INT. SOMEWHERE – SOME TIME
KEVIN (young, looking hassled) sits across the table from CLIVE (older, but not by much. Taller only through optical illusion) in a blank space. A single door stands in its frame, connected to nothing. A ROOMBA hovers around them. The ROOMBA rams into KEVIN’S foot and emits a loud beep.
KEVIN
(Flatly)
Again.
CLIVE
Yep.
Both pause. KEVIN trails the ROOMBA with his eyes.
KEVIN
I’m bored.
CLIVE
That’s nothing new… Be proactive! Try entertaining yourself.
The ROOMBA hits an unseen wall and turns around. CLIVE takes a long sip from an eccentric mug emblazoned with “#1 MOM.” KEVIN coughs once, loudly.
CLIVE
See? Entertaining.
KEVIN
(Sighing dramatically)
This is a nightmare… What are we doing here?
CLIVE
Suffering, mostly.
KEVIN
When can we leave?
CLIVE
Depends
KEVIN
Oh yeah. On what?
CLIVE
The Roomba.
KEVIN looks at CLIVE expectantly. CLIVE smiles at the ROOMBA as it bumps into the leg of his chair. CLIVE taps the ROOMBA on the hood and gently sets the mug on top, watching it leave.
CLIVE
We can leave whenever you want.
KEVIN
But you said –
CLIVE
Whenever we’d like.
KEVIN
(Flatly)
You are a millions of textbooks and a sandwich … So dramatic.
KEVIN sinks back into his seat while CLIVE reclines, looks up, and smiles contentedly. The ROOMBA stops whirring. KEVIN stares at it, defeated.
KEVIN
What. Is that. Supposed. To mean?
CLIVE approaches the ROOMBA, inspects it, pulls out its dirt trap, and puts the dirt trap back in, picks up his mug and presses the power button. The ROOMBA powers up and continues to whirr.
CLIVE
Easy peasy lemon squeezy.
KEVIN
What?
CLIVE sets his mug on the table and stretches like a cat’s favourite yoga instructor. KEVIN watches, disinterested.
KEVIN
How long d’you reckon it’ll take?
CLIVE
Just a bit.
KEVIN
Another hour?
CLIVE
Sure.
KEVIN
(exasperated)
It’s only been going for the last decade!
CLIVE
Yep.
KEVIN
It doesn’t seem to be working.
CLIVE
(In a downward dog pose)
Oh yeah?
KEVIN
Floor’s still dirty.
KEVIN gets up and walks around, examining the floor, and sits back down.
KEVIN
(Sighing like a big bored dog)
What’s the point.
CLIVE
We’ll find out.
KEVIN
When’s that?
CLIVE
(Pointing at the ROOMBA)
When it’s done.
KEVIN
It’s not fulfilling its vacuuming purpose… Not doing anything.
CLIVE
Not a thing.
KEVIN
Can’t we replace it?
CLIVE
What with?
KEVIN
Anything … Hell, we could clean the floor ourselves.
CLIVE
Why…? Are you in a hurry?
KEVIN says nothing but nods, imperceptible to CLIVE, who is in a warrior 2 pose with his eyes closed.
CLIVE (CONT’D)
Yep, thought so.
KEVIN
Not really. But still. […]. Shouldn’t we try?
CLIVE
(Sitting down with his legs crossed)
Why bother?
KEVIN
I’ll go get a broom.
CLIVE
Sure.
Image Source: Catherine Lanctot
KEVIN looks around wildly, walks up to the door, and tries the handle. CLIVE puts on a pair of extravagant pink bedazzled Elton sunglasses that he pulls from his cup. KEVIN comes back to the center of the room with a roll of duct tape and frantically tapes his legs to the floor.
KEVIN
I hate this, you know.
CLIVE
I know.
KEVIN
I hate you.
CLIVE
Of course.
The tape tears loudly, KEVIN glares at CLIVE who smiles and stares upwards.
KEVIN
(fully focused on the tape, disinterested)
What the hell are you so happy about?
CLIVE
That cloud looks like a cat! […] or maybe more like a CAT PM310 tier 4 stage 5 cold planer.
KEVIN
(still taping himself down)
You’re a crazy old bat.
CLIVE
Well, I’m not the pinnacle of human evolution.
KEVIN
Okay, so evolution was a mistake. I’m going back to the water.
CLIVE
(In a British falsetto, somewhat like McGonagall)
Quoting Ophelia, are we?
KEVIN
Why are you keeping me here?! What did I do to you?!
CLIVE stays silent.
KEVIN (CONT’D)
Hey! I’m talking to you!
KEVIN struggles against the tape with his one free hand while muttering unsavory words under his breath. The ROOMBA beeps. KEVIN does not notice. The ROOMBA beeps again, louder, and prods at KEVIN’S taped shin. KEVIN glances down, rips off the knife taped to the ROOMBA and cuts himself free. Tangled in the tape, KEVIN storms out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him. CLIVE smiles. The ROOMBA follows KEVIN out, driving around the shut door frame.
CUT TO:
INT. SOME NEW PLACE – VISIBLY A BIT LATER
KEVIN sits at a table, triumphantly observing the various empty plates, clean cutlery, and empty cups in front of him. CLIVE walks in, stepping over a toolbox left behind among the various construction supplies. A single sign above the table reads “DINER”
KEVIN
Ah, you must be here with my order!
CLIVE
No, I am Clive.
KEVIN
Finally caught up then, old man?
CLIVE
I was not in a hurry.
KEVIN beams and dangles his feet like a triumphant school boy as CLIVE sets down his same old mug on the table between two plates. The ROOMBA greets him with a series of confused beeps as it tries to climb over a thin chunk of plywood.
KEVIN
Well, I’m here now. Just waiting for my order!
CLIVE
Spectacular. Did you pass the little river on your way? The flotilla of ducks is absolutely serene.
KEVIN rolls his eyes. Silence passes between them as the ROOMBA vanquishes the wrench and approaches CLIVE.
CLIVE (CONT’D)
(leaning over)
Oh yes, please, I will have the salmon with some mashed potatoes, I hear they’re fantastic here.
KEVIN raises an eyebrow as the ROOMBA beeps excitedly and rushes off.
CLIVE (CONT’D)
You have to know what you want before you can have it.
KEVIN
Yeah?
CLIVE
Yeah.
KEVIN
Well, I put my order in already, so it should be here any second.
CLIVE
You want to see a picture?
KEVIN
Of what?
CLIVE
The ducks.
KEVIN
No no, I’m too hungry to look at ducks.
CLIVE
(chewing his salmon)
If you insist.
KEVIN
They were quick with your order, weren’t they?… Sexists.
CLIVE
We’re the same genre.
A moment passes, CLIVE finishes his bite, reaches into his pocket for a framed photo of the aforementioned ducks, and sets it on the table.
Image Source: Catherine Lanctot
CLIVE (CONT’D)
Here, look.
KEVIN
When did you have time to frame that?
CLIVE
I made it. Obviously.
A beep emanates from beneath the table. The ROOMBA stands triumphant, a single cherry tomato in a silver spoon balancing on its exterior shell.
CLIVE
I reckon that’s yours.
KEVIN looks displeased, but picks up the spoon with the tomato and sets it down in front of it. The face is engraved with “Mr. Kelvin.”
KEVIN
They got my name wrong. This can’t be mine.
CLIVE
Do you want it?
KEVIN eyeballs the spoon. He does and he doesn’t. He places the tomato on an empty saucer. It rolls in a tight circle and stops, posing.
KEVIN
What if I don’t want salmon? Or tomatoes? Or ducks?
CLIVE
Then you’re finally hungry.
KEVIN leans back in his chair, staring upwards. It’s not blank – now there’s a single balloon caught in the corner, defying gravity in the wrong direction.
KEVIN
Hey, would you look at that…
CLIVE looks up and smiles, nodding to himself.
KEVIN (CONT’D)
…I want dessert.
The ROOMBA spins thrice in a tight circle and darts off with unnecessary urgency.
CLIVE
(raising his mug)
To dessert, then.
KEVIN
What do you think it’ll get?
CLIVE
What you ask for.
A long pause. ROOMBA whirrs off-screen.
KEVIN
God, I hope it’s flan.
Image Source: Catherine Lanctot
CUT TO:
EXT./INT. KELVIN’S DINER – LATER.
KEVIN and CLIVE hold hands as they pause to observe the brand new signage reading “KELVIN’S DINER.” It is dark out, but the sign glows fiercely.
CLIVE
Hey, that cloud looks like a lily.
KEVIN
I guess you’ve never seen a lily. It’s clearly the shape of a horse.
After a quick nod and smile at each other, the pair heads in, KEVIN holds the door open for CLIVE, they sit at a familiar booth. A single overhead light illuminates CLIVE’S #1 Mom mug.
KEVIN
(pointing at a pair of patrons behind a table in a corner)
I wonder if those two are friends.
CLIVE
Perhaps enemies, you never know.
KEVIN
Or perhaps lovers?
CLIVE
Oh, you optimistic princess.
CLIVE reclines into the booth cushion. KEVIN looks out the window, where a swarm of various nighttime insects are searching for light. CLIVE reaches up and pulls the string, turning off the light. The bugs disperse.
CLIVE
Goodnight, light.
KEVIN
Imagine being so small, your brain cannot even begin to process the vastness of the world you’ve been created into. So tiny, in fact, that all you will ever know are the few inches that surround you. You take flight, and already a quarter of your life is wasted, just like that —
KEVIN snaps his fingers passionately. CLIVE nods and yawns. The patrons in the corner lean in closer.
KEVIN (CONT’D)
(scooting closer to the window)
You search, unsure of what exactly, and yet, somehow, you find it. That something you were searching for. A drop of water, or a crumb tumbling from far above where you haven’t dared to fly just yet. Where large shadows roam through the ever-present comfort of the warm glow above.
(pressing his cheek against the window)
Life goes on, you search and you find. You are warm. You are not too cautious, and not too adventurous, not enough to pay a price for it anyway… Imagine that…
The patrons in the corner lean in for a kiss, the ROOMBA beeps excitedly underneath them.
KEVIN (CONT’D)
Your life is halfway done. And you’ve lived well. At least you think so. But trouble is around each corner. The warmth you’re so accustomed to is fading, the glow slowly replaced by pink and orange hues until even those darken to nothing… The world is a scary place… And what you so desperately sought seems less relevant now than the absence of a lifetime constant. That warm glow is gone.
CLIVE
(yawning)
Good light night…
KEVIN
Good night light! Then again, perhaps not all is lost! As you lose all hope and prepare for your end, a new glow appears, followed by more and more. Yet these are not the same you’re used to. These are smaller and weaker, the warmth more distant now.
KEVIN (CONT’D)
(whispering)
You brace yourself, you know the drill. Seeking was never as easy as it is now. Just follow the glow, find the warmth. It’s just there, just within reach, and if not, there are others exploding into view; not in that gentle way the old glow faded, but it’s there, the warmth. It’s getting closer. You’re getting closer.
CLIVE is sleeping now, his eyes closed, mouth slightly agape. The ROOMBA approaches with a flan on its shiny back, leaving a clean streak on the floor.
KEVIN (CONT’D)
You’re interrupted. Or perhaps this is it? There is no warmth, only the promise of it. The misleading light. It takes up your field of vision, invades it like a temptress in the home of a playboy. There is no reward. There must be more, you think to yourself. Light means warmth; you’ve always known this. It is a universal fact. If only you could get to it, get closer.
The ROOMBA runs into the foot of a chair, beeps angrily, and continues its trek.
KEVIN (CONT’D)
Over and over you face light, and over and over you stumble. You are ready to accept your fate now, you think, settling to watch the light until death do you lovebirds part. A gust of wind, that’s all it takes. The obstacle is gone. And you know this intuitively, not because the path is clear — even before it was clear — but because of the warmth. That comforting friend. And there you were, accusing the light of misleading you.
The ROOMBA arrives, KEVIN pats it like a friend, gently setting his flan on the table before him. He looks over at CLIVE.
KEVIN (CONT’D)
You approach, ready to greet the light as an old friend. Yet the warmth, too, betrays. Something is wrong, you think, as what embraces you in its place is heat.
KEVIN reaches for CLIVE’S mug and takes a long sip. He raises the mug in a toast.
KEVIN (CONT’D)
Good thing we’re not flies.
CUT TO: BLACK
Featured Image Source: Yulia Gulyaeva
