Midnight Snack and Other Fairy Tales (27 page)

Truthfully? I haven’t a clue.

JOY

Weird. But not as weird as this naked lady on page three. And what’s this “Mrs. Collins” stuff?

GEORGE

I’ll bring you a newspaper without the naked lady… Joy.

JOY

Cut it out, George. This one’s fine.

He MOVES OFF. Joy bites into the bacon… with the same kind of results you might get from biting a rubber band. Finally she puts it down. George comes by again with some used dishes.

JOY (CONT’D)

Oh, and George? What’s the van with the antenna on it that comes by at night? Somebody else here looking for UFOs?

GEORGE

Van? Oh, probably you saw a TV license van.

JOY

TV license? You have to have a
license
for a TV here?

(completely bemused)

Next you’ll be telling me the authorities prowl around and ticket you for viewing while under the influence.

GEORGE

Not quite. They do scan for illegal TV’s, though.

JOY

Illegal TV’s. What a place…

George goes off, looking amused and relieved.

Gunter PAUSES by Joy’s table. She gives him a long look, working out her own reaction. Gunter WAITS. Finally Joy points at the chair. Gunter sits down: she puts the paper aside.

JOY (CONT’D)

And as for you. Why didn’t you tell me?!

GUNTER

What? That I was dead?

JOY

Yeah, well, all right.

(beat)

You just look so normal.

GUNTER

I
was
normal. Most of us look the way we looked just before. A few look younger, or some other way they like to look, if their will’s strong enough.

JOY

But how —

(embarrassed)

I’m sorry. I’m so nosey. It’s just —

GUNTER

You’ve never talked to any dead people? I do not talk to that many “live ones,” myself, as a rule. One does not desire to, well, attract attention, when one legally does not exist.

(beat)

Come meet the others. They are curious about you too, you know.

Joy gets up, and they EXIT SHOT.

INT. ORMONDE HOTEL LOUNGE—MORNING

Amid yet more of the sixties-tacky decor, HOTEL GUESTS sit reading papers, etc. As Joy and Gunter pause in the doorway, everyone looks at Joy, curious and nervous.

GUNTER

Come on. They won’t bite.

JOY

(nervous)

No, that’s vampires, isn’t it…

Near the door is SARAH (blond, fourteen, an innocent Alice-in-Wonderland face). Her clothes are old-fashioned looking on such a young girl: dark dress, white blouse.

GUNTER

Joy, this is Sarah. She lived around the corner in the mid-1800’s.

SARAH

Oh, are you really an American? I’ve got so much to ask you! I always wanted to visit the frontier, before.

She won’t finish and say “before I died”. Once again Joy almost reaches out to her, then stops. She’s learning.

JOY

Yes. It’s very nice to meet you.

SARAH

I’d love to see a Wild West show! Do they do them where you live?

JOY

I’d have to check.

Then they come to PARIO (dark, mid-thirties, wearing oversized T-shirt and jeans), reading the daily racing form. He kisses his fingers amiably to Joy as she’s introduced.

GUNTER

And this is Pario.

PARIO

Ah, che bella dom’na, falÈ!

JOY

You’re Italian!

GUNTER

Pario was a race driver.

JOY

Isn’t that exciting!

PARIO

(casual)

It was a living.

GUNTER

He was touring the racing circuit in 86 AD when his chariot went over in the London arena, and an opponent’s horses trampled him.

JOY

Oh no!

Pario SHRUGS at Joy, SMILES, goes back to his racing form.

JOY (CONT’D)

This is where George gets his hot tips?

GUNTER

Pario knows a good horse when he sees one.

PARIO

(from behind his form)

After two thousand years, I ought to.

GUNTER

Pario’s tips bring in a lot of the money we need to keep the place going.

They move on to LORNA (tall, slender, elegant, in subdued turn-of-the-century clothes). Her demeanor is very grand, like a retired duchess or actress.

GUNTER (CONT’D)

This is Lorna. She did music-hall work just before the Great War.

JOY

(confused)

Which one is that?

LORNA

Why, the war to end all wars, my dear.

JOY

Oh. Yes. Nice to meet you.

They move away, pause to look out the breakfast-room window into the little garden—postage-stamp size, a few flowers in a tiny bed, garden gnomes with peeling paint, walls on three sides: not much else.

JOY (CONT’D)

(sotto)

How do we tell her it didn’t work?

GUNTER

We don’t. Some of the residents don’t really want to be in this century, so they don’t notice it. It’s just as well. None of us have anywhere else to go.

JOY

You seem to do okay.

GUNTER

(shrugs: a little sad)

I was always adaptable. That didn’t change. But for us, nothing does.

Joy glances at the clock, looks concerned.

JOY

Oh, wow, I’ve got to get a move on. Harry’ll be waiting.

GUNTER

Are you going to be busy for lunch?

JOY

I don’t know…I’m not sure how long this thing goes on.

GUNTER

Well, I will be in the Cafe Royal on Piccadilly around noon, if you want to meet me there.

JOY

Sure. If I’m free, I’ll be there.

Gunter gives her that little bow and heel-click again.

JOY (CONT’D)

(grins at him)

I’ll never understand how you do that in sneakers.

She EXITS.

INT. EARL’S COURT COMPUTER SHOW—DAY

A big convention-center space, full of crazed computer people selling things to each other as fast as they can. An incredible ROARING DIN of voices from salesfolk, attendees, and loud sound systems.

The Erickson stand is one of the largest in the show—a small seating area with big screen, and numerous smaller stands, sales areas for the staff (including Harry) to see buyers and take their orders, a small bar, cardboard cutouts of Robert Erickson, etc etc.

To one side, near one of the cutouts, a TV REPORTER from the London 24-hour news channel, is taping the lead-in for the interview she’s about to do with Erickson. In B.G. of this shot we see Joy go by, craning her neck to see past, looking for Harry, then EXITING SHOT.

TV REPORTER

Three, two, one… By far the best-known face at ACAPS this year is Robert Erickson, self-made billionaire and one of the ten richest men in the United Kingdom. From his humble and unlikely beginnings as an maverick inventor working in a shed in the London suburb of Islington, Erickson has seen the company he founded grow to

TV INTERVIEWER

dominate the markets of three continents. But he’s never lost the personal touch, so it’s no surprise to see him here at ACAPS for the world product launch of Erickson Computers’ hottest new item, the epsCetera Pocket P.A., a WiFi-, 4G- and Web 2.0-friendly “smart” personal assistant device that fans and critics alike have labeled the “BlackBerry Killer”.

The Erickson stand has a sales area—tables, chairs, a soft drink dispenser, surrounded by posters and displays—where the sales staff are talking to retailers and taking orders from them. Harry sits at one table, writing in a looseleaf notebook with one hand, working with one of the abovementioned Pocket P.A.’s otherwise.

POCKET P.A. “VOICE”

Harry, I’ve got a message for you.

Harry TOUCHES AN ICON on the little touchscreen.

POCKET P.A. “VOICE” (CONT’D)

Call incoming from Nigel at oh nine thirty.

HARRY

Put him on hold for three minutes. If he can’t hold, call back then.

POCKET P.A. “VOICE”

All right.

JOY

Harry!

He looks up, his expression annoyed. Joy comes rushing up to him, flustered. She puts her carry-all bag down on the table and starts rummaging through it, trying to find her badge for the show: can’t find it.

HARRY

Where’ve you been?

JOY

I’m sorry I’m late! I got lost on the subway.

HARRY

The Underground. But it’s okay. They’ve rescheduled the husband-and-wife seminar. It’s not till four.

JOY

Oh, good!

She stops going through the bag in search of the badge, starts going through her secret pockets instead. Underground tickets, scribbled notes, and Heaven knows what else pile up on Harry’s work surface. He pushes them out of the way of his work.

HARRY

But I went back to the hotel to get some things, and I couldn’t get into the room. You had the key!

JOY

Didn’t they have another one?

HARRY

(one more irritation)

Little family hotels here don’t usually. When you go out, you leave the key with them, okay?

JOY

Okay. Sorry. How’re you doing here?

Joy finds her badge, sits down by Harry to pin it on. Harry PEERS over her shoulder, alert for approaching clients.

HARRY

Like a house afire. Everybody wants our new baby here. I haven’t stopped writing orders since I got in.

(sees someone past her)

And here come some more. Listen, hon, I can’t stop to socialize right now. Got plans for today?

JOY

Yes. Gunter and I are having lunch.

(wants to tell him, doesn’t know how)

Hon, the hotel —

HARRY

I know. I promise I’ll get us out of there as soon as I can.

JOY

No! I don’t want to go. The hotel’s fine.

HARRY

(taken aback)

It is?

JOY

Yes. The people there are nice.

Harry looks at her suspiciously, wondering what this means. As he’s about to ask, his immediate superior in sales, BOYCE, mid-thirties with a too-slick look and feel, walks by. He pauses, a hand on each of their shoulders, friendly, but with a get-a-move-on feel to the interaction.

BOYCE

And you must be Mrs. Collins!  I’m just delighted to meet you. I’ll be seeing you at the husband-and-wife function later on, yes? Super. Harry, those people from Electronic Arts are on their way over, and we can sell them about a hundred units on the spot if we have enough people to concentrate on them. So nice to see you, Mrs. Collins —

He’s off. Harry and Joy look after him with expressions of annoyance. Harry gives Joy a hurried smooch.

HARRY

Go on, hon. We’ll talk later. Have a nice lunch with Gunter.

Joy nods, GETS UP and EXITS. As Harry is surrounded by a bunch of other sales people and prospective clients, he looks after her as if hearing what he’s just said.

HARRY (CONT’D)

Gunter…

On her way out, Joy STOPS, intrigued, and with many others rubbernecks as the reporter from L!ve TV interviews Robert Erickson. Erickson stands there with his hands in his suit pockets, exuding accessibility and charm. He is upbeat and pleasant, even while rattling off buzzwords.

TV REPORTER

Many of your competitors have claimed that you must be using substandard materials or manufacturing processes to keep your prices so low.

ERICKSON

You mean, so low that we routinely undercut theirs by more than forty percent.

(chuckles)

All we’re doing is using British manufacturing skill and know-how to run a lean, effective organization. With our employee-friendly work structure, we can afford to take lower profits than our competitors, without resorting to ethically questionable practices like mass outsourcing. Erickson produces a world-class product while also creating jobs in the British workplace and plowing the benefits back into the local community.

There’s a brief interruption as a group of POWER-RANGER CLONES in flashy costumes walk by behind Erickson with signs advertising a videogame. He reacts with amusement, turns back to the interviewer.

TV REPORTER

The exact source of that know-how has been a bone of contention for some time, hasn’t it?

ERICKSON

If you mean, would our competitors like us to tell them exactly
how
we cram five hundred percent more performance into our components than they can, of course they would! The Erickson chipset is the standard for performance and durability all over the world: our components are guaranteed to keep the memory burnt into them forever, or until the silicon and plastic wear out—whichever comes first. That kind of reliability,
anyone
would want in their hardware! Especially our competition. But they can’t match it. I understand how frustrated that must make them. I was frustrated too, a lot of those late nights in the shed, until I found the secret.

(beat)

Maybe I should rent them the shed.

LAUGHTER from some of the assembled crowd.

TV REPORTER

Is it true that only three senior executives of your company know all the details of the production process?

ERICKSON

Sorry, no. Only
one
man knows them all: me. The data can only be released to my successor after the courts declare me dead.

(grins)

Pity I’ll miss the sideshow when it kicks off. Sometimes I think it’d be fun to fake my death at least once to get a preview.

More LAUGHTER: the interview continues. Joy, unconvinced by the charm offensive, wanders off to one side and has a last look at Harry. He is with a client, all animation and laughter: he makes his sale. It’s the kind of animation he does not have with her. Thoughtful, Joy EXITS.

EXT. PICCADILLY—DAY

Joy and Gunter have finished lunch. They EXIT the cafe, walking down Piccadilly toward the Circus.

GUNTER

No, we don’t
have
to eat or drink. But it does make us feel more… alive? So most of us do.

JOY

It’s just—I don’t get it. Why are you here, when other dead people aren’t?

GUNTER

I don’t know. Any more than George does, or Sarah.