She Divines Air

Corporation is king. War is life. Children of the dwindling populations of the world are the pawns of the two remaining sides of the human conflict. Is their discretion their own or company policy?

EXT. ROOFTOP - DAY

 

Sat with his back against the corner of a short wall, a heavyset BOY wearing a gas mask and clothed in a ragged blue shirt and khaki cargo pants stares at the ground.

 

The sun is beating down distorting the air just above the top of the wall.

 

Labored breathing through the gas mask can be heard for a few moments.  The boy rips off his mask.  His face is full of sweat and he breathes hard until his breathing becomes normal.  He looks at the mask with disdain and tosses it to his side.

 

The boy stands up and leans on the wall looking down to the streets below.  He picks up a pair of binoculars from the top of the wall and peers out with them into the distance.  The streets are empty and devoid of life.  In the distance he can see that the rooftops of some of the other buildings are occupied by other similarly dressed boys wearing gas masks.

 

A noise from one of the streets below catches the attention of the boy.  A GROUP OF MEN covered in dirt scurry across the street and make their way toward a pile of trash in an alley.

 

The boy reaches into his pocket pulling out a coin.

 

One of the men finds a piece of bread and a scuffle breaks out.  One man grabs the piece of bread from the other, knocking him down.  As he falls he knocks over a metal trashcan.  The noise of the metal hitting the ground echoes through the streets.

 

The boy flips his coin and catches it then looks across the street to the building closest to him.  A TALLER BOY is looking down at the men.  The taller boy points his finger at the scuffling men, then he picks up a radio transmitter.  His voice is heard booming through a loud speaker.  The boy flips his coin and catches it again.

 

                        TALLER BOY

             Citizens...show your identification!

 

The men stop fighting over the bread and look up. LAUGHTER spreads across the surrounding rooftops.  The men scatter.  The boy flips his coin, but drops it as he tries to catch it.  The other boys point down at the men with pen shaped devices. Blue dots appear on the fleeing men. The boy reaches down to pick up his coin. A BUZZING noise is heard. The coin suddenly slides toward the fleeing men.

 

All of the men are vaporized into dust by blue beams of light coming from sky high above the rooftops. The boy shakes his head as the other boys are in a chorus of celebration.

 

 

EXT. ROOFTOP - CITY - DUSK

 

The boy stares off into nothingness then blinks and refocuses his gaze. Sweat beads down his brow. He wipes his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt and unfolds his crossed legs to lean further back into the corner. He picks at his fingernails with his thumb then bites at his thumbnail.

 

He looks to his right as if he has heard something. He squints his eyes and looks intently in that direction. He smirks then looks down at his hands on his lap. His fingernails are all bitten down. There is a blue band around his wrist.  He covers it up with the cuff of his shirt.

 

He stretches his arms out then sits as straight as he can looking just over the wall to his left.  He surveys the area for a moment.  There is no one in sight.  He sighs, relaxes his body and looks down to the ground.

 

SHALLOW DEPTH OF FIELD

 

A large beetle crashes to the ground landing on its back a few feet away from the boy.  It moves its legs rapidly trying to upright itself.  The boy, biting his thumbnail looks over at the beetle.  He smirks, returns his hands to his lap and shakes his head looking away.

 

The beetle continues to wave its legs.

 

The boy looks back down to the ground in front of him.  His eyes slowly move back to the beetle.  He looks around his immediate surroundings ending his search to a nearby stick lying on the ground.  He looks back at the beetle.

 

He picks up the stick and reaches out with it toward the beetle.  The legs of the beetle grab onto the end of the stick.  He lifts the stick slowly high into the air.  The beetle flies away.  He cranes his neck to look behind him watching the beetle fly out of sight.

 

                             VOICE

                 You know, I don't know what to believe

                 anymore...

 

The boy whips his head back around seeing a GIRL, clothed in red fatigues with an assault rifle on her shoulder and a pistol in her belt a few feet away sitting on the wall to his right.  He quickly reaches into his pocket pulling out his own pencil shaped device.  He fumbles with it then engages its button.  A blue dot strikes the girl.  She purses her lips then shakes her head.

 

                             GIRL

                 ...most of the time, but when I am with

                 friends, I usually know what to believe.

                 By the way, I'm a kid, just like you, 

                 stupid.  You know your DFA satellites

                 can't do anything to me.

 

The boy widens his eyes, leans back and returns the pointer to his pocket.

 

                             GIRL

                 So...where was I?  Oh yes, but then

                 again my hopes and considerations at

                 the time shape and mold the certain

                 facets and derisions of the possibilities

                 of belief that I am now choosing, with

                 just a few realities in which I

                 can faithfully believe.

 

                 Say, for instance, I am watching a

                 boy sitting on a roof baring witness

                 to an entity experiencing obvious

                 tribulation.

 

                 After a few moments of reckoning, I see

                 him lift a finger in the offering of a

                 helping hand unfastening the tethering

                 grip of peril.

 

                 You see, now I wonder.  What is real?

 

                 Did this boy help the beetle simply to

                 cleanse his boredom?  Or did he do it

                 for some neonatal form of altruism?

 

                 See, this is what I am talking about

                 when, between friends, I choose the

                 reality in which to believe.  This may

                 sound strange, but its hardly unique.

                 Everybody does this all the time.

                 Well, at least they did.  You know

                 what I mean.

 

                 Nevertheless, pedigree does offer

                 opportunity.  You should try Red for

                 a change.

 

The boy blinks his eyes.

 

The girl pulls a clear plastic bottle full of red liquid out one of her pockets and tosses it too him.  He catches it and is taken aback by the gesture.  He shakes his head as if he has just come out of a vivid daydream.

 

                              GIRL

                 It sure is hot up here.  Say, what are

                 your numbers for the day?

 

                              BOY

                 Zero

 

The boy opens the bottle and takes a sip.

 

                              GIRL

                 Really?

 

The girl looks at him as if he were not telling the truth, tilts her head and squints her eyes.

 

                              GIRL

                 That's cool

 

She looks down at her shoes.

 

                              GIRL

                 You're like the boy from 'Lord of

                 the Flies,' never heart a fly, aren't

                 you?

 

She looks him in the eyes.

 

                              BOY

                 Well, yes I am

 

She tilts her head.  The boy picks a rock off the ground and rolls it around in his hands.

 

                              GIRL

                 You are familiar with that book?

 

                              BOY

                 Oh, yes I am...its about a boy whose

                 job it is to kill as many flies...

 

He widens his eyes looking down, pausing for a moment.  He looks at her.

 

                              BOY

                 ...as he can, but he never does,

                 he'd never hurt a fly.

 

He puts the rock back down and takes another sip from the bottle.  The girl smirks at him.

 

                              GIRL

                 Its good they are teaching you well

 

He looks at her silently.

 

                              GIRL

                 Have they taught you that knowledge is

                 a pattern, that life is a fractal, thought

                 is an illusion, reality is a perception,

                 ignorance is a disease, influence is a

                 weapon, hate is a pestilence, fear is a

                 God, time is a field, coincidence is a

                 joke, luck is a lawyer, existence is a

                 gift, desire is a possesion and that

                 possesions are a virus.

 

The boy has a puzzled look on his face.

 

                              GIRL

                 Have they taught you that the horizon

                 has shifted?  That there is still a

                 glimmering glimpse of merriment in the

                 distance through the watchful eye of

                 serendipity?  That, you brother, can

                 make a ripple in the water bringing

                 serenity just a little bit closer to

                 us all.

 

The boy half smiles then looks at the barrel sticking up from her back.

 

                              BOY

                  What's that?

 

                              GIRL

                  Oh, this

 

She looks back at her rifle.

 

                              GIRL

                  Its nothing, its a daisy maker

 

                              BOY

                  What's a daisy?

 

                              GIRL

                  Its a flower

 

                              BOY

                  What's a flower?

 

The girl frowns at him.

 

                              GIRL

                  Its a spiral at the end of a stick

 

                              BOY

                  Hold on a skirmish

 

The boy reaches deep into his pocket pulling out a black clothing patch.

 

                              BOY

                  I found this in one of the crates

                  down deep below the surface.  Nobody

                  knows what it is.  I think its a

                  bird holding one of those things

                  you are talking about.  A flower

 

He reaches out to hand the patch to the girl.  She looks side to side for a moment then takes it from him and inspects it.  It is a clothing patch displaying the German Iron Eagle.

 

                              GIRL

                  Its pretty

 

She hands it back to him.

 

                              BOY

                  No keep it

 

                              GIRL

                  No thank you

 

                              BOY

                  You could wear it on your uniform

 

                              GIRL

                  I don't think so

 

The boy returns the patch back into his pocket.

 

                              GIRL

                  I am already branded by one company

                  right now.  I don't need another

                  branding

 

The girl pulls at her bangs, visually inspecting them.

 

                              BOY

                  I heard you guys aren't allowed

                  to own anything

 

She looks at him.

         

                              GIRL

                  What's to own when everything is

                  already ours?  The belief in

                  ownership of things drags people

                  down.  Valued, long lasting items

                  are claimed to be owned, but are

                  merely rented for a time until

                  death, only to be rented by someone

                  else later on down the road.

 

                  All I keep with me are the tools

                  of my trade.  Tools are not

                  possessions, they are tools

 

                              BOY

                  Why do you talk so funny?

 

                              GIRL

                  Why do you smell so funny?

 

The boy looks down and frowns.  He looks back at her.

 

                              BOY

                  I haven't seen any of your daisies

                  around, maybe you're not a good

                  daisy maker

 

                              GIRL

                  Oh, I am an excellent daisy maker

                  In fact, I was supposed to plant one

                  here, but I have decided not to.

 

                              BOY

                  Why?

 

                              GIRL

                  You ask too many questions

 

The girl takes her rifle off of her shoulder and points it toward the horizon, scanning with it's scope.

 

                              GIRL

                  I have just one more stop to make

 

                              BOY

                  And then what?

 

                              GIRL

                  And then I leave

 

                              BOY

                  Where?  To the moon?  I always wanted

                  to go there.

 

                              GIRL

                  No.  Not the moon, its not even where

                  I'm talking about.  Its when. 

 

                  They wanted me to plant a flower here,

                  but I did not, so naturally I wanted

                  to come and see why I didn't

 

The boy looks down at the half empty plastic bottle.

 

                              BOY

                  Maybe I shouldn't be drinking this

 

The handle to the roof access door squeaks as it turns.  The boy throws the plastic bottle over the wall behind him. 

 

He looks at the opening door briefly then looks to his right seeing that the girl is no longer there.  A MAN sticks his head partially through the door.

 

                              MAN

                   Whada hellya doing?  Get back on

                   your feet soldier!  And put your

                   damn gas mask back on

 

The boy jumps to his feet, fumbles with his gas mask then slams it onto his head slightly off center.  He grabs the binoculars and searches the streets below intently.

 

The man shakes his head.

 

                              MAN

                   Look, I know they don't do this

                   for less than ten kills, but, I

                   promise you son, if you just put

                   one digit on the board, I'll...

                   I'll give you a Blue soda

 

A gunshot is heard in the distance.  The man flinches, looks side to side the closes the door.