From: pyeager@kuht.uh.edu (Paul Yeager)
Subject: VIRTUAL LOVE 2
Date: Mon, 1 Nov 1993 15:34:36 GMT

A first draft of a story written for the screen, put out for review,
suggestions, critique, flames, whatever.  Rather than post a reply, you can
e-mail your response to

pyeager@kuht.uh.edu

Thanks.





VIRTUAL LOVE II

11/1/93


MUSIC - rhythmic, comtemplative but not ethereal, earthy
	    (source music, coming from a CD player)

FADE IN

INT. AN APARTMENT - DAY

A light pen moves across a clear plexiglass tablet, creating an invisible drawing.
On a nearby computer screen an image is beginning to form.

A young woman with short-cropped hair, BUD, wearing reflective Virtual
Reality glasses, expertly maneuvers the light pen over the plexiglass.  Her
expression, somewhat hidden by the glasses, is neutral.

On the computer screen an image of an ice cube rapidly takes shape.

Bud smiles slightly, pleased at the beginning.  She continues, rapidly moving the
lightpen across the clear tablet.

	[The room she sits in has brick walls and a wood floor.  There is one window,
through which a blinking red light falls across the table that holds the computer array
and the monitors.
	Scattered about are neon sculptures, softly coloring the shadows between them.
On almost every surface lies computer paraphernalia, except in one corner which seems to
be devoted exclusively to painting.  Brushes, pallets, tubes of paint, etc. are organized on
shelves against the wall (or walls - perhaps this is in a corner), and a large empty canvas
leans against the legs of an easel.  Perhaps it is an efficiency apartment room... if not a
bed, there is at least a kind of "crash pad" mattress or sofa in the room.
	It should be understood that the same information displayed on the monitor is
also displayed inside the VR glasses.  Therefore it is not necessary that the operator look
at the monitor - indeed she/he shouldn't look at the monitor.  As for the glasses
themselves, they are not unlike rainbow-mirrored sunglasses, with little earphones
attached to the temple-pieces, and a thin gray-shielded wire running from one earphone
to the computer.
	The clear plexiglass drawing tablet stands on a clear plastic pedastle away from
the table, and Bud sits perpendicular to the axis of the monitor and manipulates the
lightpen across the tablet.]

Broad strokes of fiery colors are sketched in and can be seen on the monitor
rising up off the upper surfaces of the icecube.  A new element slowly begins to
fade in -- where a moment ago the ice cube burned in the empty white space of
the electronic canvas, now a floor is faintly discernible, a black and white
checkerboard of thickly-veined marble.

Bud is completely engrossed in shaping her tongues of flame, curling and
shading them as they rise.

Walls begin to appear in the image, brick walls mirroring the walls in the room
where Bud sits.  The now fully-realized checkerboard floor stretches away to the
walls, and as they become more resolved in the image, the checkerboard floor
begins to change.

Bud's lightpen whizzes across the plexiglass.

The flames look so real now, the ice has begun to melt.  Puddles form around the
base of the cube, their highlights and shadows quickly sketched in.  Meanwhile,
the white squares in the floor are darkening, and in the black squares neon
colored grid lines appear.

The light pen flies.

The MUSIC takes on a new character, its rhythms becoming more hypnotic.

The white squares become black and the gridwork is complete.  Even the walls
have disappeared.  The burning icecube sits on the neon plane of a glowing data
grid.  High above the flames, another grid stretches away to the distance.  The
grids seem to shimmer with energy.

The eye moves past the icecube, out into the landscape.  Geometric shapes rise
vertically through the grids -- data constructs, distribution constructs, security
constructs.  Some are colored like smoke, some like ice, some like liquid fire.

The eye moves up, passing through the dataplanes like floors in a building.
Other constructs float through the frame, odd things like burning ice cubes and
longhorn skulls, soft taco-watches and black bowler hats with corks dangling
from the brim, metal armadillos with glowing eyes and jalapeno peppers shot
through with red lightening.

Still the eye moves up, up and up and out into the black depths of unoccupied
cyberspace, sprinkled with shimmering stardust.  The shimmering grows until it
virtually explodes in a golden shower.

The sparkles die away and a new landscape is revealed: one of  craggy
mountains and mesas, lit by a setting sun.  Again the MUSIC changes character,
becoming now more ethereal without losing its hypno-rhythmic qualities.

A building with glowing liquid walls sits atop a butte, and the eye moves
towards it and down, through the mirrored entryway, into a large room.  The
MUSIC IS EVERYWHERE now, seeming to ring out of the walls themselves.

A DAZZLING SPHERE OF LIGHT sweeps through our view, followed by a
SECOND SPHERE, moving in time to the music.  The Spheres change color as
they loop and swing around each other.  The eye follows them from room to
room as one advances and the other retreats, then wheels and turns and moves
back toward the first, which now shoots away.  They move toward a corner of a
large room, which opens out onto the vista of mesas and peaks, and a distant
sea.  Standing just outside this opening is a fountain of fire.

The Spheres circle around the flame, chasing each other, until finally they come
together and form a single sphere of white which grows and blurs out the entire
screen with white.

*********************************

The white fades away to reveal Bud, slumped in front of her computer, her face
neutral behind the VR glasses.  Her face is wet, her hair matted.  Her little black
t-shirt sticks to her body.   A young man, REG, with spiked hair and a black
muscle t-shirt, bends over Bud and removes the VR glasses.  Her eyes are closed.

REG
Bud?
(no response)
Yo...
(shakes her shoulder)
Hey, Bud.  You OK?

She begins to come around, then suddenly jumps, startled.

BUD
Reg!

REG
You were expecting Prince Charles?

Bud needs a minute to re-orient herself.  She wipes the sweat off her face with
the bottom of her t-shirt.

BUD
Wow... That was the weirdest thing...

REG
You OK?

BUD
Yeah, I guess.  There was this ball of
light... thing.  I...  It's kind of hard to
explain.

REG
Ball of light... thing.

BUD
Two balls.  Mine and... someone else.

REG
You had two balls and one of them was
someone else?

Bud looks at Reg closely, scrutinizing him.

BUD
Was that you in there?

REG
In where?  What are you talking about?

BUD
(nodding toward the computers)
In there...  Inside the Matrix.

REG
You've taken something, right?
Something new.

BUD
(her eyes narrowing at him again)
It wasn't you?

REG
No, it wasn't me.  What are you talking
about?

BUD
I got... inside.  Somehow.
REG
Inside the Matrix?

BUD
Yeah...

REG
(looking at the glasses in his hand)
They never worked like that for me.

BUD
I wonder what it would be like to get a
surgical jack.

REG
Just what you need, another hole in
your head.

BUD
(standing up)
I want to go out for a while.

REG
Great.  Let's go eat.

BUD
By myself.  I need to just spin a while.
Alone.

REG
Oh...  Right.  Alone.  That's why I get
into relationships... to be alone.

Bud looks back at the monitor and sits back down.  The image of her burning ice
cube remains on the monitor, floating again in empty white space.

BUD
I was painting that ice cube and... it's
like, you know how when you really get
into something, you're really going, and
it seems like your surroundings sort of
close in around you and then somehow
you're out into this like endless space
inside your head?
REG
Uh... sure...

BUD
Forget it.

REG
No, no, go on... an endless space inside
your head.

She wipes her face on the bottom of the t-shirt again, stands up and walks out.

Reg watches her go, then sits in the chair at the computers.  He puts on the
glasses, touches the plexiglass tablet a couple of places and brings up various
menus and dialogue boxes.  He returns to the image of the burning ice cube, and
removes the glasses.  He regards the monitor pensively.

REG
I bet you didn't even save.

He touches the plexiglass.

A "Save" indicator is displayed on the monitor screen.

FADE OUT

FADE IN

INT. ANOTHER ROOM - ANOTHER DAY
	An ancient, cadaverous man, GIL, sits at an array of five or more
computer monitors.  Wires seem to be going everywhere, including a ribbon
cable that snakes up to a plug in Gil's head.
	The monitors are laid out in a semi-circle, with Gil in the center.  They are
different makes, different sizes, of differing ages and quality.  On the left-most
monitor is a data display - numbers & words arranged in rows and columns; on
the next monitor is a colored grid-work overlaid with a map-like display; on the
first monitor on his right is a continually-scrolling display of file information; on
the right-most monitor is a moving 3D image of a landscape made of lines
dotted with walls and pyramids, and red and yellow objects that dart around
and shoot green projectiles at the viewer.
	(Although Gil has all these monitors around him, he does not look at any of them.
Rather, his eyes are glassy, as if entranced.)
	The central monitor, the one right in front of Gil, has an image of Bud,
sitting at her plexiglass tablet, wearing her VR glasses; and Reg, pacing around
beside her.  The Point-of-View is that from inside Bud's monitor, looking out at
her and Reg.  There is a bulgy, somewhat fish-eye quality about the image.
Little speakers sit on either side of the monitor, and through them can be heard
the sounds of their conversation.

REG
Come on, Bud, you gotta admit things
ain't the same anymore.

He looks at Bud and gets no response.

REG
I mean, for two weeks now you been
sitting there jacked into the computer
and...

Still no response.

REG
God knows what's going on in there.

He crosses to the plexiglass tablet and makes a move to touch it.  Bud quickly
grabs his hand and yanks it away from the tablet.

REG
So.  You are still here.

BUD
(taking off the glasses)
Look, Reg.  I don't want to be pushed
right now.

REG
Pushed...?

BUD
You're pushing me.

REG
I just want to know what's going on
with you.  I don't see how that's
pushing.

BUD
I don't know what's going on, OK?  I
just... need a little space.  To find out.


REG
Well, what's going on with us?  Am I
still here?  I mean...

BUD
(interrupting)
You wanna split, split.  You wanna stay,
stay.  How's that?

REG
You don't care, one way or the other?

BUD
Don't make me do this right now, Reg.
(they regard each other silently a moment)
Remember the part about wanting to
respect each other's freedom?

REG
I see...  Checkmate.   You win.  Screw
you... and your computer.  And your
ART!

Bud puts the glasses back on, her face stoney behind the reflective panels.  Reg
storms out the door, slamming it behind him.

The POV returns to that from inside the computer monitor looking out.  Bud
touches the plexiglass.  She picks up her light pen and begins to draw.

A longhorn steer skull begins to take shape as she sketches.  Once again a black
and white checkerboard floor begins to appear on the monitor, and brick walls
mirroring the room where Bud is sitting.  The neon gridwork of the Matrix
appears in the black squares, and then all at once, she's in and rising up through
the gridplanes, passing the geometric constructs, up and out to the scattered
stardust shimmering in the blackness, and through to the other side, to the
craggy mountains and mesas and the glowing building.

A DAZZLING SPHERE OF LIGHT shoots into the view, followed by a SECOND
SPHERE.  They circle high above the building.  A MAN'S VOICE IS HEARD.

VOICE
Hello.



BUD'S VOICE
(surprised)
You can talk.

MAN
Yes.

BUD
I didn't know you could talk.

MAN
It didn't seem necessary.

BUD
And now it is?

MAN
Talking is one of the things that keeps
us from being just like everyone else.
It's one of the ways we differentiate
ourselves from the masses.  And from
each other.

BUD
So who are you?

MAN
I'm Gil.  I'm a friend.

BUD
Bit more than that, I'd say, at this point.

GIL
Yes.  That's one of the reasons I felt I
needed to... actually talk with you.

BUD
That sounds ominous.

GIL
No, no...  I just wanted to get to know
you better, more personally.



BUD
That would be hard.  You've been
further inside of me than any... actual
person I've ever known.  Are you... an
actual person?  Or just some expression
of my deepest fantasies.

GIL
Yes, I'm an actual person.  Sitting in a
room not too unlike yours.

BUD
So how does this all work?  I mean, how
did I get in here?

GIL
When you paint, you go deeper and
deeper into your subconscious.  That's
where the link is.  I just opened the
door, and you walked in.

BUD
How do you get in?

GIL
I have a surgical jack.

BUD
I thought they were illegal.

GIL
They are.

BUD
Some people died or something.

GIL
With practice, I've learned some
measure of control.  Like the walls here.

The walls change from a plasma-like substance to something else.

BUD
So, who are you?  What do you do?


GIL
I do this all day.  Travel around in
cyberspace, looking for a place to stop.

BUD
A young hacker loose on the Internet,
eh?

GIL
Do I have to be young?

BUD
Oh.  No, I just thought...

GIL
That I was your age.

BUD
More or less.

GIL
What if I'm... older?  Or younger?

BUD
It hardly seems to matter.

GIL
But eventually it will matter.  Just as I
finally had to talk to you, to get to know
something about the real you, you're
going to have to know something about
the real me.  When it matters enough,
you'll figure out how.  It's best I show
you before it really matters.  I'm afraid
you're going to be disappointed.

BUD
Really I don't think it matters.

The mountainous landscape de-rezzes and the slightly fish-eye view from inside
Gil's monitor is seen.  Gil sits at the bank of monitors, unmoving and entranced.
The two Spheres bob slightly in the foreground.  After a moment, one Sphere
disappears, and Gil sits up more straightly, his eyes come into focus and he
waves at the monitor.  Then he sits back in his chair, his eyes glaze, and the
Sphere reappears.

BUD
That's you, huh?

GIL
Not very impressive, I'm afraid.

BUD
What's impressive is what's going on on
this side of the monitor.  Let's go back.

GIL
OK.

FADE OUT

FADE IN

INT. BUD'S APARTMENT - NEXT DAY

Reg comes out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist, and
begins rummaging through a pile of clothes, looking for a clean t-shirt.

REG
You know yesterday you said if I
wanted to split I should split, and if I
wanted to stay I should stay?

BUD
Yeah, I've reconsidered.

REG
(surprised)
Oh...
(relieved)
Great.  That's great.  That's been all I
could think about, and I...

BUD
(interrupting)
I think you should split.


REG
What...?

BUD
For your sake as much as anything.  I
guess you'd say I'm going through a
phase or something.  I don't know.
(turning to face him)
But I'm not going to be much good to
you for a while at least.

REG
You've found someone else?

BUD
In a manner of speaking.  To tell you the
truth, though, I don't know if it's really
someone else, or just what happening
inside my own head.  I mean what is
real?  Where does the inside stop and
the outside start?  You know what I
mean?

REG
More or less.  Like the two balls you
had, and one of them was someone
else's.

BUD
Right.  I mean, we talk to ourselves all
the time, right?  Was that really
someone else, or just another part of
me?

REG
You asking me?

BUD
No.  Just asking.  Anyway, that's the
story.  I still like you.  I'd still like for us
to be friends.  But right now, for a while
anyway, I need some time by myself.


REG
For a while...

BUD
For a while.

REG
Then what?

BUD
I don't know, Reg.  Then maybe
nothing, then maybe everything.  Then
maybe neither one of us will even be
around.

REG
You thinking of leaving the city?

BUD
No.  I'm gonna be right here.

Bud sits at the computer table.  She pulls back her hair, revealing a metal socket
just behind her ear.  She picks up a narrow multi-cable DIN plug and sticks it in
the socket behind her ear.  She turns to the computer and the monitor screen
begins to display different windows of menus and dialogue boxes as Bud runs
through mental commands.  In the background, Reg pulls on his pants and
begins to walk around the room collecting things.

FADE TO BLACK


Paul Yeager (pyeager@kuht.uh.edu)
KUHT - Houston Public Television