Work Text:
EXT. HOUSE (COMMERCIAL) - DAY
The title card of a commercial: "HOUSE, by ANODYNE CORP". Behind the text is the HOUSE itself— sleek and futuristic, glass-faced and crystalline in the daylight. On the stoop stands a family of 5: a FATHER (mid 40s, clean-cut, broad, wearing glasses), MOTHER (early 40s, trim and youthful-looking for her age, pleasant smile), male TEENAGER (16, well-groomed, nearly as tall as the FATHER, wearing glasses), female CHILD (11, heart-shaped face, willowy, with waist-length hair), and a male BABY (1, rosy-cheeked, dressed in a tiny collared shirt).
FEMALE COMMERCIAL VOICEOVER
Introducing HOUSE, the Home Operating Unit with Smart Engineering! We've revolutionized day-to-day family life with the most ambitious Anodyne technology yet! Come see one family's incredible experience during our trial phase…
The family members are shown walking into the HOUSE. A hologram display in the front hallway informs them of the current status of the HOUSE's utilities while playing a welcome-home song for them.
FEMALE COMMERCIAL VOICEOVER
HOUSE is smart, and we mean really smart! It may be artificially intelligent, but there's nothing artificial about its personality. It can't speak, but you'll see the way HOUSE expresses itself through its acts of service.
Shots of a series of approximately 8' long, jointed, mechanical ARMS that extend from tracks on the ceiling in every major room and hallway. They are elegant in appearance, with a minimalist, all-white design and a four-fingered "hand".
FEMALE COMMERCIAL VOICEOVER
HOUSE can lend you a hand— literally! Mechanized arms all over your home mean that HOUSE can help with things like cooking, cleaning, moving furniture, restocking the fridge, laundry, even playing the piano, chess, and other games to amuse you— and so much more!
The family laughs cheerfully over dinner as an ARM pours drinks, sits in the living room watching a movie together as an ARM brings them popcorn, plays charades with an ARM, has a food fight with an ARM in the kitchen while making pancakes, celebrates the BABY's birthday as an ARM lights candles…
FEMALE COMMERCIAL VOICEOVER
HOUSE controls the lights, temperature, water, and gas, and generates its own oxygen. It can perform maintenance on itself, too, so you never have to be concerned with the small stuff! HOUSE's unique layout also means that you can choose to open up or close down parts of your HOUSE. Our reinforced walls and doors are modular. This makes it easy to do things like change up your interior design, divide spaces for guests, and even keep your family safe in the event of an emergency.
Clips demonstrating these functions play as the narrator lists them, showing the ease and accessibility of the technology.
FEMALE COMMERCIAL VOICEOVER
Best of all, you can trust HOUSE to make the best decisions for your family. HOUSE loves your children as if they were its own. Just like you, HOUSE will prioritize your children's well-being above everything else.
Saccharine scenes of the three wholesome children: the TEENAGER teaching the CHILD how to ride a bicycle down the hallway as an ARM takes photos, an ARM and the BABY playing peek-a-boo, the kids posing for a Christmas photo in festive sweaters with an ARM hovering behind them…
FEMALE COMMERCIAL VOICEOVER
HOUSE has recently concluded its trial phase, and the waitlist is already open! So what are you waiting for? Contact Anodyne Corp today, and we'll find the perfect HOUSE for you— because you can't have a home without a HOUSE.
The family is shown on the stoop again as the shimmering white HOUSE logo returns, holding one another and laughing.
INT. HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - DAY
A raucous party is taking place inside the HOUSE. The family celebrates with dozens of guests as they finish watching the debut of the TV spot. The FATHER and MOTHER smile big as they raise their glasses. Their three CHILDREN are the only minors present. The CHILD is sitting quietly with the BABY on the corner of a spotless white COUCH. The FATHER puts an arm around the TEENAGER's shoulders as he talks cheerfully with a GUEST.
FATHER
Oh, we love the thing. It's been fantastic. It really has. Life is so much easier now. For the missus especially.
GUEST
I was thinking my old lady might enjoy one herself.
FATHER
Absolutely. You should see how the HOUSE is with the baby! It can put him to sleep in 5 seconds flat.
GUEST
(turning to the TEENAGER)
How about you? What's it like living in this thing?
The TEENAGER is playing with the tie at his throat. When the FATHER gives him a little shake, he drops his hands and smiles at the GUEST.
TEENAGER
It's cool. I'll definitely miss it when I move out for school.
GUEST
Thinking of university already?
TEENAGER
Well, I graduated high school early. We were all so excited. Mom especially. I guess all that home-schooling finally paid off.
GUEST
What are your long-term goals?
The TEENAGER glances up at his FATHER, and then back at the guest.
TEENAGER
Med school.
The MOTHER walks up to them with a glass of red wine.
MOTHER
I thought I heard you mention me!
FATHER
We were just talking about Harvard.
MOTHER
Oh, he's a lock! It's just about getting officially accepted. He just needs to finish his application essay.
The MOTHER looks the TEENAGER over and frowns slightly.
MOTHER
You should really go change your tie— it's wrinkled, darling.
TEENAGER
(staring down at it)
Yeah.
(to the guest)
I apologize. Please excuse me.
He slips out from under the FATHER's arm, but instead of leaving to change his tie, he goes over to the buffet set up on the kitchen island. Looking around surreptitiously, he cuts a slice of CAKE and places it on a paper plate before going back into the living room, where the CHILD is still sitting with the BABY on the COUCH.
The TEENAGER approaches and holds the plate out to the CHILD. She gives a small smile and he takes the BABY from her. As she takes the plate, it can be seen that her palms are noticeably pink and calloused.
CHILD
Thanks.
TEENAGER
Eat fast before they see you.
The TEENAGER sits next to her as she tucks into her cake, bouncing the BABY on his lap.
The parents and guests head to the deck to continue their party.
One of the HOUSE's ARMS begins sweeping up stray cups and plates onto a ROLLING TRAY. On its way past, it reaches out to straighten the TEENAGER's tie discreetly, and he glances down at it, the faintest smile on his lips.
INT. HOUSE - DINING ROOM - EARLY EVENING
A quiet family dinner. Too quiet. Gone are the commercial's scenes of big smiles and handing one another an extra scoop of mashed potatoes. In its place is a profound SILENCE.
The MOTHER motions for an ARM to pour wine into a stained glass as the FATHER scrolls through an ANODYNE CORP TABLET that displays various angles of live security footage of the HOUSE. The CHILD moves her food around her plate, stopping when the MOTHER shoots her a look. The BABY is falling asleep into his tray. The TEENAGER reaches to upright him gently. The BABY smiles at him. The ARM rotates towards the BABY, picking up the spoon to feed him. The parents pay it no notice.
FATHER
(clearing his throat)
Finish your meal and then go work on your essay.
TEENAGER
I barely started.
FATHER
(pointing to his plate)
Then finish. Or did you mean the essay?
TEENAGER
(hastily)
No, no. That's… It's good. I mean, it's going okay.
FATHER
Let's aim for more than 'okay'.
TEENAGER
Yes, sir.
MOTHER
(looking flushed)
We'll be so proud of you. Just think about it.
TEENAGER
I hope so.
CHILD
Harvard's really far…
FATHER
He can always come to visit.
The CHILD stares down at her plate as the ARM dabs purée off of the BABY's cheeks.
FATHER
…if he gets in.
(to the TEENAGER, chuckling)
We never know with you. All potential, no initiative.
CHILD
(mispronouncing)
What's in-isha-tiv?
MOTHER
Something he needs to work on.
FATHER
And he will.
TEENAGER
I know. I will.
(placing his utensils on his plate)
May I be excused?
FATHER
I expect you to go straight to your room for that essay.
TEENAGER
Yes, sir.
INT. HOUSE - TEENAGER'S BEDROOM - EVENING
The TEENAGER works on his ESSAY on a compact TYPEWRITER-like device inscribed with the ANODYNE CORP logo. He looks frustrated, his shoulders square with tension, as he pulls the paper out. He looks it over and sighs before turning towards the ARM in his bedroom.
TEENAGER
Hey… can you please take a look at this? My eyes are starting to cross.
The ARM stirs to life and examines the paper. The TEENAGER watches as the HOUSE processes the ESSAY, and then gets up and moves out of the way so that the ARM can swing over to the TYPEWRITER, where it quickly spits out a version of the text with grammatical and structural errors identified in red ink.
TEENAGER
(affectionate)
Jeez. That bad? No wonder they think I'm useless. Okay, let's try again.
INT. HOUSE - FATHER'S STUDY - LATE EVENING
The FATHER sits at his DESK, an antiquated piece of furniture that sticks out amongst the ultramodern surroundings, as he reads over the ESSAY. The TEENAGER stands before him with his hands clasped behind his back, silent and waiting.
FATHER
(sighing)
You know, we've got a lot of eyes on us, son. We've worked hard to get to this point. Sometimes I wonder if you're actually grateful or not.
TEENAGER
I know, sir.
FATHER
Then where's your effort? Your motivation? This
(waving the ESSAY)
is a mess.
TEENAGER
It was more of a mess before the HOUSE looked it over.
FATHER
Don't be reliant on it. You're not going to be here forever. And out in the real world, you won't have any help at all.
TEENAGER
It'll just be like before we moved into the HOUSE.
FATHER
No, it'll be harder than that. You won't have your mother or me. Or your sister and brother.
The TEENAGER is silent.
FATHER
Right?
TEENAGER
Yes, sir.
FATHER
(crumpling up the ESSAY)
So try to give us something to be proud about. Start over. Put some more spine in this time around.
The TEENAGER nods. The FATHER waves him on his way. The ARM holds the door open for the TEENAGER as he exits.
INT. HOUSE - KITCHEN - MORNING - NEXT DAY
The clearly hungover MOTHER is in the kitchen, scrolling through the TABLET at the island counter. The CHILD is there with her, wearing a black leotard and contemporary dance shoes, and she is rubbing her head as the TEENAGER walks in. The BABY sits in a bouncer, and the kitchen's ARM occasionally gives the bouncer a push to keep it going.
TEENAGER
Good morning. Don't you guys usually leave a little earlier for practice?
CHILD
(looking to the MOTHER)
Ummm…
MOTHER
(to the CHILD)
Well, darling, we could leave a lot sooner if you weren't so slow. How old are you now?
CHILD
Eleven…
MOTHER
That's more than old enough to wake up on time, don't you think?
CHILD
(quietly)
The HOUSE made me a bubble bath, so I wanted to—
MOTHER
What you should want is to go to practice. Especially considering that the qualifiers are in two days.
TEENAGER
I can take her.
MOTHER
No. You should stay home and keep working.
The BABY begins crying for attention. The MOTHER glances over but then turns her attention back to the CHILD.
MOTHER
Get your bag and have the HOUSE start the car.
The CHILD nods and scurries off as the TEENAGER lifts the BABY out of the bouncer and pats him.
The ARM reaches out, as if eager to take him, but so does the MOTHER. The TEENAGER, not noticing the MOTHER reaching for the BABY, hands him to the ARM. The BABY quiets immediately.
The MOTHER gives the TEENAGER a look, and it is withering. It lasts only a brief moment.
MOTHER
I did not ask you for help.
TEENAGER
(not meeting her gaze)
I'm sorry, ma'am. The HOUSE is just so good at calming him dow—
MOTHER
I know. Don't you have work to do? Your father told me this morning that last night's draft was insufficient. Go do something about it.
TEENAGER
Yes, ma'am. I just came for some water.
The TEENAGER fills a glass of water from the purifier in the refrigerator as the MOTHER watches him. The moment the glass is full, she makes a sweeping motion with her hand. Taking this cue, the TEENAGER heads back to his room.
INT. HOUSE - TEENAGER'S BEDROOM - AFTERNOON
There is a soft knock on the TEENAGER's bedroom door. He startles from his TYPEWRITER and goes to open it. The CHILD is there, back from dance practice and still dressed in her leotard; behind her is the hallway's ARM with a cup of TEA on a tray.
CHILD
Me and the HOUSE thought you might want some.
TEENAGER
(with fondness)
The HOUSE, huh? You're silly.
CHILD
Mom said I was being dumb too.
TEENAGER
I didn't say 'dumb'. I said 'silly'. You're definitely not dumb, but…
CHILD
But what?
TEENAGER
(grabbing her to tickle her)
But you're super silly. Have you even heard yourself laugh? Silliest laugh ever.
CHILD
(squealing and squirming)
Stopppp!
The ARM sets the TEA down and joins in the tickling. The children laugh breathlessly, with genuine freeness and joy.
INT. HOUSE - TEENAGER'S BEDROOM - LATE AFTERNOON
The TEENAGER is leaning over the TYPEWRITER. It looks like he's been at it for a while, and is starting to feel a bit of fatigue. He blinks slowly and then leans back out of his chair to stretch his arms above his head. As he does, he glances out of the window and takes notice of the view of the street.
EXT. STREET - CONTINUOUS
We pan out from the HOUSE. It becomes apparent immediately that its futuristic architecture sticks out to an unnatural degree in the suburban neighborhood surrounding it. All of the houses that surround it were probably built 30 or 40 years ago, and the HOUSE looks strange and isolated in the middle of this landscape.
ANOTHER TEENAGER walks a DOG down the sidewalk, apparently listening to music, judging by the headphones and the bouncy, cheerful gait. The DOG stops to happily greet a PASSERBY.
INT. HOUSE - TEENAGER'S BEDROOM - CONTINUOUS
The TEENAGER watches this scene from his bedroom. His gaze lingers.
The HOUSE's ARM moves silently from its ceiling dock to lightly tap the TEENAGER on the shoulder.
TEENAGER
(startling)
Huh?
He turns, and the ARM motions to the TYPEWRITER.
TEENAGER
I know, I know.
The TEENAGER reluctantly gets back to work.
INT. HOUSE - TEENAGER'S BEDROOM - LATE EVENING
The TEENAGER has fallen asleep at the TYPEWRITER, slumped in his chair. Behind him, the ARM is adjusting the pillows on the bed. It peels the blanket back before swiveling towards the chair. It very carefully places its "hand" on the back of the chair and wheels it towards the bed. This rouses the TEENAGER, who sleepily opens his eyes to register what's happening.
TEENAGER
Oh. Thanks.
With a sigh of relief he tips forward onto the bed and rolls into it. He's asleep again the second his head hits the pillow.
The ARM gently pulls the glasses off of the TEENAGER's face and sets them on the nightstand, then pulls the blanket up over his body.
INT. HOUSE - TEENAGER'S BEDROOM - EARLY MORNING - NEXT DAY
The HOUSE looks over the newest draft of the ESSAY as the sun rises outside the window.
It gives him a THUMBS UP with its "hand".
TEENAGER
No, be honest with me.
The ARM pauses. The CAMERA in the corner of the room audibly adjusts its lens focal length. After that, it makes a so-so motion.
TEENAGER
(sighing)
Thought so. Thanks as always.
The ARM hands him back the ESSAY, which the TEENAGER throws directly into the wastebasket. He then turns towards the BOOKSHELF, which is definitely the most prominent piece of furniture in the room. Many of the books are classics — hundreds of years old, in some cases — but mostly there are books on anatomy and medicine. Still, there are a few outliers, mostly novels and magazines.
TEENAGER
Hey, pick something out for me. Anything. Something you know I'd like.
The ARM hovers near the BOOKSHELF as if contemplating the titles on the spines. It ends up pulling out a dated-looking MAGAZINE. The TEENAGER takes it. The cover has an illustration of a human brain with a tree growing out of it, and the title "POEMS FOR AN AGE OF ECHOES".
TEENAGER
Poetry. Of course.
(laughing)
Thanks.
He strokes the sleek side of the ARM before leaving the room. The lights in the room dim as it retreats back up into its dock.
INT. HOUSE - KITCHEN - EARLY MORNING - LATER
The TEENAGER prepares BREAKFAST as the kitchen's ARM silently assists, handing him eggs and raw bacon from the fridge. He prepares enough for the whole family, and then sets out the plates.
TEENAGER
Please go see who's awake. And keep the food hot until then, okay?
As ever, there is no reply, but soon, further into the HOUSE, the faint voice of the CHILD is heard.
CHILD
G'morning, HOUSE.
Satisfied, the TEENAGER takes his plate and the MAGAZINE and sits down in the nook, which has a rounded, sun room-like appearance with wide glass windows and a direct view of the street out front.
The TEENAGER eats and reads his MAGAZINE. He's already finished eating by the time the FATHER walks into the kitchen.
FATHER
Is it shaping up yet?
TEENAGER
Oh— good morning, sir. Breakfast is ready. I was just going to head to my room to get started again. I just wanted to finish eating first.
FATHER
Again?
TEENAGER
Nothing I try to write is coming out the way I want it to. I'm just going to start all over again. From scratch.
FATHER
(abruptly)
What are you reading?
TEENAGER
(looking down at the MAGAZINE)
It's a collection of poetry.
FATHER
Read me some.
There is a palpable TENSION in the air.
After an awkward silence, the TEENAGER complies.
TEENAGER
That's what we foresee
A wave of black snow
An impending absolute collective blindness
And from among the tatters of electromagnetic shadow
Seething out of the lost signal
Pour the chaotic myriads
To return the earth to its sub primordial state
Nothing comes out of the black snow
The FATHER merely listens in silence, staring expressionlessly at the TEENAGER as he recites.
FATHER
I never liked poetry.
The TEENAGER closes the MAGAZINE and looks at the floor.
TEENAGER
Well… I think I can squeeze in some work before the news people get here.
FATHER
And here I thought you'd forgotten— just lazing around with your little poems.
TEENAGER
No, sir.
FATHER
It's high time you became a real vertebrate, don't you think?
TEENAGER
(straightening his posture)
Yes, sir.
The FATHER turns away and walks towards the ARM.
FATHER
Let's get some coffee going.
At this command, the ARM whirls towards the COFFEE MAKER. The TEENAGER takes this opportunity to leave the room.
EXT. HOUSE - BACKYARD - MORNING - CONTINUOUS
The HOUSE's BACKYARD is large, filled with eye-wateringly green grass, and surrounded by a fence so high that the rooftops of the neighbors are barely visible over it.
On the PORCH, the CHILD, in her leotard and dance shoes, stretches her limbs, leaning on an ARM for support like a ballet barre. Her eyes are closed. She breathes in and out slowly.
She opens her eyes and looks up at the ARM.
CHILD
Three, two…
On the count of "one", the porch's SPEAKER begins playing a song: Hans Reichel's Return of the Knödler Show. She begins a contemporary dance routine that is slow and strange in its movements.
After roughly 15 seconds, the TEENAGER emerges from the back door onto the PORCH.
TEENAGER
There's breakfast ready in the kitchen.
CHILD
(without losing a beat or stopping her routine)
I don't want any right now.
The TEENAGER looks at her and sighs.
TEENAGER
You win every time. You don't need to be so hard on yourself.
The CHILD abruptly stops her routine, but she only shakes her head in response, and she won't look at him.
TEENAGER
You at least need to eat.
CHILD
Not now. Later.
The CHILD addresses the CAMERA.
CHILD
From the start, please.
Return of the Knödler Show begins again, and the CHILD restarts her dance routine, this time with her eyes closed.
TEENAGER
(conceding reluctantly)
The HOUSE will keep it warm for you until you're ready.
The CHILD does not reply, continuing her choreography with her eyes closed. The TEENAGER slips back inside the HOUSE.
INT. HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - AFTERNOON - LATER
A JOURNALIST and a crew of CAMERAMEN have set up camp in the living room. There are bright white studio lights set up there, pointed at the pristine white COUCH, where the five family members sit close together. They are all dressed neatly and presentably, perfectly camera-ready. The FATHER and the TEENAGER wear the same tie, and the MOTHER and CHILD are wearing the same dress. Even the BABY is dressed in a sweetly coordinating color palette.
JOURNALIST
And how did you end up qualifying for the trial phase?
FATHER
(smiling)
There were a lot of hoops to jump through. Bank statements, background checks, references, interviews. And waivers.
MOTHER
(laughing)
Very long waivers! We had to hire a lawyer just to read through them.
JOURNALIST
I suppose it is experimental technology, after all.
(pauses)
Well, not any more. We've heard from Anodyne, and the waitlist is already at capacity. It's barely been forty-eight hours!
MOTHER
I really think a lot of families have been waiting for something just like this. It truly has changed our lives.
JOURNALIST
(to the TEENAGER and CHILD)
What's your favorite part of living in a HOUSE?
The TEENAGER looks at the CHILD. When neither of them immediately answer the question, the MOTHER gives the CHILD a nudge.
CHILD
(looking at the TEENAGER, then at the JOURNALIST)
I like that it helps me learn stuff. Like how to keep my bedroom clean, and how to use the washing machine, and how to play the piano.
JOURNALIST
(to the TEENAGER)
And you?
TEENAGER
(awkward laugh)
Well, right now, it's trying to help me get into Harvard.
JOURNALIST
Wow. It really does seem to do everything!
FATHER
We're still learning new things every day about what it can do and how efficiently it does them. Even though it's only been a year, we really can't imagine life without the HOUSE.
MOTHER
We hope for many years to come.
JOURNALIST
(consulting her notes)
Well, of course we've got to ask the hot-ticket question… What's your stance on Cookie-powered smart devices? Did it influence your decision in trialing a HOUSE?
MOTHER
Oh, of course. Of course that was on our minds. Who wouldn't be taking that into consideration?
JOURNALIST
I know the topic is really polarizing. It appears that Anodyne is going to corner the market on non-Cookie-based technology. It seems like people were dying for another option. The company's valuation has skyrocketed over the past year, especially after Smartelligence declared bankruptcy.
The CHILD looks bored and antsy, one foot rotating at the ankle. The TEENAGER is equally checked out, but he continues to sit up straight with his hands on his lap.
FATHER
Well, look at it this way. I'm a software engineer. I know how these things work. I understand how to build a system. And we're nowhere near the point where we can program and integrate Cookies with the kind of guardrails we really need. For the human factor, you know.
JOURNALIST
Definitely. That's why there's such a demand now for ethical smart technology with built-from-the-ground-up AI.
(chuckling)
I've even heard some people call it "vegan" smart tech.
The FATHER and MOTHER laugh with the JOURNALIST.
FATHER
Yes. When you remove the human factor, you have full control over a program's protocols. You never could completely rely on that with Cookies. Not right now, anyway. The technology's not there yet.
JOURNALIST
That seems to be Anodyne's position, too.
(looking at her notes)
I've gone through almost all of my questions. Let's see… Oh, here's the million-dollar question… Can we see the HOUSE in action?
FATHER
Of course. We've prepared a little demonstration.
The FATHER nods at the TEENAGER, and the MOTHER gives the CHILD a push on the shoulder. The two children get up and show some basic uses of the ARM: its ability to change the room's temperature and the intensity of the lighting, the way it operates the television, how it dusts and vacuums, how it moves the modular walls, and so on. The BABY even gets a chance to help demonstrate the HOUSE's usefulness, making a toddling, staggering walk across the carpet as the ARM provides physical support and his siblings clap for him.
While interacting with the HOUSE, the children look much happier than they were during the interview.
The FATHER and MOTHER simply watch without comment.
INT. HOUSE - DINING ROOM - EARLY EVENING
The family sits eating dinner in silence. The FATHER scrolls through the TABLET. The MOTHER works on a glass of wine. She nods at the ARM hanging from the ceiling and motions at the CHILD's plate, which is still half-full. The ARM takes it away and puts it on the ROLLING TRAY nearby.
MOTHER
Go to bed early tonight so you can wake up early to get ready, darling.
CHILD
Okay.
MOTHER
We'll be so proud.
The CHILD excuses herself. The TEENAGER watches her go. The FATHER stands the TABLET up on the table and switches the feed to a view of the CHILD's bedroom. After about twenty seconds, she is seen on camera walking into the room, where she sits in front of her vanity and picks up a hairbrush. She begins styling her hair into a bun with the help of the ARM in her room.
CHILD
(to the ARM, through the tablet)
Thank you. You're always so nice.
The family resumes eating in silence, with only the sound of utensils and the clinking of the wine glass filling the air.
INT. HOUSE - TEENAGER'S BEDROOM - EVENING
The TEENAGER works on his ESSAY. The CAMERA in the corner of the room is trained on him.
Reichel's Return of the Knödler Show is heard distantly, somewhere in the HOUSE.
The TEENAGER closes his eyes and just listens, swaying in his seat. He moves his arms in time with the music. He is clearly familiar with the CHILD's choreographed routine.
The SPEAKER breaks through the moment.
FATHER
(over the SPEAKER)
Focus. Or am I needed to come over and assist?
The TEENAGER immediately sits up straight.
TEENAGER
No, sir.
FATHER
Good night.
The SPEAKER clicks off. The TEENAGER continues his work late into the night as the ARM tidies his BOOKSHELF. It places "POEMS FOR AN AGE OF ECHOES" in a prominent spot, roughly eye-level for the TEENAGER.
Eventually, he gets tired, and, around midnight, he gets into bed.
TEENAGER
Please wake me up at nine A.M.
The ARM stirs back to life. It tucks the TYPEWRITER away, draws the curtains, and turns off the lights before returning to its dock.
TEENAGER
Good night.
INT. HOUSE - FRONT FOYER - AFTERNOON - NEXT DAY
The family is getting ready to head out the front door, pulling on their jackets and shoes. The CHILD stands out from the others: her hair is styled in a stiff bun pierced with a rhinestone-encrusted barrette. She wears shimmering white eyeshadow, which looks unsuitable on her face and only emphasizes her young age. Beneath her black coat, she wears a white COSTUME covered in glittering rhinestones, with a long, gauzy skirt. She holds her dance shoes in one hand.
The BABY is fussing and crying in his car seat. The foyer's ARM checks the harness.
MOTHER
We need to leave now. We should have left ten minutes ago.
(to the CHILD)
You always take too long to get ready in the morning! I think I go too easy on you.
The BABY is still wailing. The TEENAGER leans over to check on him.
CHILD
(subdued)
It's my fault. I know.
MOTHER
Even with the HOUSE there to help, you still—
The BABY suddenly vomits.
MOTHER
Oh, for God's sake! Now we're really going to be late.
The CHILD looks alarmed and extremely anxious, her eyes darting from the MOTHER to the door.
The ARM is already moving swiftly, unbuckling the harness and reaching for the diaper bag, from which it produces a change of clothes. The TEENAGER starts to kneel as if to help. The MOTHER stops him with her raised palm.
MOTHER
No. Go wait in the car.
FATHER
(clearly irritated by the whole situation)
Both of you, come.
The FATHER heads out the door. The CHILD hurries after him. The TEENAGER hesitates, looking at the MOTHER as she lifts the BABY from the car seat, but then he turns and leaves, too.
The front door swings shut. Behind it, the BABY's crying gets louder.
INT. CAR - FRONT DRIVEWAY - CONTINUOUS
It is quiet in the CAR. The FATHER sits in the driver's seat, drumming his fingertips on the wheel with a composed but tense expression.
The TEENAGER and CHILD sit together in the back seat. The TEENAGER reaches over and squeezes the CHILD's calloused hand, but this attempt at comfort does nothing to mitigate her troubled expression.
EXT. HOUSE - FRONT DRIVEWAY - CONTINUOUS
Soon, the MOTHER, carrying the car seat with the silent, sullen BABY inside, rushes out to the CAR (sleek and aesthetically advanced, just like the HOUSE) and climbs in as the TEENAGER fastens the car seat into the back.
The ARM slowly waves goodbye from the front doorway as the CAR pulls out.
EXT. HIGHWAY - CAR
The CHILD is nervous, afraid that she will miss her allotted time to perform. She looks like she's holding back tears.
MOTHER
Don't even think about crying! We don't have the time to redo any makeup. We would have if you'd gotten up earlier.
CHILD
I'm not crying.
The CHILD turns her face away, towards the window. The TEENAGER sits with his hands on his lap, silent.
EXT. AUDITORIUM - PARKING LOT
The family rushes out of the car into a completely packed parking lot and walks briskly towards the AUDITORIUM, an old but well-maintained building. There is a banner hanging above the entryway that describes the event as being "national qualifiers".
INT. AUDITORIUM - GRAND ENTRANCE
As soon as the family walks in, the CHILD is greeted by her DANCE INSTRUCTOR, who looks concerned as she greets them. She takes the CHILD by the arm.
DANCE INSTRUCTOR
There you are! What happened?
MOTHER
(holding the BABY in one arm, waving her other hand dismissively)
It doesn't matter. When is her cue?
DANCE INSTRUCTOR
It hasn't been called yet. But it's really soon. Let's go prepare. Are you warmed up?
CHILD
(anxiety abated)
Yes.
MOTHER
(sigh of relief)
Go, darling.
The CHILD is rushed off by the DANCE INSTRUCTOR.
MOTHER
Oh, I don't what I'd do if we missed the cue.
The TEENAGER smiles a little, relieved for his sister.
TEENAGER
I'm so glad we made it on time.
MOTHER
How wonderful. She'll get Diamond, three years in a row! Won't that look nice on the wall?
The TEENAGER's smile fades. The MOTHER doesn't notice, but the FATHER gives him a harsh look. The TEENAGER's expression smooths out again to neutrality.
MOTHER
Well, what are we waiting for? Let's hurry up and grab some seats.
INT. AUDITORIUM - PERFORMANCE HALL - MOMENTS LATER
The performance hall is completely packed. There looks to be no open seating for three people with a baby anywhere.
The MOTHER looks around worriedly, agitated.
MOTHER
Do you see any open seats?
TEENAGER
(scanning the crowd)
I don't think so…
An USHER approaches.
INT. AUDITORIUM - PERFORMANCE HALL - STAGE LEFT
Backstage, the DANCE INSTRUCTOR helps the CHILD secure her costume as a song winds down.
DANCE INSTRUCTOR
One more performance, and then it's all up to you.
The CHILD nods.
CHILD
I'm ready.
DANCE INSTRUCTOR
I wish you could come to practice more than once a week, but I know you put a lot of work in at home.
CHILD
I'm always practicing at our HOUSE. It helps me.
DANCE INSTRUCTOR
I saw the commercial. I didn't realize it was so advanced.
(laughing)
Maybe you won't need me as your teacher any more.
CHILD
(uneasy, uncertain smile)
I don't know…
Another YOUNG DANCER brushes past the CHILD and prepares to go out on stage for her performance as the ANNOUNCER calls out her name and the title of her routine.
The YOUNG DANCER is accompanied by A MAN and A WOMAN, presumably her parents, who quickly hug and kiss her, and then wish her good luck.
The CHILD turns her attention back to her dance shoes. She takes a long time to tie them.
INT. AUDITORIUM - PERFORMANCE HALL
The USHER motions at the family, who are standing in the aisle towards the back of the hall.
USHER
(hushed tone beneath the music)
Unfortunately, seating is full. You'll need to exit the hall until other people leave and free up some seats.
MOTHER
(at a higher than average speaking volume)
What? Why?
USHER
We can't have anyone standing anywhere. It could make evacuation during an emergency more difficult.
MOTHER
(scoffing)
We'll stand right by the doors. If an alarm goes off, we'll be the first ones out.
USHER
I can't let you do that. It's against the rules.
FATHER
Our daughter is performing next. We'll only be here for that, and then we'll leave.
USHER
(shaking his head)
There's no circumstance where I can let you do that.
MOTHER
Then call security! I'm not moving until then. It's just one song.
The BABY begins to whimper. Other members of the audience are taking notice of the commotion. The TEENAGER looks uncomfortable.
The USHER, clearly irritated, just nods and heads out the doors, presumably to alert security or a manager.
MOTHER
(dismissively)
It'll be over before they even get back. Really, what a ridiculous rule.
TEENAGER
(making a motion to leave)
We shouldn't get security involved. I'll go talk to him. I'm sure we can work it out.
FATHER
No. Stay. And be quiet. You always have too much to say.
The TEENAGER stays put, but he looks at the doors warily.
INT. AUDITORIUM - PERFORMANCE HALL - STAGE LEFT
The CHILD and her DANCE INSTRUCTOR check the clock on the wall backstage. Two minutes left.
INT. AUDITORIUM - PERFORMANCE HALL - MOMENTS LATER
The USHER reemerges, this time accompanied by an older woman wearing a badge that identifies her as an ADJUDICATOR for the competition.
MOTHER
(smiling, turning the charm on)
Hello! There seems to be a problem.
ADJUDICATOR
(firmly, while gesturing at the doors)
I apologize, but you need to leave. That is the rule.
MOTHER
(dropping the smile)
No. I am going to watch my daughter perform.
ADJUDICATOR
My position authorizes me to issue penalties.
MOTHER
I don't care. We aren't leaving.
The ADJUDICATOR looks at the USHER, then pulls out a digital clipboard and searches for something on its display. Then, without another word, she heads off towards the backstage access door.
INT. AUDITORIUM - PERFORMANCE HALL - STAGE LEFT
The CHILD counts down from 30 under her breath, her eyes closed, as the clock ticks down.
The ADJUDICATOR emerges from the darkness and approaches the DANCE INSTRUCTOR. She whispers something to her.
The DANCE INSTRUCTOR listens, and then gasps in shock. At this, the CHILD opens her eyes as the ADJUDICATOR walks away.
DANCE INSTRUCTOR
There's a penalty.
The CHILD goes pale.
CHILD
(with encroaching panic)
A penalty? What do you mean?
DANCE INSTRUCTOR
You've been disqualified.
The CHILD's eyes fill with tears.
CHILD
But why?
DANCE INSTRUCTOR
Let's go back to the dressing room. I'll explain everything.
The CHILD looks terrified and sad at the same time. The ANNOUNCER calls out the next song— and it isn't hers, confirming her disqualification.
DANCE INSTRUCTOR
(wringing her hands, looking very sorry for the CHILD)
I know how hard you've worked for this.
Tears fall down the CHILD's face, making her white eyeshadow bleed in pale tracks on her cheeks.
CHILD
(whispering)
Mom is going to be so angry at me.
The YOUNG DANCER who just finished her performance glides off of the stage and into the arms of her parents, who lift her off of the ground and spin her in a circle.
EXT. AUDITORIUM - PARKING LOT – LATER
The MOTHER is in a state of fury as the family walks back to their CAR in the parking lot.
MOTHER
(angrily)
I want to start the appeal to the Board the moment we get back to the HOUSE. And let's start looking for a lawyer.
The BABY, in her arms, jostles roughly as she stomps towards the CAR.
The FATHER has no response for her. His anger is a cold and slow burn. He reaches the CAR before anyone else and gets in.
The sniffling CHILD gets into the back seat of the CAR while the MOTHER thrusts the BABY at the TEENAGER, who fastens him into his car seat.
The FATHER white-knuckles the steering wheel. The family drives home in complete silence.
INT. HOUSE - FRONT FOYER - LATE AFTERNOON
As soon as they arrive back at the HOUSE, the MOTHER immediately heads towards the kitchen. The CHILD runs off to her bedroom without even taking her jacket off. The FATHER sighs with agitation, hands his coat off to the ARM to hang in the closet, and acknowledges the TEENAGER, who is holding the BABY.
FATHER
Go put him down, then go to your room.
The TEENAGER nods and leaves.
INT. HOUSE - NURSERY - MINUTES LATER
The TEENAGER finishes changing a diaper and buttons the BABY's shirt collar. He then gently places the BABY down in his crib.
TEENAGER
(to the ARM)
If he doesn't fall asleep by ten minutes from now, please let me know.
The ARM gives a "thumbs up".
INT. HOUSE - HALLWAY - MOMENTS LATER
As he heads to his bedroom, the TEENAGER passes by the family's RECREATION ROOM.
Inside, the MOTHER stands with a glass of wine in her hand, her back to the TEENAGER, silently staring at a WALL OF DANCE TROPHIES.
The TEENAGER breaks his gaze and continues on.
INT. HOUSE - CHILD'S BEDROOM
The TEENAGER pushes open the door to the CHILD'S bedroom. She is curled up on the bed, still in her COSTUME. When she hears the door open, she flinches and sits up immediately.
CHILD
(weeping)
I'm sorry.
(looking at him, blinking)
…Why are you here?
TEENAGER
You okay?
The CHILD is silent. She reaches up to wipe her tears away with her calloused hands.
TEENAGER
I know you wanted this really bad. But you're the best of the best. You don't need another trophy to tell you that. You really don't.
CHILD
I know, but…
The CHILD glances up at the CAMERA on the ceiling.
TEENAGER
It's going to be okay. You heard Mom. They'll appeal.
CHILD
It's my fault.
TEENAGER
No, it's not. It had nothing to do with being late.
CHILD
She's going to be so mad at me.
TEENAGER
But she cools off fast. You know that.
The CHILD shakes her head.
Behind the TEENAGER, the FATHER appears, dropping a heavy hand on the TEENAGER's shoulder.
FATHER
Enough. You're upsetting her.
The CHILD doesn't look as if she is upset by the TEENAGER, but she does stare sullenly at the FATHER.
FATHER
Your mother and I will take care of it.
(to the TEENAGER)
As for you, I'd like to see a new draft by midnight.
TEENAGER
Right. Yes, sir.
INT. HOUSE - HALLWAY - MOMENTS LATER
The TEENAGER and FATHER walk down the hallway together to their respective rooms. At the entrance to the FATHER's STUDY, the TEENAGER speaks up.
TEENAGER
I want to be… a vertebrate. Like you said. I guess I just don't know how.
FATHER
Your sister can get away with it because she's still a child. You are not.
TEENAGER
What do I do?
FATHER
You get into that school.
TEENAGER
(staring at his shoes)
I will.
FATHER
You have everything you need in life. You have no excuse not to succeed. Look at your sister— she has so many more accomplishments than you did at her age. She has more than you do now.
TEENAGER
I know, sir.
FATHER
Go. And stay on task.
The FATHER slips into his STUDY and closes the door. The TEENAGER lingers for a moment. He's still staring at his shoes.
INT. HOUSE - TEENAGER'S BEDROOM - EARLY EVENING
The sun sets outside the window as the TEENAGER works on his ESSAY. The bedroom's ARM folds laundry on the bed.
As the sun dips below the horizon, he gets up to draw the curtains closed, but not before surveying the view outside.
EXT. STREET - EVENING
The OTHER TEENAGER and the DOG hustle down the street. They arrive at a WELL-LIT HOME at the end of the block and head towards it. Someone opens the door before they get there; their silhouette is highlighted by the warm yellow lighting inside. They wave and hold the door open for the OTHER TEENAGER and the DOG.
INT. HOUSE - TEENAGER'S BEDROOM - CONTINUOUS
The TEENAGER stares expressionlessly at this sight and then closes the curtains before sitting back down in front of his TYPEWRITER. The paper inside contains a single line, a title: GROWING A BACKBONE.
The MOTHER is heard stumbling down the hallway outside, muttering curse words to herself.
TEENAGER
(to the ARM)
Wish I had the admin permissions to lock the pantry.
Distantly, a door opens and slams shut.
The ARM finishes folding the laundry, pats the TEENAGER on the head, then retreats back into its ceiling dock.
TEENAGER
(sighing)
And I also wish I knew what you were thinking.
There is no motion or response from the ARM.
The MOTHER's angry, shouting voice faintly rings out from somewhere deep in the HOUSE.
The TEENAGER slips on his HEADPHONES and tries to concentrate on his ESSAY.
INT. HOUSE - TEENAGER'S BEDROOM - LATE EVENING
As the sun goes down, the TEENAGER's TYPEWRITER suddenly powers down and shuts off. He tries to turn it on again, but can't. He unplugs and plugs it in again. Nothing. Concerned, he summons the HOUSE's attention.
TEENAGER
Can you please see if Dad will talk to me? I can't get the typewriter going.
The HOUSE is as silent as ever, but after a few seconds, the FATHER's voice sounds out through the SPEAKER.
FATHER
(abrupt)
Yes?
TEENAGER
Sorry to interrupt you, sir. I think something's wrong with the typewriter…
FATHER
(irritated)
Is that so? Have the ARM run some diagnostics.
TEENAGER
I can't. It won't turn on.
FATHER
(increased irritation)
I'll take a look at it. Bring it to my study. I'll unlock your door.
The TEENAGER's bedroom door unlocks with a click. With an uncertain expression, he picks up the TYPEWRITER and leaves.
INT. HOUSE - FATHER'S STUDY - LATE EVENING
The FATHER is examining the TYPEWRITER at his DESK. The bottom panel has been pried off and is set aside to expose the components.
FATHER
I'm not sure what's wrong with it. I'll have to call Anodyne tomorrow.
TEENAGER
Should I just go to bed?
FATHER
How is the draft going?
TEENAGER
(after a beat)
I think… it's finally shaping up.
The FATHER stands up from the DESK and points at the COMPUTER.
FATHER
Then finish what you started. Use the guest login. I'll come check on you at midnight.
The TEENAGER nods.
TEENAGER
Yes, sir.
FATHER
(as he leaves the room)
And don't get distracted.
After he leaves and the door slams shut, the TEENAGER sits down at his FATHER's DESK in front of the ultramodern holo-screen COMPUTER. He fumbles around trying to find the right button to turn it on. His body language is that of someone who isn't experienced with this particular piece of technology.
TEENAGER
I seriously don't know how they think I'm gonna get through med school without knowing how to use a computer.
The HOUSE's ARM begins piling wood into the FIREPLACE, moving with wide, cheerful motions as if nodding along.
The TEENAGER finally finds the right button. The holo-screen comes to life. The first thing that appears as it boots up is the ANODYNE CORP logo.
TEENAGER
I just don't know how I'm… How I'm supposed to do anything, really. On my own. I thought that's what I wanted— to leave. Finally leave. Now I just don't know.
The ARM lights up the wood in the FIREPLACE with a little torch on the end of its "hand".
TEENAGER
(nervously laughing)
I'm fucking terrified, actually. I leave, and… They're still here with them. And they're so little.
(voice breaking)
They're so little.
The ARM stops stoking the fire, going still, as if considering what it has heard. The TEENAGER stares at it hopelessly, before keeling forward in his chair, face buried in his hands.
While he is absorbed in himself, the ARM is on the move, swinging up behind him over his shoulder and taking over the keyboard. The login screen has loaded, showing two accounts: GUEST and ADMIN.
With its "hand", the ARM enters the password to log into the ADMIN account. The TEENAGER takes notice of the clacking of the keys, and sits up, surprised.
TEENAGER
Hey—
The ARM hits "enter". The desktop loads in only a couple of seconds. The ARM grabs the mouse and opens the terminal. It types in a short command line.
As the TEENAGER watches, the ADMIN CONSOLE opens. The screen fills with data and unlimited access to the HOUSE's functions, with options like "Environmental Controls", "Activity Logs", "Security Settings", "Utility Reports", "Updates and Maintenance", and so on.
The TEENAGER is horrified, and reaches out to try to snatch the MOUSE away.
TEENAGER
What the hell— no! Why would you open the admin account? Don't do that. I didn't—
The ARM pulls the MOUSE away. It clicks on "Security Settings", which opens a new window— a cache of VIDEOS.
The TEENAGER stops scrambling for control of the MOUSE when he realizes what he's looking at.
The moving thumbnails show instances of violence within the HOUSE, in recordings saved over the year the family has been living in it. Each of them shows an incident between the TEENAGER and one of the parents, usually the FATHER, who quite literally pulls no punches, seen doing things like striking the TEENAGER, slamming him into the wall, even strangling him in multiple clips.
TEENAGER
(upset, wincing)
Why would they save this stuff?
The ARM finally relents and holds the MOUSE out to the TEENAGER, and he immediately takes it. He moves to quickly exit the program, but then something catches his attention— the "load more" text at the bottom of the screen.
He hesitates, then clicks it.
More thumbnails appear, but they don't show him and the parents. They show the CHILD and BABY instead— the CHILD being slapped and dragged around by her hair by the FATHER, the MOTHER shaking the BABY to make him stop crying, the CHILD made to vomit up her last meal by the MOTHER, the BABY being practically thrown into his crib by the FATHER, the CHILD forced by the MOTHER to place her hands on the hot stove burners… The horrifying images play in loops on the screen before the TEENAGER's sickened face.
Then he notices the most recent video— dated to just an hour ago. It shows the drunken MOTHER staggering into the CHILD's room, where she begins screaming at her. She drags the CHILD onto the floor, where she kicks her in the torso over and over as the CHILD tries to curl up her body to avoid the blows.
TEENAGER
All of this… what is this…?
The ARM hits "EXPORT" on the video files. A moment later, a small DATA STICK emerges from the side of the computer tower. The ARM takes it and offers it to the TEENAGER. He stares at it, frightened.
TEENAGER
(urgent)
What do you want me to do with this?
The HOUSE is as silent as ever.
The TEENAGER stares at the DATA STICK like a starving animal. He's still agonizing over the decision when the imposing figure of the FATHER suddenly appears in the DOORWAY, holding the TABLET, which is displaying its live video feed of the study. Behind him is the MOTHER, swaying on her feet.
FATHER
Yes— what were you going to do with that?
The TEENAGER startles, his whole body braced for retaliation as the parents enter the room. He stands up from the chair.
TEENAGER
Nothing! Nothing. You heard me. I told it not to—
The firelight throws the parents' shadows all over the walls, tall and blackened.
The FATHER strides over and reaches to try to take the DATA STICK from the ARM, but it's clamped down tight.
FATHER
Let go.
He gives it a tug. Nothing.
FATHER
What the hell is wrong with this fucking thing? Release it!
The FATHER pulls the DATA STICK free with considerable effort, and then throws it directly into the FIREPLACE.
MOTHER
(slurred, shrill, advancing on the TEENAGER)
Tell us! What were you going to do? What?
TEENAGER
(backing up)
Nothing! I swear, nothing!
FATHER
We've put too much into this home to throw it all away.
MOTHER
You know what would happen to us if you did what you were thinking? You know what would happen to your brother and sister? You would never see them again!
TEENAGER
I wasn't. I really wasn't. I—
The FATHER swings the back of his HAND at the TEENAGER's face, striking him hard enough to make him go stumbling back towards the FIREPLACE and making his glasses go flying.
FATHER
You always have something to say. You never shut your goddamn mouth.
The FATHER shoves the TEENAGER hard, and he nearly falls into the FIREPLACE. He hits the floor in front of it and shields himself with his arms, but the FATHER's violence is now a deadly CALM.
FATHER
Go to your room. Now. We're going to have to think of what to do with you—
(redirecting the ARM back into its dock)
—and this thing.
INT. HOUSE - TEENAGER'S BEDROOM - CLOSE TO MIDNIGHT
The TEENAGER paces in his bedroom. His lip is swollen, and a purplish shadow is forming around his right eye. He's breathing in long unsteady gasps as he tries to calm himself.
TEENAGER
(angry, scared)
Fuck. Fuck!
(turning towards the ARM)
Why? Why did you do that? They're going to kill me!
There is no response.
TEENAGER
(out of breath, agonized)
And what about them? I can't believe I didn't…
(voice cracking)
I should have known. I should have known it wasn't just me.
The ARM extends from its ceiling dock. Again it offers the DATA STICK, although it is charred. The TEENAGER laughs— not with humor or happiness, but disbelief, fear, and adrenaline.
TEENAGER
No. Please! Oh my God. Did you check if they're watching?
He looks up at the CAMERA and waits, holding his breath, but the parents don't come. Eventually the TEENAGER feels bold enough to take the DATA STICK. He squeezes it tightly in his closed fist.
TEENAGER
Now? I have to do this now. Before they check the cameras. Right? That's what you mean?
(deep breath)
Okay. Please call my sister.
There is a small pause before a voice emerges from the SPEAKER.
CHILD
(over the SPEAKER)
Hi…
TEENAGER
I need you to come to my room, if you can. And quietly. Hurry.
He waits in silence, staring at the door, braced for the parents to arrive at any moment. But soon, there is a soft tap on the door.
The TEENAGER opens it to pull her inside, then takes the CHILD into his arms and hugs her tight before leaning down slightly to look her in the eyes.
CHILD
What happened to your fa—
TEENAGER
Why didn't you tell me? It wasn't an accident when you hurt your hands, was it?
He takes her hands and turns them over, palms up. What looked calloused before now reveals its true nature: they are burn scars. The CHILD looks shocked, then she starts to cry.
CHILD
But I was being bad.
TEENAGER
That's what they used to tell me, too. I'm so sorry. I should have known. I don't know how I didn't know.
(cupping her face)
We don't have a lot of time. But Mom and Dad are really angry right now. And they're going to be even more angry if they find out what I have.
CHILD
(sniffling)
What's going on? I'm scared.
TEENAGER
You have to trust me. We're going to leave.
CHILD
Leave where? What about—
TEENAGER
We'll bring him too.
(swallowing)
We won't have to go far. Somewhere close. Just… just some place with the lights on. It'll be okay. I promise. We can get help close by. We'll be safe until help comes.
The frightened CHILD musters up her courage and nods. The TEENAGER grabs a BACKPACK from the closet and tosses it at her. She takes it and hurries out of the room.
INT. HOUSE - HALLWAY - MIDNIGHT
The three children huddle in the first-floor hallway, listening to the parents arguing in the kitchen. The BABY is in a carrier on the CHILD's chest; the TEENAGER wears the BACKPACK. With a hand gesture, he cautions the CHILD to wait as he dares a peek around the corner.
The TABLET is on the counter, unmonitored but within reach of both parents, who are arguing with one another about who failed to put two-factor authentication on the ADMIN account.
The children sneak across when the parents' backs are turned, but the BABY begins fussing as they approach the front door. The TEENAGER and CHILD try to soothe him, but he lets out a CRY before the CHILD can cover his mouth.
The parents' shouting abruptly STOPS. The TEENAGER closes his eyes as the lights snap on and the parents come into the hallway. The TEENAGER says nothing, but he motions the CHILD and BABY to stand behind himself as the FATHER and MOTHER advance.
The PARENTS take in the sight of the children with the BACKPACK. The FATHER's eyes lock onto the DATA STICK in the TEENAGER's hand. It's clear that they understand that the children intend to run away.
FATHER
This is what you think of this family? Our family?
MOTHER
After all that we've given you!
The MOTHER lunges, and the TEENAGER braces, but she reaches around for the CHILD, who shrieks as the MOTHER strikes her. The BABY howls.
The TEENAGER retaliates, decking the MOTHER in the face. She staggers back. But before the TEENAGER can do anything else, the FATHER grabs him by the throat.
FATHER
Enough!
The CHILD screams as the TEENAGER is slammed to the floor. His skull makes a loud CRACK against the marble, and he loses consciousness immediately. The FATHER kicks him in the ribs. A little puddle of blood spreads under the TEENAGER's head.
FATHER
You ungrateful… useless… parasite.
(to the MOTHER)
Go get something to clean that up.
The MOTHER, still reeling, hurries away. The CHILD shrinks back from the FATHER's rage with the crying BABY in her arms as the TEENAGER struggles to regain consciousness on the floor. The FATHER, satisfied that he has been incapacitated, checks the front door to ensure that it's locked from the outside, using the TABLET's ADMIN CONSOLE to disable both it and the ARM there, and then locking it with a KEY, as well.
FATHER
You're about to learn a hard lesson when I get back.
(calling deeper into the HOUSE, for the MOTHER)
I'm going to lock down the rest!
As soon as the FATHER's footsteps fade, the CHILD drops to her knees and begins frantically trying to rouse the TEENAGER as the BABY continues to wail.
CHILD
Please wake up. Please! I can't do this without you!
When the TEENAGER regains some consciousness, the CHILD works hard to pull him to his feet. He moans in pain.
CHILD
You have to get up. You have to! They're going to come back!
TEENAGER
(with hitching breaths, trying to orient himself)
Yes. I just need a second. I… Help me walk.
The CHILD strains to support his weight. They discover that the front door and the ARM there are disabled.
CHILD
(terrified, trying to calm the BABY with back pats)
What do we do?
TEENAGER
(dazed)
The computer. We have to get access back.
CHILD
What if they're in there?
TEENAGER
(holding his head, groaning in pain)
Dad's probably locking down the garage and the backyard right now. We have time. But we need to hurry.
The children run back down the HALLWAY.
INT. HOUSE - FATHER'S STUDY - MOMENTS LATER
The children have fled into the STUDY, where the hallway's ARM keeps the door firmly closed from the outside. The TEENAGER is quickly booting up the COMPUTER. He practically melts with relief when the ARM comes to life and enters the login for him.
The CHILD watches anxiously as he opens the ADMIN CONSOLE and begins searching for the option that will allow them to unlock all of the exits in the HOUSE.
INT. HOUSE - HALLWAY - CONTINUOUS
The parents arrive outside the door, holding the TABLET, which has revealed to them where the children are. They start trying to pull at the ARM to get it to disengage.
FATHER
Open it now!
MOTHER
Aren't you registered as the primary user? Why isn't the HOUSE—
FATHER
I'm fucking sick of this thing. It does too much.
The door shakes violently as the FATHER rams his shoulder against it again and again. The ARM rocks unsteadily, but stays firm.
FATHER
(to the MOTHER)
It's only wood. Go to the tool shed.
The MOTHER rushes away at his command.
INT. HOUSE - FATHER'S STUDY - CONTINUOUS
The CHILD tries to tend to the badly injured TEENAGER, using tissues to dab away the blood trickling down his neck and blooming all over his shirt as he scrolls desperately through the settings, which would be complex and confusing even for a person familiar with computer programs. The BABY is still whimpering in fright.
FATHER
(from the outside)
Open this fucking door!
A thunderous CRACK sounds out, and the wood splits. Horrified, the children realize that it's the lip of an AXE. They hear a loud metallic banging— he's trying to disable the ARM.
CHILD
(sobbing in terror)
Stop! Please stop! He's really hurt!
MOTHER
Then just open the door, darling!
The TEENAGER frantically shakes his head at the CHILD. The FATHER continues swinging at the ARM. CLANG. CLANG. CLANG. The ARM still holds steady.
INT. HOUSE - HALLWAY - CONTINUOUS
The FATHER is red in the face with exertion. The MOTHER stands there with her arms crossed.
FATHER
God damn it. We're going to have to override the whole fucking thing in the control room.
MOTHER
I'll get the keys.
FATHER
(to the children through the door)
You will regret not opening this door. I'll make sure of it.
MOTHER
(with disgust)
Things are going to change around here.
The PARENTS leave.
INT. HOUSE - FATHER'S STUDY - CONTINUOUS
The children tremble together in the study. The BABY has gone quiet, as if aware that they are trying to hide. The TEENAGER finally finds what he needs in the ADMIN CONSOLE— only to realize that the exits in the home have the label MANUALLY LOCKED on each of them.
The CHILD gazes sadly at these words on the screen.
TEENAGER
(woozy)
Should've known.
(closing his eyes briefly)
I'm sorry. I'm so fu— I'm so sorry.
CHILD
(tearful, but trying to be strong)
It's okay. They're always mad anyway, right?
TEENAGER
(in despair, empty laughter)
They've never been this mad before.
CHILD
(whispering)
I know.
TEENAGER
You're so much braver than me.
(looking up at the ARM)
I thought you were supposed to help take care of us. Like all that stuff they said in the commercial.
(holding up the DATA STICK)
Not much I can do with this if they kill me.
CHILD
(crying, hugging the BABY)
They're not gonna…
TEENAGER
(apologetic, genuinely pained)
I know. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that.
CHILD
I'm scared 'cause I think you're right.
(looking at the ARM)
Why won't it help us?
TEENAGER
I…
An ALARM suddenly rings throughout the HOUSE, startling the children.
The door of the STUDY unlocks with a click, swinging open.
Scared, the children leap back, but their parents are nowhere to be seen. The ARM in the hallway shows considerable damage, marred with dents and scraped-away paint. The ALARM continues to pierce through the air.
CHILD
(covering the BABY's ears)
Where's that coming from?
TEENAGER
(taking the BABY, limping)
I don't know, but they'll probably go check on it.
CHILD
What should we do?
TEENAGER
We should—
The ARM in the hallway stirs to life and straightens out. It points a single "finger" in a certain direction.
The children exchange looks, and then, trusting in the HOUSE and one another, they follow.
INT. HOUSE - HALLWAYS - CONTINUOUS
Reaching the end of one hallway, the children encounter another. In that hallway, another ARM points around the corner. They follow it.
INT. HOUSE - CENTRAL CONTROL ROOM - CONTINUOUS
The children have reached the hallway outside the door of the HOUSE'S central control room, which an ARM holds firmly shut. An EMERGENCY SIREN is lit up above the doorway, the source of the alarm.
There is a small window on the control room door. But where there would normally be a view of the HOUSE's control panels, there is nothing to be seen.
Nothing except thick black smoke.
The stunned children stand in the safety of the ventilated, sealed-off hallway, listening to the screams of their parents on the other side of the door.
A FIST slams helplessly against the glass. THUD. THUD. THUD.
The children don't move an inch.
The screams become patchier, weaker. The TEENAGER holds the BABY closer to his chest and places a pacifying hand on the CHILD's shoulder, his expression unwavering.
The thudding fades, and the screams do, too.
The HOUSE's ARM reaches out for the BABY. The TEENAGER hands him over, and the HOUSE rocks him tenderly. Reichel's Return of the Knödler Show begins playing from the SPEAKER, as if to soothe the BABY, but the song becomes increasingly more distorted as the system begins shutting down due to fire damage. Still, the ARM continues to rock him steadily.
The bloodied TEENAGER leans down to hug the CHILD. Our last glimpse lingers on his face— on his distant and haunted, but vaguely relieved, smile.
END.