TITLE: ACT 1
TITLE: AD 2125

A hunched over vagabond scours the remains of the once great city of Nueva York. SIMEON's eyes are slightly glazed over and he seems to walk aimlessly in search of someone,
sometimes just anyone. His age can be anything from 25 to
50, his raggedness and clothing hiding any real hints of his
age. In his hand he has a vial with a glowing liquid that he
sips slyly like one would sip a forbidden flask of whiskey
or bourbon.

MEDIUM:GLOWING VIAL OF METAL INK IN SIMEON'S HAND.

MEDIUM: FOOT STEPPING FORWARD ON THE SIDEWALK AGAINST DARK BACKGROUND.

EXTREME CLOSE UP: SIMEON'S LIPS BRINGING LIQUID TO HIS LIPS.

WIDE:GLOWING LIQUID GOING DOWN A REPRESENTATION OF HIS INTESTINES.

The liquid unnaturally energizes him, and his aimless
humming becomes a whistle, then a song.

EXTREME CLOSE UP:PUPILS OF HIS EYES CHANGING FROM

HALF-ASLEEP TO CLEARLY TWEAKED UP.

SIMEON
Metal Ink (Simeon whistles the
melody) Take a swig of Metal Ink,
that's the stuff for drinking. Half
oil, half charity, half who knows
what? But that's what we're
drinking. To stay alive, no,
survive! Delicious tweaking
metalness. Trickling down my rusted
pipes, organic decaying to so much
less.

He ignores the shadowy figures around him and waves
nervously at the MILITARY POLICE OFFICERS he passes along the way. The MILITARY POLICE OFFICERS recognize and acknowledge him, watching him as he passes, only
half-heartedly interested in where SIMEON is going.
SIMEON's euphoria temporarily disappears as he passes the
officers and continues down the street. His eyes look far
away.

SIMEON
But have you seen my sweet Lucinde?
Red hair, or was it brown? Hell if I
can remember it now. Just so high,
high as the sky turned red as blood.
Can I touch your silken face again,
sweet innocent one?

SIMEON pulls out a doll from his coat and holds it up in the
air. The doll looks like a ragged Statue of Liberty doll,
slightly burned.

CLOSE UP:SIMEON'S HAND GRASPS HALF-BURNT DOLL.

SIMEON
I found your broken doll, underneath
our crumpled wall on that horrific
Tuesday morning. That forgotten
mourning.

SIMEON slows and pauses. Notices a cat (or dog) listening
nearby. Brightens up and begins the joyful singing and
euphoria from before.

WIDE:GLOWING EYES IN THE ALLEY, A DOG OR CAT?
MEDIUM:SIMEON BRIGHTENS UP AFTER LOOKING AT
DOG/CAT IN THE ALLEY.

SIMEON
Morning to you, dearest friend? Or
is it afternoon instead? Want some
Ink? (seems to offer drink to the
animal in the alley). What do you
think? I'm just having a drink, a
swig, a taste of life again! (holds
out note as he lifts up the
vial)Down the throat and into the
soul!

CLOSE UP:SIMEON'S HOLDS UP VIAL IN FRONT OF HIS FACE.

EXTREME CLOSE UP:LIQUID FALLING INTO HIS THROAT.
QUICK FADE TO BLACK