XXIII MAY MMIV
THE VOICE,
sounding incredibly like Charlton Heston, will speak. THE VOICE
will echo, as our projection of reality commences...
The first camera shot reveals a futuristic building of some sort. A
fortification almost.
The shot fades and focuses inside the fortification, giving an aerial
shot of a single, long tube, connecting two areas of the fortification.
The walls are constructed of high grade Plexiglas, manufactured to
precision. They seem to emit a light green glow.
The sound of marching steps begins to grow louder and louder.
There is order in this fortification.
Mass order.
No confusion.
No differences.
No conflicting ideas or thoughts or visions.
Just the ultimate echelon of unity.
THE VOICE:
"This day we shall celebrate,
DAMN YOU ALL TO HELL! the glorious victory over the...WHISKEY DEVILS."
The aerial vision vanishes. The tube is revealed to contain the
sounds of those people whose feet mar silence to create the indications
of order.
Their heads are shaved. Their faces emotionless, drab. They
know not freedom or liberty, but seem invariably content to remain as
such.
On their bodies: "Soylent Green" t-shirts. For it is with them
that their loyalties lie. It is to them that they have sacrificed their
mortality and souls.
Suddenly:
The Whiskey Devils. Finnegan, Lancaster. Donned in "Whiskey
Devils" t-shirts. Running forward. Propelled and goaded on by
something, their momentum carries them.
Return to the group of automatons:
Their eyes are void of consciousness as the lens of the camera focuses
in on the eyes of one poor soul. There lies nothingness.
THE VOICE:
"We will humiliate them DAMN YOU
ALL TO HELL! and for the first time in history, we shall HUMBLE THEM..."
A shot now of heavily armed and heavily shielded troops. They
rush forward, deliberately and urgently.
All the while, the automatons continue on to their destination,
ummoved, unknowing.
THE VOICE:
"...and SOYLENT GREEN, WILL
EMERGE UNSTOPPABLE."
A shot of their feet moving in unison, steady, rhythmic.
Another shot of the Whiskey Devils, running, onwards, determined.
THE VOICE:
"And every FAN, DAMN YOU ALL TO
HELL! will be blessed and ENLIGHTENED by the GREATNESS..."
The Whiskey Devils now hurtle down a narrow corridor. In the
distance, the troops try to bridge the distance between themselves and
their target.
THE VOICE:
"...THAT IS SOYLENT GREEN."
A shot now of more automatons, all in their "Soylent Green" t-shirts,
seated in a grand hall, listening intently and hypnotized by THE VOICE. THE VOICE
that directs all, sees all, KNOWS all.
The shot moves backwards. Row upon row, the automatons sit and listen.
Now, the shot reveals that THE VOICE is
emanating from a large screen, which booms out the mantra of Soylent
Green. Their initials flash continually in a colour tone that
parallels the constructs of the entire fortification.
THE VOICE:
"Our dedication to Soylent Green
makes them MIGHTIER, DAMN YOU ALL TO HELL! than ANY combination of men
in the ENTIRE WORLD."
The shot withdraws to show the Whiskey Devils once more. In the
distance they are seen entering the Great Hall, and it is evident that
each man is carrying something in their hands. What, one cannot
tell.
The troops rush closer and closer. Desperation is near.
Focus on the screen, as its message continues:
THE VOICE:
"Soylent Green is the ONE TEAM,
with ONE VISION, ONE MESSAGE, ONE WILL, ONE RESOLVE, ONE CAUSE."
The Whiskey Devils arrive at their target: the giant screen. They
reveal the objects to be: bottles of scotch whiskey.
They stop in their tracks, and pivoting on the spot, begin to turn,
gaining momentum...
The troops are metres away.
THE VOICE:
"Our enemies shall talk
themselves to death..."
Lancaster and Finnegan continue to pivot, gaining more and more
momentum.
The troops rush forward...so close.
THE VOICE:
"...and we will bury them with
their own confusion!"
The Devils give a collective yell and unleash their bottles of scotch:
Finnegan, a bottle of Glenfiddich.
Lancaster, a bottle of Johnnie Walker Gold.
The automatons watch as the bottles hurtle towards the screen.
THE VOICE:
"DAMN YOU ALL TO HELL! WE WILL
PREVAIL!!"
The bottles hit dead in the centre of the screen, which explodes in a
blinding flash of flame.
The automatons gasp in distraught disbelief as their mouths grow agape,
as a gush of wind, created by the explosion, rushes through the Great
Hall.
OTHER VOICE:
ON MAY 23, 2004:
TORONTO; SEE WHY THESE MEN TRULY ARE WHISKEY'S DEVILS.
Fade.
