Spinning Tales |
George I & II He looked at me and smiled. I found obvious sexual arousal disconcerting. I looked away. I always end up regretting the look away part. The George the HAB took several paces back to the far side of the hall. George the Tourist tried to catch my eyes again. His eyes were brown, alive. They wanted me to look back at him and say something funny, something to get him into bed. The sexual pressure . This is why I loved Shaolin. For all the intrigues, for all the violence, for all the endlessly fluctuating circles of power, I knew my place, I knew my job. Every other memory was gone, but in the morning, I knew what I was supposed to do. No matter what heresies I committed, no matter what vows I broke, no matter what attrocities I performed, The Beaucracy contained a strange half-assed grace. I belonged. George the Tourist didn't seem to care. He wanted me now, and didn't seem inclined to talk about strategic planning for the long term. Keep looking at him, I thought. That's the way to fuck everything up. I wanted to kiss him, but I looked away again. Excused myself from the corridor. George the HAB followed. George the Tourist did not. I didn't see him again. We returned to my room. George offered to send a younger HAB in. I took him up on it. It didn't take long. The Younger HAB -- who also had brown eyes, though they were rather dull looking -- had completed his duties and was done. The Younger HAB conferred soto vocco with George the HAB and left. No complications. George the HAB was still sitting in the corner, making notes when I drifted off to sleep. Grace is a bitchy mistress, but she's reliable. And then... And then I looked at her. She was small... like a baby only months old, and twisted. Her skull fed into a glass bulb, and her fully grown brain spilled out into it. She could not walk. She could not even crawl. She was trapped into a body by the constant surgeries and hormone treatments. Her nurses blotted drool from her mouth and dried muccus from her nose and eyes and stood back to let him approach. I've told them, she said, not to stop anything you do. The doors are locked. This is the way these things happen. These probabilities cannot be fixed. "I'm afraid you have me mistaken for someone else," I said, trying not to gag when I spoke. She sighed. Then you are not the assassin from the Pope. I had hoped my guards had been mistaken. The probability seemed likely they had killed the courier rather than the assassin. It's nothing personal. "Just business?" I asked her. My business, she said. Yes. Please know I don't begrudge your being alive... Are you... armed? Her voice betrayed a small sense of hope. "Not here," I confessed. It seemed improbable. I did the calculations this morning. May I get you a seat. One apppeared, a servant scuttled back into hiding. The nurses turned and left the room. No, really, sit. I did. The tree But that's the tree. It's what you make of it. If I couldn't sleep, I'd dodge the HAB and come down here. Saw a childhood friend once ascend into it, hoping to reach a personal Nirvana; then saw a whole cult of Platonists a few days later. Almost no one goes that far. The Heretical Binah Sisters contemplate the higher planes of reality that may exist beyond the trees apex. The HAB wander the base and contemplate rest. I still don't know what the devotees think, if they think anything at all. Most of us come here to stare into the face of something unknown, the simultaneous possibility to dissolving and ascending, the pure light of heaven, the emptiness of nirvana, the fool's tumble off the edge of creation. When the Abbot was new a few years back, before he became a paranoid old fuck, he used to come round up the practicals and take us out for rampaging nights across the ship. Once, when it was he and Frank and I and someone named George, we sat at the tree's base, half passed out. He told us he thought that the whole world was encased in the trunk of this tree, and the vastness of the world beyond was what we thought of as god. But that that whole world was also encased in its own tree, and so on. "It's trees all the way up." He cracked himself up and retired to his quarter. I don't know what made me think of it, but it was the last time I'd seen the abbot at the tree until that moment. Splitting My head is splitting when we decide to pull back up, out of Dead House and return to Shaolin. The trip back drives me to puking into a toilet on the poor pilgrims side of guest services. Mother Happenstance gives me three drops of something green and flavorless mixed into cheap vodka and that settles me down long enough to sleep off the rendezvous. There's not much to be said for zombies, but they're a reliable good time, especially when it's business. Today it was business. The room the devotees move me to this week is colder... almost too much. I almost leave a blanket out for the HAB, but I figure that might screw up our relationship. Wandering The more you explore Shaolin, the less you can be sure of the ship's interior: The turns of gravity, the shifts of the mandala, the way in which everything connects to everything and nothing. There are four things you can always find inside the ship:
You look for everything else at Shaolin's discretion. At least, that is what the Abbot says, when you can find him. That's what you spend most of your time at Shaolin doing - searching. And normally that's what they ask you when you wake up each morning, your personal Hospitable Angelic Brother standing at your elbow, monitoring your REM patterns, "what will you search for today?" I normally say things like, "sex" or "opiates." It never gets a rise out of them - the Hospitable Angelic Brothers are all of the old Homely Progressive school, aptly named. The HABs, had they not known me better, were likely to have tried to oblige. Some mornings, I wouldn't even have protested. This is why it shocks you (and not just because shock is their favorite way of waking you up), no matter how many times it happens, to wake up not to a REM-obsessed HAB with an annoying disregard for privacy, but to a devotee of the Bureaucracy standing rigidly still and eyeing your torture points. It's not that this never happens in my line of work, just that bureaucratic devotees are a fuck of a way to wake up in the morning since they are neither progressive, nor homely, nor even terribly communicative. "The Abbot wants to see you," and that's all they say. They'll wait while you get dressed, assuming you don't take too long. If you do, they just drag you naked through the mandala. I don't take too long. The Abbot does not like to wait.More from Shaolin I ducked the swing she aimed at my face by inches. Where the hell was this place? Frank didn't say. The bots didn't either. I pulled up and vanished. Gone. Poof. Poof. Back in Shaolin. I wondered what happened to her after I did that, but only a little. She was the kind of girl that probably happened to a lot. Amazonian. They don't fuck around. FE-folks (fully enhanced) pull up when they cross an Amazon. Otherwise they're fuckind dumb (plenty of those) or fucking masochistic (fewer of those - they're smarters, just weird). The monks don't blink. Frank wastes energy poofing around the deck. More monks are floating around the top of the tree. Poof. poof. poof. poof. Franks appears near to top of the tree, ahead of all of them, fakes gravity, lets himself fall. I tell him to calm the fuck down. This is all his idea. He looks at me to say "fuck off" in that way so he doesn't have to actually say it. He's built up too much energy and he's has to wind his bots down. They're feeding back into his metabolism. I know the feeling. Poof. Frank's beside me. The monk's don't say anything to us - the ship's core is a cone of monk-made silence they've willed into place more solidly each day we've been staying with them. Frank breathes heavy but quiet until - poof - another monk is there, giving us a message from the abbott. He wants us out of the core as much as possible. The monks are feeling corrupted, distracted. We should come see him for more information. Now. I fake some gravity up and grab Frank and let it pull us through a tunnel after the messenger. We cross the old labyrinthe, the cold storage tunnels that look out on the ancient reliquaries hovering around the temple in space. We pass the first core tree and go to the old, administrative part of the ship. You can't pull up to this part. The abbot doesn't allow it. The abbot's receptionist is young, non-monastic. He wears tight pants, tight shirt, and large collar. He's no FE, but he's got enough hair product in to fake it to the average person. He swishes his hips around the office and then leads us in to see Him. We aren't the abbot's favorites and he makes that clear. But he knows why we're here and doesn't want us to leave. He's reasonable like that. Bastard. Meanwhile back at the monastery... I haven’t been here in two years and everyone looks familiar. That’s all I know. Fuck. Frank said this would be the trigger. He’s normally full of shit, but I wanted to believe him this time. I need to believe something. I focus on the most familiar face… but he’s only familiar because he’s pretty. It’s a long, narrow face, with an angular, hawk-like. He smiles at his companion. Why do I know him? This is one of those places that might have drawn the same crowd two years ago, day in and day out. This is one of those places, also, where you might see some recovering celebrity. Was he on television? He leaves and rides away on his bike, taking my questions with him. I am thinking that maybe I can call Frank and have him pick me up. I hate the fact that not one of them remembers anything. There’s a guy across the way looking at me. New, came in when the familiar guy left. But I don’t think he thinks I’m familiar. I think he’s checking me out. Maybe he’s a cop looking for a mark. Maybe he’s one of those cultists looking for a sacrifice. Maybe he’s the cultist of a cop. And maybe he just wants sex, but that seems unlikely. He’s got a wedding ring on and seems too young to have gotten bored with it yet. But do I know. None of the minds in my brain could remember shit for silver, as my mom used to say. “You can’t remember shit for silver.” “You can’t remember where your hand is.” “You can’t remember.” It’s comforting to remember that it can’t all be traced to the incident, like it makes me less of a freak. Like it means there might be other absent-minded people out there. Like maybe the guy is looking at me because he forgot to look away. Like maybe you don’t need six amnesiac minds in your head in order to be crazy. I don’t want to call Frank yet, so I am trying to remember what else there is to do. Where did I used to walk to from here? Or did I drive or take a cab or call my driver to come get me. I can’t remember, and so much has changed I don’t know where to start looking for anchors. I call Frank and he’s there in a minute, keyed into my visual receptors, plugged into my subvocals, standing in front of me like a Victorian butler. “Anything?” “Nothing, can I go?” “I suppose, but you should try again at a different time of day.” He’s write, but I just grimace, and then we’re up and back in space at the Shaolin. The monks make Frank soy-pheasant in the replicator. I have roasted glutern rattlesnake, and we float around our cells, nabbing nuggets of food in zero-G. We suck hot, pureed lentils through a straw. Shaolin isn’t a new ship, it’s hardly luxury, but it’s monks are true culinary devotees. Two Shy Guys, Chapter 4 Two Shy Guys, Chapter 4: Saturday Morning AfterPage 1 Brian waking up slowly, over three panels. Top tier is a 1/3 page. Bottom tier takes up the rest. Top has three panels. Bottom has two. Count 'em yourself. Okay, okay. . . it's 5 total. Panels 1-3 First panel is an out of focus version of the third. Insert a plain black panel in the center. Them a clear version of Brian's POV, opening his eyes and seeing the sunlight in the window, and the digital alarm clock in front of the window, which says 8:45. Panel 4 Tight close on Brian. His eyes shut, looking contented. Br 1: Mmm. . . Sleep for another hour, then I'll call Bev and tell her I finally met. . . Panel 5 His top eye pops open. He looks concerned. Br 1: Uh. . . Where am I? Page 2 I'm thinking four panels. Let's see how that works. Shall we? Panel 1 Brian's turning onto his back, rousing Craig (who looks pretty groggy), whose arm is still around Brian's stomach. Br 1: Oh shit! I fell asleep. Cr 1: Yeah, and I didn't even take advantage of you. . . Panel 2 Craig and Brian sitting up in bed. Craig's arm around Brian's shoulder. Brian looks embarassed, Craig bemused. Br 1: I am so, so sorry. Cr 1: That I didn't take advantage of you? Panel 3 Brian, still a little embarassed, nuzzles up to Craig's chest. Craig, smiling, scratches his head. Br 1: No!I wanted to be awake for that part. Panel 4 Craig has pushed Brian back a little and brings his own head close to Brian's. Craig looks playful. Brian smiles. They're obviously about to kiss. Cr 1: Good thing I waited. Page 2 The make out scene. Uber hot. This is the only real makeout scene they get, so it needs to be intense. All the suggested makeout scenes at the end need to bring readers mentally back to this one. Four horizontal 1-tier panels, not necessarily cleanly symmetrical. Panel 1 Craig kisses Brian. . . Assertively. There should be certain amount of pent up energy on both their parts. Brian is starting to paw at the bottom of Craig's teeshirt. Panel 2 Brian's is kissing Craig intently back, they're both trying to get Brian's shirt off. Panel 3 Brian, his shirt hanging on one arm, has now flipped Craig (we might even show an idication of the motion having just happened). Brian is using one hand for balance and one hand is starting to push Craig's shirt off of Craig's stomach. He's nipping at Craig's neck as Craig looks in surprise toward the door. Frank's voice comes from off panel. Fr 1: (off panel, too loud for this early) Craig! Craig! Please be home! Cr 1: (low) Frank? SFX: (Frank knocking) Knock Knock Knock Panel 4 Much the same as panel 3, but they are now both looking intently at the door. Fr 1: (off panel) Oh god, Craig! This is a brunch emergency! SFX: Knock Br 1: How do you have a brunch emergency. . . Cr 1: Before 10 AM? Page 3 Let's try this with four panels, traditional 2x2 layout. Panel 1 Outside POV. Craig is opening the door, not looking terribly cheerful, as Frank is pushing through. Brian gets dressed in the background. Cr 1: Morning, Frank. Fr 1: Thank god you didn't go off with some trick. You won't believe what that little tart did this time! Panel 2 Frank, momentarily, stops up short, shamefaced. Brian's got his shirt pretty much back on (he's still pulling the shirt down with his left hand as he offers Frank his right hand). He's resolved to the sex not happening, so he's smiling politely. Fr 1: I'm so sorry. . . I'm Frank. Br 1: Brian. Panel 3 They shake, Frank still looking embarassed. Brian still looking polite. Craig looking undecided. . . Fr 1: I'm sorry, I can come back. . . Br 1: No! I was just about to head home. Panel 4 Craig suddenly realizes he needs to say something. Brian is still smiling politely. Frank is trying to make a hasty retreat. Cr 1: Uhm. . . Brian. . . Br 1: It's okay! Fr 1: I'll just. . . uh. . . wait next door. Page 4 Brian and Craig exchange information. 2x2 layout. Panel 1 Frank is out. Craig looks embarassed now. Brian is still looking polite, his hand on Craig's shoulder. Cr 1: I'm so sorry. . . Br 1: It's really okay. Panel 2 Craig is trying not to look desperate. He's holding Brian's hand while glancing around for a piece of paper. He's got a pen in one hand. Cr 1: Can I give you my number? Br 1: Ah. . . Yeah! Panel 3 Craig's sitting on the bed, writing on a scrap. Brian next to him, nuzzling his shoulder. Cr 1: Use it? Br 1: Of course. Panel 4 Placing it in Brian's hand, Craig is relaxing a little, a slight smile. Brian is about to give Craig a kiss on the cheek. Cr 1: Promise? Br 1: You bet. Page 5 Exit Brian. Another 2x2. Three panels on a single top tier, with one large on the second tier. Panel 1 They are still sitting on the bed, Craig looks almost pitiful speaking to Brian. Brian's leaning in for a real kiss. Fr 1: (off panel) Uhm. . . Craig. . . Cr 1: (to Brian) Sorry. Br 1: Less apology, more lip. Panel 2 Another quick kiss. Fr 1: Craig? Panel 3 At the door, Brian is grabbing his bag while he moves to give Craig a final peck on the cheek. Craig is calling across the hall. Br 1: I'll call you. Cr 1: Comin', Frank! Panel 4 Brian walking down the street, obviously a little baffled. He's punching in Bev's number on his cell. Br 1: Well. . . Hmm. . . Page 6 Brian's called Bev for advice. Three tiers, three horizontal panels. First panel has inset Panel 1 Inset Beverly's hand, holding a cell or small wireless phone. It should be clear that whoever is holding the phone is not taking anything more than a cursory glance at the caller ID. SFX: Beeeep Beep Bee. . . Panel 1 Bev, propped up on the bed, wrapped only in a sheet, Dianne curled contentedly to her left side, perhaps a cat on the bed with them. Her other hand holds a nail file she'd obviously been using. Bv 1: Hello, Brian. How can Princess Mama assist you on this fine Saturday morning? Bv 2: Why yes, yes I did. Twice. Panel 2 Bev, in same position, but cupping the phone against her ear as she returns to filing her nails. Dianne next to her now has he eyes open -- and rolled. Bv 1: Oh this sounds like a brunch problem. Di 1: (low) sigh. . . Panel 3 Same, but she's more intentlly looking at one hand. Dianne's now sitting on the end of the bed, slipping on a t-shirt (with an embroidered flower on it, of course). Bv 1: Alright, as soon as I have my ritual post-coital bath, exfoliate, moisturize. . . Bv 2: Don't be a bitch, I'll be ready by 11. Page 7 Craig and Frank at brunch. 2x2 layout. The menu indicates that the place is called "Euclid's." it should look like the Film Center Cafˇ, but it's in the Village. Waitress is Wt. Panel 1 Craig and Frank sitting down to brunch, waitress is walking away. The crowd should be quiet, but busy with their papers and books. Most folks eating here this early are alone. Fr 1: I am sooo sorry about this morning. Cr 1: Oh stop worrying about it. . . Fr 1: So who was this young. . . Panel 2 Waitress has walked up. Wt 1: Mimosas? Fr 1: Oh god, yes. Two. Fr 2: Craig what are you having? Cr 1: Just coffee. Panel 3 Waitress gone, they return to talking. Cr 1: So what did Eduardo do this time? Fr 1: Oh! What didn't that little fuck do this time? I've had it. Panel 4 Frank is almost done draining the first of the two mimosas in front of him. Cr 1: So he left the cap off the toothpaste again? Fr 1: Don't be spiteful Craig. . . You know how wound up I am. Page 8 Beverly and Dianne are sitting down to brunch with Brian at the Indigo Cafˇ. 2x2 layout. Panel 1 Beverly, having worked herself up a royal appetite, is studying the menu imperially. Brian is fidgety, his self doubt has already set in. Di 1: So you finally met him? That's good! Br 1: Yeah. . . but now I don't know. Panel 2 Beverly, having decided, is signaling to the waitress. Brian rests his chin in his hand, his elbow on the table, his menu unexamined. Bv 1: Is our boy not up to my baby's standards? Br 1: Oh he's great! Br 2: He just wants me to call him. Panel 3 Beverly and Dianne roll their eyes at each other. Brian looks frustrated at their dismissal. Panel 4 Brian shrugs. Bev holds her coffee up to take a sip as Dianne stirs hers. Br 1: What? Bv 1: See hon, most men have these things called testicles. Di 1: You might want to check and make sure yours are there. Page 9 Back to Frank and Craig. Another 2x2. Panel 1 Frank is in deep consternation, his lower face buried in his hands. His half of the table has a healf-eaten breakfast and several empty mimose glasses. Craig is clearly not buying it. He's still working on his pancakes. Cr 1: So he's leaving the country without you? Fr 1: Yes! Panel 2 Frank covers his eyes with one hand, gesturing with the other. Craig is clearly trying to make a point for an umpteenth time, while staying calm enough to sip coffee. Cr 1: On a business trip. Fr 1: You're missing the point! Cr 1: And the point is? Panel 3 Frank gestures broadly with both hands. Craig is trying not to roll his eyes, while popping a piece of sausage in his mouth. Fr 1: He's an immigrant, darling. What if they don't let him back in? Cr 1: Frank. . . Panel 4 Frank, his hands clenched, has one hand on his forehead now. Craig is looking at him meaningfully, while pointing at him with his fork, ab out to finish off the last of the pancakes. Cr 1: Ed's from Puerto Rico. Fr 1: You always take his side! Page 10 Back to Bev, Dianne, and Brian. 2x2. Panel 1 They have food now, but Beverly is back to gesturing for the waitress. Bv 1: Asleep? I'm going to need a Bloody Mary for this one. . . Br 1: I just don't understand why he didn't just wake me up? Panel 2 Closer up on Brian, pining out loud into his coffee. Br 1: Maybe I totally blew it? Br 2: Maybe he didn't think I was worth the trouble? Br 3: Maybe. . . Panel 3 Widen out to include Dianne, obviously exasperated. Di 1: Maybe he wanted your scrappy, neurotic ass for something more than a one-night stand?! Panel 4 Back to panel 1 frame. Bev's buried her face in her hands. Dianne is turning to get the waitress. Brian looks despondent. Br 1: So he wasn't attracted to me at all! Di 1: Make that two Bloody Marys. Page 11 Split page. Brian and Beverly are going to their respective works, talking about articles they're going to write. Craig is going to his office. Continue four panel, 2x2 layout. Panel 1 Bev is standing up from the table, holding the bill. Dianne is gathering up her purse. Brian is looking a little more together. Bv 1: I'm getting this, but you're my bitch for the rest of the afternoon. Br 1: When you have no social life, it never hurts to work weekends? Panel 2 Frank and Craig are figuring out how much they owe. Neither look up from counting the cash out. Fr 1: So the moral is no more relationships. Fr 2: Are you going to give that furry young man a call? Cr 1: He uh. . . He doesn't know I have his number. Cr 2: Don't ask. Panel 3 Bev is escorting Brian to their office. He grimaces at the thought of working with her all day. Dianne is waving goodbye. Di 1: I'll see you two later. . . Bv 1: Come on, babe, it'll be just like college paper all over again. Br 1: Our college paper didn't review live sex shows. Panel 4 Craig is waving to Frank. Fr 1: Don't you ever take weekends off? Cr 2: If I can't have sex, I might as well write about it. Page 12 On their ways home, Dianne and Frank pass. I swear, no more four panel, 2x2 layouts for several pages! After this one. Panel 1 Frank is walking along back to the building. Di 1: (off panel) Well, hello Frank! Panel 2 Frank and Dianne give each other a brief, simple hug. Fr 1: Oh hello, dear, coming home from brunch? Di 1: Yes, with one of Beverly's college friends. Panel 3 Standing and chatting pleasantly. Dianne is patting is hand in feigned sympathy. Fr 1: Oh, I just had brunch with a young neighbor of mine. Di 1: Oh, I know how that is. . . Panel 4 They start to move past each other toward their own buildings, waving goodbye. Di 1: The young and their dramas! Fr 1: Don't I know it! See you Monday!
Two Shy Guys, Chapter 3 Two Shy Guys, Chapter 3Page 1 Movie theatre, Licence to Die is showing. Six panels on three tiers. Panels alternate between audience view of the guys and the views of other audience members looking toward the screen (but never quite getting a full glimpse of it except in the first couple of pannels). I’ll use “Mv” to indicate off-panel voices from the film. “Vc” to indicate off panel voices from the audience. Panel 1 We see the movie, but it shouldn’t be obvious, from the panel frame, it shouldn’t be obvious that it’s a movie at first. The frame is of a “handsome,” athletic mid-40s woman in an evening gown, hair worn properly up, probably with a bit a jewelery, clinging (precarilously) to the side of a dark structure with one hand, holding some sort of nasty looking automatic rifle in the other. A timid middle-aged looking man in a tux is next to her, holding on for dear life. The SFX comes from the bottom of the panel. Something about the lettering might suggest it’s not really part of the scene. I dunno. You’re the artist. Man: But Dame Jennifer… Wmn: Sorry, old boy. SFX: (From audience) RIIIIING Panel 2 Close up on the woman aiming her gun directly into the screen, slightly to the left. She’s holding the gun one-handed (impossible, I know, but do this in homage of all the action heros who do six impossible things before nightcaps). She look determinedly steady. SFX should indicate that the phone is being answered mid panel. The voice should come from below the panel. Wmn: There’s no time to get maudlin. SFX: RING Vc: Oh hey baby! What you up to?, it’s getting good. Panel 3 Craig and Brian cross focused on their pre-bumping knees, wondering if one will actually make contact with the other. MV 1: (Dame Jennifer speaking from off screen) Dammit, Georgie, I had to take that shot. MV 2: (another voice) I know Jennie, I know. Just… just hold me. Vc 1: (whisper) Gimme the damn popcorn. Panel 4 Larger view of the audience, including couple making out on the right side of the row behind Brian and Craig. Brian and Craig are in the lower left hand corner (maybe only from neck up). Craig glances at Brian wistfully, Brian focusing on the screen, a tad uncomfy. Frat looking-boy talking on phone immediately behind them, his annoyed-lloking little sister next to him. If they fit, slip in some teens drinking out of a bottle in a paper bag? Mv 1: (Dame Jennifer speaking from off screen) Keep all your girls in handcuffs, Retcliff? Mv 2: (First voice on screen) I’m afraid, Ms. Banks, that we’ll have to leave those on until the Prime Minister is dead. Vc 1: (On phone in audience) Well, no shit, what did you tell her? SFX: (couple) mmm… ahhh… Panel 5 View of the screen, with Jennifer – decked in a riding suit, hair coming a tad undone -- punching a femme-y blond girl in a formal gown. We should see the sihlouette of the frat boy talking on the phone in front of the screen, lower right. Mv: (Dame Jen) Sorry, Fanny, I like my femmes a tad less fatale. Vc: (Frat boy) No… No… No fuck-ing way! Panel 6 Craig looks slightly surprised, looking toward screen,while Brian’s giving a sly half grin, also looking forward, almost winking to the reader. Their knees have bumped (complete with bump-indicating motion lines?). Mv 1: (off panel voice from screen) Dame Jennifer, it’s the palace on line… Mv 2: (off panel voice 2 from screen) Hold my calls, Tom. I’m debriefing a witness. Mv 3: (off panel voice 3 from screen) Oh, Agent Banks, you do know how to treat a girl. Vc 1: (off panel on phone) It’s almost over, I’ll meet you outside. Page 2 The movie over, Craig and Brian actually (!!!) talk. Their knees should stay connected until they actually throughout. Four panels, over two tiers. People are getting up and leaving all around them. The theatre is still dark as the credit roll. Panel 1 The boys are shyly smiling at each other. You can see the lower halves of people moving around behind them, commenting on the film. The frat boy’s sister is on the phone. Cr 1: Hi… Br 1: Hey… Vc 1: I cannot believe they call her a feminist action hero… Vc 2: (on phone) So then my mom calls! Panel 2 They reach a momentary freeze point. They both look suddenly anxious at their inabilityto get past “hi.” Br 1: (thinking) … Cr 1: (thinking) … Vc 1: Dude, girl on girl! Vc 2: Gonna get me a sandwhich! Panel 3 Craig decides to speak up, motioning toward the destinationless “drink.” Brian looks even more surprised and speechless now that an actual offer is being put on the table: he’s gesturing mindlessly, not realizing he’s indicating the screen without meaning to. Cr 1: So, uhm… you wanna get a drink. Br 1: I… Uh… Vc 1: (on phone) He said what? Vc 2: Do not start that bisexual three-way shit again. Panel 4 Craig gives a sweet grin, trying to to be charming. Brian is visibly suckered in, grining and blushing. Cr 1: I mean, after the credits. Br 1: Oh, well, yeah. Page 3 Full page shot, Craig and Brian still sitting in their seats, offering each other their hands to shake. A straggling couple leaving the theatre and ushers coming in. Cr 1: I’m Craig. Br 1: Brian. Page 4 They’re outside the theatre, a few minutes later on this page, trying to decide where to go. They’re back in Chelsea, a neighborhood neither of them knows very well or comes to very often. A long top panel over three tall, thin vertical panels. Panel 1 They’re outside on the sidewalk, Brian with his hands in his pockets, kinda in awe this is even happening, kinda quietly delighted. Craig, not completely aware of Brian’s interest, is trying desperately to come up with SOME place to go. Brian is slouching a bit, hands in his pockets. Craig is gesturing around him, sorta cluelessly. Trying to look upbeat, but he feels like the weight of the situation is now on him, so he’s eager to come up with a good plan on the spot. Cr 1: I mean, I don’t come out here very much… Br 1: Not a Chelsea queen? Cr 2: Oh man, no way! Panel 2 Craig stops, shocked that he said that, looks out from panel at Brian. Cr 1: I mean… I’m… gay… Cr 2: and all that… Panel 3 Brian, smiling, in spite of himself, being mock-standoffish. Br 1: You’re going to try to recruit me, aren’t you? Panel 4 Striking a mock Mormon-missionary-at-your-door pose. Cr 1: I just want to share all the good things homosexuality is doing in my life. Page 5 They go into X-it, a bar in Chelsea that’s a tad to fab for either of them, but they’re making the best of a bad idea… Three tiers. The first tier has two panels, though the first doesn’t need to be large. Inside, there’s quite a crowd, weird lights, shadows, queens in tight jeans, posuers of every stripe, and, of course, a glitter-covered shirtless bartender. The other two should be 1 panel each. The total effect, though, should be very un-QaF: crowded, small, noisy, painfully vapid. Our boys are cramped and uncomfortable. Maybe enhance the crowding efffect by lowering the top panel border closer to their heads and pushing them to one side of the panel or the other. Panel 1 Craig’s opening the door of X-it, gesturing for Brian to go in. They have to past the door boy, a prissy-looking muscle queen. Sound waves, notes, etc. are coming out of the door. SFX 1: (club music from out of the door) When you look at me, tell me what do you see? Cr 1: My roommate made me come here once… Panel 2 They’re wading toward the bar itself. The crowd near the door should look a little too energetic. Too happy, etc. SFX 1: (club music) … what you get, it’s the way I am. Br 1: That’s quite a recommendation. Cr 1: It’s supposedly the bar if you like appletinis. Br 2: Then I understand your reticence. Vc: Unh! Sooo Y2K! Panel 3 Brian sees a table off panel and points, tugging on Craig’s arm. Craig gestures to the bar. People are milling around them, waving, rolling eyes, getting hyper, etc. Someone’s doing cocaine out of the hollow of a friend’s hand while the friend tries to look nonchalant. They’re already trying to project over the music to talk. A younger man is obviously yelling at an older man who looks at him dismissively. SFX 1: (club music) I know you want to touch me, here, there… Br 1: Oh, I see a table. Cr 1: It’s an act of God, I’ll get the drinks. Vc: You cheating… stupid… slut! Panel 4 They’re separated by a group of NYU boys, barely legal, slipping through, giggling. They’re having to raise their voices to speak. Two muscle boys in A&F shirts are being introduced by an older third, though they’ve apparently already met. They’re shaking hands. The one who isn’t speaking is blushing. SFX 1: (club music) Say I’m gonna be a bad girl again. Br 1: What do they have on tap? Cr 1: Uhm, probably Coors… Cr 2: Coors Light… Vc: Oh trust me… I know Randy! Panel 5 Further apart now, they’re having to almost yell. Brian’s kinda wincing at the thought of bad beer. Craig’s sympathizing, giving him a thumb’s up that he got the beer order. An late 40s man in clothes 15 years too young s is talking animatedly. SFX 1: (club music) Why don’t you come on over? Br 1: Ah… uh… surpise me. Cr 1: Gotcha! Vc: I was out on the Island… Page 6 This page gets them from sitting at the table, unable to hear each other to Craig inviting Brian back to his place. Four panels, two tiers. Bacckgrounds on all panels should be pretty busy. “Vc” indicates someone in the background talking. Somewhere in this page, someone should be doing blow. Panel 1 Close up on Craig and Brian settling down onto a small table, Craig handing Brian a beer. The music has gotten louder and less lyrical. Craig is raising his voice to talk, smiling to indicate he’s making a joke. Brian is straining to hear. He looks sorta confused. An early 30s professional (great body, unnattractive scowl) is scolding a younger companion who has a decidedly under age/rent-boy look. Cr: So just what is a nice boy like you doing in a place like this? SFX: (the club “music”) Thunk Thunk Thunk Thunk Thunk Vc: Bitch! If you spill my drink… Panel 2 Focus on Brian, who toward at Craig blankly. He obviously didn’t hear the joke at all. Maybe he’s gesturing to his ear or something he might do to indicate he can’t hear. Voice 2 should be sincerely appalled. Two slightly overweight boys in tight club-gear are bemoaning the fate of the frozen cosmo machine. The one isn’t speaking looks like he lost his best friend. Br: Sorry, uhm… What? SFX: (music) BWAAAAAAAH BWAAAAAH Vc 1: The frozen cosmo machine is broken! Panel 3 Focus on Craig, who looks shyly bemused that he can’t speak. He’s undecided what to do now. The bar thing was obviously a bad idea. He’s got an idea he’s toying with, but he’s got a slight shy grin, undecided about whether or not to spit it out. The voice belongs to a girl gossiping with a gay boy. Cr: I… uh… I said… uhh… SFX: Nyah Nyah Nyah Nyah Vc 1: Oh my god! Panel 4 Closer up on Craig, leaning in, half shyly, half conspiratorially toward Brian. Using a barely audible tone (given the context). Brian is grinning. Some frail looking early 20s boy-thing is going on about how he told off someone. His boy and girl friends are loving it. Cr: I… uh… said that… I… got some Guiness at home… Br: Toss in better music and you got a deal. SFX: Thunk Thunk Thunk Vc: Blow him? I wouldn’t piss on his senior-citizen ass if… Page 7 We jump from the bar to the indoor stairs of Craig’s building. This page gets them into the building and to the door. Four panels, two tiers. Do the math. Last panel should have an inset close-up on Craig. Panel 1 Rounding Craig’s landing, entering his hallway. They are talking casually, obviously relieved to be out of the bar. They’ve only walked about 5-10 minutes. If we can see the floor, we see a small mouse scampering along the baseboard. Craig’s fishing in his pocket for the keys. Br 1: Wow, West Village Cr 1: Yeah. This is my room. Hers is that door. Kitchen and bath in the middle. Br 2: It’s nice. Cr 2: Yeah, I got lucky. Panel 2 They stop near Craig’s door (G-3). Both look sheepishly tripped up (and slightly amused) by Craig’s choice of words. Both blush a tad. Craig’s fumbling with his keys. Cr 1: I… uh… mean… my roommate… Br 1: Got lucky with your roommate? Panel 3 Craig is slightly annoyed but mostly amused. View from inside the apartment as Craig opens the door for Brian. It’s fairly dark inside, but you can see them in the light from the hallway. Craig is smirking. Cr 1: No… smartass… She inherited the rent control from her dad. Br 1: You did get lucky. Panel 4 Craig is turning on a light, the door still open. Brian is setting his bag down by a chair near the door. Craig is looking down in surprise. SFX: (switch) Click Br 1: But don’t fill me in on the sordid boy-on-girl… Cr 1: (raised voice) Dammit! Panel 4 Inset Close-up on Craig’s face looking slightly down. He looks… agitated. Cr 1: Mouse!!! Page 8 This page is zany. Make it zany. That’s all I ask. We’ll discuss it. Waving brooms and overturned coffee tables should be involved. The mouse should find its way out the door by second-to-last panel. I’m thinking 3 tiers, around 7 panels. Panel 1 Full tier. From a PoV near the darting mouse. The mouse should be darting just below the right side of the frame as we look up on Brian and Craig. Brian has jumped into the chair and is half kneeling in it, his unbutch side staerting to come through. Craig looks like he’s about to go on the attack – think Howard Dean the night after Iowa. He’s pointing, about to pounce. Reaching for whatever’s handy. Br 1: Where?? Cr 1: There!!! Panels 2-4 These threee panels are the mouse chasing sequence. The first two should have Craig chasing the mouse with a broom or something like that (what might be near the door? An umbrella? An encyclopedia?). The last should have Craig chasing the mouse on a clear path to a door Brian is hiding behind. Craig would scream “Get it!” “Yeeeeaaagh!” etc. in the first two panels and “Open the door!” in the final. Or something like that. Brian just makes scared noises. During the chaos, we should get some indication that the table or shelf holding Brian’s number has been upset, which won’t become important until later. Panel 5 Third tier, two panels. Craig has slammed the door. Brian is half cowering where he’d been hiding behind the door. Craig is raising his fist at the mouse on the other side. Cr 1: And stay out! Panel 6 They’re sitting against the door, looking exhausted. Brian’s mouth is agape. Whatever Craig was swinging with is lying deserted. Cr 1: So make yourself at home. Br 1: You’re this much fun every night? Page 9 Seven panels. Three tiers. Two on top, three in middle, two on bottom. Panel 1 Closer up on their faces, still seated against the door. Cr 1: So why don’t I get us those beers. Br 1: Yeah… Panel 2 Close on Brian, still sitting by the door. Br 1: I guess my butch image is shot. Cr 1: (off panel) Nah! Panel 3 Same as 2, but Craig leans in from the upper left. Brian rolling his eyes. Cr 1: But I can make appletinis if you prefer. Panel 4 Same as 2, Craig is off panel again. Brian is looking in his direction, making a sarcastic face. Br 1: No , really… I’m laughing on the inside. Cr 1: (off panel) Awww… I’ll let you pick the first CD. Panel 5 Brian has seen a CD he wants and has it in hand as he pops open the CD player. CDs and the stereo are on a bookshelf near the front door. Br 1: Can I put on Ryan Adams? Cr 1: (off panel) Yeah… Panel 6 Same scene, Brian is holding up the CD that was in the player like it’s a dead bug? Br 1: Christina? Cr 1: (off panel) That’s my roommate’s. Panel 7 Brian has slipped a CD into the player, and pciked his song, the music is starting. Craig is coming up, holding two beers. SFX: (music lyrics) Black birds, slow and softly… Br 1: That voice makes my palms sweat. Cr 1: Your butch side is showing. Page 10 Three tiers. Six panels. Even? Panel 1 Brian sits on the floor, looking through the titles on the CD shelf. Craig rests on his arm behind him, sipping his bee, grinning coyly. Br 1: So who else are you stashing in here? Cr 1: I dunno, who else are you trying to sleep with? Panel 2 Close on Brian blushing, chewing his lip a little, grinning a little. Holds his beer like he’s about to take a sip. They’re obviously near the foot of the bed. This should set us up for how close the bed is to the stereo (or later!). Br 1: Just who are you trying to sleep with? Br 2: I mean, rockstar wise… Panel 3 Craig, leans back on both elbows, looks playfully pensive. Cr 1: Oh man… I dunno… Cr 2: But you… uh… kinda have that Ryan Adams look about you. Panel 4 Craig still leaning on his elbows, Brian lies down on his side near him, resting on his arm. They’re not touching, but they’re at “point of no return” distance. Br 1: Awwww! Cr 1: Mr. Silver-Tongue, ain’t I? Panel 5 They’re leaning their heads a little closer together, Brian looking conspiratorial this time. Br 1: So? Cr 1: Yeah? Panel 6 Close on Brian, smiling coyly. Br 1: You have to do one rocker chick. Who would it be? Page 11 Three tiers. Five panels. Two 2x2 tiers, third tier with one panel. Their beers should dwindle throughout the scene. Panel 1 Same shot as Page 10, Panel 5. Craig is pulling back, chuckling. Brian grinning widely. Cr 1: You have a one-track mind. Br 1: So answer the question… Panel 2 Craig lying back on the floor, looking thoughtful. Cr 1: I dunno… Liz Phair. Cr 2: You? Panel 3 Brian with one figner pointed up as if he’d just proven a ajor point in a debate. Br 1: Only one rocker girl is butch enough for me. Br 2: Amy Ray Panel 4 They’re both lying down now, right next to each othe, not quite tocuhing. Obviously enjoying the conversation. Cr 1: The Indigo Girl? Br 1: Or Lucinda Williams… Panel 5 Craig is jumping up, almost off panel. Brian sitting up, looking slightly bewildered/bemused/possibly dizzy. The look on his face should give us the first clue that the beer may have gone down too quick. Cr 1: Now Lucinda, I got. Br 1: Oh? Br 1: Whoa Page 12 Six, count em, six panels, in a 3 tier x 2 panel structure. Lovely, no? Panel 1 Craig is standing at the stereo contendedly… possibly even slyly? Brian, having walked up behind him looks appreciative. Cr 1: This is my favorite… SFX: (Song) I envy the wind, that whispers in your ear. Panel 2 Brian smiles, sitting back (on the bed!!!) starting to look a little droopy eyed. Craig is climbing on next to him. Br 1: I had to take a shower the first time I heard this album. Cr 1: Oh, totally. SFX: (Music) Moves through your hair, cracks your lips… Panel 3 The two lean back on the bed and smile at each other. Arms/shoulders brush. Br 1: So? SFX: (music) I envy the rain, that falls on your face. Panel 4 They lean in a little closer. Brian’s hand on Craig’s chest, Craig’s hand on top of it. Cr 1: So? SFX: (music) Soaks through your shirt… Panel 5 Close up on Brian, looking droopy, happy, tired. Lying his cheek on the bedspread. Br 1: Gonna kiss me? SFX: (music) Rolls down your back Panel 6 They’re a fraction of an inch from kissing, Craig over Brian. Cr 1: What makes you think I’d do that? Page 13 Five panels over three tiers. Top tier is dominant, 1x1. Bottom two tiers are 2x2. Panel 1 They kiss. Big. Craig over Brian. Nothing too obscene, though, but maybe a little tummy touching under the shirts or something else coy but suggestive. Panel 2 Craig leans back, smiling, Brian looking a little breath-taken. Cr 1: Wow? Br 1: Wow. Panel 3 Close on Brian, obviously deliriously tired, but very happy. Eyes closed. Br 1: (soft) Wow. Panel 4 Craig gives Brian a slightly concerned look. Brian smiles, eyes half open. Cr 1: You okay? Br 1: Yeah… Just drank that beer a little fast. Panel 5 Craig is slipping off of the bed. Cr 1: Yeah… mine’s slipping through me a little quickly… Be right back. Br 1: Oh, I’ll be here. Page 14 Interplay of Craig in the bathroom getting ready, and Brian getting groggy. One tier. Three vertical stretch panels, no necessarily symetrical. Panel 1 Front view of Craig taking a whiz (waist up, you perv!). Smiling, thinking to himself. Cr 1: (very quietly singing to himself) I’m about to sleep with Bri-i-i-an! Cr 2: (more singing) Bri-i-i-i-i-an! Panel 2 Brian, lying back on the bed, smiling, looking very droopy. Br 1: (thinks) He is so… snuggle-able. Panel 3 Craig, checking himself out in the mirror, while gargling. Cr 1: (continuing the singing in his head) Making sweet, sweet… whooopeee… Cr 2: (ditto) with Bri-i-i-an! SFX: (from Craig) Gaaaagle Gaaahgle Page 15 Continues into a three tier layout. Five panels. Top tier is half page/1 panel, bottom two are quarters. Second and third have two. Panel 1 Craig looks at a spot on his forehead in a near panic. Cr 1: (thinks) Oh crap! That… that cannot… Cr 2: (thinks) It cannot be a zit Panel 2 Close on Brian, fighting to keep his eyes open, lying on the bed. Br 1: (thinks) So snuggle… Br 2: (ditto) Snuggle-able… Panel 3 Craig walking back into the bedroom. Cr 1: So… where were we? Panel 4 Close on Brian asleep on top of the covers, Craig’s hand on his shoulder. Cr 1: (off panel) Brian? Panel 5 Craig sitting on the edge of the bed, Brian barely visible in frame, looking disappointed and a tad befuddled Cr 1: (soft) Uhm… Well… Page 16 Full shot of Craig and Brian, mostly clothed (you might have Craig strip down to boxers), snuggled up on bed. It should be obvious that Brian has, even asleep, pulled and held Craig’s arm around him. Craig should still be awake, but semii comfortable, though still disappointed. Cr 1: This works too. I guess. Two Shy Guys, Chapter 2 Two Shy Guys Chapter 2 Sixth Avenue Stalker Page 1: (Starts with title panel of some sort on tier 1) Panel 1: Long panel covering all of tier 1 not covered by title panel. Craig scampering into the 8th Street N/R station as if he’s just heard a train arriving. Headphones on, No Doubt blaring. He’s carrying some kind of courier bag. Conductor: This is Eighth Street... Cap: It’s not that I’d really plan just to have nights alone... Headphones: I’m holding signs up... on your street corner stops Panel 2: Tier two. 2 panels. Craig swiping card at turnstile. Cap: ... I mean, a boyfriend of something would be kinda nice... Headphones: excuse me mister, I’ve been waiting in line... Conductor: Next stop on this downtown... Panel 3: Craig just making it into the train through closing doors. Conductor: Step in and stand clear of... Headphones: I’m very anxious, eager, willing Cap: But another part of me knows... Panel 4: Craig standing in the middle of a semi-crosded train, skinny, older guitar player in the background Cap: This is my time. Headphones: Please make room for me in the time yet to be... Excuse me... Conductor: This is Canal Street Guitar player: “Have you ever seen a robin weep...” Panel 5: Craig standing in the middle of a crowded Chinatown street near Canal stop, headphones off, qiet smile. Cap: My time alone in the city. SFX: Honk (etc.) Page 2: Panel 1: Top tier. 1 panel. Craig sits reading Finder in a chinese restaurant called Spicy Sweet while eating orange chicken with chopsticks. Cap: If there’s one reason to keep my shit job... Panel 2: 2nd tier. 1 panel. Craig, walking up toward the Lower East Side, looking at a folded copy of The Daily News, drinking a bubble tea, passing a Chinese woman on a bike. Cap: It’s because it lets me be here. Panel 3: 3rd tier. 1 panel. Craig passes through the East Village, the newspaper stuck in his bag, the bubble tea tossed away. He’s passing a gay bar with a neon sign. A tres East Village gay couple is walking away from him, holding hands. Street singer off to one side. Cap: Nights like this, I think nothing could blow my cool. Singer: He was married when we first met, soon to be divorced. Helped him out of a jam I guess but I used a little too much force... Sign: Grope Page 3: Craig flashes back to seeing and almost meeting Brian. Panel 1: Top tier. Two panels. At NW corner of 2nd Ave. and Saint Marks, Craig stops to grab a copy of The Vocal Villager (with the headline, “10 Politicians Who Really Bite”). Her catches something out of the corner of his eye coming up the west side of the street, approximately near the SW corner under the scaffolding. Cap: Almost nothing. Cr (to self) 1: What? Panel 2: Closeup of Brian standing on SW corner. Craig (to self off panel) 1: Oh crap! Panels??: Tiers 2-3. Montage of Craig seeing Brian scenes, including accidentally getting his phone number. The scene of Craig getting Brian’s phone number should break into the middle of the fourth tier. These could get slightly cartoony as Craig is idealizing them. Maybe some floating hearts or something… Maybe these can be 3-4 scenes forming a triangle or diamond in the center of the page, the visual variation will help indicate they are flashbacks. One should show Craig unable to make himself speak to Brian. Panel ?: Tier 4. 2 panel. Craig is half holding the newspaper in front of his face. Craig (to self) 1: It’s that cute guy... Craig (to self) 2: Brian! Panel ?: Shorter panel. Brian standing on opposite. corner, oblivious, starting to cross the street, slightly diagonal Craig (to self, off panel) 1: I gotta hide! Page 4: Craig starts to follow Brian through the East Village, past Washington Square, to 6th Avenue. Panel 1: Tier 1. 1 panel. The POV is from slightly behind Craig as (from behind the Vocal Villager stand) he watches Brian veer down St. Mark’s Pl. Cap 1: (Top left) Of course, I’ve no idea what I’m hiding from. Cr 1 (to self): Where’s he going? Cap 2: (Bottom right) He doesn’t even know I have his number... Panel 2: Tier 2.2 panels. Craig, obviously following Brian, ducks behind a car bumper near the 8th Street NR stop. Maybe we see an incense/hash pipe seller in the background somewhere (like near the KMart?). Cap: I feel like Audrey Hepburn chasing Cary Grant in Charade! Panel 3: Brian in foreground, on 8th Street, looking at a sex shop (including a sign for “Prussian Ticklers”) near NYU. In background, Craig is peering out at him from behind a nearby doorway. An NYU coed, dressed in some strange blend of urban hip and private school prep clothes give Craig an odd glare. Cap: Or that cowboy chasing Casey Donovan in The Back Row. Panel 4: Tier 3. 2 panels. Craig has followed Brian down the South Side of 8th Street. We see Brian from near Craig’s POV, starting to veer downtown onto 6th Ave. Craig is passing an abandoned storefront window with darkened, reflective glass. We catch a brief glimpse. Cap: God, I’m derivative. Panel 5: Craig’s reflection in the glass – obviously he’s turned to check himself out for a second. Cr 1 (thinks from off panel): This shirt makes me look fat. Page 5: Craig follows Brian into Lola Rhythm. Panel 1: Tier 1. 1 panel. Craig sees Brian ducking into Lola Rhythm on 6th Ave (where the Sam Goody is in real life). Cr 1 (thinks) : At least he has good taste in music stores Panels 2-3: Tier 2. 2 panels. We see Craig snooping over Brian’s shoulder. (Go ahead, get whacky!) Brian (muttering, in panel 3): Where is? Panel4: Tier 3. 3 panels. From near Craig’s POV, we see Craig near the edge of a music display as Brian turns in his direction from about 10-15 feet away. Br (to himself, quietly): Ah ha! Cr (thinks): Ooops Panel 5: Craig sitting/ducking behind the edge of a shelf/display for the Chickenhawks’ “Tastes Like Chicken.” Clerk (off panel): Can I help you? Panel 6: Craig’s POV of a female clerk with a nose ring, plaid skirt, and dyed black hair looking down at him, her arms crossed. Cr (from off panel): Uhm Page 6: More Lola Rhythm. Panel 1: Tier 1. 2 panels. Large panel of Craig up on his knees pleading with clerk. Cr: The guy in section D-I.... what’s he looking at? Panel 2: Clerk gives Craig a withering glare, close-up. Cl: Dude… Panel 3: Tier 2. 3 panels. Similar to above, though she’s sorta rolling her eyes. Cl: Grow a pair! Panel 4: Clerk POV. Craig looks up at her and makes puppy dog eyes. Panel 5: Clerk storming off in Brian’s direction. Cl (mutters): Queer boys! Panel 6: Tier 3. 2 panels. Half tier panel of Craig looking worried, still ducking/sitting behind shelf end. Clerks’ head is jutting back in. Clerk 1: Indigo Girls Cr: Old or new? Clerk 2: Go away. Panel 7: Craig still in same position, clerk gone, shrugs. Cr: At least it’s not Brittney… Page 7: Craig follows Brian out of the music store, up 6th Ave. Panel 1: Tier 1, 1 panel. Brian in foreground walking north on 6th Ave away from Lola’s, in background we see Craig peering out from the doorway of Lola’s. Cr 1 (thinks): There he goes... Panels 2-4?: Tiers 2-3. Craig sneeks after Brian, as above. In panel 4, we see him gasp in surprise. Last panel shows Annie and niece passing by. Panel 5: Last panel of tier 3. From Craig’s POV, we see Brian to check out a book vendor Cr 1 (thinks, off panel): Ooops... Hide! Panel 6: Craig, hiding behind a potted tree in front of building, obviously while Brian purchases his book only a few feet away. In the background some passerby giving him an odd look. Cr 2 (thinks): Why don’t I just say hi to him? Girl (off panel): Aunt Annie, why is that homosexual hiding? Page 8: Craig has a brief encounter with radio celebrity Aunt Annie. Panel 1: Tier 1, 1 panel. From Craig’s POV, Aunt Annie, standing over him, not really looking at him (though her neice is still intently staring). Annie is talking distractedly to her neice. AA: Probably plotting to overthrow the government dear. Panels 2-5?: Tier 2(-3?). Mostly from Craig’s POV. Annie looks confusedly off in Brian’s direction. We see Brian still checking out books. Annie looks down at Craig as if seeing him for the first time. She rolls her eyes. AA: Look... Panel 6: Tier 3 (or 4?). Long view of Craig hiding, ignoring AA and girl, trying to see where Brian’s off to next, as the women stroll off, almost off panel, opposite direction of Brian. AA: Look, if you’re going to flaunt your sinful, hellbound lifestyle in public, at least grow a pair and talk to him. Girl: What should he grow a pair of? Cr 4 (thinks - looking back toward Brian): Now where’s he going? Page 9: We’re gonna move a Chelsea Clearview-like theater to 6th Ave and 22nd (north side). It’s called Chesea Riverview. This is the page where Brian stops into line and Craig is forced to follow him. Panel 1: Tier 1, 1 panel. Craig’s head and upper body are facing into the panel from the lower left side. Fromnear Craig’s POV, we’re seeing Brian stand in an outside line (a little crowded, but overwhelming) to buy a ticket. It might look ambiguous about whether Craig’s in line or not... Leave Brian a few people into the line, but the following panels should definitely make it seem like Craig is getting closer to him. Cr 1 (thinks): But what’s he going to see? Panel 2: Low bird’s eye view of Craig shifting out of Brian’s line of site while standing in line. Cr 1 (thinks, off panel): I guess, I could just walk up behind him and be like “hey, haven’t I seen you before?” Panel 3: From slightly behind Craig, who’s now almost to the front of the line, we see Brian ordering a ticket. Cr 1 (thinks): Then I could do something like, “So what are you here to see... Oh man! That’s what I’m going to see, too!” Cr 2 (thinks): I am so pathetic. Panel 4: Tier 3, 2 panels. Craig at the window, ordering from clerk, gesturing toward where Brian went. Clerk should be a tad cartoonishly queeny, so it’s kinda obvious that he knows what’s up. Cr 1: One for the... uhm... (mutters) same thing he got. Cr 2 (thinks): I hope he’s not going to something... girly. Panel 5: Craig’s PoV of clerk handing him a ticket. Clerk is rolling his eyes, knowingly annoyed. Clrk: One for Assault from Beneath II. Cr 1 (thinks): Hmm... Kinda butch... Page 10: Craig tries to find a place to sit, gets neurotic about it, and eventually ends up sitting right next to Brian. Panel 1: Tier 1. 1 Panel. Craig standing outside the theatre door, looking in. Cr 1 (thinks): Previews have started... So I’ll just slip in, watch the movie, and then “accidentally” notice him on the way out... Panel 2: Tier 2. 2 Panel. Craig hunting the darkened aisles for a space to sit. Screen (announcer): ... Like you’ve never seen him before... Screen (woman): ... Ohhh... Ohhhhh JAME... Cr 1 (thinks): I should probably sit somewhere behind him... but... Cr 2 (thinks): Where is he? Person (off panel, loud whisper): Asshole... Sit down! Panel 3: Craig plops down in an aisle seat, but he’s craning his neck. We can’t see who he’s next to. Screen (announcer): Coming this holiday... Cr 1 (thinks): Oh man, where is he? Brian (off panel): Uhm... Panel 4: We see now that Brian and Craig are sitting right next to each other. Brian smiles weakly, Craig with a slightly manic/guilty look. Screen (announcer): LICENSE TO DIE! Br 1: Hi? Cr 1: Hi! Person 1 (off panel): Shhh! Independence Day Greg: Looks late 20s. Brown hair, slightly flipped-up bangs. Glasses. Maybe a slight goatee... He’s, of course, incredibly handsome in his own offbeat way. Wait a minute, this is starting to sound familiar... Understated clothes. Wears shorts on July 3, cargo pants on July 4 with slightly different colored plain t-shirts. Dan: Looks early 30s. Neuvo West Village. Hispanic, dark brown hair, close-cropped. Soul patch. Broad shoulders, big arms, obvious gym-boy. Think Diesel. Button-up shirt, unbuttoned in all the fashionable places, and shorts (good legs, of course). Tal: Early 30-something from North Carolina. Think indie-rock Brooklyn. Bushy red hair. Generic dark-blue numbered t-shirt that looks like it should have a sports team’s name on it, but doesn’t. Kinda skinny, kinda tall. Think Urban Outfitters. T-shirt and jeans. Page 1 Panel 1: First narrative tier. Two panels. Greg’s apartment. Greg sits on folded futon, phone cradled to his ear, VCR control in his hand. Panel 1 wider. SFX: (On page/panel border) rrring Cap: Thursday, July 3, 9:55 pm Greg 1: (Into phone) You are soooo late. “Boy Meats Drama Queen” is on in ten minutes, so get your... Greg 2: (into phone) What do you mean it’s not a good idea? Panel 2: Greg holds the phone down in one hand, while cradling his head in the other hand. His boyfriend has hung up. Greg: (low) Why are you doing this? Panel 3: Tier 2. Three panels. Greg on folded futon, torso only, hasn’t changed clothes. Lights off. Staring off into space looking sad. (There should definitely a tightening of the shot in these panels, focusing more on Greg’s face and he goes through the various emotions: confused/sad, depressed/resigned, angry). Cap: Friday, July 4, 12:10 am Panel 4: Tighter shot of Greg on folded futon. He looks more resigned depressed. His eyes are still open, but slightly more tired looking. Cap: 2:23 am Panel 5: Focus on Greg’s face. He’s still on futon. His eyes are tired, bloodshot, and looking away from the the panel, obviously kinda angry. Cap: 5:54 am Panel 6: Tier 3. 1 panel. Wide shot of Greg half asleep on futon (still folded), picking up phone. SFX: (Breaking left panel border as above.) rrring Cap: 10:12 am Greg 1: (soft, sleepy) hello? Dan (on phone) 1: Sources say that you’re likely to spend the long weekend reading Keats and eating Chunky Monkey in the dark. Greg 2: Yeah kinda... Dan 2 (on phone): So meet me for brunch... Panel 7: Tier 4. 2 panels. Dan and Greg at Indigo Diner (Adventures in Chelsea). Greg looks depressed, but better than before. They’re eating. Cap: 11:33 AM Greg 1 : it’s just that I was crazy about him... Dan 1: And he was just crazy... Greg 2: Yeah Dan 2: You going to be okay? Greg 3: I dunno. Panel 8: Focus up toward the tops of their heads. Dan 1: You’ll mope yourself to sleep tonight, so no use doing it all day. Greg 1: Why not? Dan 2: Cause there’s a sale at Lola Rhythm Greg 2: Okay... Greg 3: But no show tunes... Page 2 Panel 1: Top tier, 1 panel. Lola Rhythm Music Store. They’ve been joined by Tal who is flipping through CDs, while Greg rest on his shoulder. Dan is not far away. Tal 1: So this is how many time he’s dumped you? Greg: Twice. Dan: (muttering) Twice this month Panel 2: 2nd tier. Two panels. First panel. Same setting, close up on Greg giving Dan a dirty stare. Dan, knows he’s said something wrong and looks penitent. Panel 3: Greg smirks slightly as Dan changes the topic. Tal reaches over to pat Greg on the shoulder. Dan: ... is there Cher in the bargain bin? Tal: And here I thought you were a top. Panel 4: Tier 2, 2 panels. 1st panel. Dan and Tal start to bicker, but not seriously. Greg looks on with increasing amusement. Dan: And what does that John Mellencamp thing make you? Tal: Well, Mr. Greatest Hits of Shirley Bassey, I prefer the word versatile. Panel 5: Continuing. Dan: Sure you don’t mean “flexible”? Tal: Versatile! Panel 6: Tier 4. 1 panel. Wider shot -- Continuing, Greg outright smiling as he watches them. Dan: Oh versatile... you can do it on your back, doggy style... Tal: I love you so much... Bite me! Page 3 Panel 1: Tier 1. 2 panels. Wandering around in SoHo. Greg’s looking a little glum/solemn again. Cap: 5:30 pm Dan 1: So I’m thinking snack. Tal 1: It’s almost time for supper... Dan 2: Exactly, let’s stop here. Panel 2: Close up of sign. Logo of Otter holding an ice cream cone. Sign: Gel’Otter: Fight Global Warming! Tal: (0ff panel) Ice cream?! Dan: (off panel) Shh... We’re in SoHo!!! Panel 3: 2nd tier. 1 panel. View of Tal and Dan, Greg looks off panel with curiosity. Tal’s face is mock aghast at his faux pas. Neither is looking Tal 1: Sorry... gellato! Greg 1: (soflty) Guys.... Dan 1: You’re going to get our unfashionable asses kicked Greg 2: (regular tone) uh guys... Tal 2: Hemp nut delight? Cocoa paprika sorbet? Greg 3: Guys... What’s that? Panel 4: Two tiers of panels of alternating close ups and establishing shots of the weird robot-costume July 4th parade. One panel should have pictures of a woman and two young men in silver body paint with some kinda metallic leather pants, and funky headgear of some sort, one beating a drum, the other two waving blank flags. Panel 5: Close up of Greg looking on, Dan standing over his shoulder. Greg’s grinning. Dan looks bewildered. Dan: Some kind of July 4th parade thing? Panel 6: Man peering out from the chest of a robot costume, the head of the costume attached to his back. He holds the wands for long spindly puppet arms. Panel 7: (Second tier) Wide shot of several other people in robotic costumes (and otherwise scantily clad to escape summer heat), walking down the street, at least one juggling. Panel 8: (narrower than previous panel) Close up of Greg , as above. He’s smiling widely. Greg: Man, I love New York. Page 4 Panel 1: Top tier, 1 panel. The three ar heading into a bar, rear shot of them going in. Greg looking in as the others hold the door. Sign: Moonlight Lounge Greg: Kinda slow... Dan: Kinda early... Cap: (right side of panel) 10:25 Panel 2: 2nd tier, 3 panels. The three are sitting at a small table, Tal and Dan flanking Greg. Closer up on Tal and Greg. Tal leans into to Greg, discretely indicating someone off panel. Tal: I think he’s checking you out. Panel 3: Close up on handsome dark-featured guy (Arabic or Southeast Asian features) across the bar whose looking toward Greg (off panel) flirtatiously. Panel 4: Back to the three, closer up on Dan and Greg. Greg looks dubious. Greg: I think if I flirted with anyone I’d get physically ill. Dan: I think you should test that hypothesis. Panels 5-8: Tier 3. These bounce back between the dark-featured guy and Greg. In panel 5, the guy is looking to Greg with a slight sly smile. In the next, Greg is looking back at him smiling bashfully. In 7, the guy looks over at Greg with a more warm, genuine smile. In 8, Greg looks down and bites his lip. Panel 9: Tier 4, 1 panel. Wider shot of panel 8, Greg in same position, looking a little more dejected. Dan and Tal look on, Tal’s hand on Greg’s shoulder. Greg: Maybe I should just head home. Tal: I’ll walk you. Page 5 Panel 1: Top tier. 2 panels. Greg and Tal are entering Greg’s studio. Greg is turning on the lights. Cap: 11:17 pm Tal: Home safe and sound. Greg: And alone. Panel 2: Greg sits on his folded futon, starts taking off his shoes. Tal sits beside him. Tal: Gonna be okay? Greg: Yeah. Wanna have brunch tomorrow? Panel 3: Tier 2. Two panels. Continuing. Tal smiles, pats Greg’s shoulder. Tal: Sure. I’m gonna get going... Call me? Greg: You got it. Panel 4: Greg and Tal are at the door. Hugging, Tal on his way out. Both smile. Greg 1: Love you, Tal! Tal: Love you, too, G. Greg 2: Call me that again and I punch you. Panel 5: Tier 3, 2 panels. Greg lies down on the unfolded futon couch, looking exhausted but less stressed, lights back out. His eyes open. Cap: 11:32 pm Panel 6: Closer up on Greg, his eyes half closed, shirtless. Looking slightly more relaxed. Cap: 11:56 pm Panel 7: Last tier. 1 panel. Greg lies stretched out on his futon, completely asleep. Cap: Saturday, July 5, 12:11 pm A little hellion Militant Vegans NAMBLA Members Greens The Pope Objectivists River Styx Parents who bring squalling brats to R-rated movies River Phlegyas Scientologists Republicans George Bush Chapter 2, Part 1 Two Shy Guys Two Shy Guys, Chapter 1 Two Shy Guys Chapters: Desk Jobs 7th Avenue Stalker Saturday Morning After Two-Girl Action PATH Train Pick-Up Part 1: Desk Jobs Characters Craig: As ever, his sweet adorable self. Wade: Mid 40s, buff. Gray hair, mature, handsome face, but with a certain je ne c’est quoi that screams “I’m a total bitchy asshole to work for.” Around 5’8” and 200+ lbs. Wearing the latest buff-queen fashions, but not quite qualifying as a fashion victim. Walter: Taller and slightly less muscular than Wade, around 6’ and 180. Shaved head, goatee. Like Wade, he has that look that says, “I should be an incredibly hot older man, but obviously, I’m a jerk.” Big time fashion victim. Page 1: Let’s work with a landscape page, three tiers with a tic-tac-toe layout (nine total panels, approximately equal) Panel 1: 1st tier. Craig chewing a pencil eraser, staring at a blank page Background Signage: W. O. Media Cap (lower): Oh, the life of a magazine assistant... Panel 2: Office clock, b&w, pointing to 2:10 pm. Cap (upper, slightly different color from the other caps): Friday Panel 3: Craig sitting at his desk, marking up a manuscript. Closer up. Craig (to himself): Hmm.... “Deeper, yes. Harder, now!” or “Deeper--yes! Harder... now!”? Cap: Proofreading... Panel 4: 2nd tier. Clock at 3:30. Panel 5: Craig on phone. Craig: So a quarter page for “Delivery Dudes and Dirty Dads”? Cap: Ad sales... Panel 6: Clock pointing to 4:15. Panel 7: Tier 3. Craig holding two photos in front oh him, contemplating. We shouldn’t see the photos (this is a family strip after all...) Craig (to himself): Boston Train in the shower or Snoop Sluttz with his finger... Cap: Page layouts... Panel 8: Clock pointing to 5:02. Panel 9: Craig wincing as two voices emerge from off panel. Wade (off panel): Craig, dear! Walter (off panel): Craig, darling? Cap: Editors... Page 2: Large page, 1 panel. Panel 1: Craig tries to look pleasant as his bosses (Walter sitting in a chair with his feet on Craig’s desk, Wade perched on a desk corner) grill him. Wade 1: Proof the porn reviews? Craig 1: Done. Walter 1: Fact check the sex club expose? Craig 2: Of course... Wade 2: And the centerfold’s photo credits? Craig 3: In your box. Walter 2: Tease! Title: (Black text on white background. Something bold and sans) Desk Jobs Subtitle:(as above, but smaller) Chapter 1 Page 3: Background panel of Craig forcing a smile as he listens to them. Close up. Two smaller panels arranged across the bottom. Panel 1: Background panel. The balloons in this panel should look like something that’s being hurled at Craig. Wade 1 (off): Alright dear, we’re off to Hotlanta at 7:00... Walter (off): We were supposed to leave at noon, but someone... Wade 2 (off): Anyway, before we go we wanted to talk to you about that short story you gave us for Thong. Panel s 2 & 3: Two floats in the lower left corner of the background panel, 3 in the lower right. In 2, Wade talking, waving his right hand as he does so. In 3, Walter talking, holding up hands to show how much he loved the story.Close up. Wade 2 should be lower than the speech balloon in Panel 3, showing it comes later... Wade 1: Loved the prose. Walter 1: And such a sweet plot! Wade 2: But the characters? Walter 2: Look kid, we gotta talk... Page 4: Similar to page 3, but Craig looks even more forced, his hand tapping his chin in faux contemplation of what his bosses are saying. The floating panels are to his left. Panel 1: Background panel. Panel 2 & 3: As page 3, but both look more serious, more in counselor/boss mode. Two on top of three. Wade 1: Craig, honey, Thong attracts a certain type of reader. Wade 1: The kind that can spend their weekends in Miami having up-all-night eight-ways with body builders... Walter 1: They aren’t going to get hard ons over skinny nerds with glasses. Walter 2: Or chest hair... Walter 3: Ew. Craig (in background panel) 1 (to himself): I quit. Craig (in bground panel) 2: I’ll redo it for Monday. Page 5: Three long tiers, staggered. More white space between the second and third tiers. Panel 1: Tier 1, 2 panels. Wade looking over Craig’s desk (a Craig’s-eye-view, if you will). Wade: Don’t be absurd, dear, Walter won’t detox from the Tina till Tuesday. Panel 2: Wade looking over Craig’s desk (again, a Craig’s-eye-view). Walter: Bitch. Panel 3: Second tier, a rear view of the terrible two exiting. Wade 1: If you need us, you have the cells. Walter 1: Don’t break the fake smile and flip us off till we’re out the door! Wade 2: Have some fun... Walter 2: But not too much... Deadline Tuesday! Panel 4: Long view, upper shot view of Craig reclining in his desk chair, almost parallel to the length of his desk, grabbing his hair in frustration. Craig (to himself): I need a real job. Page 6: Three staggered box panels, each with a different scene from Craig’s walk home. Panel 1: Craig walking through lower Greenwhich Village toward Washington Square, looking a tad frustrated. Cap 1 (Craig): I could take the subway, but I’m not sure right now what I’d rush home to... Cap 2: And Greenwhich Village always manages to calm me down... Panel 2: Craig, having checked his mail, is sorting through it on the way upstairs. Cap 1: I guess could spend tonight looking for a job. Cap 2: I’ve been meaning to do that for a while... Cap 3: But I keep putting it off. Panel 3: Close up of Craig's hand setting the mail next to Brian's phone number next to the phone and other sundries on the night stand. Cap 1: Been putting a lot of things off. Cap 2: Of course, it'd be kinda rough making that call at this point. Cap 3: "Hi Brian? You dropped your phone number on the ground at F-A-G two months ago and I've finally got the balls to call you..." Page 7: Background panel has Craig looking into a fridge in the lower left corner, making a face. Two other box panels are diagonal, from left. Panel 1: Close up of roommate’s note stuck to fridge with a Scooby Doo magnet. Note: Craig: Went to Philly for the weekend. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do! -- Terry Cap: Friend’s are out of town... Panel 2: Craig’s face, extreme close up, as seen in the dimly lit kitchen looking into the fridge. Cap: And if I stay home, I’ll just spend all night snubbing weirdos in chat rooms. Craig (to himself): Hmm... What’s in this... Panel 3: Background panel. Craig (to himself): Ew... I should go out to eat. Cap 1: So it looks like another night on the town. Cap 2: By myself. Cap 3 (lowest right-hand corner): Don't get too excited. More of Broken Up on the Fourth of July Page 4 Queer Adventures: Firstborn, P 1 Page 1: Helos speaks in the captions from off panel throughout. The scene is a poshly sleazy bar/cafe in Trevor’s Port. The kind you go to find posh-but-sleazy young men and women who’ll do it for cash. It’s visibly daytime though, so not very busy. Tyre approaches a very young, waifish twink whose dressed like a bad sci-fi boy queer whore stereotype. The buy is obviously in awe of Tyre, whether from some sort of Daddy fantasy or Daddy anxiety. Tyre enjoys the attention and takes the kid back to his place, where the sex gets progressively rougher and more brutal, despite the young man’s protests. Eventually, we see Tyre freeze, then blood trickle out of his orrifices. He collapses on top of the younger man who’s wimpering for help. Cap: Trevor’s Port Cap: By now, there is something of the Firsters in over two-thirds of the “human” population. Tr: I haven’t seen you around here before. [Boy stares at him] Cap: 250 years ago, you could still think it odd to meet two 3gers on the same day. Tr: Is this the kind of place you’d want your mother to see you? Cap: Today, you do good to tell a kid with 3ger from a mun. Tr: You look like a talented boy. Tr: And I’m a man in the mood for entertainment. Tr: Let us talk business. Cap: Which is fine with me. It means firsters have an easier time blending in. Cap: Which can be good, because when you live as long as we do... Cap: A lot of people want you dead. Boy: Help Page 2 Helos leans over the edge of a tower about 5-10 stories above ground. After ruminating about Tyre’s death and his own horniness, he spots two small but stealthy men sneaking up on a much larger man (Zed). All shots of him are close ups, not giving a good shot of the wings behind his back. As he dives to rescue the muscular stranger we see his wings spread. As he gets closer, we see him strike out at one thug and knock the other out with some sort of electric shock. He lands on his feet, very close to Zed, smiling. Cap: When a firster dies, news travels fast. Cap: Faster when it happens on the same planet you downloaded to the night before. Cap: And don’t get me wrong. Tyre was a shit who’d been fucking over known space since before I got branded. Cap: And that was 376 years ago. Cap: But Tyre was a firster... Cap: And we firsters aren’t even supposed to die. Cap: So now I’m so confused all I can do is get horny. Hls: (thinking) Just my type. [Dives on Zed’s] Cap: I shouldn’t really call this much attention to myself. Cap: And sometime when your horny... Cap: ...chivalry is your best bet. [Spars with Zed’s attackers, knocks them out...] Zed: I take it you’re Helos? Hls: Yes, but most people just call me “captain.” Zed: Just as well, I’m looking for you on business. Page 3 They sit at a table in the same bar where Tyre met the boy. Zed: Your friend Tyre died here. Hls: You’re using the word “friend:” loosely. Zed: I’m interested for professional reasons. I assumed your interest would be personal. Hls: So before people hire me, I usually insist on a given name. Zed: Zed, Captain. So let’s get down to business. Hls: Used to doing business at Mon Raiya’s. Zed: I don’t often do business in Trevor’s Port, but the last time I did I was 21 and I conducted all my transactions here -- in cash. Hls Popular? Zed: I had my regulars. Hls: Reminiscing or resuming an old trade? Zed: I thought we were discussing business. Hls: We are: Is it me you want or my ship? Zed: I’m heading to Magrin. Your crew has a unique talent set. And I hope you’ll be coming, too. Zed: Professionally speaking, that is. Page 4 They leave Quentin’s, and walk down the street, eventually stopping at a communications terminal. Zed: So you have been to Mon Raiya’s before? Hls: Mon Raiya’s has been around a long time. And I too was once a young man in need of cash. Zed: I know how old you really are captain. You were young a long time ago. Hls: And I was young for a very long time. Hls: I bought the Osprey off what I made at Mon Raiya’s. Zed: Which brings us to the subject of money. Hls: Yes, the Osprey doesn’t hire cheap and neither do I. Zed: Earth credit still good? [proffers a card full of numbers] [Helos regards him suspiciously, stops to speak into a communications terminal] Hls: Patch me through on an orbital link through to the Osprey, connecting to this code. [Types] Jsy: This is the Osprey, captain. Hls: Joasey, got some credit numbers to check. Zed: New client, captain? Hls: Well since he doesn’t want into my pants, Jo, client will have to do. Jsy: No accounting for tastes, captain. Running the numbers now... Jsy: [Pause] Impressive... Hls: Good? Jsy: Very. Hls: Well put us through to the gate for a jump to Magrin tomorrow, Jo. Level B will do if nothing else is available. Have Dex meet me at my hotel tomorrow and Davis meet Mr. Zed Walker at his. And send down to the the Free Zone for something fun. We’re leaving tomorrow morning. Page 5 In a shuttle going out to the Osprey. The next day. Dex: Damn shuttles never move fast. Zed: Sorry, Dex. I’m not sure I can handle a pod. Dex: Nah, client’s always right, Mr. Walker. Hls: Joasey come in? Jsy: Morning captain. Hls: Coffee brewing? Jsy: [grins] Sorry, captain. Brought some local boys up by pod last night. We were just finishing up a second round. Jsy: ... In your honor, of course. Dex: So no coffee? Jsy: I’m sure the crew has some going. Hls: Do I pay them enough that they’d have something drinkable. Jsy: No, but I let them swipe from your stash. Hls: Good girl. Will we make our jump schedule? Jsy: With time to spare. Just got to dropload the boys by pod, grab your shuttle and we’re gone. Hls: Good, we’re still... SFX (from over com link): Bwah bwah Jsy: Mother F... Hls: Joasey? Jsy (from over com): Who’s watching the core? Get me some to engine core... [Static - Silence] Dvs: I’ve got that visual from a probe, Captain. {Helos, jaw locked, looks at the Osprey exploding] Breaking up on the the Fourth of July Ben Boing Boing: A Directory of Wonderful Things Charlie's Diary Who is Charlie Stross? I've no idea, but after reading his blog, I want to know. I really do. Please? The Muses Chapter 1: Marina Cardinal Miltiades There are ten things the cardinal is thinking when she sits getting her hair brushed this morning. The first is that she is indeed grateful that this morning's breakfast will finish off the wine barrel that the pious Duke of Merryn... no, Troelling, the Duke of Troelling... has sent her in return for her intercessions on behalf of the people of his dominion. She had, in fact, like most of the Catholic cardinals on the continent (except for, no doubt, the Very Most Reverend Queen and Bishop of Alderburg, who, in her goodness forgets no praying Christian) forgotten to intercede for the people of the Merryn (no... no... Merryn was a principality... it was Troelling), and the fact that the armies of the his brother, the usurper had been easily starved out of their hiding places in the Southern Mountains had been merely a mysterious coincidence or an unheralded grace, or a tribute to the intercessory power of his brother's abandoned wife, the Abbess of Pernault. In any case, the wine was bitter and dull, but the grateful reception of all gifts had been part of her personal rule, even when in juxtaposition to her personal tastes. The second is "Enter not into judgment with your servant, for in your sight shall no one living be justified." The second is: I am an old woman. The second is: I do not feel it in my bones. I do not see it in my face. I cannot mark out the spaces in my mind where thought come slowly because it still cuts sharp as cold iron. It is only that I am wondering if now is a good time to begin to be afraid. It is just that I am feeling like I will be tired very, very soon, but not yet. The second is: "I stretch forth my hands unto you. My soul gasps unto you as a thirsty land." The third is that Sister Margaret is pulling tight on the knots in her hair, which tangles, the cardinal thinks, as it grays. The fourth is that she has slept through lauds and does not want to pray the office that is written out for the hour of prime. That she does not want to think of the First Hour: Pilate in the judgment seat. She does not wish to think of mortals in judgment seats, making practical decisions and practical times. She does not want to think about the strange everyday decisions that contribute to the death of God. She will have to make those decisions later. The fourth is that she does not, right now, want to be Cardinal Miltiades this morning. She wonders what the sisters of the Cathedral would think if their Archbishop stood in front of the altar on which rested the Sacred Body and opened her in meaningless syllables or wordless songs like a common Babbler cultist. Would they become Babblers to follow her? Would the Babbling Followers celebrate the conversion of the great Cardinal Miltiades and make her a priestess of their rite? Would the rioting consume Magrin? Would there be Holy Synod convened, and the Bishop Queen summoned from Aldersburg to hear her argument? And all because she did not, this morning, wish to contemplate that damnable, practical Pilate? The fifth is that two guildprinces, at least one will be a merchant, she surmises, and the Chief Rabbi of Magrin and, she suspects, the Virtuist hierophant, will be coming to her this afternoon to take up with her how she will cast her vote in the matter of the city's charter. The Viscount's emissary brought her honey cakes and a very fine white sherry on yesterday evening. She told him that she did not know how she would vote, but that she would earnestly request his lordship's earnest prayers (his lordship was a Severist) that godly wisdom would guide her thoughts on the matter. She wonders what the merchants princes will bring. The sixth is that she did not dream last night, and perhaps her meeting today and her earnest quest to discern their meaning has soothed the visions. She wonders if the powers who are relegated to the carrying of visions are aware of the disturbances they cause. She recalls that visions are shadows that come in darkness. She contemplates that the devil was the light carrier of divine, and that thus, it is perhaps wise to trust visions. She wonders if she is now becoming a Towerist, who contemplate the meaning of the divine darkness: "By night we cry to You" says the mother of each tower at the moonsetting prayer. The sixth thing she is thinking is: "and God separated the light from the darkness." The sixth thing she is thinking is: "I am seeing shadows dancing over shadows, but if I turn on the light, the shadows vanish. Those are my dreams. If I only I were like Joseph's Pharaoh, and I might scour my dungeons and find someone waiting to tell me what they mean." The seventh is that they have sent Sister Angela to attend her. The sister has skin that is almost brown, almost bronze. Her hair is black. Her hips are wide, almost as if she were carrying jars of oil bound to each one -- hips you cannot hide under the most modest of robes. Her shoulders, too. The cardinal thinks: Yes, she is like no angel they have ever painted... Perhaps she is Raphael, and when it is time she will carry my soul on those shoulders to heaven. The eighth is: "Am I heretic? Will they call a synod and pronounce me one when I die?" The ninth is "Does Lailelle have everything made ready? Of these women, who can a woman of my position trust?" Yes, she keeps thinking, everything gets tangled as it grays. The tenth is that Rose Kebble died half naked, starving, and frozen last December at the solemn mass in the High Cathedral of St. Andrew in Aldersburg. She found, only yesterday, a letter that Rose had written her twenty-five years before. She wept, then burned the letter before she could read it again. She would pray for Rose's soul, and pray Rose's soul prayed for her. Sister Justice finishes her combing and begins twisting gray hair into braids. The cardinal is a woman of great power, she thinks to the young sisters who she decides are frivolous. The cardinal is a woman of great holiness, thinks the young novice with the fair skin and pale read locks coming out from behind her wimple. To think I only know it now: The cardinal is a woman of great passion, thinks the soul of Rose Kebble who might be here, or might be haunting the High Cathedral of Alderburg, or might be nowhere, or might be praying in Heaven. They have affixed her red cap. She rises. She walks toward the stairs. As she nears the crucifix in the foyer of her chamber, she genuflects, as is her habit, and the sisters kneel behind her. She speaks the first words of the morning: "O sweet Jesus, who in silence faced the judgment of Pilate so that our souls may know only your mercy as their judge, lead us today that all our actions may be just and bring us to life eternal." And the church, living and dead, says "amen." Chapter 1: Davis Arvin In Magrin, The Feast of Saint Constance, September 18, In the 926th year of the Concord of Aldersburg, called the Common Reckoning I am out of work, and I am beginning to wonder, just for the sake of wondering, if there is anything truly different between selling one's body and selling one's skills. In both transactions, your client takes some time to utilize something you hold dear in exchange for cash. These are moot points for me, though. I am far past being able to command the prices for my body I once did, and I am far past looking for higher causes to utilize my skills. But I wonder if there is any great moral difference between the bed whore I was ten years ago (and more) and the wayfarer freeman I am now. I am in the yard of the Wayfarer's Hall. It is where free members and company leaders alike gather to await clients when all other avenues of employment are exhausted. The summer has been quiet. Banditry is almost forgotten. The highways are well patrolled. The roads are well kept. And if things continue as they are, I will be spending a good deal of time in this crowd: mercenaries, scouts, guides, trackers, treasure hunters, bounty hunters, intelligence specialists... If it involves travel, weaponry, security, or information, you want a wayfarer -- at least that's what we say. Unfortunately, no one seems to agree. I rise because Karken, his highness, has entered, what's left of his company, Karken's Wolves, in tow, returned from the border skirmish in Denton (in which the Wayfarer mercenaries Magrin were but a small price to ensure Lord Denton of his continued control of the northern fieldlands). Thirteen of his thirty were left in the ground in Denton, and even he has a scar I've not ever seen. Karken is a guildprince (the youngest not only among us, but throughout all the tradeguilds of the city), though, unlike most of his lot, he is not above waiting in the yard to find work for his company. I can handle a sword, and, in theory, since Karken is a guildprince and a master, and as I am a free journeyman, I could request a place from him. But though I can handle a sword, Karken's clientelle need warriors, and I am known widely as a scout and guide -- and discretely as a... broker of otherwise private information. Of course it crosses my mind: Is it possible Karken needs a whore more than a scout? I bedded a monk once (professional obligation). Since I could read and had no plans to find a wife, he wondered why I had not monked myself. And I told him: "Good father, I do fine. I work for my board. and earn my keep." To which he shrugged and replied: "Good son" (his face was younger than mine) "I take board and keep in order to be able to do my work." Karken nods at me, and for a second I wonder if he is summoning me for conversation, perhaps, or possibly even a job, but I realize I've been staring, and he is politely calling my attention to it while politely not taking offence. Though it is not as enticing as I had hoped, it could be worse: Journeymen, especially free journeymen who find work largely through the good opinion of the guildprinces and company masters, must work especially to avoid offending them. "Davis Arvin?" says a voice, and I realize there is a hand attached to my shoulder in that way that will look friendly, even familiar, to those nearby, but makes it uncomfortable, even painful, for me to look up and see who I am speaking to. The voice is feminine, if deep, and had a certain sneer. "At your service," I whisper. "Are you sure? I was told Davis Arvin was the master of subtlety and discretion." "Indeed he is." "And yet he gapes at a handsome guildprince with all the subtlety and discretion of a dead fish in a rosebush." "Ah, mistress, but I was not under employment -- one in my business cannot afford practicing his trade for free." "Fair enough... then my lady has work for you, and you will find her offer most generous I trust. Come to the House of the Golden Boar on Grand Street at half past one. Tell the propreiter who you are and that you are expected on the private terrace for lunch." "But who?" "Discretion, Arvin. Subtlety and discretion." And with a small pat on the arm, the owner of the voice gone and another pat on the shoulder sends me shooting to my feet. But this time it is Karken. "I was just at the gate, Arvin, the porter said someone left a token for you." He presses a small bronze coin into my hand, marked with the device of a small crescent supporting a stone tower wrapped in a cloth. "He couldn't say who?" I am still surprised by the man's presence. "Many thanks to your highness," I said and made a slight bow. He started to turn. "Pah. Don't mention it at all, Davis. I was going to come and see you anyway -- will you be in the hall this evening." "I can be, why?" "Come to my company's rooms for supper. I've no business for you right now, but I've heard good things about your work." "I will be there -- seven o'clock?" "It's good enough," he answers. I turn to go and get ready for my appointment. "And Arvin?" "Your highness?" He points to the coin. "Be careful of the Shrine and Tower." "I have a history with them, your highness," I reply. "They're good clients." He shrugs. "All the same, be careful. One hears things. Tonight?" I nod, and am off.
Prelude: An End Both of them see this, and each thinks, "I have been lost in a dark field my whole life, and now it is as if lightning has flashed across the sky." And then one thinks: "What beauty. Yes. I have found myself, I know where I am." But the other thinks: "No, too much. And now it's gone, and I am more blind than before." |
