Terminal Pleasure, The Long Wait, Your Bestest Friend

“No Responsibility” or "Maximum Pleasure" "Perfect Makes Practice"

Pre-credits scene: violent sexual fantasy to loud soundtrack; then image and sound suddenly go out. Blank screen. Voice-over: "Well, that's this one done". Cut to two male nurses leaning over a ultra-modern hospital bed where a male body is lying still, wired in all directions, white noise in the background. They switch off various pieces of equipment and move on to the next bed.

Somewhere, in the near future: a young woman is travelling by cab; she is talking to somebody on the phone, which allows us to discover that she is a reporter on her way to a medical conference at a research centre belonging to the famous "FantaZ.Inc." corporation. She explains to her friend that she is late and feeling nervous about her assignment: the corporation is an important, well respected medical institution. She arrives and, after passing a couple of security checks, is admitted to an ultra-modern, shiny white, official looking building. The close-up on her journalist's card shows us her name and rank. She is finally welcomed to the "FantaZ.Inc."'s public relations general assembly annual report, and taken to an amphitheatre.

The speaker at the pulpit is a distinguished-looking, unctuous kind of weasel who has just started presenting FantaZ's best known contract scheme; he raises an eyebrow as she makes her late entrance. He explains that, as everyone knows, the ever more desperate market for organ transplants has been in dire need of audacious reforming for quite some time. Three years ago, the company, with the government's permission and under its utmost vigilant fool-proof control, launched its ground-breaking -some even called it "revolutionary" (self-satisfied pause here)- "exchange scheme" named Eden. In exchange for complete control and disposal of their body, people can check in and be electronically, constantly entertained for a year of total bliss, having their fantasies enacted in their brain. Their bodies are meanwhile used for organ transplant, DNA harvesting, medical experiments, controlled tests and so on. The “patients” don't feel a thing as their brains' pleasure centres are the only areas activated, with their pain receptors having been neutralized (as shown on the chart projected on the screen). The scheme started as a response to the organ transplant crisis and the need for genetic material instituted by the ten-year State cloning project. Also as a means of making use of the hardened, irredeemable criminals that have gradually clogged up the penitentiary system (reference to recent crime explosion and the need to dissuade re-offenders). Some people laughed when the company introduced this scheme, some radicals (wry smile here) criticised it harshly, claiming that it would breach ethical codes. Well, three years down the line, here is the first assessment of its success: positive figures flash up on the giant screen. Besides, the speaker reminds everyone, every medical progress in history has been denounced at the time of its introduction as witchcraft / unethical.

A corporate presentation film may follow. Then different questions to the ultra-slick spokesman enable us to quickly present and explore different issues. Why only one year? Because the "patient"'s (he insists on this term) body will deteriorate, given what treatments the patient has been subjected to; this is a FantaZ clause / safety precaution, especially if one bears in mind the fact that people in a coma can be maintained for years. Besides, FantaZ doesn't want to risk / encur any legal suit, being only too respectful of The Law. Ethics? Everything has been cleared with the authorities: he refers the audience to the slick brochure handed by the glamorous assistants at the entrance. Lucy rummages through her overcoat pockets to fish it out. How to make sure the patients only experience pleasure and no pain? Because the brain centres are constantly monitored and all pain receptors have been neutralized, only pleasure waves are activated. Why not extend this pleasure activation device to the rest of humanity then? Precisely because that would be unethical: to control someone against their will; also think of the consequences: no-one would do any work anymore! This would mean the end to the human race: once the patient has been plugged in (technical term: "energised"), there can no be no coming back -it's a terminal process. Finally, for physical reasons: in order to achieve the appropriate level of brain stimulation, energy / blood have to be diverted away from the patient’s limbs. “In effect, the patient becomes a zombie” Lucy remarks to herself (makes a note?), as the body can no longer function in its entirety anymore.

Raising her hand, Lucy makes the point that four fifths of "patients" (she has trouble with the word) are men: is it because they are more hedonistic, less in touch / interested with the real world? The smug spokesman (briefly unsettled by her unpredicted question) answers patronisingly. He then pre-empts other questions / objections; dismisses claims by "politically correct"(smirk here) -i.e. fanatical- human rights lobbies who have spoken out against the scheme; deems them “backward, luddite thinking”.

A protester then rises from his seat and shouts a few slogans, acting crazily and aggressively. The suited security intervene and eject him cleanly. The speaker throws his hand in the air: "See? What did I tell you, how sad, how terribly sad..." He reiterates that throughout the ages, the medical profession has always availed itself of bodies, and that religious dimensions / practices are all and very good -but that they're out of the State's prerogatives. He also claims that, finally, FantaZ.Inc. has unequivocally proved its responsible attitude. End of self-satisfied press conference.

Throughout the Q. and A. session, (more and more frequently as well as longer and longer) cuts to a nervous man being followed down plush corridors by smart dressed men. He jumps staircases; switches lifts; loses them. He eventually enters the press-room and sits near Lucy who, as she arrived late, had to sit at the back. The timing of this sequence coincides with the end of the conference.

Lucy gets up to leave. The man, whom the goons haven't caught up with, bumps into her, and discreetly slips a disk (correction ten years later: a USB stick!) inside her pocket. Apologies all round. His pursuers turn up, and he runs away. Intrigued, she follows him down a corridor, where she sees him cornered by the big men (same type of suit as the security earlier). At that point, a hand lands on her shoulder and she gets invited, politely but firmly, to leave ("Nothing to see here, dear little madam, now if you please, the exit is this way, I believe you got your bearings wrong, easy mistake to make ha ha..."). She is escorted out of the premises.

(Later) She nearly loses the document on her way home as she slips in a puddle, pushed by a grunting man who pays no attention to her whatsoever. This incident establishes the town as a rough place; the pavement is caked in mud, with constant dirty rain from a grey sky. Her jacket is dirty and she throws it on the laundry pile. She lives in a crummy flat; no messages on her answerphone. She works on her article. The next day, she takes her jacket off to the cleaners; the bored man at the launderette asks her if she's checked the pockets; she answers "I never carry anything because of the pickpockets these days, you know how they are...". He absent-mindedly nods but still goes matter-of-factly through her pockets, where he discovers the fugitive's USB stick; asks her if it's hers. Annoyed to have been found in the wrong, she denies it at first. He throws it away (in a bin?); she picks it up as an afterthought, out of curiosity.

Later in the evening, at home. She plays the USB stick on her laptop: it's a video from the man who bumped into her. He describes himself as a troubled FantaZ scientist named Chasky. An initial enthusiastic contributor to the Eden project, he's discovered some troubling change of directions and hidden facts. Namely, he accuses FantaZ of not keeping bodies for a whole year but of using them as quickly as possible to maximize profit (stripping the bodies of all organs as fast as possible and not giving the patients their year of virtual bliss in return); of falsifying its records, with regards to prisoners on the death row, comatose car-crash and Army patients who have gone unaccounted for; of being perfectly able to secretly rent their pleasure stimulating installation to ultra-rich patients with no fatal physical consequence in return; of secretly treating the authorities to its hedonistic device in exchange for what amounts to murder. He accuses the powers-that-be of covering the company's wrongdoings. Chasky invites his listener to go and investigate his claims for himself / herself and divulges key-codes to enter the company's facilities. But "whoever sees this" must be aware that they won't be believed, that they are in great danger, and that corruption is ripe. He will try to smuggle his confession out, but feels he is already under suspicion, and this is why he wants to leave a trace of his discoveries should “anything” happen to him.

Lucy decides to investigate: now, that sounds exciting, this could be her big break. Don't get ahead of yourself, she tells herself. "Think, girl, think: let's try to play this right..." She approaches her busy editor, pretending to want to follow up on her report about FantaZ in a positive way. Hardly bothered to give her any time, he gives her the go-ahead: "Sure, why not..."

That night, she drives to the bodies disposal unit where the renegade scientist worked; enters thanks to the key-codes he provided, and inspects several rooms. In the "exit" unit, she ascertains that the corpses are almost totally looted of all their members, with only the barest minimum maintained in to keep them alive.

An employee turns up, surprising her. He checks what she's been eyeing. She hurriedly flashes a badge / her memory drive credential at him, which seems to satisfy him. Ah, he remarks, she's interested in anatomy? She's into corpses, heh heh! She remarks that not an awful lot seems to remain in the patients' bodies. In itself, the body stripping is not in contradiction with the company's charter, the helpful employee explains, who then tries to chat her up (wildly diverging conflicting points of view / interests provide tension to their exchange). He also tries to gross her out: "Now look at this little lady. See? This here bit is all that the poor bastards actually need to stay alive". Lucy starts to feel queasy and takes her leave, leaving the man in stitches. (Note: the film mustn't show too much gore at this stage, just a quick glimpse to whet the appetite. Cf. Geneviève Bujold in "Coma", with the suspended bodies.) She leaves the facility (as seen through a CCTV camera that follows her movements), not convinced either way about Chasky's allegations.

She tries to get in touch with Chasky the next day: phones him. She is told that he's just had a fatal car accident. This alarms her. She goes back to the building and enters another unit. A chart in the lift directs her to the "recent arrivals" floor. She inspects the ward, goes through its multiple booths (eerie music, electronic beep beeps, she's all alone). She finds Chasky's body, beatifically plugged in, which contradicts what she has been told (he was supposed to have got beheaded). An arm of his has already been cut off. Lifting his eyelids, she discovers his pupils have been taken too (shock: empty eyes). She hears noise behind her and takes refuge in the next booth, drawing the curtain. The two nurses discuss the automatic liver and heart transfer to be performed on Chasky. She sneaks out of the building: a bit of crisp choreography here, involving passing by guards looking the other way, walking under CCTV cameras rotating at that precise moment, and doors held for her or opened by staff walking off unconcernedly.

She goes back to her newspaper office that night (most of the story takes place at night or under a grey rain) and tells her editor what she's seen. To her amazement, he's less than impressed and points out her lack of evidence: so what if her informer died one way and not another? Can she prove he's been murdered, if this is what she imagines? After all, he is enjoying the time of his life, now that he's been "plugged in", and he points out the dreadful scenery outside (complete with car alarms and police sirens on the soundtrack). She thinks it over. Getting all deontological, he asks her whether she's got any material proof, any irrefutable contact that can confirm her story, validate her case. Has she talked to anyone about it? No she hasn't; all she has is the memory drive (hidden in her boot, but she doesn't tell him). She leaves his office, dejected. In the carpark, she is met by smart dressed goons who firmly invite her to get in a big car "for a friendly talk, nothing to worry about".

Her ominous but polite host, an elegant old man (think Christopher Plummer in "the X Files"), tells her that she has been under suspicion ever since the incident (Chasky was filmed bumping into her on internal CCTV: he plays the incident on the car’s DVD player). She has been followed all the while: the company has footage of her entering their -private and confidential- facility this evening. How did she manage that, they want to know. Since she has not been given access to their private departments and has not been invited by any employee ... has she? Legally speaking, she finds herself in a difficult situation, does she not? She is aware of the trespassing charge they can level at her now and at any time in the future should they wish to do so, isn't she ? What a shame it would be to ruin one's budding career by blowing it at the first opportunity and would she care for some Sherry? He asks her again to explain how she got in. She refuses to answer in order to protect her source, she explains on journalistic ethical grounds. Very well, the distinguished man answers. She is taken back to her car at the paper's headquarters. He hopes she will think it over and reconsider; otherwise.... The beautiful vehicle drives off.

Lucy gets in her car and exits the car-park, but changes her mind. She goes back to her editor upstairs ("Sorry to disturb you again Sir..." "-Huh? Lucy?? Yes, what is it again?!") and tells him what has just happened. She takes out the drive and shows it to him; declares herself more determined than ever to blow the whistle on FantaZ. The editor's face changes instantly: "A-ha!" He presses a button, locks the door, and thanks her. "At last. Marvelous, simply marvelous. Perfect, Lucy, you are most welcome my child. Didn't take too much did it?" She freezes, startled: "-?? ...What do you mean?" He admits to working for FantaZ.Inc.. She's been rumbled, and is now providing them with the smoking gun they have been suspecting existed all along and have been looking for. She knocks him out with a lamp; fights her way out. She unlocks the door. She is almost out of the building. She stabs the elevator buttons.

The elevator door finally opens, only to confront her with the usual expressionless suited company goons. They easily overpower her, drug her unconscious.

She wakes up in hospital. After a while, still in her nightie (i.e. vulnerable), she is taken to a conference room filled with elegant old men, including the one she already met: "Ah miss Ruhrer, what an expected pleasure to see you again; no need to stand up dear, or at least try to sit up if you can... Feeling a bit woozy, are we?" They thank her for her cooperation in bringing a trifling, annoying incident to a speedy resolution and congratulate her for her fighting spirit ("Poor David, he needed three stitches on his forehead!"). He announces that, as a reward, she will be granted a whole year of Eden ...sadly with no return to consciousness at the end, tss tss... She tries to get up but can't. They explain calmly that they can get her to sign every document needed now that she is under their control and can persuade the witnesses legally required for her admission, so there is no need to fight what has already been decided.

The gentleman points out a few home truths in a seducing voice (cf. "1984"'s torturer): everything she's ever wished for... every dream she's ever entertained such as saving the world, exposing injustice... It can all be hers now, thanks to the Eden treatment; and who would deny oneself one's most precious dreams? Why not welcome this unique opportunity calmly? Let's face it (changing tone here) after all, she hasn't made it professionally... she’s been sold out by her boss... she’s unmarried... gets pushed over in the street by yobs... who will miss her? And what exactly will she herself miss in a world that -as she has just discovered- is fast becoming FantaZ's playground: people are literally queuing up to relinquish their all-too-human life in exchange for a mighty fix. The man goes on, playing on her fears and insecurities: who would believe her anyway? Even if she managed to get the truth out, who would listen? In the thirties, nobody wanted to hear about the Nazi death camps. The American government simply wouldn't listen to the refugees' testimonies. She is clearly fighting a losing battle: the authorities are in on it (the camera reveals the identity of the big wigs in attendance as it pans across the audience). Individuals have given up on their responsibilities, humanity, destiny, personalities -all in search of escapism. Eden is total TV. It's the ultimate trip (slight chuckle at his pun here). Technological progress, as the Unabomber correctly predicted and warned against, always wins in the end: once something is possible, it will be enforced. And this, with or without people's consent. He gets quite lyrical as he pontificates / preaches, whereas she goes from numbness through terror to shock to realisation to (etc.).

Pretending to pass out, she is taken back apparently unconscious to her room. But, not so groggy now, she surprises her nurse busy untying her to lay her on the bed. She throws her wheelchair in his legs; slides down the stairs handrail; climbs out of a window left half-open in the corridor downstairs. The rain reviving her and making her more alert, she tiptoes along the edge, turns the corner; jumps onto a truck leaving the building a couple of floors below.

At the next bridge, she dives into the river. All muddy, she steals some clothes off a mannequin by the door in a shop and does a runner. She gets changed in a back-street. Thus attired (in a fairly nice suit), she travels to the local TV station (where she might be known by the receptionist who greets her: "Hey Lucy, having a bad hair day?" "-Nah, just a bird's idea of fun"). She washes up quickly in the ladies room; takes the elevator; invades a live chat-show where she jumps on stage and proceeds to tell all and sundry about FantaZ. As the studio security rush to overcome her, she breaks the bottle of water on the table and holds it to the chat-show host's throat, holding him hostage. She then addresses the audience and the cameras and records her testimony, spilling the beans on FantaZ. The End.

...or is it? As we think it is (freeze-frame image for twenty seconds, appropriate music starts), the image and sound go off, and the same nurses from the start of the film reappear. "Right, that's it... she wanted to be a hero or something, wanted to save the world eh -Ah don't we all... -Journalist, I think she was...". They methodically switch off the various pieces of equipment by the side of her bed and wander off, pushing their trolley. The camera pans off to the window and show the landscape out there: a spotless and deserted town bathed in a bright orange light. 

End credits.

 

Comments. Lucy mustn't actually physically suffer during the film, so that the induced euphoria imperative is respected. The final dramatic twist accounts for the cheap clichés piling up throughout the story: plucky loner fighting injustice, dramatic escapes, stereotypical baddies and so on. What we see happen is in fact all in her imagination: recreating too many B-movies, which allows for possible in-jokes, references to existing movies to be inserted at one's heart content (in a “Scream” type referential fun).

Dichotomies body / mind; reality / escapism; responsible woman / corrupt men, etc.. A Brave New World peopled by willing zombies. The society it takes place in: dirty and rainy à la "Seven".

If possible, the actress should neither be too pretty or too well-dressed -hence her fantasies of being an object of admiration on a professional or personal level. She could also become more glamorous as film goes on: bearing in mind what we witness is how Lucy sees herself in her mind's eye. Use of subjective camera-work (inside corridors or chase scenes) as we see the world / story through her eyes.

Possible deliberate mistake: in a scene right at the end (that is to say, after the possible cut-off point when she appeared to faint at the end of the corporation), she doesn't cast a shadow or a reflection in a mirror (subtle hint to indicate that she may not be for real).

FantaZ's building: slick, white, ultra-modern. Concept of government questioned: who decides for us? How much do we delegate to the powers-that-be for "the common good"?

Casting: someone like Reese Witherspoon (note: this was first written in 2001).

Abstract: The near, bleak future. A dare-devil young female journalist uncovers the terrible secret behind a company that offers virtual pleasure to terminal, sacrificial, patients in exchange for the use and disposal of their bodies. Spectacular twist at the end.

Earlier, more developed version with dialogue. 

A violent sexual fantasy, shown in a POV subjective camera, to a loud soundtrack. The character is making love to a beautiful girl, then finds himself in a speeding car, shooting zombies coming at him from both sides of the street and and mowing them down; another beauty strokes his hair, assuring him that "you're the best, baby".

Then image/sound suddenly go out. Blank screen. Voice-over: "Well, that's his lot done" - cut to two male nurses leaning over a ultra-modern hospital bed where a male body is lying still, wired in all directions, white noise in the background. They methodically switch equipment off and move on to the next booth.

Opening credits.

Somewhere, in a cab: a young woman is talking to somebody on her phone. "Right, right, yes, I know, I'm late, yes, but you know me eh... sure, right, of course I'm pissed off about it too! My first big assignment and I'm already blowing it, my lovely editor won't be best pleased about it -the old fart. When? well... the conference is supposed to start in... five minutes exactly; I can make it in fifteen, I suppose; hopefully, they'll be late too, but you know FantaZ., that's a mean arsed corporation if I know one! Not that I 'been there them yet, yes. Big assignment, told you, major assignment. Hmm.. yeah... look, we're approaching now, I've gottago, I'll call you some time eh? To tell you how it went, ooh I can't wait to actually get in their palace, bye!"

She arrives and is admitted within a ultra-modern, shiny white, official looking building; she passes a couple of security checks. The close-up on her journalist's card shows us her name, and rank: Valentine Kerner. She is finally welcomed to the FantaZ.Inc.'s public relations general assembly annual report, taken to an amphitheatre. Bimbo usherette "Please follow me, this way to the oratorium."

Val: "Has the talk actually started?

Usherette: "I believe so, miss" She lets her in a plush amphitheatre, where other journalists grasp notes, and listen to a man on the podium.

The speaker at the pulpit, a distinguished, unctuous kind of weasel, has started talking, and he raises an eyebrow as she makes her entrance. Trying to look inconspicuous, she makes herself small, tiptoes to the back where she finds a seat.

Smart suave speaker: "As everyone could see at the time, the market of organ transplants, in dire need of audacious reforms, was spiraling out of control. I'll refer you to the High Commissioner's report on organ transplant black market pages 25 to 28. Genetic material, of course, was all the more imperative to find if the ten-year State project were to take off and solve our national problem. As a result, three years ago, Fanta Z. launched -with the government's permission, and under its utmost vigilant fool-proof control- its ground-breaking -some even called it "revolutionary" (self-satisfied pause)- exchange scheme named "Eden".

Allow me a little confidence: for a while, we considered calling it "Midas" -but this might have been a bit premature; in retrospect, we could have, in the light of the scheme's eventual amazing success.

Thanks to Eden, clinics now have access to the much welcome supply of organs, genes, and blood cells needed to save patients. As you know, our audacious scheme was not introduced without polemics: the idea of exchanging patients' complete control and disposal of their body left some with ethical dilemmas. We took care of the dilemmas, and we answered them.

Our patients -and I would like to insist on the term "patient"- are electronically, constantly entertained for a whole year of total induced bliss; the fantasies imagined by their brains are enacted unimpended  -as our chart now shows. The patients' bodies, meanwhile, are contributing to organ/DNA transplant, medicine experiments, controlled tests, and so on. But, let me repeat and make this clear, since some ill-informed extremists might like to pretend otherwise, our patients do not feel a thing. They do not feel a thing, as their brains' pleasure centres are the only areas activated, their spinal receptors having been totally neutralized -as shown on this simulation projected on the screen. There you see...

Of course, the added bonus afforded by Eden was the chance to make use of the hardened, irredeemable criminals that have gradually clogged up our penitential system (sigh). Thanks to Eden, these society rejects have been able to be put to good use, should they wish to do so of their own will: I'll refer you to the legal details necessary to complete the patients' release form, page 36. To our surprise, we found that the number of applicants actually exceeded our wildest expectations, by 52 %. 52 %, no small margin is it?

Some people laughed when the company introduced that scheme, some radicals (smile here) criticised it harshly, claiming it would breach ethical codes .... Well, here is Eden's first assessment, that should put pay to their sterile objections: (positive figures appear on the chart). Besides, I would like to remind everyone that every single medical progress in history has been, at the time of its introduction, denounced as witchcraft, unethical, madness, hare-brained scheme, science-fiction, utopia, conspiracy, and so on.

But let's take some questions, now! I am sure you are dying to know more about Eden -and I understand your interest: it is not every decade that such an amazing step in medical history is made."

Reporter: "If I get you right, I see in your report that you include prisoners as subjects of your er... scheme. Is it true that you recruit your patients amongst criminals then?"

Spokesman: "At FantaZ.Inc., we don't see things this way. Everyone is very welcome to become a patient, no matter what hey have done, no matter what creed, what walk of life, what social origin... What we do need to ascertain is the availability of their genetic material. The rest if of no concern to us."

Reporter: "So you do recruit criminals then?"

Spokesman: "As I said, FantaZ does not discriminate and, therefore, in the interest of science research and the vital necessity of organ transplants, we do welcome any application. I think this answers your question."

Reporter 2: "Why only one year ? I mean, the impressive state of your technology surely enables you to maintain your patients in this state for much longer..."

Spokesman: "Very good question. FantaZ only enforces one-year treatments, as the patients' bodies will start to deteriorate irredeemably after that, given the treatment the patient may be subjected to in the meantime. This is a trademark FantaZ clause, a safety precaution we make double sure is guaranteed, so that genetic reliability can be assured. I would like to take this opportunity to remind you that, as a matter of fact, people in a coma can be actually maintained alive for years. At FantaZ, we don't want to take any chances. Besides, we absolutely want to stay on the safe side, being only too respectful of The Law."

Reporter 3: "Can you remind us of FantaZ's position on ethics again?"

Spokesman: "Certainly, all ethical issues have been totally cleared with the authorities; I'll refer the audience to our much documented brochure that our lovely assistants must have handed you at the entrance."

Lucy rummages through her overcoat and bag to fish it out.

Reporter 4: "How can you make sure the patients only experience pleasure, and no pain?"

Spokesman: "Quite simply; as I explained and am quite happy to make perfectly clear once more, the patients' brain centres are constantly monitored, all pain receptors are neutralized, and their ectoplasmic beta waves are activated. Like so... I have a graph to show you... where is the slide? Ah, here it is. "

Reporter 4:"One thing I don't understand, why not extend this... pleasure activation device to the rest of humanity?"

Spokesman: "Aha, good point. Because that would precisely be unethical: to control someone is to deny them their free will; FantaZ. Incorporated does not believe in taking away patients' free will. Everyone here has to sign a release form, assisted by two witnesses.

Also, think of the consequences... nobody would do any work anymore! This would mean the end to the human race as we know it: once the patient has been "energised", there can no be no coming back; no coming back at all. So some could call it a terminal process.  Well it is a terminal process. Our patients give us the right to make constructive use of their organism. Finally, and for a simple reason, ultimately for physical reasons: in order to achieve the appropriate Eden level of brain activation, the energy and blood normally devoted to the patients' limbs has to be diverted. … His members may therefore get “under-stimulated” atrophy."

"In effect, they're turned into zombies, then!" Lucy remarks to herself.

She goes through the brochure as the spokesman answers queries, and raises her hand: "Excuse me, but looking at your charts, I note that four fifths of your patients" (she has trouble with the word) "are men..."

Spokesman: "Yes... "

Lucy: "Is it because they are more hedonistic, less in touch with the real world out there?"

The smug spokesman (briefly unsettled by her unpredicted question) answers patronisingly: "Well, that certainly is an original angle! The answer is, Miss ...I don't know. I honestly wouldn't care to draw any conclusion from this amusing fact. No, men are no more uninterested in society than women, this would probably sound like a very sexist comment to make, if I may so!" All men present laugh.

"But joking aside, I think we need to stress the importance of remaining on the right track here, and if possible try to avoid falling for the "politically correct"(smirk here) assumptions that fanatical human rights lobbies have tried to advance against our scrupulously monitored medical scheme. Let's be clear: backward, Luddite thinking will lead you nowhere."

At this point, a man rises from his seat, shakes his fist, and shouts a few (silly) slogans, acting crazily and aggressively: "You murderers, you fascists! Organ traffickers, you'll burn in hell, shame on you Nazis, you gonna get yours, you monsters you witches, you gonna get yours, just you wait"

The security intervene and eject him cleanly.

The speaker throws his hand in the air: "See? What did I tell you, how sad, how terribly sad... On behalf of FantaZ. Incorporated, I would like to apologise for this regrettable interruption, tss...

And I would like to reiterate this point: history conclusively shows that the medical profession has always availed itself of bodies, always, and that backward thinking hecklers have never been able to stop medical progress. Religious issues, ideological creeds are all very well and good -and FantaZ respects each and every single one of them- but they must not interfere with science. FantaZ.Inc., as our report clearly shows -and this young man could do worse than to consult it at some point- FantaZ has une-qui-vocally proved its responsible attitude. Thank you, and good bye."

End of self-satisfied press conference. He leaves and journalists finish their cups of coffee / croissants, raise themselves out of their seats.

Throughout the Q. and A. session: more and more frequently, longer and longer cuts to a nervous man being followed down plush corridors by smart dressed men. He jumps stairs; switches lifts; loses his pursuers. He eventually ends up in the press room where he sits near Lucy who, as she was late, had found herself a seat at the back. The timing of this sequence coincides with the end of the conference.

Lucy gets up to leave. The man, whom the goons haven't caught up with, bumps into her, and discreetly slips something inside her jacket pocket. They exchange apologies. His pursuers turn up, and he runs away. Intrigued, she follows him down the corridor, and sees him getting cornered by the big men (same type of suit as the security earlier). She comes closer.

At that point, a hand lands on her shoulder, and a big man invites her, politely but firmly, to leave :"Nothing to see here, dear little madam, nothing at all; I believe you got lost; now if you please, the exit is this way, you got your bearings wrong, easy mistake to make, ha ha ..."He half-pushes her, she is escorted out of the premises.

Lucy travels back home: the town is rough, dirty, grey, bleak, it's raining. A bit shaken, she slips in a puddle, and nearly loses the USB stick. In the street, a grunting man in a hurry who pays no attention to her (staring at his mobile phone) crashes into her. The pavement is caked in mud, with constant dirty rain from a grey sky.

Lucy gets home; takes off her dirty jacket, which she throws it on the laundry pile. She lives in a crummy flat; no message on her answerphone awaits her. She sighs, snacks on comfort food; gets down to work on her article.

The next day, she takes her jacket to the cleaners; the bored man at the launderette asks her : "Yes, whatcanIforyou?"

Lucy: "Hello, could you clean this jacket please, I'm afraid I got pushed into the mud and"

Cleaner: "Have you checked the pockets?"

Lucy: "Er... yes of course. Of course. I never carry anything on me anyway, because of the pickpockets these days, you know how they"

He absent-mindedly nods, but still goes through her pockets briefly; discovers the fugitive's memory stick.

Cleaner: "Huh. Whass this then? Zit yours?"

Lucy, surprised: "Er... never seen it, no." She blushes, ashamed to have been found lying.

Sighing, the cleaner throws the disk into a bin; he takes away the overcoat round the back. Lucy takes a look at the disk, frowns, and picks it up as an afterthought.

Later that evening at home, she plays the stick on her laptop. The man appears, dressed in a white coat, in a lab.

"To whoever is watching this, please pay attention, this message is of the utmost importance. I repeat, this is a question of life and death. My name is Grigor Chasky, I work for FantaZ Incorporated, where I am chief medical development conceptor.

An initial enthusiastic contributor to the Eden project, I have since discovered some very disturbing facts. Don't believe their claims! They're lying!

I have discovered that, contrary to what they say, FantaZ do not keep the bodies for a whole year, they do not: they use them as fast as possible, as quickly as they can! They don't keep them like they claim to the general public, I've had my doubts for a while... and I can confirm: all they want is to maximize profit, they strip the bodies of all organs as fast as possible, and they don't give their patients -patients!- their whole year of doped-up virtual bliss. They are falsifying their records, they are lying to the public!

Take the prisoners on the death row, for instance, doesn't it bother you, to see so many? FantaZ is plundering the death rows! I've seen the records and it's scary!"

Lucy is watching, half-interested but sceptical. She sighs, deeply, and eating more crisps, mutters: "Yeah, right..." as the video plays along.

Back to the video:

"...and I haven't , but that's not all; I know it's hard to accept this, but Army patients in a coma do go unaccounted for! Please consult the listings I have compiled, you'll see for yourself: we're talking systematic abductions here! Also FantaZ's claims of not being able to grant their scheme to everyone, that's utter bullshit ! Of course they can -and already do: activation of the brain is not lethal and doesn't have to be! It doesn't have to be, and I should know, cos I attended trial tests! I tell you, FantaZ ARE secretly sharing their invention with the authorities in return for the license to dispose of the bodies! They are! Anyone with enough money and connection can get entertained. With no fatal physical consequence in return. We're talking massive corruption here, massive. And I want the truth to be known.

I think I'm already being under suspicion, this is why you're watching this. I have included documents to substantiate my claims, you'll see -as for me... I fear my time is up, my account has been breached, I have proof of that. Should anything happen to me, please bring this to public attention, something must be done to stop these vampires!"

Lucy, watching the message, mutters to herself: "Is this a joke..."

Technical details follow on the screen: numbers and listings flash by. Lucy taps a few keys. She comes across a file: "key-code for bodies disposal unit -ultra confidential". She types: the message reads: "digits 3-5-8-1."

Lucy decides to investigate: "Now, that sounds exciting. Hmm... hoping this is for real. If it is, then... Phew, this could be it!". Looks at more documents on her screen, invisible to us. She phones her friend:

"Anna, it's me. Now, listen, call me back when you can, I think I'm on a big one, no shit, major scoop! The FantaZ job, remember ? Well I may have found something on them, something huge... Can't tell you any more than that but.. could be the big break, the big break I just need, call me back when you can, bye!"

"Now, don't get ahead of yourself" she tells herself "think, girl, think: let's try to play this right..."

In her newspaper building, the next day. She approaches her editor. He is clearly engaged in something important at his desk, she knocks on his half-open door: "Sir ?"

"Yes...?" (barking)

"Sir, I may have something you would be interested in, regarding FantaZ..."

"FantaZ? what's it got to do with you, love?"

"Well Sir, if you remember I was sent to cover their report, the other day...?"

"Did you? So maybe you did then -oh yes, I remember, you did and... what have you got?"

"Not much yet, Sir, but I have a very good feeling about it, very good, I just loved their report, loved it, and I thought that I could follow it up with a lead I have..."

"A lead? Really?" (nonplussed)

"Oh yes, an excellent one too, very promising..."

"Well go ahead if that's the case, write us something up, sure, why not.. Now close the door, there's a good girl, I'd like to be able to get on with my work if you don't mind..."

She drives to the bodies disposal unit: in a bleak industrial part of town. "OK...this is it, dr. Chasky." She parks and walks up to an intimidating gate; punches a few numbers in the entry code box. The heavy door opens. She finds herself in a long corridor, half-way between a factory and a hospital (electric noise on the soundtrack). Nobody is to be seen anywhere, and she inspects several rooms. In the "exit" unit, she comes across batches of "Out Patients" boxes ready to be loaded into containers. She lifts the lid of one and backs up, horrified by the small and (hidden) sight inside; then another one, and another one. "There's nothing left !" she exclaims, and takes out a Dictaphone:

"10h15 inside the "Out Patients" unit, the five cadavers I have witnessed are almost totally looted of all their members, with only the barest minimum required to keep the patients alive".

Meanwhile, as she inspects the industrial coffins, an employee creeps up behind. He eyes what she's been checking over her shoulder. As she turns round, she discovers him and jumps: "Ah!!!"

He laughs: "Ha, ha! Jumpy, are we? not need to be, my dear... You ' alright?"

Lucy: "Sure, sure, I'm fine" she answers, hiding her Dictaphone inside her pocket "Just a bit surprised is all, otherwise I'm fine, thank you"

Employee: "Good, good... we don't want to another stiff on our hands now, do we? Now miss, if I can just ask you for some ID if you please, you do know this is a zone reserved for shipping personnel and shipping personnel only don't you?"

She flashes a print-out from the stick, and this seems to convince him. "Ah. That's fine. So, miss, you 'into anatomy, I take it? Interested in corpses eh, eh!"

Lucy: "Oh no, not really, I was just... Listen, I was just noticing, there doesn't seem to be an awful lot remaining though, is there? Apart from the spine..."

Employee, chatting her up: "Yep, that's right, not a lot left, you know how the boys upstairs behave... they can't help themselves! They see a nice liver, zzzzip! A nice thigh, out with it! You must have heard of old Mercks... fast worker. Fast worker, king of the scalpel. Mind you, body stripping goes with the territory, doesn't it? You should know, being a Level Three yourself... You guys can't really blame us for making your job easier..."

Takes her to a batch of corpses. "Now take a look at this, little lady. See? This bit here is all the poor bastards need to stay alive". Tugs at something unseen. “Booing, booing! Feel awe in the presence of your maker, motherfucker!”

She feels a bit queasy. He laughs at her : "No, seriously, take a good look. Shriveled up is it not?"

She feels almost nauseous, and stutters: "Er, thanks, thank you, that's... that's very impressive indeed and, er... most instructive; thank you again, but... I have to go now!"

She leaves clutching her mouth, followed by the man's laugh: “You Levels Three are all the same, it's OK for yous in your nice laundered scrubs, but you don't wanna know about the killing floor!”

She leaves the facility (as shown through a CCTV camera that follows her every movement), and breathes hard outside in the night for a while. "Hmm... that wasn't too conclusive, though..." She takes out her Dictaphone: “Need to check with Chasky and the company charter about extent of damage allowed."

Back home, she checks numbers on a screen, dials them. Answerphone message: "Hello, this is Dr. Chasky. I can't speak to you right now, but please leave a message." She hangs up. As she leaves the room, her phone rings. She picks up: "Hello? This is Dr. Chasky's office. We believe you have just tried to reach us?”

Lucy: "Er... yes."

Voice: "Well good evening madam, but I'm afraid we have some sad news for you, some very sad news. Are you a relative or a close friend of Dr. Chasky?"

Lucy: "Er... not really but.. yes, yes in a way I am -what happened?"

Voice: "Oh miss, I'm afraid there has been an accident, a terrible accident. I have the regret to inform you that Dr. Chasky has passed away, he's had a car accident."

Lucy: "Car accident? When?"

Voice: "This afternoon miss, terrible accident, Dr. Chasky's car hit a gas station delivery truck. He didn't survive the shock. I can assure you that he didn't suffer though: his car instantly exploded."

Lucy: "But that's terrible !"

Voice: "Yes it is, miss, terrible, and may I ask who's"

Lucy hangs up in shock. She paces up and down her room, thinking hard, muttering "Jesus..." under her breath; then grabs her coat, half-puts it on; changes her mind again, clicking her tongue ("Nah... not a good idea"); looks at her computer screen; then turns back ("What the hell!"), checks her pockets, and leaves her flat.

She goes back to the FantaZ building and enters another unit, typing in a different code.

It's a less industrial looking place this time: more like a hospital, antiseptic, impersonal. She walks to an elevator, and consults the floor chart: she finds "recent arrivals" on the first floor. Gets there. The place is eerily empty of any staff.

She inspects the ward, going through its multiple booths (eerie music, electronic beep beeps). Finally she stops and gags: the body in the bed is Chasky's, plugged in, but to nothing more than a basic life support machine. Lifting the sheet, she discovers one arm of his has been cut off. Lifting his eyelids, she discovers that his pupils have been taken too (shock sight of empty eye sockets). She hears noise in the corridor behind the ward-door behind her, and takes refuge in the next booth. Draws the curtain, hides under the bed. Two nurses pass by:

nurse 1: "'that the one? Liver at five and double-kidney to follow... Mercks's gonna love him!"

nurse 2: "Nice specimen too, looks pretty healthy"

She hides for a while, her hand clasped to her mouth in horror; sneaks out of the building. A bit of crisp choreography here, involving passing by guards looking the other way, walking under CCTV cameras rotating just at the time, and exiting through doors held for her or opened by staff walking off unconcernedly.

She slumps at her wheel; massages her forehead "Right, right... concentrate..." She starts the car, and drives up to her paper's building.

She walks up to her editor office, his light is on; he's -as always- working at his desk, tie undone, drinking coffee and smoking; a bottle of whisky out of the drawer.

Lucy: "Sir? Sir, excuse me, it's Lucy Rohrer."

Editor: "Yes? Yes what is it? Ah, it's you. Well... what are you doing here at this time of night? anything important for me? Well you'd better cos' I'm not having the best day of my life right now!"

Lucy: "Well, Sir, as a matter of fact, yes, I think I have a proper scoop!"

Editor  "Scoop? Really? Haven't heard that word in a while... So you've got a story lass? now you're talking, go on, sit down..."

Lucy: "Well what happened is, I have -I had- a bona fide informer inside FantaZ who contacted me with regards to some seriously disturbing stuff going on there -major stuff, too: dynamite. He alleged that patients don't last a year, in fact they get stripped of everything of value as fast as possible, the treatment is not deadly as is claimed, the dreamland treatment is in fact rented out to rich patients and"

Editor, every now and then, as she speaks: "Oh yes? Go on, I'm listening... hmm... fancy that...hmm... hmm... I'll stop you right here. Have heard it all before. From the Peaceniks."

Lucy: "No, no, this time it's different, my source is a top scientist working there, totally legit, he was heavily involved in the project from the day go, but then freaked out and contacted me with the goods. It's all hush hush understandably, the authorities are covering up cos' they're in on it -he claims they have access to the treatment as a favour, just imagine: the thing's a total trip!

Anyways, he gave me pass-codes for the doors, so I went there, I went to see for myself. To be fair, my first visit wasn't too conclusive BUT -but I did witness that all bodies are indeed clean right stripped of all organs. Anyway, he's dead now; my informer? He's dead now: I know cos' I tried to reach him a few hours ago and I got this woman on the phone who told me he had crashed his car into a petrol station or something -but that's not true! That's not true, cos I went back to FantaZ and I saw him, I saw his corpse, Sir: he wasn't burnt at all, he's on a life machine waiting to get scalped for organs, I heard them talk (some nurses, they were)."

Editor: "Hmm... right, right... Is that so” (all the while)

“So let me recap what you're telling me here: FantaZ are a corporate bunch of liars who want to maximise their heavy investment and use cadavers -Why, this comes as a complete surprise to me! Wake up Lucy girl, wake UP, it's big business we're talking about, of course FantaZ are in it for the money : they would always make the most out of their guinea pigs, wouldn't they!

Girl, which planet ' you from? Also let me get this straight: your informer... are you actually suggesting his employers murdered him? Is it what you're saying?"

Lucy: "Well, no, not exactly, but.."

Editor: "But what? Have you got any proof, any witness to validate your case? Did you tape any phone call, do you have any confirmation anywhere of the circumstances of his death, a coroner's report maybe, or a police record treating it as suspicious?”

Lucy: "No."

Editor: "There you go. Your conspiracy theorist died. Made a lot of accusations, each one more spectacular than the other. Then he got zipped one way or another. And you call that a scoop. A scoop, my little friend, is something you need to back up. A scoop is not some fantasy accusations against a major company that can probably afford the best lawyers in the country.

Let's imagine for a second that your man got plugged in as you said he did... let's go with your startling discovery that he got plugged in on his fantasy mind trip..." Gets up and walks to the window, points the dreadful scenery outside (complete with car alarms and police sirens on the soundtrack). "There are worse fates in this present world." pause "And you haven't any corroborating evidence."

Lucy: "What if we get a warrant to go and search the promises"

Editor: "OK, that's it, I've heard enough! Warrant indeed! Go back home girl, and write it all down if you feel you're onto something real. Get down all the details you can remember and bring me the whole piece tomorrow, I promise I'll take a look at it. 'Promise I'll let you know if there's any meat there for us to go on. In the meantime, you are clutching at ghosts here. A warrant to search FantaZ's premises...? Are you for real? Sorry to break it to you but you're not Edward Snowden. I'm done with you now."

Shows her the door. "Thank you and as I said, get it all down on paper, give me facts and figures. Facts and figures, girl -not hearsay and impressions. 'Night."

Dejected, she leaves his office, lost in her thoughts. As she is about to climb in her car in the underground car-park, a big limousine pulls over. An black electric window slides down. Voice inside: "Good evening, miss Rohrer; may I impose upon you at this ungodly hour and ask for the pleasure of your company?"

She backs off, scared.

Voice: "Nothing to worry about, I assure you. Just a friendly talk, if you please. My intentions are purely honourable ...and might shed some light on your present dilemma."

She climbs in. Her host is the spokesman from the start of the film.

Host: "Good evening miss Rohrer, at last we meet. Let me tell you that we have followed your recent adventurous progress with great interest. You do understand that I speak to you on behalf of FantaZ, do you not? Well we have been monitoring your movements ever since your unplanned encounter with doctor Chasky. Here, let me show you"

He switches on a video screen: internal CCTV footage comes on, showing Chasky in the corridors. Cut to Lucy's face: she gulps hard. Then he is shown bumping into her ...but the scene is shot from the other side and from above (i.e. does not show the memory drive swapping). She slightly relaxes.

"We do take employee surveillance very seriously as you can see; any incident gets recorded. And you, my dear, have been followed ever since that most curious encounter. I must say, you haven't disappointed. You have been remarkably active these last few hours -like this afternoon, for instance." Footage of her entering the out-patients area. "Or this evening."  Footage of her cruising the patients ward, hiding under a bed, and leaving through different corridors. "Ha! Most amusing, daggers and cloaks, daggers and cloaks."

More seriously: "What we do not know though, and what you would be so kind as to clarify, is how you managed. How you managed to get access to our private facilities. Since you have not been invited to our departments, protected by corporate and State law, and have not been accompanied by any employee of ours -have you? No you haven't. And this is why you now find yourself -which you may not fully appreciate- you now find yourself in a difficult situation.

Let me make you aware of the trespassing charges we can level at you now and at any time in the future should we wish to. FantaZ is a powerful corporation, with full support from the State. Full support, if you catch my drift. We do not take kindly to trespassers and spies -be they political or industrial. And espionage it most certainly looks like, as any court will agree. What a shame it would be to ruin your budding career by blowing it at the first opportunity... Oh, and would you care for some Sherry?" He pours her a tiny glass. "I will ask you one more time, miss Rohrer. How did you gain access? Who let you in? It cannot be Dr. Chasky, for a reason I can not go over now. "

Lucy says nothing.

He clicks his tongue, annoyed. "Very well. To be fair, I didn't expect you to come clean so easily. (This is to your credit, I suppose...) This is why we are prepared to let you think our offer over for a few hours, and we shall call again to know your answer in the morning. We do hope you will prove more cooperative. As I explained, we have extensive footage of your less than legal incursions in our State sanctioned private properties. Extensive."

The big car takes them back to the paper's underground parking. "You have eight hours to contact us, starting from now. In seven hours, we shall start instigating a legal process with immediate effect. We do hope you will reconsider and change your mind. Have a good night, miss Rohrer."

She climbs off. The limousine drives away.

Lucy gets in her car and exits the car-park, but changes her mind. She does a U-turn, drives back to the paper's building, and takes the lift back upstairs. The floor is deserted but for the editor's office. She knocks at his open door.

Lucy: "Ahem ! Sorry to disturb you again, Sir..."

Editor on the phone: "Huh? Lucy ?? Yes, what is it again?!"

Lucy: "I have some massive developments to report, Sir, massive: I've just been contacted by FantaZ."

Editor: "When, now?"

Lucy: "Yes Sir, right now, in the car-park after I left you, some FantaZ representative came to pick me up in a limousine."

Editor: "Pick you up ? Are you hurt, did they abduct you?"

Lucy: "No no, I am fine -they just wanted to talk, so they sent this big suit, he was quite the gentleman. They want to know how I got in, they have footage of me inside their buildings, turns out I've been followed all the time, but -get this- they don't seem to know about Chasky slipping me the stick with all the evidence!"

Editor: "Stick? What stick? You never told me of no stick!"

Lucy: "Chasky slipped me a memory drive with all the evidence, passcodes for the doors and more, they don't know about it, that's why they made me an offer: if I don't keep my mouth shut they'll prosecute me for trespassing and even industrial espionage -I mean, espionage... me... ha!"

Editor: "This changes everything, do you still have this stick? Where is it, in a safe place, did you leave it where they can't get at it?"

Lucy: "Aha! I'm not that stupid, no way, I keep it on me at all times: it contains all the codes"

Editor: "Let's have a look then! You've got it here??"

Lucy, fishing it out of her boot: "I do! Here it is, 'had it all along with me, and he didn't even know! He's got another thing coming now, they're done, that's it!"

Editor: "That – is – brilliant, let's have a look" he takes the stick "So this is it... this is the smoking gun. Anybody 'know about this, did you speak to anyone?"

Lucy: "No, didn't have time."

Editor, fiddling with the stick, fidgets in his seat, then gets up and crosses the room, casually: "Did you make any copy, any back up?"

Lucy, supremely confident: "No, this is it, the one and only. The Pulitzer Prize itself."

The editor is strangely silent. He crosses the room and locks the door. His face changes, and he breaks into a wicked smile. "At last... Gift-wrapped too. Great work. Great work Lucy, well done. It didn't take too much did it?"

She freezes, startled, changes colour: "?? What... do you mean...?"

Editor: "They've had our doubts I must admit they've had our doubts, Chasky's a traitor but he's not a complete fool, he would have left a proof, would do that, and he chose you. You of all people. (Ha!) Thank you Lucy, full credits for your investigative prowess. This stick... is all that's needed."

She stares at him, uncomprehending.

Editor: "You've been rumbled, silly goat. You've been rumbled and they didn't even have to spend any money to get his notes back. You handed it right back on a plate. Checkmate, game over. Now if you will excuse me, I have some associates to call..."

He dials a number on his phone ("Hello? It's me, yep, she had it all along and guess what, it is now in my possess") still blocking her exit.

Lucy scans the place in a panic, looking for a weapon; her eyes set on his stocky whisky bottle. She grabs it, swings it, and catches him on the side of his head. He drops the phone and fights back; she hits him again, he goes down for real this time. The door is locked though and she can't find the key; she throws a chair at the glass partition and jumps through it. She runs down the corridor, calls the lift ("Come on come one come on! ... Shit, the stick!") She runs back to the office, and grabs it from the man's hand. She runs back to the lift, gets back down to the car-park. As the elevator door opens, she is confronted by the expressionless company goons in their usual suit; They overpower her, inject her with a sedative.

She wakes up in hospital. Her vision is blurred, and after a while a nurse leans over her, appearing in her field of vision: "Ah here you are. " The nurse disappears from view and is heard phoning someone: "Sir? Sir, yes, she has regained consciousness ... this instant Sir ... very well, Sir, right away."

After a while, still in her nightie, she is taken through various corridors (neon lights flashing by over her head) to a plush conference room, filled with old elegant men, including the one she's already met.

He addresses her: "Ah miss Rohrer, what an expected pleasure to see you again. I won't offer you to take a seat, seeing that you are still momentarily incapacitated. Feeling a bit woozy, are we?" The assembled men eyeing her chuckle.

"Miss Rohrer. Thank you so much for your cooperation in bringing a trifling, annoying incident to a speedy end, I daresay everyone here has been most appreciative of your assistance. And congratulation for your fighting spirit -Poor David, needed six stitches on his forehead!

Still, this is where it gets serious. I'm afraid I've got some bad news -but some good ones as well. The bad news is, this is the end of the road for you my child. The good news is, FantaZ is quite happy to grant you a whole six months of Eden treatment. … Sadly with no return to consciousness at the end of, but. One can't have it all, I'm afraid; one can never have it all.” (says he, in an immaculate suit with a gold watch) “Still. Six months, that's five more than what patients usually get!"

She tries to get up and speak, but can't. "Do not tire yourself unduly Lucy. There is no point in that. You might wonder how we can manage to get you committed, well, your editor is quite able to gather a few signatures to that effect -including your phone friend Maria. Your only friend, if I may point out. Make no mistake, we can get anyone to sign any document required. Always have, always will. So there really is no need to resist or object to what has already been decided. Water?"

He pours her a glass. In a seducing voice:

"Look at it this way Lucy, everything you've ever wished for... every dream you've ever entertained... saving the world, exposing injustice, or just being the belle of the ball -It can all be yours now, courtesy of the Eden treatment. I will be yours, so why the long face? Why not embrace this unique opportunity calmly?

Let's face it" (changing tone) "after all, life hasn't been too kind on miss Rohrer. You're unrecognised professionally... betrayed by your boss... unmarried... pushed over in the street by yobs... with one only friend to speak of, who hardly ever returns your phone calls. What exactly will you miss Lucy, in a world that -as you have yourself ascertained- is fast becoming FantaZ's playground! People are simply queuing up to relinquish their all-too-human life in exchange for a mighty fix, queuing up! and if they don't, we can still get them -any which way we see fit.

Who would believe you, anyway? Even if you managed to get the truth out, who would listen? In the thirties, nobody wanted to hear about the Nazi death camps. In the nineties, nobody wanted to hear about the Serbian camps. The sweat-shops in Asia? Animal farming? Gold mining? Global warming? And so on and so forth. The truth is, you were always fighting a losing battle.

Eden is the present, Eden is the answer. Technological progress, as the Unabomber correctly predicted, always wins. And so do we. So do we. So make your peace, child, don't fight it; thank us instead for giving you the perfect way out, you will enjoy it, you have my word. And off you go now. A child somewhere will receive your kidney tomorrow. Another will get your corneas. You may never have had much but you have a good heart. It will be put to good use. Goodnight Lucy."

Lucy pretends to pass out, and she is taken back unconscious to her room. Not so groggy, she suddenly jumps up, taking her escort by surprise; throws her wheelchair into the nurse's legs; he hits his head against a table. She runs down the corridor, takes the service stairs; slides down the stairs handrail; climbs out of a window left half-open in the corridor downstairs. The (constant) rain makes her more alert. She breathes hard, tiptoes along the edge, turns the corner; jumps down onto a truck leaving the building a couple of floors below. She lands on its trailer. In the background, a pursuer is seen shaking a fist at the sky, a black silhouette against a lit window.

She dives into a river at the next bridge, floats down. All muddy, she steals some clothes off a mannequin by the door in a shop; does a runner. She gets dressed in a side-street. Thus attired (in a fairly nice suit), she travels to the local TV station. The receptionist recognises her and greets her: "Hey Lucy, long time no see, if you could sign here... thank you. But dear dear, having a bad hair day?"

Lucy: "Bird fell down on my head."

She washes up quickly in the ladies room; takes the elevator, enters a studio with a red "Silence, Live Recording" sign over the door. A live chat-show is in progress with a panel on stage and a whooping audience. She makes her way the stage, in the middle of a discussion on oral sex. A security guard lifts an eyebrow at her. Then she jumps on stage and grabs a mike:

"Now listen up everybody, I've got some major revelations to make and I want you to listen and listen hard, this is no joke, I just come back from being kidnapped by FantaZ -These guys are lying, they are killing people"

The studio security rush on stage. But she smashes the water jug on the table; jumps on the main host; holds a shard to his throat: "Back off, I say back off! I ain't joking, don't test me. Don't test me I said! Let me talk, I'got revelations, important revelations you have no idea"

The host, waving the guards away: "It's OK it's OK sweetie, whatever you say, why don't you tell us then, no need to get testy, I believe you, tell the whole world, just don't make any sudden movement is that a deal?"

Lucy: "Too right it is! People need to know, this is important! Listen to me everyone, are the cameras still rolling, we still on air?"

Camera-man: "Yes miss, we are, wouldn't miss on the action..."

Lucy: "OK, listen up everyone, my name is Lucy Rohrer and I am an investigative reporter. I have infiltrated the FantaZ corporation and what I have discovered will blow you out of your socks. These people are murderers, and this is what they actually do within their building..."

Cut to editing room, serious faces, fingers hovering over the mixing desk.

Producer: “What do we do? Shall we...”

Senior producer: “No wait. Let's see what she has to say... This had better be good, let's catch ourselves a major story for once.”

Back to Lucy. She catches her breath, and addresses the camera:

“What I'm about to tell you will shock you -but I can prove my accusation.”

Image freeze, music starts. The end.

...or is it ? As we think it is (freeze frame image for twenty seconds, appropriate music starts), the image and sound go off, and the same nurses from the start of the film reappear.

"Right, that's it... end of the line, girl!"

"A bird eh, not many around here is there..."

"A journalist, I think she was... Another one who probably wanted to play hero and save the world or something -don't we all!"

They switch off the equipment by the side of her bed methodically and push their trolley away. The camera pans off to the window to show the landscape outside: a spotless and deserted town bathed in a bright orange light.

End credits. (written 2001)

"The Long Wait"

Film starts with action scene: brief, clinical murder of an informant. Unglamorous and indicative of the protagonist's trade: he is a spy. He is then given orders for another mission: he is to go and wait for contact at a highway "Little Chef" restaurant-hotel, however long this will take. He is to "act normal", as he will probably be watched by another agency who may well try to get in touch with whoever will introduce himself / herself to him. "Mr. Martin" does so, and checks in at the complex. Month of May: the place is almost empty. He starts his long wait.

Opening credits. (A good twenty minutes into the film.)

A few weeks elapse. Martin invents a story according to which he is a writer and needs some quiet to work. Tells the staff that he just got separated from his wife and is staying here for a while. (His motives evolve as well as his attitude; at first, quite friendly then increasingly silent, sullen.) This takes place in the middle of nowhere and the hotel seems to get emptier by the week -which reduces the number of possibilities regarding his contact. Or has his contact already left before he got a chance to introduce himself, he wonders… Every time a car parks outside for a quick meal, he pops down to have a coffee and assess the situation: it often turns out to be a family on their way somewhere (shown moaning about the size of the chips, the bill, and so on). Martin doesn't even know who to expect. Lots of furtive glances through ajar doors, half-opened curtains, reflections in mirrors / back of glasses, and so on. Observes people passing through: manic clubbers; travel sales rep. Trying it on the waitress, and so on. A lone truck driver turns up for a meal, and the agent engages him for a chat. Ambiguity arises as the other guy mistakes his approach for a homosexual advance. Martin gets increasingly suspicious about the staff: they start to look (are ?) strange: maybe his contact is one of them? Any little detail gets increasingly mulled over. What if the rival service he was warned against has planted its own agents amongst the staff?

It's June now, and Martin grows despondent, feels forsaken. He comes across a mini-camera in his room: he has been under surveillance, possibly from the start! Confused, he can't quite remember if he checked that particular spot in his room, surely he must have...? "Act normal", he was told. …And what if he was himself the subject of the mission? Was it a test all along? Has he failed? Passed?

He then regains composure and considers the situation from this new angle: now suspects being spied on from all directions, 24/7. Keeps up the game for a while longer. It's July now and still no word from his superiors. Personnel turn-over: a cook or waiter disappears, to be replaced by someone else who won’t / can’t explain what happened to his predecessor (he or she may genuinely not know)... Martin enters into a relationship with the (so-so) waitress: after all, that's how a normal man would behave, he reckons… (while remaining vigilant about her possible, secret identity). He starts writing a novel for real, which may reflect on his condition. Summer has passed: yellow end of afternoons, light on pale walls and ceiling. The waitress finally leaves (to go back to University). He still doesn't know what to do, and ends up calling his superiors (throughout the film, we will have seen him repeatedly hesitating in front of the phone). No answer. (Maybe something has happened, in-between, which would account for his superior's silence?)

He decides to pack up. Waits some more on his bed. Leaves. As he makes it back home, he gets executed as a traitor in a scene reminiscent of the first one (matching framing / camera movement, and so on, as can be confirmed on second viewing).

Notes: use of voice-over or not? or not too much. Need for great acting, then. In this case-scenario, whole sections of the movie could be silent. I believe it would be counter-productive to feature scenes of "outsiders" keeping an eye on him on a surveillance TV screen; it would destroy the tension (would introduce extra dimension: distantiation).

Setting inspired by the "Alan Partridge" series. Continuous ambiguity: what do the staff play at? Could they be in on it from the start and this has been a deliberate incarcerating operation? On the other hand, if these people have nothing to do with the agency, it is understandable that they should wonder about his presence and start to scrutinise him / “look at (him) in a funny way”. They may tease him on occasion -which, in turn, adds to his paranoia: sense of being tested. The truth is never revealed; it could be either of these two possibilities ...or something else altogether.

Plot: possible echo of Auster's NYC trilogy, "Truman Show", "le Désert des Tartares", (early Polanski?), and "The Prisoner". Martin could be seen as an allegory of Man vs. God, playing his part obediently without any understanding of his ultimate fate. Note that "Martin" is, statistically, the most common name in France.

This blueprint of a story lends itself to all sorts of variations including humorous elements. Tension maintained by constant white noise (neon light, TV fog after the programs end), ambient music. Grand angle / "fish eye" camera: to magnify the details in proportion to him (cf. Kieslowski's "Thou Shall Not Kill"). Conveying the feeling of wasting one’s summer: not to be staged during a gloomy winter. Sense of time passing as shown by the trees, the tints and angles of sunlight on the room’s walls and ceiling and so on. Empty commercial cheerfulness of corporate staff, smiley kitsch advertising, fake plastic trees, generic (i.e. identical and entirely replaceable) products such as soap bars or cans of food products: vista of the stock room where the undistinguishable items are piled up precisely.

Soundtrack: "maybe we forgot the meaning of the word individual"-a House. "I could have been a lot of things, one thing I know, and I will always be, I am the greatest." The The “The Twilight Hour”. 

Copyright Loig Allix.-Thivend 1999.

"The Butterfly's Heartbeat Over Sahara And The Nikkon Index" or “Room Full Of Mirrors –Blackmail In Progress” or “Who Can You Trust”

Small town, summer time, hot sweaty night. A man can't sleep, turns around in his bed: his wife's side is empty. He grunts. Gets up, goes downstairs to get a drink in the kitchen; trips on the way. The kitchen light doesn't work; he sighs; sees, through the back window, a car pulling over nearby with its lights switched off. He stares at it, clearly recognises it. A woman gets out of the car and, after a sly look at the house, unequivocally blows a saucy kiss at the obscured driver. In a panic, the man runs upstairs back to bed, stubs his toe in the process; pretends to be asleep as the woman comes in and slips into bed discreetly. Two minutes later, she elbows him in the back: "Don't hog all the sheet."

Opening credits.

"Merlin" has just discovered that his wife "Laura" is having an affair. He is a rather fat man, prone to scratching his face. The previous night's car reappears to pick up Laura (an attractive, even if hard faced woman) in the morning: it's her boss, the town's rich sleazy businessman, "Murdock". (His personality to depend on the actor cast for the part: maybe manic, maybe self-conceited -in any case smarmy, arrogant). He drives a 4 X 4 expensive SUV. He may also be a big man, better dressed than unshaved Merlin. Merlin seems to be in two minds about the motorist: represses an initial gesture of anger, clinching his fists, then waves a vague "Hello" at him, curtly returned by a (personalised, extravagant?) horn tune. Laura reminds Merlin that Murdock is giving her a lift to work since -she adds bitterly- their car is at the garage for repair. She instructs him that  "he could he give 'em a bell sometime and wake them up!" The scene establishes Merlin as a loser.  After taking out the trash in a haze, tripping up every now and then, cutting himself as he shaves, Merlin puts on a uniform, goes to work: he is a security guard at the local bank / town shopping centre.

Repeated shots of him not doing much, standing guard, looking bored, signing forms... A baby throws up on him.

Back home, late at night, clutching a beer, he catches the Coen Bros' "The Barber" on the telly. His wife has gone to bed "with a headache". Suddenly, he studies the screen more intently: "Well I’ll be damned..." he murmurs, and without waiting for the film to finish, goes downstairs to the cellar. Writes an anonymous letter. Meanwhile, Murdock, in his own home, flicks through the channels, notices a film on; the phone rings; he answers it. Long conversation starts: "Ah, it's you, great, we needed to talk about... you know... eh eh! Well, I'been thinking... I have a proposition for you..." He switches on his video-recorder to tape the film, and resumes his conversation. Back to Merlin, who goes through his letter; message along the line of "I know you are sleeping with Laura Dovan. Prepare $ 20,000 or else… Instructions will follow, signed: Lux." His wife turns up, asks him what on earth he's up to at this ungodly hour. "Nothing, hon’", he hurriedly hides the letter inside his uniform.

The next day, Murdock discovers the letter in his car (slipped through a window left ajar). His face turns red; he swears a lot, looks around in a panic, then scratches his chin; clearly weighs his options...

Later that day, Merlin gets an unexpected visit from Murdock in the commercial centre bathroom. Murdock closes the door, with a finger on his lips checks whether anyone is in any cubicle; Merlin tenses up, uncertain of what is afoot. Murdock proceeds to tell him that he is being blackmailed and requests his help. He explains that "his line of business being what it is", he admits to "simplifying" his business’s transactions and "cutting a few corners" every now and then. Explains that if the mysterious blackmailer has his way, his business risks collapsing and with it, most of the local community -including Laura's job. He also makes it very clear that Laura herself (his secretary) is involved in the company's shenanigans and that, therefore, his (Merlin’s) already precarious situation is at stake. In fact, he accuses Laura of cooking the books. "This is serious, very serious; this guy is not kidding. I can't take any risk." Merlin, taken aback by Murdock's offer, doesn't quite know how to react. Then Murdock offers him the same amount of money asked ($20,000) ...to kill the blackmailer, stressing that this amount would go a long way towards helping poor man Merlin's living conditions (for ex. getting the car fixed). "Er... Can I see the letter?" "No, it's too sensitive." Merlin considers the offer: he would win the money either way and won’t have to kill anyone (who doesn't exist). So he accepts. And cheekily promises to bring proof of the deed.

Both men next meet, each of them buying a tape recorder in the local supermarket: "Oh, what a coincidence... -Oh, hi, er... fancy seeing you here, Laura needed one, she must have told you…?"

Merlin then concocts a letter with details for the money drop; delivers it to Murdock; Murdock brings it straight back to him (visually in through one door of a building and out of the other at the back); instructs him to set off for the money exchange spot and lay there in wait for the blackmailer to turn up. Merlin (who’s just about made it back to his place after dropping his own message at Murdock’s office) pretends to go and hide there until such (execution) time.

Rubbing his hands and waiting for Merlin's phone-call, Murdock settles down, pours himself a whisky; half-heartedly starts watching the taped Coens film to pass the time. He receives a couple of phone-calls during the course of the film. But, as the film plays on, we see his face suddenly change and light up (has he understood that he's being taken for a ride?). Then he receives the call from Merlin (with the news that he's offed the mysterious “Lux”).

Murdock pays Merlin off as promised (the next day). Merlin can't quite believe his luck …but then the screen splits to reveal a shot of Murdock equally ecstatic. Merlin arrives home to discover another anonymous letter: this time from another blackmailer who claims to be a neighbour who has witnessed Lux's murder and threatens to denounce him to the police unless he (Merlin) coughs up £ 25,000. Merlin, who knows that no murder has taken place but can't reveal it, can only guess who this new fictitious character must be: it has to be Murdock, being the only one who knew about their secret. But what if it is someone else...? He reckons he has to pay up: has lost both ways. (And slips on dog shit on the way out, to compound his misery.)

Murdock surveys the new money drop with binoculars; comes and collects it, he has got his money back -with interest too! (Song on the radio: Lou Reed "What A Perfect Day".)

Both men check their tape recorders: they both have proof of the other man's guilt when each of them taped the phone-call during which Murdock asked about the hit and Merlin confirmed it. Merlin: "Just you wait..."

A few days later, someone off-camera writes yet another anonymous letter (update: email?). A new fictitious shady character (mafia hit-man or bent bail hunter): "I have been following Lux for a while now. Problem is, he seems to have disappeared off the face of the earth after going up to meet you." (Crucially, we the audience are not able to see who is behind this new twist.) The author of the message accuses the addressee of knowing and hiding the missing man's whereabouts, whom he claims had run into debt / was running away from him. The author states that he knows Lux had something on Murdock and that, maybe, Murdock killed him as a consequence of being leaned on. The letter is signed "Hello". The letter goes into an envelope destined to Murdock. Next shot pans back from the letter to the hand holding it to reveal Murdock reading it, open-mouthed with shock. (Remember that Murdock believes a murder took place.) "Oh shit!!" He now finds himself in deeper trouble, suspecting organised crime involvement ("Is that the Mob? Oh God, what have I done?!").

Meanwhile, Merlin too gets a message from the new blackmailer Hello (whom he imagines to be Murdock), continuing his charade: "Jesus, the more they have the more they want, what’s he after now!!” The new character asks for $ 20,000 in exchange for silence about Lux's murder: "But… I already paid!! He can't play the same trick twice! That's it, he's gone too far, all gloves off!!" Merlin is determined not to pay a single dollar more: his wife is already giving him hell about the car repair invoice that hasn't been settled, and she still has to get lifts to work or -worse- use public transport. In his defence, he claims that some of the car money is temporarily engaged "somewhere else", a vague excuse that couldn't sound any phonier if he tried. Naturally Laura harps at him, points out that he can never get anything right, he can never sort things out once and for all, she can never count on him being decisive for once, etc. "OK, OK!" tries he to weather the storm; he takes refuge in his cellar. He fishes out his tape and replays the bit documenting Murdock's involvement.

Split screen: Murdock is playing his tape in his own house. The excerpt featured concerns Melvin confirming he's killed Lux.

Merlin pockets the tape; smiles to himself the way he did at the start of the film. "Fancy that... just you wait, pal". His new self-assurance surprises his wife during a phone conversation ("Are you alright ? I can hear you grin from here... you' been at the bottle again??" "-No no sweety pie, I assure you" "Don't you sweety-pie me!" "-Oops, OK. My apologies.") Convinced that Hello is Murdock, he plans to bring a copy of the tape to the rendez-vous instead of the money asked, intending to turn the table and get his £. 25,000 back + another 5,000 for good measure.

Both men then await further instructions from Hello: they check their mailboxes, answerphones, car windows, lunchboxes, under their doormats. But no new message arrives. The two men meet by chance as they celebrate Laura' s birthday at the local bar / pub. She can't help noticing how preoccupied both men are; they don’t congratulate her enough to her liking: "Come on you sad lot, you two look like you've seen a ghost or somethin', whass the matter with you, can't you do anything for me properly for once?" Claiming an early start the next day, Murdock leaves after a while, soon followed by Merlin who doesn't trust him (they both keep an eye on each other throughout the scene). Laura stays, determined to have a ball: "And now let's have some proper fun!" (to the tune of The Pogues “Sally McLennan”)

The next day, Hello summons Merlin and Murdock to a secluded place for delivery of their respective ransoms: a quarry, or a deserted garage (depending on the setting: could be a wood-cutting factory, as if in "Twin Peaks" territory; or even an abandoned casino). Merlin arrives early, or so he thinks. But he is jumped on by Murdock, who turned up even earlier and had lain hidden for hours. In the ensuing fight / chase taking place in half-darkness, he fires at Merlin, imagining him to be a professional hit-man. (Use of split screen from both men's points of view: they're not able to make out who the other one is, in the half-light and dust kicked about.)

Murdock finally recognises Merlin, he is amazed; he understands that he has been played: once (original blackmail about his affair), twice (no Lux ever got killed), and thrice (by this new Hello character, whose demands are based on the previous lie). A fight or shoot-out between the two men follows, in which they both die (caused by Merlin, ever the clumsy one, falling over). As they lay dying side by side, they realise -albeit too late- that neither of them is the new deus ex machine: they confess to each other their actions and -doing so- realise that "So... you're not Hello??" -"Of course not! What was that about… this is so fucked up, if not me if not you... who then!!"

Merlin dies without learning Hello's identity. As Murdock awaits his turn, he sees someone off-camera: "Oh?! And what ‘you doing here?? I’ve been shot, please help me ... -Oh my God, don't tell me! It isn't you is it ? You, you can't be... Hello??" The camera reveals Hello's identity: Laura.

 A sequence of flashbacks charting the story shows her always in the vicinity of their respective blackmails, and being fobbed off with blatantly hasty / clumsy attempts at cover-ups ("Just what exactly are you doing ?" -Oh, nothing dear, nothing, just... sorting out some papers").

She looks down at the two dead men. Fade to black.

But this a false ending. As she goes through their suitcases, Laura discovers what we the audience knew: neither man has brought any money along ("I don't believe this... I do not believe this... you lying duplicitous son of a bitch! Let me down even beyond the grave!"). Her skint husband only has a tape she has no use for ("what the fuck!!") and paper clippings as banknotes; Murdock has brought a gun ...and the same sort of banknote shaped paper clippings.

Choices: Laura could end the film this way as a "femme fatale", victorious in her scheme to break free of both men. Or she too could have lost with no loot to boast of. Effing and blinding, she realises that she won't be able to get her hands on the £ 25,000. The police then turn up, alerted by the shoot-out …or tipped by a neighbour intrigued by all the double-dealings going on (more flashbacks charting Laura’s own suspicious behaviour, witnessed in turn by someone else: a pillar of the small, quiet community).

Comments. Options for the setting of the story, maybe in an office (communication via emails) or in a small town (where they rent p.o. boxes at the local post office). What would be funny would be for all the characters to independently / unconsciously  copy each other's methodology. I like the structural idea of the protagonists repeating each other's actions, each time bringing a new personal twist that plays in fact into the hands of the other party, and ultimately brings about their downfall: the more they try to be clever, the more they reveal themselves to their opponent / to Laura / to the possible final witness.

Murdock subplot: he may be telling the truth (hitherto unknown to Merlin) regarding his fraudulent affairs; Laura may indeed be aware of his financial misdeeds, which would account for her own take, her interest in the matter, i.e. by getting rid of her boss she can lay the blame entirely on him (possible sub-plot here, showing her re-arranging the accounts under his one and only name).

All of the ending's elements have to be present from the start and subtly introduced / developed gradually: no illogical twist, no outside intervention from an outsider must be allowed in the ever more complex plot. Sense of dead-end life / job: the protagonists are stuck with their already written destiny in a stultifying hole they can't escape. All of their deeds (such as the affair, the blackmails, the murders) stem from within this small town.

It would be fun to include more references to the Coens' "Barber, The Man Who Wasn't There".

Casting: Scarlett Johansson as Laura.

Abstract: small town USA, a blackmail leads to a reverse one, then a third one in an ever more complicated game of brinkmanship that will culminate in a (double) final twist. A tribute to "The Man Who Wasn't There".

”Your Bestest Friends” or "Your House Is My House" "Welcome To The Neighbourhood"

Postcard suburban street complete with white fences, stereotypical middle-aged middle-class people saluting each other. No young people in sight, only one kid on his bike who delivers newspapers, chucking them at the houses as he rides along. He stops at one house though, and respectfully inserts the paper inside the mail box with a cautious look at the curtained door; then resumes his round, looking over his shoulder.

Opening credits.

A young couple originally from a small town, "Matt" and "Bridget", arrive in their noisy, smoky Beetle car overflowing with boxes. They stop by a small house and gaily take down the "for sale" sign; they stage a mock duel, and Matt pretends to stab his wife with it; the estate agent hasn't arrived yet. Curtain twitching all round: the neighbours look at them, but no-one comes forward. The street is deserted, the couple start to crack jokes uneasily, waiting for the man with the key to turn up. He finally arrives, all flustered and apologetic. They visit the house that –so they reveal- they have bought over the phone, being such an amazing offer, Matt simply couldn't pass it over. They marvel at the furniture / the rooms inside, and Bridget remarks how barely credible it would have been for anyone in their right mind to give up this house -That is, if its owners hadn't been forced to move abroad. Matt exchanges looks with the estate agent at this point. More chit-chat. In a brief discussion while Bridget is out of the room, the two men joke about the real reason why the house is available, which Bridget hasn't been told so that "she doesn't freak out": the previous owner has been in fact committed to a psychiatric hospital to their "incredible good luck" (wink). In equally cheeky mood, Matt replies  "Bonkers, can you believe that, poor bastard!" Such will never be his fate, no Siree, no chance of that.  (and any audience with more than five films to their account will twitch at this juncture)

The couple unpack, settle in. A supposedly exciting new job awaits Matt (that's why they moved to this big city from their little native town); he sets off for his first day at the office nervously: snaps a tie as he knots it for the third time.

Bridget unpacks, feels lonely, goes out to explore the local scene: off to the local supermarket, launderette, and park. Every local is polite, but reserved. More curtain twitching following her around. The shopkeepers act friendly enough, but she can’t help sensing general reluctance. That evening (in their not yet entirely furnished house, amongst the still unpacked boxes) she jokes about their attitude as compared to the one prevalent in their hometown. They laugh about the false "have a nice day" automatisms, but their laughter is slightly tinted with nostalgia. They hug and reflect: the small town feel, its friendliness, its easy access to everyone and everything -all of this is gone now, and they have to get on with it, embrace the change. Yes, they must accept the fact that things here may take a while to adjust to. Matt, sensing his wife's unhappiness, suggests that they buy a dog to keep her company. Bridget cheers up at the idea. They kiss. Besides, he reminds her, as everyone knows and according to every Disney movie, walking a dog is the perfect way to break the ice and make people's acquaintance. Bridget remarks about the locals' habit of peering through their curtains, and she suggests they do the same. Accordingly inspecting the street from beyond their own window, the couple notice that a big house, at the end of the drive, remains unoccupied: it’s the house featured in the opening scene.

Later that night, Bridget notices some traffic on the road, and goes upstairs to check what's happening: a number of people converge upon that house, in front of which a big car has now parked.

The next morning, Matt can't start his car. The young man curses fate, doesn't want to be late for work when he's just starting there, punches the steering wheel. All white dressed "Big Ben" (real name Anthony Gary, about 50) appears from behind the raised hood, scaring Matt at first: "Hulloh there" / "- ?!!" / "I couldn't help noticing you seem to be having trouble starting your engine". Lending a hand and telling Matt (who can’t see behind the raised hood) to rev the engine, he sorts the car out. The man explains that he would have welcomed them earlier, but he's just come back from a jaunt somewhere. He lives in the big house at the end of the close. Matt doesn't have much time to chat, thanks him, and leaves for work. The older man, oozing good manners, seems a bit taken aback by his haste, but waves him goodbye as the car speeds off in the distance.

That evening, the couple go and choose a nice dog for Bridget: not too big, not too old, but not too young either. They find what they're looking for, a quiet one named "Solo", buy it, and bring it back home. They play with it for a while, then leave him to sleep in the garage. Matt inspects the back garden and remarks that he will need to build Solo a kennel.

One evening back from work, Matt spots Big Ben, engaged in a conversation with someone of a humble appearance in the street. He pulls over, and apologises for his hasty departure the other day; explains his situation (new job, new house, new town): he has so much to do, such as sorting out the back garden that has remained neglected for a while, rebuilding the shed gone to pieces.

The next Saturday afternoon, Big Ben turns up unexpectedly as the couple are playing with Solo, bringing with him some tools for re-doing the garden shed, which Matt had casually mentioned. (Less than handy) Matt had forgotten this detail which he didn't really care about, but accepts nonetheless ("Er... now I'll have to turn carpenter or something! Oh well..."). He introduces Big Ben to Bridget who mentions that, by an extraordinary coincidence "-Not likely, there's no such thing as coincidences!" replies Matt jokingly- she has already met Big Ben's wife (by the name of "Marge") this very day, at the local supermarket. Big Ben explains that he can't stay, is needed back home, must dash, otherwise his wife will give him hell, being the bossy type ha ha ha.

On the Wednesday, Matt comes back home, tired and edgy, to discover his wife and Marge chatting away in his living room. Even though she notices his apparent fatigue (he yawns, and intimates to his wife that he is in no mood for a social evening), Marge suggests that they repair to her place for dinner: "Really, Benny should have brought it up already, where are his manners!" Even though Matt would like to go to bed early, he dares not contradict his wife who, seemingly unaware of his repeated hints, has already accepted with enthusiasm. He gets changed upstairs with a big sigh, and they walk up to Ben's and Marge's house. It is swanky inside. Ben explains that he has been a consultant for some big, waste management company for years; would rather not bore them with the details... The dinner goes well. Marge's cooking and Ben's manners put them to shame, Matt jokes. "Bah, don't mention it!" reply his hosts, genially. Eventually, Matt manages to get Bridget's attention: he wants to go. They walk back home, Bridget is very impressed with the older couple; Matt is worn out and only wants to go to sleep. Bridget wants to have sex that night, but he doesn't share her mood and turns her down.

Days go by, we see the young couple being greeted in the street by the older couple as well as by other neighbours who are now taking a shine to them -to Matt's surprise: "Who was that?" "-Don't know, never met him, but let's be polite shall we...". Matt realises after a while how popular his couple has become, now that Ben has publicly introduced them around ("Come here Juan, I want you to meet my great friend Matt Johnson, and his lovely wife Bridget"). Everyone looks up to Big Ben, and seems to take their cue from what the man says: he is seen holding court at the local restaurant / café; Bridget observes that some people go and visit him in fairly fine expensive cars ...as compared to their old banger.

One evening, the couple witness a strange incident. It is still summer and most windows are open. They hear an argument raging in the street, concerning a tree whose branches must be cropped: the two neighbours involved are arguing loudly over their fence about whose responsibility the trimming is. Matt and Bridget laugh at the rather silly discussion, Bridget remarks that this is the first ever incident to happen in this sedate street. Curious and sniggering, they decide to take Solo for a walk, so that they can get closer to the row and listen better (i.e. voyeurism of their own). They do so, pretend to walk the dog, walking towards the two old men who dare each other with their wives in attendance, hands on their hips. Then Big Ben’s car turns up, dashes to the scene. He summons them to come over, seated behind the wheel (on the opposite side). He berates them vehemently, jabbing his finger at them (Matt and Bridget can't quite catch what he's saying despite their best efforts). Big Ben departs. The two men look sheepish, and go back indoors. Matt finds it weird, Bridget finds it funny ("Did you see that? Like a head-teacher or what? Some people really need to be taught good manners -Good on Big Ben!") The couple find themselves suddenly conspicuously alone in the street; feel a chill, aware of the curtain-twitchers' eyes on them; return to their house after ineffectually pretending to be still walking the dog.

Always perfectly well-mannered and friendly Big Ben (who does live some distance up the close, though) invites himself to their place more and more often, sometimes turning up in the evening with a video to lend, a useful phone number, some advice on whose doctor to go to ("don't go to Sherburski, he's no good, you'll regret this if you do"), making himself useful in all sorts of ways. Lends a hand here, gives advice there. One day, Bridget tells Ben that they consider going away for the weekend, back to their hometown which they admit feeling homesick about. Ben encourages them to do so by all means, and offers to look after the dog; assures them that he'll take good care of Solo personally.

Fun interlude: Matt and Bridget drive back to their hometown in their beat-up Beetle, playing loud music. They meet up with their childhood friends for a drunken evening which everyone enjoys tremendously. Asked about life in the big town, they tell their mates about this guy (“gentleman Big Ben"), always dressed up immaculately, his aura over the street that seems to be only populated by wealthy pensioners, and someone jokes that the man sounds like a Mafia Godfather. Bridget falls about laughing at this mention; Matt is smoking a joint at this point. Then someone mentions how this town's mayor, a Republican WASP, has just been caught fiddling expenses. Everyone rejoices at the corrupt politician's likely forthcoming comeuppance.

Later at night in bed, reflecting on the excellent evening they've just had, Matt drunkenly suggests that they should never have left, and maybe ought to come back, should things fail to work out "out there". But Bridget retorts that it's too late for that now, there's no turning back after going to such lengths to start all over again ("you can't turn back the clock"), he can't just start all over again every other year, he's got to take his chance this time, and knuckle down, work at it, not mess it up.

On their return to their new neighbourhood, the couple call round Ben's to fetch Solo. No answer. They walk back to their house, noticing the usual window surveillance from the old neighbours; laugh about it. Half an hour later. Matt is getting a drink at the kitchen, is startled by a sight: Ben is in their back garden, chaining Solo to its kennel. Jovial Ben explains that he was out, walking the dog, and came this way on the off-chance that they might be back; saw their car; let himself in. Bridget invites Ben in for a drink. Meanwhile, Matt spots something stuck to the dog's paw: coloured sand that can only come from another neighbour's back garden, as if the dog had been kept there instead of at Ben's. Matt shrugs his shoulder and keeps this thought to himself. Unbeknown to him though (the camera zooms to reveal that) Big Ben has been watching him through a window, and has noticed his examination of the dog's paw.

Another day. Matt discovers in the mail that he's been rejected for a credit card application: his credit is not good enough. This irritates him. He comes back home meaning to tell Bridget about it, only to find smart dressed Ben talking to her, on his sofa, with an arm around her shoulder ("There you see, my child, this is how we ...Oh, hello, Matt! Good evening to you."). Matt salutes him back a bit uneasily and goes upstairs, where he waits for his wife to join him (sits down, crosses his arms, taps his feet, paces the bedroom up and down, sits again, waits). But she stays downstairs, keeping company to Ben and laughing to his jokes to Matt’s increasing irritation. When she finally comes up to enquire what on earth he is doing up there to on his own instead of being civil to their guest, he starts to express his displeasure, which takes her by surprise and, in turn, irritates her. Whatever it is, she doesn't want to know; she was having a great time and he is now ruining her mood with his selfish attitude; she'd rather go back down talk to Ben thank you very much, and so she does.

The next day, Bridget goes to visit Marge. Marge remarks that they have become the best of friends, what with all the afternoons they have spent together. Marge is an expansive, cheerful, chubby cheeked woman. Over tea and biscuits, the young bride confides to Marge. She tells her about the fights she's been having with highly strung Matt as of late. The older woman reassures her: nothing to worry about, she should have met Big Ben when he was twenty, laughs about it, leaves it there. The two women discuss marriage, and Marge claims that, sadly, she never had any children; which prompts Bridget to admit that they are trying for a baby.

One afternoon, a storm is coming up. As she closes the windows against the wind and the rain with the sky turning dark, Bridget calls the dog up. The dog is nowhere to be seen. Neither does he bark: no reaction in the house or in the back garden. She calls again: where can he be? How weird.... She goes to investigate outside in the sudden violent rain, and finds the dog dead, his tongue hanging out, still chained to his kennel. Distraught, she phones her husband. It is sunny outside Matt's office windows. Matt is really busy right now and, against his will, has to take the call "from his wife, she says it's really urgent, very important". He happens to be in the middle of a presentation, surrounded by his superiors. Despite his upset at the tragic news, he can't afford to betray too much emotion in front of his colleagues who are waiting for him to resume his presentation. He can't handle the domestic matter as his wife tearingly implores him to, there is no way he can return home right now he explains to her curtly, and advises her not to handle the corpse, she ought to phone a vet, maybe call her friends Ben and Marge over for comfort if she has too -but he really can't talk right now, and hangs up. He turns back to face his colleague. His stern-faced boss enquires: "Anything the matter, Mathew? Any problem at home that requires your presence there…?" "-No, not at all Sir, everything's fine, everything's just fine."

On his return home in the evening, Matt hears that the dog died of a digestive problem: he must have eaten something bad. Bridget is cross with him, and he repeats that there was no way he could have dropped everything to dash back. Did Marge and Ben look after her, he asks. She says they did, and is grateful for them (pointedly): they, at least, were here when she needed someone. Matt throws his hands up in the air.

Another day. Matt is chatting amiably with a neighbour about the state of his car and the need for a replacement or a substitute… such as a motorbike... A motorbike in this street, why not, he ponders; after all he’s never seen any around. He makes an innocuous remark about Big Ben: "Bet the big man wouldn't like it much though, would he?" The other man blanches at this juncture, and gets all offended -but apparently about the motorbike ("Oh no, no, you don't want to be doing that young man, no motorbike in this area, oh no, this, er… motorbike idea, that’s out of order that"). The man brings the conversation to an end. Matt, baffled, presses him for an explanation, but the other man looks unnerved, even slipping in a puddle as he walks off. Matt insists "Is it something I said? ...about Big Ben maybe?" "-Don't be ridiculous, and good evening to you Sir!"

This troubles Matt, who reveals his growing misgivings about the strange stranglehold Ben seems to exert about everyone to Bridget. She doesn't share his doubts though, and stands up for Big Ben and Marge (she may even look a bit guilty: we haven't seen her keeping her husband abreast of her chats with Marge): "Darling, you're working too hard, all the stress of moving here and starting a new job, they must be getting to your head…". She points out that, without their support, settling down would have been much more difficult, especially considering the car trouble or the garden shed they found vandalised. Matt lifts an eyebrow at the mention of the car. He then drops the subject; she's probably right; they go to bed. He can't find sleep though and eventually (cautiously) gets up in the middle of the night; goes to inspect the car in the garage, checks the lock on the door: what if his car had been tampered with? "Hmm..." Unable to find any conclusive clue, he goes back to bed. Noise of an engine slowing down and pulling up outside.

Out of curiosity, Matt decides to find out why exactly the house's owner was put into care: he phones the estate agent. The slippery suave man tries to fob him off with evasive answers ("Why, you don't like the house anymore? Ha ha, don't tell me you're coming back on your word before settling your payments or something? Only joking, Sir, only joking!") and he gets nowhere. In the end, Matt goes and checks the municipal records on microfilm (2015 update: searches the Net). He discovers that the man stabbed his pregnant wife to death in an inexplicable act of insanity that had him committed for life. The wife was said to have considered abortion, which allegedly drove him to madness. Matt consults other records on the subject. He finds that the victim was discovered by a Mr. Gary, living at Ben's address, son of Anthony Gary. (Matt may or may not be aware of Marge's earlier claim). Driving back home (with appropriate oppressive music: travelling shot from inside the car in narcotic slow motion), Matt assesses the situation with new eyes. He notices how the parking space around Ben's house is (as always) clearly respected, especially in comparison to other parts of the streets, where double parking even occurs.

Matt broaches the subject of maybe getting a motorbike to Bridget (especially if the car can't be relied on 100 %). She replies that they would have to check with the local residents, and need to ask Big Ben. He explodes, to her stupefaction: what has Big Ben to do with it, or with everything? And, first of all, what kind of a name is that? Why does everyone comply and calls him "big"?! Even though initially unsettled by his reaction, Bridget opposes some very rational arguments, pacifying him as if he were stupid (important: her attitude must be fundamentally rational and easy to understand –She is anything but hysterical but, on the contrary, if one thinks about it, is perfectly justified and only offering common sense replies): there is no need to take that tone of voice, why doesn't he sit down, the reason why Ben was mentioned is because he is a pillar of this community; Matt just can't turn up somewhere and indulge in his personal fantasies with no concern for the welfare of the long-standing locals. But Matt is getting increasingly agitated, and her own tone changes in consequence. Big Ben is undeniably -and as Matt knows all too well- a popular figure around, in fact the most popular figure -but there's nothing wrong with being popular, who wouldn’t like to be? As a matter of fact, she wouldn’t  mind being popular herself instead of -let's say- being a loser who's lost his job and has to move towns. She doesn't even finish her sentence as Matt visibly blanches. He is stunned. Is she accusing him of being jealous, is that it ? Does she see him as a "loser"? She doesn't answer at once. He grabs his jacket, gets in the car, and drives off, past bemused benign old neighbours whom Bridget goes out to apologise to.

Driving furiously, he looks up on his phone addresses of friends to crash out at / phone numbers to call -but they all live away in his native town. He calls his aunt to vent his anger, explaining that things are not exactly how he expected them; he can't quite explain what's going on but, in answer to his aunt's worried questions about the state of his marriage, ends up pretending that, no, everything is fine with Bridget, yes, perfect, they're very happy, they just had a silly tiff of no consequence whatsoever, his present anger has nothing to do with her.

Driving around aimlessly, he ends up in a park, where he goes to sleep in his car, shivering. (Camera ominously circling the car, as if seen from a prowler point of view.)

He goes back home the next evening with a bunch of flowers; Bridget apologises as well; the couple make up; they make love. Lying in bed later, apparently reconciled, he mentions that they definitely need to work on having a child; she replies that this would be wonderful, a little one to parade and show to everyone in the close, the proof of their intention to stay here, wouldn't Marge be delighted when she tells her, she who never knew motherhood? Matt chokes: why should she tell Marge about their private life? What has the old bat got to with it? Silence. More silence. He asks Bridget in a strangled voice whether, in fact, she has discussed this subject with Marge. Bridget tenses up; replies that, yes, this is what women do, they talk about this sort of subject. Anything else she might have told them…? Matt demands to know. He breaks off their embrace, gets up, gets dressed as he talks. So does she, as she answers: so what if she did, isn't she allowed to make friends, what's wrong with that? What is so wrong about benefiting from advice and common sense? Their tone, at first tense (careful not to start a new quarrel) is steadily rising through the scene. "Hang on" he suddenly remembers reading about Marge's son; tells Bridget about his discovery. Bridget accuses him of lying, pure and simple. Then she questions his motives for going out and digging the dirt on the Garies, searching other people's business, and poking his nose in other people's lives. What kind of a behaviour is this? So what if they once had children that may have left since, or may have disgraced the family so their parents don't want to mention them, or maybe even died? They are both dressed up now, slamming doors, thundering downstairs to the kitchen. How can he be so ungrateful, after all they've done for them, what grudge does he hold against them, who does he think he is, and now he's making up things about,

then the door bell rings.

A mild-mannered, little old lady neighbour stands at the threshold, who humbly apologises: it's just that she thought she heard some noise... The couple hurriedly start to apologise. No no, she meant some noise in the garden between their houses, as if some animal –or somebody- were going through the rubbish bins. Matt reassures the old lady, grabs a kitchen knife, and goes out to investigate: suspense scene in the dark as he root around, but can’t find anything.

He comes back to reassure the benign old lady. But, after initial goofy smiles and mutual pledges of support in case of emergency, as the conversation turns to an endless exchange of good wishes, Matt gets suspicious: "Wait a minute, who put you up to this, how come you turn up at the precise moment we're having a serious talk?" The two women look at him, uncomprehending. He continues, getting more agitated: "What perfect timing, how simply perfect! You think I'm dumb, huh? Do you seriously imagine I would fall for it? Tell me lady, did you come here of your own accord, or...?" The old woman is getting fidgety by now, fiddling with her cardigan. Bridget, red with silent rage, rolls her eyes at him. Matt accuses the old woman of having been sent over to distract him by... he is unable to utter the dreaded name; Bridget does on his behalf : "Do you mean Big Ben? Is that the name you're looking for? Are you implying that Big Ben is behind this? Have you gone up another level and gone completely mad?" She too explodes, while at the same time trying to control her language and voice in front of their guest: How can he come up with such crazy, paranoid, accusations? "Out!" she chases him;  he should be ashamed of himself, coming up with "such bull" in front of this nice little lady, look at her, just look at her, isn’t she the picture of innocence? "Out! Now!!" "-Fine then!" Matt grabs his jacket; drives off again, shaking with fury.

He drives to the nearest bar; knocks back the drinks, telling all and sundry about how he's being persecuted by this guy Big Ben who thinks he's a big shot, he’s taking over his life, he’s messed with his car he has, and killed his dog -and so on, from bad to worse. The locals mumble some polite "sorry to hear, buddy / ah that’s too bad" of encouragement; generally let him get on with it. Matt drinks some more; becomes more and more abusive and accusatory. Fade to black.

Matt wakes up the next morning: in his bed, in his pyjamas, and with a serious hangover. Making his way down to the kitchen gingerly, he is met in the living room by Big Ben in person, seated, still, unblinking (think Hopkins in "The Silence Of The Lambs"). Ben informs him that "well-meaning people worried about him" contacted him (Big Ben) the night before, asking him to take Matt home from the drinking establishment where he was making such a dreadful racket. Which he naturally did, being a good neighbour. As for Bridget, she has gone ...to a quieter place for a while, in order to recuperate from the stress she's been subjected to lately. It mustn't be easy being a young couple he remarks, or moving to a new town. "But... what will my boss say?" (Matt is still in his trial period, after all.) Matt feels too unwell to start a fight with Big Ben, too stunned to oppose any arguments to his presence in his house; he can barely stand up. Ben pulls him a chair, and sits him down. No need to worry about that, Ben reassures him: the boss in question is a close acquaintance of his, all has been taken care of. Everything can be taken care of, with a little bit of good will. All Matt needs to do now is relax, recover from his temporary access of insanity -which we will never mention again, I am sure- ...and maube ought to reflect on the advantageous situation he finds himself in: a great house, a promising job, a beautiful wife... An advantageous situation not given to everyone, in this day and age. What a pity it would be to lose it all. Ben serves him some coffee, talking suavely all the while. He tells Matt how easy life could be in here / for him / for everyone, before he vanishes (stepping back silently off camera, behind Matt's back) leaving him to reflect, in silence, alone. After a while, shivering, scratching himself, Matt gets up; walks up unsteadily to the window to get some air: an elderly neighbour walks past, greets him cheerfully: "Good morning Matt, how are you?" Then another one, and another one, and another one.

Over at Marge's house, Bridget announces with a beatific smile that she is pregnant.

The End.

Comments: a political allegory about “benevolent”, dominating superpowers and their protection rackets over so-called satellite States. As ought to be the case with (intelligent) horror, nothing must ever be clear-cut, revealed, explained; the viewer must always have the choice between two solutions: Matt is either imagining things and over-exaggerating, or he's onto a genuine troubling conspiracy (which doesn’t need to involve death ray equipped sharks and hollowed out volcanoes). Some questions are left open: how exactly did the house's previous owner come to collapse mentally and kill his wife? Could he have been driven to it? Echoes of "sept morts sur ordonnance" (which I have never seen, in fact) / "the Shining". …And could it be that Matt took this guy's place at work as well?

Bridget must be opposing totally valid points: isn't this a case of Matt turning paranoid?

Names involved could be close, like "Dean" and "Danny" (cf. my own novel "The Rules"); vampiric Big Ben takes up more and more of Matt's space; for ex. sitting in Matt's favourite chair, maybe even on his bed at one stage. He could be a jovial and genuinely huge man (J. Goodman? the sadly missed J. Candy) or not so big, which would highlight the alarming nature of his nickname.

Another choice to make: Big Ben could starting lending stuff but as story goes on, borrows more and more for himself, taking advantage of the relation of trust engineered by his early acts of kindness (joke about communism: "give me your watch, and I'll give you the time"). Either that, or (cf. Fédeau "le Voyage de M. Perrichon") Ben actually grants others' submission to himself / ingratiates himself with them by gradually increasing his gratitude towards them via repeated requests for favours that make them feel useful and superior to him (cf. also the Neil Flanders's case in "the Simpsons”).

Casting: Edward Norton / the wonderful Bridget Fonda, of course / Jean-Hughes Anglade...

Soundtrack:  The-The's aptly named "Giant" ("The sun is high, and I'm surrounded by (sand) sin, as far as my eyes can see"); Bob Dylan "Most Of The Time".

Feel of the film: "Parents", "Rosemary's baby" (why is the elderly couple so keen on Bridget's pregnancy?), Landis's "The 'Burbs". The hero mustn't be vindicated in an unrealistic happy ending.

Abstract: a young couple, fresh from a small town, fall under the seductive spell of an increasingly nosey and interfering older couple who seem to have the whole sedate neighbourhood under their thumb. "Rosemary's Baby" meets "The Burbs" in this inter-generational psychological thriller.