This is an example of the way in which I would like to develop each script for production.

It gives the reader an idea of the way in which we tend to alter from one medium to another during performance and how this will come together to create a cohesive text.

Please feel free to critique my work, add suggestions or to offer solutions on how to do a similar thing to the other works.

Lenny Chen:

SPACE:

The space is illuminated, it is bright white. It is filled with hundreds of different sized white tubes, all seemingly growing out of the large white screen at the back of the space. There are also a number of different sized white boxes next to the screen.

Mitnick sits on the ground, slightly off centre; she is attempting to plug the tubes into small holes in her costume. This is how she is able to become a 'phantom agent'. Sometimes, there is a slippage in the presentation medium…

PROJECTION:

Image: Mitnick’s body distorting to interchange with that of a male figure. It is not clear if the figure is the person speaking, a politician from the TNA or simply a businessman. The transmission of the image is not clear.

Sound:

The performer’s voice is distorted (using radio microphones) to sound like that of a male. The frequency is shifting slightly and it is unclear. The performer speaks in an American accent.

Executive Members are crap customers. (Pause.) Wouldn’t think so, but shit. You get all the entitlement of a rich client. Along with that tasty government brand of scorched-earth paranoia.

Pause.

Movement:

The tube is pulled out of her costume. Mitnick fumbles around for another tube and places it in the same part of her costume.

LIVE: Movement:

Mitnick performs the actions of a super hero, her fist is shaking.

Sound:

The vocal distortion is becoming clearer, and a distinctive character voice is starting to emerge.

Growing up I thought the big boys were made of marble. Superhuman motherfuckers shat down from the Almighty. But you grow up…gain a few of them as clients…well. Old boys are made of bile and jism just like the rest.

Pause.

Movement:

Mitnick lifts one arm. It appears as though the arm is trying to gesture but is stuck on a repetition throughout.

Nine years I worked in Fantasy Design and Maintenance. Could have gone for a job more dignified. Less interesting. (Pause.) But come on. Who wouldn’t want to design self contained erotic realms? Guys I grew up with are fiddling their lives away with industrial robots. Nine-to-five and home to a pair of cottage cheese thighs. (Pause.) And here I am. Working half the hours. Pulling down wicked commission. Just to…engineer a little realm apart. Where a busy power broker can plug in, tune out, and retreat to a place…tidy. Extrasensory. Where they are the sexual lord and savoir….lord and savoir…lord and savoir…lord and savoir.

Movement:

Mitnick pulls out the tube. There is a moment of stillness.

PROJECTION: Image:

The screen begins to flicker.

Movement:

As this occurs Mitnick’s body jolts.

Sound:

The sound comes first and the image follows.

Jesus I was good. Proper good. Man told me he wanted an opium den. Circa 1870. Full of…preteen Filipino girls.

(Pause.)

Image:

Video of a man who appears to be Lenny Chen appears.

Average hack would just clone the bunch. Regurgitate the same damn girl. Maybe garnish each one with…a different hairstyle.

(Pause.)

Image:

He looks to his hands, we see him working at his screen

Me I took time. Care. To design heart-warming back-story algorithms for each Little Filipino. Wasn’t long before I had more than two hundred fantasy platforms. Humming all night. On call for each client. Each one of them a player. Type of person you only see in pictures.

(Pause.)

Movement:

Mitnick slowly begins to insert the tube back into her costume.

LIVE: Movement:

Down on one knee. Shaking fist.

Sound:

There is no vocal distortion.

I ran a database that could blackmail the most powerful people on earth and I never. Once. Thought— (Long pause.)

Image:

Computer Program of numbers streaming.

Sound:

Slipping into male voice, distortion.

My sister. Should have gone to work. Silicone recycling. With her friends. (Pause.) But the girl did figures like nothing. Thirteen got fast tracked into Revenue Service. Knew how to spot a tax dodge before she knew how to pull a boy. Week on week the kid nailed twice the departmental quota. Like one of those violin prodigies except with…taxes.

Lighting:

A flash of white light as the performer bursts forward.

Thank fuck she never investigated me.

Movement:

Mitnick stands and begins to walk in the space.

Instead. She finds this…guy. On a data trawl. Name of Carl Raine. (Pause.) Son of an Executive Member. Real peach. Trust fund baby revolutionary…splashing around in shallow white guilt…always up for a benefit so long as the drinks are free…you know. (Pause) Little Carl had millions. Untaxed. Stashed in these random fucking accounts. So my sister flags him.

And the department doesn’t respond. Disputes her evidence. But she is who she is so the little…she sends a letter. Straight to the Executive Board.

Next day. Few shy of the kid’s eighteenth. My Mom calls. All panic.

Sound:

Female voice.

“I thought work might know something but the department…They Have No Record of Your Sister’s Employment There. Seventeen years old!”

Sound:

Male Voice

Their top goddamn caseworker, and overnight the kid’s a phantom. Not even disappeared. Just…deleted.

I’m not. Some activist. Jihad fuckhead. But there I was, at work. With this nasty library. Sexual escapades of the upper crust. Including most of the Executive Board. So I think: right.

(Pause.)

Lighting:

The lights begin to flicker, like that of a broken Motel Sign.

Copy the platforms of my Executive Board clients. Clean out my flat. Clean out my Mother’s house. Check both of us into this dodgy damn no-tell motel.

Lighting:

The lights dim on Mitnick.

PROJECTION: Image:

The image is of the flat. There is a female figure sitting on the bed and a male figure at a desk.

My mother…woman was beyond scared. Staring at the wall. Crunching ice cubes. While I send an encrypted message to the Executive Board.

(Pause.)

Image:

Writing of the letter begins to appear over the video image.

You know: Dearest Fellahs. Release my sister unharmed. Or your predilection for underage Filipinos will…morph. Into a big fat steak for tabloid consumption.

No reply.

LIVE: Lighting:

Lights slowly come up on Mitnick.

Movement:

She is sitting on one of the white blocks toward the back of the space. She is holding the tube, fumbling with it in her fingers and rocking very slowly, as if catatonically, back and forth.

No Reply. Three days. My mother and me live off the instant coffee. I sent the message again and again and the third night wanted to move. Somewhere. New location. Safety in mobility. But my Mom…afraid to leave the motel room.

Sound:

Female voice
“I’m afraid we might miss the Executive Board’s reply!”

(Pause.)

Image:

The letter scrolls slowly down the screen.

So I send the message again. Give them a deadline of twelve hours.

That night. Three hours to deadline. Mom locks herself in the bathroom.

Lighting:

Black out.

I’m at the desk. Caffeine wears off and I doze. In the chair. (Pause.) When the light. The noise. And the syringe.

(Long pause.)

Sound:

The male voice distortion drops out and only the actors live voice, speaking in an American accent, can be heard.

It’s not like phantom pains. Not like you wish you had an arm and you don’t. You just… miss. The strangest things. Like dandruff.

Sound:

The male voice is trying to come back over the top, but it is occasionally dropping out.

Lighting:

The lighting flickers in and out slowly coming up to full.

This is a database. Like any it’s connected. Ways in. Ways around. And out. They aren’t very bright guys and I’m…not sure. They thought this through.

Putting me. Lenny Chen. In a database.

Movement:

Mitnick sits on the block. She is still fiddling with the tube. She has a sinister grin on her face. The rocking has become an almost imperceptible sway.

While it is not quite as difficult as going to the dentist, there is a high anxiety related to visit the doctor.
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Thanks for sharing the production scrips with us, i've been looking for this for a while.
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