BakkUp – Selected Scenes.
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…is a
four part TV mini-series which is currently undergoing proofing and revision
before being submitted to the relevant companies. The following scenes come from early
episodes and should give you a sense of the feel of the piece without giving
too much away. The Peters' Mansion. The
room is dominated by a three piece suite in silver. It is tastefully up-lit, with minimal
decoration, and glass topped tables.
It is futuristic, but not in a kitch Barbarella way. Again, we are reminded that this is a
family of such wealth that they see no need for vulgar displays. Mrs Peters is sitting with her back to us,
watching the screen which we can now see is set into the wall. As the next advert begins, the doorbell sounds - a single soft
tone - and the words Entry Req. flash at the centre bottom of the
screen. Mrs Peters stands, takes a
deep breath, and exits to the hallway.
The screen continues to the next Ad.
We are in a graveyard, immaculate and ordered. Simple white headstones stretch as far as
the eye can see on a perfect green field.
In the foreground stands Dr Bakk in a black suit, again immaculately
presented. He looks straight at us out
of the screen and smiles. Dr Bakk: Strange though it seems to us now, to our
ancestors this landscape was a place of finality. A place of loss. A place where we could come to terms with
an end - our own end. I'm Dr Edwin
Bakk, and thanks to my technology, these places, these Graven Yards, have
been forever confined to the past. He flicks his fingers.
The grave stones shoot upwards, metamorphosising into the many
magnificent pillars of the entrance hall of the Bakk Centre for Care and
Resurrection. It is a cross between a
hospital and a place of worship. Dr Bakk: This is the Bakk Centre for Care and
Resurrection, but you probably know it as the BakkUp Centre. Here, amid the chaos of our modern age, we
have created a place of hope. A place
of - Mrs Peters re-enters the room, followed by Dr Bakk, and Mr
Peters, the man we saw die in scene one.
He looks a lot better now; more healthy, less dead. He looks around him as he enters the room. Mrs Peters: Screen fade. The television obligingly cross-fades, becoming an
aquarium. Beautiful fish swim slowly
and gracefully on the screen. There is
no sound. Mr Peters: You've re-designed. Mrs Peters: You always say that. Mr Peters: I do? Mrs Peters: Yes, darling. Mr Peters: I don't like it. Mrs Peters: You always say that, too, and then it grows
on you. Mr Peters: How old are you? Mrs Peters: Fifty three. Mr Peters: You don't look a day over forty. No, thirty. Mrs Peters: That's another thing you always say. Tea, Dr Bakk? Dr Bakk: No thank you, unless it's.... Mrs Peters: Of course it is. Dr Bakk: Oh well, in that case... Mrs Peters: I'll fetch it. Mr Peters: What happened to the M.D.? Mrs Peters: It... it died. I decided not to replace it. Dr Bakk: How very authentic. Mrs Peters: I like to do the odd thing. Mr Peters: Where's Mrs Peters: At the learning centre. She'll be back at half-seventeen. Dr Bakk: How is she taking it? Mrs Peters: She's fine.
This time. Dr Bakk: I'm glad to hear that. Mr Peters: I can't wait to see her. Mrs Peters: She's all grown up now. You could pass her on the walkways and not
know her. Mr Peters: Is she...? Mrs Peters: Very beautiful, darling. Mr Peters: Anything else I should know? Mrs Peters: I'll get the tea. Excuse me, Doctor. She exits. Mr Peters: When did she stop liking you? Dr Bakk: Somewhere around the forth or fifth time. Mr Peters: Fourth or fifth? How many times have I stopped? Dr Bakk: This is your thirteenth. Mr Peters: Thirteen?!? Dr Bakk: Yes. Mr Peters: (thinking to himself)
Thirteen times. In ten years? Dr Bakk: Eleven. Mr Peters: Well, that explains it. Dr Bakk: Explains what? Mr Peters: Simone.
She looks, I don't know, more... jaded than I remember. Dr Bakk: She's strong. But these things take their toll, even in
the strongest hearts. Mr Peters: And your prognosis this time? Dr Bakk: Perhaps we should wait for Mrs Peters. Mr Peters: Yes.
Yes. Of course. They sit in silence. Mr Peters: Tell me, does James James still do that
late night talk show? Dr Bakk: I'm afraid not. He acts now. In dramas. Mr Peters: Oh.
Pity. I saw it live once. Twenty years (correcting himself) thirty years ago. Dr Bakk: He's really very good. In the dramas. Mr Peters: I'm sure he would be. All the same though. I like that show. I suppose things change. Dr Bakk: Yes.
The future never stops coming, Mr Peters. Mr Peters: You look exactly the same. How do you do it? You haven't aged a day. Dr Bakk: I'm a very successful man. And medicine also marches forwards. Mr Peters: But not enough to...? Dr Bakk: Like I say, we should wait for Mrs Peters. Enter Mrs Peters carrying a tray with three mint teas in
improbably small glasses. She passes
one to her husband and one to Dr Bakk.
She places the tray on the table and arranges herself on one of the
chairs. Dr Bakk picks up his glass and
smells the tea. His eyes close in joy. Dr Bakk: Real mint.
How ever did you get it? Mrs Peters: You're not the only one here with friends in
high places. Mr Peters: Shall we begin? Dr Bakk: If Mrs Peters is ready? Mrs Peters: Of course.
Why not? Dr Bakk: As you are aware Mr Peters you have
finished thirteen times in the last eleven years. On each occasion we have restarted you at
this point, as requested by your pre-documentation. Each time, we have attempted different
treatments for your... problem. Each
of them has failed to realise the desired result. Mr Peters: What's worked best? Dr Bakk: Well, we have had a number of different
periods of optimism. In fact, Dr Munir
and I are confident that a new therapy from the mainland, a combination of
Crystore technology and the application of electro-neuron stimulation may
lengthen your present version's applicability until - Mrs Peters: It won't work Simon. It won't work. It'll cost a fortune. It won't work. You'll suffer and then you'll die and then
- Dr Bakk: Come come Mrs Peters. Dr Munir and I have every - Mrs Peters: Don't ever interrupt me Dr Bakk. You lost the right to do that a good many
years ago and I shall not be re-instating it.
Need I say more? Dr Bakk: No.
Not at all. Please, accept my
apologies. Mrs Peters: Good.
Then perhaps I may be permitted to speak to the core of the
matter. She
pauses, collects her thoughts; this is going to be difficult for her to say. Mrs Peters: Simon.
Simon, my dear dear Simon. I
just... I can't keep doing this. I
can't keep watching you die. Dr Bakk: We prefer the term finish. To die implies an ending. And as we can clearly see, Mr Peters is by
no means at an end. He has not
experienced (grimacing at the word) death. Mrs Peters: But I have.
I've seen you die twelve times Simon.
And I just... I don't think I can do it any more. Mr Peters: What's brought this on? Simone? Mrs Peters: I went walking yesterday. In one of the Nature Parks. And I walked for hours, through each of the
Seasons. And do you know what I saw? Death.
Death and rebirth. A
cycle. This plant dies and it becomes
the fertile ground for the next. And
nature doesn't re-boot. Nature doesn't
use Bakkups. It... it accepts. It continues. Like we used to. Mr Peters: So what are you suggesting? Mrs Peters: I'm suggesting. Oh God, I'm sorry Simon, I'm suggesting
that we let nature take it course. No
more re-boots. No more getting stuck
here, repeating the same miserable eight months again and again and again. Dr Bakk: Excuse me Mrs Peters, but are you
suggesting what I think you may be?
Because if you are, I have to warn you that the Bakk Centre will
not... cannot sanction the permanent cessation of life. Mrs Peters: I'm not asking you to kill him Dr
Bakk. And I would love it if you could
help him live. But the current
situation is... it's unacceptable to me. Dr Bakk: Perhaps you should look at other
arrangements. Perhaps it is possible
for you to move on with your own life without condemning your husband to - Mr Peters: No.
I won't divorce from Simone. Mrs Peters: And I won't leave him. Not after this long. I have a daughter to consider. Dr Bakk: (Outraged)
Indeed you do. And how will she feel
when her mother denies her a father? Mrs Peters: She has no father already. She has had no father for eleven
years. Since she was eight all she has
had is a man who repeatedly demonstrates the frailty of life. Is that what you want for Charlotte, Simon? Mr Peters: No, of course not. Dr Bakk: But this is so... final. Mrs Peters: Yes.
Isn't it. Dr Bakk: Mrs Peters... Mr Peters... Simon. I implore you to think. There must be another method, another
solution. I cannot accept that this is
the only way. Mrs Peters: Then you had better come up with something
quickly Dr Bakk. Because my mind is
made up. And I believe, given time, my
husband will come to agree with me. He
loves me, you see? Not that I expect
you to understand that. Now, if you
have nothing new to add to this situation, I suggest you leave. Mr Peters: One moment Doctor. Tell me - and I want the truth - what are
the chances of me living until, say, a year from now? Dr Bakk: (blustering)
Well, of course, that depends upon a number of factors... Mr Peters: The truth, Doctor. I pay you sufficiently well that you can
provide me with that. A pause. Dr Bakk: Based on all previous experience, and
assuming that there are no new medical breakthroughs - which is a dangerous
assumption in today's progressive climate - but assuming all of this. Your chances are... are as close to zero as
makes no difference. Mr Peters: Thank you Doctor. I appreciate your candour. Mrs Peters: Leave us now. Dr Bakk: I shall visit again on Friday. Perhaps by then you will have changed your
mind. Mr Peters: Perhaps. Dr Bakk: I hope so.
Sincerely, I do. Mrs Peters: (cynically)
Oh yes, you're very sincere. Dr Bakk: I'll see myself out. He leaves. Mr Peters: That seemed unnecessarily cruel. Mrs Peters: I'm sure it did. To you. A pause. Mr Peters: Is it really that bad? Mrs Peters: How many times could you watch me die? Mr Peters: I don't know. I just... I don't know. Mrs Peters: I love you, Simon. I always have. Another pause. Mr Peters: You know, this re-design is starting to
grow on me. Blackout. An advert. We are in a
room whose walls are a rotating kaleidoscope of colour and pattern. Enter James James in a smart black
suit. He talks to camera, removing
props from his inside breast pocket as necessary. James: Just like everyone else, I like my party
time enhanced. Now we all know that if
you're going on the town you should always go UpTown, but those boffins at
HighLabs don't like to rest on their laurels, so that's why I, James James,
in conjunction with Enhancement Technologies - the better buzz - want to show
you these... He removes two heart shaped pink pills from his pocket and
shows them to the camera. James: These are LoveTowns, and they only ever
come in pairs. Just like you will. He winks at the camera. James: Here's how it works. The two pills each contain UpTown,
LongLove, and BetterTouch in pleasing combinations, so, as you can imagine,
they're tailor made for a romantic night.
But, as we all know guys, sometimes it doesn't go that way... even for
a solar star like me. He puts the pills in his outer pocket and pats the pocket. James: Not any more though. You and your date drop one each at the
start of the night. The pills are DNA
coded to only want each other. As you
sweat, the chemicals sense each other and trigger neurons that make you
desire each other more and more. Eight
hours after you drop these babies not even the security forces will keep you
apart. But that's not all. When you do finally retire somewhere
private, the same randy little chemicals prolong the action until they have
fully blended - usually a couple of hours - and then release you both into
full multiple orgasm simultaneously.
Finally, a light mix of EasyDown and PillowMind ensures you get a
restful sleep and wake up fully refreshed.
So remember: LoveTowns. Always
come in pairs. The company logo appears.
A completely different voice starts speaking quickly. Voice Over: Available at all respectable chemists. Remember: No CryStore, no credit. Finn's flat. Finn and
Char sit wrapped around each other on a comfy sofa, Fran is at their feet,
lounged on the floor, blissed out.
Finn passes her what looks like a souped-up athsma inhaler and she
takes a hit. Her head rolls back as
she exhales. There is no smoke. She starts to laugh. Finn: Yeah? Fran: Oh yeah. Finn: Babe? Finn: You always have guests. Wipe it babe. Fran: Yeah, wipe it. Fran: You are so not today. Fran: Wipe it. Finn: So bring him here. Finn: Hey!
The porn's not for me babe. Fran: Oh yeah Finn, that's right, you just sell
it, don't you darling? Finn: (cold, to Fran) That's right. I don't need any sick shit to get me going,
right babe? Char and Fran both start laughing. Finn has no choice but to join in. Finn: Well, if you're going I'm gonna get some
work done. I'm not staying in with
this wasted slut, I got better things to do. Fran: You wish. Finn: Get your skinny body off my floor and out
my door. Fran: You know you want me. Finn: Baby, I can't afford the shots. Fran: You coming? Fran exits. Char and
Finn kiss passionately, running their hands over each other's bodies. He reaches into his pocket and hands her a
handful of pills. Finn: Uptowns.
In case this guy isn't as bad as you think. Finn: You owe me. Another kiss. Finn: What? Finn: I told you, I don't like to talk about it. Finn: No. Finn: You think a Shoemaker tries on every pair
of shoes that leave the factory? I
watched a couple, once, and it didn't do anything for me. Finn: All sorts of stuff. Finn: You're so interested, take a few. Finn: Yeah, that's what I thought. Besides, you already know more than enough
for a girl of your tender age. Finn: Oh yeah, babe, you know it. They kiss again. He
starts to remove her clothes. She
breaks away. Finn: That's cruel. Exit Char. Blackout. We are watching a charitable appeal advert. Images of the four people described appear
and then draw back into a two by two grid. Voice Over: Nigel is 34. He's meek, humble, and unimpressive. Sue is in her early twenties and, as you
can see, is fat. Derek has a stammer
and is poor. And Gina? Gina is plain ugly. None of these people has experienced
intercourse in years, and it's unlikely that they ever will again. Unless YOU help. The logo for the appeal spins in. It is, of course, all pink and throbbing. Voice Over: This Friday is Sexual Compassion Day. It's your chance to give a little
back. It will cost you nothing to have
intercourse with any of the needy and yet to these poor sad people it really
can make all the difference. Just
listen to Harry, who was one of last year's many recipients. Harry is silhouetted to save his identity. He speaks with the manner of the ex-junkie. Harry: Yeah, well, you know, I'd sort of given up
on ever getting brained again. I
wasn't much to look at, well, I wasn't much of anything really. So anyway, I went to the local Charity Dome
and, you know, put my name down. And
within about twenty minutes this beautiful girl comes up to me, introduces
herself, and, you know, takes me into one of the booths. It was one of the best days of my
life. The next morning I felt so
confident I applied for three work-positions.
Okay, so I didn't get them, but you get the idea. I was a changed man. I haven't seen her since of course, but I'm
always looking. Turns out she gave me
a false name - I checked all that when I was trying to find out where she
lived. One day, though... I'm gonna
find her. And then I'm gonna... I'm
gonna thank her. She's given me a
purpose. I don't think about how
useless I am any more. I don't think
about how boring my life is. I just
think about her. We are back at the four-shot of our charity cases. Voice Over: So you see, giving really can make a
difference. Harry has a reason for
living now. Wouldn't you like to help
a Harry? Well this Friday, at any
Charity Dome, you can. Please... give
a little of yourself to make the world a happier place. An ident plays. Our four
subjects all smile at the camera. The
words It costs nothing and means everything grin out from the image. Fade out. The Simon: Nice tree. Jean-Paul: They used to be everywhere. Simon: So I've heard. I didn't take you for a nature nut. Jean-Paul: Life is life. Simon: Is that right? Jean-Paul: You're in a bad mood. Simon: Oh, its just... oh, you know, I can be a
real jerk sometimes. Jean-Paul: We all can. Simon: Yeah, but I've got this thing about pissing
in my own bed that just won't let up. Jean-Paul: It obviously does. Simon: Why do you all think I'm going to end up
like him? Jean-Paul: Well, two of us are qualified doctors, and
the other two live in denial. Simon: You're a doctor? Jean-Paul: Of course. Simon: Oh.
It's just. Well, I thought you
must be a nurse or something. Dr
Bakk's lackey. No offence. Jean-Paul: None taken.
And you're right. About me
being a lackey. But I'm a fully
qualified Doctor lackey. Simon: Still, how do you deal with it. Jean-Paul: The Bakk clinic is one of the leading
medical institutions in the whole system.
And I grew up here, near it. Dr
Bakk may lack subtlety but he's a brilliant man. And the clientele of the Bakk centre are
some of the most powerful and influential people I could ever hope to
meet. Anyway, I'm young. I have time. And I want to learn. Simon: Why is everyone here so keen on
learning? Why don't you just download
it into your CryStore and have done with it? Jean-Paul: Close your eyes and touch the branch of the
tree. Simon: (after a moment) Okay. He reaches out his right hand and places it against the
tree. Then, he closes his eyes. Jean-Paul: What can you feel? Simon: The tree? Jean-Paul: Is it warm?
Cold? Rough? Moving? Simon: Well, it's - Jean-Paul: Ssssh.
Don't tell me. Just take it in
for a moment. A long silence. Simon: Okay. |
