[See Prolouge for disclaimer]
Anachronistic
By R. Buell
By R. Buell
EARTH…PRESENT DAY
LOS ANGELES – CALIFORNIA
A city comes in to view. The tall buildings reach as high as the eye can focus on. Down below the skyscrapers and clouds lay a heavy pack of vehicles, wandering around aimously towards their destination.
A 1999 Ford Explorer, green colored, sits amongst the others cars in heavy traffic. A man inside, with long brown hair, sits patiently, ignoring his outside surroundings. His head bops to the sound of his heavy metal music. He looks down quickly to find a can of Pepsi. He picks it up and drinks from it.
His cell phone rings. He jumps!
He hesitates for a moment and then picks it up, turning off his music.
MAN: Hello?
A woman in corporate building sits at a desk. Around her, the phones are ringing and people are scurring to get where they belong. She taps a pencil on her head as she holds the phone in her right hand. Her long blone hair meets her left hand, which is tapping the pencil, and the three cause a jam. However, she continues on the phone.
WOMAN: Hey, Tommy.
Tommy looks at his blind spot and moves to another lane.
TOMMY: Hey.
WOMAN: Where are you?
TOMMY: Ummm. (Someone beeps at him. He turns to motion an apology signal) I've been caught by the scene of beauty that is LA. Where are you, hon? Still at work?
WOMAN: Yeah, yeah. Got lots and lots of paperwork to do.
TOMMY: Lisa, don't overwork yourself!
Lisa stands up and turns around, unwrapping the phone cord. She grabs a package from a man and sits back down.
LISA: I'm not. But hey, at least all this overtime will help pay for the wedding.
Tommy jumps and swirves off the road a bit.
TOMMY: Jeez!
Tommy grabs the wheel and tries to bring the vehicle to a hault. The cars behind him react to his movements, causing other swirves. They all beep uncontrollably, unable to help what they were caught in.
LISA: Are you okay?
TOMMY: Um, yeah I just got caught in a little jam.
LISA: (hesitates) Yeah, I said marriage and you freaked!
TOMMY: What? (turns to a driver behind him and speaks) Sorry! (back to Lisa) Listen Lis, this isn't a good time to talk. I'm late for the presentation.
LISA: Tommy, why do you keep avoiding the subject?
TOMMY: I don't avoid the subject!
LISA: Okay then, why do you freak out every time I bring it up?
TOMMY: Hun, you're not even in the car with me, how do you know I freaked out?
LISA: Because you always do.
TOMMY: I do not. For your information I almost got myself killed.
LISA: So, when I asked you to marry me, which you can see the irony there, you almost fell off the balcony. Well, actually.. you did fall off the balcony. Luckily that big cake was there–
TOMMY: Listen, hun, can we talk aout this later. I'm sort of busy now. Okay?
LISA: (grins) Uh-huh! Bye! (hangs up)
Tommy closes his cell phone and puts it back down in the seat beside him. He continues to drive off. He pulls out of the intersection and then is released from traffic. He pulls down to a rest station parking lot and stops the car. He turns off the ignition. He throws himself back and sighs.
TOMMY: Great. Forget going to work today, Tommy! I'll just call Bill and–
Tommy grabs the phone and dials the number. He waits for an answer. Suddenly a beeping sound comes from within the car. > Beep Beep Beep-Beep Beep Beep< Someone answers.
CELL PHONE: Hello?
TOMMY: What the hell?
He hangs up the cell phone and looks around the vehicle. The sound is very familiar to him. He has heard it many times before. He pauses then and waits for it to sound again.
Nothing.
Tommy sighs and then starts the car again. >Beep Beep Beep-Beep Beep Beep<
Tommy jumps! He turns around to the backseat of the car. He looks around quickly and then looks near his seat. He waits a few minutes more.
Nothing.
Tommy sighs heavily. His hands are shaking, his face is sweating. He covers his face with his hands.
TOMMY: Calm down, Tommy boy, (whispers) Just nerves.. just nerves. (He runs his hands through his hair then back down to the wheel.)
Tommy puts the car in reverse and drives off, then in drive gear and heads back home.
Tommy enters through the doorway. He places the keys down on a stool and switches on the lights. His place is filled with surfing boards and pictures. He enters the bathroom and turns on the faucet. He splashes cool water on his face and bangs his head on the mirror. He looks up.
He sees a green mask looking back at him.
Tommy screams in panic.
He sees his own reflection once again. Tommy starts to shake nervously. He races out of the bathroom and into his own bedroom. He goes to his dresser and finds a bottle of pills labeled "for bad dreams or hallucinations" written on it. He pops two pills in and finds an old cup of water sitting beside the pills. He takes a drink and makes an unpleasant face.
Something falls from behind him.
He turns around, walks towards the fallen object and picks it up. It is a picture frame, with a picture of him and a few of his friends. They are posing in front of what appears to be a gym/diner. He places his hands on the frame and gives a smile.
The phone rings. Tommy walks to his bed and finds a cordless phone laying on his pillow.
TOMMY: Hello?
No answer comes from within the phone. He hangs up.
Tommy then heads out to the kitchen to return the phone to it's rightfull spot. He glances at his answering machine. He has one new message. He clicks the "play" button and heads to the refrigerator. The message plays.
A woman in an Australian accent speaks. She sounds kind and gentle:
"Hey Tommy. (giggles) It's me, Kat. Blast form your past, huh?"
Tommy pauses and heads towards the machine and stares at it while the message continues.
"How are you? I hope you're doing good. Listen, I've been meaning to talk to you. I know it's been ages since we last talked, but I've been real busy, you know? Anyways, I called to tell you that I'll be in LA for a few days. I thought we could meet or have lunch or something. Does that sounds good? You can reach me tonight by my cell number. It's 555-7882. Call me when you can..okay, Tommy?"
>Beep<
MACHINE: End of message. No more messages.
Tommy turns away. He puts his hands on his hips and sighs. He looks down, and then walks away.
NEW YORK.. NEW YORK
MENTAL-PSYCHIATRIC WARD
A doctor walks down the hallway, reading a medical chart. His attention is mostly concentrated on the notepad, but seems to manage whenever a patient or other comes passing by. He looks up as he passes several doorways. He browses at each nametag pasted on each door. He stopped by a door, with a nametag "Bonavite" pasted on the door.
The doctor peers in to see a woman, in her mid-40's, writing away on a taplet of paper at her desk. Her grayish-brown hair flops back and forth as she writes in a rhythmic tone. Her loosly positioned body waltzed back and forth with each stroke of her pencil. Her glasses were worn lightly from her eyes.
The male doctor interrupts her. He knocks on the open door.
DOCTOR: Excuse me. Dr. Bonavite? I'm Dr. Royelle (Pronounced royal with elle sound in place of the "a" in royal.)
BONAVITE: Yes?
ROYELLE: I'm here to talk to you about patient (looks at chart) X.
BONAVITE: (looks confused) I'm sorry?
ROYELLE: Patient X. He was placed here a few hours ago, and issued to you.
BONAVITE: I'm afraid I don't know anything about that.
ROYELLE: (walks over to her) I know. That's why I'm here. May I? (points to a chair by her desk. She nods her head and he sits) As I said, I'm Dr. Royelle from an upstate clinic in mental stability and psychology therapy. We received Patient X from a group of doctors returning from a mission out in the middle east. (he hands her his notepad. She glances at some of the sheets). It's a funny story actually, and the doctors were more eager to tell it. According to them, while they were out in Saudi Arabia, they came across a conversation of a devil flying out of the sky. Now, it was strange to here middle-easterns talk of devils and such but they explained to me the terminology, or epistimology if you will, is a white man who is from evil. Now, anyways… (coughs to clear throat. Dr. glances at him) they heard the conversation and the doctors were eager to learn more about what they were talking about so they directly asked them. It seems a few peasants were out in the desert when they claim to have seen a storm erupt and a young boy fall from the sky. They found him screaming out names, in English, but names unheard of. They brought him back to their town while he slept in some sort of coma. Anyways, the doctors found a young male, about 16 years old, 6 foot 1 inches, very tan, speaking english and of American accent. There was no I.D. on him, in fact the people who found him said he was naked, covered in an oily substance. And so, they doctors took him with them as they prepared to return overseas. Now the boy–
BONAVITE: I–I'm sorry to interrupt…but what does this have to do with me??
ROYELLE: Well, I'm getting there. Hold on! Now if I may, they brought him back and they took him to my psychiatric ward. Now, when I first saw him I had no idea what to think. He looked like a typical teenager, but then he started speaking some bizarre language or nonsense I never heard of. This boy has tremendous strength. Now, so far from what I've studied about him, he has no knowledge of who he is, no recollection of how he ended up in Saudi Arabia. Total amnesia if you will. But the stranger part about this boy is how he acts. He almost has…split-personality. He goes from a raging lunatic to, well, when he's asleep. He talks in this different voice. (laughs) It scared the hell out of me the first time I heard it, I tell yah! You ever seen the film "The Exorcist"??
Bonavite shakes her head in impatience.
ROYELLE: Well, he has this voice, that only comes in his sleep that sounds very mature, and wiser than his regular voice if you understand me.
BONAVITE: I'm sorry, I don't understand you. Forgive me, but you come in here and start yapping away aout someone you think is possessed?
ROYELLE: (giggles) No, no, I don't think he's possessed, unless there's a hormone devil on the loose. I think this kid is a genuine case of split-personality, and we've heard of your work on the subject. No one has called us verifying the young man's identity, no clues of his existance, nothing! And he shows up, it–it's just all bizarre. Don't you think?
Bonavite sits back.
BONAVITE: What makes you think he's American?
ROYELLE: Well, I dunno. (looks at her) You've ever heard of that superhero force in Angel Grove? The–the Power Rangers?
BONAVITE: (nods) I once did a paper on them, psychiatrically speaking.
ROYELLE: (laughs and sits up) Well, he's been saying some odd things about them and about monsters and planets and all this other crazy stuff that makes just no sense! I mean, he speaks American, accent I mean, understands english, well, when he's in his sleep. We just put it together that he's from around that area of America. But we haven't come across anything from other countries either, you know?
BONAVITE: Is this his photo?
Royelle nods.
Bonavite sighs. She looks at Royelle again.
BONAVITE: You say he arrived here today?
Royelle nods.
BONAVITE: Well, then I can try and see him immediately.
ROYELLE: Well–uh, that's not good. You see…he's heavily sedated. We have to force him to go to sleep. Lately, it's been worse. He used to go unconscious or sleep on his own, then he started staying awake just staring out in space so we gave him some medicine to konk him out lightly, but now we have to sedate him heavily to keep him out. It's like he's fighting to stay awake.
BONAVITE: You're not going to tell me Freddy Krueger is after him, are you?
ROYELLE: (smiles) I like you!
Dr. Bonavite stands up from her desk and stares down at Dr. Royelle.
BONAVITE: Where is he now?
ROYELLE: Uh, I think they sent him to the cell ward.
BONAVITE: Well, I want to see him right now, sedated or not. I want to make my own impressions.
ROYELLE: Then let me accompany you.
The two doctors are in a beautifully furnished room. The child is laying, strapped to a med unconscious. Dr. Royelle sits down. Dr. Bonavite remains to stand. She walks over and studies the young man.
BONAVITE: He looks too normal to be senial.
ROYELLE: Is that your impression?
Bonavite looks up at him, and then back down at the boy.
BONAVITE: What's this scar from?
She points to a huge scar on his hand.
ROYELLE: Oh, he obtained that scar when the doctors were prying something from his hands.
BONAVITE: What?
ROYELLE: Oh, I..uh..guess I forgot to mention it. They did find one thing on the boy. It was like glued to his hands. Unconscious or conscious, the boy had a firm grip on this, uh, weird mechanism. Here, I'll show you.
He reaches out of his briefcase and pulls out a small container. He opens that, and reveals a rectangular shaped object. It is grey. On the back, it has a handle that can be pulled out. In the middle of the front is a small golden coin with an odd shape on it. He hands it over to Bonavite. She studies it.
BONAVITE: What is it?
ROYELLE: Beats me. The golden portion in the center is able to come out, we found a few other coins as well. Each with these strange symbols on it I'd never seen.
Bonavite holds it in her hands and turns it over.
BONAVITE: It looks alien.
>Scrolls to bottom left<
NATIONAL OLYMPIC TRAINING CENTER
TAMPA – FLORIDA
A huge gym was crowded with males and females of all ages, practicing on aerobic equiptment.
A small sized, older man walks over to a female who is working on the equiptment. He finds a crowd around her.
She moves gracefully and swiftly. She flips through the air and then catches the pole and returns to the danger one more round. She lands on her feet and spreads her arms out as her audience claps exuberantly.
The man smiles and walks through the crowd to her.
MAN: Well done, Kimberly, except your third flip was a little off balance.
Kimberly graps a towl and mops her face with it. She rolls her eyes at the words of the man, throws the towl down and walks towards a drinking station. The man follows.
KIMERLY: Whatever, Alfred. Gimme a break, will you? Why can't you for once just let me rest easy, knowing I did one move perfectly.
ALFRED: My dear Kimberly, you pay me money to train you, not to give compliments. And you know how I feel about compliments.
KIMBERLY & ALFRED: They're lies.
Kimberly turns to him, holding a water bottle.
KIMBERLY: Alfred, I understand. But can't you give me a little space?
ALFRED: (a little ecentric) A little space? Kimberly, the tryouts are next week. THE tryouts you, we, have been working at trying to get in since the beginning of time!!!
KIMBERLY: And I'm ready for it.
ALFRED: Kim, you fell flat on your face last weekend, almost broke your nose. And a few days before that you totally blew the routine. And the past few days have been worse. You've been disoriented fully.
KIMBERLY: It's just a bad case of stress, alright? Besides, I just did the last one perfectly, didn't I?
ALFRED: Perfectly? Perfectly? That was nowhere near perfectly!
Kimberly turns back away and gras a bag that is laying on the floor besides other bags. She heads out of the building. Alfred follows.
ALFRED: We've got to work overtime, to make sure we can get you near the possibility of being perfect!
KIMERLY: Uh-uh. Forget it, I'm not staying in there another second.
Kim turns around as she says this and notices the strain in Alfred's eyes. He looks tired.
ALFRED: I know you probably hate me now, Kim, but when it's all over you'll thank me!
KIMBERLY: Al, get some sleep. I do appreciate everything you've done. But I can't do this. You being, like, panicy. It's driving me insane!
ALRED: Oh, I'm sorry Kim, I don't know what's gotten in to me. I–
KIMERLY: I know, I know, don't worry. Now get some sleep. I'll be here tommorow.
ALRED: Okay Kim, I will, and you to, get some sleep.
Kimerly gives him a quick smile and then she gets into her GeoTracker and drives off. She sighs to herself as she thinks aloud.
KIMBERLY: One more week.
She turns on the radio and listens to the news.
A male voice comes on to discuss worldwide news. Kimberly turns it up.
VOICE: In news today, Mr. Dan Thomas was inducted today as President of the United States after the assasination of Mr. President Bill Clinton. The FBI has no clue yet or any leads on the case. President Thomas went on the record saying, quote, "I have much sympathy for the Clinton family, but what's done is done". In other news…
KIMERLY: I don't know why I even listen to the news. Lord, I'm like obsessed with it.
VOICE: Angel Grove was attacked again today after Zordon's infamous murder, no thanks to former Power Rangers such as Kimberly!
Kimberly slams on her vehicle breaks and gets off the road. She looks in bewilderment at the radio.
VOICE: David Duchovny just laughed at the statement given by his costar saying quote "I couldn't be happier". That's it for the Entertainment News, now moving on to Sports.
Kimberly shakes her hair as she rubs her eyes. She stares off into space, still boggled by what she heard.
KIMBERLY: It's just in your head, just in your head!!
Her eyes tear up and redden as she fights the release of it. She breathes in heavily and then out heavily. Something behind her shuffles, she looks up at her mirror. A grey, bald man looks at her through the reflection.
ZORDON: Help me!
Kimberly screams! She gets out of her car, which is parked closely to the road. The cars swirve past her in the darkness of night. Kimberly jumps in reaction to the sirens. She walks away from her car, tears now streaming from her eyes. She turns around to see no one there. She runs into someone. She screams once again. She faces the person to reveal the man again. She falls to the ground, then runs back to her car. Lightning crashes, reflecting off the man. The man approaches her slowly. He is dressed in a grey, silky gown, the rest of his body completely covered. His eyes are filled with terror himself, as are Kimberly's.
KIMBERLY: Please, leave me alone!
The man still approaches. She rushes her hand underneath the driver's seat and finds a sharp pointed screw driver. She returns to the man and threatens him with it.
KIMBERLY: Don't come any closer!
ZORDON: Kim, why did you do this?
The man is only a few feet away. She thrashes it at him as she screams. The man grabs her. Kimerly tries to break free. A few other people arrive and hold her down.
KIMBERLY: Leave me alone! Leave me alone!!!!
A few medical personnel pull Kimberly out of the ambulance. She is half awake, yet not noticing anything. The people take her inside and move her to a hospital bed. She falls unconscious.
WOMAN: Miss? Miss?
Kimberly opens her eyes.
KIMBERLY: Where am I?
WOMAN: Everyone always says that when they come to. You're in the hospital, dear. You went a little bizerk, and fell unconscious.
KIMBERLY: (sits up) What?
WOMAN: You attacked a man as he was trying to help you off the road. (giggles) He said you threatend him with a screwdriver.
Kimberly scratches her head. Suddenly Alfred bursts in the room.
ALFRED: Kimberly, thank God.
The two are walking out of the hospital. Kimberly wraps her coat around her.
ALFRED: Kimerly, I know something is bothering you!
KIMERLY: Alfred, really, nothing is wrong.
ALFRED: Nothing is wrong??? You tried to wonk someone on the head with a piece of toolwork! I'm surprised they didn't want to lock you up!
He stops her in her tracks.
ALFRED: Kimberly, please. I've known you for years. Please tell me what is happening.
Kimberly looks down. Her face shows sign that she has not had decent sleep in weeks.
KIMBERLY: Look, I, um..I do have some problems, but they are private okay? And as for the tournament next week…I don't think I can go through with it.
ALFRED: What? But Kimberly, your life dream??
KIMBERLY: I know, I am quite aware. But there's something I have to do. Somewhere I have to go.
ALFRED: (he shuffles his feet) Okay, I understand.
KIMBERLY: You say that, but do you really mean that?
ALFRED: (sighs) Yes, Kimberly. Tomorrow I'll regret it. But your health…you mean more than a tournament to me.
KIMBERLY: Thank you, Alfred, thank you very much. I love you!
ALFRED: I love you, too! Now, can I at least help you somehow?
KIMBERLY: Yeah, actually. Could you loan me $500? I need to go to the airport.
ALFRED: (he smiles) Anything for you, hun. Come on, I'll give you a ride.
Alfred and Kimberly hug each other. Alfred walks off as Kimberly walks into the terminal. Alfred's face is shown, and tears stream down his face. He wipes them off. A man approached him.
MAN: Hey, Alfred. What's wrong?
ALFRED: Nothing, Frank. Don't worry.
FRANK: Who's that girl?
ALFRED: Someone I had to say goodbye to today!
An announcement comes on.
ANNOUNCEMENT: All final passengers going to Angel Grove, please report to Gate B-21.
Kimberly walks to gate B-21…and prepares to go home.
<