Lights from a military truck pierce a cosmically void night, otherwise lit only by lightning bugs. The two soldiers approach a foreboding shack in the middle of these mysterious woods. If the installation weren’t “off the books” above even the president, the destination would be known as the “House Of The Rising Sun”.

Cut to a black screen with just the year: 1933. An original score reminiscent of an eerie, atmospheric-as-hell 1930’s horror movie accompanies the aforementioned title card. The mysterious score further paints the atmosphere in a mystical, wondrous yet unnerving fashion.

Cut back to the two soldiers sitting in their modified military truck.

Soldier 1:

You’re positive that this …Doctor Lang is the real deal?

The first soldier pauses awkwardly in an uncomfortable silence, apprehensive about potentially condescending to the aptitude of the supposedly “acclaimed” German genius.

I’ve just heard that ever since “going Hollywood”, he’s gotten a bit…kooky.

Soldier 2:

You don’t have a language with an expression for…and I quote, “grief bacon”. Without a level of kook

Soldier 1:

Or COOKy as it may be

Soldier 2

(Looking very disappointed at Soldier 1)

Don’t quit your day job

The 2 soldiers get out of the truck, still talking.

Soldier 1:

All I’m saying is that cheesy jokes and surreal vocabulary kept my ass alive during “The Big One”.

Soldier 2:

(Laughing under his breath at the oddity of grief bacon)

I can see how it may fit in time. But holy s*** grief bacon.

Soldier 1:

I didn’t coin it.

The two soldiers approach the shed; a guard is stationed in a room that looks like a box office with bulletproof glass. A slit is open at the guard’s box office type door.

Voice inside:

ID’s, gentlemen?

Soldier 1 and Soldier 2 slide their ID’s in

Soldier 2:

(Asking the ID guard)

Have you heard of the expression grief bacon?

Voice inside:

Is that like a German thing?

Soldier 1:

(Proud of his point being made)

WHAT DID I SAY?

Soldier 2:

Whatever, man, so what the hell are we doing with this Doctor Lang guy?

Soldier 1:

Something old Doc Fritz is calling Die Melodie. Hopefully I didn’t butcher that.

Soldier 2:

Or fr…

Soldier 1

(Sternly)

NOT ONE MORE JOKE

(Normally)

The way I hear it, what we’ll be experiencing may already be surreal enough…the whole concept seems like something out of one of the good Doctor’s movies.

Soldier 2:

…And this Bluesman?

(Laughs)

I know that you didn’t want to hear anything like a joke, but…

Soldier 1:

What do a blues player and a German scientist have in common?

Soldier 2:

…I’m glad that you said it.

Soldier 1 pushes a button on the elevator, waiting for it to arrive. The two enter it once it arrives.

Soldier 1:

Nothing as far as the military or government is concerned. Though Fritzy says we’re experimenting with the frequencies of time itself…whatever the hell that means.

Soldier 2:

And this “Bluesman”?

Soldier 1:

We found him near the road some years ago. He seemed lost to the world, but his guitar…there was something that Dr. Lang and his invention connected to it. We tried hundreds of records and classical musicians, but…Die Melodie seems to only really work with “The Bluesman”

The sound of almost, if not supernatural, plucking of the Kalamazoo KG-14 fills the air, as do spars/electricity. The two soldiers exit the elevator into a very sterile, semi-steampunk laboratory.

A group of scientists and mechanics are setting up a crude, prototypical, almost blueprint-like version of The Tune, which is seen in the middle of the room. Instead of smooth and oblong like the one Randall used, it is much more pointed/pointy. It has big, thick cables and a sharp, jutting helmet. It looks like something German expressionistic that’s bronze (instead of the modern silver version).

Dr. Lang, a short, suit-adorned German professor, is sitting in the corner of the room. He’s wearing a monocle while smoking a curved pipe, lighting up his aged face. The machine is much more pointy headgear with nodes that reach into infinity. Designed to cover the whole face except for an air hole, like a postmodern Man In The Iron Mask headgear.

An EKG is connected to Die Melodie to monitor the heart rate of the poor bastard tasked with using the beauhemoth. The machine is connected to a mess of wires that connect to a medium-sized recording room on the other side of the room.“The Bluesman” is sitting in the recording area with their Kalamazoo KG-14 guitar.

Doctor Lang:

(Stumbles through his native German, trying to find the most appropriate English words to enunciate)

Time, wir schicken einen Mann zurück, traveling durch diese Musik.

Soldier 1 and 2 at the same time:

Time travel?

Doctor Lang:

Ja ja, time travel

An anxious young man stands by the lab door wearing a hospital gown.

Soldier 2:

Who’s the poor bastard that’s going to be testing this beast?

A hospital-gown-adorned man enters the room through double doors on the side of the lab. He is shaking nervously, looking at the machine.

Soldier 1:

Supposedly an unfortunately low-ranking GI who has to choose between this and…

Lieutenant:

(Pushing to maintain the secrecy of the experiment)

Shut the f*** up

(Gives a gun to the head/brain hand sign)

Doctor Lang points to the middle of his forehead and makes the action of that area extending into infinity. He makes a whooshing rocket-type sound to complement the process, smiling like a giddy schoolboy as he does so.

The man is assigned and coerced to sit in the medical bed next to diese Musik.

Lieutenant :

(Whispering to the two soldiers)

Make sure that he doesn’t get up.

The two soldiers anxiously try to look imposing while feeling guilty for their place in the experiment. They keep their hands near their service pistols throughout the process. There is a phone on the wall with a soldier sitting by it waiting for something.

Lieutenant

(Reassuringly to the anxious GI)

You’ll do fine. You’re aware of what you need to do once the procedure starts?

The GI anxiously nods their head.

Lieutenant:

Good, now lie down on the table and wait for Dr. Lang to start the procedure.

Dr. Lang:

Gentlemen, “Das ist ein Evening, den du never in deinem Leben forget wirst.”.

Dr. Lang:

(Mildly struggling for the correct English words)

Ready…helmet?

The very anxious man is almost forced down as diese Musik is placed/slightly forced on his head. It’s clamped into place.

Dr. Lang

(To “The Bluesman”)

Ist re…

(Correcting himself as he pushes the button to talk to his sound booth)

Dr. Lang:

Blues…ready?

The Bluesman:

Ja ja, if it’ll get my ass out of here faster.

The Bluesman begins to play “The House of the Rising Sun”, “They’re Red Hot,” and “Preaching Blues” on his guitar, which plays progressively as the sound is pumped into the room (though especially into the headphones built into the helmet). The EKG begins to beat at a musical yet healthy level as the man’s pulse accelerates to the music. The heart rate begins to normalize/stabilize as the man’s body still shakes ever so often (yet in a trance-like state, not fully conscious nor otherwise).

The soldier by the phone starts calling someone during the process.

Phone Soldier:

Hello, you instructed me to call during the procedure. I’m just checking in on things on your end.

Phone Soldier:

(Surprised and excited)

Really, where did you see it?

(More surprised)

Really? Give me a second

Phone Soldier motions for the lieutenant to present him with a notebook. The phone soldier looks at it diligently.

Phone Soldier:

Is the code he’ll use “Moonlit tablets on a starless night. Charlie Chaplain, Clark Gable, Garry Cooper and the GI’s initials” there?

The phone soldier waits for the voice on the other end to respond.

Phone Soldier:

And it was found…

The other voice responds.

Phone Soldier

(In response)

Exactly when we thought it would be. Yes, sir, so that means

The voice on the other end answers as the phone soldier has an increasingly dour look of despair facially.

Phone Soldier:

I…I… comprehend…as we discussed earlier.

(Swallowing anxiously, terrified of the inevitable)

For…for…for time itself…I….I…I comprehend.

The score from Robert Wiene’s 1920 German expressionistic film The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari, or F.W Murnau’s Nosferatu, ominously begins to play. The bellowing sounds of a Duesenberg Model J’s engine is heard outside of the shed. Doctor Lang and “The Bluesman” are black-bagged and extracted from the secret military experiment/shed. The extractors are masked men, without any identifying clothes, and are sent in. Upon entering, they obliterate everyone who witnessed the experiment. Throughout the “clean up,” silent movie-style black text appears between the soldiers, pleading and questioning what’s happening as they fail to escape.

Upon destroying all of the witnesses, the masked men drop timed explosives as they leave the installation before destroying all evidence of the Die Melodie experiment.

In medias res: Randall, Tricia, and Pamela are standing outside of Soundtrinket Music News headquarters. It now stands twice as big as it was during Tricia’s employment. The three are all disguised: Pamela under the alias Sylvia Crystal, a country music manager from Georgia; Randall as her underpaid, long-suffering intern, Joshua; and Tricia as Gert Serd, her poppy publicist, approach the entrance.

Receptionist:

(Excitedly)

Damn, Sylvia Crystal? I was just listening to your newest produced album. My girlfriend’s been on me since the last awards show it swept.

Pamela tries to get into character despite being out of sorts.

Pamela:

Well, thank ya kindly; can’t believe the musical magic that came outta that ole southern studio.

(Smiles warmly)

Must be that old Tennessee moonshine magic

Pamela/Sylvia:

I was recently made aware that your company received what I’ve been led to believe is “the future of music”?

Receptionist

(Surprised)

My…you do get the best scoops…

Pamela:

Is something the matter?

Receptionist:

It’s…just…

Sighs awkwardly

Tricia:

You’ll be off the record or the top scoop for this story. Either seems a potential win for you.

Receptionist:

I’ve…just always heard it mentioned in whispers and rumors. More theoretical than anything else.

Pamela:

My co-producer has just been very thorough about following through on this.

(Reassuringly)

I could list you as a special contributor for (90’s country band)’s next album.

Receptionist:

I…if there’s anything off here, it may be in the basement; that’s a rumor in itself, too. Though even if it is legitimate, I have no clue how you’d get there.

Pamela:

I’m sure that we’ll manage. My bosses have been very insistent that I “don’t return to work without a deal”.

The three walk outside away from cameras.

Tricia:

At least in my time here, the janitors needed fairly free rein to clean EVERY room. It’d stand to reason the best way to get down there is snagging an elevator key or pass from one of them.

Ext: Vivian’s condo receives a knock as Vivian anxiously hurries to the front door.

Vivian

(Apprehensively)

…Hell…hello

Kelly is terrified; perhaps for the first time in her life, she feels deeply afraid. Even as powerless as she felt during her coma, she understood the logic of it. However, now she was staring Lady Justice and the indifferent, illogical, and unpredictable state of karma in the face. Taking a deep breath, she readied herself for whatever fate karma through Vivian decided.

She felt so consumed in her karmic contemplations she almost tripped on the few steps to Vivian’s condo.

Kelly

(Anxiously)

I…f,*** it…I already know this will only go horribly, but I…

Vivian

(laughs reservedly)

Oh, it’s you

Kelly:

(Coyly feeling herself shrinking into herself)

…Yes, I was just…

Vivian:

Go away

Kelly:

I will…sorry, there’s no way that I can, but I…needed to apologize.

Vivian:

Leave, for eternity

Kelly:

I…

(Takes in the awkwardness of the uncomfortable nature of her situation)

…Just….even if you don’t hear my apology….someone may approach you soon if they haven’t yet and…

(Reserved about what to say to not make things worse)

Vivian is reserved, as are the layers of discomfort that her invasive “dancing night” gave her now, with an extra layer of grime caused by the “turtleneck-wearing man”.

Kelly

(Reassuringly awkwardly)

You can get your taser before we progress, if continuing, if that’d help you feel less uncomfortable with dealing with me. The…” music man” may have more ill intent for you; we can talk through the door, just…if someone odd finds you recently that you don’t know, just…be careful with them and don’t listen to them.

Vivian:

But I SHOULD listen to the b*** that stole my body?

Kelly pauses, realizing that it’s going to be impossible for her to get out of this hole without digging a bigger one.

Kelly pauses anxiously.

Vivian

(Angrily)

…Well?

Kelly:

They may want to do worse.

Vivian

(Laughs mildly hysterically)

Well, aren’t I the lucky one?

(Sarcastically)

What? Did I win some lottery of misfortune or something?

Kelly:

(Anxiously)

It’s not going to sound any saner

Vivian

(Exhausted)

At this point…try me.

Kelly:

(Sighs awkwardly)

…Here goes…they…may be connected to a Y2K Doomsday cult that…they may see you as a potentially major figure.

Kelly laughs at the obvious absurdity of the situation. She slumps down on the stairs leading to Vivian’s condo in defeat.

Kelly

(Oh, so worn)

…And that’s where I lose you

Long silence behind the door as Kelly sighs and walks away, defeated.

Vivian:

…On any other week, you never said why me?

(Sighs, taking in the madness of everything)

At this point…closure wouldn’t be the worst thing, I suppose.

Kelly:

It won’t sound and/or be any more sane…but. From what I know second-hand, they may be looking for an authoritative figure.

Vivian:

So…I obviously can’t be weak and a puppet to your strings, and now I can’t find strength for myself?

That’s…

That’s just fantastic…so you’re basically here to belittle me?

Kelly:

Confessionally, I just woke up from a multi-year coma and found out about that the same day. So I’m in a similar boat of oddity.

(Sighs)

…I don’t completely know the next step either. I just…

(Pauses, coming back to why she came there)

..if what happened with you days ago happened to me, I’d…appreciate a confrontation and/or want or even need closure.

Kelly gets up, feeling resolute in saying all she’s wanted/needed to say without making things worse.

Vivian:

…Do you like tea?

Kelly laughs at the slightly broken tension.

Kelly:

You are British to the end

Cut to the trio having found a key card for the basement level, scanning it by pressing it against the seemingly metallic bottom of the elevator floor button area.

A beeping tone is heard as the elevator accepts its new destination. They exit the elevator to a hallway of white walls and hidden boardrooms. It’s as clandestine a hidden area as The Locker, though much more civilian and corporate-looking. It’s much more populated with professionally suited businessmen and women.

The hall lights are much sharper (almost nauseatingly so), filled with LED lights. The walls are all very modern-looking with glass panels between boardrooms. The only militaristic-looking area is heavily locked.

Randall:

So, if I were a top-secret temporal experiment, I’m sure I’d probably be there. But how do we get in?

Tricia:

No clue; I’m still in awe of this place being real. It was always just…rumored, joked about it ever since I was an employee here. It was a sort of joke on nostalgia, Die Melodie. One of the more avant-garde…

Tom Chesterton, Tricia’s former pre-coma boss, walks down the hall. He’s gotten bigger with age but holds himself more uncomfortably now, wearing a suit and very dyed jet-black hair.

Tom:

You look…never mind, that would be ridiculous.

(Laughs off his uncertainty anxiously). Anyways, I’ve heard that we’re finally breaking “our little secret” to evolve the music world at large.

Tom looks over the three mildly skeptically before rising to a jubilant, ego-driven state.

Tom:

Well, it’s definitely the year for revelations. I’m just thrilled that I’m the one to bring this very important…no, HISTORIC development to a broader audience.

Tom motions for the trio to follow him into a conference room. A broad-shouldered man wearing a suit with a familiar short haircut is sitting at the desk in the middle of the room.

Tom:

(To the seated man)

Hi dad

The man turns around, revealing Todd Dalton smiling at this surreal reunion.

Todd Dalton:

(Laughs)

Isn’t this serendipitous?

(Continues laughing at his good luck)

Hey, hey, the gang’s all here.

Todd Dalton

(Contextualizing Tom’s different last name)

Divorce can be such a pain in the ass.

Tom:

But we’ve found a much more adventurous life since exploring aspects of each other’s profession.

Todd Dalton:

Speaking of, are you wanting to see The Tune? I promised my boy a chance to see something “truly special”. We were going to try an unfortunate intern; it’s getting ever closer to “His Time”. However…

(Pauses and points to Pamela)

Todd Dalton:

As you used to say, “the universe acts unusually”

Todd Dalton laughs

Tom:

Hell of a bring your dad to work day. As much as I’d heard about Pamela here being exceptional at staying under the radar I wasn’t expecting to see you “crazy kids* until after “he arrives”.

Tom pushes a button on the desk to call for security. The guards arrive posthaste.

Tom:

(To the guards)

We’re going to need an escort to

Against a back wall in the middle of the room stands a refurbished prototype adaptation of Die Melodie. It uses aspects of the original, yet with much more futuristic elements than even the university model that Pamela and Randall used.

Tom:

(Smiling smugly)

Benefits of having the best of both worlds. When I inherited the old antique that was Die Melodie I thought that I had a mildly functional yet largely ineffective antique that somewhat responded to music. That is until Todd introduced me to Restless Minds.

Todd Dalton:

We just needed the right mind, in a controlled circumstance that they were more comfortable with. Hence your university test with The Tune. Testing a sample of the tech before we get to “the good stuff”.

Todd points to Die Melodie, smiling proudly.

Todd:

That’s the real deal, and a revised version of Die Melodie, the original version that’s set up to be the last. Able to send the right noggin further than what you were using.

Tom:

(Smiling smugly)

The power of combining both of our worlds.

Todd:

Scientific military engineering and

Tom

(As he air guitars)

ROCK N ROLL!

Todd whistles for two guards to aim their guns at Randall. They motion for him to lie on Die Melodie.

Randall is placed forcefully into The Tune as the scientists in the back of the room set the time/year to one of an unseen placement. Randall groans as his mind begins to expand in his third eye. The familiar nausea is returning.

Pamela panics upon seeing the “when” the time is set for on the dial. She begins to panic.

Pamela:

You can’t send him back that far; his body could barely take seventeen years back.

General Todd:

He’ll adapt. I

(Oddly knowingly)

KNOW that he will

Tricia:

This isn’t something that you can put on faith.

Tricia grabs a pistol from a nearby guard’s holster.

Tricia:

(Aiming the gun at Todd)

Do you think that I’m kidding?

Todd Dalton:

(Self-assured)

I do, and I know that you’ll get life somewhere very dark regardless of how this plays out.

Tricia fires away from the machine, trying to make a point. Tricia, however, doesn’t account for the magnetic frequency between the computer and The Tune. Maybe it was her adrenaline-driven anxiety in the surreal nature of the moment, or perhaps it was The Tune affecting the moment itself. The bullet strikes Die Melodie, sending him back much further than ever before.

Randall wakes up groggy with a headache that won’t stop. Something was wrong (to say the least) however, he was experiencing something surreal…a… fuzziness in his ears. His mind overall felt an unnatural fuzz. Feeling as though he came from a different time, but such a notion was ridiculous.

This was obviously his time, he thought, certain in himself. Yet he was unsure as to who that self may be. Whoever it may be seemed to be a very cluttered individual; he saw papers strewn around his…office? He wanted to guess.

Exploring his dwelling further, he found himself in a rural apartment potentially within a country house. What was this auditory fuzz, though? A constant pinging, as though no sound could clear. He needed to get past this and get on with his day.

Apparently, music played a major role in his life, whoever he may be. A knock is heard outside of his living quarters.

Assistant:

(Waves at Randall, trying to get his attention. Randall is mentally somehow translating the assistant from German)

Hello? I…

(Anxious to disturb such a virtuoso)

Assistant’s written note:

I was just sent to ask about the current status on Moonlight Sonata?

Randall was frantically trying to search his mind for the writer of said piece, with a revelatory realization on the page. Of course, he laughed to himself at the notion of being anyone else; he was Ludwig van Beethoven.

Randall/for all current intents and purposes Ludwig Van:

I…I do apologize; it has been a truly maddening few hours. This ..

His voice sounds irregular; he’s only able to fully hear the middle-frequency tones with an ever-present, unavoidable ringing.

Randall/Ludwig Van stumbles through meaning and state of being, reaching for a reason behind his current state.

Randwig:

I…I do apologize; truly, this…this new piece…must truly be a piece of madness.

Assistant

(Laughing off the state)

It truly has been the most interestingly divisive for Germany in recent years. Hopefully, the French reform will help to elevate you artistically. Do you still feel as artistically driven by this aristocratic renaissance?

(Reassuringly)

Hopefully, your recent passions for this third symphony won’t be too off-putting to your Moonlight Sonata piece?

Randall is still taking everything in, which the assistant sees as an artistic contemplation.

Assistant:

Yes…in your own thoughts as ever. I’ve been reassured that the newest…tune has quite a…contemplative sound? One for the mind?

Randwig:

(Breaking his silence)

Yes, I require a piece for more...quiet contemplation as of late.

(Randall laughs)

Randwig:

I’ve had the most…complicated thoughts as of late.

Assistant:

I’m just glad that you’re past your rants at “the tyrannical little man”. Your “lady love” is excitedly awaiting her masterpiece. Though I’m sure she’s never been shy to remind you.

Cut to Kelly and Vivian sitting in a local cafe in 1999.

Vivian:

So…another Y2K end-of-the-world claim, huh?

(Dryly)

You’d be big in my class

Kelly:

I…

Vivian:

(Cutting her off)

Am sorry? For taking over my life? Or taking up my day? Where is this supposed “boogieman” meant to coax my next six months?

Kelly and Vivian are approached by Randalt in a new vessel.

Randalt:

(Gives a smile that’s mutually mysterious/unnerving and inviting)

Speak of the devil

Randalt:

I just want to give you the answers you’re looking for already. We’ve…

(Pausing, taking in “Kelly’s now”)

I’ve already been through aspects of this before, and you’re reservedly curious, especially given your current understandable guilt. I have no interest in either of you as a vessel, and harming you in any way is antithetical to what I’m here for.

Kelly:

And that is?

Randalt

(Smiling)

What I’ve always wanted to do, what even your current Randall wants/wanted. To share his world with you.

Kelly:

Both being in the same mind?

Randalt:

Isn’t that why Vivian is here? A confession driven by your guilt in being in her? Isn’t us being in you the karmic balance you’re looking for?

Kelly:

(Motions towards Randalt’s current body)

And what about them?

Randalt:

They’ll be as free as a pea,

Kelly:

You were really working on that one, huh?

Randalt:

…It’s been a lonely world without you putting me in my place. Bad rhymes take up my time.

Kelly:

But you still won’t tell me what happens to me?

Vivian

(Interrupting)

…Can…I go?

Randalt:

I don’t mind if you leave. Kelly and I will need to go to…I suppose “prime me’s dorm for this process anyway. Are you ready to know truths about me and you that my current self won’t share?

Cut to Randwig in 1802; he is still deeply, passionately enraptured at the thought of his love for Kelly. However, it’s being converted into an amalgam of Kelly and a woman he knows yet can’t fully name (who he’ll later come to realize is Countess Giulietta Guicciardi).

(Pausing to recall Randwig’s recent wordage)

Assistant:

I’m sure that your “lady in swooning”, Countess Giulietta Guicciardi, calls for …complicated thoughts, as you’ve said. You must delve further into these feelings if it inspires you. How bad can such a muse be?

Randwig:

I just…

(Laughs anxiously)

…have had the most surreal thoughts of late.

Cutting to Randalt and Kelly in Randall’s dorm room. Randalt motions to Randall’s bed, which he offers to Kelly, while Randalt takes the floor.

Randalt offers his hand to Kelly as they both lie down.

Randalt plays the CDs “Grace” by Jeff Buckley, “Fables of the Reconstruction” by REM and “Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness” by Smashing Pumpkins (Twilight to Starlight disc) from Randall Prime’s triple-CD player in the dorm.

Randalt:

I’ve gotten past the point of needing The Tune for this. I just need the right song whenever I want.

(Motions towards their neck amplifier)

Randalt:

Especially with this

They both lie down as Kelly and Randalt both enter/share Kelly’s mind in her 1991 memories of the old Restless Minds classroom.

Randalt:

This is an interesting inversion

Kelly:

And invasion

Randalt:

Isn’t that karmic?

I guess for both of us, I don’t have a physical body here. Or I feel…some disconnect from my “rooted self”. Whatever that’s about. I am as you were and you are as Vivian was. Isn’t this/isn’t that what you were looking for? Isn’t that what you were looking for with Vivian?

Randalt

(Smiling teasingly)

Don’t you want to know what happens to you?

Kelly

(Correcting Randalt)

What MAY happen. You can’t influence Vivian if we’re both in here, and I’ve had years of practice in this.

Randalt:

(Gives a long, awkward pause)

That’s what I love about you

Kelly:

Well, I wish that I could find a similar fondness for you in your deception.

Randalt

(Offended)

I’m hurt, truly. I’ve never been anything but myself with you.

(Speaking plainly)

Will ever be my total truthful self with you. I’m still the same Randall who you shared a deep conversation with at that overpriced resort. Potentially more honest even than my former self.

Randalt:

He hasn’t gotten to where I am yet.

Kelly:

So you know where he is now then? Where you were?

Randalt pauses bashfully

Randalt:

Not…entirely

Kelly:

Ha, so you’re not inevitable then.

Randalt:

(Reservedly)

I’ll…concede to that.

(Returns to normalcy)

BUT I know why they’ll really want him back.

Kelly:

To stop your shallowly vain boss.

Randalt

(Laughing)

Oh, there’s more than enough vanity and ego to share. I’ve grown in ways he won’t or currently can’t, because I know what’s more important in a greater sense. OUR greater sense. We’re stuck here anyways; I just want to share with you more of the in-between that leads to me.

Kelly

(Defensively)

May lead to you

Randalt:

That depends on how true his…our north star is, and right now ..wherever my prime self is, you’re pretty damn…

Randall and the assistant at the same time as it cuts back to 1802

Randalt and Randwig’s Assistant:

Far. You need to finish this damn piece. If only to get your mind onto something more in the now. I implore you to go to the soiree this weekend and see Countess Giulietta Guicciardi. She may help straighten your thoughts. Goodnight.

The assistant leaves Randwig alone, sitting in front of Beethoven’s piano as he passionately tries to stumble his way through an instrumental version of Patience by Guns N Roses. Meanwhile, Randall Prime is still physically stuck, deeply connected to The Tune/Die Melodie, connected to a heart monitor, and an IV for fluids and liquid food. Split screen of Tricia and Pamela contemplating their next potential step while Randwig and Kelly both fondly/passionately think/reminisce of the other, both lost in time and space.

The end of issue/episode 6 and Season/Volume 1

© August 2026, Copyright by Lawrence Gaines, All Rights Reserved, No Reproduction Without Permission August 16th, 2026

Seeing her true physical face to face after years of being connected with Kelly mentally for so long. Ever-present shared/connected memories fill both of their minds. They’re both awkwardly thinking about their slow dance from when Kelly was in Vivian. Despite the external layer of grime from their first dance being with someone else’s face, the history they’d had growing together.

He was excited to see her face-to-face after having only connected with her mentally/intellectually until now. They were both sitting in awkward silence, trying to take in the totality of this surreally weird situation.

Randall:

(First thing coming to mind)

Psychic ability does wonders for your eyes.

(Coyly)

…Not…that you ever had bad eyes.

Kelly:

(Teasingly)

It’s fine; I was surprised by your college grades. Vivian seemed more impressed with your skills than I took you for…

Kelly:

(Awkwardly seeing the uncomfortable look on Randall’s face)

Sorry…I know that you want to think of her. …It was a really weird night.

Randall:

(Anxiously excited)

…I…miss seeing you as more than just a conversational phantom in my dreams. You as yourself in 3D seems a bit surreal to me and….

Kelly:

(Excitedly goofy)

Yyess ?

Randall:

We…we should talk after you do your thing to help us get a room. …There’s a lot more I want to say.

(Kelly laughs)

Kelly:

(Trying to break the awkwardness of the situation)

I wasn’t expecting A RESORT for our lodging.

Randall:

I know, right?

(Shrugs)

Hide where they’d least expect, though I guess?

(Randall smiles awkwardly)

Tricia taps on the window.

Tricia:

Hurry up, Pamela says they have a room, but we need you to “do your thing” to secure it.

Kelly does her thing to help sway the concierge to get them open rooms without inhabiting them. Kelly and Randall arrive in their room with separate beds. They both get into their individual beds, trying to brush off the weirdness of the past eight years.

Kelly:

(Semi-reservedly)

I got us a room together. I hope that I don’t regret it. This is already weird.

Randall:

(Reservedly)

God, yes, the last thing I need after eight years of you in my noggin is getting closer.

Kelly:

Still less awkward than the “fartplosion” you made trying to get into that frat house?

(Laughs)

Or fart house

They both laugh, reflecting nostalgically.

Randall:

God, this feels so self-indulgent.

(Sighs)

Us growing up together yet not growing up together.

Kelly:

(Reassuringly)

Hey, the Randall show was better than half the s*** I watched on TV when I was last fully me. Movies have gotten more interesting since ‘91 too.

(Sighs)

God I was so f***ing stressed out all the time. You…

Randall:

What?

Kelly:

(Bashfully)

Nothing

Randall:

You’ve been riding in and growing with me for years; I want to get to know you. Why me? Lazy bastard that I am.

Kelly:

THAT

Randall:

Laziness?

(Laughs awkwardly, offended)

That’s flattering.

Kelly:

(Sighs)

I don’t know,

(Turns in her bed to look at Randall)

You always seemed to improve from that, but…I always pushed myself and it led me to…less than nowhere. You’ve always had more of a…Zen approach to life, and I’ve…always been an overwhelmed wreck.

Randall:

(Looking at Kelly, feeling a surreal warmth, finally seeing the full, true her)

I think that you pushed me too. In ways. You got me past Stacy.

Kelly

(Laughs)

The bad poet

Randall:

God, that was you calling her that.

(Laughs reflectively)

I thought that she brought out a…sassiness in my subconscious..

Kelly:

Her rapping was grating to my ears. …Our ears?

Randall laughs, thinking about the emotional bloodletting he would have endured from the Stacy breakup if he was truly alone.

Randall starts to cry, feeling closer to Kelly yet apart from her and proud of her in ways he’d never thought of.

Randall

(Through tears)

Thank you, thank you so much, Kelly.

Kelly

(Smiling warmly)

Of course, I guess I’d say it’s what I’m here for, but I don’t know what that is.

(Contemplating her fuller existence)

…Being that made me

(Thinking out her current situation)

…not that…I guess. I feel..

Kelly and Randall

(Together)

Lost

They both laugh at the surreal experience they’ve found the other in. They both anxiously start doing the only thing they can think of to ground them: whistling “Patience” by Guns N Roses. They both say good night to the other, feeling an oddness of it being more of an external action now then an intuitive knowing. They both nod off to sleep thinking of their last lives within the other and their potential futures without.

North American Scum, By: LCD Soundsystem, wakes him up as the bed and room itself awakens him more until he sits up. A mysterious voice begins to hum along.

Mysterious Voice:

Can’t get it outta your head, can you?

(Laughs)

Welcome to the brave new world!

Randall:

(Groans)

The hell?

Mysterious Voice:

Los Angeles, but we get that a lot, ooo suddenly IN THE FUTURE - what does it mean?

(Laughs jubilantly)

I just want to psych you up,

(Robotically trying to sound personable)

My Dude.

Keeps humming along to “North American Scum”

Mysterious Voice:

I’m going to desperately try to get this damn song out of my brain. An intrinsically deep earworm for you, especially you indie rocker showstopper, was vital to bridge you to THIS now. However, we can talk through the flying car’s AI outside when you’ve woken up a bit more.

Randall groans, opening his eyes, waking up in his king-sized, perfectly made “bed-mallow”. An AI-connected bed that’s “Sleepy-time Perfected,” as the label on the mattress insists. (A subsidiary of “Hidden Orchard” consolidated).

Randall’s AI system, Hey-O, comes online.

Hey-O:

Good morning, I am Hey-O, your personalized “Wake-Uptron”. May I get you some orange juice? You seem to have a headache? Perhaps an aspirin?

Randall starts stretching while still taking in this strange new world.

(Groans)

What…

Hey-O:

They mentioned you’d wonder what year it is?

(Robo sassiness)

You humans can be so slow sometimes; it is 2007 for the record. He told me to say “welcome to the future “ I thought it seemed too…operatic, but he can be too.

Randall:

(Accusingly)

So, what‘s the downside to this “super utopia”? Is there some sort of homeless death mill around here or something?

(Laughing anxiously at the world he’s found himself in)

Making some chum out of bums?

Mysterious Voice:

(Brushing the reference off)

The notion of homelessness is such a human sense of inequality. We’re beyond that now. Nobody in this new world will live with any such pain or uncertainty.

Mysterious Voice:

(Reassuringly)

I’ve called a flying car to help show you the wonders of my work. It should be outside the Reynolds Manor by the time you’re outside.

(Excitedly)

I’m sure that you’ll enjoy the ride.

Randall leaves the Reynolds Manor as a flying car (shaped like an electric razor with fan-type engines and reverse magnetism to fly) descends. There is a small logo for the “Forbidden Edge” automotive company on the car. The door opens as Randall reservedly debates whether to enter the car or not. An AI with a model based on a curvy red-haired woman enters from the trunk of the car and invites Randall inside.

AI Woman:

Good morning, Randall, my boss wanted me to welcome you to their exciting new world with a warm and welcoming face.

The AI woman sees the uncomfortable look on Randall’s face and reserved body language.

AI Woman:

(Disappointed)

…You could always walk there, but that just seems…disappointingly old-fashioned...and overly exhausting.

Randall:

(Under his breath)

A flying car does seem pretty f***ing fun.

AI Woman;

I can go back into the trunk during the flight if you’d be more comfortable. My boss just felt you’d be more comfortable with a guide on the way to Tricia.

Randall stands up, reserved, to contemplate getting in for another few seconds. He looks at the new world outside of the manor before becoming overwhelmed at getting lost in this new world, succumbs, and gets in. He finds the seats as comfortable and deeply form-fitting as the bed he woke up in.

Randall:

(Pleasantly surprised)

Holy s***

The door closes as the flying car takes off. He feels a sudden jerk of takeoff, then a surreal feeling of weightlessness as the car starts its preset course.

AI Woman:

(Smiling warmly)

He said that you’d say something like that. Would you like to hear or watch the news to familiarize yourself with the new world? I can also narrate the latest news stories if you’d prefer to hear it from me.

Randall:

(Contemplatively overwhelmed)

..I’ll just watch the news.

A small HD flat-screen TV descends from the top of the car.

News program:

Today marks the official disarmament of the final nuclear weapon. In a world now without borders, there is no more need for offense.

(Transitions into a chorus of a new story)

With all being one, there’s no further division. Without division, there is no need for a deterrent. Without a detriment, what use is weaponry? Praise to the Savior.

News program:

(Returns to a formal news reporter tone)

Meanwhile…

The flying car arrives at Tricia’s condo, by the sea. Randall is excited to see the sea filled with manatees, dolphins, and peacefully engaging in the water, grazing together. The sea is almost crystal-like in its overwhelming light, clear, beautiful blue.

Tricia exits her condo wearing higher-end, formal clothes. Looking much healthier than she’s looked since 1980.

Tricia:

(Smiling excitedly)

Hey!

Tricia gives Randall a warm hug, seemingly finally content.

Tricia:

Welcome home, kinda weird seeing a new you, having just seen another you just yesterday. However, they said it may be something I’d need to adjust to.

Randall:

(Reservedly)

…Should it be?

Tricia:

(Smiling excitedly)

Of course

(Continues smiling broadly)

I’m so happy.

Randall feels happy for Tricia that she seems to be feeling content after her hellish years from the coma, yet still has an ever-present reservation.

Randall:

I’m…

(Trying to flow naturally conversationally despite his mild anxiety)

…glad you’ve been through so much before The Locker.

(Smiles reassuringly)

You deserve happiness.

Tricia:

I can swim with freaking manatees on the regular and end my day and…

Randall:

(Interrupting Tricia, overwhelmed by curiosity and rising anxiety)

…So what happened?

Tricia:

(Unnervingly jubilant)

They saved everything

(Smiling again (if she’s stopped since first seeing her))

IT happened in ‘99

Randall:

Who was the programmed person?

Tricia:

I don’t really recall; it was such a different, less fulfilling place then.

Randall:

(Anxiously)

…And…what happened to Pamela and Kelly?

Tricia:

Oh them

(Thinking deeply)

You know I haven’t thought about them in a while; that seems like a lifetime ago. But I’m finally free from so much.

(Smiles excitedly)

Please tell me that you tried the flying car?

Randall:

(Still weirded out by the oddities of this new world)

…I did.

Tricia:

Was it awesome or what?

Randall:

It was pretty damn cool.

Tricia:

And is this not the best air you’ve breathed in years? I feel so light and full of thought daily.

(Laughing pleasantly)

I think they even solved allergies.

Randall:

But don’t you miss Kelly and Pamela?

Tricia:

(Whispering under her breath)

I…do wonder about Kelly…. sometimes.

(Laughing back to normalcy)

I could live without Pamela, though.

(Continues smiling)

Now I don’t miss anybody.

Randall:

So, what happened on New Year’s Eve 1999?

Tricia:

For a moment, he won, then he let us all win.

Randall was curious about whatever the hell happened that fateful night. However, he also knew he probably wouldn’t get any more answers from Tricia.

Tricia:

(Reassuringly)

If this was such a hellscape, why would you still be alive? Or would the world be in such global peace?

(Her smile changed from a broad, overwhelming one to a smaller, warmer one)

They want us to excel with them as the greater leader than we’ve been to ourselves.

Randall:

I…

(Taking in the logic of this utopia yet with an overwhelming sense of foreboding)

(Laughs thinking of the most random thing he could think of)

Tricia:

(Knowingly)

You want to swim or surf with the manatees?

Tricia pushes a button on a remote, and a drone flies over. It has three buttons: one with a down arrow, one with an up arrow, and another open-clasp button.

Tricia:

When you’re ready, push the down button, and it’ll pick you up. I programmed the course to be 5 inches into the ocean over there.

(Points to the oceanside by her condo)

If you’re uncomfortable with this, you can press the down button for it to lower you and abandon course.

(Reassuringly)

Although…cannon-balling into the ocean is particularly awesome if you push the open clasp button slightly above the ocean.

Tricia pats Randall on the back warmly.

Tricia:

(Excitedly)

Have fun

Tricia smiles, knowing the exceptional thrills that Randall is in for. Randall contemplates how comfortable he is with indulging this further, waking up to the dark end of this nightmare vs thoroughly exploring once in a lifetime opportunities. He presses the down button and begins to soar over the clear blue skies. With light, breezy air and the smell of salt opening his nose in a way he’d never known.

How could someone feel so oppressed yet so free at the same time? He was flying yet feeling six feet under. The world looked so much cleaner beneath him, technologies he didn’t even begin to understand converting oxygen into energy and emitting hydrogen and vice versa. He felt the fullest he had ever felt in his life, yet completely weightless.

The fresh wind was blowing on his face and whole body as he felt like a bird. He was approaching the preset course as the drone had stopped. He pressed the open clasp button and felt the sudden drop as the clasps opened, and he intuitively entered a cannonball position. Feeling a rush of the clearest blue water, the salt didn’t even sting his eyes as he saw hundreds of fish beside him.

Many types he couldn’t even fathom living together, yet there was the ever-present harmony of this new world. What the f*** was wrong with him for brushing aside this heaven? Randall started swimming deeper, perfectly able to see the gorgeous kelp, seaweed, and reef life. The colors of the fish and beautiful reefs he had only known through documentaries.

He swam deep feeling a personal level of Zen yet…alone. As much as he had hated having Tricia and Kelly in his mind, he was only thinking of ..her. That night they shared dancing at Vivian’s house, feeling a similar yet opposite way to now. To speak nothing of the conversation at the resort that he now longed to get back to.

He missed her. He…needed her, wanted her, felt incomplete without her. That’s why this wasn’t heaven, because she wasn’t there. She was always there with him, and for him, yet now he felt a profound…emptiness as fulfilling as any utopia was; it wouldn’t be perfect without her.

Patience by Guns N Roses kept coming back to him, unable to shake the song or his thoughts of her. Swimming to the shore, he felt reborn. Awake and aware of what he needed to do, but he wasn’t sure how the hell to do it. Randall arrived on the shore to see three surfers approach him, all smiling with the same blissfully blank enthusiasm of the doctors from The Locker.

Surfer 1:

Hello friend, it’s a blissful day, isn’t it?

Surfer 2:

Bluest seas you’ve ever…seen?

(The three surfers laugh blissfully yet unnervingly in unison)

Randall:

Uh…huh

Surfer 1:

Give you a ride, friend?

Surfer 3:

We’d love to help our new friends.

Surfer 2:

And everyone is a friend now.

Randall:

(Placating to the newly blissed-out utopia)

Say, friend, are there still places for new music in this new bliss?

Surfer 2:

Of course, what is bliss without rhythm?

Surfer 1:

We’ll take you to The Tune Zone.

Randall:

It’s fine, I’ll walk.

Surfer 1:

You’ll go with us now.

“Roots Radicals” by Rancid or “Reach For The Sky” by Social Distortion suddenly starts to play from the sky. A flying Camaro rapidly approaches them with a more hardened Pamela with a robotic left leg and a cowboy hat at the wheel. There are three blind punks in the back. Ideally, the punks are wearing pink album shirts such as Milo Goes To College, by: The Descendants shirt, Marquee by: Television T-shirt, and a Parallel Lines, by Blondie shirt between them. All three put their hands to their temples as the three surfers shout in extreme pain.

Pamela opens the shotgun side of the door.

Pamela:

Get the f*** in

Pamela throws a flash grenade out to disorient the zoned-out surfers.

Pamela:

(Sternly)

You better not have been bull s***ting me kid.

Randall quickly gets into the shotgun seat as he grabs a tranq-gun in the car. He blasts at the surfers, one of whom grabs onto the car. One of the surfers reaches the trunk bed with the other psychics as the car takes off.

Black-screen POVs cycling between the three psychics; only sound is present as they try to find the surfer without sight. A surge of red blasts as one of the surfers begins to hit the blind psychic

Surfer:

Hit me, sumbitch?

Surges continue in the brain of the blind psychic.

Switch POV’s between the psychic punks, with the distance between the surfer to the psychics between them.

Randall:

So what the hell happened?

Pamela:

Give me a second; it’s just taking me back hearing YOU ask that.

Randall:

So, the New Year’s Eve drop switch flip happened?

Pamela:

No s***

Pamela gives the Camaro a sharp turn, throwing the surfer off balance. The surfer begins to groan with a painful psychic headache, overwhelmed by their pulse. The surfer falls from the boat into the ocean below.

Randall:

F*** off, I’m about eight years behind.

Pamela:

Ah normalcy

The flying “grabber drone” detects their car and pursues them.

The tentacle arms begin to extend, forcing open the car’s door, throwing the door into the ocean as it grabs Randall, pulling him out of the car.

(Pamela grabs a pistol)

Pamela:

(Shouting to Randall)

Randall, whatever you do, tell Kelly….

The drone extends another sharp tentacle towards Pamela as she unloads on the drone, exploding it and sending Randall falling, screaming as he does.

Randall awakens back at the resort in 1999.

Randall:

F***

Kelly groans, waking up.

Kelly:

Bad dream?

Randall:

(Still breathing anxiously)

Much worse; we need to talk tomorrow. I’ve gotta…at least attempt to get my nerves to return to normalcy.

Kelly starts to try nodding off again. During this, Randall is overwhelmed by the nagging, pervasive thought he’s had in both timelines.

Randall:

(Coyly)

…Would…you…after

(Laughs at the enormity of their current epic)

…If this is ever over, would you want to go on a date?

Kelly:

(Laughs anxiously)

What would we talk about? I’ve been with you for years. Knowing things as you, have you felt me that whole time?

Randall:

So…have you been thinking more about yourself during this? Long car rides for you to grow outside myself.

Kelly:

I…feel exhausted by music at this point. I also can’t help but feel ME being in an authoritative role would be a cheat. If there is a legit Antichrist…I don’t know; it puts what I can do into a new light.

(Kelly sighs, taking in the awkwardness of their first “half date”)

I…as awkward as the experience as getting there was…felt strangely content “riding shotgun” as Vivian. She had the knowledge base I wish I had, yet the stability I never did.

(Taking a deep, awkward swallow with an awkward lump in her throat)

…I think we…or at least I should talk to Vivian directly. With your experiences with Tricia, I don’t want that to be my legacy if I can have a more direct second chance. Even if we just danced, it was still a line that I crossed, which I need to make right.

Cut to The Quatro the next day, sitting outside a skate park.

Tricia:

(Sighs disappointed)

So I’m the sellout?

Randall:

You…seemed happy.

Tricia:

…That’s newer, at least.

Kelly:

(Excitedly)

Flying cars?

Randall:

Yeah, automated with TV screens in them and everything. Although, everything seemed…blissful yet...candy-coated. Like almost everyone was on a shared high or something.

Kelly:

And I was…

Randall:

I don’t know, but psychics were the only ones that didn’t seem welcome.

Kelly:

(Sighs in a familiar dower manner)

Are we ever?

Pamela:

And who was the poor bastard with the Antichrist Code?

Randall:

It seemed…like a hive mind at that point. Almost everyone there seemed…different…changed..

Kelly:

Yikes

Tricia:

So how did you get there? What happened to “their you” during that?

Kelly:

He wasn’t in your body if they were here.

Tricia:

Which broadens the mystery.

Pamela:

And just because you’re back here, does that mean that they’re back there?

Randall:

The Tune keeps coming back up constantly. They played some sort of…future song to connect me with…well…I guess that’s me.

(Sighs and mildly groans)

Ah, there’s that headache I figured I’d get for trying to understand this. There’s also apparently a “Tune Zone,” so…I’ll just start calling them AC. It’s a bit less continually unnerving, and they seem as interested in it as us.

Pamela:

So we need to use it to stop it, but they seem to need it to start it?

Randall:

(Groans)

…And there’s that headache again.

Tricia:

Maybe the presence of a specific song or type of musical frequency may keep whoever that you is is grounded to whoever they may be here?

(Angrily)

S*** seemed to wreck my noggin when you were me.

Pamela:

At the risk of stating or questioning the obvious

(To Tricia)

You seem to have come full circle regarding working with us.

Tricia:

I don’t like the notion of myself being superseded ever again.

Pamela:

(Firmly while trying to be diplomatic)

You say that now.

Randall:

Objectively, if she wants to prove herself in fighting the good fight, we have a few more months to do it. And…

Pamela:

Your status quo seems to currently be the most important?

Randall:

(Disappointed in his potential future self)

…It seems that way. I feel that it’d be good for you two.

(Pointing to Pamela and Tricia)

To watch me, while you…

(Points to Kelly)

…should do what we discussed last night.

Kelly

(Clarifying)

I need to right some wrongs.

Tricia:

Don’t we all:

(Sighs)

…But what the hell do I know? I’m just the one with good tas…

(Pauses, coming to a revelation)

…I think I know how to find another potential “Tune”.

(Notions to Pamela)

Tricia:

Do you still have a music industry alias in New York? If so we may actually be able to prevent…

Cut to Vivian in a history classroom.

Vivian:

The end of the world

(Pauses dramatically, addressing her class)

That’s an ever-present, yet ever-constant fear and monumental event throughout humanity’s history. From Johannes Stöffler, the German mathematician and astrologer’s global flood prediction of 1524 to that “peaky Yorkshire witch Mary Bateman’s Second Coming hoax” of 1806.

(Takes a deep breath)

All this tosh to say lots of people through the years just needed to keep their hair on.

(Laughs awkwardly

I…know that you’re feeling that you’re “the apocalypse generation” with Y2K forthcoming.

(Takes a breath thinking of her day with Kelly in her)

I’ve definitely…

(Trying to think of how to contextualize the event without being too weird)

Gone through my own weirdness. Which furthers the point that there’s nothing about 1999 for you all to worry about.

(Pauses before some dark brevity)

Though, of course, the classic Mayan apocalypse prediction of 2012…I suppose we’ll have to wait for that one.

(The class laughs awkwardly)

Vivian:

Class dismissed.

The class lets out.

Student 1:

Ms. Nithercot, I wanted to say that I truly appreciate what you said. In a world and year that’s so focused on endings, it’s a true revivification.

(Laughs awkwardly)

At least for me, that probably sounds stupid.

Vivian:

(Warmly taking in the oddness of her week)

Stupid or not, it’s a type of normalcy I’d more than welcome.

(Laughs uncomfortably)

Student:

It may be a leap, but have you ever considered politics?

Vivian laughs hysterically at the notion of having to deal with more strangers besides the small pool of people she’s comfortable with. The student awkwardly recognizes her potential mistake.

Student:

I just…in your single lecture, you’ve made me…less fearful of the future than most of our leaders these days.

Kelly walks through the university hallway, anxiously preparing herself to meet Vivian in person.

Kelly walks down the hall, rehearsing to herself the uncomfortable conversation she’s been thinking about for the last few days while walking onto Vivian’s campus.

Kelly:

Hi, Ms. Nithercott, you don’t…you don’t fully know me, but I…we’ve been very close.

A mysterious member of The Pendulum with long brownish red hair and a beard (wearing a white undershirt and khaki pants) still monitoring the campus approaches Kelly. The Pendulum member raises their hand, waving a white paper-like flag in surrender as Vivian walks past them.

Mysterious Pendulum Member:

(In surrender)

We no longer mean you or Randall harm; you’ve seen what we’ve needed to show. We need to talk about what our friend Randall saw in 2007.

At the same time, a schlubby man in his early 40s with frizzy black hair, wearing a turtleneck shirt with an unusual collar emitting an unusual frequency on their neck, approaches Vivian.

Man:

What’s your New Year’s resolution, Ms.Nithercott

(Smiles sinisterly)

My boss has a big one.

The mysterious Pendulum member and Turtleneck man to Kelly and Vivian simultaneously.

Both:

We need to talk about your future.

Kelly:

Isn’t this more about Randall’s future?

Mysterious Pendulum Member:

We’ve come to understand that Ms. Veronica Nithercott is corrupted by RandAlt. We need your help.

Kelly:

Damn, that’s a good nickname. Why don’t you discuss it with her?

Mysterious Pendulum Member

You understand her in a more…direct way. Better able to potentially connect with her

Kelly:

That’s what I was abou…

(Checks Vivian’s office, finding it empty)

Kelly:

Damn it

(Angrily)

For an organization connected to pendulums, you ass holes suck at timing. Come on.

Kelly runs through the halls with The Pendulum member following them as they both seek out Vivian.

Vivian:

(To the strange turtleneck-wearing man)

…I’m sorry, do I know you?

The turtleneck-wearing man awkwardly assesses their current body, realizing the random disconnect of it.

I’m sorry, I’ve made a mistake. Although I’m sure that we’ll talk very soon.

(Smiles knowingly as they walk away)

Do be sure to think about your future.

The mysterious turtleneck-wearing man slinks into the night, whistling “Deep Inside of You” by Third Eye Blind, confirming they’re a host of RandAlt.

End of issue/episode 5

© August 2026, Copyright by Lawrence Gaines, All Rights Reserved, No Reproduction Without Permission August 10th, 2026

Randall is sitting in front of Kelly, talking to the opening bass line of Feeling Gravity’s Pull, by REM an intrinsic beat is stuck in his mind. He’s wearing a “Fables Of The Reconstruction”, from REM t-shirt. Kelly stares wistfully at the “goofy idiot,” free from the stresses of perfection that constantly overwhelm her.

Throughout the upcoming weeks, P looks inquiringly in a way that’s prideful yet mildly alarmed when looking at Kelly accelerate in her courses.

Cut to her parent-teacher conference in P/Pamela’s Restless Minds office.

P:

(Sternly)

Your daughter is cheating.

Kelly’s father:

Isn’t that why she’s here?

P:

I mean, she…it may not be safe for her to stand out too much in this. Especially with her gifts.

Kelly’s father:

We…

Kelly’s mother:

Appreciate your concern, but

P:

(Sternly taking a deep breath, thinking about Tricia)

I’ve…seen others get…hurt for standing out.

So, she gets bullied in the regular school or worse, and now you’re pushing her out of your “special program”? So what the hell are we supposed to do?

P:

She…

(Pauses)

…We can put her on academic probation and keep her here

(sternly)

But SHE NEEDS TO SLOW DOWN

Kelly is sitting outside of the office, wanting to be good. She worried that it may be too late. She didn’t need to RV as she could already hear the disappointment from Pamela’s office. Being special is all that she’s ever wanted to do. Why couldn’t she excel and live up to her full potential? She wondered anxiously.

The next few months were largely more of the same. However, Kelly couldn’t help but feel a sense of rejection from those at Restless Minds who once lifted her up so much. Throughout that time, she became increasingly jealous of her fellow classmate Randall’s more light hearted nature. Why wasn’t he as plagued by this ever-present need for perfectionism? The banality continued to progress into an ever-growing sense of disappointment and layered shame.

Tear Time, by: Wilma Burgess plays on the radio.

Kelly lays in her bed contemplating the entirity of her heavy semester and potential/probable “end of an era”.

Kelly:

(Having a panic attack)

I just wa…I just need to…

(Projecting into Randall)

I need to be…

Kelly’s brain starts to collapse on itself, only remotely connecting to Randall’s brain in her minds eye. A brain-dead and void Kelly collapses in bed as a first-person beam transfers into a sleeping Randall.

Close up to Kelly, bored and stuck inside of Randall’s brain.

The radio begins to glitch up in tune with Kelly’s shattering psyche. Kelly’s alarm transitions into the alarm ringing at The Locker, resuming from last issue. The alarm sounds of the door to The Locker opening continues as the elevated entrance begins to descend into the heart of the facility.

PA System DJ 1:

Heyo, as the kids say, we’ve got new minds of a new kind

PA System DJ 2:

He’s a psychic, and she’s a pretty fly chick; it’s Pamela and Randall.

Bwam bwam bwam sound goes off.

The guard that Kelly is inhabiting gives Pamela headphones or ear-buds.

Kelly/Guard:

(Partially speaking as herself, partially the guard’s subconscious)

You’ll need these; I wish I had used them. Just write what you need while trying to be natural.

The elevator continues down, reaching the bottom as the trip feels enraptured and entrapped by the enormity of the installation.

Randall:

(Trying to connect with Pamela telepathically only got it to sound like an ethereal radio looking for a signal)

Hopefully

(Broken garbled words coming from an indistinct mental signal)

This

Work .

May

Need

Take one ear piece…

Out
…
if confront…

The elevator stops, and they’re all instantly blasted with a strong hit of artificial oxygen.

Entering The Locker proper, they feel the first bit of a reprieve on this descending journey (even if it was from an artificial oxygenated high)

The people throughout the institution moved with a light, floating nature. The skin on their face and body all looked young over older, layered nerves, looking paradoxically worn and drained yet endlessly rejuvenated. Like their worn older skin is layered with fresh, more vibrant clay instead of allowing it to age naturally. Caked in artifice

A doctor who’s worked with Pamela outside The Locker begins to approach The Four.

Doctor Calvin:

(Blissfully aloof)

Well, this is a surprise. Todd mentioned he was trying to show you around the old locker for years, but you always seemed…trepidatious.

(Unnervingly wistfully)

I’ve never understood…

(Taking a deep breath/hit of oxygenated lightness)

…Why…

(Gives a deeply artificially blissful meets overwhelmingly maniacal laugh)

lt’s always good to see you, Pamela.

Kelly/Guard:

(Interrupting)

She needs to see…

(Searching the guard’s mind for the codenames)

Kelly/Guard:

The “New York bed pans”

Doctor Calvin:

Ooo, we’re going old school today.

(Laughs again)

They’re in the same place they’ve been for years.

Doctor Calvin shows them down the sterile, long, ominous halls of the operating units.

A smiling doctor nearby approaches them with literal blood still on their gloves, which he’s jubilantly indifferent to.

Doctor H:

(Smiling excitedly)

Hello, it’s finally that time, isn’t it wonderful?

Doctor Calvin:

Is…is he ready for them?

(Excitedly)

They tell me that it’s his day, but we’re approaching his time.

(Smiling, blissed out on an “unnatural high”)

His time, his time, bliss is time for his time.

The four try to brush off the unnatural nature of everyone in The Locker.

Pamela:

I’m going to find some info on Restless Minds.

Randall:

I…

Pamela:

(Interrupting Randall with his own logic)

You can’t say that you’re not looking for answers about them too.

Randall:

Be fast; we will be.

Pamela agrees as she heads towards the archives room in The Locker as the other two look for Kelly and Tricia.

Randall and Kelly/Guard find a room of comatose patients connected to The Locker, Restless Minds, and their subsidiaries through various surreal events. Kelly sees her original body and points out Tricia’s.

Kelly, through the guard, touches her own forehead, reconnecting her consciousness into her core body, as Randall does the same with Tricia’s forehead, feeling a sudden jarring, jolt of consciousness expelled from Randall’s hand into Tricia’s brain.

Both of them very slowly but surely begin to connect and awaken. The guard that Kelly is inhabiting becomes unconscious as the guard’s outside stop whistling. That starts to draw their attention to “the bedpan room”.

Meanwhile, as Kelly and Tricia are being connected with their original bodies, Pamela looks through the vending machine with a giant “Fragrant Garden” sponsor on the machine and products therein. Pamela sees a giant nationwide map showing each of the states that goes from color coded to a peculiar “code of arms” when the mouse hovers over it.

(California is a snake in a tree, Hawaii has a large x over it with a frowning face (labeled incompatible, New York City is a giant hellish stalactite chiseled into a skyscraper, Mississippi’s is a gavel with the hilt shaped like a sword with a dragon behind, Texas is a skull in a vat of oil)

She sees a video on the bottom of the screen labeled “Introduction to Code: 999”.

Clicking the video shows a PSA featuring The Soundtrinket Music News jingle (and logo in the corner)

THORN, CEO:

(Smiling, giving a warm yet excited PSA)

World wars,

Toppling regimes,

And everything in between

The world sure is pretty.

(Clears throat)

Pardon my French,

(Clearing his throat about to be…saucy)

Damn

(Returning to conversational normalcy)

Complicated, isn’t it? …Well, what if it wasn’t?

That’s the higher goal of our grander purpose.

Rejoice in this year of 1999 as he is coming.

It’s time for something new; that’s the ultimate goal of Restless Minds and our subsidiaries

(Smiling jubilantly)

With help from the lower one, we can all be elevated into a higher future,

When the ball drops, he will be activated into a specifically chosen, programmed member of Restless Minds or our otherwise named landlocked national programs.

(Laughs awkwardly)

I would say…someone new, but I doubt anyone is that formal with them. They are here, and they are ready. To reignite a flame long gone out in a broken and cynical world.

“The Song Of The Hour” begins with loud chamber like tones as the clocks strike 6, feeling like the sound itself is compressing the building into an unnerving tube of sound, fully controlled by a mysterious sound system.

(In an unearthly yet ethereal choir)

To be one with all the lightness,

To bear his greatest fruits,

To be treated in his garden,

He is there for me and you.

He is in everything we say and do

He is in me,

He will be in you,

Once he’s awake,

Then you’ll be dead

Programs and coding,

He’ll end up owning

Their world

Randall and Kelly (having been reconnected to her physical body while Tricia is still trying to fully wake up) while being unnerved by the song filling The Locker.

Randall and Kelly:

(Simultaneously)

F*** this noise

P uses the computer, searching through projects, finally feeling a freedom she never knew if she’d get another chance as she sees a map of the whole landlocked United States, states connected to see different sections of The Locker underneath a majority of them. Each state has a label of a percentage of success. Each state has a percentage to fruition, as if they were searching or waiting for…something.

The song Night on Bald Mountain starts as it eerily mounts up in tune to an ascending crescendo as Pamela is overwhelmed by a staggering realization as Randall and the gang interrupt her running down the hall.

Randall:

(Rapidly)

Come on, if you’re coming, we’ve gotta get our ass outta here.

P looks and sees a countdown to the New Year’s Eve “activation” code program as she takes off running with The Quatro.

They run through the facility as they get to a garage with “supercarts” (souped up custom golf carts with giant NOS connected engines. They turn on their cart as Miss America, by: David Byrne, begins to play on the “supercart” as the “Qualified Quatro” activates the NOS in their cart number 8, reeling down the open “Cartobaun” (complete with nine mm pistols in pouches on each side of their cart).

Pamela unloads 3 rounds of her nine into the gate lock for the “Cartobaun” opening the door to the fast-paced golf cart superhighway. Three other souped-up NOS-powered golf carts with armed enforcers follow suit.

Proto versions of weaponized drones exit through vents in the ceiling, chasing The Quatro. Pamela drives as Randall grabs a desert eagle and starts to open fire on the drones. They take down two of three drones.

Kelly and Tricia are still trying to physically return to their physical bodies. Pamela intermittently gives them a shock to their heart with her taser. She begins to have a slight reprieve. Her arms and legs start to twitch with renewed vitality and energy.

Kelly:

(Woozy trying to reorient)

…Gun

Still unable to get up fully Kelly woozily aims the pistol at a fire extinguisher, covering the drone’s cameras in foam. Kelly grabs a taser to rejuvenate her heart and speed up her physical awakening as she grunts in pain from using her muscles for the first time in years.

Kelly:

(Anxiously)

We got adrenaline in here for Sleeping Beauty?

Kelly holds her hands on Tricia’s brain, trying to focus on her mental electric current to try to realign her mental and physical neural pathways to normalize her wakeup recovery/stabilization.

Randall fires at the chasing super carts, trying to hit their wheels to slow them down. In between, Randall checks through the carts’ glove box to look for anything that can help balance out…huh, an adrenaline shot. They really are prepared for everything.

Randall gives Kelly the adrenaline shot as she focuses her psychic ability to steady her arm as she pushes the adrenaline into her heart as she fully awakens. A drone shot blasts a mirror out, going clear through nicking Randall’s elbow causing him to drop his pistol.

Randall digs into the glovebox to find a bandage to wrap themselves up before he can bleed out. Kelly closes her eyes and focuses on one of the guards fast approaching them, causing them to rush into another speeding cart, flipping both of them.

A loud bellowing noise is starting to ramp up to…something. The cart road begins to heat up with an expansive flame exiting the vents around them as though the devil themselves was breathing. The flames bellow all over from the sides and rear; Tricia (while still tasering a current to her heart with one hand) tries to force herself to sit up.

She takes Kelly’s lead, shooting at as many of the above sprinklers and extinguishers she can find as they accelerate like a literal bat out of hell, speeding through flames there barely protected from. They see an exit for Camelot, MI. Desperate for safety, they take the exit, running to get out of the cart while getting to the walking ramp.

The drones and fellow guards follow suit, desperately trying to silence the 1999 conspiracy.” Kelly taps “Shave and A Haircut” on her leg with each leg tap causing a sudden quick draw (controlling just the hands) head shot of three guards to off the other as Kelly tries getting her feet to work.

They see a giant exit for Camelot, Mississippi, arriving at an elevator which they exhaustedly stumble into as the doors finally mercifully close.

Randall:

(Woozily)

God da…

(After the recent reality he was living through decides not to chance blasphemy today)

PA System DJ 1:

Well, they’re on their way out, whatever they wound up.

PA System DJ 2:

Good luck out there, and we’ll be playing all of eternity’s hits for you here. Getting this close to the end is making us nostalgic for a little dirty from our first year here.

PA System DJ 1:

Who needs sleep or time when you have tracks this fine, from 1944 it’s: “Swinging On A Star”, by Bing Crosby.

The song begins to fade as the four are in the very long elevator ride heading up. Kelly is standing up, trying to get used to walking on her own feet again. Tricia is sitting in the corner of the elevator, still taking everything in.

Tricia:

(Breaking the silence

This is a hell of a reunion.

Kelly:

A regular center of gravity is a hell of a thing to adjust to.

P:

Hell, that seems to be what’s coming. Crazy bastards apparently have an…” Antichrist Code” to activate the “right” apparently student during New Year’s Eve 1999.

Tricia:

…Yeah…that

Randall:

So…

P:

What do we do now?

Randall:

How do we fight a Digital Antichrist? Are they the devil anymore?

(Contemplating speculatively)

Or are they something more…advanced

P:

The heck are you looking at me for?

Tricia:

(Angrily)

Take one damn guess

P:

You’re blaming me for the literal devil.

Tricia:

(Angrily)

You worked with them and sold me out; why not sell your own soul?

Kelly:

(Mildly defensively)

She tried with me

Tricia:

(Laughs mildly)

…Tried…

(Laughs more at the half-committed indifference)

A ringing endorsement. Hell, you invade minds; for all we know, you’re the damn antichrist vessel waiting to be activated.

P:

Look

(Takes a deep breath)

We’re alive, right?

(Laughs anxiously)

We got outta damn near hell, which isn’t nothing.

Randall:

One supposes

Tricia:

(Dryly)

Ringing endorsement

Randall:

(Half-heartedly defensively)

I guess someone’s gotta be the middle.

Tricia:

Do they?

Kelly:

(Sternly)

She got us out, right?

Tricia:

(Sighs)

So far

Randall:

So, what’s our next move?

P:

This is all uncharted territory to me, if for whatever reason, they haven’t changed my access, I can get you back into Restless Minds, but this is a whole new world for me.

Tricia:

Never felt so active yet exhausted in my whole life. Seventeen damn years gone, the world’s gonna be a trip.

(Laughing to herself)

No more tape decks; I’ll have to update my collection.

Kelly:

(Anxiously)

I hope that my parents are ok. I…probably “left” fairly suddenly eight years ago if they’re…

P:

(Reassuringly)

They’re alive

Tricia:

(Dryly, making her jealous)

Lucky you

(Nudging Randall)

What about you?

Randall:

I…

(The elevator doors open into a university)

(The elevator’s lower buttons are hidden by a sliding metal sheet blending the lab buttons into the elevator’s metal sheeting)

University PA:

Randall, Tricia, Pamela, and Kelly, Professor Merlin will see you now.

They all look exhausted and befuddled at the very odd day they’ve had.

Int.: Headmaster Merlin B, a man in his late mid 40’s-early 50’s with a long white beard and long dreadlocks, wearing a Soundtrinket Music News T-shirt with a dark, hypnotic blue, thick, and very comfy hotel bathrobe is seen deleting an email from “The Boss” labeled “They’re Here”. He takes a deep breath, having prepared for this moment for decades.

Merlin laughs knowingly, watching video footage of the four from their elevator ride up.

Merlin puts the needle on his vinyl player as At The River, By Groove Armada begins to play. A photograph at The Court: Bar and Grill of his fellow “Knights and Nots” sits on his desk. He takes an ancient parchment paper from his desk, rolling a j with it as he sits down, waiting for “The Day”

The door finally opens to the four entering the room.

Merlin:

(Smiling welcomingly)

Hi kids

The Quatro, further befuddled by this already very overwhelming.

Merlin offers them coffee.

Merlin:

How are things going “down under” today?

The Quatro are still befuddled, not saying anything, taking in the layers of weirdness.

Merlin:

We had an “earthquake alert” up here today. I presume that was “You Crazy Kids”.

(Reassuringly)

I know you big city folks aren’t as used to our southern hospitality, but..

(Notions to the couch by the door)

Please, sit

(Laughs pointing to the elevator footage)

Merlin:

I was just watching your little “soap opera”. It was very high drama.

Randall:

(Dry sarcasm)

Well, you know the whole Digital Antichrist thing.

Merlin drums a “badum bump” on his desk, not taking any of it as seriously as the four are.

Merlin smiling

Merlin:

Still hitting those punchlines.

P:

…And you are?

Merlin

(Tisking at P)

Pamela, Pamela, Pamela, I’m SO disappointed in you. YOU of the four don’t know who I am?

(Merlin gives a pouty face of disappointment)

Merlin:

Restless Minds education has really gone downhill for the teachers.

Merlin:

(To Randall)

What about you, Dangerfield? Any guesses?

Randall:

(Looks at his desk, seeing the B.)

You’re not….

Merlin:

(Sees Randall’s mental gears turning)

Warmer

Pamela:

Son of a bitch, you’re not…

Merlin:

(Excitedly)

Baby, you’re so hot you’re sizzling like

(Pausing as if waiting for Pamela’s cue)

Pamela:

Bacon?

(A mix of dubiousness and surprise)

YOU’RE Roger Bacon!

Merlin:

(Smiling mischievously)

I’m A Bacon,

(Teasing)

Up to you to decide if I’m original real deal pork or…just a turkey

Kelly:

What about….

Merlin:

(Interrupting Kelly excitedly)

You’re my action hero.

(Mildly rescinding his excitement)

Well, not MY action hero; I’ve already got a Sherlock Holmes type locally. Kicking a** and taking names, a regular local “Prince Valiant”. But you’re pretty damn cool.

Tricia:

(Sarcastically)

Who am I? The music journalist that saves the world?

Merlin:

(Sarcastically)

Who am I? The guy with all the answers?

(Gives a long pause)

I

(Dramatic pause)

…Like your tastes

Tricia:

(Disappointed)

That’s all?

Merlin:

(Annoyed)

I’m not a wizard, you know?

Randall:

Do we?

Merlin gives a shrug.

Merlin:

(Plainly)

I’m just a scientist.

Kelly:

(Gives an ahem and notions to his desk plate stating Headmaster)

Merlin:

Double jobs will be much more common in the future.

Pamela,

(Gives another ahem knowingly)

Merlin:

Something going around?

(Getting to the point)

Look, anti-Christ schmanty-Christ, you’re a team of super…or at least very interesting people with….

(Checks the calendar showing it’s currently July)

Merlin:

Enough time…

(Laughs)

What the hell am I even talking about with deadlines?

(Laughs warmly)

You’re time travelers; between the four of you, the bridges of time are to you what a comfy plane ride is to most.

Merlin presses a button, and his remote-controlled record player swaps as the needle flips as if changing from transmitting music to receiving it as I Am The Highway, by: Audioslave begins to play (three years before it was initially recorded)

Merlin:

(Smiles knowingly)

Now that you’re nearing the end, you need to go to the beginning. You’ll find your answers way before you have your questions. You should have enough to start now, and I have many more local adventures. Do be sure to check your mail. I may see you later.

(Smiling again)

Or perhaps I’ll see you sooner.

(Merlin presses his comm button)

Merlin:

(Shoeing The Quatro out)

I’m ready for Mordy now.

(To the four)

You’ll find your car is in the staff parking lot professor Cardoba.

Merlin throws Tricia her car’s keys and teacher’s parking pass voucher.

Merlin:

(Smiles knowingly)

Best of luck to you, Professor Cardoba.

The Quatro embarked from the garage in Tricia’s new/old 1997 Honda Accord.

Pamela:

(Teasingly)

Welcome to the educational club, “professor”

Randall:

So…what’s our first move?

Tricia:

Our?

Pamela:

I guess we’re “an our” now…?

Kelly:

With caveats apparently.

Tricia:

(Still annoyed at working with the woman partially responsible for her years lost)

Chess-master b*** needs to do more than.

Kelly

(Defensively)

She didn’t HAVE to take you out of the coma.

Pamela:

F*** it

Pamela throws her cell phone out of the car window.

Pamela:

Three hundred-dollar damn phone gone

(Angrily)

Oh, thank you for the generous sacrifice of your phone, friends, AND CAREER so that we’ve had our damn beauty rest.

(Frustrated under her breath)

Not like I haven’t been regretting and worrying and trying to make right for SEVENTEEN f***ing years. Do you want me to burn down my f***ing condo for you too? Or kick my dog that I’m abandoning for you?

Tricia:

(Under her breath)

Must takes a b*** to raise one

Pamela:

(Defensively)

Don’t think I haven’t learned a thing or f***ing two from Todd about putting ungrateful ass b***s back in comas.

Randall:

(Angrily stressing the obvious)

Christ, fucking Antichrist to stop here. F*** me, f,***ing priorities.

Long quietude

Kelly:

(Excitedly breaking the awkward tension)

…Does anybody want a burger?

Tricia:

Holy s*** yes, all of the burgers my lord I’m still tasting the sludge they fed into me.

Upon picking up burgers at “Blissful Bites Burgers,” they’re presented with the next obstacle.

Randall:

So, where to next?

Tricia:

Man, I feel that I could sleep for days and run a mile at once. Gotta use these damn legs again.

Pamela:

I could get us a decent hotel room.

Tricia looks at Kelly suggestively.

Pamela:

With a little help

Kelly:

Better than a motel, I suppose. After a damn near metallic cheap ass mattress, I could use a decent sleep.

Randall:

There’s a gas station ahead. We can find maps to a hotel there.

As everyone else goes into the gas station, Tricia checks the glove box and finds a tape with a rubber band and a note with “play this in private, but please play this” written in red lipstick. It’s wrapped around a small Dictaphone.

She begins to play it as the rest of the group are in the gas station. Contemplatively taking in a new mystery with a further rush of emotions. The tape is unheard, but she pauses it as the rest of the group arrives.

Randall:

(To Tricia)

Are you ok?

Tricia:

Yeah, totally. What are the lodging situations?

Pamela:

Adam’s Garden resort

Tricia:

We are thematic today.

Kelly:

(Smiling excitedly)

They have beds that massage you

Pamela:

And finally some decent Internet

Tricia:

That’s gonna be something to adjust to

Randall:

(To Tricia)

What’s life like outta my noggin?

(Teasingly)

Boring beyond belief

Tricia:

(Still taking in what she heard on the tape while trying to downplay hearing anything)

(Chuckles somewhat anxiously)

It’s a new adventure.

Pamela:

Time to get to another page then

Kelly:

(Teasingly)

That sounded a whole lot cooler in your head, didn’t it?

Pamela;

I can’t say it wasn’t the main thing I was thinking of in the shop.

The four get situated in the car as Steal The Crumbs, by: Uncle Tupelo, begins to play on the radio. Its reservedly gallant strumming echoed throughout the car and throughout the night. The overwhelming thoughts of the passengers as they are heading towards and from parts progressively unknown. Fates simultaneously already decided, yet there’s for the taking.

End of issue/episode 4

© August 2026, Copyright by Lawrence Gaines, All Rights Reserved, No Reproduction Without Permission August 5th, 2026

Randall:

Son of a bitch, I could use a damn aspirin.

P gets Randall water, which he chugs before liquid vomiting (no acidity, pure stomach water and gunk).

Randall:

Good God, that was

Randall pounds more water, crawling out of The Tune, woozy and half-conscious, barely balancing himself but needing to get up.

General Todd wheels an office chair for him to sit on while P gives him more water.

Randall:

Ice

P gets him frozen peas for his forehead.

Randall:

I’m the first dumbass to try this, huh?

General Todd

(Under his breath)

That we know of

Randall:

(Sarcastically)

…wonder why..?

P

(Reassuringly)

To be fair, Bacon theorized it to be like a muscle, improving with use.

Randall:

(Woozy)

Won’t be…again…soon

Randall nods off again, waking up in a very formal and clinical governmental/institutional looking ethereal classroom. The walls are flat and white, yet oddly translucent in matter.

Tricia enters the classroom dressed in P’s most recent “We Lift The World” outfit.

Tricia:

(Disappointed)

Fashion has really gone downhill since my time, I would have gotten so much s*** for dressing this casually back in the day. .

Tricia taps on Randall’s back.

Tricia:

How’s it going, junior?

(Tricia teasingly)

Ooo, Junior’s all growdsed up now. This is hurting MY non-physical brain. I can’t imagine what it’s doing to your melon.

Randall:

…What the hell…?

Tricia:

Sorry about the whole “The Being” thing earlier. Blame your weird brain.

Randall:

Oh God

Tricia:

(Contemplatively)

Ooo, that’s an interesting concept. Are you my afterlife?

Randall:

(Unnerved)

Shut up demon

Tricia:

(Depressed)

Fine, I’ll go as far away as I can, but neither of us are the reason I’m here. Enjoy the smiley patrol or whatever her name is.

Randall:

I just

Tricia:

I know the same pop culture that you do,

(Hitting pop culture points Randall may understand)

I was an undefined “spooky scary shadow being”; must be evil, right? Or I somehow have some long-term gain besides…

(looking around).

Whatever the hell this is?

Randall:

(Trying to process these developments)

Uh…

Tricia:

I only didn’t have a form before because you hadn’t formally met me. Or were repressing me because, sure, I was kind of a b**** with the sudden “family vacation in ‘82” bit, but you got up in me deeper than my ex’s. Your fear of me/The Being came from our admittedly horrible first impression.

(Asking anxiously)

...So we’re at least even?

(Looking at Randall inquiringly)

Tricia:

If one day you were suddenly Pinocchio but knew your Geppetto, you wouldn’t be driven in multiple ways to get answers?

Randall takes the longest pause of his life.

Tricia and Randall

(At the same time):

f*** off, you’re right, but f***

(Sighs)

This is a lot to process.

Tricia:

(Tisking)

You and your potty mouth

Randall:

So what did you do to the girl?

Tricia:

The girl

(Laughs)

Boy, all of the whirlwind romances, Romeo and Juliet, Endless Love, Randall and…The Girl

Randall:

What the hell is Endless Love?

Tricia:

(Sudden realization)

Ah f*** I am old aren’t I?

It’s been f***ing lonely in here is all. I don’t know where “what’s her face” is; she seems to be more free than I am. Calling me a cliche, though she fits that mold more.

Tricia:

(Sighs)

F*** I’ve been so f***ing bored. You and your “ooo, should I talk to Stacy, ooo Stacy is cute. Stacy, Stacy, Stacy”

(Mock vomits)

To say nothing of your dirtier thoughts, I’m just glad I’m clothed right now. F*** I hate knowing that I’m your physical type

(Mildly relieved)

At least my hair is still good in here. Good God, I’d love yet hate to see…

Randall:

Yourself

ricia:

Bingo, see what lore that you’re worried about can say the same? I’m the one approaching retirement age.

(Smiles)

But with a permanent Tanya Roberts ass, I’ll take a silver lining where I can.

(Sighs, looking for silver linings where she can)

Your music taste after my time isn’t the worst either. It’s good to have normal band names again.

Randall:

So…what the hell are we gonna do now?

Tricia:

I’ll tell you what you’re NOT gonna do, mention s*** about this to Pamela. Spoilers that’s P’s apparent real first name. Or an alias she seems keen on. That’s how this s*** started for me.

Randall:

I’m a pawn to their system.

Tricia:

You majorly underrated yourself...oh God, I’m becoming the mentor or supportive best friend turned romantic confidant role. F*** me, we watch too many movies.

(Sighs)

Why couldn’t I have gotten stuck in somebody cooler’s brain?

Randall:

So…if they task me with another trip with The Tune…

Trisha:

How do we avoid another me?

Randall:

My noggin can probably take only so many visitors? Then I’m no use to either of us.

Tricia:

I’ve been thinking about that; the biggest questions I had were who and what all of this was about.

Randall:

(Dryly)

And that played out so well for both of us.

Tricia

(Awkward pause)

Valid. If we met the same year or within a year, would you be ready? Also f*** them if Restless Minds doesn’t have a customer complaint service you should or could sure as hell be that right?

Randall:

Isn’t us having this conversation now proof that this is inevitable? This is only going to play out one way, ri…

(Randall’s alarm clock rings, waking him up)

(Randall wakes up in his dorm room alone)

Randall:

Damn it.

Normalcy at least, Randall thought. The whole experience made him glad to be in his initially cramped dorm room. Still, the small dorm was rather roomy compared to the cramped nature of Tricia’s rather smaller frame.

He stretched like he never had before, finally using his own legs. He was thankful he had this opportunity that was robbed from Tricia. The things one takes for granted. F***it, I’m still tired. Randall nodded back off, feeling a respite from Tricia, yet something else.

It was something with mystique but much less darkness than it was. Anxiously, Randall nodded off with a building anxiety that his waking world may now be scarier than his dream life. Randall woke up the next day at almost noon. Randall couldn’t help but give a slight chuckle.

What was time to him now anyway? Playing his answering machine seemed the most grounding thing he could think of. P (or is it Pamela now?) and General Todd thankfully gave him the day off, but he received a more odd call. His history professor, Vivian Nithercot, called asking if he could see him in her office.

Vivian Nithercot:

‘Ello

(Sounding odd)

Randall, I know that the school year is over, but could you please give me a gander in my office today? I’ll understand if you’ve been a right bit mardy of late, but you’d be less of a numpty if we met.

Randall

(Unable to stop himself from thinking aloud)

What the hell?

His professor Vivian had always been one of his favorites to learn from, with her seven years older and with a Gerri Halliwell meets Justine Frischmann look and energy, though she was British, but she had yet to be so…. English English.

Randall waited outside of Vivian’s office, giving her a knock. As soon as he did, Vivian looked oddly ecstatic to see him.

Vivian

(To the student currently in her office)

Randall’s more important than you; you’ll have to go. I haven’t seen him in forever.

Randall’s classmate looked at Vivian, befuddled, given they’d all seen each other during last week’s class.

Vivian

(Rushing the student to the door)

Out, out, out

(Trying and failing to think of an excuse for her excitement to see her C-grade student vs the current student’s A-tier grades)

Vivian:

He’s on a super secret honor roll, and we need to…talk.

Vivian pushed the other student out of her office.

Vivian gives Randall an oddly wide smile, excitedly welcoming him in. She unusually seems to have swapped her Bach, Wagner, and “midday Mozart” for Soundgarden. It seemed like Cornell’s contemplative lyrics may have put her in an especially introspective state.

Vivian immediately breaks student/teacher conduct and gives him a giant, warm hug.

Vivian:

(Smiling excitedly)

Dude, it’s been forever.

Randall

(Taking in the weirdness that has been this year)

…Dream song girl…?

Vivian(?)

You’ve SERIOUSLY forgotten my name? What the hell, man? I was THE teacher’s pet at RM, and I’ve been stuck in yours.

Randall:

…The Everly Sister? The Dirty Blond-Haired Woman?

Vivian

(Laughs)

Flattering

(More seriously)

But..blimey I’ll take it. Ohh blimey, oh, and smashing that’s new too.

(Being teasingly British)

‘ello ello

Points to Vivian’s WWI bugle replica.

Vivian:

(Smiling)

You have no clue how much I desperately have been wanting to Cyndi Lauper on that all day.

Randall

(Still catching up)

I’m sorry I’m just not used to…you…being so…

(sees 3 opened cans of soda)

Much

Vivian:

Sorry, sorry, sorry, just…something about your recent time in The Tune seemed to wake us up more fully.

Randall:

…Huh

Vivian:

…So

Randall clears his throat awkwardly, having an idea of why Vivian Moore was stuck in this position.

Randall:

…Vivian is..,

Vivian:

On her nap time anyway, SO MANY STUDENTS TODAY

(Gives a mocking snore)

I’ve been good and in the background, letting her be her, but we NEED to talk.

Randall:

About the Tricia stuff?

Vivian:

About the Tricia stuff, she’s…interesting for a grown-up.

Randall clears his throat, notioning that Vivian was a decade older than him (thus her)

Vivian:

…Right, well you’re the one who couldn’t stop getting tangled and spangled for her, so I’m…gormless for why you’re suddenly so put off by this. How I got here in the first place, that

(Clears throat)

“Emotion notion” towards her seemed like a bridge to here and her.

(Sighs)

And my over zealousness at Restless Minds may have been how I got here. Or in your noggin until The Tune. I think the physical me may be comatose.

Vivian slumps down into a depressive stare. I do…I forgot I missed things and people. Sometimes I smell ammonia and gauze randomly, so I think I’m in a lab.

Vivian takes a deep sigh as she shrinks despite the enormity of the state of her body. Can …I wish there was…a more...a less crazy way I could talk to my parents. Being nowhere and no one you can forget being…someone.

Vivian

(Laughing)

Of course being inside a professor specializing in Greek myths doesn’t help the Prometheus metaphor hit like a damn hammer.

Randall feels awkward wanting to comfort who he vaguely knew her as yet, feeling odd comforting his until today conservatively authoritative professor.

Randall:

I’m…

Vivian:

(Interrupting him)

Don’t say sorry

(Sighs)

Even then I wanted to be more; I just…

(Laughs anxiously)

F***ing bloody Prometheus.

(Gives a long pause)

“Vivian” extends their hand to him.

Vivian/Kelly

My name is Kelly; it’s nice to formally meet you again. As it were. Tricia and I have a potential new mission for you that may help others like us. And uncomplicate things for you.

Vivian:

But I think my time in her is through. It’d be especially odd and probably a conflict of interest if we kept up a relationship post student teacher.

Vivian sits deep into her chair, getting deeply comfy.

Vivian/Kelly:

We can talk more when I’m in there.

(Points to Randall’s noggin)

Or if I’m someone else, I’ll

(Smiles cheekily)

Whistle something witty; I’ve really enjoyed jamming to this Soundgarden group. We’re during her nap time in between Vivian meeting students, so I’m doing both for her.

(Kelly puts Vivian’s hands to Randall’s brain)

Kelly/Vivian:

Nighty night

Randall feels a surge of energy as he gets a momentary “brain freeze” with Kelly re-entering his brain.

Randall:

(Under his breath)

Guh

Feeling uncomfortably voyeuristic, Randall leaves Vivian’s office, closing the door to let her sleep in peace.

Throughout the day, Randall was feeling a profound new sense of…depth. He’s never been one for an ego, yet now. What and when could and/or would he impa…

“Randall?”

A voice asked

Randall anxiously looked around without trying to look inquiring.

“Randall, Randall, Randall?”

The voice asked more playfully in a condescending tone.

Randall tried to become one with the crowd.

The figure approaching Randall was revealed to be a man in their late 20’s with a beard and a “professorly “ look (complete with a turtleneck, khaki pants, and a backpack.

Man taps on their shoulder to try to reach a radio.

Man:

Blue shirt, blue jeans

(Looks at Randall as Randall starts to run)

Randall runs down the hallway as the bearded mysterious man follows suit. They both run down the hallway while trying to look.

Randall knew that someone had turd-flooded the bathroom about a week ago and was hoping plumbing was at its usual speed.

The bearded man reached for their boot to get their gun as Randall approached the bathroom.

Yes, he thought excitedly; he’d never been so glad to see a closed-up bathroom.

Randall slid under the safety tape.

The smell hit him instantly: a whole university’s worth of backlog…backlogs.

The nausea was almost overwhelming as Randall grabbed the safety stand, bashing the armed recon agent in the face with it as they entered the bathroom.

The recon agent dropped their gun in surprise.

Randall

(Nauseously while holding the gun to the agent hiding in the bathroom)

Who

Urp

Are…you?

(The putrid smells are putting his brain into the opposite of a high)

Recon Man:

I am what you have rot.

(Nauseously)

“The Pendulum” swings

Man:

(Chomps a cyanide tooth) Better than…the…smell

Randall runs out of the bathroom while trying to remain under the radar in the crowd.

s***

Having seen enough movies not to go to his dorm, Randall anxiously stopped in the park to assess what the hell his next move (or lack thereof may be).

Kelly:

(In Randall’s mind)

…So?

Randall

(Mentally)

You saw what I went through. They seem far from over chasing me. Something about a Pendulum

Randall sighs as his pager rings.

It has a message from P:

TLk NW

Tricia:

Of course she’s all too willing to “help out”

Kelly:

Ruling out anywhere Restless Minds would look, there’s one place they never would.

Randall sternly turns down the remotest notion of a repeat of just several hours earlier.

Kelly:

(Sternly)

You just had a gun to your head.

Randall:

And what? Now I should put it to someone else’s? You’re vile

Tricia:

What’s your alternative? Trusting those who put us both in this position not to do worse?

A man with a hat walks by, checking a picture while using a walkie talkie with a man standing at the top of the building.

Randall:

(Unnerved under his breath)

From one toilet to the next, flushing the putrid all over me…. I don’t know what to say.

Kelly:

(Half-heartedly and unnerved)

…Check your pager for the address

The smell of ammonia pervades through the darkness with an unusual different size and shape.

“Can’t move,” he thinks desperately, his whole body feeling tingly, piney static energy constantly throughout his body. He can’t even open his eyes though something feels oddly…familiar about this.

Doctor One:

I…never thought I’d ask this at work, but …

Doctor Two

…Why aren’t we singing?

The constant feeling of nothingness was surreal to him. Even in his transitionary stare while using The Tune, Randall had always keyed into what senses he was absent from, yet now he felt trapped in a clingwrap of nothingness. Suffocating on nothingness

He awoke in Vivian’s guest bedroom, having been picked up by her through Kelly, as he had woozily passed out after the fight with the recon guy (and general anxiety throughout the day).

The sound of wailing levels of crying wakes Randall up, anxiously wandering to the master bedroom. The door is locked as the wailing continues, an almost ghostly sound coming from the bedroom.

Vivian/Kelly:

I know that you’re there just f*** off. The wailing inside the bedroom continues.

Randall:

I…don’t fully get it, but you’re still alive.

Vivian:

f*** you, I know where I am and now what I am. A half who steals the whole.

Randall:

(Anxiously)

They’ve…made…made me not worse and

I think I connected with your corporeal body.

Kelly:

Don’t give me false hope.

Randall:

I think I am starting to…

Vivian/Kelly:

What?

Randall:

I don’t want you to say the name at least yet, but do…was there a song that we used to sing at Restless Minds?

Vivian/Kelly:

(Snot-filled from ugly crying, still blubbering, horrified by her current existence or lack thereof)

Maybe

Randall begins to sing the opening line of “Patience” by Guns N Roses.

Vivian/Kelly sings the next lyrics.

Back and forth lyrically.

Vivian/Kelly opens the door, and they start to dance, still spaced apart so as not to get into each other’s physical space. Both feeling mutually connected and complicit in ways they never had before.

Vivian/Kelly and Randall together:

God this is f***ed,

Vivian/Kelly was still in tears over her existence being a concession to everyone else’s, yet how she missed feeling anything/everything but not wanting to supersede anyone else’s.

Closing their eyes as he spun her to a song that made them feel, if not alive, like the liveliest of the dead

Opening her eyes again, the never-ending nightmare returned. She was in Vivian’s house; they were both invaders to everyone, yet home to the other. She couldn’t stand to look at Randall because she wasn’t looking at Randall but through Vivian, feeling lost and found in his eyes. She wanted this all her life but never like this.

Both felt hollow and empty inside in various levels, like flesh like parade balloons in human shapes, with the levels of disparity both had sunk into throughout the past few days. Was this life hell? Both of them wondered but couldn’t face the question with the other. If either could read the other’s mind in this moment, they’d find their only comfort being on that same fiery level, not alone.

“Trash” (acoustic version) by Suede plays on the radio; Kelly’s borrowed head is lying on Randall’s shoulder. Both of them wondered what they had become. Were they still the humans they started as? Or just …” wrappers with personality”? Someone had died today, but they had felt dead for years.

Vivian/Kelly:

So

(Laughs dryly)

What the f*** do we do now? I’m or my actual body is alive, apparently, but where does that get us?

Both slump down on the floor.

Vivian/Kelly:

God, I wish I could get drunk.

Randall:

f***in a, so Promethea, what the f*** happened to you?

Vivian/Kelly:

I don’t know. I hoped that you had some idea for me to meet me? Did you remember the smell and sound? Maybe I connect through whatever senses the real me is connected to?

(Sighs)

That damn ammonia keeps me up.

Randall:

Who do you think would have access to you? Restless Minds? Or whoever these Pendulum a** holes are?

Vivian/Kelly:

(Reservedly depressed)

P probably; I can’t think of anyone else as much as I’d rather think of anyone else for this.

Will I be whole when I am/she is Randall and Kelly both wondered. How much can the self grow outside of one’s being? And what happens when they’re shoved back in? “Do either of us have a yesterday or tomorrow?”

Or are we both stuck with taking those from others? They both needed sleep; they both needed to think, but whose thoughts? Who or what was she thinking of? Who or what were either of their thoughts?

Lost in thought, they both nod off listening to “These Dreams” by Heart. Both fell asleep apart on the floor. Thinking of who they were, will be, and where they were going as sleep came for them.

Randal woke up anxiously worried about who would wake and that he was worse for the worrying. They had both been wading through the same bog of sludge throughout the week and knew the only way out may be through.

Randall:

I’m going to call in P; if worst comes to worst, can “you” take me in? You get me in there, I get you in, you?

Vivian:

(Teasing flirtatiously)

You’re cu…

Vivian sees the awkward nature of the situation.

Vivian/Kelly

(Embarrassed beyond belief)

I’m sorry, stupid dance.

(Feeling depressed, restricted, and stuck

So…can I talk to her?

Randall:

(Surprised

You’ve done full-circle

Kelly:

I HAVEN’T

(Sighs, thinking out her madness)

(Annoyed,)

F*** this is f***ed

(Depressed again)

I just…how can I talk to anyone and

(Notions to their borrowed body)

I BE THE ONE THEY’RE TALKING TO?

I hate her, but

(Feeling the same quicksand)

You know her

Vivian

I…

(Swallows anxiously)

Hope that I do

Cut to:

Randall is at a payphone.

Randall:

I got your message

P:

(Mildly annoyed)

Took you long enough. Are you ok?

Randall

Not really. I think I’m being pursued; our investigations seemed to be drawing unwanted attention.

P:

From who?

Randall:

I’ll tell you in person. I need to be brought in somewhere more secure.

P:

I’ll…

Randall:

And no, Todd, if there is someone behind this on the inside, I’d rather complicate this as little as possible.

P:

I’ll…

Randall:

(Sternly/assertively)

If you want my brain connection, I need definitives.

P:

You know that’s impossible for me.

Randall:

It’ll be more impossible when I’m dead. Why complicate something already complicated?

P:

I

Randall:

If I see anyone besides you, you won’t see me. Potentially ever again and that’ll be very…impractical for both of us.

P:

Fine

Instrumental version of This Is Hardcore, by Pulp begins playing.

P:

I know where I can take you to be safe.

Cut to P arriving to pick up Randall, taking them to The Locker. Entering the secured facility from the parking garage of an innocuous office building into a hidden walled in entrance.

The song continues as the Dreamy Duo dive into the Dungeness depths of The Locker. Anxiously, Randall touches a guard’s hand as Kelly inhabits them. Ensuring some level of safety. The chill of the cool, conditioned air and fears of what await pervade through Randall’s body.

The elevator continues to delve into the dark, post modern, high-tech, and clinical, cavernous depths of The Locker.

The end of issue/episode 3

© July 2026, Copyright by Lawrence Gaines, All Rights Reserved, No Reproduction Without Permission July 30th, 2026

Autonomy seemed to be different since ”that night”. The days of her wearing fitting hip-length short skirts and leather jackets and jubilant smiles are long gone. Her current daily attire is now a loose-fitting graphic T-shirt from work, one size (or more than she’d care to admit) too big, with sweatpants. Taking deep breaths, trying to get back to the world she knew.

“The f*** is wrong with me?” she pondered somewhat rhetorically. She should be happy again, having finally climbed to THE music hub of the 1980s, but any day (especially in the summer) felt like a “tragiversary”. Time for a “Mac Snack,” she thought excitedly, popping the tape “Mirage”, by Fleetwood Mac into her tape player.

The opening track, Love In Store, may as well have been a Tibetan monk chant, given the energy she needed to blast away the ghosts of 1980. Tapping in tune kept her here; “thank the universe,” she thought, clearing her mind. The tape serenades her through the commute of trains to her dream job.

A receptionist named Jan at the desk, wearing a red blazer draped over her chair with a red dress, and a puffy shirt, kindly welcomes her back. The receptionist has a calendar on her desk with the date for Monday, July 5th, 1982. Finally, Tricia felt at home.

Receptionist:

Welcome back, so jealous of your new assignment. My lord, getting PAID to LISTEN to Fleetwood Mac.

(Smiles excitedly)

Hopefully no nicks for Nicks?

Tricia :

(Giving an awkward plastic smile she hoped was “to scale”)

Living the dream and no nicks for Nicks with this tape. That Love In Store jam is gonna be like glue on my noggin all day.

Whose dream? Tricia was caught up pondering. Was it hers? Or whatever puppeteer caused the fresh hell she was trying to escape from. Were they still there? She thought in the back of her mind as a goosebump crept up her spine.

Tricia bumps into Tom Chesterton, the lead manager of their location, whose father was the President of the network itself.

Tom:

Hey legs, no more bangs? Or no more

(Giving a crass “humpty pumpty” gesture)

Bangs

Tricia :

(Dryly)

Funnier every time I hear it. I forgot which of us is interviewing Blind Cougar this weekend?

Tom:

(In a huff)

I’ll…. I’ll…I’ll just have to talk to my father about that.

Tricia :

(Teasingly bragging)

You definitely won’t be talking to Ed Van about it.

Tom

(Frustrated)

You’re lucky that Pamela Dutch chick wants to talk to you today. God knows the reason. Better be thankful every f***ing day to be working at Music Video Network.

Tom leaves in a huff.

Receptionist:

Someone’s interviewing the queen executive of music. That’s amazing.

(The receptionist smiles excitedly and gives Tricia a high five)

Don’t forget you’ve got an interview with the new band The Stops for the Slowdown at Marmont High soundtrack.

Tricia :

Ok…

Suddenly thrown by something about those names seeming…off.

Tricia :

(Perplexed)

Are you sure?

Receptionist:

Yep, the end of the day around 333

Tricia :

3…33?

Receptionist:

(Blazey)

…You know these rock n roll types, ever indecisive.

Tricia :

…Right…

(Smiles before leaving)

Thanks Jan

Tricia heads to her desk, trying to clear her head from a progressively surreal day. The day she thought,

(Finally having the time to fully see her calendar)

Oh God, it’s that day…

Being overwhelmed by the approaching anniversary of That Night pushed every other major day out of her mind. This call was a week late, anxiously doing so, but she knew that she needed to.

(Taking a deep breath)

She shakily picked up the phone in her tiny office, calling home. Knowing how this played out last year, sheepish would be underselling what she was feeling now.

The phone rings anxiously, debating hanging up with every ring. A man’s voice is faintly heard on the other end.

Tricia

(Anxiously)

…Dad

The voice on the other end isn’t heard.

The focus on Tricia pulls back, shrinking her in frame more and more with each and every line.

Tricia :

(Lump in her throat)

It…

(Voice on the other end is louder but muffled under Tricia‘s heartbeats)

I…just wanted to wish Mom a happy birthday.

(Tricia starts to tear up while trying to maintain her composure)

I don’t know, Dad, I don’t remember that night…I ca..

(Voice breaking)

Because I lov

(The other line hangs up)

Tricia begins to grimace and cry, overwhelmed.

Just over two years later, she’s been haunted by the fallout of “The Night That Never Was”

Network Executive enters her tiny office.

Network executive:

Tricia, Pamela Dutch is ready for you in the conference room.

Upon arriving at the conference room, Trusha was still in the haze of the overwhelming day, trying to avoid stumbling into the room.

Network Executive:

I’d love for you to meet Pamela Dutch, the biggest music executive on the East Coast.

A younger P enters the room, looking much more professionally conservative, and walks into the conference room. She’s dressed in a hypnotically blue power blazer with a passionate, sharp red blazer and pink lipstick, standing tall, proud, and bold in her high-end pumps. P/Pamela extends her hand, greeting a befuddled Tricia warmly.

Seeing Pamela and the residual connection to her through Randall. Tricia’s brain is processing a simultaneous flashback and flash-forward in time, seeing Pamela. Tricia goes cross-eyed (trying to fake a sneeze to cover her face). She tries to make her shattering reality while attaining any level of professionalism.

Pamela

(Trying to give her rare female coworker credit while brushing off curiosity from her “second job”)

Gotta respect that Rock N Roll lifestyle?

Tricia :

Sorry….must have a…RESTLESS MIND, probably had too much BACON

Pamela /P looks at Tricia more knowingly, yet trying to play it down, not entirely sure how to navigate her own curiosity.

Male exec

(Cluelessly chuckling, trying to keep up with a (to him) random conversation while not screwing things up with a major name in music)

…I can’t handle bacon much, especially with cheese

P looks longer at Tricia, trying to take in what the hell was happening. Would the nightmare of this day never end?

P:

You’re

(Long pause) HER

(Figuring out how to approach this)

…the…The Shout club lady? You stopped the gunman.

Executive:

The f***?

P:

It was all over the news; she went all cold-blooded on his ass. Don’t mess with her in heels.

Tricia :

(Frustrated, trying to get answers from her but not in front of a coworker)

(Sternly)

Or at all

P:

I…suppose…ANYWAY, I hear that you’re the golden goose interviewer around here?

Tricia :

(Reaching for names that suddenly seemed to come to her)

One may call me the Regina BACON of the music world with my Restless Mind.

Male executive:

Sorry, she’s not usually this…weird. She actually helped break the news on Phil Collins going solo.

(Casually chuckling, trying to re-establish normalcy)

I still feel betrayed that Collins branches away from Genesis.

(Under his breath)

…Follow You Follow Me, my ass

P:

(Warm yet inquiringly)

You seem very invaluable to the company.

Male executive:

(Reassuringly glad the normalcy has returned)

The Soundtrinket Music News wouldn’t be the colossus for the medium it is today without her.

Tricia catches P’s slight recognition of the oddity in something the executive mentioned but doesn’t know why.

P:

Excuse me, Jonathan, can you give Tricia and me some alone time? I’m curious about her direct perspective on the roles of women in the postmodern world of music.

Jonathan;

You damn postgrads and your theses and theoreticals; just try to make it more of a short story vs novel length conversation.

P:

(Smiling agreeably)

Deal

Jonathan leaves the room.

P and Tricia

(at the same time)

What the f***?

P:

Get out of my head, crazy.

Tricia :

F*** you I’ve been in hell since you’ve been in my head. Or whatever the f*** happened almost two years ago. You and the f**ing Randall Reynolds.

(Frustratingly chagrined)

Randall Reynolds, Randall Reynolds, Randall Reynolds. I feel like an obsessive f***ing stalker whose only connection to them is in my f***ing head.

(Sternly furious)

UNTIL

YOU

(Anxiously hoping to finally find sanity)

PLEASE, tell me you understand it beyond me just being a “heroic crazy b***”

P:

F***…ok….masterclas in this s*** I’m getting today.

(P takes a long deep breath)

Ok, well….I guess it worked.

Tricia :

The f*** are you talking about?

P:

I don’t know

Tricia :

(Condescendingly)

PHD huh?

P:

F*** you, you try to explain time travel before studying time tra…

(Takes a deep breath)

If you want to know where you really work, please follow up on my card.

Tricia :

What?

P

(Reassuringly)

You’ll need time. It’s going to be a very surreal day.

Tricia :

Uggg so…Who the f*** Is Roger Bacon anyways?

P:

(Her words catching up with her brain)

…da Vinci, who I’m writing my latest repo….

(Exhausted and befuddled)

F***ing time travel… I guess Randall just needed to be ready then.

(Pausing longer to take everything in)

Maybe you…

(Pauses again, giving a contemplative look of either comprehending or planning)

Tricia :

(Processing or trying to)

…Randall…from 1999 ah, f*** you that’s when I think they were from. I was from…he was from?

P:

The…

Tricia :

Life ruiner

P:

But you’re a hero,

(Trying to present Tricia with a silver lining)

and your current job’s not the worst?

Tricia :

And you and f***ing psychopath your little junior psychopath turned me into a f***ing puppet…I…can’t f***ing do this.

P slips her business card in Tricia‘s jacket as Tricia runs out of the room, trying desperately to escape an encroaching divergent reality.

Tricia leaves the meeting feeling profoundly overwhelmed. Hyperventilating, she finally feels a strange oneness of finally being heard yet disconnected from any/everything. Making her way to A port while still lost in the fog.

Seeing the logo for the Soundtrinket Music News flashing between itself and the prime universe’s job company, her brain begins to overload. Where is she? Who is she? What is she? Who the f*** is Randall Reynolds and where do they end and she begins.

Tricia leaves the building, throwing up in a garbage can outside while hailing a cab, woozily, increasingly feeling time moving slowly yet accelerated simultaneously. The events were separated by minutes yet felt like seconds.

Tricia

(Nodding off in the cab woozily)

The…Shout…night…club

Tricia nods off, having half-conscious sights and sounds of the 1990’s. Bands yet to be named, foreign yet connected to Randall’s future. Half awake, she pushes herself to center into some form of normalcy.

Taxi driver:

We’re here

Tricia gets out of the taxi, trying to wake her feet and self. She anxiously almost “zombie walks” slowly to the “club that changed her life”.

As she enters the door, she flashes back to the 1980 crowds fleeing The Shout as she slowly opens the door to a now-normal club during slow hours. A building chill ramps up throughout her back and arms.

1980 Tricia

(Shouting anxiously inside of herself with Randall at the wheel)

“He’s got a gun”!

No words come from her Randall-controlled mouth.

Modern Tricia :

(To herself, trying to remember in between worlds in ‘Club Purgatory “)

Who…?

1982 bartender:

(Shocked)

It’s you!

The sounds of the club screaming still proliferate in Tricia‘s subconscious.

Tricia :

Uh

Bartender:

You saved my life that night, possibly the whole damn club’s. Wild f***ing night. Wouldn’t expect to ever see you again.

Cutting between Randall through Tricia cutting up the mysterious stranger. With the mysterious figure trying to say something despite having heel-sized holes in their throat tendons/muscles. Meat and gore gushing out of their neck. Filtered through Tricia‘s trauma and “half brain” of the event, the words are muted.

Tricia grabs her head, taking in too much. Bending over, overwhelmed, Tricia holds herself up on the bar.

The bartender offers her a soda, which Tricia pops open and chugs down, damn near finishing half the thing in one gulp, shaking.

Tricia:

I can pay…

(Reaches for her wallet in 1982 juxtaposed with Ransha (Randall/Trisha) holding her bloody heel in 1980 and wallet in 1982)

Tricia :

Hell of a night

Bartender:

You’re telling me, crazy damn city, that was one of the weirdest nights I’d seen.

Tricia :

(Trying to maintain)

Never been robbed before

Bartender

Not like that or you and them…both of you seemed…different.

Tricia :

Different?

Bartender:

Hard to put into words. I’ve seen my share of junked-up weirdos, but…this…was something…

Tricia :

Different?

Bartender:

Yeah…unnervingly so. I’ve been held up at gunpoint before and by blade, so sporadic violence. It’s s***

(Takes a breath trying to explain the insane in a sane way)

I’m…well, not used to it but less immediately jarred byit. But this was some spirit leaving the consciousness s***.

Tricia :

(Apprehensive to dig back into the trauma memory)

…The….the other guy…did…die

Bartender:

You’re really wanting to know this s***? Had I not felt so terrified that night I wouldn’t even be sharing this s***. Mental duct tape kinda thing, ya know?

(Chuckles anxiously)

…Can’t help the bar either

(Bartender anxiously pours himself a shot of rum)

So long as I’m breaking protocol…

(Chuckles anxiously again)

Given that, damn night intoxication may be MORE akin to sanity.

(Takes another sip while trying to distract himself)

Wow…I’ve never had bad rum before today, but this.

(Takes another sip to be sure)

Is really s***y rum

(Awkward pause seeing the lostness and anxiety in his former patron’s eyes)

Seeing you today especially is some….freaky…zombie ghost s***

Tricia :

I know, I don’t think I moved like myself…?

Bartender:

(Clears throat and speaks under their breath)

…So did they…

Tricia :

(Anxiously curious to have closure on as much as her brain can handle)

They…moved like someone else too?

The bartender doesn’t say anything despite seeming to shrink as he stands. This skinny hipster-looking woman in sweatpants and an oversized shirt was scaring this “swole 80’s Tom Berenger-looking cat”. The bartender looked like he was seeing The Headless Horseman of Ichabod fame from childhood nightmares.

Tricia :

(Takes a deep sigh knowing which way of the fight/flight coin she’s ready for)

…Look man ... .I’ve ... .I’ve been living with this s*** as the rainiest damn rain cloud over my head for about two years now. I’m past mad or anything negative…

(Laughing anxiously about the absurdity of her life)

It’s like getting to the last page of your own mystery book and the damn thing blowing away.

(Laughs again anxiously)

Trust me, you can’t sound any crazier than I have the pas….too damn long.

Bartender:

(Gives a long pause)

Seeing you now…they…may…have…had YOUR GAIT.

(speeding up his response)

The more you move, the harder this is for me. I thought that I could do this, but I can’t. You saved my life, but they may have killed me and both…felt like you.

(Looks at her, trying to push that night from their mind)

I just need you to get the f*** away from me. You’re….you’re….not…right

Tricia leaves

(Depressed under her breath)

Theme of my day

Tricia fumbles for P’s card before heading to a payphone outside.

Tricia :

I…don’t know what the f*** is going on and i

I…you’re the one person in 2 years that hasn’t immediately looked scared and/or judgmental of me and…I need that now.

Cut to Tricia outside of P’s Westchester County Scarsdale suburban home. Debating pressing her doorbell, not knowing if she’s ready for weirder or finally prepared for closure.

P opens the door, welcoming her inside a living room filled with books on the history of sound, with a giant hardcover biography on Roger Bacon and thesis notes strewn around the living room.

P:

Still have the tape?

Tricia :

What?

P

The Fleetwood Mac tape we sent you?

Tricia :

No, you didn’…

(Tricia takes in the oddity of the past 2 years and

P excitedly motions for Tricia to give her the “Mirage” tape, putting it into a tape deck hooked up to a conventional (albeit metallic-appearing) tape deck attached to a very surrealistic amplifier.

Tricia :

Does that say…notch ….say…future?

P:

(Smiles jubilantly)

I can’t believe how lucky I am to have found you. Ten years until this, me and my partners theorized something like “The Shout incident” could happen, but we didn’t know how or when to approach you.

Tricia, confused, gives the “Mirage” tape to P. She puts it into the tape player

P:

YOU need to play it.

(P smiles excitedly)

Give it a try

Befuddled, Tricia presses play on the tape player, feeling a surreal jolt coming from her hand going into the tape player.

P:

(Smiles)

If you’re ready, press and hold down the slider and prepare to melt your brain

Tricia slides the tape amplifier slider as Love In Store begins to play. It begins to audio warp out of sync the vocals begin to stretch as the spool in the tape expands as Love In Store begins to warp into Big Love (from Mac’s next-as-of-then unreleased album). Christine and Stevie’s duet warps together into Lindsay Buckingham’s solo for the track Big Love.

P

(Still smiling)

So…you’re a first for me. The Roger Bacon thing you mentioned is newish to me, but my current work research project…however the hell that works. Let me reimburse your cab fare; that must’ve been a doozy of a trip.

P heads to her room to get her walker as Tricia sees Randall Reynold’s name in P’s alphabetical file cabinet, quickly jotting down his address and basic contact info. Hope for the best, plan for the worst, she thinks.

Tricia :

And the…music executive thing…?

P:

(Looking for her wallet)

My “second job”

(Laughs)

Ain’t it a gas? Sound design is a vital aspect for my employers, which means understanding music inside and out.

Tricia :

An alias?

P:

If you want to call it that. Different company name in the other ‘verse, BTW

Tricia :

The…what now? What the hell is it then?

P smiles mischievously, giving her her circular pink shades, which Tricia apprehensively puts on.

P points Tricia to look at her Soundtrinket Music News shirt in the mirror to see the other universe’s logo instead.

Tricia :

What the hell?

P:

(Smiling)

Gotta go mad to get sane, huh? I’ve got weirder.

Tricia :

And what the hell is Restless Minds?

P:

Above your pay grade

Tricia :

F*** you above my pay grade, I was your puppet, who the f*** was my Gipetto? Why the hell am I here if not for answers?

(P points to the tape deck to the future she’s playing)

P:

(Teasingly)

Because you can connect with time in ways nobody else currently can. You’ve walked between two times; you’re beautiful, damn near ethereal, and the first paradox I’ve ever seen in my almost decade in the field.

(Excitedly, P smiles as though she’s found the first of a new species)

The woman between two worlds.

Tricia:

I have no world, you’ve ruined my life you b***. You haven’t shown me a new world; you’ve destroyed the one I’ve had. Two years in purgatory and you’re calling it heaven.

(Laughs slightly maniacally)

Tricia angrily throws the tape deck on the floor, hoping it’d break, leaving the house furiously unfulfilled and stuck in a deeper level of her purgatory and frustrations.

Upon Tricia leaving, Pamela answers the phone.

Pamela:

(Over the phone)

You really want me to say it?

Unheard voice on the other end

Pamela:

Fine, you were right, we…you’ll have to do something about her. Her brain has taken in too much; the world isn’t ready for. I know I can’t walk this back; do what you need to do.

Cut to the Reynolds house. Randall is playing outside in the backyard with a Nerf gun.

Tricia rings the doorbell, waiting for Randall to answer. The Reynolds family Ford escort (or other economical family car) is running idle in the background.

Ryan answers the door.

Ryan:

(Confused)

Hello?

Tricia :

Pamela wanted me to pick you up; I’m her new assistant from Restless Minds. …She wanted me to take you to your exam.

Tricia gives young Randall a warm smile. Though warm now, it will be eerily familiar to the being that will haunt him in years to come.

Randall:

What’s her passphrase?

Tricia gives a long awkward pause before saying the first word that came to her mind.

Tricia:

Bacon

Ryan

(Smiling)

It’s what’s for breakfast.

Ryan gets into the car and closes the door as Tricia puts on the childlock with Randall in the back.

Tricia:

There’s been a development at RM. We have to be sure that you’re not taken by anyone.

Tricia drives up to the neighborhood’s security guard station.

Tricia:

Hi there, the company sent me to pick up Junior.

Security guard:

And you are…?

Tricia:

I’m Tricia, a work assici…

Tricia sees the security guard is looking at her skeptically.

Randall sees a book on how to jump-start a car hidden behind the seat and anxiously starts to crawl to the front seat as she slams on the gas, throwing Randall back.

Randall:

(Trying to roll down the window)

She’s trying to kidnap me!

Tricia rams through the wooden security pole as the security guard tries to shoot out the wheels but misses.

A motorcycle helmet-wearing driver, with their face concealed, is behind the wheels of a 1982 Chevy Blazer or jeep is parked off road. Seeing Tricia breaking through the wooden security bar, pursuing the road-running duo.

Hot in pursuit, the helmeted individual opens their helmet, revealing intensely focused eyes, as he grabs his .22 opening fire, shredding Tricia’s car’s driver window.

Tricia:

s***

Tricia:

You won’t believe me, but I don’t want to hurt you. I just have questions that only you can answer. I can’t ask them if you’re hurt or killed.

(Frustrated, trying to scare Randall into compliance until she can somehow think)

Cut to Randall’s POV warping through the intensity of the situation as Tricia’s face and silhouette begins to to visually warp from normal to more akin to The Being.

Tricia’s voice becomes otherworldly and garbles Randall. Terrified grabs the seat like his and is magnetized to it

Seatbelt now

Randall quickly clicks the seatbelt.

With the window to the car Tricia’s driving blown out, the helmeted figure changes from his .22 pistol to a Carbon-Dioxide Neurotoxin Dart gun, firing a dart at Tricia; somehow, she’s miraculously unaffected.

Tricia ramps up speed as Todd rams her side, which Tricia turns into the drive in the wrong lane to lose Todd as…

Randall

(Hyperventilating)

WATCH..

(Horn of car in front of them slamming, cutting off Randall’s ”out”)

Traffic continues to approach them; they both dodge between cars before off-roading into a potato field. Potato after potato blast through the undercarriage of both vehicles as Todd fires another dart into Tricia. The family car’s undercarriage gets “potatoed” to the point of stalling out.

Tricia parks sharply as she leaves the car running on foot. Randall runs to Todd’s car, hoping to escape the trauma of the day, as Todd grabs another tranq gun and extra darts as he pursues Tricia on foot, running and climbing a fence into nearby cornrows.

Todd takes off his helmet, swapping it for a ski mask to maintain hiding his identity within the corn.

Todd:

(Trying to get Tricia to speak aloud to find her)

F***ing corn am I right?

Silence besides the buzzing locusts and grasshoppers serenading the chase/hunt

Trisha runs slightly ahead of Todd, trying to be quick yet silent. Her arms are getting cut up by the sharp leaves in the rows.

Trisha flinches and slightly moans in pain as beetles fly to her, hitting her face.

Todd

(Taunting Tricia)

Give me swamps, give me deserts, but cornfields are a true pain in the ass. Not to mention the zoo of beasts you may bump into.

(Cut to Tricia anxiously hiding)

POV of a slithering, rattling snake: Which will it approach?

Todd:

It’s just the corn, you think, but they’ve already cut up out here, I’m betting?

(Threateningly)

Think you’re worse off with me? Or the randomness of pain in these rows?

Todd sees Tricia’s blood on a cornrow ahead as a snake approaches a fallen row.

Tricia sees an exit to the rows as the snake charges her.

Todd blasts the snake with a tranq dart, knocking it out. Tricia flees the rows as Todd reloads, taking deep breaths, aiming for Tricia’s exposed neck, hitting it, and finally knocking her out.

A farmer furiously ranting while the masked figure grabs a low-intensity tranq gun from his back.

Farmer:

Hell y’all gone n dun ta ma gerd damn crops ya sum bitches gon n dun recked a who…

Masked man shoots farmer with the weaker tranq gun, temporarily sedating them.

Tricia is half-conscious, crawling on the ground and bleeding out.

Tricia’s first-person POV as her vision wanes, dropping into a deeply comatose state

Tricia:

(Last physically conscious words)

This

(Woozily falling over)

F***ing

(Closing her eyes)

Da…

The helmeted pursuer takes off their helmet, revealing a 32-year-old Todd Dalton.

Todd Dalton:

(On his car phone with Trisha in the backseat)

Crafty gal called up the parents and said their aunt Betty was having an emergency to get them out of the house.

(Unheard voice on the other end)

Todd Dalton:

Patch her up? Crazy bitch stole a damn ki…right, she’s a breaker. It took three damn Neurotoxin Darts to bring her ass down…right, we don’t know how…yes, I’ll send her to The Locker…yep, no vitals, but she won’t be…on her way to Dreamyville probably for years.

(Voice unheard on other end)

That’s right…the parents are ok.

(Pause)

What should we do about the kid?

(Looks at the deeply exhausted and overwhelmed Randall)

Todd Dalton:

The poor kid must’ve had the most intense night of his life.

Cut to: The Locker: a special, highly secure wing deep underground of captured temporally paradoxical people and oddities.

PA system DJ 1

(Echoing throughout the underground hallways)

It’s Hawaiian shirt day, guys, so let’s turn those frowns…

PA system DJ 2:

UUUUpside down

PA System DJ:

That’s right, number two, we’ve got a brand new guest today. She’s gone from reviewing records to being one. Let’s welcome

PA System DJ 2

Drumroll please

(Both do a drumroll)

Tricia Cardoba!

Comatose Tricia is being wheeled through the hall by masked doctors wearing Hawaiian T-shirts, passing a room with the Dirty Blond Haired Woman. (currently girl) from issue 1. The doctors in her room examining her are all singing All I Have To Do Is Dream, by The Everly Brothers pleasantly yet uncontrollably)

Cut to Randall Reynolds’ family’s house.

Randall’s mom prepares his bed for him, tucking a shamen Randallto sleep.

Still exhausted from the chase, Randall anxiously begins to drift off to sleep as he nods off. The being begins to approach them in their sleep; now a blurry/fuzzy moving image with an otherworldly, warped voice emerges in his unconscious state.

The Being:

Finally, we can talk. I’ve got two years’ worth of questions for you, kid.

End of issue 2

© July 2026, Copyright by Lawrence Gaines, All Rights Reserved, No Reproduction Without Permission July 25th, 2026

Ext.: A metro bus is casually driving through the city. Randall Reynolds, a 20 something neurotic college student with long, unkempt yet clean hair and a blurry graphic T-shirt, is listening to “Dreams” by The Cranberries from a portable CD player, whistling an eerily familiar but lesser herd tune.

A mousey yet ethereal dirty blond-haired young woman approaches him. She’s tall and full-figured but moves with the uneven poise of a moose. Yet despite the awkward stumbling has a charismatic glow to her being. A “Joann Cocker” type of loose-legged walker, yet with angelic casual grace.

Dirty Blond Haired Woman:

I loved when you whistled that.

Randall Reynolds:

I’m sorry?

Dirty Blond Haired Woman :

S***, sorry I knew I’d do it, I just haven’t seen you in so long.

Dirty Blond Haired Woman:

Gerd

Randall Reynolds:

(Confused)

Bless you

Dirty Blond Haired Woman:

It’s my name…

(Reservedly)

If you can hear it

(Annoyed and confused)

Don’t you remember this?

(Waits a minute

(Smiles in a pleasantly mischievous manner)

Maybe this’ll help

Randall backs off, and the Dirty Blond Woman begins to sing “Dreams” by The Cranberries without hearing the song, in an unnerving tune. Other passengers besides him begin to sing the song in an ethereal unison as well. A calming frequency begins to soothe Randall of his former anxieties.

Then he sees THEM

The most transfixing, terrifying eyes he’s ever seen. The bus driver’s eyes were unnervingly, perfectly sharp blue, with a jagged gaze as though poking into your soul.

The bus driver got up.

Randall Narrating:

Oh God, who’s driving the bus

The windows of the bus go from showing beautiful vistas outside to black nothingness. A vast expanse of empty infinity. The face of a terrifying, giddily smiling devil, so vile it has teeth for lips, then enveloped the outside world.

Dirty Blond-Haired Woman’s voice

The only sound in the world was my lack of a scream that would truly encapsulate the cosmos I currently resided in. The giant face that would haunt me for years simply said;

The Being:

(Interrupting)

All clocks run full circle.

Randall Reynolds wakes up shaken in his college dorm room.

“1979” by The Smashing Pumpkins is playing on his clock radio. Randall Reynolds exits his dorm room, getting his bike from the bike rack in the hall. Common trivialities are now life-or-death tasks with the unnerving ...feeling. Of.. something.

Randall stops biking at a light and waits for green as the red and green seem to meld. He anxiously checks to see that both sides are empty. He takes off again, biking down an empty city; the lingering chill from his last dream is calming and unnerving in equal ways.

Red and blue police lights are behind Randall, chasing him down the street, though no car is in sight.

The sound of a police siren fills the air, almost becoming deafening, as he hears gears screech beside him.

Randall turns to see a cube-like structure in the incomplete form of a cop car with windows rolled up.

Randall:
(Anxiously talking to himself)

You’re at Grad School, NOT HERE. NOT NOWHERE, NOT NOWHERE, NOT NOWHERE

The window of the police car rolls down showing encompassing darkness with only piercing blue eyes filling the darkness.

The Being:
(Raspy Gushing Deep Voice)
Who have you been kidding? You’ve been nowhere for years.

A giant hand, almost the size of the shifting demonic cop car amalgamation, disproportionate to the man-being, reached out as the being’s mouth of sharp, rotting teeth seemed about to dig into his scalp.

Randall wakes up shaken yet relieved momentarily until he sees his forgotten former frenemy and self-described mentor, P, sitting in the corner of her room smoking a cigarette from a cigarette holder, wearing pink circular shades (and a white 80’s “We Lift The Globe” shirt). She has big reddish-brown curly Karen Allen-type hair with a “retired hippie” look that’s part Karen Allen, part Jobeth Williams. She’s warm-hearted as she is multifaceted yet paradoxically clinical in her therapeutic approaches.

Randall:
(Waking up in a panic)
GUH!

P:
(Smiling warmly)
Welcome back

Randall:
Fu…

P gives him a warm hug and smiles.

P:
I’ve missed you too

Randall:
(Annoyed)
You know it’s finals week, right?

P:
I guess that’s the same as “I miss you too in Gradschoolese”

(P smiles proudly)

My boy got into grad school!

(Pats Randall on the back warmly)

Randall assesses how to react to his multifaceted feelings for the woman who made him what he is today. The good and the bad.

Randall:
…Yep

P:
So…

Randall:
A lot to catch up on?

P:
I wasn’t going to say it, but

Randall:
(Dryly, sarcastically, and defensively)
I AM psychic

P:
Then you should already know my breakdown of the overrated nature of normalcy for us normies.

Randall:
And now I’m not going to say f*** you, but go f*** yourself.

(Chuckles to himself)

Randall:

(Takes a deep sigh at the full circle he’s found himself in)
OH I THOUGHT I WAS OUT

P
I’m…

Randall

(Done with her apologies, sincere or not)
Got another cigarette?

P:
What?

Randall:
So long as we’re getting back into bad habits, right? I assume you’re not here about my law degree.

P smiles as she gives him a present.

P:
As a matter of fact

(Reserved)

…fine…I’m not going to bulls***you and say that you’re here because you’re in line for a law degree…

P smiles, giddily jumping around.

P:
But congratuf***inglations,

(Excitedly quickly)
Open the gift, open the gift, open the gift

Randall:

(Annoyed yet nostalgic for old times)
You didn’t get me another singing card

P:
(Smiling goofily)
MAAAYBE…open the gift

Randall opens the gift to find a 40-year single malt of very high-end whiskey.

P: hugs Randall again

P:
Congratulations kiddo.

Cut to a ⅓ empty bottle of very high-end whiskey.

Randall:

(Sighs)
...So I may as well ask about…

P:

(Enunciating with a dry, drunk half-sincerity)
“The job”?

Randall:
Who needs my kind of help this time? How the hell are y’all still open, too? Didn’t you close in ‘92?

The broad-backed and proud standing General Todd Shelton enters the room. He’s a broad shouldered clean cut buzz cut man in his early 50’s with brown hair in a formal general’s uniform. A tired, older long-lived man who’s seen and engaged in too much combat, a dead friend, and dead ends shaping his…non-traditional view of the world.

General Todd:

Metamorphose, as I call it

P:

(Teasing Todd)
He likes butterflies

General Todd:

(Offended)
There’s an issue with butterflies?

P:
And don’t you say one damn thing about Bh..

General Todd:

Kid…sorry,

(Looks to P to get his name)

P:
Randall

General Todd:

Randall, my man, have you ever heard of the rare butterfly species Bhutan Glory?

General Todd looks at P in an asking/pleading look for some delicious, very high-end whiskey.

General Todd grabs a cigar and lighter from his desk and chops the cigar with a chomper. He eyes P, waiting for approval to imbibe the brown gold.

P:
Don’t look at me; it’s Randall’s whiskey. Believe it or not, he’s this fascinated by butterflies when he’s sober.

General Todd:
Randall?

Randall
Shoot, if you’re comfortable with drinking on duty.

General Todd pours himself a glass.

General Todd:
(Tisks)

Civy’s giving me S***ty,

(Chuckles alleviated)

It’s the late nineties, baby; we’re only at war with ourselves these days.

(Threatening mildly teasingly)

Although denying a general some high-quality whiskey could make a powerful enemy,

P
(Reassuringly)
He’s teasing

General Todd
(Finishing drinking from a glass)
Mildly, so

(Clears his throat)

THE BHUTAN GLORY….

(Reminiscing)

The first time I ever saw one, I When I was...little bit younger than you, I was in ‘Nam. 19

(Thinking about the specific year)

f***ing 70.

General Todd holds up a hand to give him some time.

General Todd:
I’m sorry, P was wanting me to break you into this upcoming job with vulnerability…which…has never been easy for me. Especially this story

General Todd drinks another glass of very high-end whiskey.

General Todd:

(Voice breaking)
…So after Travis died

P

(giving context)

His best friend from high school

General Todd:
And the best damn drummer I’ve ever known

Randall:
Oh God, I’m so…

General Todd:
Don’t worry, this is a story of beauty wrapped in tragedy.

P

(Dryly making a butterfly joke)

Cocooned, one may say

General Todd

(Ignoring her mom joke)

So….I was in Vietnam trying to get back to my deceased friend one drink at a time when my eyes were opened.

(Cut to)

General Todd is in his trashed-out room, staring into the expanse of nothingness he was feeling as he was absent-mindedly flipping quarters.

General Todd:

(Narrating)

I was completely removed from the intensity of the world, looking for my way out.

General Todd is holding his service nine millimeters in the other hand, loosely dangling from the bed with his finger almost glued to the trigger.

Narration continues

Then suddenly I received a most unexpected gift.

The phone rings as General Todd is jolted to attention. Picking it up, he hears R with an oddly good inflection.

P:

(Flat in voice, seemingly in a deep trance)

In 1999, all you know will end.

General Todd:

(Hungover)

Uhh?

P:

(Apprehensively)

I...sorry I….don’t know...I felt some compulsion to tell you that...f*** I’m high

(Deep stoner laugh)

General Todd:

That’s

(Still very confused by the situation)

...fine… so, who is this?

P

(The phone seems to static up when she says her first name)

I’m….a

Christ,

…this is so weird; why am I so comfortable talking to you?

General Todd:

(Shyly trying to play it cool and semi-flirtatiously)

...Ladies love a guy in a uniform…?

P:

Are you a cop?

General Todd:

Soldier for the US of A, Dalton, Todd Dalton

P:

Was that something you’d see as...smooth?

General Todd:

I’m going to shut up before I ruin this more.

P:

You’re doing ok….if you want something to Titanic this.

(Sheepishly)

….I’m a true blue anti-war demonstrator.

General Todd:

(Spit take of his beer)

Ah, the enemy is revealed indeed, good lady.

(Drunkenly burps under his arm, getting out the loose juice without embarrassment)

Are you more team Rubin or Hoffman?

Quick flashes of Jerry Rubin and Abby Hoffman’s pictures breaking into the reality

P:

Springfield

General Todd:
Buffalo?

(Chuckles excitedly)

A woman after my own heart.

P

(Dubious)

... Really?

General Todd:

The last song playing on the radio before I shipped off was, For What It’s Worth, s***you not. I…

(Lays down on his back with his head lying off the bed looking for a cigarette)

I…found some weird…. significance or….. something in that.

P:

(Chuckles)

Listening to the theme of the revolution before deploying seems…

General Todd:

Yeah, it was an odd juxtaposition to come into. …..BEGINNING of the revolution?

(Mystified)

Christ, I’ve been in this jungle too f***ing long,

(Chuckles)

Me and Trav….

(General Todd’s PTSD sets in)

Oh God

P

(Anxiously)

…Are….you...ok?

General Todd:

f***…

(Takes a swig of his whiskey, bloodying his hand punching the bed frame)

My…

(Takes a deep breath)

My friend won’t be coming home.

P:

Christ... I’m sorry, I can’t

General Todd:
(Interrupting the upcoming further stab in his heart)

I know, just wish

(takes another drink)

Just…wish there was a f***ing way to get what we were looking for that wasn’t so…f***ing brutal.

P:
(Taking a long awkward pause)
What if….I…I may have…an idea that I would need your help to sell

Slow pan down to the phone cord having been unplugged the whole conversation.

(Montage of R and General Todd promoting the psychic “Restless Minds” program to various political and military figures along with their early operations through long-range telepathy, literally seeing through their enemies’ eyes throughout the globe until the early 1990s, ending with Randall as a kid in the program wearing a nametag while “Volunteers” by Buffalo Springfield plays serenading throughout the montage)

P:

So, from that combined aversion to further bloodshed and loss that came out of the Vietnam, we explored other less... traumatic forms of warfare.

General Todd:

Changing the world with psychic wars, solving problems with the power of the mind rather than ammo

(Laughs jubilantly)
BRAINS VS BLOOD!

Randall:

Kinda telling me stuff I already know y’all did finance my Restless Minds?

General Todd:

Ah our fried Salad days, before that liberal puss s*** canned our budget

(Annoyed drunken rant)

I mean I had a PRIVATE jet budget in 1990, you believe that S***? SMALL TOWN “Bama boy like myself cruising around in my private jet like Tim damn McGraw or some S***, now I’m in back by the bathroom fart juice STANKY ASS COACH

P:

(Reassuringly)

BUT

General Todd clears his throat and changes his attitude.

General Todd:

Certain…recent…events have reignited interest in this 80’s classic.

(Smiling excitedly)

Getting my ass out of the “fart cloud” seats

(Excitedly)

Back to those golden good seats

Randall:

(Confused)

...Random events being?

General Todd and P excitedly

WELL, look who’s suddenly interested

Randall
(Dry to General Todd)

You too, huh?

(Defeatedly fighting his reservation despite this curiosity)

…I….f*** you guys, you’re not wrong, but…I

P:

Need more time? That’s fine; you’ll be needing to sign some papers and legal stuff before we do on our end for this anyway.

Randall:
(Sarcastically)

That’s not ominous at all.

P:
No, it’s just…new programs that are being resurrected after a decade need a fresh eye and ink slash signatures.

General Todd

(Grumbling)

And funding
(Smiling excitedly, patting Randall on the back almost in a drum-like fashion; he’s so ecstatic)
Man, tomorrow is gonna be a f***ing trip though

Randall enters La taverne de la chambre de rêve, a local tavern that seems to shift between an alehouse and a coffee bar. Seeming to shift visually between the two as Randall wanders throughout it, populated by college students.

Someone puts a quarter in a suddenly appeared jukebox playing “Daydream Believer” by The Monkees, or “All I Have To Do Is Dream” by The Everly Brothers as an Indian Pale Ale is being made for Randall. (A small hand-drawn poster for a fictional ‘90’s shoegaze band is faintly seen on the coffee shop board, colored in an unnerving red and green shade)

Despite the warm atmosphere inside, the world feels…sludgey and worn through a hazy, Vaseline look of nostalgia, regret, and eerie uncertainty.

The dirty blond-haired woman lights up a rolled cigarette-looking joint, revealing her giant brown eyes.

Randall:

(teasing)

Ballsy

Dirty Blond-Haired Woman:

(Retorting)

Nosy

Randall:

Sorry, it just has a familiar smell I haven’t smelled si….

Dirty Blond-Haired Woman
(Annoyed)
Seriously? You remember the f***ing SMELL before remembering me.

Randall:
What? You’re in Grad School too?

Dirty Blond-Haired Woman :
Here we go again; maybe this will help

Dirty Blond-Haired Woman whispers in Randall’s ear a thoroughly fundamental yet somehow long-forgotten revelation that catches him by surprise. Putting him in a state of fondness and regret, with slight goosebumps filled empty glow puzzled look at the Dirty Blond-Haired Woman. The person behind him turns around, intent to slit Randall’s throat. Before the mysterious figure can end Randall, the dirty blond-haired woman punches Randall in the face, waking him up.

Randall wakes up alone in his dorm room giving an exhausted sigh. His nose starts to gush blood from a mysterious injury as he lights a joint, apprehensively waiting for tomorrow,

Sudden jarring cut to an overly lit office with P, Randall, and General Todd with very sharp, flat lighting to juxtapose the foggier/hazier, more Vaseline-type lighting of Randall’s dreams.

P:

Two months ago, the FBI found the body of a Olivia Wheeler.

P slaps a picture of Olivia Wheeler on a whiteboard and a picture of her bones from her autopsy by the tree where she was found.

Randall:
And the particularly weird thing about that is?

General Todd:
Olivia Wheeler has been a Cold Case file since 1980, when she was last seen outside, or rather heard from, going to The Shout or THE punk club in the heart of New York City. Her body…or rather, skeleton was found Monday. Buried under the Dover Oak in New York.

P:

(Showing a picture with an unusual symbol from Olivia’s autopsy carved into her bone)
With this carved in her skeleton, the strangest thing was that the CSI team that found her ruled that they were there before she was even attacked.

Randall:
So..she was just living, running around with an

General Todd
(Interrupting Randall)
Upside-down triangle

P:
Which, barring the specific design, our experts feel is an inversion of the Trinity.

Randall
...And…what does this have to do with….anything?

General Todd:
That’s what we want you to tell us.

Randall:

(Befuddled)
Que?

Slideshow changes to show The Tune, some ungodly combination of futuristic digital media that society will evolve towards, meets a wood-covered, embroidered, reminiscent artifact of an ancient, primordial age that society has long evolved from. Juxtaposed with the ancient, fantastically shaped wood is an unknown, otherworldly metal, seeming fresh from…elsewhere. The metal has the shapes and embroidered forms of ancient battles and futuristic events never before seen. Wound and bound to the wood like the past and future connected.

Richard Attenborough-style British Narrator:

Known as The Tune, this long-lost instrument was believed to be created in the Medieval period of British history by Roger Bacon. Bacon was seen as a wizard in his age, given his forward-thinking beliefs, especially in regards to the auditory. This led to this Miracle of the Post Modern yet Ancient age. A paradoxical insult to the notion of time itself.

(A familiar tone is heard in Randall’s head as soon as he hears a woofing, like two astral sheets hitting both halves of his brain, so loud from the corner of his mind it’s overriding the external audio)

Narrator:

The Tune

The video shows primitive blueprints of The Tune.

The tune in Randall’s mind intensifies as he sees something he’s always known yet never seen.

Randall
(As though he’s taken in the weight of the world)

…Uh

(Tries to shrug this odd feeling off as he keeps watching)

P:

What we found the public isn’t ready for, but for this case, you need to be. In his age especially, Bacon was OBSESSED with a theory of eternal consciousness. The idea is that music and a connection for the first time experiencing a song could drive a person and, therefore, the world. With that idea, Roger supposedly manufactured The Tune, a mythical device believed to send a consciousness into the physical vessel of another, bridged by hearing and deeply connecting to a piece of music that would inspire the last self.

General Todd:

(Excitedly)
And your ticket to investigating and stopping this murder. How do you feel about the 80’s, kid?

Randall:
(Nervously)

…uh…You’ve uh...had this thing a while, then?

P:
Actually yes

General
Damn thing won’t work though

P:
About that…we haven’t actually had a mind strong enough or right enough to use it.

General Todd:
Even among the other of your su..

P:
(Correcting him)

Pupils

General Todd:
Right, pupils, ANYWAY, we need your help

P:

(Reassuringly)
Olivia needs your help too

Randall:
Sorry..just…wow…OK, taking all of this in. So, what? PRESUMING that this works

General Todd
(Scoff chuckles under his breath)
The PSYCHIC is skeptical; that’s new

Randall:
(Annunciating)
PRESUMING THAT THIS WORKS, I’ll what? Where will I be?

P:

(Excitedly jealous)
The Shout is the hottest punk club of the early 80’s; you lucky dog, experiencing the first club to play Intruder, no less.

General Todd:
They’ll be debuting his song Intruder there ahead of its album release.

P:
(Fangirling)

Such a gem!

(Clears her throat and composure)
Nothing…it’s...just a...really great album

General Todd:
…Yes, well, The Shout show will be happening the night that Olivia disappeared. A month later, Tricia Cardobas from a major rock magazine wrote an article about how Intruder at that show changed her view on music forever.

Shows an interview of Tricia Cardobas interviewing a variety of early 80’s proto-punk and alternative acts

P:
That’s who we anticipate you landing in.

Randall:
Right, so what happens if I do or don’t do this? Not to sound heartless, but she’s been dead for almost twenty years; things change, right?

General Todd:
Don’t you recognize the last name?

Randall
Oh s***the

P:

(Interrupting Randall)
Senator Louis Wheeler had a bad day in early 1980

Flickering 1980 footage overlaps the current footage framed as a political documentary showing Senator Louis being confronted with the news of his daughter’s death.

General Todd:

Her disappearance was one of, if not the biggest, red flag that led to the disbanding of Restless Minds. Her survival ensures the program’s survival.

P:

And potentially a paradox for a shorter Cold War and, in turn, the potential for stronger mental defenses for you.

General Todd:

(Teasing somewhat menacingly)

Been having odd dreams recently?

Randall takes in the entirety of what’s being proposed, reserved to escape the ghosts of his past but wanting a light against the ghost of his present. Taking a long pause before…

Randall:
So what? I’m just supposed to be able to handle some twisted-ass serial killer with what? My bulletproof charm?

P:
Speaking of bullets, the bartender tends to keep “Frankenstein”, his modified shotgun he’s VERY proud of, behind the bar.

General Todd:
And don’t forget to turn off the safety. I swear every one of you little punks thinks just because you play video games that you’re Elliot Ness on the trigger or something. Worst case, you could get something from the kitchen…but that may be a bit….messier.

General Todd:

Time is ticking before we risk a time infraction.

P:

(Putting her hand warmly on his shoulder)

Are you ready?

Randall laughs terrified

Randall:

…As I’ll ever be

P wheels in a wooden encased record player with 2 medium size wooden speakers.

General Todd:

Bacon’s secret journals theorized there may be a transmental connection between a strong emotional and mental…bridge between two individuals in time through specific music.

Randall lays down, moving apprehensively while trying to get as comfortable as he is remotely able.

P excitedly spins the Gabriel vinyl in her hands.

P:

A personal favorite gem of mine

P puts on the vinyl, dropping the needle.

“Intruder” by Peter Gabriel begins to play.

Randall begins to become clearly more unnerved while paradoxically trying to relax.

Intruder becomes more warped, as though mutating from auditory to something…more like some vibrational engine seeming to reach Randall on an astral way, starting to pull at his essence.

Randall:
Guys, I think that I made a mistake…I

His consciousness is ripped from his body instantly and slowly, simultaneously pulling and pushing him and his being inside out and outside in, warping and ripping his being from Randall to Tricia.

Sudden cut:

POV: a toilet Randall vomits into as he sees two unfamiliar strangers on his chest

Randall/Tricia:

(Nauseously reorienting)
What the f***?

Alarmed by his voice, he tries to distract himself, stumbling, disoriented, on his borrowed body’s heels in terror. He pushes the lone punk light brown bang out of his eyes, adjusting Tricia’s leather studded jacket, fanny pack, and skirt.

He vomits again from Randall’s broken, reforming reality.

Randall’s scream at encountering the everything and nothingness of the vastness of time ends in Tricia’s scream.

Randall

(Through Tricia’s voice)

Well...that f***ing sucked

The Being begins to faintly play through the club’s speakers as a Giallo style POV of the being is seen behind the bar, breathing heavily. The first person grabs the shotgun, putting it behind their coat.

Stumbling around on Tricia’s heels, Randall takes them off, breaking the heels into a weapon.

Randall:

(Anxiously)

Messy it is then

Randall anxiously searches the nightclub, serenaded by Intruder as the tune creates a haze of goosebumps, cutting initially to split-screen between Randall and the being’s third-and first-person perspectives (splitting the page or screen like a knife) as their mutual searches get closer and closer, searching the club and the alley outside The Shout until…

Over-the-shoulder shot from The Being’s shoulders of a different height from before, without showing their face, with the perspective on Randall /Tricia looking unnerved, armed with their stiletto blade.

The Being:

(Happily smiling as Randall points the stiletto blade at them)

Hello, Randall, looking forward to stopping me? It’s gonna be a wild ride for both of us when you do. Get ready to change our world, kid.

(Close up as The Being smiles sinisterly in their otherwise unseen borrowed body)

The Being unnervingly knowingly starts to whistle “Wave of Mutilation” by The Pixies, bookending the preluding nightmares while teasing the horrors to come.

© July 2026, Copyright by Lawrence Gaines, All Rights Reserved, No Reproduction Without Permission July 19th, 2026