Setting: Sunset. Bank. Marble columns inside the bank have carvings that depict the different rings of Hell. The camera weaves between the columns; the hollow sound of screams can barely be heard over the sound of a janitor waxing the floor in the back. The black floor seems to consume all light so that every figure looks like its own shadow.
Scene 1
The androgynous I. walks through the bank, disregarding serpentine lines of people and rivers. Carrying a suitcase, I. is determined to finish this mission. Their back seems greatly curved underneath a dark blue suit. I. arrives at a large door, guarded on both sides by men in white policemen outfits.
POLICEMAN 1: I.D. please.
I.: Here. (Takes off suit jacket. Spreads wings.)
POLICEMAN 2: Shit. Right this way.
I. tucks their wings underneath the jacket once more and continues through the large door, now to be revealed as nothing more than a nightmare encased in cedar. The policemen aren’t angels.
Clicking sounds begin to come from the suitcase, muffled as if it were underwater.
I.: This is where I reveal that I am more than a thinly veiled version of Ikarus, a myth. I am fact, the calories on that Snickers bar in your hand.
AUDIENCE: But you are in a film, stuck to a story written by someone else.
I.: Yet we can speak. Feel my wings. This is no more a story than the time we walked on the beach trying to hold each others hand.
AUDIENCE: Then, where are you going? What is your mission?
I.: The suitcase holds my mother and I want her back. I’m looking for the only thing that can open it for me.
AUDIENCE: Thing?
The conversation has distracted the audience so much that they just now realize that I. is entering through a golden arch. This is where the bank ends. Money signs are engraved in stone underneath I.s feet. Light consumes the shadow.
Scene 2
High angle on Spaceman attempting to drink tea at a small café across the street from the bank. Tea spills on the Spaceman’s helmet, the suit now a light brown.
Scene 3
I. enters a chamber. The Moon sits on top of a pedestal, thinking. I. removes their suit jacket once and for all, wings pointing up. I. lays down the suitcase in front of the pedestal, hesitant.
MOON: We meet again, I.
I.: Let my mother go. The ticking is about to stop.
MOON: Silly, the ticking will never stop. It may get slower. It may get faster.
But it will never stop.
I.:What do I have to do so that I can be with her once again? You stole her.
MOON: Didn’t you ever stop to think that it was her who stole ME. Man has caressed my face, but woman has deconstructed my heart.
I.: They don’t care about this. Do you?
AUDIENCE: Not really.
The camera falls down, cracks. The film continues for another twenty minutes as the camera begins to look within, slowly reflecting the image of the audience. The ticking never stops.
