I want it, but…what it is called? The word is…. (pause) I seem to think it was “bread”. Yeah, that’s right. “Bread”. (pause) The other part. The sweet part, the part that made it, well, kind of, worthwhile… What was that? Was it mar…marmel..marg…but – ter? (pause) Or was it jam? (pause). No I remember now! It was bread… and but – ter… and jam! (long pause). So long ago now. Before …Before the isolations and before TNA. Before…

My grandmother had a… what would you call it? An organic habitat. We called it : gar – den. A few people still had gar – den in those days. She had trees in it with... with... organic matter – from somewhere foreign. The bells of St Clemens. (beat – she’s confused) She made the jam herself. No computer – Can you imagine? She actually collected the components herself and made… made…

I remember the protests when the...when the TNA... One right outside. I was alive for all of it you know. The monitoring. Forcible separations. Isolations. You could barely sleep those days, but for the sound of their dogs barking, up and down the hallways. They were right of course – the only way to protect us from suffering was to divide us up. Prevent us talking to each other. Prevent us from misunderstanding, from hurting…protect me from…from…

They divided Frank and I up, you know.

Frank. The system called him (ID Apple Beta 1 1 7 slash 0 2 T - Humanoid : Francis Jonah Pezzetti), but he was Frank. My… Late… Husband. He was a funny little man. Couldn’t understand him half the….Very stubborn; but kind. There was a kindness about him. Difficult to describe…him best. Anymore.

We argued. Didn’t agree with the TNA, with their procedures. See, we was worried about why we hadn’t heard from our Sam in three years. Be patient, I said. (pause) We’d heard rumors, things implied but not explicitly stated. Subtle enough to get beyond the monitoring system. We sent e-mails. Every day. But never a reply. Hunched over the data station waiting. That’s what makes someone truly old, that curvature of the spine you see, it’s spending too long hunched and waiting for someone…to message you. Frank became tired and...wanted to escape the isolation suite to find out what had happened, and we argued. TNA were there with in the hour. Forceful separation. Indefinite.

I received an official transmission after he died. (categorize : deceased ) ( Sub category : coronary systems malfunction ).

I picked up a chair, and threw it out the window. The sound of it…was beautiful. The first music I had heard since isolation. Anyways, I wandered out of the complex and into the quarries. I wanted to…to…(beat) I was waiting for the acid rain, but it never came. I guess the TNA beat the acid rain to it.
(We see the image of the old woman stepping out onto the wastelands, and hear the dogs bark, footsteps, the approach of guards)

I am removed from all of it now and yet I am not senseless. Hunched …still waiting. My intelligence can…sense….but not others. I wait for … transmissions… for termination. I wait and I crave. I crave so much. Frank… Sam… Gar – den. Something else... I crave…what is it called? … I crave… I crave… I crave… (voice trails off)