Pastorale

Jacko

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Darkness-hands roaming around flesh. Murmers mutterings

(vo): mm....mmmmamaa

A sharp intake of breathe. Followed by gagging sounds.

Fade to black.

A plush room, gentlemans club, all interior except for a large mirror on the wall. A stocky man, well dressed, well spoken stands by the mirror. He is looking down at his hands turning them over, looking at them. On the table there are the remains of a fine meal. In the mirror we see a woman sitting at the table. She is good looking but strangely sexless. Clean, too clean. She is observing him with a gentle gaze that reveals some concern. The lights go down in the room as the light comes up behind the mirror, revealing a pastoral scene. Woods and a babbling brook. Its early morning. The man is visibly moved, a boy enters the scene The man looks down at the floor.

DELIA: Isn’t strange how you can see the man in the boy .

Without lifting his head he looks up at her, glaring with rage.

GERAINT: Delia!

DELIA: I’m just saying how much I can see of you now in when you were a child.

GERAINT: Del!

DELIA: Okay, okay. Have your drama.

Geraint breathes in deeply, closing his eyes, focusing and centreing himself.

cut to

We are in the wood watching the boy. He is walking along riverbank trailing a stick in the water. He stops and crouches down to float a leaf on the water using the stick to create whorls and eddys instructing the leafs’ course until he suddenly stabs it and sinks it with his stick. He stands up turns round and jumps as he finds a man is standing right behind him and he looking straight at his crutch. The boy starts looking up...

GERAINT: (looking down with great love in his face ) It's ok Geraint, it's ok I’m a friend.

He leans down stroking the childs neck as the child steps back looking startled.

GERAINT: (moving closer) It's ok son, I’m a friend of your father. Come here.

The boy moves further back stumbling down the side of the bank.

GERAINT: For christ's sake, I said come here!

He grabs the boy round his neck with one great hand and yanks him towards him.

GERAINT: (shouting) Why the fuck don’t you listen. Why don’t you ever bloody listen.

His rage is building as he shakes the child. The child is rigid with fear and Geraints eyes are glistening with excitement.

cut back to Delias’ pov

We are actually looking through her eyes. She is sitting in the same chair we left her in. The table has been cleared. Her hand rests on an illuminated tablet. We see her view of the framed scene with Geraint and the boy. There is an interface transparancey layered over her vision and there is a cool ice blue light falling on what she sees.

We hear her thoughts as a running commentary. We realise her commentary is being recorded and that she is taking pictures, as different points on the interface light up as her eyes flicker across the screen.

DELIA: ...repetition of earlier encounter...sexual arousal...dilation of pupils...flight or fight paths open...the smell is rising... there is a local contamination...

We see her from the outside, the light in the room seems gloomy in contrast to her view. We see her taking in the scene infront of her. Her eyes flicking right, left or blinking occasionally. We stay with her eyes, we see the movement of the scene she is watching reflected on her eyes.

DELIA: ...repeated penetration...client distressed... we have asphyxiation...bring in waste disposal... here we go again...