Waste of Space
and a hoax and a blight /
on the human race!
* * *
Item: Transcript of video recording—RAW, UNAIRED FOOTAGE
Source: Camera #8—Bedroom
Time: 10:01 a.m.
[Louise is on the large bed, once again sitting upright under a blanket. A flashlight wavers from within.]
Source: Camera #5—Spa
[Clayton is still passed out.]
Source: Camera #3—Lünar Lounge
[Nico, Titania, Snout, and Bacardi are sitting around, thinking. The static electricity has faded, but its effects have clearly unnerved the group.]
Titania: What about air ducts?
Nico: What?
Titania: [standing up] Air ducts. We have a heating and air-conditioning system—we know that from when they cranked up the heat a few days ago. Which means there have to be air ducts somewhere.
Snout: I haven’t seen any. Back when Colonel Bacon was stinking up the place, I looked around for somewhere to air him out—you know, diffuse the stench—but I couldn’t find squat. Not one air vent in the ship, as far as I can reckon.
Titania: Not that we can see, at least. I bet they’re blended into those instruments up there. [She points at a complex web of instruments near the ceiling.]
Nico: Maybe they figured that one of us would try to escape sooner or later, so they camouflaged them.
Titania: Which means we need to breach the walls some other way.
Bacardi: Ceiling’s already breached.
Titania: Huh?
Bacardi: [pointing up] Clayton shot the ceiling, remember? Can’t we make that hole bigger or something?
Nico: If the ceiling’s made out of a thin enough material . . . maybe. That’s actually a good idea.
Bacardi: Gee, thanks.
Titania: See what you can find to fit in the hole. Something we can use for leverage, like a crowbar.
[The four of them look around. Bacardi wrenches a pool cue off the rack on the wall.]
Bacardi: This’ll work. [She hands it to Snout.] You’re the tallest. You do the honors.
[Snout clambers up onto the pool table, pokes the cue through the duct tape into the bullet hole, and jimmies it around while Nico, Titania, and Bacardi watch intently.
Too intently. They’re so focused on what he is doing that they fail to notice the wisps of vapor that have begun to seep into the Lünar Lounge.]
Snout: It’s working! I can feel it widening! Shoot, it ain’t thick at all—barely a piece of sheet metal—
[Suddenly Snout drops where he stands, face-planting into the green felt of the pool table. Half a second later, the other three fall to the floor, out cold.]
Item: Transcript of audio recording
Source: Chazz’s cell phone
Time: 12:30 p.m.
Chazz: Hello?
Boris: Hey, Chazz. It’s Boris.
Chazz: Bor—Jesus, what happened? You were supposed to get back to L.A. two hours ago!
Boris: Yeah, I ran into a few problems.
Chazz: Where are you?
Boris: A gas station in, uh . . . let me check the sign . . . Winslow. Arizona.
Chazz: Where the hell is that?
Boris: I’d say it’s somewhere near Winslow, Arizona.
Chazz: Well, get back here! We need Matt and Kaoru to get their asses on The Perky Paisley Show tonight!
Boris: Yeah, that’s gonna be an issue. The kids are gone.
Chazz: What?
Boris: They jumped me from the back of the van! Must have conked their heads together and woken up. I told you two at a time was a bad idea—
Chazz: You’re not getting paid for your ideas. You’re getting paid to transport sparkly-eyed space brats from point A to point B. And apparently you can’t even do that!
Boris: Not from point C, I can’t.
Chazz: Why are you stuck in Arizona?
Boris: They took the van.
Chazz: They took it? Where did they take it?
Boris: Now, how would I know a thing like that? I ain’t in the van with them!
Chazz: Which direction did they go?
Boris: I don’t know! Like I said, they knocked me out! Pushed me out of the van! Ran over my phone! Took my wallet! [pause]
Boris: What do you want me to—
Chazz: Shh. I’m seething.
Boris: Yeah, but how am I gonna get home?
Chazz: Great question. I’m sure you’ll figure something out.
Boris: You mean you’re not gonna send someone for me?
Chazz: You’re no longer an employee of DV8 Productions. So you are no longer my problem.
Boris: But—
Chazz: Good luck, buddy.
[end of call]
Item: Transcript of video recording—RAW, UNAIRED FOOTAGE
Source: Camera #4—Lünar Lounge
Time: 12:16 p.m.
[Louise walks into the Lünar Lounge and sees the others passed out. She gasps and hurries to rouse them.]
Louise: Hey! Guys, wake up! Titania, can you hear me? [She lightly slaps Titania in the face. Titania’s eyes flutter. Louise moves on to the others until all four of them have come around, groggy and bruised from their falls, but otherwise intact.]
Snout: Good gravy. What happened?
Titania: [rubbing her eyes] I think they drugged us.
Nico: My head is killing me.
Snout: My face hurts.
Bacardi: I kind of liked it?
[Titania looks warily at the camera.]
Titania: They must still be watching.
Nico: Who, though? DV8 or NASAW?
Titania: Either. Both. It doesn’t matter. Someone is messing with us. And they don’t want us to get out.
Louise: Of course they don’t! They saved your life—that’s the cold, deathly vacuum of space out there! You can’t just punch a hole in the ceiling and escape!
[Titania looks at the others with dread.]
Titania: Guess not.
* * *
Item: Transcript of video recording
Source: Surveillance camera—IKEA, Store #863, Tempe, Arizona
Time: 12:18 p.m.
[An IKEA employee approaches two kids sleeping in the bedroom section.]
IKEA Employee: Excuse me. [pokes the lump under the colorful Sömnig sheets] Excuse me! These beds aren’t for sleeping!
[Matt groans, rolls over, and squints at her through the harsh lighting.]
Matt: But we’re so tired! We drove all night but then we were attacked by scientists so we had to drive back toward California but we don’t have any money so we couldn’t afford a hotel and we’re just so hungry and so tired!
[The employee signals to a nearby guard.]
IKEA Employee: Security?
Kaoru: {Good job, foolish boy. Now we must run.}
[She hops out of the bed. Matt reluctantly lopes after her. Together they dart through bins of pillows, knocking over Hampdåns and Jordröks in their wake to trip up the security guard, who follows in hot pursuit.]
Matt: [peeling off to the right] To the cafeteria! We can steal some meatballs!
Kaoru: [grabbing his shirt and pulling him back] {They will catch us. We must leave now.}
[With a defeated groan, Matt obeys. They flee the store, run into the parking lot, and drive away in a purple windowless van before anyone can nab them.]
* * *
Onboard the Laika, the Spacetronauts have retreated into individual corners to work through their anxieties in their own unique ways.
Item: Transcript of video recording
Source: Nico’s camera
Battery charge: 28%
Time: 12:32 p.m.
[IMAGE: The bedroom wall]
Hi Mom. Hi Dad.
Battery’s draining again.
So here’s the situation. We have no food. We have no contact with the outside world. We’re locked inside the ship. No banging or prying or button pushing has gotten us any closer to opening the a
irlock door. And even if we could open the door . . .
I don’t know what we’d find out there. Something unnatural is going on. Some kind of test or experiment. The static electricity has gotten worse. Listen.
[He rustles the bedsheets. The snap-crackle-pop of static electricity fills the air.]
Whenever I touch a metal surface, I get a shock—like, a visible one, a tiny bolt of lightning. And the floating—really don’t know what that was about.
Maybe it’s psychological. Maybe they’re trying to see how long a group of teenagers can be cooped up together until someone snaps and paints the walls with everyone’s blood.
And up until today I thought it was relatively harmless—but then they gassed us. We passed out.
Why are they doing this?
The cameras are on, but I don’t think DV8 is watching. There’s no way to know if this footage is broadcasting. Everything we do and say—are we being watched by the world? Or by no one at all?
Which is worse?
Item: Transcript of video recording—RAW, UNAIRED FOOTAGE
Source: Camera #7—Confessional Closet
Time: 12:34 p.m.
Snout: I haven’t used this thing much so far, but dang it, I’ve got some feelings. And they need to go somewhere, or—or I’m gonna pop!
I miss Colonel Bacon.
I know he was smelly and annoying and a mess and—heck, I guess I’m all of those things too. But he was the only friend I had up here, and now that he’s gone, I feel way more alone than I ever did.
Although . . . I’m kinda glad he got out. And yeah, I’m worried about him—but you know what? I think he’s okay. Our bond was deep and true, forged in the mud pits out back that Great-Aunt Ellie dug with her own eight fingers. If something bad had happened to him, I’d know about it. I’d feel it, somehow. Wherever he is, he’s happy. A little scared, but happy.
[He smiles to himself.]
Yeah. Yeah, I reckon Colonel Bacon’s doing juuust peachy.
Source: Camera #3—Lünar Lounge
[Titania is sitting alone in the Lünar Lounge, mindlessly paging through the IKEA catalog. Clayton stirs, splashing water onto the glass of the hot-tub enclosure.]
Clayton: [through the bullet hole] Where is everyone?
[Titania looks up at him.]
Titania: Around. Freaking out.
Clayton: Why? What’d I miss?
Titania: They drugged us. We were passed out almost as long as you.
Clayton: Heh. Karma’s a bitch, huh?
[Titania goes back to the catalog. Clayton pouts.]
Clayton: So. What do you think those people are doing out there?
[Titania flips a page.]
Clayton: Come on, talk to me. You’re one of the smart—you’ve got half a brain.
Titania: Thanks?
Clayton: I mean that you’ve known for a while we’re not in space. And that it doesn’t matter where we are—an underground bunker or the top of a mountain or Superman’s goddamn Fortress of Solitude—whatever. What matters is that the NASAW scientists are right outside that door. They’re right outside. They’re the ones who have been swaying the ship, throwing rocks at us, setting things on fire. With the help of special-effects people, sure, but why do this? Why sign on with DV8? If they’re serious scientists, they don’t have time for this theme-park bullshit. So what’s in it for them?
Titania: Maybe they have their own agenda.
Clayton: [snorting] They one hundred percent have their own agenda.
[Titania frowns.]
Titania: Do you know that for sure?
Clayton: No. But whatever they’re doing, I bet they’re almost done.
Titania: What do you mean?
Clayton: The rocking has stopped. Didn’t you notice?
[Titania puts down the catalog and takes a moment to assess the lack of movement.]
Titania: Whoa. When did that happen?
Clayton: Probably while we were all unconscious. Plus, you’re right, the static electricity’s gotten stronger. They’re either getting ready to wrap things up, or they’re too busy with their own work to keep up the charade. Or both.
[Titania studies him.]
Titania: You got all that from one standstill?
Clayton: I get a lot of things from a lot of things.
[Titania stands up. She takes a step toward him, narrowing her eyes.]
Titania: Do you know something the rest of us don’t?
[Clayton beckons her forward, as if he’s going to whisper something through the hole. Titania puts her ear up to the glass.]
Clayton: LET ME OUT, BITCH!
[He cackles maniacally while Titania calmly goes back to the couch, sits down, and extends both of her middle fingers, holding the pose until well after Clayton stops laughing.]
Source: Camera #6—Bathroom
[Louise is brushing her teeth. Bacardi walks by the bathroom, sees her, and ducks in.]
Bacardi: What are you doing? It’s not like we have any food to brush away.
Louise: [with a mouthful of toothpaste] Little trick from home—something about the mintyness of toothpaste suppresses the appetite. I have a big family, and sometimes there’s not enough food to go around. This is a good way to trick your stomach into being full.
Bacardi: Oh. Interesting.
[Louise spits her toothpaste into the sink, rinses, puts her toothbrush away, and turns to Bacardi.]
Louise: What’s going on with you? You seem different today. Like, sober.
Bacardi: And you’re, like, blunt.
Louise: Well, sorry. But I don’t know why you’d want to be drunk in the first place. Only the tiniest percentage of the tiniest percentage of humans have ever gotten a chance like this! Why would you want to be unconscious all the time? [Bacardi starts to respond, but Louise talks over her.] I don’t get it. Both you and Clayton, wanting to come on this show just for attention, to become famous. Taking two spots that otherwise could have gone to any of the zillions of kids out there who wanted to come up here for the right reasons, because they love science and want to further their education and embark on a once-in-a-lifetime journey—
Bacardi: Oh, sweetie. I know you still think we’re in space, and that’s adorable, but here’s the thing: even if this were real, it’s for entertainment. It’s DV8. You really expected a noble, scientific, educational venture from the people who brought you Fornication Nation Vacation: On Location?
Louise: But the NASAW scientists—
Bacardi: Are probably production assistants wearing lab coats that were left over from the America’s Got Plastic Surgeons! costume bin.
[Louise crosses her arms in a huff.]
Louise: You sure know your DV8. Maybe you should spend less time watching television and more time educating yourself on the intricacies of the universe.
Bacardi: Oh, I know how to educate myself. It’s simple math. Five hundred hours of DV8 reality programming plus the meticulous identification of the seven most common female cast-member archetypes divided by four to six frequently displayed personality traits times three years spent assimilating said traits plus two exquisite funbags equals a one hundred percent chance of being selected to join the cast of any given show of my choosing.
[Louise blinks at her.]
Louise: What are you, a spy or something? How—
Bacardi: HOLY SHIT WHAT IS THAT THING?!
Source: Camera #3—Lünar Lounge
[Titania, still flipping off Clayton, comes to attention as Bacardi and Louise run into the lounge. Hearing the commotion, Snout and Nico run in from the Confessional Closet and the bedroom, respectively.]
Bacardi: THERE’S A MONSTER IN THE TOILET!
Snout: A monster?
Clayton: I highly doubt there’s a monster in our toilet. Unless Snout’s been using it.
Bacardi: GO LOOK.
Source: Camera #6—Bathroom
[Everyone but Clayton piles into the bathroom.]
Nico: What is t
hat?
Bacardi: IT’S A GODDAMN MONSTER!
Louise: It’s a vergdorf! From the planet Yajifi!
Snout: Aw, heck. It’s a Gila monster!
Bacardi: SEE? A MONSTER!
Snout: Oh, that’s just a silly name. Nothin’ but a big ole lizard!
[Everyone flees the bathroom, Bacardi slamming the stall shut on the way out.]
Source: Camera #3—Lünar Lounge
[They run back to the lounge, where Clayton is struggling to ascertain what is going on.]
Clayton: Did I hear you correctly? What is a “big ole lizard” doing in our toilet?
Snout: I reckon he crawled up the pipes . . .
Louise: Or he stowed away before we launched and has been hiding onboard all along! What other explanation is there?
[They all give her skeptical looks.]
Clayton: Snout, where do Gila monsters come from?
Snout: They’re native to the Southwest. Arizona and New Mexico, I believe.
Clayton: [to Louise] Which is on Earth. I believe.
Snout: Oh, and they’re highly venomous.
Bacardi: GODDAMMIT.
Source: Camera #6—Bathroom
[Bacardi storms back into the toilet stall, shuts herself in with the Gila monster, and locks the door, which the group then bangs on.]
Snout: Just leave it alone, and it won’t hurt anyone! Don’t kill it!
Bacardi: [from inside] I’m not killing it.
Snout: Then what are you doing?
[no answer]
Snout: [to the rest] What is she doing?
Titania: I don’t know. But that stall is the only place on the ship that doesn’t have a camera.
* * *
Item: Transcript of audio recording
Source: Chazz’s cell phone
Time: 1:12 p.m.
DV8: Chazz?
Chazz: Talk to me.
DV8: We’ve, uh—we’ve got a problem.
Chazz: You think? Matt and Kaoru are MIA—and Hibiscus, that rotten little socialist—
DV8: No, a different problem. A major one. This is bad, Chazz.
Chazz: [away from the phone] Khloe! Kourtney’s nipple is not a chew toy! [into the phone] Sorry. Go.