The producer and director around a pool table, bills on the side, the writer laughs maniacally from the room with grips of cash in his hands.
Alan Smithee
The producer - Chalking as the door slams, "So. Is he like ... actually insane ?"
A (that guy) Production
The Director - Circling the table, "I never know what the fuck he's talking about." Leans in for a shot, "I just make it work."
Directed by (that other guy)
Taking his time to line it up right ... he takes the shot.
Shattering
the it into three large pieces and a lot of dusty shards, slow tumbling
for the Earth. Where the tides feel it first like the storm inverting
the calm. The ships depart, all over the world.
A space station fighting
the gravitational turbulence on its stabilizers, a warship wrenching
from it's dock. A slow turning wheel wrapped around a tall
spire, top and bottom the same and dotted with array for communication, a
balanced gyroscope where the hamsters are human on the wheel. A
science hub and nothing more.
The ships continue pouring from the
shattering landscape. These cities are recognizable, not so
far ahead, but the crashing traffic shows the age. We'd just stepped
out of the darkness, and only just made it to the stars.
Too late.
The tidal wave arcs high, as the people scream from their traffic jammed cars.
Too late.
(0:54) Streaking through the
debris, spinning between the escapees, the vehicle shaped like a smooth
seed. The last population flees the clattering storm with it, some
expensive and some poor.
Shards of continents crack with the last
of their atmosphere carrying cries of humanly protest, Hollywood
crashes in Vegas, the Statue of Liberty impales an oceanic vessel.
(1:29) The seed ship accelerates into turn, weaving debris and debris-like ships escaping with.
The
survivors navigate through in hard acceleration, too many drawn into
the wells and sent crashing to the forgotten place, crippled between
stones.
(1:45) The director grins behind the yellow ball ...
Producer - "No ... "
Director - Madness in his eyes, "Yesss ... "
Producer - "Fuck ... both of you guys ... " Throws down the stick and leaves.
~ Director takes the shot.
The
space station jerks hard from the shift as the sun appears to implode
in the distance, lashing flares appearing like dragons depart the nova
wave erupting behind.
~ Has a bit too much fun with the rest of the table while the plants crash in their gravitational vortices.
(2:23) The
seed ship breaks way from the planetary shards, burst speed over the
station and drops a beacon flashing before jumping to speed and then
gone.
~ Xenofix ~
Because of course
it happened on a Monday.
View from inside docking tubes aboard the station
as every kind of ship imaginable makes it's slow way in. Behind, the
asteroid belt grows while near station as a refrain, the beacon the seed
ship left behind flashes.
The ships dock from their topside to maintain gravity flow between, more gathering than it can hold.
While
the warship 'Centaur' drags its trailer prey, releases chain and sets
it to drift for retrieval before sending a shuttle to dock. The Captain
and security wait at the broad view wind, watching the slow spinning
of the new refugee station.
It has the look of a way-station
with a lot of science taped to it, 'repurposed', if not retired from a
mining nexus to comm array. High spires above and below holding the
array, but sturdily constructed to defend its rare finds and
acquisitions.
In this it betrays a civilization spent. Like the
captain, like the Centaur and its prey, the emergency ships and personal
craft still gathering for a place on the ring, it all seems just very
old.
Docked with a grinding sound before hard decompression
between, the shuttle drops floor for the steps up to the station. The
captain stares ahead as though he didn't notice. A look to the security
right. Then left where one looks ready to fall apart.
He stares until their eyes meet, a nod.
...
A nod back as the lad straightens.
Captain = "We're all they've got. And when they see us, they'll know it. So fake it. Just like I'm about to do. It's not about us anymore."
...
The young guard - As the rest correct posture with, "Yes sir."
Another guard - "I thought we were supposed to be a museum."
Young guard - Laughs nervously, "Yeah like hotel suites."
The last guard - "I was looking forward to the grass."
Captain
- Looks back ahead ... a sigh. "Alright. Let's do this." They march
the steps cold, and out to the noise of panic and screams, cries for
help and for nothing at all, they swarm them begging for answers.
____________
In a station lab, two guards outside the door, two in ~
Technology - "Hawking."
Science - "Yeah like a Hawking wave."
Technology - "Has that even been named that yet ?"
Science - "No idea."
Science - "Hawking wave."
Technology - "Yes the Hawking wave. And even if we do, black hole. There went all the solar power."
Science - "Hawking wave."
Technology - "Yeah that."
Captain - "Just ... how long do we have ?"
~ The Producer on a telephone - "Jesus fuck."
Technology - "Hour and a half."
Science - Smiles handing him an envelope. "And you."
Technology - "Have orders."
...
Captain - Stares in horror at the envelope, aged and sealed with a wax signet, data-pad on top. "What ?"
In
the engine room, the machinery begins shaking. Crew looks to the core
as it starts to clang like beating an oil drum. A simple round tube
with 12 smaller bricks held around it by mechanical arms suspended
above.
The pipes clang like a heater coming on, a bolt
pops harmlessly, it concerns no one but a crewman noting it on
the data-pad it for later repair. The room shakes hard to the side, the
crewman catches himself.
Around the ship the passengers are concerned ... as though
they'd never heard it turn on, its cacophony of clanging and coughed up
smoke amid the electrical discharges. The mechanical hands let go of
the bricks, allowing them to hover on their own as they start to orbit
the central core.
A sound like a dragon as they lock into network
with one another, as if each were propelling the next. Steam pouring
to cool, the evaporating moisture helping to contain the wild
electricity lashing out.
The lightning goes mostly to the three
rods surrounding it all, which in turn funnels it back into the device.
The mechanic puts a hand on a young crewman's shoulder to calm him, a
glance and a smile to another popped bolt.
"Yes sir." And to it he goes.
Engineer - "It likes dirty electricity. Electricity that's been through it."
And as if with a cannon shot through the fabric of the
universe, they're gone.