BLACK SUPERIMPOSE: "Saturday, June 1st, 1996. 20:39:01." The position representing the seconds ticks along live. INT. KITCHEN - NIGHT DAVIS BALLARD, mid-20's, is very nervous. He doesn't know it, but he's cute enough to work the shy fumble. His sleeves are rolled and his shirt is soaked through. He's doing dishes. DAVIS (whispered affirmations) Everybody chokes - now and then. Fish bones are - chokey. Very - choke-prone. It's human. Human is endearing. People love humans. RAEANNE JERET, mid-20's, is short, with pronounced curves and subtle glasses. In her tight white shirt and tight tweed skirt she looks like a naughty school-marm. She enters and passes two dirty dinner plates to Davis. RAEANNE Here you go, sweetie. DAVIS Was the food – okay – for you? He scrapes the plates into the garbage, but one of the fish bones slides onto the floor, which is littered with coffee grounds, twist-ties, and onionskins. RAEANNE It was good. I loved it. I love fish. And you caught it yourself, where was it? Oops, you dropped – Raeanne and Davis kneel at once to retrieve the fish-bone. They grab opposite ends of it, and there, their eyes meet. They share a sexy, sexy pause. DAVIS I ... the Tarrabocci River. Fish. RAEANNE (purring) Tarrabocci. What a name... Davis nods enthusiastically and drops the fish-bone into the garbage. When he turns back, Raeanne plunges in for a kiss. DAVIS Aah - ah! Caught by surprise, Davis jerks his head back and SLAMS his skull on the sink behind him. BONK! RAEANNE Baby! DAVIS I, uh - fish bone! - I mean, Tarrabocci - oh god – I mean... With her help, Davis stands, rubbing his head. She strokes his hair. RAEANNE Here honey. My fault. My fault. DAVIS Am I bleeding? RAEANNE (sweetly mocking) Internally, honey. You're internally hemorrhaging. DAVIS (between weeping and joking) Call an ambulance... They begin leaning close, lips parting, eyes closing – but from the other room, there is a loud DING-DONG. Raeanne and Davis look up, surprised. DING-DONG! DING-DONG! DING-DONG! RAEANNE Is that your door? POUND! POUND-POUND-POUND! DING-DONG! POUND-POUND-POUND! DAVIS I think that's my door... (looking to her) ...Isn't that weird? INT. ENTRANCE - MOMENTS LATER Davis approaches the door, which POUND-POUNDS just once more. He leans to the peephole, but the hall outside is empty. Davis straightens. Crushes his brows together. Squints. Then, in a snap decision: he swings the door open with a swift SWISH that makes his bangs go WHOOSH. Which reveals - in plain view - BOBBIE. She is his age, slender, and plain. She wears one drab color – a uniform like a deliveryman's – complete with cap. She wriggles her feet and clenches her fists, like a kid trying to hold her bladder or turn invisible. Davis stares at her, awe-struck. Then, she strikes. She flings her hat aside and dives full body forward, grabbing his face in her hands. Her lips lock on his. Her hands grope through his hair, claw down his back. She presses into him, pulls him against her, one leg wrapping around, trying to hook his pelvis. He SLAMS into the door, and she MOANS, sliding down his chest, peeling free of him. Then... She is gone. Davis reels. He coughs a few times, finding air, finding balance. Blinks. Davis peers out into the hallway. He looks this way. He looks that. And then he whines like a lost puppy. There is no one. Spooked and pale, he backs into his home, carefully sealing the door behind him. Three locks turn - CLACK-CLACK-CLACK. INT. KITCHEN - DAY Davis, dressed just the same, but with sleeves down and shirt dry, stands at the oven, frying fish. It SIZZLES and POPS. He hums to himself an awful sort of improv jazz. INT. LIVINGROOM In the next room, within earshot of the HUMMING, SIZZLING, AND POPPING, Bobbie sits calmly on the couch, in uniform. She has a portable phone to her ear. The other end RINGS. SUPERIMPOSE: "Saturday, June 1st, 1996. 14:57:04." The seconds tick. INT. LIVINGROOM - MAY 28TH The same room, the same phone sits on the couch, RINGING. Davis plods in from the hall, wearing his coat and carrying his keys. SUPERIMPOSE: "Tuesday, May 28th, 1996. 14:57:12." The seconds tick live – in sync with the previous clock. Davis answers the phone. INTERCUT BETWEEN LOCATIONS. DAVIS Hello? BOBBIE Whoops. Wrong number. Sorry! INT. LIVINGROOM Bobbie hangs up quick. She ducks her head and sucks in through her teeth, embarrassed. Then she checks her watch. Taps the face to see if it's stopped. INT. LIVINGROOM - MAY 28TH Davis shakes his head. He tosses the phone back onto the couch, then heads out the door. It locks behind him, CLACK, CLACK, CLACK. At that, the phone begins RINGING again. From nowhere, EDDY, a stocky, sweaty, balding man, wearing an identical uniform to Bobbie's, answers the phone. He takes a seat on the couch exactly where she sits. INTERCUT BETWEEN LOCATIONS. EDDY Okay Bobbie, you're calling - okay here it is - you're calling, to tell me, that this, this is the night, the magic night, when we're finally gonna deliver this moment, am I right? Cause that's the only reason you could possibly be calling me. BOBBIE I have a requisition for you. EDDY Aw, come on! Give me a break here! BOBBIE This is a delicate moment we're working on, Eddy. It's delicate. EDDY No, no. It's perfect. It's been perfect. I do good work. I got it all set up. It's gravy. BOBBIE We've got a whole new plan. EDDY I don't want to hear a new plan! BOBBIE We need you to poison a fish. EDDY Poison a fish!? BOBBIE Me and Abby - you know Abby, from tomorrow? - we got this whole big hospital romance worked out. It's beautiful. Best ever. EDDY I thought you and Abby didn't talk no more. BOBBIE We're professionals... You should give it a try. EDDY Ho ho ho. Eddy pulls a pad of carbon receipts from his inside pocket and a pencil from his ear. He begins scribbling. EDDY (CONT'D) Poison – which fish now? BOBBIE The second one. And make it like some rare, like, deadly bacteria. He signs the pad and tears off the receipt. EDDY Yeah, yeah, yeah. He folds it in half and stuffs it behind a cushion. EDDY (CONT'D) I put your receipt behind the cushion. Did it get there? Bobbie reaches behind her and takes out the same receipt. BOBBIE Got it. EDDY Now, he's already gone fishing this run, so I'll tackle this first thing in the morning. (pause, then sharply) But that don't mean slack off! You go give it another shot with the plan we got. Maybe we get lucky. BOBBIE I will. I will. It just. I dunno. Something always ruins the mood. EDDY Must be nice bein' human. Only havin'-a worry about getting your own life straight. BOBBIE Tell me about it. INT. KITCHEN - NIGHT Subtly different in barely perceivable ways - Davis stands, having bonked his head, rubbing his skull, while Raeanne strokes his hair. RAEANNE Here honey. My fault. My fault. DAVIS Am I bleeding? RAEANNE Internally, honey. You're internally hemorrhaging. DAVIS Call an ambulance... They lean in for a kiss, when - DING-DONG! DING-DONG! RAEANNE Is that your door? POUND! POUND-POUND-POUND! DAVIS I think that's my door... (looking to her) ...Isn't that weird? INT. ENTRANCE - MOMENTS LATER Davis swings the door wide open with a swift SWOOSH that makes his bangs go WHOOSH. Which reveals – BOBBIE - who unzips the front of her uniform, and jumps him. He screams, but he's muzzled by the kiss. On his impact with the door - CUT TO BLACK. SUPERIMPOSE: "Tuesday, May 28th, 1996. 6:18:21." The seconds tick. EXT. TARRABOCCI RIVER BANK – EARLY MORNING Birds yawn MORNING TWEETS over the SOFT LAPPING of the river. Davis is visible at a short distance, out in the middle of the brown water, seated in his little boat, wearing a fishing cap and sunglasses. He casts his line. Whistling, Eddy plods up to the muddy bank. Over his uniform he wears a snorkel, goggles, and swim-fins. He carries a clear plastic bag, full of water and a fish. He inhales deeply, and then merrily waddles into the water, steadily moving down, as though his feet were concrete. I/E. DAVIS'S BOAT – MOMENTS LATER Something tugs his line. Davis jumps up. He adjusts himself, angles the rod, sets the hook. EXT. BENEATH THE TARRABOCCI RIVER With a beatific grin, Eddy opens his hands wide, as though releasing a baby bird to fly. Caught on the line, the little fish zips out of sight toward the surface. I/E. DAVIS'S BOAT Davis reels in the same fish. It jumps and squirms on the line. He grabs his net and scoops it with finesse. DAVIS Hot dog! INT. KITCHEN - NIGHT Davis has his sleeves rolled and his shirt soaked through. He's doing dishes. DAVIS Fish bones are - chokey. Very - choke-prone. It's human. Human is endearing. People love humans. Raeanne enters carrying two dinner plates, looking a little pale, and quite unhappy. She passes them to Davis. RAEANNE Here you go... DAVIS Was the food – okay – for you? He scrapes the plates into the garbage, but one of the fish bones slides onto the floor. RAEANNE (a little worried) Where – did you say – you caught that fish? Davis kneels down to retrieve the fish-bone. Raeanne holds her stomach and shuffles to the sink. DAVIS I ... the Tarrabocci River... Fish... Standing, David turns to her. She stares into the sink. RAEANNE (disgusted) Tarrabocci. What a name... With that, she grips the edge of the sink, and begins vomiting into the dish water. DAVIS Aah - ah! EXT. HOSPITAL – NIGHT An ambulance pulls into the ER drive of a hospital. INT. HOSPITAL WAITING ROOM – LATER Davis sits alone, his head in his hands. Bobbie, in uniform, saunters up and plops down beside him. He glances up at her. She smiles at him. BOBBIE You look like you're waiting for someone. Davis nods shyly. BOBBIE (CONT'D) I'm on my way out, myself... Thought I had a tumor. Davis glances at her, feigning concern, but unable to hide his discomfort at being spoken to by a stranger. BOBBIE (CONT'D) Turned out it was just my breast. Davis sniffs a tiny laugh. BOBBIE (CONT'D) It's not much of a breast, but one hell of a tumor... He nods, blushing. BOBBIE (CONT'D) You? DAVIS Me? BOBBIE Waiting for someone? He sighs with self-pity, and looks off, scowling. DAVIS (CONT'D) You know, I just met this girl, and, she, she sorta, invited herself over for dinner... (he smirks, embarrassed) And I think, maybe I, maybe I poisoned her a little. BOBBIE I hate first dates. DAVIS I hope she's okay... (back to Bobbie) I don't even know her last name. He peers off at the Emergency Room doors. Bobbie's smile fades. She squares her jaw and straightens her posture. BOBBIE The girl you came in with. (flatly) She's dead. Davis snaps back to face her, his eyes wide with shock. His mouth slides limply open. BOBBIE (CONT'D) It's for the best, though. You hardly knew her. You'll be okay. (leaning toward him) I mean, imagine if things had worked, and you had this moment, and nine months from now, you had this baby boy, so you named him Marvin, and you're married, and you're happy - but there's this car crash, so your wife and your son are crushed and dead, so you're crushed and alone, so you go and you put your head in the oven and you end it all. (pause, sweetly) Isn't – isn't better to just – end it all, right here? Davis is utterly horrified. DAVIS (disgusted) Who – who are you? What kind of a person would...? BOBBIE I'm gonna get in trouble for this, but you seem like a great guy, and I wanted you to know. It's not your fault, and it's for the best. DAVIS Are you some kind of – sick – twisted - mentally deranged janitor? Or what! You see someone – die - and you go and – God!? Bobbie blinks at him for a moment, a bit wounded. But she soon bucks up. BOBBIE In a hospital setting – we're called Housekeeping. Bobbie stands, then pauses. She looks down on Davis. In a very threatening manner, she grabs his shirt, leans over him, and kisses him sweetly. CUT TO BLACK. SUPERIMPOSE: "November 12th, 7403. 9:33:46." Tick. Tick. INT. JARVIS'S OFFICE – DAY A white office with glass furniture – two chairs and a desk. There are no papers; only small, matching electronic items. On the desk is a glass bowl full of colorful candies. Bobbie sits across the desk and candy-bowl from JARVIS, a thin, dull-eyed, silly-looking man in a white suit. He leans toward her. JARVIS Bobbie. Do you like your job? She stammers, totally thrown. BOBBIE I, um, I can't imagine doing anything else. I can't imagine anyone... doing anything else. JARVIS Maybe you'd like a reassignment? Maybe you'd be happier in a time period prior to plumbing? BOBBIE No, I like toilets. I like using them. When I need to. Jarvis sits back, examining her vacuously. JARVIS Bobbie. You're presently one hundred and seventy-three work-days in arrears on delivery of a single requisition. And now I hear you vastly changed momentary structure without authorization. What's going on there? BOBBIE I was - trying to be - creative? JARVIS Creative is great. We encourage creative. You know, I think creative is like ... Innovation. And we strongly encourage Innovation. But you know what I always say? Innovation? Innovation is 90% doing what you're told, and 10% doing it well. BOBBIE I just thought – JARVIS Look at this mess from my point of view, Bobbie. I'm swamped! I'm flooded! I'm floored. I've got like, five messages. The girl working day-forward of you – what's her name? BOBBIE Abby? JARVIS ABBY IS FURIOUS. Two messages. You won't even speak to your day forward. That's not teamwork. BOBBIE I talk to her. When I have to. With post-it notes. Jarvis takes a piece of candy and thoughtfully places it on his tongue. He sits there with it displayed for a second, before rolling it up and sucking on it loudly. JARVIS Here's what I think Bobbie - I think we have no choice ... but to mediate. BOBBIE Ow. No. Not mediate. JARVIS Here's the thing, Bobbie. Here's what I'm doing. I'm scheduling a mediation for you and for Abby. BOBBIE Please. No. JARVIS Bobbie. I'm a manager. That explains the nice office and the ten weeks vacation. I manage a team. So, I'm gonna manage this team. I'm gonna get you two ... to work this out for yourselves. INT. MEDIATION ROOM – LATER There is a couch and a recliner, both rather like leather marshmallows. The lighting is pleasant. The walls are neutral. A fish-tank bubbles, free of any fish. ABBY, a crazed little woman with frazzled, thinning hair and thick, crooked glasses sits on the couch beside Bobbie. She wears the same uniform, only two sizes too large. ABBY I don't have any proof yet, but I could swear, oh, I could swear – she's been showing herself. The MEDIATOR, a pleasant-mannered, soft-spoken woman in a white kimono, sits on the recliner with perfect posture. MEDIATOR That's a very serious accusation. BOBBIE I didn't reveal myself... The mediator gently extends her hand to Bobbie, indicating silence is required. MEDIATOR Abby, because you do not know that Bobbie has made herself visible to her subjects, let us instead assume that she has not. (glowing smile) Let us be true to those things we know, not to those things we feel. Abby adjusts herself, leaning forward. ABBY I'll tell you what I know! Okay? Here. I'll tell ya. INT. BEDROOM – MORNING Davis and Raeanne lay beneath the sheets, both naked, intertwined as though inseparable. A slant of sunlight illuminates Davis and his angelic grin. ABBY (V.O.) Instead of waking up on my morning, all aglow with afterglow... EXT. TARRABOCCI RIVER – MORNING Out on his boat, Davis stands beside Raeanne. At once, they both cast expertly into the brown waters. ABBY (V.O.) Instead of taking one knocked up female fishing on the Tarrabocci river, the first female, I might add, the subject ever takes... EXT. CITY PARK – EVENING Davis and Raeanne walk hand-in-hand toward the sunset. ABBY (V.O.) Instead guaranteeing their marriage and ensuring the child is carried to term... INT. MEDIATION ROOM – RESUMING Abby is red-in-the-face. Bobbie just covers her eyes. ABBY (V.O.) Instead of anything in the plan, all day long he sits in the park, on a bench, feeding the pigeons, like an oooold maaaan! (furious) And I get to watch him do it! Two hundred times! The mediator looks to Bobbie. MEDIATOR Bobbie. Do you have anything to add to Abby's knowledge, without taking away or contradicting? BOBBIE I'm ... not a fan of mediation? The mediator nods softly, as though she's heard a great truth, whispered on the wind. MEDIATOR What we do now, to bring you both together again, is trace backward to your shared dreams. Upon them, we will rebuild your alliance. (dramatically) But upon what can we all agree? We can all agree that we want the same thing: a perfect, lovely future. INSERT. MONTAGE. BLACK AND WHITE. Desaturated, sweeping shots of nature at its grandest. Beams of sunlight twinkle through branches with new buds. Waves break on empty, endless beaches. Waterfalls. Sunsets. Forest paths. Rocky mountains. Snowy wonderlands. MEDIATOR (V.O.) Every single one of us wants a perfect future. We all do, because we all vacation there. I will spend two weeks in the future with my husband, at the beginning of May. So, let us go back to that, and let us build a ladder of teamwork. Let us do all we can, so that the future shall be as we love it... ENTIRELY UNPOPULATED BY HUMANS. RESUMING SCENE. The mediator has a serene, motherly expression of pure bliss and inner peace. MEDIATOR (CONT'D) That is the only way to guarantee our vacation paradise. Death ... to all humans. INT. JARVIS'S OFFICE – LATER Bobbie stands at the desk, her face all frown, her fingers waiting on the corner of the only form on Jarvis's desk. Chewing loudly on hard-candy, Jarvis signs it. Bobbie takes it, glances at it, and heads to the door. JARVIS Oh, and, Bobbie? She stops. She knows not to look back. She knows the icing on the crap cake is coming - right now. JARVIS (CONT'D) This is your third formal warning, so I'm afraid, if you don't – (gestures taking a swing with a tiny bat) Hit it outta the park on this one, we'll be looking into a transfer. Maybe the Plaque. The Dark Ages. The Civil War. Or maybe, you know, something less pleasant. Bobbie nods, and leaves. INT. LIVINGROOM – DAY Bobbie and Eddy again sit on the same couch, in the same spot, connected by the same phone, in two different days. But now, they are both subdued. Eddy tries to be delicate. EDDY I'm not allowed to take req's from you, without prior authorization, until, you know, further notice. BOBBIE I know, Eddy – but – the fish. Where are my fish? EDDY They, well, they had me discontinue the fish-catching moment completely. BOBBIE Aw. That's overkill, Eddy. EDDY I know. Think you can handle it without? BOBBIE Guess I don't have much choice. Bobbie sighs mightily. She really sounds anguished. EDDY We all have our bad days. BOBBIE Over and over again. FADE TO BLACK. SUPERIMPOSE: "Saturday, June 1st, 1996. 20:39:01." INT. BATHROOM - EVENING Davis stands at the bathroom mirror, his face covered in blue shave-gel. Bobbie steps up just behind him, in uniform, expression blank. Davis brings the disposable razor to his cheek, his hand guided by Bobbie's. He touches the blade to his face; his and Bobbie's fingers hold his skin flat before it. INT. BEDROOM – MOMENTS LATER Perfectly clean-shaven, Davis stands in his boxer shorts, peering into his open closet. Bobbie stands just behind him. He extends his hand. Bobbie lays her own on top of it. Together, they slide across the hangers, lightly touching every shirt. Bobbie stops his hand on a stylish, colorful shirt, unlike anything he's worn thus far. INT. BATHROOM – MOMENTS LATER Dressed now in his stylish duds, Davis hunches some distance from the bathroom mirror, running his fingers fiendishly through his hair, trying to get it right. Bobbie, standing between him and the mirror, as though he were looking into her eyes for a reflection, reaches out, and in perfect sync with his spastic movements, calmly fixes his hair. INT. BEDROOM – MOMENTS LATER Sitting on his bed, Davis removes items from a small, plastic pharmacy bag. He takes out aftershave; splashes himself with it. He takes out nail-clippers; trims his nails. He takes out cottons swabs; cleans his ears. Lastly, he takes out a box of condoms. Examines them. And then, sets them on the back edge of the dresser. INT. LIVINGROOM – MOMENTS LATER Davis struts out into the living-room, and Bobbie nudges the broom, which leans against the wall, so that it CRACKS to the floor. He pauses. He sets it right. And then he hesitates. INT. KITCHEN – MOMENTS LATER Davis sweeps the coffee grounds, the onionskins, and the twist-ties, all into a dust pan. A moment later, he slathers a rope-mop across the linoleum, leaving a remarkably brightened path behind. INT. BEDROOM – MOMENTS LATER Bobbie is alone, sitting on the bed as Davis sat. She is staring with reprehension, almost fear, at the condoms, there on his dresser. She stands. She picks up the slim box. And she drops them, quite carefully, quite intentionally, behind the dresser. INT. KITCHEN – MOMENTS LATER Bobbie stands with the same dreadful expression, as though someone had danced on her grave. In front of her, Davis is down on all fours - with his head inside the oven. After a moment there, he sits back and emerges holding a potato. He dusts it off, sets it back onto the pan, beside several others, and closes the oven door. SLAM. Bobbie jumps a little. INT. DINNING ROOM – NIGHT Across a small table, Davis and Raeanne speak with animated, flirtatious gestures, MOS. Bobbie watches from the corner, her expression set, and sour, and shadowed. Abruptly, Davis begins choking on a chicken bone. He coughs, grabs his throat, and then suddenly stops coughing. He sticks his tongue out and gesticulates wildly. Raeanne rushes over and hauls him from his seat. The little woman begins expertly, powerfully, and fearlessly performing the Heimlich Maneuver. Davis flails like a rag-doll in a dog's mouth. Bobbie closes her eyes and hangs her head to the floor. INT. KITCHEN - NIGHT Davis has his stylish sleeves rolled. He's doing dishes. DAVIS Everybody chokes - now and then. Chicken bones are - chokey. Very - choke-prone. It's human. Human is endearing. People love humans. Raeanne enters and passes two dirty dinner plates to Davis. RAEANNE Here you go, sweetie. DAVIS Was the food – okay – for you? He scrapes the plates into the garbage, but one of the chicken bones slides onto the floor. RAEANNE It was good. Oops, you dropped – Raeanne and Davis kneel at once to retrieve the bone. They grab opposite ends of it, and there, their eyes meet. They share a sexy, sexy pause. DAVIS I just, uh, mopped this... Davis drops the fish-bone into the garbage. When he turns back, Raeanne plunges in for a kiss. DAVIS Aah - ah! Caught by surprise, Davis jerks his head back and – his skull is caught softly in Bobbie's opened hands, the impact nestled into her lap. She eases him toward Raeanne. The two kiss, mouths open. Raeanne straddles him and Bobbie side-steps, allowing Davis to ease back against the counter. Raeanne runs her hands up under his shirt. Bobbie grabs Davis's hands and leads them to Raeanne's sides. He caresses her waist, slides upward across her chest, never pausing, straight to her top shirt-buttons. Led by Bobbie, he takes either side of the shirt in either hand and - RIP! – together they tear it open, buttons flying. Raeanne gasps – thrilled. She loves it. She grips his stylish shirt and tugs it over his head; it gets caught, but Bobbie guides it off. Their lips reconnect. Davis reaches around for her bra, fumbles, and Bobbie unsnaps it. They go down to the floor at Bobbie's feet, kissing and groping. Bobbie reaches down, and comes up with a belt. The counter begins to bounce in a passionately rhythmic fashion. The dish-rack, full of damp plates, pots, and flatware, goes CLATTER-CLACK, CLATTER-CLACK as it jumps on the counter top. Swallowing hard, eyes full of pain, Bobbie bends down again and collects a pair of panties, a pair of boxer shorts, like a mother cleaning a bedroom. The counter goes BUMP-DA-BUMP and the dish-rack responds CLATTER-CLACK, CLATTER-CLACK. Bobbie leans back against a wall. She glares down at the couple as Raeanne releases a low, long, pleased MOAN. The counter goes BUMP. The dish-rack responds CLATTER-CLACK. Bobbie forces her eyes away. They are red and glistening. Her jaw muscles flex. Her frown twitches between self-pity, and rage, and sorrow. BUMP says the counter. CLATTER-CLACK replies the dish-rack. Bobbies eyes wonder over to the oven. It shimmies. BUMP goes the counter. CLATTER-CLACK goes the rack. Raeanne begins MOANING a melody of pumping carnal pleasure, interweaving it with the beat of the counter and the rack. Her voice raises in mounting excitement. BUMP goes the counter. CLATTER-CLACK goes the rack. Bobbie peers down at the couple. BUMP-CLATTER-CLACK. Then up at the oven. BUMP-CLATTER-CLACK. Then down at the couple. BUMP-CLATTER-CLACK. Then up at the oven, the oven, standing like the Grim Reaper over the whole affair. Bobbie bores holes in the oven with the fire of her stare as Raeanne starts a crescendo, a mantra. RAEANNE Yes, oh yes-yes! Simply, Bobbie shakes her head, "No." RAEANNE (CONT'D) Yes, oh yes-yes! BUMP-CLATTER-CLACK. BUMP-CLATTER-CLACK. RAEANNE (CONT'D) Yes, oh yes-yes! Bobbie reaches out. She takes the dish-rack in her fist. RAEANNE (CONT'D) Yes, oh yes-yes! And Bobbie tips the rack, tips it off the edge of the counter, dumping and dropping it, down on to the couple's bobbing heads. CLATTER CRASH!! RAEANNE OUCH! INT. JARVIS'S OFFICE - NIGHT The desk, chairs, and candy have been cleared away. MILITARY DRUMS tap a steady roll. Bobbie stands with hands clasped behind her. She stares off, her strength barely containing her fear and humiliation. She is surrounded by her peers. Many unknown. But nearest are Eddy. Abby. The Mediator. Jarvis oversees all, reading from cards with a booming voice. JARVIS For criminal negligence in your sworn duties to those moments occurring on June 1st, 1996... Abby violently removes Bobbie's cap. JARVIS (CONT'D) For treasonous and intentional sabotage to those momentary structures under your charge... Abby takes the shoulders of Bobbie's coat, and strips it down her back, leaving her only a white tank-top. JARVIS (CONT'D) For wrongfully revealing your presence, influence, and classified future-knowledge to those human subjects in your charge... Abby yanks Bobbie's pants down around her ankles, leaving her in a polka-dot pair of boxer-shorts and two tall white socks. JARVIS (CONT'D) For gross misconduct unbecoming of a team player, we do hereby strip you of your rank, insignia, and uniform, reneging all privileges formerly afforded to you as a Momentary Engineer. Never moving her eyes, but chin trembling slightly, Bobbie steps out of her pants. JARVIS (CONT'D) You are henceforth banned from the glory that is the Future, arguably the greatest vacation spot ever. Abby collects the pants. JARVIS (CONT'D) You are exiled from the familiar halls of the Present, never again to see those you've known in life. Eddy steps up to Bobby with a pile of folded clothes. JARVIS (CONT'D) You are shunned from the Whole Metacontinuity of Time, doomed to live out your life, without memory, without knowledge, amongst the unwitting, amongst those pawns to the forces you once mastered. At these words, Bobbie takes pause, cocking her head. She glances at Jarvis for clarification, but his eyes are hard, disapproving. She glances at Abby, but the little gremlin scowls with cruel satisfaction. She glances at the Mediator, but finds her face full with all the shame of having lost an Engineer to wickedness. But finally, her eyes find Eddy. And he is warmly smiling. It is a proud, tearful smile. JARVIS (CONT'D) You are hereby banished to live amongst vile humanity, as a human, beginning on the day after that which you so grievously have failed. Eddy extends the pile of clothes to her. JARVIS (CONT'D) Take this, your civilian attire, and be gone. One and all, say your good-byes to her now, say them forever - for once banished, she will not remember you at all, and never again will you meet. Bobbie willingly accepts the pile from Eddy. And they share a sad, knowing moment. GUN SHOTS RING OUT, calling the drum beat to ABRUPT SILENCE. Bobbie starts dressing. INT. BEDROOM – MORNING An intense angle of sunlight falls across Davis where he sleeps. His eyes open and he grimaces against the light. He pulls the sheet over his head and turns away. SUPERIMPOSE: "Sunday, June 2nd, 1996. 09:14:52." INT. KITCHEN – MOMENTS LATER Davis places the jug of orange juice back in the refrigerator and closes the door. He leans back against the wall, right where Bobbie leaned, and languidly sips his breakfast. His eyes hang on the floor before him. On it are broken plates, scattered flatware, and dented pots. There is also a pair of panties. He is utterly defeated, and sighs to show it. INT. CITY PARK – EARLY AFTERNOON Unshaven, clothes wrinkled, Davis plods along a path, dangling an almost-empty bag of bread. In the bottom of it are two stale heels. He comes to a line of benches that are entirely besieged by pigeons. He plops down at the end of the last and reaches into his bag. He breaks off a bit. At the far end of the next bench over, Bobbie sits alone. Wearing her civilian clothes, her expression lost, she watches the birds, tossing them bits of potato-chips from a single-serving bag. Davis stares at her, but she pays him no mind. At length, he stands. He shuffles through the pigeons. And he takes a seat at the far side of her bench. He feeds the same birds. BOBBIE Hi. DAVIS Hi. BOBBIE How's it going? DAVIS Bother you if I told the truth? BOBBIE Probably not. DAVIS Last night was possibly the worst night of my life. BOBBIE Wow. How's it going now? DAVIS Just glad it's over with. BOBBIE I don't ... Remember much about yesterday. DAVIS How about today? BOBBIE I'm doing better. Thought I had a tumor a minute ago. DAVIS (playing along) Oh really? BOBBIE Turns out it was just my breast. Davis laughs. Bobbie smiles at last. BOBBIE (CONT'D) Not much of a breast, but one hell of a tumor. DAVIS I think it's pretty good for both. BOBBIE (sweetly faking bashfulness) Well thanks for saying. Silence. They watch the birds. DAVIS Do you – you don't like fishing by any chance – do you? Bobbie turns to face him, searching. BOBBIE I really don't know. EXT. TARRABOCCI RIVER – AFTERNOON Davis's little boat sits like a pearl at the center of the calm brown Tarrabocci River. On its deck stand two figures. Bobbie holds the fishing rod. Davis stands behind her, arms around her. His hands hold hers. Together, Davis guiding the motion, they cast the line. It BUZZES an arc and drops pleasantly into the water – PID DUNK. Davis helps Bobbie reel it back a bit. BOBBIE (quietly) Hot dog... They remain together as the boat bobs gradually along with the current. They drift around a bend, back behind an outcropping of reaching trees, and all DE-SATURATES SLOWLY to BLACK AND WHITE. FADE TO BLACK.