Background.

In 2003, a privileged slacker graduates with an MBA and takes a management position at one of his uncle’s motel chains.

Scene.

Late mid-morning, maybe 11am. A windowed lobby in the front of the hotel. A paved driveway and parking lot are immediately outside. A large wooden front desk, absurdly ornate for a Holiday Inn, with a young man behind. He is the front desk clerk. He is all alone. Early 20s, longer hair, hints of a hippie, but not so matter-of-fact. His gold-colored name tag says “Jack.” He is on the office phone, a long off-white coil cord stretches from the handset to the desk.

Jack [on the phone, in a Northern California rural twang]: No, I’m telling you, I was whacked, completely fucked. It was awesome. [Listens.] No, fuck no, I told you I don’t care. [Listens.] I don’t give a shit, what the fuck is wrong with you? [Listens.] Nah, fuck you. You’re whacked, you know that?

The main character enters the lobby, the lobby door’s movement alerts the motion detector, and the digital bell rings. Jack turns his shoulder ever so slightly. He is leaning back in his chair, his phone tucked between his head and shoulder. He needs to end the conversation, and isn’t upset about it. This is his job, and he enjoys it.

Jack [listening on the phone]: Alright… yea, well… yea, alright mom, well I’ve got to go. Yea, I’ll talk to you soon. [He hangs up the phone.]

Jack stands up and greets the stranger.

Jack: How may I help you today?

Unfinished scene.

§ [insert_php] the_ID(); [/insert_php] · Originally published [insert_php] the_time(‘F j, Y’); [/insert_php].

Background.

The ruling class of the “true humans” modeled themselves after the historic ruling families that existed on Earth for hundreds of thousands of years. Following the death of the Prince (whose position is similar to that of a Prime Minister), the son of King Durnal, the prince to succeed him must be chosen.

Scene.

The King sits in his lounge on a big deep chair. The room is dark with thick stone walls, similar to Roman times. All light is natural through sunpaths installed in ceilings that allow natural sunlight into the rooms. The King (Durnal) is a stately man, powerful, wise, however hesitant. His weaknesses show on his face, in wrinkles and sweat. His hair is damp and greying. The shot is from his upper-chest and up. He is shirtless. King Durnal sighs. “Humanity…” he slowly says in a monotone voice, letting the words draw out for seconds. He says it with pain and fear.

His wife, Queen Lue, a beautiful young woman, stands partially nude in the doorway of the room. The bright sun from beyond here makes her appear all black, hidden in the shadow of her own beauty. She cuts him off immediately, “Humanity was destroyed long ago.”

Camera pans in on the king, pensively thinking and rubbing his eyes in frustration. The camera pans back, the wife moves forward. It becomes obvious the two are naked and have just finished making love. She kneels in front of his chair, laying her head on his thigh, an effort to console the worried king.

The “true humans,” aided by science, have been able to speed up gestation in order to increase their population. The number of children the king has spawned is unknown. The idea of family has greatly decayed over time. Humans, in their small numbers, now consider their entire species their “family.” The new Prince will not be one of the king’s offspring. The leading candidate is Apollo, who is not a pure “true human.”

Queen Lue: “He would be wonderful,” speaking of Apollo.
King Durnal: “And what is he..?”
Queen Lue: [She hesitates.] “Fifth generation,” she spits out his birth lineage to the “humatas.”

The king grimaces. He has considered mighty Apollo as his own son. He has always resisted any efforts to promote any humata, despite any distant lineage, however. Science at this time stated that seventh generation humatas were effectively true humans. The extremist true humans didn’t concur. They did agree with the practice of increasing their population and cross-breeding with humatas, but they distrusted any “effectively-true human” with humata blood, as was the case with Apollo. But Apollo was different, the strongest of the candidates, the tallest and brightest. Durnal knows this. Lue knows this. The future of “humanity” was at stake. Apollo is currently stationed in northern Asia as ambassador to the tribal humans and oversees war operations on the northern front.

Camera pans to the king’s face, who continues to ponder the future and is briefly hesitant to accept the inevitable and obvious. His wife gets up, a sense of accomplishment across her face, and begins to walk towards the door, nude. The deliberations were over. A new prince had been crowned.

End of scene.

§ [insert_php] the_ID(); [/insert_php] · Originally published [insert_php] the_time(‘F j, Y’); [/insert_php].