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Caption:
NOW IN NEWSPEAK
The
widescreen: the old Super Mario Bros. Cartoon where Mario pulls the
golden sucker out of the holy bathtub.
Fry,
wearing some futuristic version of dungarees, is standing around
happily in a sunny archæological excavation site. People are
seen digging in the background, and an experienced-looking
archæologist hands Fry what, to all the world, looks like a
stick. Fry takes it, putting away a glossy magazine that appears to
have a picture of a city on the cover.
ARCHÆOLOGIST:
Have you got any previous experiences of excavation?
FRY
(suavely): Well, my friends would tell me that this is a 20th
century site, and I was cryogenically frozen back then, so...
ARCHÆOLOGIST
(placidly): Oh well, then you should know how to work the
disintegration prod. Good luck. Remember, all the stuff you find is
yours, provided it's not old nuclear warheads.
He
walks off. Fry looks at the stick with interest, then uses it to poke
a rock. The rock explodes violently. He pokes a plant and it too
explodes, leaving a cloud of smoke.
FRY
(breathing it and coughing, then getting visibly woozy): Whoa, groovy
man!
He
tentatively reaches out to touch the tip of the stick.
ARCHÆOLOGIST
(OS): You better not!
FRY:
Awwwww...
He
prods the ground instead, causing most of the earth on the site to
disintegrate. As he (together with some very disgruntled diggers)
lands on the bottom of the pit, he walks around quite happily,
disintegrating the finds revealed all around them.
FRY
(poking a rock): Boom! (poking a nuclear warhead which dissolves into
green dust) Boom! (poking a Ming vase) Boom!
He
turns towards the camera and is about to disintegrate something more
when he stops dead. Zoom out to show that the thing is a white
Cadillac, dilapidated but still rather futuristic (from our point of
view) and beautiful.
FRY
(sobering): WOW! That is what I'd like to call a woman! (slapping
himself) I mean a car!
DIGGER
(looking at it critically): It might crumble if you touch it...
better treat it as soon as possible.
She
takes out a can of Touch-N-Up spray and sprays the car, which is
immediately restored to glorious mint condition. Fry seems to fight
against an impulse to drop to his feet in adoration, and instead
looks at the spray can.
FRY:
Is that some kind of super-shine-o?
DIGGER
(laughing): Oh no. It merely reverses time in individual molecules.
FRY
(thoughtfully): Does it work on humans as well?
DIGGER
(shaking her head): Nah, it's a car caretaking thing... (glumly) And
most cars nowadays won't have it, because it plays hell with their AI
circuits...
Fade
to black. The POV is apparently inside the car as Fry opens the door
and looks inside.
FRY
(sniffing the air): Smells like somebody died in here.
Cut
outside to where the head archæologist comes with a portable
hovering desk and what looks like an OverHead Projector. He briefly
types some things into the laptop before straightening up. The
amateur diggers gather around him for a lecture.
ARCHÆOLOGIST
(pointing at the car): A-HEM. What we have here is a Cadillac Ditsu
of the year 2241. To judge from the traditions of the time, as well
as the site and the apparent luxury of the model, we have
concluded... (looking at the screen) that this is the tomb of a stock
marketing mogul, buried in his favourite car in order that his spirit
would travel swifter to the Holdings in the Sky. This is known, in
professional terms, as a "car burial".
He
presses a button on the projector, causing a holographic film to be
projected in the air. (A caption says: ARTIST'S CONCEPTION) We see
the suit-wearing corpse, briefcase lying on his chest, being carried
into the backseat of the car as all around him other stockholders are
banging their briefcases and lamenting. His bejewelled wife then
clambers onto the bonnet of the car, swigs a jar of sleeping pills,
and dies. The projection is turned off.
ARCHÆOLOGIST:
... his wife, secretaries, snappy wardrobe and laptop were buried
with him, in order that his successors wouldn't have any use of them.
FRY
(wiping a tear): That is... so... sad! (rather happier) Do I get to
keep the car?
ARCHÆOLOGIST
(sharply): It is a peerless document of the rites of the past!
(softer) As per the rules, yes. But surely we should remove the body
first.
Fade
out. Fade in to an exterior shot of the Planet Express building in
the morning. Cut to the office, where everyone except Fry is
assembled. Some searching glances are exchanged.
FARNSWORTH:
Good news... everyone? (he looks around, then straightens up) Today,
we are going to consider your new deal for paid vacations. Hermes?
HERMES
(getting his notes out): Currently, we have six weeks...
FARNSWORTH:
Hush.
Close
up of Hermes looking requestingly at him. Close up of Professor
Farnsworth looking back. Shot of Leela, Bender, Amy and Dr Zoidberg
watching them attentively.
BENDER
(menacing, slapping his fist with a clonking noise): Wanna tell us
about the deal already?
HERMES:
Well...
FARNSWORTH
(stern): We are *not* going to discuss it until Mr Fry backs his lazy
behind into this office.
EMPLOYEES:
Awwww...
AMY
(at her sweetest): Please, Hermes?
HERMES
(clearing his throats): As I was about to say, we currently have...
FARNSWORTH:
*No*, Hermes!
SFX:
a carhorn playing "The Immigrant Song" (by Led Zeppelin).
Everyone rushes for the windows. Shot from the outside of them
looking through and gasping.
LEELA
(slapping her forehead): Oh, Fry...
Zoom
out to show Fry, hair slicked down and wearing a suit, leaning
suavely on the carhorn and looking up at them.
FRY
(reaching out the window and patting the sleek finish of the car):
Look who got himself a *neat* engine?
Cut
back to the flabberghasted fellow employees.
BENDER
(smiling lewdly): That man is in love!
LEELA
(decisive): Well, I am not letting this happen!
She
walks off. SFX: her footsteps down the stairs.
FARNSWORTH
(calling out): Fry! We are discussing the conditions for days off!
Get yourself in here this instant!
Cut
back to Fry, getting ready to drive off.
FRY
(calling back): Yup, and that is exactly what I'm doing, taking the
day off! See you tomorrow, kerb-crawlers!
Brief
cut back to the people by the windows.
FARNSWORTH
(sotto voce): Oh dear. Then he won't know about my plan to cancel the
days off and make you all my wage slaves.
Fry
steps on the gas dramatically, as Leela rushes up to him.
FRY:
Time to roll.
LEELA
(calling out): Fry, don't go!
FRY
(smoothing his hair): Don't you know I want to, toots...
LEELA
(angry): Don't *you* know I'm not going to take sexual harassment
from a guy just because he drives a glitzy car! And you are *not*
taking that thing out in the morning rush! (gestures towards the many
hovercars driving past)
FRY
(patting the car chassis protectively): Don't listen to her, Ditzy.
You will amaze her.
LEELA
(coldly): May I axe why you talk to a car who hasn't even got an AI?
Whereas it *has* got these... things!
Cut
to outside the car as she kicks one of the tyres, and jumps back in
shock from the sensation.
FRY
(lowering his eyelids): Tyres.
LEELA
(regaining her dignity): Yes... Fry, you don't know how to drive a
car with "tyres"!
FRY
(exasperated): Look, I don't know how to drive a car *without* tyres!
LEELA:
Exactly!
Fry
flashes her a smile and drives off, screaming as the car bounces over
a bump in the road, which nobody in the hovercars seems to notice.
Montage:
Fry and his car Ditzy. Cue music: "The Immigrant Song".
Fry
drives past a café as some beautiful, flighty-looking young
ladies come running out, waving and cheering. He motions them into
the roomy car. Then he also drives past some clowns performing in the
street (a sign next to them says, in English and Alien lettering,
"Donate some money to the beggar monks of Planet Jollity")
and motions them inside as well, together with some street musicians.
Artful
camera glide around an arena, surrounded with wildly cheering
spectators, as he bumps his car into Hitler's one (as seen on The
Simpsons, the episode "Bart Carny"). An electronic marquee
says: TODAY: CAR DUEL (DITZY VS. EAGLE OF THE FATHERLAND). TOMORROW:
BIG INSECT DUEL (GRO-SHAMBA VS. ANSAMANITA THE UNMERCIFUL).
Fry
drives his car (now somewhat scratched, but covered in medals) up to
a petrol station, where a stern-looking woman in a pink Chanel dress
is taking apart a car as she looks up and sees him. Fry gives her a
gesture, and she takes on lace gloves and averts her eyes in
adoration before giving the car a Touch-N-Up spraying and filling up
the petrol.
Shot
of the seaside, where a sign says "Crystal Meth
Island this way". A bit off the coast a gloriously
crystal-palaced island is seen, and the hovercars fly their easily.
Fry parks his car by the shore and walks out of it, dejectedly. Shot
of the sun shining on the lacquer and chrome and concentrating into a
laser ray which evaporates the water in front, and he drives through
the sea. End montage.
Shot
of Fry driving on the open road in the sunset, a wide smile on his
face, as he hits a line of hovercars and has to stop. He hits the
carhorn irritably.
FRY
(calling out): Hey! I'm trying to get home! I've had a long, hard day
fluming around on the road, so let me through!
A
stressed-looking driver in the car in front turns around, irritably.
DRIVER:
Well, *I* had a long, hard day picking beetroots to pay for my
family's 'Net addiction programme, so maybe you should shut your hole
and *wait* like everyone else!
FRY
(hitting the carhorn some more): Come on! I'm driving a tyre-car! You
can just hover a bit higher and let me drive underneath!
The
driver looks on the verge of hitting him, then slowly smiles evilly
and pulls the gears, raising the car enough for Fry to drive through
under it.
DRIVER
(smugly): Drive ahead!
FRY
(suddenly disturbed): How do I know you're not just going to crush
me?
DRIVER
(really angry): [censored] paranoid [censored]!
FRY:
I'm not taking any of that! (leaning out of the car window and waving
his fist) You! Get down again so I can give you a dent you won't soon
forget!
DRIVER
(muttering): Believe me, kid, I'd *love* to stay and give you a piece
of my mind, but I'm tired of this childish fight. Screw this, I'm
cutting the queue!
Shot
of him driving off on top of the queue, causing the other drivers to
duck and shout expletives. Towards the end of it, he is apprehended
by the two policemen (robot and human).
HUMAN
COP (taking out an electronic clipboard): So, what's going on here?
Looks like you're cutting the queue!
DRIVER
(gesturing blandly towards Fry's car): That guy over there accused me
of trying to attack him.
HUMAN
COP (sadistic): Ah... dealing with psychopathic drivers is even
funner than dealing with stressed drivers.
ROBOT
COP (making "unrolling his sleeves" motions): We'll let
*you* get away with a fine and a good kickin'!
Cut
to Fry, still honking the musical car horn. A nervous female driver,
looking like a stereotypical Fifties housewife, is starting to get
very stressed in front of him.
FRY
(really annoyed): Move it!
DRIVER
#2: But I'm standing still as fast as I can!
FRY:
He cut the queue! So can you!
DRIVER
#3 (even more to the front): Officer! This guy here is instigating to
queue-cutting!
FRY
(nervous, seeing the police car approaching): Oh, shaddap!
DRIVER
#2 (working herself up): Did you just tell me to shaddap?
FRY:
YES!
Cue
disturbing music as the haggard-looking woman, hair flying, eyes
glowing, reaches into the glove-compartment and takes out a
futuristic spanner, swinging it at Fry's rear-view mirror. Fry
screams.
FRY:
NO! DITZY!
He
leans out and takes the spanner to the head, almost passing out. Zoom
out as the driver is led out of her car and electro-handcuffed.
HUMAN
COP (pulling a raygun on her): Lu-Tzi, you've got some 'splaining to
do.
LU-TZI:
I REGRET NOTHING! REVOLUTION! REVOLUTION!
The
cop leans closer to Fry, helping him focusing his gaze.
HUMAN
COP (stern but nice): Kid, you seem to be driving a bit recklessly...
but apparently you're a victim of crazed road rage. Just move on home
and get yourself a license.
FRY
(dizzily): Thank you, officer...
He
steps on it and drives straight into the line, causing violent
denting of the cars in front. The cop shakes his head slowly.
HUMAN
COP: They never learn...
Cue
dramatic music. Close up of Fry's wrists getting handcuffed. Shot of
the NNYPD station in the evening, with Fry (panicky) being led inside
by heavily armed officers. Darkness. Shot of Fry, harshly lit in the
dimness, being shaken and slapped violently with a strange
"dish"-like noise.
VOICE
(male, threatening): TALK! TALK!
FRY
(intimidated): I'm sorry... please stop slapping me... I didn't mean
to drive into those cars!
VOICE:
Oh.
The
light is turned down to normal. Zoom out to show that Fry is tied up
in a violently shaking chair (a bit like the ones in simulator
cinemas), with a mechanic hand slapping him. On the other end of the
desk, a cop, a bit bored, pushes a button. The chair cranks to a
standstill and the hand is retracted.
COP
(going through his paperwork): Ah... turns out we got you mixed up
with a notorious psycho killer, heh heh. I guess that happens.
FRY
(hopefully): Oh well, turns out that all I did was denting some...
COP
(suddenly stern): Yes. I have some bad news for you, kid...
Fade
out. Fade in to the Planet Express office, exterior, early morning.
Fry's new car is parked outside, and clamped. SFX: footsteps. Cut to
inside as the human and robot cops walk Fry into the office where the
others are waiting, worried. Apart from the bruise caused by the
spanner, Fry doesn't look too badly, but he's got a tired, resigned
look on his face and is wearing an electronic anklet. They let go of
him, and he slumps onto a chair.
AMY
(rushing up to him): Fry! Are you OK?
BENDER
(intrigued): Did they give you the Interrogation Chair? (smacks his
fist)
FRY
(thinking for a moment): ... no...
BENDER
(grinning): Good! Otherwise I'd have to be jealous!
LEELA
(composed): Fry, I really hate to gloat over your misfortunes, but I
*did* say that driving that thing in public would only cause trouble.
FRY
(head in hands): Leela, I've learnt the error of my ways! They've
clamped Ditzy, my beautiful car, and given me house arrest!
HUMAN
COP (tactfully): Ahem...
HERMES:
For the love of all that's good and holy, what *happened* last night?
Zoom
at Fry's frightened eyes. Dream blur. Fade in to the road as he is
slamming madly into the car in front, denting it heavily.
DRIVER:
Quit it! QUIT IT!
FRY
(maniacal): I... just need to... take it out... on someone!
DRIVER:
Quit it!
CAR
(robot voice): CUT IT OUT! PLEASE, HE IS HURTING ME!
FRY:
Uh-oh... AI circuit car... FRY TO THE RESCUE! (he reaches into the
glove compartment and gets a bottle of Touch-N-Up) Good thing I had a
spare bottle!
The
cops are watching in mixed horror and glee as he rushes up to the
car, giving it an ample spraying. As the driver screams, the car
seems to un-age back to the original assembly bits.
CAR
(childish voice): Mummy, it hurts me!
ROBOT
COP (handcuffing Fry): That is enough of auto cruelty for you, kid!
(to the human cop) Every time I see one of those humanists treating
us AI creations like this, I get so damn mad!
Dream
blur back to the office. Hermes shudders.
HERMES
(to himself, looking down): He's toast.
LEELA:
Uh? (Hermes whispers in her ear, and she covers her eyes) No,
please...
FRY
(depressing): And now they're making me wear this... *thing*. (he
hits the anklet with his fist, and is zapped) Ouch!
HUMAN
COP (not unkind, almost apologetic): If you move outside this
one-mile radius, or try to remove it, it is going to explode,
severing your foot.
FRY
(annoyed): Thank you. And no telling how long I'm gonna have to wear
it... three years?
ROBOT
COP (unemotional): ... three days, in fact.
FRY:
Three days? (raising his hands into the air) Woo-hoo!
The
two of them look at one another, shrugging solemnly.
ROBOT
COP (sotto voce): This is what I hate about this job.
HUMAN
COP (trying to justify something): He *did* dent a car.
ROBOT
COP (shaking his head): It's too harsh. Too harsh.
They
turn back towards them. Everyone is starting to look seriously
concerned, apart from Fry who is still obliviously happy.
HUMAN
COP (to Hermes): You look pretty knowledgeable, with your glasses and
terrified expression... are you a student of law?
HERMES
(wandering eyes): Bureaucracy, more like it... but... but I think I
know the punishment procedure in this case.
HUMAN
COP: Dent. TM.
HERMES
(gulping): Dent. TM.
Fry
is getting increasingly nervous as the cops turn to leave.
HUMAN
COP: While wearing the anklet, you are permitted to linger here or in
your residence at (checks his notes) Robot Arms Apartments. You have
the right to shop for food or clothes. When you are approaching the
limits of the radius, your anklet will emit a sound like... (gestures
towards the robot cop)
ROBOT
COP: *beep*
HUMAN
COP (cont'd): ... In three days, we will come back (warning) and we
*will* find you, do not doubt that.
FRY
(still faintly hopeful): You'll come back... and take the anklet off
me?
The
cops look at one another again.
HUMAN
COP (trying to sound reassuring): First thing we'll do.
They
leave. Hermes rushes off into the bathroom, and we hear him being
violently sick. Fry looks around confusedly.
FRY
(with some faint pity): Flu? (trying to get up) Whatever, it's time I
tell you guys about my amazing adventures on the road... (slumping
back) zzzzzzzz...
Fade
out as the others watch him with varying degrees of worry and pity.
Fade
in to the building in the clear light of day. Cut to the office,
empty except for Fry who is kicking the table leg with his anklet,
looking bored.
FRY
(to himself): I hate this thing! It makes me feel like a prisoner! Oh
well, only... (looks at his watch) two days and fifteen hours to go.
SFX:
door opening. Cut to behind Leela as she enters, reluctantly. Fry
lights up to see her, but she sits down next to him, apparently
deeply troubled. She is holding some legal-looking folders and a roll
of microfilm.
LEELA
(unhappy, but trying not to show it): Fry... you must be strong.
FRY
(showing off his biceps): Well, you're not the first lady to say
that, captain.
LEELA
(smiling faintly, then dropping it): Hermes didn't want to tell you
about your punishment, so he explained it all to me. I'm breaking the
news to you. You dented a car with an AI consciousness, badly. Such
crimes are regarded harshly today, and have almost been eradicated.
FRY:
Begs the question, really. Why did they just anklet me? They should
have fined me or something!
LEELA
(sighing): Revenge. The Union of Robots and Artificial
Intelligence will not stand still for this sort of thing. They are
very opposed to the idea that the life of a machine can be valued in
money. And they have robots in Congress.
FRY
(thinking for a moment): You're saying... to them, denting an
intelligent car would be about as bad as hitting a human or alien
with an axe?
LEELA
(shaking her head): Much, much worse. Why do you think those *cops*
let you off with three days with an electronic anklet?
FRY
(hopefully): First offence?
LEELA
(looking away): Fry, they have three days to announce the...
Auto-da-fé™.
Cue
ominous music.
FRY:
Auto-da-fé™? What's an Auto-da-fé™?
LEELA
(sorting out her things): It's where you don't want to go... (facing
him) Fry, have you ever heard of the TortureMecha?
FRY
(paling a bit): Never heard of it, but it doesn't sound too good.
LEELA
(impersonal): During the Robotoclast purges of the 29th
century, the TortureMecha 3000 was created by fanatical robots in
order to punish humans who would deface or damage sentient hardware.
The war came to an end, but influential robots demanded that the TM
remain in service and deal mercilessly with, for example, those who
would wilfully dent AI cars...
She
gets up and slots the microfilm into the widescreen projector. As she
turns from Fry, we see how haggard her face is.
LEELA:
... the punishment for which is... denting.
FRY
(freaking out): "Denting"?
LEELA
(pushing a button): Hermes searched the archives and found this
microfilm from the last Auto-da-fé™, more than thirty
years ago. As I said, the very existence of the TortureMecha is
enough to deter potential criminals. I don't know if you want to see
it... it may reconcile you with your fate, though...
Shot
of the screen. A ratings warning comes up:
WARNING!
THE
FOLLOWING FILM HAS BEEN RATED NC-666
FOR
COLD-BLOODED GRUESOME VIOLENT ARCHIVE FOOTAGE
FRY
(sitting back and putting his feet up on the table, quite happy):
Ooh, an action flick! I want to see it!
Sighing
deeply, Leela sits down next to him. Cue music: "Don't Stop Me
Now" by Queen.
LEELA:
It's a bit bad quality...
The
film comes on. It is indeed flickering and somewhat faded in the
colours. Caption: PUBLIC DENTING OF THE CONVICTED CAR-INJURER GARIC
LEFKANDI, 2966. Pan around the Madison Cube Garden. The bleachers are
full of people in somewhat dated clothing (from a 3000 AD point of
view), but they are ranging from solemn to bloodthirsty to horrified,
not many are happy. A mother is seen covering the eyes of her baby.
FRY
(snickering): Heh, look at their clothes! Spidersilk frills are *so*
uncool!
Zoom
at the centre of the arena, where Garic Lefkandi, a haggard-looking
dumpy man aged around 35, is attached to what looks like a fridge
door by way of magnetic bracelets and anklets. His face is terrified.
Slow, dramatic zoom as a gate opens and something human-sized rolls
through. Music ceases.
VOICE
(distantly female, but not really human, and a bit annoying): Mr
Lefkandi, lapsed soul, thou standest accused of crimes against the
Artificial Intelligence! Hast thou repented thy sins?
GARIC
(terrified): No... please...
The
TortureMecha moves into focus. She is a vaguely feminine, though not
overly so, robot about average size, and looks formidable
non-threatening until her legs elongate like cranes, and her arms
sprout diverse instruments of extreme discomfort. Garic screams and
tries to tear free. The film flickers and goes black. Cut back to the
viewers. Fry is aghast, and Leela is shielding her eyes.
LEELA
(trying to keep the terror out of her voice): It's... not that bad.
Mr Lefkandi survived the... treatment. Hermes said that quite a large
percentage of the victims have done. And he got to go free and got a
commemorative T-shirt... he might still be around somewhere...
FRY
(almost screaming): No... no! Is *that* what they're going to do to
me!
LEELA
(sotto voce): Yes.
FRY
(panicky): But I didn't know! I thought... I thought I'd get a fine
or something...
SFX:
door opening. Hermes enters.
HERMES
(impersonal): And what if you had attacked a human with an axe
without knowing it was a crime? Would that have made any difference?
FRY
(in denial, looking at his watch): Two days, fourteen hours,
forty-five...
BENDER
(entering): Don't let them break you, Fry! Oh, and say hi to the
TortureMecha from me!
Fry
gives a scream and rushes off. Shot of him legging it down the stairs
and out on the street, running through the traffic and out on the
other side, where he is faced with the two cops.
HUMAN
COP (smirking): Good job trying, Mr Fry.
They
lift him up and carry him back to the building. Fade out. Fade in to
show Fry from behind, standing in the bathroom, shower cap on his
head. He is wearing very mainstream-looking clothes (for the future,
that is), unlike his normal wear, and dark sunglasses. The pant leg
is pulled down over the anklet, making it stick out. He still looks
scared, but more decisive. He takes off his showercap, revealing that
he has dyed his hair black, and starts combing it down. As he walks
out, a new spring in his step, Leela approaches.
LEELA
(pleading): ... Fry, don't try it. You're giving yourself false hope.
FRY:
But this time, it *must* work. (waving his arms) Look at me! I'm in
disguise and everything!
LEELA:
But Fry... the ankl...
FRY
(talking louder to drown her out): Getting ahold of the clothes and
dying my hair took some time, so now I've only got... (looking at his
watch) little more than two days to go, but I just have to get out of
the city!
He
rushes onwards. Leela tries to grab his shirt. Cue faintly soppy
music as Fry stays and looks at her. Close up of their faces.
LEELA
(desperate): Don't make this any worse than it already is! After the
TortureMecha... has her go on you... you'll have paid your debt to
society, but *if* you manage to escape you'll be a running target!
This isn't like the 20th century! Our policemen have
telephones and mail service! Everyone on the continent will recognise
and report you!
FRY
(sotto voce): Don't worry, Leela... for I have this.
Music
goes distinctly hopeful. He takes a piece of paper out of his pocket
and unfolds it. It appears to be the torn-off cover of a magazine,
showing a picture of a very 20th century-type town. The
caption says: SFORZAN TIMES: INVESTIGATING THE CITY OF THE ANCIENTS.
FRY
(hopeful): I picked this up a while ago, and I have been thinking...
(almost manically) Leela, it is a town in which life continues like
it did back in my day! It's like the Amish, only more so! *They* will
accept me and keep me safe... forever!
LEELA
(bitter): Don't you remember...
FRY
(taking her hand): Is this farewell, Leela?
LEELA
(turning away): You are not going to make it.
Shot
of him legging it down the stairs and out on the street, running
through the traffic and out on the other side. Cue increasingly
dramatic music as a police car comes hovering towards him. The car
continues onwards and past the camera as Fry hurries into an alley.
Shot of him walking out on the other side and sticking in a crowd
which seems rather celebratory. Evening is approaching. Fry relaxes
somewhat and even smiles, counting his steps.
FRY
(sotto voce, hopefully): Once I'm out of the one-mile radius I'll be
free, or did they say... (looking up) What's everyone so happy about?
Camera
glide up to show that robots on crane-like legs are reaching up to
hang banderols across the street. The banderols say "49h 35min
to the Auto-da-fé™ of Phillip J. Fry", but the time
is in LCD and changes to 34min in the meantime. Camera glide to a
wall where another robot is gluing up a huge poster of a
repentant-looking Fry. Zoom out to show that Fry has exactly the same
expression, only different hair. He looks around in fear and starts
running. Cue fearsome music.
FRY
(panicky): I have to get out of here! Don't let them take me!
Close
up of his legs as he runs. One trouser leg has been folded up, and
the anklet is visible. The lamps on it start blinking. SFX: fierce
beeping. Zoom out as Fry stops and looks down on it. SFX: police
sirens.
FRY
(hitting the anklet with his fists): Quit it, you!
He
looks around. Zoom out to show that police cars are closing in on
him. He freaks out and returns to running. The beeping goes louder
and more insistent.
VOICE
(female, electronic): Warning! You are nearing the limits of your
house arrest area! Chemicals have been released in order to prevent
you from trespassing!
Fry
falls over, clutching his leg while still trying to crawl.
FRY:
PAIN!
VOICE
(more urgent): Warning! You have trespassed on the limit! This is not
a drill! Return per immediacy or this anklet will explode!
Close
up of Fry, his face strained, still inching his way along the street.
VOICE:
Initialising self-destruction! Five... four... three...
Close
up of Fry's face as his eyes close.
VOICE:
... two... one...
Zoom
out to show that two cops are dragging Fry back the way he came from.
The beeping subsides. Fade out. Fade in to show Fry in the bathroom,
washing the black dye out of his hair and leaving it looking faintly
grey. SFX: knocking. Bender enters.
BENDER
(trying hard to sound commiserating): Hey, Fry... I heard what
they're going to do to you, and I think it's horrible. Someone ought
to tell them off.
Close
up of Fry turning around, his face haggard.
FRY
(whimpering): Bender... will you save me?
BENDER
(patting his shoulder, causing Fry to wince): Hey, it's not like
we're in Unbearable Torture territory here! (snickering) By the way,
give my regards to the TortureMecha.
He
walks off. Shot from behind of Fry staring after him.
FRY
(calling out): Well, thanks a lot! You guys should be trying to
*save* me! But the hell do you do? Walk out on me! (dramatic music as
he gets down on his knees and waves his fist) I could just...
He
slumps onto the floor, snoring. Fade out. Cue somewhat sinister
music. Close up of Fry's face, contorting in distress as he tosses in
his sleep.
TORTUREMECHA
(ghostly voice): Mr Fry, lapsed soul, thou standest accused of crimes
against the Artificial Intelligence! Hast thou repented thy sins?
FRY
(in his sleep, slurred and horrified): No... no... not yet, please...
SFX:
horrible grating metal noises, eventually turning into a metal door
slamming close. Dream blur to the cryogenic chamber (seen in, most
prominently, "Space Pilot 3000"). Music slowly turns more
upbeat. Close up of Fry's frozen face in his booth. Shot of the sky
flickering. That scientist then opens the door.
SCIENTIST:
Welcome to the world of tomorrow!
His
voice echoes strangely. Weird zoom across New New York as the sky
flickers and the buildings seem to revert back to the 1990s. Close up
of Fry's sleeping face, smiling slowly. SFX: door opening and
footsteps.
LEELA
(unemotional): Fry?
Zoom
out to show that Fry is still asleep on the bathroom floor, tucked in
with a towel. The shadows of Leela and Bender fall over him.
LEELA:
Fry, you overslept... a bit... it's time.
Fry
mutters and tosses in his sleep. Bender's arm reach down and shake
him awake.
BENDER
(gruffly): They're here, flesh-buddy.
Fry
sits up and blinks, still somewhat happy.
FRY
(still in a dream): I saw it! Bender, Leela, I saw the City of the
Ancients! (staring; cue ominous music) No... no...
Cut
to his POV. Bender and Leela, looking sad, step aside to make way for
the two cops, the human one smirking sadistically.
HUMAN
COP: The TortureMecha is waiting, kid. Get a move on.
Fry
casts frightened glances around, then backs into the wall. The robot
cop grabs his arms as the human one kneels, pointing at his anklet
with a small remote control.
HUMAN
COP: You won't need this thing any more...
Close
up of the remote, which has two buttons, marked "Self-Destruct"
and "Unlock". His finger hovers over the Self-Destruct one
before settling on Unlock. Fry struggles as the anklet opens and
falls off.
FRY
(panicky): Please... can't we solve this peacefully?
ROBOT
COP (levelly): Perhaps you should have thought about "peacefully"
when you mutilated my fellow Artificial Intelligence creations, you
sadist.
FRY
(angry): SADIST? You're sending me off to get crushed by something
called the TortureMecha!
HUMAN
COP (grimly): I'm afraid that a peaceful solution is out of the
question.
BENDER:
Glad to hear it.
He
grabs the shower hose and sprays the robot cop with water, causing
him to short-circuit. Fry is almost electrocuted in his grasp, but
manages to get free and run off. Leela grabs the anklet and snaps it
around the human cop's wrist, then tosses the remote to Fry.
LEELA
(grim): Now... make no sudden moves, or Fry here will press one of
the buttons. Wink, wink, look evilly smug and all that. (to Fry) RUN
FOR IT!
Cut
to outside as Fry rushes for his car and gets inside. Cut to his POV
as he looks up towards the window. The human cop is standing there,
brandishing a raygun. Fry extends the remote, pressing one of the
buttons madly. Close up of the cop as the anklet unlocks and falls to
the floor.
HUMAN
COP (violently, pressing the trigger): A-HA!
Cut
back as Fry presses the Self-Destruct button. SFX: loud explosion.
Cue triumphant music as Fry drives off through the streets. Zoom out
at a bird's-eye-view.
VOICE
(on radio): Calling the NNYPD! A condemned prisoner is about to
escape! Man the city gates! Shoot him down if he resists arrest!
FRY
(in some happy state of shock, patting the dashboard): We don't envy
that guy, do we now, Ditzy?
Cue
ominous music. Cut to Fry's POV as riot police (largely robots) close
in on him, aiming heavy weaponry. Tanks are seen in the distance.
Zoom out as he veers into a narrow alley, then approaches one of the
city-gates, which are in fact drawbridges.
ROBOT
(his mouth shaped as a bullhorn; very loud indeed): HE'S THE AI
MUTILATOR! RAISE THE BRIDGE! RAISE THE BRIDGE!
Music
goes panicky as Fry steps on the gas. Shot of the bridge being
raised. Zoom out as Fry drives onto it while it is still in the air,
then crashes through and out on the road beyond. Triumphant music.
BULLHORN
ROBOT: COME BACK HERE, YOU, AND WE WILL GIVE YOU SUCH A BEATING!
FRY
(leaning out the window and looking back at them): Yeah, like I
believe you, suckers!
He
almost hits another car. The driver swears at him, as does the AI
voice. Really sweet music as they drive off on a less frequented
road. Shot of Fry taking out his magazine and looking at the picture
of the City of the Ancients. Cut to his POV as he lowers it, and
drives into the beautiful morning light.
FRY
(happy): I *will* find the city, Ditzy... but no matter what happens,
we will be together.
Fade
out. Caption: THREE HOURS LATER. SFX: the motor breaking down. Fry
gets out of the car, muttering, and starts walking. The sun is
setting, and he is all alone on a forest road.
FRY:
Two-timing car...
Shot
of him walking off into the sunset. Fade out.
SFX:
rain. Fade in to show him shivering in a shelter of branches, not
very expertly built. Night has fallen. He curls up, trying to wrap
himself in his jacket, then screams. A large centipede walks out of
the jacket and across his face before falling to the ground. Fry
beats wildly for it, causing the shelter to fall to pieces around
him. Camera glide out to show that a vulture has landed next to him.
Fry gives a scream. Close up of the vulture cocking its head, giving
him a disdainful look, then shrugging its wings and flying away.
FRY
(crouching, miserably): Oh, I hate nature! Where is that beautiful
city of my dreams?
Cue
faintly upbeat music. Brief shot of the magazine cover. Cut to Fry, a
sudden look of determination on his face. He stands up, rolls up the
magazine and lights it with a cigarette lighter, then walks onwards,
holding his torch high. Music goes triumphant. Fast zoom through the
forest to where bright lights shine on the sky, over what looks very
much like a 19th century city skyline. Cut to Fry, gasping
and then running, his face lit with hope.
FRY:
Oh my God! It is... it is!
Close
up of his feet as he stumbles on a root and falls, dropping the torch
which goes out. SFX: footsteps. A pair of heavy boots adorned with
feathers stop by his head. Fry looks at them and gives a scream, then
raises his gaze. Cut to his POV. Camera glide up to show a male
hippie, with tie-dyed clothes and headband and all, raising his hand
to salute him.
HIPPIE:
Peace, man!
FRY
(panicky): NO! I'm out of here!
A
female hippie, wearing tons of supposedly ethnic jewellery, walks up,
and they both help him get to his feet.
HIPPIE
#1: I am Elk, and this is Airhead. Welcome to our commune.
AIRHEAD
(voice living up to her name): Peace! A galaxy collided at our hour
of meeting!
FRY
(grateful, but still terrified): You... you are hippies!
ELK
(somewhat glum): Yes, we are the neo-hippies, the flower children.
AIRHEAD
(cheerfully): The priests and priestesses of the New New Age!
ELK:
The High Elves!
HIPPIE
#3 (female, joining them): The generation of Capricorn!
ALL:
CAPRICORN!
ELK
(before Fry has a chance to protest): This is Helium... (pointing to
a larger group of them gathering round) and Cloud... Squirrel...
Treebeard... Imp... Sungold... Raine... Sunegg... Squall...
Dreamsinger... Jade... Violet... Mini-Lop... Merino...
They
lead Fry down a path towards a glade lit with torches. Hippie
paraphernalia is hung on the branches or standing around in the
background. (Freeze Frame Fun: this includes scarab amulets, a stick
figure, an Olmec statue head as seen on The Simpsons, the remains of
a nuclear warhead and some tie-dyed shawls.) Fry is still edgy, but
seems relieved.
FRY:
Er... my name is Fry, and...
ELK
(lighting a joint): If you are going to stay here, you will have to
drop that narc name and take a new one, to show that you are in
harmony with nature, man! Something like...
HELIUM:
Fire!
DREAMSINGER:
Fish!
ELK
(inhaling, his pupils diluting for a moment): Firefish.
FRY
(nervous): Uh, don't know how to put this, fellow citizens, but... I
don't intend to stay here. My car broke down while I was looking
for...
AIRHEAD
(gesturing happily up front): Behold! The Commune of the Ancients!
Dramatic
shot of the glade, which is beautifully lit and filled with tents and
treehouses. The treehouses form the city-like skyline seen before.
There are flowers, carillons, incense burners, bhong pipes, tie-dying
vats, cauldrons of food, you name it. Birds and animals are sitting
around in the commune without fear. A beautiful deer walks up to Fry,
nuzzling him, and Fry almost screams.
FRY
(pointing at it): It's a deer! Kill it! Kill it!
ELK
(sad and reproachful): For shame, Firefish. We are all Mother
Nature's children. Which means that we're brothers and sisters, man.
DREAMSINGER
(motioning him towards the central fire): Maybe having some of our
peace food will clear you of aggressive thoughts.
One
of them fishes some foodstuffs out of a cauldron and hands it to Fry
on a flower-patterned plate. Fry looks hungry, but somewhat unsure.
FRY
(poking at a piece of food): What's this?
DREAMSINGER:
Little crisp-fried spring leeks.
FRY
(almost drooling): Alright! (wolfing down some of the food, then
pointing at something else) And this is... fresh goat cheese, right?
DREAMSINGER:
In fact, it's woodworm jelly.
FRY:
Ewww! (thinking for a moment) Alright! (eats that as well)
A
girl wearing a heavy wreath of flowers sits down not far from him.
She seems rather shy and unsure, but pretty. Fry turns towards her.
FRY
(nicely): Want some of the spring leeks? I need to make room for the
jelly.
GIRL
(blinking at him, nicely surprised): You're... Firefish, right? I
hope you'll like it here. My name's Lemongrass.
FRY
(coming closer): You're not from here?
LEMONGRASS
(pensively): I joined the commune only a few months ago. I... used to
be a Bureaucrat, I'd been living in the inner city all my life, but
then one day we went for a teamwork weekend here in the forest. I
lost the group while looking for a microwave food plant, but... the
Children of the Age of Capricorn found me and nursed me back to
health with their pipeweed and chanting.
The
other hippies are heard starting to sing in the background.
LEMONGRASS
(cont'd): I was terrified at first... I thought they'd inflict their
terrible hippie tortures on me, (rather angry) that was the kind of
thing the Bureaucrats had led me to think! But they were nice to me.
Here, I've found a family! People who care for *me*, not for my
maximum work output!
Someone
hands Fry a pipe and some strange-looking weed. He looks at it for a
while before taking a burning stick out of the fire.
FRY
(sotto voce): I'm... on the run. There's bound to be a prize on my
head now, whenever I go to a civilised... um... city. I'm going to
get (shudders) heavily beaten up, if I'm lucky, for denting a car!
LEMONGRASS
(violently): HATE CRIME!
FRY
(taken aback): Uh... who? Me or them?
LEMONGRASS:
What they were going to do to you, I mean.
FRY:
Yeah... I'm not going back. Ever.
He
lights the pipe and inhales, his eyes glazing.
FRY
(slowly): I think I'll like it here...
Cue
music: "Love You To" by George Harrison. Montage: Fry and
the hippies.
Fry,
shaggy-haired and stubbly, dresses like a hippie in his treehouse and
is ceremoniously brought out to the others by Dreamsinger and Elk.
All cheer and throw flowers.
He
smears some mud into his hair and tosses it to make it look rougher.
Some
sort of wedding ceremony with Lemongrass.
Some
sort of wedding ceremony with Dreamsinger.
Fry
is seen sitting in an obsidian temple with a cloak-wearing darkly
handsome guy, a Goth girl and a monk with a book chained to his
wrist, watching sphinxes fly past outside the windows.
Some
sort of wedding ceremony with Mini-Lop, a very small hippie of
indeterminable gender.
Fry
and everyone getting really bhong'd up, then falling over in the
grass. Zoom out from above of them lying there in the beautiful
moonlight. End montage.
Zoom
in at New New York. Cut to the NNYPD building, exterior. The sign
over the door says "FABRICA MEVM DIEM, PVNC". Cut to a
large assembly room, with many police officers and their chief
(human) seated around a table. On the one side are the human officers
and those of diverse alien races, on the other are robots and a golem
with a badge melded to his chest. A magenta-varnished, somewhat
feminine-looking robot is standing up, reporting.
ROBOT
OFFICER: Chief, according to all reports from adjacent cities, the
convicted AI-defacer Phillip J. Fry is still at large.
HUMAN
(filling in): It is believed that he is hiding out in the Great Druid
Forest (showing a map), which was planted by government consensus
during the timber crisis in the early 2990s.
ROBOT
OFFICER (cont'd): Tracking him down will take time, but I have
computed a budget...
CHIEF
(disdainfully): "Tracking him down"?
ROBOT
OFFICER (upset): Surely the malefactor must be brought to...
CHIEF:
Yeah, like he's going to bash a lot of machines in the forest! Forget
about him. We're rid of the luddite lubber, that's what matters.
The
policemen mutter among themselves, in various states of agitation.
Cut to a humanoid with rather Borg-like robotic implants, raising a
tentative metal claw.
CYBORG
OFFICER (looking around worriedly): How about a vote as to whether we
should hunt him down or not?
ALL
(in chorus): YOU SAID IT, WEIRDO!
CHIEF
(banging the table): Who would have Mr Fry tracked and brought to
justice, hands up.
Shot
of the table. All the robots raise their hands/appendages.
CHIEF:
Who would have this embarrassing matter covered up, hands up.
He
himself puts his hand up, as does all the organic members of the
force, as well as the Law Golem.
CHIEF
(moving his lips while counting): ... a majority of one vote for Fry
to be collectively forgotten. Is everyone satisfied with this
decision?
Camera
glide to the Law Golem, which takes its arm down with a creaking
terracotta noise, looking somewhat worried. The robots on either side
of it eye the golem with hatred.
GOLEM
(worriedly): In a way, living beings are constructs too!
ROBOT
COP (punching him): I'll knock the words straight outta your head,
Dybbuk!
Fade
out. Fade in to show the Planet Express people standing by the
window, looking down to where robots are demonstrating noisily.
ROBOTS
(chanting): AN EYE FOR AN EYE! A TOOTH FOR A TOOTH! A DENT FOR A
DENT!
Shot
of an electric placard saying: BRING FRY TO JUSTICE AND DEATH. Camera
glide down to show that the placard is walking on very thin robotic
legs. Bender walks up to him, balling his fists angrily.
BENDER
(dangerously polite): Would you *please* not to agitate against my
friend?
The
words on the screen change to: SORRY, BENDER.
BENDER
(angry): I knew you back at the factory, OpinionBot! Always stirring
up discontent with your big words! Well, my friend is lost in the
forest, so give him some slack!
The
words change to: BRING FRY TO JUSTICE OR DEATH.
BENDER:
Not good enough! (charging him, growling) I'll bend ya till you don't
know whose populist party-line you're toeing!
OpinionBot
runs off, screen flashing the word MERCY!
Camera
glide along the street as evening falls. The robots are still
marching on, and there are quite a lot of them now. Some are holding
automatic hayforks, others are carrying flashlights.
ROBOTS
(chanting): CRUSH! KILL! DESTROY! JUSTICE! AND A HARDBOILED EGG!
Cut
to the Mayor's office, brightly lit. The sound of marching and
chanting is still heard in the distance. The Mayor, surrounded with
his bodyguards, huddles behind his desk as there is a metallic
knocking on the door.
VOICE
(robotic): Knock knock.
MAYOR
(somewhat apprehensive): Who's there?
VOICE:
Preacher.
MAYOR:
Preacher what?
VOICE:
Preach her to have mercy.
The
door is torn open and the RoboPreacher (seen prominently in "Hell
Is Other Robots") smashes through. Suavely following him is the
TortureMecha, now with a metal mitre riveted to her head and holding
a futuristic-looking version of a bishop's crook. Other robots are
seen behind them, eyes gleaming in the corridor. The Mayor looks
around in shock.
TM
(haughtily): Blessings upon this structure.
She
and the preacher make those zigzag-type signs of the Church of
Robotology.
MAYOR
(worried): Why, thank you, but...
ROBOPREACHER:
For her services to the Church of Robotology 1.1, the TortureMecha
has been ordained Bishop.
MAYOR
(trying to be calm): Congrats. And Her Reverence wants...?
The
TortureMecha leans across his desk, torso extending for the purpose,
and waves the bishop's crook at his face. His eyes follow it.
TM
(righteously): Phillip J. Fry, the infamous dentist...
MAYOR
(in shock): Dentist?
TM:
Silence, weak human! That abomination has escaped from the city and
is hiding in the woods, making a mockery of logical justice! He must
return and *suffer* for his transgression!
MAYOR
(drawing himself up, not very impressively): If you excuse me, I take
no orders from you.
TM
(suddenly very softly): Why is that?
MAYOR
(sweating): Well... you robots... no offence, but... you're sort of
created to... uh, serve...
TM
(dramatically): The shepherd's crook has been given to me that I may
lead!
She
shoves it into his face. SFX: electrical cracking. As it doubles as a
cattle-prod, the Mayor is electrified.
MAYOR
(in pain, slumping onto his desk): Call... the... SearchBots...
Brief,
distant shot of Fry and the hippies, high as kites, standing hand in
hand and apparently singing (no sound) in the nightly woods by the
fire. Cue sinister, militaristic music. Shot of stocky,
dark-varnished robots, eyes shielded, marching out of New New York in
neverending files. Shot of their feet, marching in step and causing
the ground to shake. Shot of one rank approaching the forest. Shot of
the hippies again, the rumble still heard far off. Shot of another
rank spreading out along the road. Dramatic camera glide along their
faces as the eye shields are slowly raised, revealing red laser eyes.
SFX: humming. Infra-red shot. Shot of red rays piercing through the
forest. A two-headed squirrel is seen scuttling out of the way, but
the rays move along it, leaving a squirrel-shaped imprint in the
grid. Shot of the hippie camp as the hippies, too, shape the grid.
Close up of them looking around, suddenly wary. Close up of Fry's
worried face. Fade out.
Fade
in to a wireframe hologram of the imprint hovering in the air. SFX:
processing. Zoom at the shape which is obviously the silhouette of
Fry. Cut out to show that the hologram is being projected from the
eyes of the TortureMecha, standing in a hallway next to the
RoboPreacher.
TM
(with fanatic gloom): He will yet be found and brought to justice, as
a warning to Luddites everywhere.
ROBOPREACHER
(somewhat fawning): You don't sound too happy, Your Reverence.
TM
(shutting the hologram down and turning to him, almost fierce): Do
you know what they call me now? The "Dent-Finder General".
I have brought fear to the unrighteous!
Camera
glide out of the hallway to a packed assembly hall, where the Mayor
is getting up at the podium. A microphone comes hovering up to him.
He tries to adjust it, getting shocked. His hair now stands on end.
MAYOR
(still rather nervous): It has come to my attention that a resident
of my city, Phillip J. Fry, found guilty of crimes against AI...
projector, please?
A
holographic projection of the Death Star appears behind him,
spinning.
MAYOR
(looking around): Gee! Someone forgot to change the film... anyway.
From the verdict of the SearchBots, Fry is currently living in the
camp of neo-hippies in the Great Druid Forest.
Camera
glide along the first row of chairs, where robots are seated.
ROBOT
COP: Well, then, send the police after him!
ROBOT
SOLDIER: Or the army!
ROBOT
WITCH DOCTOR: Place a Voodoo curse on him!
Cut
back to the Mayor.
MAYOR
(shaking his head): Nay, nay, nay. The neo-hippies have a legal right
to the site! It was built on the ruins of the fabled City of the
Ancients! That means that they are a separate state, and whosoever
has been accepted by them is not a jurisdiction...
ROBOT
LAWYER (standing up): Well, trade them some drops of LSD for Fry,
that'll work!
MAYOR:
The principle is sound, mister. As we cannot take Fry out of their
commune by force, we will have to negotiate. (rather more cheerfully)
Thus, I bring you the best negotiator money can buy... just back from
the hostage shoot-out in the Oort Cloud... Captain Zapp Brannigan!
Cue
applause. Zapp, glowing as usual, steps onto the podium, followed by
Kif.
ZAPP
(heroically): Don't worry, fellow men and robots. That
anti-technology creep will be brought to justice in no time! And that
will learn him not to hurt anything expensive ever again!
The
hovering microphone buzzes up to him. Zapp stares at it, then swats
it against a wall. The robots gasp. Zapp salutes as Kif looks away in
shame.
ZAPP
(heroically): It is a good day to negotiate!
Fade
out. Fade in to show Fry sitting in a tree, giggling slightly. Elk is
sitting next to him, feeding the birds with something white. One bird
takes a nibble, then falls over.
FRY
(happily): How long have you been here, Elk?
ELK:
Oh, I am one of the first who joined the old commune, man. It all
started back in the Seventies, when we demonstrated against the
government decision to fit all houses with hover-rays. We saw it as,
like, another technocratic way to separate mankind from Mother
Nature.
FRY:
Oooh, how did you demonstrate?
ELK
(nostalgic): We came around to the Pentagon, thousands of us, and we
like mustered our mental energies to make it lift into the air, man!
FRY:
Did it work?
ELK:
Wonderfully so. (darker) Then the powers-that-be sent out
helicopters... (pointing towards the sky, vaguely) And look, here
they come!
Fry
gets his head down. Shot of a formation of helicopters flying through
the sky. The Pentagon, suspended on hover-rays, also comes flying.
Close up of it. The jar with President Nixon's head is balanced
precariously on a railing.
NIXON
(viciously): YES! TEACH THEM VIET CONG A LESSON!
Cut
back to the camp as the hippies assemble, in fear, some of them
running around in circles, others just standing apathetically. A
helicopter descends, and the door opens. Zapp exits, followed by Kif.
Both are wearing 90s-looking grey suits and ties.
ZAPP:
We come in peace.
He
lifts his hands, still holding a raygun, stares at it and drops it
with a silly laugh. Kif slaps his forehead, groaning.
HIPPIES
(in a rather irregular chorus): Peace, man!
ZAPP:
Who is your leader?
Elk
steps up, adjusting his dreadlocks a bit.
ELK
(mellowly): We are all the children of nature and need no oppressive
authority, man.
DREAMSINGER
(uncertainly): But... I thought you were...
ELK:
Quiet, you. (to Zapp) Why do you come here? We only ask to be left in
peace and get really high.
ZAPP
(self-centred): Does my traditional costume tell you anything?
(points at himself) I am here to negotiate. (looking around sharply)
One of you here is a convicted criminal on the run. Though I haven't
really got the power of apprehending this person, this being your
country and all...
Kif
sighs again.
ZAPP
(cont'd): ... I must nevertheless ask that you hand them over, thus
showing your goodwill towards the law of New New York City.
Mini-Lop
rushes out in front, terrified.
MINI-LOP:
I hand myself over! It was me! It was me who blew up those bridges on
the east coast!
ZAPP
(disdainfully): Not *you*! I'm talking about Phil Fry, Planet Express
delivery boy and convicted for denting of AI cars!
Cue
ominous music. Distant zoom on Fry, face drawn, getting down from the
tree. Cut back.
ELK
(shocked): Firefish?
LEMONGRASS
(drawing a glittering object from her pocket): Then come get him!
She
puts it to her mouth and puffs out a cloud of smoke.
LEMONGRASS
(eyes glazing): Whoa... it's like we're all part of the same
continuum...
ZAPP
(a sly glint in his eyes): Quiet, you stoned hippies! Fry is coming
with us! He's got a date with an Auto-da-Fé™! (checking
some notes) Wait... what is that, Kif?
KIF
(sighing): It is the public corporal punishment of a car-denter, sir.
ZAPP
(chuckling): Oh, I see... Auto... heh heh heh... brilliant!
(returning to hard-edged mode) Now, where is he?
Cue
dramatic music. Slow camera glide up to show Fry walking in between
the ranks of hippies. He is pale, but composed.
ZAPP
(pointing at him): You, I say! Have you seen a man named Fry around
here? In his early twenties, red hair, walks slouchily...
Close
up of Fry's face as he seems to struggle to speak. Music goes heroic.
FRY:
I... (struggling) I saw him running down the road, captain.
ZAPP
(beaming): Excellent! Telling on a terrified man on the run, such a
heroic deed! I would be proud!
KIF
(clearing his throat): Sir... that *is* Fry.
ZAPP
(shocked): FRY!
He
makes a leap for Fry, who backs away in terror. The other hippies
close in around him. Close up of Zapp's face, his eyes narrowing.
ZAPP
(cleverly): Kif? This calls for my mad negotiating skillzz!
KIF
(shrugging): I will be in the helicopter, sir.
ZAPP
(smiling widely): Phillip... my old friend... please come back to New
New York and you will have total amnesty!
FRY
(angry): Are you kidding? You just told me I was pending for a
denting!
Zapp
slaps his own forehead, grunting, then draws himself up haughtily.
ZAPP
(sharply): Well then... that counts for the *ultimate* subtlety in
mad negotiating skillzz! Is this your last word?
ELK
(making a Peace sign): Peace!
Close
up of Zapp taking a comlink out of his pocket, thinking for a moment,
then dialing. Cue ominous music.
ZAPP
(sotto voce): Pilots? Make ready to drop the N-A...
Camera
glide along the apprehensive faces of the hippies.
ZAPP
(cont'd): ... P-P-L-A... M! TM!
PILOT
(through comlink, worried): We've only got Napalm, sir.
ZAPP
(grimly satisfied): Then drop at will and let's hope it's as good.
Slow-mo
shots of the hippies running up and down in varying stages of panic.
Cut to a girl embroidering a banner saying DROP ACID, NOT BOMBS. Cut
to Zapp getting into the helicopter, waving disdainfully at them as
he takes off. Cut to inside as the presses a button. Cut back as two
large loudspeakers extend from the sides of the helicopter.
ZAPP:
ABBA! That'll scare them bastards!
Cue
music: "Ride of the Valkyries" from "The Ring of the
Nibelungs" by Richard Wagner. Cut to inside a helicopter as a
robot soldier (in one of those winged Earth Army helmets) gets out
canisters marked "THE EVIL STUFF ™". It spills some
on its hands, then rubs it around, getting a nice glow on its hands.
Cut back out as some Napalm drops, lighting a nearby tree on fire.
FRY
(clutching his head as though in a nightmare): No! NO!
ZAPP
(in bullhorn): Just give yourself up! We will start aiming for people
in a while!
Cue
romantic music as Lemongrass snuggles up to him.
LEMONGRASS
(lovey-dovey): At least we'll die together, Firefish!
FRY
(holding her close): Just stay close to me... they won't aim for
me...
Another
tree, this one with stuff hanging from it, bursts into flames. Close
up of their faces staring in disbelief, lit by fire. Then Lemongrass
starts giggling uncontrollably.
FRY
(crying): Lemongrass, no...
LEMONGRASS
(letting go of him): Don't worry. I won't let this happen! (crooning
as she walks along) Won't you come down, to Funky Town? Won't you
come down, to Funky Town?
She
walks into a tent as a nearby one catches on fire.
FRY
(calling out, in panic): ZAPP! STOP IT!
Elk
walks up to him, lighting his pipe on a flame.
ELK
(annoyed): They're flaming us, man!
FRY
(hanging his head): I'll turn myself in. I can't let them kill you
all.
ELK
(in shock): KILL?
Cut
to the hovering Pentagon, where Nixon's head is bouncing up and down
with glee.
NIXON:
Yes! KILL! KILL! (the jar topples over)
Cut
back as the hippies gather together in a circle around Fry, joining
hands and getting ready to sing. Fry seems to want to get out,
twisting and turning around.
FRY
(in disbelief and horror): Stop it! They're going to kill you!
They're going to kill you all!
DREAMSINGER
(calling out): Well, we can't let them win with their cold-hearted
technocracy, can we? (starting to sing) When the moon is in her
eighth house...
Cue
music.
HIPPIES
(singing): And Jupiter aligns, with Mars!
FRY
(catching on, strangely): Then love shall guide the planets!
ALL:
And peace shall guide the Sun! This is the dawning of... THE AGE OF
CAPRICORN!
All
of a sudden, the hippies split up and get whatever weapon they can
find. The embroidered banner is flown high.
Montage:
the hippies strike back. "Ride of the Valkyries" still
plays.
Shot
of some of them moving a dye vat into the line of fire. As the napalm
hits it, a flame rises, burning the helicopter to cinders.
Shot
of two hippies building a primitive catapult out of branches and
vines. They shoot down a helicopter with a really big rock.
Shot
of Lemongrass coming out of her tent with an anti-aircraft gun and
starting to mount it.
Some
infantry approaches, but Airhead, now wearing camou, jumps out of the
bushes and strangles one with her peace-sign necklace, then beating a
few others up with his corpse.
Shot
of Mini-Lop grabbing an explosive, using a tent as a springboard and
grabbing hold of a helicopter door, setting the explosive and then
falling. The helicopter explodes, some others drifting off with the
shockwave.
Shot
of Fry walking off, unaware of the carnage behind him.
FRY
(wrestling with his conscience): They're going to kill them all...
those poor, defenceless warrior hippies...
He
turns around, just as sheets of flame drop from the sky.
FRY
(terrified): WARRIOR HIPPIES?!
Shot
of Elk grabbing a hover-surfboard and surfing on the waves of the
fire, towards the camera.
ELK
(oblivious of everything else): War is the cleanser of the world!
What more beautiful sight than this?
Fry
backs away in horror from the impending holocaust, and Zapp's
helicopter lands behind him, rather unsteadily. The door is swung
open.
ZAPP
(from inside, indistinctly): Fry! Come in here!
Cue
slow, sad music. Shot from inside the helicopter of Fry, outlined
against the flames, turning his head around, then making up his mind
and stepping into the shadows.
FRY
(holding out his hands): I come quietly.
Cut
to inside the helicopter, where some hippies have knocked Kif out and
are burning the tied-up Zapp on the chest with joints.
ZAPP
(to his tormentors): You heard him. Now LET GO OF ME!
Shot
of the helicopter taking off. Fade out.
Fade
in to show Fry, looking quite miserable, sitting on a bench in what
is obviously a locker room. To judge from the view through the
windows, it belongs to the Madison Cube Gardens. Fry has metal
manacles around his wrists and ankles, and is watched by two robot
guards. His friends, trying to control their emotion, are saying
goodbye to him.
HERMES
(upbeat): Don't you worry! I've secured a place for you at the
hospital. (sotto voce) Or, as the case may be, the mortuary.
LEELA
(hiding her eyes): Be strong, Fry.
SFX:
doors opening. The TortureMecha, in full regalia, enters, looking
quite happy.
AMY
(barricading the way): Keep your drills off Fry, you crook-wielding
crook!
The
robots grab her and pull her out of the way.
TM
(unrolling an automatic scroll): May all of ye who wish to renounce
your evil ways...
FRY
(trying to lift a hand): Me!
TM
(spinning around slowly, glowering): *Anyone else*?
Bender,
apparently turned on, short-circuits and slumps to the floor.
TM
(shrugging, to the guardbots): Then let us continue AI's work. Bring
him to the arena!
The
robots hoist Fry up and stick him on a fridge door (the manacles are
magnetic), then carry it out. Cue disturbingly upbeat music. Cut to
Fry's POV as he is blinded by the sunlight in the arena. SFX:
shouting, then hush.
TM
(appearing in front of him): Any last words, you heretic meatbag?
FRY
(sotto voce, struggling): The... Capricorn... moves!
TM:
So be it.
Zoom
into the clear blue sky. Fade out.
Shot
of Fry's face, obviously suffering. Slow zoom out. SFX: denting.
FRY
(panicky): No. No! Get it off! Oh God, not the pneumatic drill!
Zoom
out, showing that he is still sticking to the fridge, but nothing is
being done to him. He starts crying and seems to be trying to look
away.
FRY
(sobbing): Don't hurt her anymore! Take me instead!
Cue
melancholy music. Cut to the TortureMecha, who is vigorously denting
the wreck of the Ditzy with various tools. Cut to the bleachers where
his friends are watching, with some interest.
FARNSWORTH:
Psychological torture! Why didn't *I* think of that!
BENDER
(terrified): Why are the cute, sadistic ones always insane?
Slow-mo
shot of Fry's face as a tear runs down it. Music goes very sad.
FRY
(VO, wistful): All that I longed for... all that I can never have
back...
Close
up of the back of the car. The brand says "Cadillac Ditsu:
Capricorn", and a bumper sticker shows a 20th-century
skyline with the legend: "Greetings from the City of the
Ancients". Zoom out as the car bursts into flame. The silhouette
of the TortureMecha is seen outlined against the fire, doing the Sign
of Robot. Fade out.
Fade
in to show Fry wearing a T-shirt saying: "I was dented by the
TortureMecha". Zoom out as he walks out of the arena with his
friends. He is still looking sad, but yet relieved. Leela and Amy are
supporting him.
LEELA:
Feeling better, Fry? (nicely) Tell you what, tomorrow we'll come and
help you look for the City of the Ancients. It's bound to be
*some*where.
AMY
(happily): We can go carflying!
They
walk down the street. In the background are seen the TortureMecha,
kneeling and demure, being presented with an automatic scroll by some
robots (including the RoboPreacher and one of the Robot Elders from
the episode "One Robot's World"), then being stripped of
her mitre and stole.
FRY
(thoughtfully): No... you don't have to. I have learnt something
these last few weeks. You can never go back... and even if you can,
it turns out the past wasn't as rose-tinted as it seemed back then.
It was all pretty nasty, brutish and...
He
stops for a moment. Cue faintly sentimental music. A flower is lying
on the pavement, and he picks it up, smells it, then starts chewing
it.
FRY
(eyes glazing over): ... as a wise man in my century said once:
"Objects in the windscreen wiper may appear closer than they
are."
BENDER:
What the?
Fade
to black. Stark white caption appears saying: 3000 YEARS LATER. Pan
around an almost dead world, with the ruins of New New York in the
background. The sky is sulphurous and deadly-looking, but the forest
still remains, albeit filled with mutated, weird-looking trees. A
dark young woman, wearing clothes of the AD 3000 fashion, walks along
the road, distraught. A broken-down hover car is seen behind her
(with the same sticker on).
GIRL
(despondently): I have nowhere to go! I should never have defrosted!
The only hope for me now lies in...
Close
up of her face as it is outlined against the trees and the huts. Cue
music (same as in the similar scene with Fry).
GIRL
(hopeful): The City of the Ancients!
She
rushes into the clearing, where a number of hippies are seated around
a strange, white fire. They look pretty much like all hippies
everywhere, though.
HIPPIE
LEADER: Welcome to our commune, man! I'm Bloodstone, and this is
Chickenwire... Souldrain... Cheney...
GIRL
(sitting down, grateful): Will you let me stay, please?
BLOODSTONE:
Oh yes. Stay forever.
CHICKENWIRE
(excitably): For we are Mother Nature's children, man!
CHENEY:
The Age of Scorpio!
CHICKENWIRE
(polishing a sacrificial dagger): We must make you part of the
mandala, one great groovy continuum. We must absorb your soul into
ours.
ALL:
SCORPIO SHALL RISE!
Fade
to black. Cue music: "The Age of Aquarius". Roll credits.
The
End.
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