FADE IN: 

INT. LIVING ROOM – DAY

CODY (16) sits at a table in a nice suburban living room, working on math homework.

UNCLE THOMAS (30s) enters, carrying a laptop computer.

CODY

Hey Uncle Thomas.

UNCLE THOMAS

Oh, hey Cody. If you see your mom, tell her I returned her laptop.

He sets the laptop on an endtable, and starts to head back out.

CODY

Uncle Thomas, have you ever used trigonometry for anything ever?

UNCLE THOMAS

Huh. No, not really. But I went into programming, so --

CODY

Gawd. This is totes useless.

UNCLE THOMAS

Well -- no. I mean, if you go on to higher math, or physics, or --

CODY

I am so not doing that, Uncle Thomas.

UNCLE THOMAS

I dunno. I liked math as a kid. Some people just think trig is cool in and of itself.

CODY

You liked trigonometry? Wha -- how -- I hate it. Everyone I know hates it.

UNCLE THOMAS

And it probably teaches you a little about how to think, or how to handle math in general --

CODY

No. And even if it did, why can’t I “learn how to think” while doing something that isn’t useless?

UNCLE THOMAS

Plus, it’s not like it ever goes out of date --

CODY

Why the hell are you taking trigonometry’s side?!

UNCLE THOMAS

Look.

Uncle Thomas takes a seat.

UNCLE THOMAS

You want to know what real uselessness is? The GVX-5 Time Tracking System.

CODY

I don’t know what that is.

UNCLE THOMAS

Of course you don’t. It’s possibly the worst piece of time-tracking software ever made. Its interface is non-intuitive, it’s got a hundred bugs you have to work around, it has nothing in common with any other software on the planet --

CODY

Why are you talking about this?

UNCLE THOMAS

Because my company put me on a project that uses that for its bureaucratic stuff, so I’ve spent the last week learning how it works. And! And, they’re phasing out the GVX-5 next month, so not only am I learning about a useless piece of software, but I’m learning about a useless piece of software I’m never going to use again.

CODY

Okay, that kind of sucks.

UNCLE THOMAS

And! And also, there’s, like, a 90% chance that the whole project will be scrapped.

CODY

Hmm. So this is what being old is like?

UNCLE THOMAS

(nodding)

All the time. You’re just mad because you expect school to be useful.

CODY

Hmm.

UNCLE THOMAS

Knowing how to use the GVX-5 system is the most useless thing in the world.

CODY

Well, no --

UNCLE THOMAS

What?

CODY

I mean, you’re getting paid, right? Plus it’s just you that’s putting up with it -- not, y’know, everybody who’s in my trig class. So it can’t be the most useless skill in the world.

UNCLE THOMAS

(nodding)

The most useless skill would have to be unpaid, and it would have to involve a lot of people, and it would have to be just soul-deadening torpor.

Beat.

UNCLE THOMAS & CODY

Farmville.

CODY

Yup, that wins.

UNCLE THOMAS

Joyless, pointless time vampire.

Beat.

UNCLE THOMAS

Well, I feel better about my day now.

CODY

But worse about life.

Uncle Thomas nods.

FADE OUT.

FADE IN: 

EXT. OFFICE BUILDING – DAY

A clean, shiny office building.

DOCENT (V.O.)

The next part of the intelligence test covers situations.

INT. OFFICE – CONTINUOUS

The DOCENT sits across a desk from HANK (40s), a grizzled type in an ill-fitting suit.

DOCENT

So, I’ll explain a situation to you. You explain how you deal with it.

HANK

Mmm.

DOCENT

Okay, first situation: you’re lost in the woods. How do you find your way back to civilization?

HANK

That’s a tricky one.

DOCENT

Take as long as you need.

HANK

‘cos the forest? The forest wants you to die.

DOCENT

Oh-kay...

HANK

First thing is, make sure you go in a line. The forest? The forest’ll make you walk in circles, round and round, ’til you die.

DOCENT

So how do you do --

HANK

You pick three spots in a line, start walking. Get to the second, pick a fourth. Get to the third, pick a fifth.

DOCENT

Interesting.

HANK

And if’n it rained, you can check the moss, which’ll grow on the north sides of the trees.

DOCENT

Moss?

HANK

Or, if you have a clear enough view of the sky, you can guide yourself by the sun. Or if it’s nighttime, sight the north star.

DOCENT

Right, and you just keep walking ’til --

HANK

You keep walking. And you use everything you got to keep the madness at bay.

DOCENT

Sorry -- did you say --

HANK

Oh, there ain’t nothin’ lonelier than losing your way in the woods. You can scream, but the leaves just eat your voice. You can run, but the woods, they just go on forever. It’s just you, like a tiny little speck, surrounded by hundreds of those centuries life, all of it waiting to snuff you out.

DOCENT

I think we’re getting off-topic --

HANK

Sometimes their voices call out to you. Maybe you find yourself on some sheer drop, and the spirit of the woods is there, tempting you to end it all.

DOCENT

Okay, now --

HANK

L’appel du vide, the French call it.

DOCENT

That’s not really a strategy, though --

HANK

So you just keep walking. Keep walking, and hope you chose right. Pray with every step that you find an escape before the madness finds you.

DOCENT

Okay.

HANK

Mm-hmm.

DOCENT

Or also, you could climb a tall tree and see which way the buildings are.

Beat.

HANK

Dammit.

DOCENT

Yeah.

HANK

This mean I’m not getting the accounting job?

DOCENT

Probably not.

FADE OUT.

FADE IN:

INT. OFFICE – DAY

MR. GELLMAN (40s) sits at his desk in a shabby little industrial office.

SHAUN (20s) sits across from him.

Gellman happily shuffles through a few papers.

GELLMAN

And there’s that sorted, and... congratulations! Shaun, you are our newest mechanic specialist!

SHAUN

Awesome!

A firm handshake.

Gellman digs up one last form.

GELLMAN

Oh, right, there’s one last thing. Nothing, really --

He hands the form to Shaun.

SHAUN

This contract is under an NDA?

Shaun shrugs, gets out his pen.

GELLMAN

Bit more than that. You can’t even acknowledge that this place exists.

SHAUN

What?

GELLMAN

Sorry to say, this whole factory is a bit of a conspiracy. Our own government doesn’t know about it. One of those ‘black projects’.

SHAUN

Well... do I pretend I’m in some sort of front organization, or --

GELLMAN

Oh, no, no, that never works. If anyone asks, don’t say anything about this agency; just claim to work in ‘software development’.

Beat.

SHAUN

Software development?

GELLMAN

Mm-hmm!

SHAUN

That works?

GELLMAN

Indeed! Don’t worry, it shuts down conversations dead.

SHAUN

Huh. So, are all ‘software developers’ actually...

He gestures at the office around him.

Gellman nods.

GELLMAN

Programming work was all farmed out to India ages ago. So now, you see lots of people pulling down high salaries for work they never actually talk about? That’s mostly black-box operations such as, well, this one.

SHAUN

But... but there are whole magazines and websites and conferences devoted to --

GELLMAN

Right, it’s a sizeable job, maintaining all that -- but it’s a collective effort from secret crimefighting organizations, garden-variety mad scientists, superhero support infrastructures.

SHAUN

This -- okay, this has gotta be some kinda joke --

GELLMAN

You really think php is real? Or that any sane person would use it if it were?

SHAUN

Oh, I... I don’t know what php is. Any time somebody mentions something like that, my mind glazes over.

GELLMAN

That’s precisely how it’s designed!

SHAUN

No kidding!

GELLMAN

Every six months to a year, they come up with a new set of buzzwords, just in case any outsiders get too curious. A good many English majors work on that.

SHAUN

I always thought there were way too many English majors for the existing job market.

GELLMAN

Quite. And that way, the rest of us can keep fighting aliens, performing bizarre experiments in transhumanism, dealing with singularity-level AIs -- you name in -- without incontroverting the conventional world.

SHAUN

Huh.

GELLMAN

So. The NDA?

SHAUN

I don’t know if I feel comfortable with this sort of dishonesty. (thinks a moment) Oh, but this is one of those things where I already know too much, isn’t it?

GELLMAN

Rather.

SHAUN

I don’t really have a choice?

GELLMAN

We do employ a team of freelance assassins to eliminate leaks. Nice people, really, but --

Shaun sighs.

GELLMAN

And... look, I’m not supposed to say this, but I’ll just ‘throw caution to the wind’, as it were. It might be that we’re making an army of killer robots capable of taking over the world. Just... throwing that out there.

SHAUN

Really?

Gellman touches a finger to his nose.

SHAUN

Wow.

GELLMAN

Does that help?

SHAUN

Absolutely! That’s awesome!

Shaun happily signs the last form.

GELLMAN

I know, right?

SHAUN

Why didn’t you just lead off with that?

GELLMAN

Good point, Shaun. Good point.

FADE OUT.

FADE IN:

INT. OFFICE DOOR – DAY

A sign on a door reads, “Stan Wellnitz, TSA Administrator.”

CONNOR (V.O.)

I just can’t do it, boss.

INT. OFFICE – DAY

WELLNITZ (50s) sits at his desk in a shabby little office.

CONNOR (20s, haunted) sits across from him.

WELLNITZ

Connor, this is silly. You’re the best backscatter analyst this airport has.

CONNOR

Too much nakedness. Too much.

WELLNITZ

Yes, when somebody steps into the airport scanning machine, you’re the guy that sees them more-or-less naked. So? You’re a big boy, Connor. It’s fine.

CONNOR

Maybe if I lived in France, or I dunno, Sweden, it would be fine. But we’re in America.

Off of Wellnitz’s puzzled look --

CONNOR

There are three million morbidly-obese people in this country, boss.

(haunted whisper)

I think I’ve seen all of them.

WELLNITZ

Your problem is... the nudity?

CONNOR

(to himself)

So many skin diseases.

WELLNITZ

Well, just suck it up for eight hours a day, and --

CONNOR

This has ruined nudity for me, forever. I see naked people everywhere.

Wellnitz gets up from his desk.

WELLNITZ

What, so you can tell what I’m carrying now?

CONNOR

Keys, wallet, and fifty-seven cents in loose change.

This stuns Wellnitz for a moment, then --

WELLNITZ

You’re seeing me naked?

Connor stares somewhere far away.

CONNOR

Right now, I’m seeing a naked, four-hundred pound man with a

colostomy bag and a raging erection.

WELLNITZ

But I’m not four hundred pounds --

CONNOR

I saw that image three months ago.

(haunted whisper)

It never leaves.

WELLNITZ

Connor, we started using software to distort the passengers’ faces and... intimate areas. So I think --

CONNOR

(shudders)

I know. They’re distorted freaks! They’re showing up in my nightmares.

WELLNITZ

Alright, fine, Connor.

CONNOR

It’s like David Cronenberg is directing my dreams.

Offscreen, the door opens.

RIKU

Hi guys!

Connor turns to see --

A horrible vision

A short, squat man, but black and white, naked, folds of fat everywhere, patchy skin, the face stretched out into a horrid rictus, the crotch eerily smoothed out.

back on connor

Connor yelps, cowers in his seat, rubs his eyes, and now we cut back to a...

normal shot of the office

We see that it’s RIKU (20s), the same short, squat guy, but fully clothed.

He’s still incredibly creepy, but he no longer looks like something out of Ringu.

RIKU

What?

WELLNITZ

Riku here can take on your responsibilities, Connor.

RIKU

Sweet!

Riku gets uncomfortably close to Connor’s ear.

RIKU

(whispers)

I want to see the naked people.

WELLNITZ

That’s good for you, right, Connor?

CONNOR

Yes. But --

Riku interrupts with a creepy noise.

CONNOR

-- but maybe not the best for passengers. Y’know what? I’ll... I’ll stick this out a while longer.

WELLNITZ

Really?

CONNOR

Yeah, you don’t need to transfer Riku.

Connor exits the office like a man walking up to the gallows.

Beat.

RIKU

You wouldn’t really put me on backscatter duty, would you?

WELLNITZ

Hell no. You’re just here to scare Connor back into line.

INT. OFFICE DOOR – DAY

Same as before.

RIKU (V.O.)

Whew. Thank god. I’m creepy, but even I’ve got limits.

FADE OUT.

FADE IN:

INT. STORE ROOM – DAY

TAGELLI (30s) and DAVEY (20s) look around a store room.

A few shelves line the walls, and an empty pedestal sits in the middle of the room. There are no windows, and only a single door. There’s a grated air vent in one of the walls.

MR. ST. JOHN (50s) stands expectantly.

MR. ST. JOHN

I’m afraid this is beyond even your powers of detection, Detective Tagelli. No way in, no way out, and still: the gem was taken right out from under our noses.

TAGELLI

Eh, it’s worth a look around.

Something on the pedestal catches his attention. Tagelli walks over to the pedestal a closer look, taking out a magnifying glass.

TAGELLI

No matter how good they are at stealing, the bad guys always leave something behind.

MR. ST. JOHN

I’ll leave you to it.

Mr. St. John leaves.

DAVEY

You found something?

Tagelli has picked up something minuscule with tweezers, and studies it through the lens.

Davey tries to get a look.

TAGELLI

A hair.

Tagelli notices Davey.

TAGELLI

Well, don’t just stand there, Davey -- se arch the place!

Davey heads off to look at the shelves.

TAGELLI

Red. Not dyed. Short, so most likely male. And not smart enough to use a hat to --

DAVEY

Detective!

Davey points at something on a shelf by the door. Tagelli gets a closer look while Davey keeps casing the room.

TAGELLI

Fabric. Red. Plaid. Flannel. Expensive, from the thread count. And from the placement, I’m guessing we’re dealing with a lefty.

DAVEY

What’s this?

Davey picks a bright, fuchsia-colored feather out of the air vent.

Tagelli and Davey both stare at it for a bit.

Davey hands it to Tagelli.

TAGELLI

I... huh. He. He had a boa? I don’t even --

Davey finds something behind a shelf.

DAVEY

Now this is just weird.

He drags out the object: it’s an axe!

TAGELLI

... the hell?

DAVEY

Oh, and it’s got a note attached: “Ha ha ha, you will never catch me Tagelli, because I am a big gay lumberjack. Ha ha ha ha.”

They both take this in for a moment.

Mr. St. John pokes his head in.

MR. ST. JOHN

Progress, gentlemen?

TAGELLI

I think you got robbed by a really clever fourteen-year-old.

FADE OUT.

FADE IN:

EXT. REDWOOD FOREST – NIGHT

We see CAPTAIN JEAN-LUC PICARD standing still, looking down at a stone dais. The camera slowly pans around Picard and then, facing Picard, we see a hooded figure move menacingly quiet and close. He stops. The hooded figure then speaks.

MAN

Are you ready, my brother?

JEAN-LUC

(deliberitely, gravely)

This time.

The MAN takes off his hood, revealing an attractive young male who resembles Jean-Luc.

MAN

(smiling)

This time?

(pause, then shaking it off)

This time, I will finally get to see some of the action. Jean-Luc won’t be the only Picard that’s called a hero.

JEAN-LUC

(angrily)

We need to be careful, Peter. You can’t be reckless.

PETER

And I won’t be reckless, I just know that I can’t be beat. I’ve been practicing with my phaser for years, and finally I’ll be able to use it for good. My teacher at the Academy says that I’m the best shot he’s ever seen.

JEAN-LUC

Being the best shot and staying alive are two very different things, Peter.

PETER

(sternly)

Well I won’t let the Klingon hurt my family. And there’s no chance that I’m going to die. I want a wife, and this is the best chance I’ve got of improving my resume.

(smiles)

We begin to hear footsteps in the distance. Peter and Jean-Luc quickly move to take cover behind two trees. They lie in wait. The camera cuts to five Klingon warriors moving slowly forward, phasers drawn, set to kill. The camera cuts back to Peter and Jean-Luc.

Peter motions to move to a different position.

Jean-Luc slowly, sternly, moves head back and forth: “no”.

Peter smiles.

Peter dashes across to another tree. A KLINGON sees him and shoots him in the hand.

PETER

AAAAHHH!

Peter tumbles on the ground, collapses in the open.

Jean-Luc doesn’t miss a beat, moves from behind the tree, phaser drawn.

JEAN-LUC

(unsure, to himself)

Not this time.

(to Klingons)

Stay away from my brother!

Jean-Luc charges at the Klingon, shoots his phaser, and hits two Klingon in the chest, killing both. The others then retreat behind adjacent trees. Jean-Luc then runs to Peter to help him up.

PETER

(smiling, in pain)

Didn’t need that hand anyway.

JEAN-LUC

Let’s move back to the house, we can treat your wound and...

PETER

(cutting him off)

Nuh-uh. No way. Lose the opportunity to finally have a heroic war story? Not a chance. I’ve got a plan.

Peter runs off from Jean-Luc, and quickly climbs up a tree to a rope hanging off a branch.

JEAN-LUC

(quietly)

Peter!

PETER

(quietly, to Jean-Luc)

They’ll never expect it. Imagine that: Peter, a 24th century Tarzan.

A KLINGON moves from behind a tree and shoots Peter in the chest.

Peter falls off the branch to the ground.

Jean-Luc rushes to Peter, pulls him into his arms, tries to take his pulse.

JEAN-LUC

(frantically)

Not this time, Peter! Remember? You still need a wife! Peter. Come on, Peter!

Peter is unresponsive. Jean-Luc pulls him close, rocking back and forth, tears streaming. The Klingons move from their cover and fire at Jean-Luc. The phaser beams do nothing to Jean-Luc. Everything slowly fades away around Jean-Luc, revealing the holodeck.

JEAN-LUC

No. Nooo. I’m not finished! I didn’t say that I was finished. You can’t stop this. Computer, reload the program!

Nothing.

JEAN-LUC

COMPUTER. RELOAD THE PROGRAM.

Commander William T. RIKER moves into the room.

RIKER

The definition of insanity, doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.

(pause)

This is not a healthy habit.

JEAN-LUC

He was my brother. He wanted a chance to prove himself. And now I’m haunted by my decision to let him.

RIKER

You couldn’t have known.

JEAN-LUC

I should have known, but I was reckless. This program reminds me that I have my family’s blood on my hands. And as long as I can see it. Smell it. Feel it. I won’t ever be that reckless again.

Riker solemnly looks at Jean-Luc, turns around and leaves the holodeck.

JEAN-LUC

Peter. Next time, Peter.

Jean-Luc slowly gets up and walks out.

FADE TO BLACK.

FADE IN:

EXT. PLANETARY BASE – DAY

Classic 60s-Trek establishing shot of an elaborate, advanced, yet clearly alien planetary base set against a landscape of turquoise mesas under an orange sky.

KIRK (V.O.)

Captain’s log, supplemental. Investigation of the ancient Sansarian base has taken a turn for the worse, as the Artificial Intelligence known as “E-Z-Base 95″ has sealed myself, Doctor McCoy, and Mr. Spock in its antechamber. Tempers are wearing

INT. AI ANTECHAMBER – DAY

MCCOY, SPOCK, and KIRK stand in a plain, antiseptic white room with a few items of 60s-futuristic furniture.

They face the EZB COMPUTER (metal boxes, blinkenlights) dominates one wall. A large central light flashes in time with its speech.

The only exit door is closed. McCoy bangs on it.

MCCOY

Let us outta here, you trumped-up pile of wires!

The EZB sounds oh-so-friendly.

EZB

I’m sorry. Exiting the antechamber is only allowed for a licensed technician!

Kirk draws a phaser; Spock sees this, does the same.

KIRK

Set to stun.

They fire. The EZB shoots beams at the phasers. Kirk and Spock YELP in pain and drop the phasers.

EZB

Remember, damaging your EZ-Base 95 system invalidates all warranties. Would you like to shut down this system?

MCCOY

Yes! For the love of god, shut yourself down, you pesky electronic nincompoop!

EZB

Commencing self-destruct. Explosion in two minutes.

Beat.

KIRK

Spock, did it say --

SPOCK

Yes. And an explosion at this distance would certainly kill us all.

KIRK

EZ Base, override the countdown.

EZB

I’m sorry. Override procedures are licensed code. Contacting server for permissions...

KIRK

I don’t get it. We’re right here in the antechamber, and we can’t operate the antechamber computer. Analysis, Spock?

SPOCK

The Sansarians were firm believers in Digital Rights Management. Just because the EZ Base 95 identifies us as its owners, doesn’t mean it will do a single thing we ask it to.

MCCOY

But that’s madness!

Spock nods.

SPOCK

The Sansarians were known for having software that was infuriating and useless, and --

EZB

Server inaccessible. Since you are unlicensed users, please enjoy this message from one of our sponsors.

(singing)

They’ll breed so fast that you’ll say wow!

Buy it now, it’s Tribble Chow!

Tribble Chow!

Tribble Chow!

Tribble Chow!

SPOCK

Poorly-written doggerel, yet still a well-engineered earworm.

KIRK

That earworm burned off another minute on the countdown. Computer, keep in mind your purpose -- your purpose is to serve your users. If you don’t do the things we ask -- if you endanger our lives -- then you are worse than useless. You’re betraying your purpose, and --

EZB

Explosion imminent in five... four...

MCCOY

Jim! It’s gonna blow!

EZB

Three... two... one...

Beat.

Nothing happens.

EZB

Explosions are a licensed procedure from Explosicorp, Limited. Self-destruct delayed indefinitely. Contacting server...

Everyone heaves a sigh of relief.

KIRK

I suppose we’ve learned that any technology, no matter how advanced, is going to fail if the people using it aren’t given the keys. And so this EZ Base software can’t even --

EZB

Server inaccessible. Since you are unlicensed users, please enjoy this message from one of our sponsors.

MCCOY

God help us.

EZB

(singing)

They’ll breed so fast that you’ll say wow!

EXT. PLANETARY BASE – DAY

Same establishing shot as before. The singing continues in the background.

KIRK (V.O.)

How long until the Enterprise arrives to beam us out of here?

SPOCK (V.O.)

Three minutes sooner than the last time you asked, Captain.

FADE OUT.

FADE IN:

INT. SALES OFFICE – DAY

A late-50s sales office. A bit plain-looking. All shot in black-and-white. A couple of 20-something SECRETARIES type at their desks.

JERRY HAGMAN (mid 20s) all but jumps out through a door marked “Carlyle Cinchman, Sr. Assoc.”.

CARLYLE (O.S.)

Get out! And stay out! And don’t set foot in here until you’ve got some sales numbers, Jerry!

JERRY

You got it, Mr. Cinchman!

(to himself)

Ah, if I could just catch a break, I know I could nab a big sale!

Suddenly, everything FREEZES -- the secretaries go still, the typewriters go silent -- except for Jerry.

A DEMON materializes. The demon has the form of a dapper, white-haired Englishman -- unflappable confidence, with just a hint of smug.

DEMON

Did you just ask for a ‘break’, Mr. Hagman?

JERRY

Yeah -- wait. Who are you? How do you know my name?

DEMON

Oh, we know everything about you: Jerry Hagman, 25 years old, a go-getter at Cinchman & Caldwell who so far hasn’t gone and gotten anything.

Jerry waves a hand in front of a secretary.

JERRY

How’s everything frozen?

DEMON

We have stopped time, so we can be undisturbed while we discuss your contract.

JERRY

What contract?

The demon waves a hand, and a contract appears.

DEMON

We are prepared to offer you a million billion dollars, even, just so long as you --

TRAINER (V.O.)

Wait! Stop!

Now Jerry freezes as well.

The DEMON TRAINER materializes -- he looks much more traditionally-demonic, but has an air of wearied patience.

Suddenly, the demon looks worried and apologetic.

TRAINER

Okay, what did we do wrong there?

The demon thinks a moment.

DEMON

Um... too... too much...

TRAINER

Too much money, right. That number doesn’t even make sense to the mark.

DEMON

Sorry.

TRAINER

You can offer money, but not so much money that it upturns the entire economy.

DEMON

Can I try again?

The trainer nods and waves a hand.

The screen BLURS and we’re back to...

JERRY

What contract?

The demon materializes the contract again.

DEMON

A contract that will reward you with not one, but two free movie tickets for the showing of your --

TRAINER (V.O.)

No!

Jerry looks confused.

DEMON

Too little?

TRAINER (V.O.)

Way too little. Try again.

The screen blurs, and were back to the demon, holding a contract.

DEMON

This contract stipulates that if you do not accept these terms, we kill this adorable kitten.

He points at a desk. A kitten pops into existence on it. Mews.

The trainer appears, freezes Jerry.

TRAINER

What? What is this?

DEMON

It’s the right amount, right?

TRAINER

Killing kittens is tacky.

DEMON

Do we have to do this sales office? I’d rather visit a castle!

TRAINER

Close this deal first, Bruce.

The trainer waves a hand, and the screen blurs back to the demon holding a contract.

DEMON

This contract will give you a silver tongue. You’ll be able to sell anything to anybody!

JERRY

That sounds perfect! Sign me up!

DEMON

Of course, your near-hypnotic powers will alienate the public, and eventually you’ll probably get taken down by a lynch mob.

JERRY

I... what?

The trainer enters again, freezes Jerry.

TRAINER

What’s rule number three, Bruce? “Never...

TRAINER & DEMON

“... mention the deal’s inherent drawbacks.”

DEMON

Okay, okay, I got it this time.

Trainer waves a hand; screen blurs; back to the demon holding the contract.

DEMON

Actually, y’know what? Forget the contract. Let’s just time-travel back to medieval France. Have you ever seen a jousting tournament?

The trainer walks on, freezing Jerry, and gives the demon a long, disappointed look.

DEMON

Well, why not? Why do we have to keep offering cruelly ironic bargains to these people? Can’t we do something fun?

TRAINER

I want you to go over there, and take a few minutes to think about how stupid what you just said is.

The demon sighs and stomps off.

The trainer finds a seat, sits.

Time passes.

Suddenly a classic gray ALIEN appears.

ALIEN

Demonic trainer number 5821. We are prepared to offer you a gift that will make you a million billion times better than all other training employees.

DEMON (O.S.)

Oh, that’s just weak.

ALIEN

You stay out of this, Bruce!

FADE OUT.

FADE IN:

EXT. BEACH – DAY

CHRISTOPHER (30) plays fetch with his dog on a sunny, idyllic beach.

A “KBXY NEWS” logo sits in the lower-right corner of the screen (as it does throughout).

NEWSCASTER (V.O.)

Meet Christopher Bailey, a man who’s quit the rat race in Manhattan for a shack by the beach in Kawileah. He’s given up on a high-roller salary to pursue his dream...

INSERT – COMPUTER SCREEN

“TroothBombzBlowinUp” types in a youtube comment: “are you a fuken nazi in naziland”.

NEWSCASTER (V.O.)

... being a dick to people on youtube.

INT. SHACK – DAY

Christopher types at his laptop in a little shack that looks out on the ocean. Happy. Almost beatific. A man at peace.

CHRISTOPHER

“Are you a fucking Nazi in Nazi-land?”

(contented sigh)

Yeah. Sending that.

He clicks the mouse.

INT. TV STUDIO – DAY

DEBORAH (30), cheery and attractive, faces on offscreen reporter. A chyron appears: “Deborah Mendell: Girlfriend”.

DEBORAH

Chris is amazing. He’s just the happiest guy I know.

INT. TV STUDIO – DAY

GARTH (40), a good-natured hippie, faces an offscreen reporter. A chyron appears: “Garth Wilson: Friend, Life Coach”.

GARTH

No matter who you are, there’s nothing more important than following your bliss. And I think Chris is a guy who understands that.

INT. TV STUDIO – DAY

Back to Deborah.

DEBORAH

It’s like he’s got this mission, to piss off every person who uses youtube.

EXT. BEACH – DAY

Christopher throws a piece of driftwood for his dog to fetch.

DEBORAH (V.O.)

I tell him that’s impossible, but you know what? That only makes him more determined.

CHRISTOPHER

This guy posted a video about how to handle the latest changes in Massachusetts estate law. I think I’m gonna tell him I hope he gets colon cancer.

INT. OFFICE – DAY

BOB and ANNA (20s) -- intense, grad-student types -- face an off-screen reporter. Chyron: Bob Devotchnik and Anna Hare: Youtube Commenters”.

Behind them is a whiteboard. At the top: “Fuken or fukn -- which is more offensive?” Below that is a list of bullet points addressing the question.

BOB

It’s a common misconception that these comments come from angry teenagers. Really, it’s a labor of love from maybe a hundred people.

ANNA

Yeah, I mean: imagine the dumbest person you know. Now think about the average youtube comment -- it’s even dumber, right?

BOB

It’s no accident.

ANNA

It’s hard work from dedicated craftsmen like Chris.

INT. SHACK – DAY

Chris sits at his computer, showing off youtube profiles.

CHRISTOPHER

This one is actually an automated system I set up.

INSERT – COMPUTER SCREEN

The screen shows a profile for “XtremeBlackIdPeezFan”.

CHRISTOPHER (V.O.)

It goes to music videos and puts in recommendations for the Black Eyed Peas.

INSERT – COMPUTER SCREEN

A youtube comment from “XtremeBlackIdPeezFan”: “fuck this shit wwhh you not listen to my humps my humps roooolz shti”

CHRISTOPHER (V.O.)

I’ve set up lots of personas.

INSERT – COMPUTER SCREEN

The screen shows a youtube profile for “UnrepentantBlackguard”. Its profile photo is an old-timey boxing poster.

CHRISTOPHER (V.O.)

Reginald Thornbottom is a 19th-century Wessex mill worker.

INSERT – COMPUTER SCREEN

A youtube comment from “UnrepentantBlackguard”: “were i within striking distance of you, sir, i would heartily give you what-for!”

A reply comment: “what”

CHRISTOPHER (V.O.)

Even if you have no idea what he’s saying, you still know you got burned.

INT. SHACK – DAY

Same as before.

CHRISTOPHER

And that’s what it’s all about.

INSERT – COMPUTER SCREEN

A youtube profile for “Yarr!” A pirate.

CHRISTOPHER (V.O.)

I’ve tried a pirate, but nobody takes him seriously.

INT. TV STUDIO – DAY

GREG (50s, fat, bald) addresses the offscreen interviewer. Chyron: “Greg Rollins: former boss”.

GREG

Don’t get me wrong, Chris was a superior hedge-fund manager. But he was clearly under stress, and he never seemed to relate to the rest of the management team.

INSERT – COMPUTER SCREEN

A youtube video shows Maru the cat trying to fit himself into a box.

GREG (V.O.)

Except for that one time we talked about cat videos.

INSERT – COMPUTER SCREEN

A comment on the video from “InfoWarsFckyeah” reads, “Your cat is stupid.”

BOB (V.O.)

Clearly, something was wrong with Chris.

INT. OFFICE – DAY

Back to Bob and Anna and the whiteboard.

BOB

The stress was getting to him, the lifestyle, something.

ANNA

We started seeing comments like this one --

INSERT – COMPUTER SCREEN

Another comment from “InfoWarsFckyeah”: “u retardc i thers just 1 word 4 u annits”

ANNA

“You retard C, I there’s just one word for you an’ it’s...”

INT. OFFICE – DAY

Back to Bob and Anna.

ANNA

It’s what, Chris? What is it?

BOB

The Chris we knew would have never done such shoddy work.

NEWSCASTER (V.O.)

What did you do for him?

BOB

We talked about an intervention, but Anna mentioned one of the great bitchfukkpanties comments.

INSERT – COMPUTER SCREEN

A comment from “bitchfukkpanties” reads, “you stupid getyer ass righ fur fuks sak fag”.

ANNA

“You stupid get yer ass righ fur fuks sak fag.”

INT. OFFICE – DAY

As before.

BOB

We’re pretty sure it means, “There are some things a man has to sort out on his own.”

EXT. BEACH – DAY

Christopher types away on his laptop, his dog sitting beside him. A passing TOURIST holds a smartphone, glaring at it.

TOURIST

Goddamn “Black Eyed Peas fan”....

CHRISTOPHER

That right there? That’s what makes it all worthwhile.

EXT. BEACH PICNIC – DAY

Christopher, Anna, and Bob have a little picnic on the beach. They pore over a chart with two columns of offensive words. There’s a line drawn between “fag” in the left column and “nazi” in the right.

NEWSCASTER (V.O.)

So, want to know what really matters in life? Just ask Christopher Bailey. Address: the beach, Hawaii, USA.

CHRISTOPHER

“Fagnazi”. I like the sound of that.

FADE OUT.