1 COMPUTER SCREEN
Opening credit sequence.
A montage of photos of the body lying face down on the pavement, wearing an Eye-of-Horus t-shirt; taken from within a small crowd of masked onlookers.
A masked policeman holds his hands up, clearly asking them to practice ‘social distancing’; to move on.
In none of the photos is the identity of the dead person clear, in part because s/he is lying face down and in part as a result of the blonde hair falling over his/her face
Ambulance personnel, dressed in full Hazmat suits, secure the body in a bag, place it on a trolley and slide it into the back of the ambulance.
2 EXT. HEADLAND. PRE-DAWN
A gentle melody is hummed softly.
In soft pre-dawn light, close on a profusion of overgrown green shrubbery, dotted with yellow and purple flowers. Above, a powder blue sky streaked with orange clouds.
Pan to reveal the ocean, sparkling reflected orange and blue, stretching to a horizon exploding gold as the sun moves to burst into the sky.
Gabriel films the sunrise with his smart phone, lowers it, looks out to sea, smiling; humming to himself. Contented. Propped up behind him: his battered bicycle.
3 EXT. COASTAL ROAD. SUNRISE
Gabriel rides his bicycle along a coastal road; framed by a vast ocean bathed in early morning light. He hums the same melody, alter it slightly; composing in his head.
4 EXT. RAMSHACKLE BEACH COTTAGE. EARLY MORNING
As Gabriel walks up the steps alongside an old ramshackle beach cottage, he waves to his neighbor, COLIN, fifty’ish, sitting on the ground in his garden, steaming cup of tea in one hand, a pair of secateurs in the other.
GABRIEL (excited)
Did you see that?
COLIN (smiles)
Magnificent.
5 INT. RAMSHACKLE BEACH COTTAGE. EARLY MORNING
Gabriel, humming his melody, walks into a messy Living Room littered with a variety of musical instruments, books, old newspapers, photos, clothes etc. A bachelor’s pad.
Through the window the ocean can be seen.
He heads straight for his synth, sits and plays the melody he has been humming. He stops, thinks for a moment, plays the melody again; modifying it. He is happy with it.
A LITTLE LATER
Drinking a cup of tea, Gabriel watches the last few seconds of his sunrise movie on his computer screen as it compresses into a file.
He opens a Dropbox; places the file in it.
A LITTLE LATER
Gabriel sits in front of his computer, headphones on, base guitar in hand – adding a base line to the synth melody he was playing earlier. Onscreen: A sound-mixing program sits under the moving image of the sunrise.
A computer ‘ding’ announces the arrival of a message. He stops playing, opens a Zoom window. A middle aged bearded man with ruffled shaggy hair appears; his face broken by an excited smile. This is Charlie.
CHARLIE
Beautiful sunrise, Gabs. Beautiful.
GABRIEL
Yes. Magic.
CHARLIE
Wish I was there.
GABRIEL
I’m glad you’re not. How’s things in your...neck of the woods?
CHARLIE
Fucking hotel. I hate hotels. I want to come home.
(indicates moving image of sunrise)
I miss...that. God, I miss that.
GABRIEL
Inspired me...I’m working on something. Wanna hear it?
He indicates the guitar in his hands.
CHARLIE (laughs)
Later, Pal. Hey, I need you to do something for me.
GABRIEL
Sure.
CHARLIE
If you go to that dresser back there, close to the kitchen, with the old CDs stacked on it..
Gabriel stands, puts to guitar down, walks to the dresser
CHARLIE
Third drawer down…I think...maybe second...you’ll find a folder...red...with a bank statement I need to get a copy of...tax stuff...
Gabriel does as instructed, finds he red folder; holds it up.
GABRIEL
This one?
CHARLIE
That’s the one. If you can scan it for me and...
GABRIEL
Done.
6 INT. CAMMIE’S BEDROOM. DAY
Cammie, her hair a mess, wearing sweat pants, Eye-of Horus t-shirt and earphone, sits at her computer watching a news report. On the table beside the bed behind her there are two empty wine glasses and an empty Rosé bottle.
NEWS REPORTER
“Drones used to be weapons of war, but now they can be found in every department store.”
Two other windows re open on Cammie’s computer:
Sleuth Syndicate
Web Sleuth
NEWS REPORTER
“Are they just for fun or could creeps be recording your private moments to post online?”
A montage. Dramatized sequence. Young woman sun-baking in her back yard. Drone in the sky filming her.
NEWS REPORTER
“They’re the eyes in the sky with their sights set on you.”
There is a loud knock on the door, followed by:
CAMMIE’S MUM (voice off)
I’m home. Want to chat?
CAMMIE
OK
NEWS REPORTER
“Remember the days when your biggest problem was a neighbour peering over the back fence.”
Cammie closes the windows on her computer. Opens Zoom. Her mother, LINDA, early 40s, appears in a window; in a bathroom; clothed; washing her hands. Cammie is happy to see her.
CAMMIE
Hi
LINDA
Hi
7 INT. BATHROOM. DAY
Linda, wearing a dressing gown now, her hair wet, having just got out of the shower, throws her clothes into a washing machine as she looks at the digital slate propped up on the sink. Cammie berates her mother from a window.
CAMMIE
No, he stood in the doorway, gave me a parcel, we talked for a bit and he left. End of story.
LINDA
What kind of parcel?
CAMMIE
Mum, get off my back for fuck’s sake. Do I interrogate you about... everything? Fuck.
LINDA
You use that word far too much, darling
CAMMIE
You respect my privacy and I won’t need to say ‘fuck’ all the time.
Linda walks up, looks closely the window with Cammie in it.
LINDA
He didn’t stay for a glass of wine?
8 INT. CAMMIE’S BEDROOM. DAY
CAMMIE (indignant)
No, he didn’t.
Linda, in her window, turns her head to one side; raises her eyebrows: “Really!?”
Cammie turns, sees the two empty wine glasses, realizes that Linda has seen them.
CAMMIE
OK, he did, but we were never closer than 6 feet.
LINDA
OK, darling. Just be careful, OK?
CAMMIE
You’re the one who needs to be careful. I hate that you work in that hospital.
LINDA
If you got sick, you’d want someone to take good care of you, wouldn’t you?
CAMMIE
Yes, but not you.
LINDA
Someone else’s mum? Or dad?
CAMMIE
How was your day?
LINDA
Sad. Very sad.
CAMMIE
Oh. I’m sorry. I wish I could see you.
LINDA
I wish I could see you too, darling heart. (A BEAT) Now...I need to sleep. Love you.
CAMMIE
Love you, too. Hug?
Cammie holds out her arms. Linda does likewise. They both hug their digital devices.
LATER
Cammie finishes making her bed, picks up the two empty wine glasses and empty bottle of Rosé, puts the bottle in a garbage bin and carries the glasses into the ensuite bathroom.
She emerges a moment later, walks back into her bedroom; picks up a small parcel on her 3-mirror dresser; unwraps it; takes out a box with a photo of a Go Pro on it.
9 INT. SANDY’S BEDROOM. DAY
Sandy, sweating profusely, wearing boxer shorts only, works out in his bedroom, to the sound of pumping music. He lifts weights, does abdominal scrunches, squats, push-ups, skips, uses his running machine. His body glistens with sweat as he pushes himself harder and harder. Sandy is lean, all muscle, well-built. A hunk.
Posters, a football jersey hanging on a wall, a signed football, press clippings and a couple of trophies on his dresser suggest that he is a champion footballer.
His computer announces the arrival of a message. He turns off his running machine, picks up a towel, wipes his face, dries his hands, walks to his computer, sits; activates Zoom.
A woman, early 30s, smiles out at him.
IMOGEN
Hi, Gabriel. Is this a good time?
SANDY
As good as any.
IMOGEN
You look as though you’ve been working out?
SANDY
Sorry, I’ve completely forgotten your name.
IMOGEN
Imogen. From “The Telegraph”.
SANDY
Of course. Hi. Yes, two hours a day. Minimum.
IMOGEN
Gotta keep fit, I guess.
(Sandy smiles; nods)
Let’s hope they lift the ban soon.
SANDY
Fingers crossed.
He crosses his fingers.
IMOGEN
Do you mind if I record this?
SANDY
No worries.
IMOGEN
What do you miss the most?
SANDY
I miss playing, of course. The games. But I reckon I miss hanging out with my mates the most.
IMOGEN
Do you zoom them?
SANDY
Yeah, but it’s not the same.
IMOGEN
So, how do you fill your days now? (A BEAT) Catch up on your reading?
SANDY
No...reading’s not really my thing. I’m dyslexic, so...
IMOGEN
Oh...Movies?
SANDY (laughs)
There’s nothing on Netflix I haven’t seen.
IMOGEN
So, you keep fit, watch a lot of TV and...?
SANDY
I’m on the computer a lot. Facebook. Wasting time. Surfing.
IMOGEN
What do you search for?
SANDY
Look, I don’t want to be rude but...I love football, hate that I can’t play, hope they open the season up soon, but I don’t really have anything intelligent to say. I’m just a guy who likes football…with no opinions about anything.
IMOGEN
That’s not what came out in “Celebrity Survivor”.
SANDY
That was a mistake. A big mistake.
IMOGEN
Why?
Sandy laughs, shakes his head; grimaces; holds his hands up; doesn’t want to talk about it.
IMOGEN
What?
SANDY
Nothing.
IMOGEN
Do you want me to stop recording?
SANDY
Yes, that’s a good idea.
Imogen stops recording.
IMOGEN
Off the record.
SANDY
Right off?
IMOGEN
Right off.
SANDY
If I’d known how powerful those telescopic lenses are...
IMOGEN
Michelle was not impressed.
Sandy smiles, grimaces; face-palms.
IMOGEN
So, you going to tell me which contestant it was?
SANDY
If I had a dollar for every time someone asked me that...
Sandy holds his hands up: end of subject.
IMOGEN
OK. It was worth a try.
SANDY
Next question?
IMOGEN
Another personal question? Not for publication. Off the record. This is just me....asking.
SANDY
Mmmm, depends on the question. Fire away.
IMOGEN
You’re an attractive man...
SANDY (smiles)
Thank you, Imogen. ( BEAT) And you are an attractive woman.
IMOGEN (smiles)
And...well, you have had a few girlfriends...
SANDY
Not as many as you journalists think.
IMOGEN
Still, a few...high profile... partners...including Michelle.
(Sandy nods)
And now you’re locked in your room and...well, it’s kind of difficult to meet new...partners when you can’t go out...except online, of course... and you’re single now, right?
SANDY (laughs)
So, what’s your personal question, Imogen?
IMOGEN
Do you miss...female company?
SANDY
Do you miss male company? I’m guessing you don’t have a boyfriend?
IMOGEN
What makes you think that?
SANDY
The questions you’re asking me.
Imogen looks at him for a long moment; blushes.
IMOGEN
Well, no...I don’t have a boyfriend and...yes...I miss male company.
SANDY
What do you miss?
IMOGEN
Hey, I’m supposed to be interviewing you.
SANDY
And? Come, out with it, Imogen. What do you miss the most?
Imogen is lost for words. Sandy smiles.
10 EXT. APARTMENT BLOCKS. NIGHT
The POV of a drone camera:
Moving from a deserted street, filled with upmarket apartment blocks, up the side of a building. We catch glimpses on verandahs, through windows, of families eating dinner, watching TV, exercising etc. Normal life during a pandemic.
It is not clear whether the drone is looking for something in particular or just snooping.
The drone passes a verandah, on the other side of which are sliding glass doors; across which curtains have been partly drawn. The Drone moves closer, sees a couple of people sitting at a table, continues to move upwards to the next floor, before stopping, hesitating for a moment, then moving back down to the verandah to take a closer look.
The drone moves closer to the sliding doors; close enough to reveal not just two people sitting at a dinner table, but half a dozen YOUNG PEOPLE (20s and 30s) sit around a table, eating, drinking, laughing, talking; socializing.
The drone moves closer to the gap in the curtains. The shot zooms in a little - revealing a few moments of the kind of interaction between friends that would be unremarkable under any other than pandemic social distancing circumstances.
11 INT. LI NA’S BEDROOM. NIGHT
Li Na sits at her computer, on the screen of which can be seen the dinner party being filmed by the drone.
She uses the drone control in her hand to zoom in closer still on the happy young dinner party group.
Close on Li Na. Her face expresses the mix of conflicting emotions she feels about spying on the dinner party participants.
An elderly Chinese woman pops up in a Zoom window. Li Na’s grandmother, known as NAI NAI. She speaks in Chinese.
NAI NAI (subtitled)
Hello my treasure.
Li Na’s face lights up with a smile.
LI NA (subtitled)
Hello Nai Nai. How are you?
12 INT. ROOM IN AGED CARE FACILITY. NIGHT
Nai Nai is sitting alone in a wheelchair in a small room; a small dog curled up in her lap. Nai Nai speaks in broken English now.
NAI NAI
Bored. There’s no-one to talk to. Just old people. Everywhere I look, old people. And most of them have lost their marbles.
(Li Na laughs)
When are you coming to visit me?
LI NA
You know I can’t.
NAI NAI
You could sneak in late at night. I could let you in my window.
LI NA
I would love to but...we would both get into trouble.
NAI NAI
I would like some trouble in my life, Li Na. It’s been a long time since I had any.
LI NA
How’s Minnie?
Nai Nai smiles, strokes the dog in her lap.
NAI NAI
I need more than a dog to keep me company.
LI NA
I know. I’m so sorry.
NAI NAI
I want to die, but not before you come to visit me.
LI NA
You’re not going to die, Nai Nai.
NAI NAI
I’m tired, Li Na. I’ve had a good life but...please come and visit me. Hold my hand. One last time.
Tears well in Li Na’s eyes. She shakes her head.
LI NA
I don’t want you to die.
Nai Nai reaches out with her hand, holds it close to the camera, so that it is large in frame on Li Na’s monitor. Li Nar reaches out, places her hand on Nai Nai’s.
13 INT. FATIMA’S BEDROOM. DAY
FATIMA, 19, dark-skinned, dark-haired, of Middle Eastern extraction, sits in front of her computer; alongside which are different coloured wigs - red, green, blue, blonde.
She is wearing track suit pants, a sloppy joe; no make-up.
Onscreen:
Cammie looks directly out at Fatima. This is the POV of the camera Cammie was talking to in Ep # 1.
CAMMIE
Hi. Welcome to my prison.
Where to begin? Home schooling!?
Fatima uses her mouse to fast-forward through to:
Cammie reading:
CAMMIE
“With his lips on mine and one hand lightly caressing my breasts, his other hand...”
NOTE: This scene is jump-cut; moves fast. Very few pauses. With a couple of exceptions later in the scene.
As Fatima fast-forwards, she applies layers of foundation to her face.
Cammie shakes her head up and down to give it volume, looks directly into the camera; flirting theatrically:
CAMMIE
You like? (A BEAT) I like that thing you posted on Tik Tok. Funny as!
Remote control device in her hand, Cammie moves to her dressing table, sits on a swivel stool with her back to its three mirrors, points the remote control at us again.
CAMMIE
So here’s how it works, Sis.
The shot zooms in closer on her.
CAMMIE
You make a video, send it to me, I send it to the others, we look at it and decide if you are ‘one of us’ or…not one of us. Okay?
Fatima applies blue lipstick to her lips as Cammie, onscreen:
...points the remote control at the camera.
CAMMIE
Do you think about dying?
She looks at the mirror reflection of the camera filming her; directly us.
CAMMIE
I do. A lot. I don’t want to die and yet...
(She touches her wrist)
...it wasn’t long ago that I thought that dying was the best way out of this...
Fatima paints blue tears under her eyes.
CAMMIE
So much sadness...too much...Now that people I know are dying and...hey, I could be one of them....I want to live. I don’t want to die. And if they can’t invent a vaccine...Fuck!
Cammie snaps from reflective mood; back into ‘playful’.
CAMMIE
But if it is not to be, hey! It is what it is...eat, drink and be merry for tomorrow we will die, someone famous once said.
Fatima changes from her track suit pants and sloppy joe into the very bizarre, exotic and very colourful outfit she wore in the Tik Tok music clip, as:
Cammie takes another sip of her pink Rosé; sits down on the swivel stool, leans close to the mirrors applies highlighter to her eyebrows.
CAMMIE
I don’t want to overdo it with the make-up. I mean...
(she sips her wine)
...it’s not like I’m going out to a club or anything and want to look better than all the other girls. No-one but my date...his name is Sandy, by the way...is going to see me.
Fatima fast-forwards again to:
Cammie laughing; Sandy smiling as he takes a swig of his beer.
CAMMIE
No, I have never ever, in my whole life, engaged in online sexual activity of any kind.
Sandy laughs as Cammie stands, undoes her skirt, lets it drop to the floor; stands self-consciously in her bra and knickers.
Sandy stands, takes his shorts off, stands facing Cammie, wearing only his y-front briefs.
Fatima fast-fowards to:
Cammie frozen, unsure which to give her attention to first – the drone or the person at the front door.
As she watches, Fatima decides which wig to put on: blonde.
Cammie decides on the front door, moves towards it and is in the process of unlocking it when she remembers the camera filming her, looks directly at it; reaches for the correct remote control device. As she does so, the drone moves a little further into the room, turns so that its camera is pointed at her. Cammie does not notice this, as it is happening behind her. She presses the right button and the image disappears.
Fatima thinks for a moment; unsure what to make of all this.
A face pops up on screen:
Her pink-haired and pink lipsticked singing partner - AMELIA - from the Tik Tok clip. She is very excited.
AMELIA
You seen the stats. 1.2 Million and growing fast.
FATIMA (delighted)
Hey.
AMELIA
I’ve got some ideas I want to run by you for this next one...
14 INT. LI NA'S BEDROOM. NIGHT
Li Na looks at a frozen image of the dinner party; minimizes the window in which it appears. It contracts back into a folder filled with .mov files.
She opens her Proton account: LeenaTruthShallSetUsFree
Li Na writes a quick message. We do not see what she writes.
Close on computer screen. The Option of ‘attach file’ file appears.
Close on Li Na as she contemplates whether or not to attach the file.
15 INT. FATIMA’S BEDROOM.NIGHT
Fatima and Amelia chat on Zoom.
FATIMA
I’ve stopped watching the news. It’s too scary.
AMELIA (smiles)
I can’t get enough of it…because it is so scary.
FATIMA
Crazy girl.
Another face pops up onscreen. It is Cammie.
CAMMIE
Hi. You Busy?
FATIMA
No.
(to Amelia)
Zoom back soon, OK?
AMELIA
Sweet.
CAMMIE
Sorry about...before.
FATIMA
Before?
CAMMIE
I didn’t really mean for you to see all that...with my ‘date’. Sandy. I picked up the wrong ‘remote’. Duhhh
FATIMA
All what?
Cammie is thrown for a moment; confused.
CAMMIE
You didn’t see...? What was the last thing you saw? Before I turned the camera off?
FATIMA
You said something like...your computer went ‘ding’ and you said “gotta go. More later” or something like that, and....’terminated’ me.
(she smiles)
I figured you had some... ‘situation’ you had to deal with.
CAMMIE (relieved)
Oh, that’s...Mmmm. I thought... never mind. I just wanted...
You ever take your costume off?
FATIMA
No. (A BEAT) Except when I’m under the shower.
CAMMIE (laughs)
Yeah, wouldn’t want your make-up to run.
FATIMA (laughs)
Hey, you can sure can talk up a storm.
CAMMIE
Motor mouth. No ‘pause button’ is what my dad says. Said.
FATIMA
How did your ‘date’ go?
Cammie frowns, makes a ‘so so’ gesture with her hands.
CAMMIE
So so...nothing to write home about. Or wherever you write to when you’re at home all the time. (laughs) So, you still interested?
FATIMA
Yes, I was just about to record something for you.
CAMMIE
We could do it as a...sort of interview, if you like.
FATIMA
An interview?
CAMMIE
I ask you some questions, you answer them.
FATIMA
Um, OK, I guess, but...is this just between you and me?
CAMMIE
Of course.
FATIMA
But what about the other Zoomers?
CAMMIE
I could record it for them.
FATIMA
Um...I’m not sure I’m ready for that.
CAMMIE
Or not. (A BEAT) No worries. Let’s just chat. You got a few minutes?
FATIMA (smiles)
No, my social diary is so so fully full...but I guess I could squeeze you in. For just a few minutes.
They both laugh.
CAMMIE
We’re trying to form a sort of tribe. You know, a bunch of strangers who support each other in whatever way we can. Emotional support.
FATIMA
I’d certainly like some of that.
CAMMIE
We have some rules.
FATIMA
Hey, I’m a Muslim I know about rules. Tell me more.
CAMMIE (laughs)
One of our rules is...we never lie. Total truth-telling. No lies.
FATIMA
Mmmm...Not sure about that.
CAMMIE
Almost total.
FATIMA (laughs)
Is letting someone think something is true when you know it’s not true, the same as lying?
CAMMIE
Depends. It’s OK to have secrets, but...I don’t know. Give me an example.
FATIMA
If you ask me if I like...like, what you are wearing or something, and I don’t like it but don’t want to hurt your feelings and say, “Hey, I really like that,” is that lying? I mean, of course it is, but is that kind of lie OK?
CAMMIE
I guess white lies are OK.
FATIMA
But the black ones are banned, right?
Cammie laughs; thinks for a long moment:
CAMMIE
Okay, here’s a white lie I told you. (A BEAT) Or maybe it’s a grey one.
FATIMA (laughs)
A grey lie!
CAMMIE
My ‘date’ was not really...just ‘so so’.
(Fatima laughs)
It was a guy...I won’t tell you his name...who seems very... sincere... honest...solid...fuck, what’s the right word? Not a flake, let me put it that way. Someone who really touched me, in a way...
FATIMA
Touched you? In cyberspace?
CAMMIE
Obviously not in...the flesh, though I wouldn’t mind if he touched...my flesh. My body. I miss that. Don’t you? Miss being touched? (A BEAT) I never really thought about it when it was so easy to be...to be touched. To touch.
(a long thoughtful pause)
I can’t even hug my mother now, because of the work she does.
FATIMA
What does she do?
CAMMIE
She’s a doctor. Tries to save the lives of people who have ‘the thing’. You know...the thing that we’re all scared shitless of getting. We can’t even be in the same fucking room. Mum and me. I have to Zoom her. How fucked is that. Her bedroom’s only 10 feet away from mine, for fuck’s sake. How fucked is everything? (A BEAT) But, hey, it is what it is and...if there is a God, fuck her. Why is She doing this? If She loves us! I’m probably pressing your buttons, I know, because of your...faith...you’re Muslim, right? ...but if there is a god he’s a fucking man. Gotta be. A woman god wouldn’t do...this. (A BEAT) Actually, I’m not sure that’s true. Women can be bitches, just like men can be cunts. I hope that doesn’t offend you. The word, I mean. Anyhow, where was I...? I’ve been drinking.
She holds up a glass of pink Rosé.
FATIMA
It doesn’t bother me not being able to touch my mum. It’s a relief, actually. She’s a really hugger, my mum, and...it’s a bit much. I feel like I have to hug her back and I don’t really want to. Not sometimes. Sometimes, yeah, OK, but I feel like I’m being pressured into it sometimes. And, I don’t know... fuck...there is so much I don’t know right now. No, let me take another run at that. There is not much I do know.
CAMMIE
Join the fucking club, Sis.
FATIMA
I wish I could drink.
(She indicates Cammie’s Rosé)
What is that?
CAMMIE
Pink Rosé. In vino veritas. You know that that means? In wine there is wisdom. One of my boyfriends told me that...and another gave me this.
She holds up the Rosé bottle.
FATIMA
How many boyfriends do you have?
CAMMIE
Sorry. You are Muslim, right?
FATIMA
Right.
CAMMIE
So, no alcohol, no boyfriends?
FATIMA
Something like that.
CAMMIE
And you’re OK with that?
FATIMA
You think I have a choice?
CAMMIE
You always have a choice. Even if it’s a choice not to choose.
FATIMA
That’s a bit deep for me.
CAMMIE
For me too. Sounds impressive, though, ay? I read it somewhere.
(She sips her wine.)
What’s your mum do?
FATIMA
Since she lost her job...argue with dad a lot at home, bake really cool bread...delicious meals...mum’s an awesome cook...home school my younger brothers...mum stuff. Professional mum and wife.
CAMMIE
And your dad?
FATIMA
He had to close his shop... electronics... but he’s selling stuff online now...with my help...and getting by.
CAMMIE
What does he sell?
FATIMA
Anything that people want to buy. Through Amazon. Crap mainly. The problem is that the longer all this goes the less money people have to buy crap, so...he’s struggling a bit.
CAMMIE
And you?
FATIMA
Uni. Online. Social sciences... majoring in international relations. Ha ha. Nothing we’re being taught is in any way relevant to what is going on now. It’s like a line has been drawn and there was social sciences before the pandemic and there will be...whatever comes after its all over. If it is ever over. I’ll probably stop. I can’t see the point.
CAMMIE
Because?
FATIMA
Even before this...
CAMMIE
I call it ‘the thing’.
FATIMA (laughs)
Even before this ‘thing’ totally fucked up our lives, I was...well, there’s something else I do...that I love...and if there is a way I can find to make some money out of it...
CAMMIE
What?
(Fatima shakes her head)
You’re a closet belly dancer?
FATIMA (laughs)
I can belly dance, actually.
CAMMIE
Show me.
Fatima gestures to her outfit.
FATIMA
A bit difficult with all this on.
CAMMIE
Another time.
FATIMA
Mmmmm...maybe...
CAMMIE
And the thing that you love?
FATIMA (reluctant)
If I show you, this is just between you and me, right?
CAMMIE
Of course.
A LITTLE LATER
On the screen of Fatima’s computer, in a window:
A woman in a black burqa stands on the stage of a comedy club. Open Mike. Only the woman’s eyes can be seen. This has been shot with a mobile phone and is a little wobbly. A woman’s Australian-accented voice, barely recognizable as Fatima’s.
FATIMA
For any Muslims in the audience tonight, remember that the Prophet, peace and blessings of Allah be upon him, disapproved of excessive laughter.
The audience laughter can be heard.
CAMMIE
That’s you?
Fatima smiles; nods. Onscreen:
FATIMA
‘Do not laugh too much,’ he said, ‘for excessive laughter corrupts the heart …’ And he practiced what he preached at least according to Aisha, Muhammad’s six year old bride who said…okay, for those of you who think it might be a bit suss for a 53 year old man to have a 6 year old wife, relax. He didn’t have sex with Aisha until she turned nine…anyhow, this is what Aisha had to say about the Prophet laughing: I never saw the Messenger of Allah, peace and blessings of Allah be upon him, laughing so heartily that his back teeth showed…’
Fatima presses ‘pause’.
CAMMIE
Wow, do your mum and dad know about that?
FATIMA
No way. They’re not devout Muslims or anything, but they expect me to be...well, not devout...but not to shame them... so, I lead a kind of double life, but if mum and dad found out...they’d kill me. Not literally, but...you know. But then my dad’s brother is full on devout and he’s kind of into ‘honour killings.’ He doesn’t admit it but he doesn’t say anything against them when...you know, when the subject arises. As it does. Sometimes. He says, ”I’m not saying I approve of it, but I can understand why they do it.” The brothers and uncles, he means. I never say anything, of course. Nor does dad. His mouth goes all tight and he nods and changes the subject as quickly as possible. Mum looks at him, like...”Why don’t you tell your brother what you really think?” But he puts up this wall and mum knows not to try to break it down. One time she said to my uncle....his name is Mohammed, can you believe it? She said, “We’re living in the 21st century, Mohammed, not the 8th century, out in the desert with our camels.” He went bright red...I thought he was going to have a heart attack, and said, “The Prophet spoke for all centuries.” This was too much for mum. She said, “Nonsense.” Then dad lost it, thumped the table, turned to mum and said, “Do not speak to my brother that way.” And she leaned close to my dad and said...you have to realize that my mother never swears. Never. This is the only time I heard her swear. She leant close to dad and said, “Your brother is a fucking idiot.” Well, you could have heard a pin drop. Everyone froze, waiting for Uncle Mo ...that’s what we kids called him when he wasn’t around...waiting for him to say…or do something. Nothing happened. He was speechless. Dad was speechless. We kids exchanged glances but...I wanted to laugh but I didn’t think it was a great idea. So did my younger brother, Farid, and we had to look away from each other or we would have both burst out...Then mum said, “Guess what we have for dessert?” She got up from the table, collected plates and went into the kitchen and dad said, to me...this is when we were all still going to school, obviously...”Fatima, what was the most interesting thing you learned at school today?” I didn’t know what to say. I had actually learned something very interesting at school that day...or, should I say, that week, but I couldn’t tell my dad, so I had to think of something that he...and my uncle would approve of and said something like...”That some of the men who signed the Declaration of Independence’ owned slaves. Dad just nodded, looked at his brother, who said, “That was a different time. Things were different then.” And dad said, quietly, not wanting to piss Uncle Mo off too much, “And they weren’t in the 8th when the Prophet married Aisha?” By now, mum was standing in the doorway carrying a glass bowl of fruit salad...mum makes a good fruit salad. And she said, “And how old was Aisha when she was married off to Mohammad, Mohammad? Six, wasn’t it?” Uncle Mo went bright red, started shaking and we thought he was going to explode and we all froze, waiting for Uncle Mo to ...we had no idea...He stood up, walked up to mum, glared at her, held out his hands, wanting to take the fruit salad from her, it seemed. We all froze. What is going to happen now? Mum gave him the bowl. He stood there for a long moment, his hands trembling. He looked quite crazy. He looked at dad, then at us kids, one by one, then back at mum. Then he lifted the bowl above his head, turned it upside down and tipped the fruit salad over his head.
CAMMIE
No way.
FATIMA
Yes, way. And then he calmly put the empty bowl on the table and walked out of the room.
CAMMIE
Fuck.
FATIMA
Yes, fuck. And, speaking of ‘fuck’... the strangest thing happened that night...None of us talked about what had happened…with Uncle Mo and the fruit salad. We acted as if nothing had...we had ice cream for dessert...but, later ...I was walking back from the bathroom, late, all the lights were out and everyone else was asleep, or so I thought. I heard my mother moaning. My first thought was she was in pain, but as I got closer to the bedroom door...I...realized that it was not pain mum was...experiencing...I stood close to the door and listened for a long time as mum moaned and moaned and moaned and then had an orgasm....and then...she laughed, so happily, and said to dad, “You are a wicked monster.” And dad laughed. And they laughed together.
Fatima has tears in her eyes.
CAMMIE
Wow! Love is fucking weird, ay?
Fatima smiles through her tears; nods.
CAMMIE
What was it you had learned a school that day you couldn’t tell your dad?
FATIMA
It’s times like this I wish I could have a drink.
CAMMIE
What’s stopping you?
FATIMA (shrugs)
I don’t know. I don’t want to lie to mum and dad if they ask, I guess.
CAMMIE
But you lie to them about your comedy routine!
FATIMA
No, I just don’t tell them.
CAMMIE
If they asked, “Fatty...”does anyone call you Fatty?...
(Fatima frowns; smiles; nods)
“Fatty, have You been performing comedy routines that make fun of the Prophet? What would you say.”
FATIMA
They would never ask.
CAMMIE
You hope. (A BEAT) So, back to your story.
Fatima is reluctant to continue, but overcomes it.
FATIMA
Well, there was a bunch of us in the change room at the back of the gym...boys and girls...and the gym teacher had gone to pick up some equipment or something and we had 20 or so minutes to kill and someone said...I think it was Andy, “Well, we can do whatever we like now. For a change.” And Carrie said, “What do we all like the most?” and I said, I don’t know why, “Kissing.” Everyone laughed. It just slipped out, but there was one person there who I had dreamt about kissing, wanted to kiss, fantasized kissing but who I never thought I’d get to kiss...so I guess it didn’t just slip out... anyhow...someone suggested “Guess Who”...do you know that one..
CAMMIE
Yes, I used to play it when I was...young....like 14.
FATIMA
Yeah, well I was 17 and still a...hadn’t actually kissed anyone properly yet.
CAMMIE
What’s a proper kiss.
FATIMA
If you’ll let me finish.
CAMMIE
Sorry.
FATIMA
So, when it was my turn I put the blindfold on and they all took turns kissing me. Some on the cheek, a few on the lips and then one....who...not just on the lips, but with an open mouth and...before I knew there was a tongue inside my mouth and...well, our tongues did this kind of dance and I could feel myself...getting pretty excited...let’s put it that way. And then I took the blindfold off and looked at all the boys and girls and knew immediately who had kissed me that way. I walked up to her and kissed Abi lightly on the lips. She smiled, a little shyly. And everyone was silent because they sensed that something... special...had happened just then...and they were right...it had...not only did I realize that I preferred kissing Abi to all the boys I had kissed but...I was a Muslim and Abi was a Jew and while we all knew that this was OK, we also knew that Abi’s dad was an orthodox Zionist Rabbi...
CAMMIE
Faaaaark!
FATIMA
Later, when we were alone, Abi and me, the first thing we did...we didn’t even say ‘hi’ or anything...was kiss each other. The same as before, with our tongues and I could feel myself...fuck, I can’t believe I’m telling you this...
CAMMIE
Don’t stop now.
Fatima stares at Cammie for a long moment, pondering whether to finish her story or not.
16 INT. LIVING ROOM. GABRIEL’S RAMSHACKLE COTTAGE. NIGHT
Gabriel, sitting at his synth, improvises a gentle melody as he watches a montage of beautiful images on his computer monitor:
Coastal sunrises, sunsets, flowers, birds, lizards…Mother Nature in all Her glory.
17 INT. ROOM IN AGED CARE FACILITY. SUNRISE
Gabriel’s music continues over:
Nai Nai turning pages of an old weather-beaten photo album resting on her lap, savouring the memories the photos evoke. Minnie is curled up asleep on her bed. It has not been slept in.
Close on Cultural Revolution photos, press clippings, faded coloured leaflets of communist propaganda, as the pages turn.
Nai Nai looks at page after page of photos of the times, mixed with family photos; stops on one of:
A young woman, in Chairman Mao uniform, sitting alongside a young man, in an identical uniform, on the day of their marriage; both smiling happily.
Nai Nai kisses her fingers; places them on the lips of the young man in the photo.
Nai Nai turns the page:
Photos of her, a happy young mother with her baby daughter.
Nai Nai’s eyes fill with happy tears of remembrance. She looks out the window to see:
The sun, just risen, filtered through the leaves of a flowering Frangipani tree.
Gabriel’s music continues over an extreme close up of Nai Nai’s lined old face, the first rays of morning sun falling on it; tears streaming down her cheeks.
End of Episode Two
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