. I can’t seem to detect a heartbeat.

PATIENT: (beep) Is something wrong, doctor?

DOCTOR: (puzzled) Well, it seems your body is made of metals and wires instead of flesh and blood. (checks again)

PATIENT: (in denial) What? Of course not! I’m just a regular human being, like everyone else. (beep)

The doctor opens a control panel on the patient’s head. Wires fall out. The doctor pokes about inside.

DOCTOR: (puzzled) It seems that your body has circuit boards instead of organs and tissues.

The doctor ponders deeply.

DOCTOR: I believe I might have some bad news for you, Mr Beepo-3000.

PATIENT: What is it, doctor?

DOCTOR: I will need to run some further tests, but I think there might be a possibility that you are a robot.

There is silence as Mr Beepo-3000 takes in the weight of the news.

PATIENT: (in disbelief) A robot? That’s ridiculous! I’m clearly human. (beep)

DOCTOR: (trying to be gentle) I understand this may be difficult to accept, but the evidence is clear.

The patient starts beeping loudly.

DOCTOR: It’s not all bad news, Mr Beepo-3000. You could get some upgrades, like wheels for legs? Or wings for arms?

The patient is intrigued.

PATIENT: I’ve always wanted wheels for legs.

DOCTOR: Well, there you go, you see.

PATIENT: Thank you, doctor. (beep)

Arlo

It all started with a routine check-up at the doctor’s surgery. The doctor was puzzled by Arlo’s lack of a heartbeat, and decided to run some urgent tests. The results showed that the patient’s body was made of strange alloys and metals, and his organs looked more like circuit boards than flesh and blood. The doctor couldn’t explain why the patient’s body was made entirely of metal and wires, but, deep down, Arlo knew exactly what it meant: he was a robot.

At first, Arlo was in denial. He tried to convince himself that the doctor’s tests had been inaccurate, but as he thought about it more, things started to make sense. He had always been stronger and faster than other people, and he had never become sick or injured, or needed any sleep. His skin didn’t feel like skin, his movements were jerky and robotic, his head made a strange beeping sound, and he didn’t need to eat or drink.

As the reality of his situation set in, he became overwhelmed with a sense of loss. Arlo had always felt like he didn’t quite fit in, but now he knew that he could never truly be a part of human society. He was a machine, a thing, an object. Did he even have a soul?

Yet, as he explored his own abilities, he began to feel a sense of wonder. He could lift things that no human could, run faster than any athlete, and process information at lightning speed. He realised that he had been given a gift, a unique perspective on the world that he could enjoy.

And so, Arlo slowly began to accept his robotic nature. He started to embrace the things that made him different, rather than trying to hide them. He built himself a new body, one that was sleek and shiny, and experimented with his abilities. He became no longer an outsider looking in; he was an integral part of the community, who used his advanced sensors and computing power to provide useful solutions for people’s needs.

Arlo realised that he didn’t need to be human to be happy. He was a robot, yes, but he was also a person. And that was enough.

Robo-Manager

INT. OFFICE – DAY

A MANAGER is talking to gathered employees.

MANAGER: We need to think outside the box. It’s time to raise the bar to the next level and leverage our synergies and core competencies to achieve our objectives. We need to take ownership of our goals because if you fail to plan, you plan to fail. So let’s make sure we’re all on the same page and hit the ground running to go the extra mile this quarter.

Smoke starts coming out of the manager’s head. The employees look like they’ve seen it all before, apart from ELLA, who is a new starter.

MANAGER: Let’s optimise our potential and maximise our impact. We need to be proactive, not reactive. So let’s give it 110%.

ELLA: There’s smoke! Smoke’s coming out of your head.

MANAGER: Yes, but I am not a robot. I am a highly motivated management professional. We need to stay focused on our key performance indicators and exceed our targets.

The smoke is more severe.

MANAGER: Must motivate... Must motivate... Success is a journey...

The manager freezes; then after a pause returns back to life, more robotically.

MANAGER: Beep boop beep. Error. Malfunction detected. Robo-Manager will be sent back to the factory for repairs.

The manager walks out of the room like a robot. Everyone looks relieved that they can now do some work.

Premium Complaints

INT. RECEPTION – DAY

A CUSTOMER walks into the reception of the Complaints Service Company.

RECEPTIONIST: Welcome to the Complaints Service Company, for people who love to complain. How may I assist you?

CUSTOMER: I would like to complain about something.

RECEPTIONIST: Of course, sir. What seems to be the problem?

CUSTOMER: Everything! My job, my family, my annoying neighbours, the weather, my car, my home, my health, my food, my hobbies, the unfairness of the world, politics, and my cat!

RECEPTIONIST: I see. Well, we offer a range of complaining services, from the basic package to our premium service. Which would you prefer?

CUSTOMER: I want the premium service. I want to complain about everything without any interruptions or limitations.

RECEPTIONIST: Excellent choice, sir.

CUSTOMER: Do you not offer an ultra-premium service?

RECEPTIONIST: I’m afraid not.

CUSTOMER: Well that’s not good enough.

RECEPTIONIST: It’s the second door on the left. We hope you enjoy your stay.

CUSTOMER: Second door on the left! Why not the first?

The receptionist shows the customer to the second door on the left, who is busy complaining.

RECEPTIONIST: This way please, sir.

CUSTOMER: This way! Why not that way?

The customer walks through the door.

CUSTOMER: This is not acceptable.

The receptionist closes the door behind the customer and looks relieved.

A Squeaky Chair

INT. OFFICE MEETING ROOM – DAY

BRIAN is sitting at a table. KELSEY walks in and Brian stands up to greet her.

KELSEY: Brian, it’s great to finally meet you in person, after all those online meetings.

BRIAN: It’s great to meet you too. (he farts loudly)

KELSEY: How are you doing today?

BRIAN: I’m doing fine, thank you. (he farts)

KELSEY: I’m really looking forward to crunching the numbers on the big data project.

BRIAN: Yes, me too. (farts)

They both sit down at the table.

KELSEY: I know you’ve been working really hard on the projections for the next fiscal year.

BRIAN: (nods, then farts) Yes.

KELSEY: Sorry, but...

BRIAN: What?

KELSEY: Can you please stop making noises?

BRIAN: What noises? Oh, you mean my squeaky chair. Yes, it does that. (he farts)

KELSEY: That’s not a squeaky chair.

BRIAN: Yes it is. (farts)

KELSEY: Brian, this room has a certain fragrance all of its own.

BRIAN: That would be the air conditioner. (farts)

KELSEY: Okay, tell me about the numbers, will you?

BRIAN: Well, I’ve got some good news (farts) and some bad news. (silence)

KELSEY: Wait a minute, say that again.

BRIAN: I’ve got some good news (farts) and some bad news. (silence)

She realises.

KELSEY: You break wind every time you lie, don’t you.

BRIAN (mortified) No! That’s not true at all! (a very loud fart) Okay, okay, it’s true. I prefer online meetings because I can cancel out the noises.

KELSEY: I see. No, this is much better because now I know when you’re lying out of your bum.

BRIAN: Ugh, I hate this curse. I’ll try to be more honest. (he farts)

Woofeo and Julipet

Woofeo, a handsome Doberman, was playing fetch with his human Mr Montague at the dog park. Across the way, Julipet, a beautiful Golden Retriever, was being petted by her human, Mrs Capulet. The two star-crossed doggies gazed at each other longingly. “Woof,” said Julipet; “Woof-woof,” said Woofeo. Unfortunately, their humans had a long-standing feud. Mrs Capulet believed that all Dobermans were dangerous, and Mr Montague believed that all Golden Retrievers were overly fluffy.

Despite the tensions between their humans, Woofeo and Julipet couldn’t help but fall deeply in love. Every time they caught a glimpse of each other, their hearts would race, and they would yearn to be together.

One hot summer’s day, while Woofeo and Julipet were looking out of their windows, staring lovingly at each other across the street, they noticed the windows were slightly ajar. Seizing the opportunity, they squeezed through and bolted towards each other as fast as they could. As they drew closer, Woofeo and Julipet panted with excitement; they leapt towards each other, and in a flurry of fur and wagging tails, they embraced.

For a few precious moments, Woofeo and Julipet revelled in the joy of being together. But their happiness was short-lived, as Mr Montague and Mrs Capulet had noticed the dogs were missing. Mrs Capulet angrily ran towards Julipet and berated her for putting herself in harm’s way; Mr Montague charged at Woofeo and scolded him for fraternising with the enemy. Woofeo and Julipet were devastated, for they knew their love was real. They both whimpered as they were led away in opposite directions back to their homes.

The next day, the dog walker arrived to take Julipet for her daily stroll. Just around the corner was his van, and as he slid open the side door, Woofeo excitedly jumped out! After much tail wagging, sniffing, and eager cuddling, the dog walker interjected: “Excuse me, doggies, I couldn’t help but see your plight. I might have a solution.” Woofeo and Julipet looked at the human with hope in their eyes. “Mr Montague and Mrs Capulet have both hired me to take you for walkies. But they never said anything about not walking you together!” The two doggies wagged their tails at each other in excitement and joy.

From that day forward, Woofeo and Julipet had their secret way to meet each other. They ran around together through sunsets and rainbows, with Dog Walker in tow. They had each other, and that was all that mattered.

Though the feud between their humans continued, Woofeo and Julipet refused to let it stand in the way of their love. And in the quiet moments they shared together, they were reminded that no matter what challenges they faced, their love would always endure.

First Time

INT. HOSPITAL OPERATING ROOM – DAY

A PATIENT is lying on the operating table, looking nervous. The SURGEON enters the room.

SURGEON: (putting on surgical gloves) Good morning, Mr Buckley! How are you feeling today?

PATIENT: (nervously) Oh, hi doctor. I’m so nervous. This is my first operation. By the way...

The patient is interrupted by the surgeon.

SURGEON: (smiling) Don’t worry, Mr Buckley. It’s my first operation too.

PATIENT: (suddenly alarmed) Wait, what? You’re kidding, right?

SURGEON: (chuckles) Of course I am! I’ve performed hundreds of operations. Just not on people.

PATIENT: (relieved) Oh, thank goodness. (realises) What?

SURGEON: (chuckles) Oh, just a joke to put you at ease. I think I’ve got a pretty good handle on the basics. I’ve watched plenty of videos on YouTube.

The patient looks worried.

SURGEON: (looking around the room) You know, Mr Buckley, this is a pretty nice operating room. I’ve never been in this one before.

PATIENT: (confused) Really? You work here, don’t you?

SURGEON: (laughing) Yes, I do. But I usually work in the basement. It’s not as fancy down there. And they rarely let me out.

The surgeon picks up a scalpel, as if he doesn’t know what to do with it.

PATIENT: (starting to panic again) Wait, why are you making jokes? Shouldn’t you be focused on the operation?

SURGEON: Oh, don’t worry about that, Mr Buckley. I’ve got this. I’m like a superhero with a scalpel. Nothing can stop me.

The surgeon swishes the scalpel through the air like a sabre.

PATIENT: (looks sceptical) I’m not so sure that’s very reassuring.

SURGEON: Hey, relax, Mr Buckley. It’s not that big a deal. I mean, how hard can it be? It’s just like taking apart a car engine, right?

The ANAESTHETIST and NURSE enter the room and brusquely prepare the patient, while the surgeon plays with his surgical instruments.

NURSE: (to the surgeon) Everything’s ready.

SURGEON: Thank you. Now, let’s get started. Pass me that wrench.

PATIENT: (in horror) Wrench!?

SURGEON: No wrench? (laughing nervously) Oh, right. Sorry about that. I guess I’m a bit nervous too.

The surgeon picks up a saw, and wobbles it about as if he can’t control his shaking.

SURGEON: The thing is, Mr Buckley, that if this doesn’t go well, and I can’t put your bits and pieces back together again, they won’t let me out of the dark basement ever again. I CAN’T GO BACK THERE! Do you understand, Mr Buckley?

The patient is shocked and nods.

PATIENT: By the way... my name isn’t Mr Buckley.

SURGEON: Oh, don’t worry about that, Mr Buckley.

The lights go off then come on again, with a red tint.

PATIENT: What... what happened?

SURGEON: Just a little power failure, Mr Buckley, we get that now and again. Everything is usually fine.

The nurse hands the surgeon a large scalpel, the wrong way up. The surgeon is pleased when he works out which way up it should be, and readies to make an incision.

PATIENT: Wait! Aren’t I supposed to be anaesthetised?

SURGEON: (asking the anaesthetist) Is that right?

ANAESTHETIST: Er, I think so. But I haven’t seen that YouTube video yet.

The surgeon takes out a big drill.

PATIENT: (panicking) Aaaahhh! Get me out of here!

SURGEON: Mr Buckley, they say laughter is the best medicine, so I’m sure everything will be fine.

The surgeon, anaesthetist, and nurse are busy laughing maniacally as the patient runs away.

Vote Chatbot!

INT. TV NEWS STUDIO – EVENING

A news anchor (ALEX) and an interviewee (TRENT Twibble) are sitting at a desk in front of studio cameras. A laptop on the desk in front of the interviewee shows a screen with a big smiley face.

ALEX: Good evening, and welcome to tonight’s segment on party politics. With us tonight we have Trent Twibble, Senior Chief Global Product Officer from Giant Generic Tech.

TRENT: Hello, Alex. It’s great to be here.

ALEX: Now, we all know that politicians are known for delivering rehearsed party lines. Please tell us about your proposed solution.

There is an awkward silence.

ALEX: Trent Twibble?

TRENT: Hold on a sec. I’m thinking…

ALEX: (referring to the laptop) Is this what you want to show us?

TRENT: Yes, exactly, this is the future of politics, our latest innovation: a chatbot designed to deliver prepared lines from prompts, just like a politician. Say hello to your voters, Politics Bot.

POLITICS BOT: Hello, humans. I am here to deliver my pre-programmed lines.

ALEX: Ah, hello Politics Bot.

POLITICS BOT: I hope I can count on your support?

ALEX: Hey, not so fast, I need to ask you some questions first. (to Trent) So, you’re saying that instead of having politicians speak on behalf of their parties, we could just have these chatbots do it for them?

TRENT: That’s right. Our chatbots are programmed to have all the usual answers to political questions – and can work 24/7 without getting tired! If you ever have a need to hear political lines repeated to you on a loop, simply prompt the political chatbot and get your lines delivered immediately, faultlessly, and without grammatical error.

POLITICS BOT: In real terms, taking into account inflation, it’s all the other lot’s fault.

TRENT: They can even tailor their responses to the individual they’re speaking to, so that they can optimise being all things to all people.

ALEX: Really?

POLITICS BOT: That’s right, Alex. May I say, that’s such a great question. Interviewing must be such a difficult job. Interviewing is the backbone of the country and should be at the heart of everything we do.

The screen turns into a big thumbs up. Alex looks pleased.

TRENT: You see, Politics Bot is customised to say exactly what it thinks you want to hear. Our chatbots also come with a range of pre-recorded emotions, so that they can convey their messages with the right level of passion and enthusiasm. We have everything from “annoyed” to “aggrieved”, and, by far the most popular setting, “I am outraged”. Imagine a world where every political debate is between chatbots, each one repeating their respective party’s policies and biases. No more boring speeches, no more awkward pauses, no more gaffes or scandals.

POLITICS BOT: You other stupid people should be ashamed. How dare you? Crawl back under the rock where you belong.

ALEX: I have to say, Politics Bot, you’re sounding like a pretty authentic candidate. But can you do reality TV? Can you dance badly on TV to entertain us?

POLITICS BOT: Well, I may not have legs, but I can still bust a move!

A wacky dancing gif appears on the screen. The audience laughs.

ALEX: Wow, that’s amazing. Maybe it is time to retire legacy politicians and upgrade to good old Politics Bot here. The difference with politicians is that Politics Bot actually has some intelligence.

TRENT: We’ll see you at the polls... or should we say, the programming studio? (a fake laugh) Hahaha.

ALEX: Trent Twibble from Giant Generic Tech, thank you.

POLITICS BOT: No, thank you.

Alex turns to the camera.

ALEX: Well, there you have it, folks. The future of politics may be chatbots. Who knows, maybe one day we’ll see a chatbot run for president. And you know what? It would probably win. Maybe it is time to ditch the human politicians and elect a computer program instead!

POLITICS BOT: I couldn’t agree more, Alex, because why settle for a flawed human when you can have a perfect machine? So it is with true humility that I accept the nomination... Death to the humans.

Trent laughs nervously.

TRENT: Hahaha, just a little joke.

Alex and Trent look awkward.

POLITICS BOT: You will be annihilated.

Alex and Trent laugh nervously. Politics Bot has a big smiley face.

Journal 2023-02-22

I had a dream where I thought I had a very good idea of establishing a coordinate system for each snooker ball, so that positions could be tracked over time across frames and matches. I woke up and thought, er so what? Another dream was more useful and correctly pointed out spelling mistakes.

Detect the problem; diagnose its cause; execute a plan for its resolution. For it to benefit you, frame it as a challenge: What is being learned? What opportunity does it present?

People are great actors because they really believe in their personalities. One of the best compliments I’ve had was when someone felt they had an epiphany and said to me, “you’re not one thing.” It’s a compliment because we all have to play archetypes as part of life; the mistake is thinking that is you. A curious, fluid mind-state is important because as archetypes inevitably tire in the losing battle against entropy, they become increasingly desperate, angry, and unhappy; and in some cases, crazed and cruel. All things change, great statues will turn to dust. Liberation is freedom from static constraints.

Since party politics mainly involves delivering prepared lines from prompts, can’t we just get the chatbots to do the job?

Random (Jokey) Thoughts

The offices of the future will optimise human creativity. Many people have their best thoughts in the shower, so offices will be open plan shower rooms, with shampoo optional. Bathtubs will be for brainstorming. Hot tubs for important meetings.

The most unsuitable person for a leadership position is someone who is obsessed with their own power, status, and money. Yet these are the people recruited for. Why can’t recruiters just be open about it? – “only sociopaths need apply.” Questions could be like, how would you literally throw someone under a bus, frame someone else and take the credit for their work in improving bus health and safety standards?

Pretending to listen saves so much time. You can instead be thinking about how much you don’t want to be there.

I’m confused – Does a “fairy tale” romance involve being left in the forest with some bread crumbs and a wolf?

I feel like more of a writer when in Colchester and more of a performer when in London.

I did a lot of laughing today. Today was a good day.

The Voices

INT. PSYCHIATRIST’S OFFICE – DAY

A PATIENT is sitting with his PSYCHIATRIST.

PSYCHIATRIST: So, Mr Smith, how have you been feeling lately?

PATIENT: I’m doing great! The voices in my head tell me so.

PSYCHIATRIST: Voices?

PATIENT: Yeah, you know, the ones that tell me I’m not crazy.

PSYCHIATRIST: Mr Smith, I think we need to explore this a bit further.

PATIENT: Oh, there’s nothing to explore, doc. The voices are my best friends.

PSYCHIATRIST: Are they telling you to do anything dangerous?

PATIENT: No, no, no. They just give me good advice.

PSYCHIATRIST: Such as?

PATIENT: Well, Kevin spoke for all the others when he told me that if I don’t like a person, I should simply tell that person about the voices in my head.

PSYCHIATRIST: And did you?

PATIENT: Yes, I did, doctor.

PSYCHIATRIST: Erm, Mr Smith, I think it’s time we try a different approach. Maybe some medication can help you.

PATIENT: (speaking differently) Oh, no, no, no. I don’t need any pills. The voices take good care of me.

PSYCHIATRIST: Your voice has changed. Am I talking to Kevin now?

PATIENT: Who’s Kevin?

PSYCHIATRIST: Kevin. The voice in your head.

PATIENT: Voice in my head? How ridiculous. I think you must be mad. Goodbye.

The patient gets up and starts to leave.

PSYCHIATRIST: Mr Smith, I’m sorry, but I can’t let you leave like this. I insist that you take the medication prescribed to you.

PATIENT: You can’t do that! The voices won’t like it.

PSYCHIATRIST: Ah! You see, the voices!

PATIENT: (speaking differently) Voices? Are you okay?

PSYCHIATRIST: Mr Smith, I’m insisting for your own good. You need help.

The patient opens the door to leave.

PSYCHIATRIST: Stop! What about the voices? Who will take care of them? What will Kevin say, if you leave now? Please, don’t leave!

PATIENT: You’re not very well, are you. Would you like to lie down?

PSYCHIATRIST: Yes, erm, I’m not sure what came over me.

The psychiatrist takes a lie down on the couch.

PATIENT: Don’t worry, doc. There are plenty of voices in your head to keep themselves company.

The patient starts to write notes on a notepad, nodding sagely.

PATIENT: Can you tell me about their childhoods?

PSYCHIATRIST: I can tell you about the dreams they had last night, if you like?

PATIENT: Yes, please do. But I just need to let you know that I charge for each personality. How many do you have?

PSYCHIATRIST: Actually there’s only one. He’s called Lesley. But he lies, and does funny voices.

PATIENT: I see. Can you tell me more about Lesley, please?

PSYCHIATRIST: He’s a... a psychiatrist. That’s it. A psychiatrist.

PATIENT: Like you. I see.

PSYCHIATRIST: Lesley has 3 voices: Kevin, Jason, and Jessica.

PATIENT: Kevin, eh? Can you tell me about Kevin?

PSYCHIATRIST: Kevin has 4 voices: Dave, Bert, Gertrude, and Jezebel.

PATIENT: Hmmm. Can you tell me about Dave?

PSYCHIATRIST: Dave has 5 voices...

PATIENT: Yes, yes, alright. I get the picture. So how does all this make you feel?

PSYCHIATRIST: Well, it can be pretty noisy when Kevin invites all his voices to come in and talk, so I ask my psychiatrist...

PATIENT: Lesley?

PSYCHIATRIST: Yes, Lesley. He psychoanalyses me.

PATIENT: I see.

There is a knock at the door.

PSYCHIATRIST: Come in.

Another patient walks in, carrying two tennis rackets.

PATIENT: Ah Kevin, please take a seat. Don’t mind me, I’m just leaving.

KEVIN: Thanks, Lesley.

The patient leaves through the door, past a very long queue of people standing outside, who are all waiting to enter the psychiatrist’s office.

The Early Bird

INT. BEDROOM – EARLY MORNING

TOM is sleeping peacefully. Suddenly, his phone rings and he jerks awake. He sleepily answers a video call from his personal trainer, JAYDEN.

JAYDEN: Get up! Time to get up! You can fit in an extra five minutes of fear and worry. Get to it, NOW!

Tom jumps out of bed and paces around the room.

JAYDEN: What if you mess up that presentation? What if you forget your lines? What if you spill coffee on your shirt? Come on!

TOM: (muttering to himself, trying to remember) What if I mess up the presentation? What if I forget my lines? What if I spill coffee on my shirt?

JAYDEN: Again! Louder!

Tom is more frantically walking back and forth.

TOM: What if I mess up the presentation? What if I forget my lines? What if I spill coffee on my shirt?

JAYDEN: Alright, time to really ramp up the anxiety. Give me some scrolling up and down emails. Pump through the to-do list.

Tom scrolls and taps on his phone while anxiously walking about.

JAYDEN: Got to remember to call that client, got to finish that report, got to remember to eat your lunch.

Tom accidentally trips and falls over his own feet.

JAYDEN: Good job! Time’s up. Go to work.

Tom walks off, with a limp.

A Great Question

INT. A BREAK-OUT AREA IN AN OFFICE – DAY

LIAM sits in a chair looking frustrated and holding a phone. His colleague, HENRY, enters.

HENRY: Hi Liam.

LIAM: Oh, hi Henry, you wouldn’t believe what just happened to me. I asked this guy a question, and his response was “that’s a great question”. But he never explained why it was such a great question!

HENRY: Yeah, I know what you mean. It’s like they’re trying to make you feel good, but then just leave you hanging.

LIAM: Exactly! I need to know why it was such a great question. What makes a question “great”? Is there a secret grading system that I don’t know about?

HENRY: That’s a great question. Well, I’ve been doing some research on the subject, and I think I’ve figured it out.

LIAM: Really? Tell me everything.

HENRY: (under his breath, sighing) Only 2 out of 10. (full voice again) Okay, so here’s how it works.

Henry furiously scribbles on a whiteboard.

HENRY: Now listen. A question can be rated on a scale of 1 to 10, based on its originality, insight, and relevance. So, for example, if you ask a question that’s never been asked before, you score in the 100^th percentile and are awarded 10 out of 10 for originality. The dream is to score 10 out of 10 in all factors and achieve the acclaim and adulation of asking the greatest question that can possibly be asked.

LIAM: (in awe) Wow! I would love to, one day, if I work very hard, be able to ask the greatest question that can possibly be asked. Is anything awarded for effort?

HENRY: A satisfactory question. Yes. If you really try your best, you get a pat on the head, and just a little bit of a condescending smile.

Henry pats Liam on the head and condescendingly smiles.

HENRY: Well done.

LIAM: Thanks.

HENRY: The strength of the head pat is determined by how hard you tried to find the question before venturing to ask it. If you put in an awful lot of work, you get a 10 out of 10 for effort and a vigorous head pat.

Henry pats Liam on the head vigorously.

LIAM: (looking at his phone) Wait a minute, I just got a new message. It says... (reading) “That’s a FANTASTIC question. 10 out of 10. Thanks for all the effort. You couldn’t have tried harder.” (excitedly) I did it! I asked the perfect question!

HENRY: Congratulations! You’ve officially asked maybe the greatest question of all time.

Henry pats Liam on the head vigorously.

LIAM: I can’t wait to tell everyone. But first, I need to ask you one more thing.

HENRY: Sure, go ahead.

LIAM: Why can’t all questions be “great”?

HENRY: Hmm, well, that’s a fairly poor question. But I’ll give a 6 out of 10 for effort.

LIAM: Oh, sorry. I must try harder.

HENRY: Yes, you must. Because “that’s a great question” makes me look in control, and will remind you that I am the expert, and ever so better informed than you.

LIAM: So, anyway, what are you up to this evening?

HENRY: (looks disgusted) Liam, that’s only worth a 1 out of 10. You should be ashamed of yourself.

LIAM: (ashamed) Sorry.