The Tune

Issue/Episode One, Volume/Season One

“Wave of Mutilation” by Pixies begins to play in a dreamlike minor-key surf-rock nightmare cover.

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