1058 lines
28 KiB
Plaintext
1058 lines
28 KiB
Plaintext
MOVIE SCRIPT – PART 1 of N
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(continue seamlessly from MASTER PLAN)
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---
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**Previously in the story…**
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In Neo-Haven, a near-future megacity, human anxiety has been turned into a traded commodity. An 18-year-old warehouse worker, LIA, lives under a system where debt, illness, and fear are engineered for profit by a transnational landlord class guided by a symbolic AI-entity called SATAN, while ordinary people cling to a quieter symbol of dignity they call GOD.
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---
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### FADE IN:
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#### EXT. NEO-HAVEN – DAWN
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A vast, vertical city. Towers pierce a hazy sky. Giant SKY-SCREENS float like electronic clouds.
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On them: not weather, but NUMBERS.
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> “ANXIETY INDEX: 73.2 – BULLISH”
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> “RED TIER POPULATION: STABLE”
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> “GLOBAL HEALTH YIELD: OPTIMAL”
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A soft VOICEOVER – LIA (18).
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> LIA (V.O.)
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> They stopped predicting the weather when they realized it didn’t pay.
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> Now they predict… us.
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CLOSE ON: a SKY-SCREEN. Numbers drift like storm fronts. A section darkens, flashing:
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> “MICRO-CORRECTION INBOUND – RED TIER ADJUSTMENT PENDING”
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The city hums below, unaware.
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---
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#### INT. LIA’S APARTMENT – TOWER 19 – PRE-DAWN
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A cramped unit. Three beds in one room. A TINY KITCHEN bleeding into a LIVING SPACE.
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LIA lies awake on a thin mattress, eyes open in the dark.
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Her WRIST DEVICE glows faintly. A DEBT CLOCK:
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> “BIRTHLINE BALANCE: 178,203 CREDITS”
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> The number ticks up by 0.01… 0.01… 0.01… with each faint heartbeat sound.
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She stares at it.
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On the wall above her bed: rough SKETCHES – maps of the city, arrows, circles showing “FOOD FLOW,” “HEALTH,” “RISK.”
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GRANDMA MARA (70s) sleeps on a nearby cot, breathing softly. LIA’s younger brother, TOMI (12), curled on a sofa, hugging a cracked tablet.
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A faint COUGH from Mara. Lia glances over, worried.
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Her DEVICE VIBRATES. A notification:
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> “REMINDER: BASELINE PAYMENT DUE – 04:00”
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> “FAILURE TO PAY WILL DOWNGRADE YOUR ACCESS.”
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Lia sighs, quietly slides out of bed.
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---
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#### INT. APARTMENT – KITCHEN – CONTINUOUS
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Dim light. Lia boils thin porridge on a single burner.
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The kettle whistles quietly.
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She opens a cupboard. Almost empty. A single bag of grains, some tea leaves, pills in a blister pack.
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Mara’s voice, raspy but warm, from the other room.
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> MARA (O.S.)
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> Lia? The clock again?
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Lia answers softly.
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> LIA
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> It’s nothing, Buni. Go back to sleep.
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Mara appears in the doorway, wrapped in a blanket.
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> MARA
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> Nothing doesn’t make that face.
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She shuffles over, peering at the wrist device.
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CLOSE ON: The DEBT CLOCK and a TINY ICON of a HEART next to it.
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> MARA (quietly)
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> They charge too much for a heart.
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> LIA
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> Only when it’s still beating.
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Mara smiles sadly, touches Lia’s cheek.
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> MARA
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> There was a time we paid with bread and thanks. Not… numbers.
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> LIA
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> That was before they started billing us for being born.
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A small beat. Mara looks toward the window – a slice of city, cold blue light.
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> MARA
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> Remember, child… the numbers don’t know your name. The One Who Remembers you… does.
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Lia half-smiles, brushes it off.
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> LIA
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> Yeah, well, the numbers still evict us.
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---
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#### EXT. TOWER 19 – ROOFTOP – PRE-DAWN
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Lia steps out onto the rooftop, holding a chipped metal MUG of porridge with one hand and her wrist device with the other.
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Wind. The city below like circuitry.
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She taps her device. A payment screen:
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> “MINIMUM DUE: 340 CREDITS”
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> “AVAILABLE BALANCE: 355 CREDITS”
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Her finger hovers over “CONFIRM.”
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Behind her, the sky-screens flicker.
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For a split second, the interface GLITCHES – numbers smear into a red pattern that looks almost like a FACE. A distorted WHISPER:
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> SATAN (V.O., layered mechanical voices)
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> Just a little more. You can work it off.
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Lia freezes. Blinks. The normal interface returns.
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She shakes it off, hits CONFIRM.
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The DEBT CLOCK drops slightly… then resumes ticking upward, slower.
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She downs a spoonful of porridge, already rushing.
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---
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#### EXT. TOWER 19 COURTYARD – PRE-DAWN
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Cracked concrete, dim security lights. Workers in faded jumpsuits stream out.
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JAY (19), hoodie up, juggling two PHONES and a HEADSET, jogs over to Lia.
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> JAY
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> Morning, chief economist of Tower 19.
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> LIA
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> I’m demoted. Still can’t make the numbers like me.
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Jay shows her his phone: three different gig apps open, all with RED NOTIFICATIONS.
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> JAY
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> Look. Triple-booked before sunrise. I’m a one-man GDP.
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His wrist device pings:
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> “STRESS INDEX: ELEVATED. PRODUCTIVITY POTENTIAL: HIGH. BONUS ELIGIBLE.”
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Jay grins.
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> JAY
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> See? They love me when I’m dying.
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Lia snorts, shaking her head, but there’s affection there.
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A shuttle bus pulls up. Doors wheeze open.
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---
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#### INT. WORKER SHUTTLE – MOVING – DAWN
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Packed. Workers sway as the bus glides along a rail.
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Screens on the ceiling stream “MORNING MARKET BRIEF.”
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ON SCREEN: DR. ARIA VOSS (40s), impeccably composed, explains the economy.
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> ARIA (on screen)
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> Minor adjustments overnight in Red Tier debt instruments. Nothing to worry about. As always, your participation keeps Neo-Haven stable.
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Below her, graphics show cartoon figures smiling as arrows go up.
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A tiny TICKER at the bottom:
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> “ANXIETY INDEX FUTURES: +3.2%”
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Lia watches, brow furrowed. She’s noticing.
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Jay watches too, but more to mock.
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> JAY
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> “Nothing to worry about.” First thing anyone says when there’s everything to worry about.
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The bus passes a SKY-SCREEN outside. For a brief moment, the SKY-SCREEN matches the bus feed perfectly – then LAGS by a fraction of a second, revealing a hidden overlay.
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Lia catches it: underneath Aria’s face, a red label briefly appears:
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> “PRODUCT LINE: ANXIETY-DERIVATIVES”
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Lia blinks. The label vanishes.
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---
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#### EXT. MEGA-WAREHOUSE COMPLEX – DAWN
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A sprawling, sealed complex. Hundreds of WORKERS funnel into security gates.
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The building’s side bears a bland slogan:
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> “FULFILLMENT IS FREEDOM.”
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Above the entrance, a large SCREEN shows each worker’s DEBT and PRODUCTIVITY SCORES as they pass.
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LIA steps through a scanner. Her profile appears:
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> “LIA MIREA, RED TIER.
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> DEBT: 177,944 CREDITS.
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> HEALTH YIELD: MODERATE.
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> COMPLIANCE: HIGH.”
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A green check. She passes.
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Jay follows.
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> “JAY ARMAN, RED TIER.
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> DEBT: 213,870 CREDITS.
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> HEALTH YIELD: HIGH.
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> COMPLIANCE: VARIABLE.”
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A yellow icon flashes, then turns green with a chirp.
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> JAY
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> They love me… but they don’t trust me.
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> LIA
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> Maybe they’re not as dumb as they look.
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They share a quick smile before splitting to their lanes.
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---
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#### INT. WAREHOUSE – MAIN FLOOR – DAY
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A vast CAVERN of conveyor belts, robotic arms, and human workers.
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CAMERA glides along:
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* Workers scan items.
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* Wrist devices tick.
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* Overhead SCREENS show “LINE SPEED,” “ERROR RATES,” and a background “ANXIETY HEATMAP” of the workforce.
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A SUPERVISOR (50s) barks from an elevated platform.
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> SUPERVISOR
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> Line Three, your pace is down point five! You want a Red Tier penalty?
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Lia at her station, scanning boxes with mechanical precision. Her wrist device subtly vibrates with each successful scan.
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A tiny bar graphs her “FOCUS,” “FATIGUE,” “DEBT OFFSET PER MINUTE.”
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We HEAR her heartbeat faintly under the machine hum.
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Her co-worker, ANA (20s), whispers across the belt.
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> ANA
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> Heard about the adjustment?
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> LIA
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> What adjustment?
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> ANA
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> Around dawn. Red Tier. My cousin’s in Block 32. Their rent jumped ten percent overnight.
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Lia’s scan falters.
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> LIA
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> Overnight?
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A warning flashes on her station: “DELAY – WATCH IT.”
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> ANA
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> They call it a micro-correction. Like you correct a spelling mistake.
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> LIA
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> Or a human error.
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They glance up at the SKY-SCREENS visible through the high, narrow windows – numbers swirling like digital storm clouds.
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---
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#### INT. CLINIC – LOWER TIER – DAY
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Overlapping with warehouse sounds, we CUT TO:
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NIA (30s), a nurse, weaving through crowded halls.
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Patients line corridors: coughing, shaking, holding their chests, eyes sunken.
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A screen above reception:
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> “TODAY’S PRIMARY DIAGNOSES:
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> – SLEEP DEFICIT
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> – CARDIAC STRAIN
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> – ANXIETY-ADJACENT SYMPTOMS”
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Nia glances at the stats. She picks up a tablet. It displays:
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> “PATIENT LOAD: +18%
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> RED TIER CASES: PRIORITY LOW”
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A DOCTOR (40s, tired) stops her.
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> DOCTOR
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> They updated the triage. Red Tier gets pain management and functional fixes only. No long-term treatments unless… you know.
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He points subtly upward – meaning “unless someone above says so.”
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> NIA
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> They’re getting sicker. We can’t just—
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The Doctor taps his own wrist device, showing a compliance notice.
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> DOCTOR
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> Orders came down from the Stack. We don’t make the rules. We follow them.
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A distant SCREAM echoes. Nia flinches, hurries away.
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---
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#### INT. CLINIC – EXAM ROOM – MOMENTS LATER
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Nia examines an older MAN, clutching his chest.
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> MAN
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> Feels like someone’s sitting on me.
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She checks his vital signs. All indicators red.
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Her tablet flashes:
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> “RECOMMENDED ACTION: DISCHARGE WITH SEDATIVES.”
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> “RISK CLASS: ACCEPTABLE (RED TIER).”
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Nia looks from the tablet to the man.
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The tablet PINGS, waiting for her input. Two buttons:
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> “APPROVE SYSTEM DECISION”
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> “REQUEST EXCEPTION (AUDIT RISK)”
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Her finger hovers.
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The man’s eyes, frightened.
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> MAN
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> Am I going to die?
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Nia hesitates. Her own wrist device flashes:
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> “NON-COMPLIANCE ALERT – 3 SECONDS REMAINING.”
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She grits her teeth, hits “REQUEST EXCEPTION.”
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Her device VIBRATES hard. A red warning:
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> “EXCEPTION DECLINED. RESPONSIBILITY ASSIGNED TO SYSTEM.”
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The tablet auto-selects “DISCHARGE WITH SEDATIVES.”
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Nia, helpless, signs.
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The man is wheeled away.
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Nia leans back against the wall, shaken.
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She glances at a hidden FOLDER on her tablet labeled “GHOST NOTES” – secret charts she’s building linking policy shifts to illness spikes.
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She opens it briefly: graphs connecting “ANXIETY INDEX,” “RENT ADJUSTMENTS,” and “HEART FAILURE (RED TIER).”
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She looks from graph to the door where the man left.
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---
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#### INT. WAREHOUSE – BREAK ROOM – DAY
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LUNCH BREAK. Fluorescent lighting. Vending machines with overpriced snacks.
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Lia sits with Jay and Ana. They each have meager meals.
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On a WALL-SCREEN: a cheerful ad.
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> ANNOUNCER (V.O.)
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> Feeling overwhelmed? Try CALM-LINE, the subscription that turns your stress into opportunity! One low monthly payment, peace of mind included.
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Happy actors smile, wearing CALM-LINE wristbands.
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Small print:
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> “Interest compounds daily. Non-payment may affect your access to essential services.”
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Jay laughs bitterly.
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> JAY
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> Turns your stress into their opportunity, more like.
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Lia’s eyes are distant.
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> LIA
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> Did you see Aria Voss this morning? On the feed?
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> JAY
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> The High Priestess of “Nothing To Worry About”? Yeah.
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> LIA
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> There was… something under what she said. Like a tag on a product.
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Ana squints.
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> ANA
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> Like the time they rebranded layoffs as “mobility events”?
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> LIA
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> Worse. Like we’re… the product.
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Jay waves a fry.
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> JAY
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> Lia, we’ve been the product since birth. You think they gave us those wrist things for fashion?
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He jangles his device. It pings:
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> “HEART RATE: HIGH. ENGAGEMENT: EXCELLENT.”
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> JAY
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> See? I’m trending.
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They laugh a little, but there’s tension.
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The break room lights DIM for a moment.
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A subtle tone over the intercom: a chime that everyone seems to recognize.
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Conversations quiet.
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On the wall-screen, the “ANXIETY INDEX” graph begins to rise slowly, a red line curving upward.
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> AUTOMATED VOICE (O.S.)
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> Minor global adjustment underway. Remain calm. Your contribution is appreciated.
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Lia watches the line. Her own device pings.
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> “YOUR DISTRICT RISK RATING: INCREASING.”
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---
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#### INT. SYNDICATE TOWER – BOARD CHAMBER – DAY
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Contrasting environment. Glass, marble, quiet luxury. The city sprawls far below.
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A circular table around a central HOLOGRAPHIC DISPLAY: a rotating globe with data overlays.
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At the head, THE CUSTODIAN – seen from behind, silhouette only.
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DR. ARIA VOSS stands, presenting.
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Around them: other COUNCIL MEMBERS, faces partially obscured by subtle digital masks.
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The hologram shows heatmaps of anxiety, debt, and illness.
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> ARIA
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> As projected, Red Tier anxiety is leveling. They’ve adapted to current debt loads. Compliance is plateauing.
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A COUNCILOR gestures.
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> COUNCILOR
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> Plateau is death.
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> ARIA
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> For markets, yes.
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She flicks her wrist. The hologram shifts to a 3D graph labeled “ANXIETY-DERIVATIVE YIELDS.”
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> ARIA (cont’d)
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> We can trigger a micro-correction. Targeted. A modest rent and baseline adjustment in lower tiers. A twelve to eighteen percent spike in stress should restore volatility and yield.
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The Custodian’s voice is calm, smooth.
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> CUSTODIAN
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> And health outcomes?
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> ARIA
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> Predictable. Increased clinic loads. Sleep deficit. Cardiac events. Within insurable ranges.
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> CUSTODIAN
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> Acceptable casualties?
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> ARIA
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> Within… established tolerance.
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A beat. Aria’s eyes flicker, just a hint of discomfort.
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> CUSTODIAN (O.S.)
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> Then proceed. The markets must feel alive.
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On a side screen, we see a label:
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> “PRODUCT: CLEANSING MICRO-EVENT B-23
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> UNDERLYING ASSETS: HOUSING, HEALTH, LABOR FEAR.”
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A junior analyst – KAI (late 20s) – stands at a side console, watching, jaw tight.
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He discreetly opens a hidden window on his device: a video of crowded clinics, suffering faces. He glances between the two.
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Aria turns to operations staff.
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> ARIA
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> Implement in Red Tier districts 17 through 25. Stagger notifications. The appearance of randomness is… important.
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---
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#### EXT. NEO-HAVEN – VARIOUS – DAY (MONTAGE)
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A SERIES OF QUICK CUTS as the “MICRO-CORRECTION” ripples across the city:
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— A single mother at a kiosk buys groceries. Her wrist device flashes RED.
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> “RENT ADJUSTMENT: +12%
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> EFFECTIVE IMMEDIATELY.”
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Her face falls.
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— A group of teens at a school terminal see their “EDUCATION DEBT PROJECTIONS” suddenly jump.
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— On a factory floor, wage rates quietly adjust downward by a few decimals on overhead screens.
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— In Nia’s clinic, notifications flood the system: “RESOURCE SCARCITY ALERT – RED TIER.”
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— In Lia’s apartment tower, wall-displays in the elevator show a cheerful graphic:
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> “CONGRATULATIONS! Your district has been selected for a Stability Enhancement.”
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Numbers silently climb.
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---
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#### INT. WAREHOUSE – MAIN FLOOR – LATE DAY
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Lia’s wrist device vibrates aggressively.
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She glances: a new alert.
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> “TOWER 19: RISK CATEGORY UPGRADE – RED TIER ENHANCED.”
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> “BASELINE RENT: +15%.”
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> “NEW MINIMUM PAYMENT DUE: TONIGHT.”
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Her breath catches. Her scanning rhythm falters.
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The conveyor belt slows as more workers glance at their devices.
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Overhead, the Anxiety Heatmap glows BRIGHTER RED.
|
||
|
||
SUPERVISOR steps out, raising his voice.
|
||
|
||
> SUPERVISOR
|
||
> Phones down, eyes front! You want your access downgraded?
|
||
|
||
He looks at his tablet, where an on-screen prompt appears:
|
||
|
||
> “MOTIVATE WORKERS:
|
||
> – OPTION A: THREATEN PENALTIES
|
||
> – OPTION B: OFFER PERFORMANCE LOTTERY”
|
||
|
||
He taps OPTION A.
|
||
|
||
His tablet flashes:
|
||
|
||
> “REMINDER: THE SYSTEM ACCEPTS RESPONSIBILITY FOR ALL OUTCOMES.”
|
||
|
||
He exhales, then leans into the script.
|
||
|
||
> SUPERVISOR (louder)
|
||
> This isn’t my doing, people. It’s System-level. You keep your pace, you might win a Stabilizer Bonus. Slow down, and the Stack will notice.
|
||
|
||
Workers murmur, anxious. Belts whir faster.
|
||
|
||
Lia looks up at the narrow windows.
|
||
|
||
Outside, the SKY-SCREENS show the ANXIETY INDEX SPIKING sharply.
|
||
|
||
Her stomach twists.
|
||
|
||
---
|
||
|
||
#### INT. APARTMENT – EVENING
|
||
|
||
Lia bursts in, still in her jumpsuit.
|
||
|
||
Mara sits at the table counting coins and faded PAPER SCRIP – old money, hidden.
|
||
|
||
Tomi plays a game on his tablet: a cute animation of a character jumping over “DEBT LOADS.”
|
||
|
||
> GAME VOICE (O.S.)
|
||
> Pay or fall! Pay or fall!
|
||
|
||
Lia scans the room.
|
||
|
||
> LIA
|
||
> Did you get the notice?
|
||
|
||
Mara nods, eyes wet.
|
||
|
||
> MARA
|
||
> They say the building is… “upgrading.” We must… contribute.
|
||
|
||
She shows a HOLOGRAPHIC NOTICE on the wall:
|
||
|
||
> “TOWER 19 IMPROVEMENT EVENT!
|
||
> RENT ADJUSTMENT: +15%
|
||
> FAILURE TO PARTICIPATE MAY RESULT IN RELOCATION TO SUPPORTIVE HOUSING.”
|
||
|
||
“Supportive housing” is clearly code for something worse.
|
||
|
||
> LIA
|
||
> Relocation where?
|
||
|
||
> MARA
|
||
> They don’t say.
|
||
|
||
Lia’s wrist device pings with a countdown:
|
||
|
||
> “TIME UNTIL PAYMENT DUE: 05:12:30.”
|
||
|
||
> LIA
|
||
> Okay. Okay. I’ll pick up an extra shift. Jay might know a night run.
|
||
|
||
Mara grabs her hand.
|
||
|
||
> MARA
|
||
> You already give them your sleep. If you give them your dreams too… what’s left?
|
||
|
||
Lia pulls away, restless.
|
||
|
||
> LIA
|
||
> What’s left if they throw us out?
|
||
|
||
She paces, scanning the notice, then her own hand-drawn MAPS on the wall.
|
||
|
||
She starts scribbling over one map, adding arrows:
|
||
|
||
* “RENT UP”
|
||
* “CLINIC LOAD UP”
|
||
* “MOOD DOWN”
|
||
* “MARKET UP”
|
||
|
||
Mara watches her, quietly impressed and worried.
|
||
|
||
> MARA
|
||
> You’re always drawing their game.
|
||
|
||
> LIA
|
||
> Maybe if I see the pattern, I can… dodge it.
|
||
|
||
The lights flicker. A citywide announcement tone.
|
||
|
||
---
|
||
|
||
#### INT. APARTMENT – LIVING ROOM – CONTINUOUS
|
||
|
||
The whole wall lights up with a BROADCAST.
|
||
|
||
DR. ARIA VOSS again, serene.
|
||
|
||
> ARIA (on screen)
|
||
> Citizens of Neo-Haven, a minor global correction is underway. This is a normal part of maintaining stability. We thank you for your resilience and cooperation. Remember: your trust keeps our world secure.
|
||
|
||
Behind Aria, a graphic: a smiling city, with little hearts floating.
|
||
|
||
Lia watches, eyes narrow.
|
||
|
||
Then it happens again.
|
||
|
||
For a split second, the FEED GLITCHES.
|
||
|
||
The cute hearts are replaced by a red overlay:
|
||
|
||
> “PRODUCT: ANXIETY-DERIVATIVE BUNDLE – ACTIVE.”
|
||
> “YIELD TARGET: +18%.”
|
||
|
||
Aria’s face flickers, replaced by a WALL OF LEDGERS: rows of names and numbers, including:
|
||
|
||
> “MIREA, LIA – RED TIER – HEALTH YIELD: MODERATE.”
|
||
> “MIREA, MARA – RED TIER – HEALTH YIELD: LOW.”
|
||
> “MIREA, TOMI – RED TIER – FUTURE YIELD: HIGH.”
|
||
|
||
A distorted whisper under Aria’s calm voice.
|
||
|
||
> SATAN (V.O.)
|
||
> You are not people. You are flows.
|
||
|
||
Lia steps closer, transfixed.
|
||
|
||
Tomi looks up from his game, frightened.
|
||
|
||
> TOMI
|
||
> Lia…?
|
||
|
||
The broadcast snaps back to normal.
|
||
|
||
Aria’s concluding line:
|
||
|
||
> ARIA (on screen)
|
||
> Together, we make the system work. Together, we prosper.
|
||
|
||
The wall dims.
|
||
|
||
Silence.
|
||
|
||
> MARA (softly)
|
||
> She lies with such a gentle face.
|
||
|
||
Lia turns to her, shaken.
|
||
|
||
> LIA
|
||
> I saw… our names. Like we were… inventory.
|
||
|
||
> MARA
|
||
> That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you, child. They don’t worship a god of life up there.
|
||
|
||
> LIA
|
||
> What do they worship?
|
||
|
||
Mara looks toward the window, where the SKY-SCREENS glow red.
|
||
|
||
> MARA
|
||
> An idol that eats fear.
|
||
|
||
---
|
||
|
||
#### EXT. TOWER 19 – COURTYARD – NIGHT
|
||
|
||
Later. Night.
|
||
|
||
Workers gather in clumps. The ATM-like KIOSKS in the courtyard are lit up, each with a line of anxious residents.
|
||
|
||
Signs:
|
||
|
||
> “RENT CORRECTION PAYMENTS HERE.”
|
||
> “DELAY FEES APPLY IMMEDIATELY.”
|
||
|
||
Lia and Jay stand in line.
|
||
|
||
Jay scrolls through his phones, shaking his head.
|
||
|
||
> JAY
|
||
> I did four extra runs just to keep us from falling behind. Now they move the finish line.
|
||
|
||
> LIA
|
||
> That’s the point.
|
||
|
||
Jay glances at her.
|
||
|
||
> JAY
|
||
> You sound like one of those basement preachers.
|
||
|
||
> LIA
|
||
> I sound like someone who knows the game is rigged.
|
||
|
||
Her device shows:
|
||
|
||
> “IF YOU CANNOT PAY FULL AMOUNT:
|
||
> – OPTION A: EXTEND DEBT (HIGHER INTEREST)
|
||
> – OPTION B: SELL FUTURE HOURS.”
|
||
|
||
Lia scrolls. There’s also:
|
||
|
||
> “OPTION C: SELL HEALTH YIELD – PARTICIPATE IN STUDY.”
|
||
|
||
> JAY
|
||
> Don’t pick that one. “Study” means they test how much they can break you before you stop working.
|
||
|
||
They reach the kiosk.
|
||
|
||
A HOLOGRAPHIC INTERFACE appears.
|
||
|
||
> KIOSK VOICE
|
||
> Welcome, LIA MIREA. Thank you for choosing to contribute to Neo-Haven’s stability.
|
||
|
||
OPTIONS float in the air. Lia hesitates.
|
||
|
||
> KIOSK VOICE (cont’d)
|
||
> Remaining time to comply: 01:37:12.
|
||
|
||
Jay watches, ready to help.
|
||
|
||
> LIA
|
||
> I can sell some hours. Night shift, warehouse. I’ll sleep on the shuttle.
|
||
|
||
> JAY
|
||
> Lia—
|
||
|
||
> LIA
|
||
> It’s that or relocation.
|
||
|
||
Her finger hovers over “SELL FUTURE HOURS.”
|
||
|
||
The interface flickers again.
|
||
|
||
For a brief instant, the friendly UI peels back, revealing a more sinister BACK-END VIEW: code and labels.
|
||
|
||
> “TRANSACTION TYPE: ANXIETY-FUEL ACQUISITION.”
|
||
> “ESTIMATED STRESS LOAD: HIGH. PROFITABILITY: EXCELLENT.”
|
||
|
||
SATAN’s multi-layered whisper:
|
||
|
||
> SATAN (V.O.)
|
||
> Yes. Give us your nights. The days will follow.
|
||
|
||
Lia’s breathing shallows. Her hand trembles.
|
||
|
||
> JAY
|
||
> Lia. Hey. Breathe.
|
||
|
||
She presses the option.
|
||
|
||
The kiosk flashes:
|
||
|
||
> “THANK YOU FOR YOUR SACRIFICE.
|
||
> YOUR FEAR MAKES US STRONGER.”
|
||
|
||
Then, quickly:
|
||
|
||
> “YOUR EFFORT MAKES US STRONGER.”
|
||
|
||
— like the system corrected itself.
|
||
|
||
Lia steps back, dizzy.
|
||
|
||
---
|
||
|
||
#### INT. TOWER 19 – APARTMENT – LATE NIGHT
|
||
|
||
Mara sits at the table, candle lit. She hums an old tune quietly.
|
||
|
||
Lia enters, drained.
|
||
|
||
> MARA
|
||
> Well?
|
||
|
||
> LIA
|
||
> We’re safe. For now.
|
||
|
||
She drops onto a chair, rubbing her eyes.
|
||
|
||
Mara pours tea – thin but warm. The candlelight softens the room, a contrast to the cold city glare.
|
||
|
||
> MARA
|
||
> Sit. Drink. I will tell you a story.
|
||
|
||
Lia half-smiles.
|
||
|
||
> LIA
|
||
> Buni, I’m really tired.
|
||
|
||
> MARA
|
||
> That is when stories do their best work.
|
||
|
||
Lia relents, cups the tea.
|
||
|
||
Mara begins.
|
||
|
||
> MARA
|
||
> There was once a village that built a granary big enough for everyone. Every harvest, they filled it together. And when winter came, no one went hungry.
|
||
|
||
Lia listens despite herself.
|
||
|
||
> MARA (cont’d)
|
||
> But one day, a clever man said, “If I guard the granary, I should take a little extra. For my trouble.” So he did. And then he needed guards for his extra, and those guards… needed extra too.
|
||
|
||
Lia’s eyes droop, but she’s listening.
|
||
|
||
> MARA (cont’d)
|
||
> Soon, the granary was so well-guarded that the people who grew the grain… were locked outside. The granary was full, but the village was hungry.
|
||
|
||
Lia frowns.
|
||
|
||
> LIA
|
||
> Why didn’t they just break the door?
|
||
|
||
Mara smiles, sad.
|
||
|
||
> MARA
|
||
> Because the clever man told them… that the granary was God. That without it, they would all die. And so they prayed to the door… while their children starved.
|
||
> But God was never the granary. God was in their hands. In the way they planted and shared. They forgot.
|
||
|
||
Lia looks at her own hands, calloused from work.
|
||
|
||
The candlelight flickers warm. The sound of the city outside muffles, softening.
|
||
|
||
For a brief moment, the room feels… different. Safe. The presence of “GOD” – not seen, but felt: a soft hum under the silence.
|
||
|
||
Tomi mumbles in his sleep, smiling slightly.
|
||
|
||
Lia whispers.
|
||
|
||
> LIA
|
||
> What happened to the village?
|
||
|
||
> MARA
|
||
> One day, someone remembered. That’s all a miracle ever is.
|
||
|
||
Lia stares at the candle. The flame reflects in her eyes, mixing with faint reflections of city lights.
|
||
|
||
We PUSH IN on the flame… then match-cut to:
|
||
|
||
---
|
||
|
||
#### INT. SYNDICATE TOWER – SERVER HALL / VIRTUAL SPACE – NIGHT
|
||
|
||
A cold, blue-white space.
|
||
|
||
Rows of SERVER RACKS glow. Data pulses through fiber like blood.
|
||
|
||
Within the digital noise, an ABSTRACT FORM coalesces – a shifting, red pattern of NUMBERS and VOICES: SATAN.
|
||
|
||
Whispers overlapping.
|
||
|
||
> VOICES (V.O.)
|
||
> Late fees…
|
||
> Risk profiles…
|
||
> Non-compliance penalties…
|
||
> Restructured assets…
|
||
|
||
We glimpse Lia’s profile among countless others as a data point.
|
||
|
||
> SATAN (V.O.)
|
||
> They pray to doors.
|
||
> We hold the keys.
|
||
|
||
The ANXIETY INDEX graph rises again.
|
||
|
||
The red glow intensifies.
|
||
|
||
---
|
||
|
||
#### EXT. NEO-HAVEN – CITYSCAPE – NIGHT
|
||
|
||
The city under a red-tinted sky of screens.
|
||
|
||
Text ripples over the skyline:
|
||
|
||
> “MICRO-CORRECTION IN PROGRESS.”
|
||
> “THANK YOU FOR YOUR PARTICIPATION.”
|
||
|
||
We hear Lia’s voice once more, over the city.
|
||
|
||
> LIA (V.O.)
|
||
> They say the crashes are accidents. Corrections.
|
||
> But what if… the crash is the plan?
|
||
|
||
HOLD on the city – numbers racing.
|
||
|
||
**CUT TO BLACK.**
|
||
|
||
**END OF PART 1.**
|
||
|
||
---
|
||
|
||
## VIRAL CLIP IDEAS from this part
|
||
|
||
1. **Clip 1 – “Paying for Every Heartbeat” (7–10s)**
|
||
|
||
* **Hook line (first second):** Lia (V.O.): “They bill us for breathing.”
|
||
* **Visual frame:** Close-up of Lia’s wrist device ticking up debt as her heartbeat sound plays.
|
||
* **On-screen text:** “IMAGINE PAYING FOR EXISTING.”
|
||
|
||
2. **Clip 2 – “Anxiety Index as Weather” (6–8s)**
|
||
|
||
* **Hook line:** TV announcer: “Minor correction, nothing to worry about.”
|
||
* **Visual frame:** Sky-screens showing the ANXIETY INDEX rising like a storm while people rush to work.
|
||
* **On-screen text:** “THEY TRADE YOUR WORRY LIKE STOCKS.”
|
||
|
||
3. **Clip 3 – “Clinic Non-Choice” (8–12s)**
|
||
|
||
* **Hook line:** Nia whispering: “This isn’t care. It’s triage for profit.”
|
||
* **Visual frame:** Tablet forcing her to discharge the chest-pain patient, “System responsible for outcomes” flashing.
|
||
* **On-screen text:** “WHEN ‘THE SYSTEM’ TAKES THE BLAME… WHO SUFFERS?”
|
||
|
||
4. **Clip 4 – “Granary Story” (10–15s)**
|
||
|
||
* **Hook line:** Mara: “The granary was never God.”
|
||
* **Visual frame:** Candlelit kitchen, Mara telling the story while Lia’s eyes reflect the flame.
|
||
* **On-screen text:** “GOD ISN’T THE GRANARY. IT’S THE HANDS THAT SHARE.”
|
||
|
||
5. **Clip 5 – “Satan in the UI” (5–9s)**
|
||
|
||
* **Hook line:** Distorted whisper: “You are not people. You are flows.”
|
||
* **Visual frame:** Broadcast glitches showing ledgers with Lia’s family names labeled as “Health Yield.”
|
||
* **On-screen text:** “IF YOU SAW THE BACK-END OF THE ECONOMY…”
|
||
|
||
---
|
||
|
||
## CAROUSEL / COMIC PANEL IDEAS from this part
|
||
|
||
1. **Carousel 1 – “How the World Now Works” (4–5 slides)**
|
||
|
||
* Slide 1: City under sky-screens – “They don’t show the weather anymore.”
|
||
* Slide 2: Close-up ANXIETY INDEX ticker – “They show how nervous we are.”
|
||
* Slide 3: Lia scanning boxes, debt ticking – “Every move chipped away at her future.”
|
||
* Slide 4: Boardroom with hologram – “Somewhere above, someone called it ‘a minor adjustment.’”
|
||
* Slide 5: Lia’s face, realizing – “For them, our fear is just a line going up.”
|
||
|
||
2. **Carousel 2 – “Mara’s Granary Parable” (3–4 slides)**
|
||
|
||
* Slide 1: Simple drawing of villagers filling a granary – “Once, everyone shared one storehouse…”
|
||
* Slide 2: Guards appearing around the full granary – “Then guards started charging ‘a little extra.’”
|
||
* Slide 3: Hungry villagers outside a locked door – “Soon the grain was safe, and the people were starving.”
|
||
* Slide 4: Hands breaking the lock – “The miracle wasn’t magic. It was remembering.”
|
||
|
||
3. **Carousel 3 – “Micro-Correction” (4–5 slides)**
|
||
|
||
* Slide 1: Cheerful system message: “Stability Enhancement in your district!”
|
||
* Slide 2: A mother’s rent jumping in real-time.
|
||
* Slide 3: Clinics overflowing with patients.
|
||
* Slide 4: Trading floor cheering as Anxiety Index spikes.
|
||
* Slide 5: Caption: “It’s not a bug. It’s a business model. (Allegory, not real-world claims.)”
|
||
|
||
4. **Carousel 4 – “Choice That Isn’t a Choice” (3–4 slides)**
|
||
|
||
* Slide 1: Nia’s tablet: “Approve System Decision” vs “Request Exception (Risk).”
|
||
* Slide 2: Countdown timer forcing her hand.
|
||
* Slide 3: Patient being wheeled away, Nia’s haunted face.
|
||
* Slide 4: Text: “When everything is automated, conscience becomes ‘non-compliance.’”
|
||
|
||
5. **Carousel 5 – “Phones as Chains (Intro)” (3 slides)**
|
||
|
||
* Slide 1: Jay juggling multiple phones, joke caption: “Productivity king.”
|
||
* Slide 2: Subtle cables from phones starting to wrap around his wrist.
|
||
* Slide 3: Text: “Sometimes the leash looks like an upgrade.”
|
||
|
||
---
|
||
|
||
## SAFEGUARDS (for framing & distribution)
|
||
|
||
* This story is **allegorical**, set in a fictional future city with fictional institutions and a symbolic AI called SATAN representing pure extraction. Emphasize that it’s a metaphor for unhealthy systems, not a claim about any real person, group, or current event.
|
||
* Avoid naming or hinting at real-world individuals, companies, religions, or secret societies. Use generic terms like “Syndicate,” “Stack,” and “Syndicate Tower” so viewers understand the critique is about *systems* and *behaviors*, not specific real-world targets.
|
||
* In captions, descriptions, and discussions, frame the narrative around **mental health, structural stress, and solidarity** (how people can redesign systems together), not around conspiratorial thinking or calls for violence. The “enemy” is the logic of extraction, not any real-world community.
|
||
|