Breakwall - 8.0 - All That Remains
The Fate We Make
Breakwall - Episode 8.0 - The job is over. All that remains are the consequences of the fate we make and everything in-between. Follow us on Twitter for news and updates. Join us on discord to hang out with cast and crew! Want to support the show? Please check out our Patreon as Cybernautica is 100% Fan Supported! Make sure to stay up to date with our free, no spam newsletter.
Cybernautica is intended for mature audiences on account of mature language, theme and violence. Please be advised.
EPISODE CREDITS:
Abigail Turner as Jonny
Veronica Pierce as Estella Morgan
Travis Storey as Evan
Madeline Dorrah as Ella
Aubrey Poppleton as Tucker Casteel
Luke Alphonso as Waylon
Alexander Doddy as Nick Ballard
Bonnie Bogovich as Assistant
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Dan Boud as the Narrator
Written, Designed and Edited by Damian Szydlo
Script Editing by Jupiter Sanders
Show theme by Doug Maxwell
Music and Sound Effects from Syrinscape & Audioblocks
Transcript
FADE IN
[Ding of the recorder starting up, sounds of Jonny walking through Arcadia towards the Albatross, speaking as she goes.]
JONNY
“It’s my guess that you’re wondering how everything turned out. A bold, very public attack on a major contract holder’s headquarters leading to the abduction of said company's reborn CEO? Lest we forget that this was only the opening act and that we quickly followed it up with a live fire chase through Megaris. One that ended, mind you, in a smoking heap of twisted metal up on top of the Breakwall.
[let the sound effects of the city soak the moment up for a few seconds]
Would you believe me if I said that nothing came of it? That the next morning arrived as mornings will; that the sun rose to the same heights it did the day before and Neo-Atlantis grew one day older without much more than a hint that anything had occurred at all? Because that’s exactly what’s happened. They put the trash in the bin, set out to fix the damage caused to the Breakwall as nothing more than routine maintenance on a ‘traffic accident’. Hightower publicly apologized to Intra-Call in a news piece that most people surely didn’t even pay attention to; a token restitution at best… so business as usual there; Credits passing back and forth from hand to hand, as they do. Not much more than a powdering of their noses while doing their best to cover up the shiner they’d received the night prior… we shan’t dare for a moment forget what’s most important to these vultures. That of course being ‘that every day must be as predictable and as formulaic as the one before’. Just as surely as the rising sun. That’s how they hold onto their contracts and get big daddy Kraken’s spare change, after all.
That’s not, however, how it works here in Arcadia. Things don’t get fixed on the whim of an algorithm’s dispatch. We don’t heal all our wounds over the course of a night or what is now I guess multiple nights, at this point. We’re on our own, here. Shakin’ the pillars of the world even if nobody feels ‘em quake. A world on fire and nobody even knows it.
[switching gears to recall the events themselves] I… watched her fall; watched with my own eyes as Derby Bell tumbled off the hood of Evan’s cab. Down to the waves below to no doubt be dashed against the Breakwall for good measure. And if that’s so, why can’t I shake the feeling that somehow… Somehow it’s not the last I’ll see of her. It’s hard to explain but I feel… fuckin’ tied to this, to her, you know? Like Neo-Atlantis isn’t done with either of us.
Oh, would you listen to me? That’s Revik talk, that is. ‘Destiny’ this and ‘fate’ that… But what if it’s true? What if fate isn’t what we make? All I know for sure is that there’s no way of knowing the truth of it until a body washes up.
So… I guess that brings me back to ‘him’ then, doesn’t it? To Revik. I went home… after it was done, to find that he didn’t make it. It was Simon who broke the news of it to me. Simon who did what I couldn’t do… Let him go that is. It took everything I had in me to not choke the life from the man. I decided to get out of there instead, fast as my feet could take me. Been sleepin’ in hotels ever since, a woman without a home. Times come though, pity party’s over and I’ve got to face this thing head on. Figure it’s unlikely to run its course without the help of some tequila and a willing bartender. I’ll… I’m going to stop there, for now. Going to keep this thing recording till I get to the Albatross. I don’t… Well I suppose I just don’t want to be alone right now, if that’s alright.”
[stop ambient effects, let the narrator rise above, soft waves kicking in behind the speech]
The sun had fallen below the Breakwall; slipping into the sea only to rise once again more times than Jonny might have been aware of since her clash with Derby Bell. Life had continued to crash and swell all the while fate had remained silent, waiting for her to catch up with an open hand. There was a cost to be paid in all things you see, or so at least the common proverb stated. That ‘Neo-Atlantis always takes its price’. It often seemed true enough, this city… this new cradle to mankind couldn’t be a more patient observer to the many unsung events that might shake it’s foundation… all the while never forgetting, always holding its hands out to collect from those who should dare be so bold as to reach for the sun.
[SCENE FADE TO STREET MARKET, THE SOUND OF RAIN AND STREET TRAFFIC]
ASSISTANT
“I’m sorry, Ms. Morgan. We were unable to transfer the remainder of your holdings to Haven. It would seem that they’ve cut us off, both in regards to your finances… and your reputation. They even went as far as to publicly disavow your claim on the company. Presenting another clone as the heir to the fortune of Intra-Call. You’re officially an imposter.”
ESTELLA
“Dramatic… And of course completely expected. Predictability has been the board's sole virtue for over fifty years and I’d have it no other way. We’ll need to make do with what we have, then. I trust that it remains a suitable investment for the Utopian Society and that we might continue our little arrangement? I’d hate for my new position to be compromised by any resentment the founders should harbor in regards to it’s execution.”
ASSISTANT
“I don’t think you have anything to worry about. The Society remains content and your membership is considered an overall gain for us. You remain in good standing. We do have a question though.”
ESTELLA
“Oh? Do tell.”
ASSISTANT
“These evening walks you like to take. What is the purpose? You’re fellow council members don’t understand why you insist on putting yourself in danger. We would strongly recommend once more that you at least consider taking some protection along with you.”
ESTELLA
“You mean a spy? I’ll keep that in mind. If you must know, I need to remind myself of where the cage begins and where it ends. That I didn’t just elect for an exchange of prisons. Understand that my existence before now was propped up by gaslit half truths and barriers constructed to contain me. Out here… there is no control. It is also a likelihood that my escape may have also given me a taste for danger. For the things that I cannot anticipate. I could do without the smells, though. This place is wretched and the people are unwashed.”
ASSISTANT
“Acknowledged. I will… communicate the sentiment to the interested parties.”
ESTELLA
“Don’t bother. I’ve decided to revisit our little arrangement. It’s a small thing really but I prefer assistants that haven’t been compromised. Thank you for confirming my suspicions. Your services are no longer required.”
[sound of a gunshot over the holo-comm before Estella ends the call.]
TUCKER CASTEEL
[enter Tucker Casteel, now reduced to being a vendor on the street after being excommunicated from the Gunrunners]
“Wrist watches! Timepieces! Come, gaze upon a decadent luxury that has disappeared into the very mists that it seeks to represent!”
[now addressing Estella directly]
“Excuse me… could I interest a fine lady in a fine watch? Holo technology has made the existence of the classic wrist watch impractical, a relic of days past. I say that sentiment just increases the allure of such an artifact. Be one of the first in a growing modern-retro trend!”
ESTELLA
“Oh? Please, I have enough redundancy in my life without such hardware weighing me down. Besides, I’m old enough to remember a time where we still used them, though even then it was mostly for fashion… when it was still in fashion.”
TUCKER CASTEEL
“Well, you sure don’t look your age, miss. Perhaps I can interest you in something else then? You’re Estella Morgan, aren’t you? I saw you in the news earlier today. They say you’re an imposter.”
ESTELLA
“I’m certain they say even worse things behind closed doors.”
TUCKER CASTEEL
“People do say the damndest things when they’ve got their backs against the wall and some face to save. I get it. So seeing as you’re the real deal, I’ll have to admit that I had ulterior motivations when I came at you trying to sell you ‘time’. It’s obvious, in actuality, that you need something else that I just so happen to have behind this counter. With your permission, I’d like to make you an offer.”
ESTELLA
“I find myself strangely interested. Alright, let’s get to the point.”
TUCKER CASTEEL
“Loyalty. Smart loyalty, to be more precise. I couldn’t help but overhear your call just now. You’re in the market for a new assistant.
ESTELLA
“And let me guess, you’re the one to fill the position? A random street vendor? I’m sure I have a hundred applicants lined up already and they haven’t so much as cleaned the brains of my last assistant off the wall yet. But please, do entertain me.”
TUCKER CASTEEL
“I wasn’t always a street vendor. In a life only recently torn away from me I was a broker for the Gunrunners. Tucker Casteel is the name. You can find me blackballed in the registry still, I’m sure… which means you can also see that I was quickly on my way to the top… admittedly before I got ahead of myself. Those other applicants you were talking about? They’re bought and paid for, already. They’ve been on the inside. Me? I put everything on the line for the Gunrunners and got excommunicated for it. If you reinstate me, bring me back in; but this time on the Society’s payroll? A second chance like that comes with a lot of loyalty.”
ESTELLA
“Well. That’s certainly an intriguing if long winded sell, Mr. Casteel. Your technique needs a little work but… [pauses as she looks over the watches at the stall] That one. I’ll take that wrist watch… and your loyalty as well, presuming your story checks out. I’ll have a flightcar pick you up in an hour. Be ready.”
[FADE SCENE OUT]
[the sound of flame and a lighter flick, inhaling of a cigarette]
WAYLON
“How long has it been? It’s an answer I should know. Be able to recall events without having to resort to reliving the experience. Just like everything else surrounding your disappearance, it doesn’t add up. Five years. How could that time have passed so quickly? You… saw me… a light in the darkness. In the deep. I must look farther, this time. Despite the risks.”
Waylon closed his eyes as the painful memories began to resurface, feeling for the comfortable stability of the chair beneath him as his mind plunged into itself once again. The visions were as vivid and alive as they had been, yet quickly became fragmented and abstract. To his great frustration his focus would always skip when arriving at this place, fast forward and rewind in on itself like a shattered dream.
WAYLON
“Alex…”
The girl's smile flashed before his mind's eye. This only served to trigger a rapid, involuntary flutter of his amphibious eyes as he gripped the seat of the chair in an attempt to steady himself. It did little good as her laughter revisited a bolt of pain that echoed through his mind. They were teenagers then. He had been older than her by not more than a few years but it didn’t matter. She cared for him just as he’d protected her. They were both abandoned in this city, lashed together and marooned to this life. Her by a mother who cared more for ambition then for her flesh and blood… he by the world that had made him. An outsider even among his own people.
WAYLON
“Forward. To the end… The last time we spoke. You’re talking but… I can’t make out what you’re saying. Please. You said you… had to go. Don’t go. [strained now] His heart… No, my heart is… it’s breaking. Selfish. You only care about yourself. You’re not listening… need to hear the words behind the waves. Not waves… Thoughts. Needs. Emotions boiling over. This is no time for abstractions… I… don’t want to be alone again. Steady yourself, Waylon… Please don’t leave me alone… It’s so dark. You only ever cared for yourself!… No. Move past your anger. Fearing answers still. If… Only this time… if I can only focus on your words… What did you say to me?”
[pained sound as Waylon is overcome by emotional feedback, falling off the chair to the ground]
It was an impossibility; he reminded himself as he lay on the ground, his chair having dumped him during his convulsion. One couldn’t read himself the same way he might have read the world around him. It was too close to home. Each time he’d ever tried, the pain would always inevitably become too much to handle. Iteration upon iteration attacking his mind in a kind of psychic feedback loop. It had damaged him. He’d hoped this time might have been different. That the lead Jonny had given him would have helped pull something new from the turmoil. What Alex had been trying to tell him those years ago. An idea of where they’d taken her. Of who had taken her.
WAYLON
“I should never have stopped looking. Memories have degraded further then expected. I’ll find you while I still can. I promise.”
[FADE SCENE OUT]
[music playing as Ella gets ready for a date]
Ella had always appreciated the careful art of applying makeup, though she had little use for it on most days. In 2112, beauty was something one might be quick to take for granted. ‘Perfection’ or at least this week's version of it was accessible and took on many forms. If you were unhappy with a flaw, it could be fixed. You could be rearranged. A quick trip to Megaris and Neo-Atlantis had the answer to your problems as long as you had the wealth to see it done. From nanotech implants that could change the color of your lips on command to hair salons that offer a quick in and out procedure that might artificially accelerate hair growth before giving you a radically different styling… Vanity often enjoyed flirting with practicality in these times.
There was an art to doing it yourself though, she’d always thought. Or perhaps just a satisfaction to it. She found it hard to pinpoint the origins of this uncharacteristic sentiment that she reserved for only the most special occasions. An anniversary, a celebration or in this case, meeting someone special for the very first time. Upon completing the final, connecting stroke of her lip liner she raised a hand to her holo interface to scan available club listings for the evening.
ELLA
[calling into the other room] “Hey, Evan? What do you think? Boulevard or The Cage? I’m trying to make a reservation. [now talking to herself] … If you’re even LISTENING to me?”
EVAN
“It must be nice, Ella. It must just be so nice getting to go out on a date while I’m stuck here with a gut wound. I really hope you have great fun out there.”
ELLA
[walking into the other room] “Don’t be a baby, Evan. You’re doing so much better! You’ll be up and annoying the world again soon. Promise! Besides, I’ve GOT to get out of here for a bit. Now come on, grab my hand. It’s time for a quick walk around the apartment.”
EVAN
“Ugh. Do I have to?”
ELLA
“Doctors orders!”
EVAN
[Efforts as Evan takes her hand and pulls himself up] “First date, huh?”
ELLA
“Yeah… how’d you guess?”
EVAN
“[friendly sarcastic] Oh, I don’t know? Makeup’s a dead giveaway? Which you don’t need, you know. You look fine as it is. What happened to that guy from a couple months back, anyway? What’s his name… Jackson, or something?”
ELLA
“[repulsed] Major creep. Besides, we got busy with Jonny and there’s basically no way I can keep up on my dating life while we’re taking on Neo-Atlantis together.”
EVAN
“[laboured as he moves around the room] Good point. And probably why you’re the one walking me around this room right now.
We just keep getting in deeper, don’t we? Like just a few months ago we’re the help. Now we’re taking jobs for the Albatross. Or we will be, as soon as I get over this.”
ELLA
“Just a few more days and another visit to the Quick-Fix. Then you can pay me back!”
EVAN
“Pay you back!? For what!?”
ELLA
“Oh, I don’t know. [imitates Evan] Ella, can you get me a Joyritto? Ella, have you seen my Mortality 6 quick-disc? [ends imitation] Seriously, Mortality hasn’t been good since 4.”
EVAN
[mock insulted] “You take that back. Besides. I’d do the same for you if the shoe was on the other foot.”
ELLA
“Here we go again with ‘the shoe is on the other foot’. At least you used it right this time.”
EVAN
[uncomfortable and needing to sit down] “Alright, alright. That’s enough of this. Come to me, sweet recliner. [effort sounds of sitting back down on the couch, trying not to aggravate the sealed wound as he settles in]. So, who’s your date and do I get to meet them?”
ELLA
“Her name’s Wendy and as if I’d let you come anywhere near her. I want to show off the best of me before I let her see the worst.”
EVAN
“Ouch. Insensitive much? Newsflash, a guy’s got feelings.”
ELLA
“[laughs] Whatever. ‘Outrage’ is such a good look on you right now, Evan. [chime dings on her holo-comm] Oof, dates here; gotta go. I’ll be back in a little while, okay? Don’t do anything… well ‘you’ while I’m gone, okay?”
EVAN
“Oh, hey; It’s the sequel to Insensitive. Insensitive 2. My favorite. Like what am I even going to do? I’m stuck on this boring but insanely comfortable chair-couch thing.”
ELLA
“Recliner. You know the right word for it. You said it like a minute ago. And - Oh, I don’t know. Remember when you tried to ‘escape’ the other day to get take out? Need I remind you that you’re not supposed to eat that junk until you’re healed… which includes those Joyrittos you keep asking for?”
EVAN
“Look. I had a craving. And the only cure for it was Uncle Tao’s Noodles. You take all the fun out of being mortally wounded, you know.”
ELLA
“You’re insufferable.”
EVAN
“[laughs] There’s something so very wrong with us. Alright, can you maybe get out of here already? Don’t you have someplace to be?”
ELLA
“Whatever! Byeeee Evan!”
[DOOR CLOSES, SCENE FADES OUT]
So it was that the doors of the Albatross were flung open again just as they had been many times before now. The bar was nearly empty as she might have expected save for a few regulars conducting their business privately under the safety of the hub's roof. Jonny lingered there in the entrance for a moment; stuck in place as her eyes reached for Nicks and were in turn met with a knowing sympathy. She felt it sinking in then, like ivy creeping under her flesh to slide around her bones… that thing she’d been carefully avoiding since the job had finished. The price that had to be paid. Sliding her hand to her belt, she clicked off the large circular button on her recorder as the grief set into her throat. She could only close her eyes tightly in an effort to stave off the flood of emotion; swallowing hard before daring to open them again. Vision was at least kind enough to reveal that Nick Ballard was already mixing her favorite drink in advance of what he knew was coming his way.
NICK
“Come on over, Jonny. I was wondering when you’d wash up again.”
JONNY
“I won’t lie. It’s… been a process. Needed some time, you know? That job took a lot of me along with it.”
NICK
“So I’ve heard. Here, drink up. It’s on the house.”
Nick had finished pouring the mix into it’s smoked glass before placing it in front of the merc with a nod. He placed next to it a small case of chips, the ones she’d earned for pulling off the Morgan job. The air stood tense with reluctance as Jonny’s touch lingered upon the surface of the glass before she was finally ready to meet his sturdy gaze again.
JONNY
“How do I know when it’s too much? What… do I even do now that it’s over? I feel like I’m that lost little girl I was twelve years ago all over again. Left alone in this city with no family to call my own. Poorer than I started off despite the chips I’ve earned. He was… Revik was all I had. He didn’t have to protect me, didn’t need to let me stay with him all those years ago but he did… and I suppose that that generosity would cost him his life, in the end.”
NICK
“That’s not entirely fair to either you or him, is it? That old bot was the better for having you in his life. Way I see it, he needed someone just as much as you did. Neither of you had any family here. Hell, the hard truth of it is that his kind don’t even get families to begin with. You were a gift to each other. You’ll always have that.”
JONNY
“You say I was a gift to him? No. No, I was a curse, Nick. Did you know it was me that cost him his shell in the first place? That he promised to return to the spot he’d found me at everyday to look for my mother and that he actually did that? Kept his word. Did it until some fuckheaded drunk ran over him with a freight truck. Crushed his body beneath the wheels and oh, well! He can always get a new one, they said. That was me, Nick. That was me that did that to him and now he’s dead and I did that, too. Did you know that even without half of his body attached he tried to crawl out again the next day until I made him promise not to do so again? All for a mother that I damn well knew had died up there on the Breakwall. Did you know that? And I didn’t ever tell him that I loved him for it?”
NICK
“No, I suppose I didn’t know that.”
JONNY
“Well, now you do. So cheers to that I guess. The kicker is that right after I lose him, fate swings it around on me again. Has me fight to the death on top of the very wall I lost my folks on. Top it off, I got to stand by and watch as the woman who killed Revik almost took my friends from me, too. Friends that came back for me, saved my life even after I blamed them for what had happened in the first place. All up on that Breakwall.”
NICK
“But they didn’t. They didn’t die, did they? I heard back from Ella myself just yesterday. Evan’s to make a full recovery by the weekend, they’re already scanning for work the little rascals. Figured I’d give them the safe, small time stuff for a while. But this fate talk? This imagining that something bigger than us is looming over you ready to take whatever happiness you can make and drag it back into the sea? It’ll kill you quicker than anything else can. Grieve the old bot if you like, get it out of your system, I’m here for you on that till the end. But as to that song and dance? Between you and Lucy, I’ve heard about enough of fate and karma for a lifetime. It’s rubbish, Jonny.”
JONNY
“Rubbish is it? I’m not so sure of that anymore, to be honest with you. It played out the way he said it would, it did. He warned me not to go off and fight her. Told me not to slap at the hands of destiny. But I didn’t listen and for what? More pain? What am I going to do with the `what if’s’ I’m left holding now? With this guilt?”
NICK
“I suppose you’re going to do what the rest of us mere mortals do with it all. You’re going to drink up. Swallow it down and wash it away. You’ll consider the good times, Jonny… as well as the bad. You’ll remember that you can’t change a thing. There’s no way to make something right when it’s so damned wrong… other than reaching the decision to just carry on and do the best you damn well can. [Jonny drinks the drink before putting it down on the bartop]. That-a-girl. Another?”
JONNY
“Please.”
NICK
“You’ve got it. Coming right up.”
[Nick prepares the next drink]
JONNY
[futilely trying to change the subject] “I… haven’t heard you mention Lucy in some time. Is everything alright””
NICK
“She got out of the business. It’s a long story, really. If we could all be so lucky as to pick our time, right?”
JONNY
“I suppose.”
NICK
[sighs] “Look, I’d be lying if I tried to tell you that it isn’t going to keep hurting. It is. You’re going to dwell on it. Those tears your sucking up are going to get out one way or another. All the while people are going to tell you that it’ll get better with time but it won’t. It’ll just become different. Like when a wound becomes a scar. Any two bit merc in the business knows that your scars are what tell your story. What they don’t tell you is that it’s usually not the physical ones that tell the truth of it. [pauses a moment as he considers sharing something very personal with Jonny] Here… I… when my own father died, back when I was a boy. They read this at his funeral. It’s a poem called ‘Praise of a Man’, I’ll scan it over to your holo now. I want you to go over there; to your table. Take that drink with you and read it. It’ll help. Besides, I think it suits your dad better than it did mine.”
JONNY
“I’ll… I’ll do that. I think it’s best I be left alone for a while anyway, now.”
NICK
“You’re probably right. Let me know if you need anything.”
JONNY
“[starts to walk away but pauses] Thanks, Nick. I mean it. It… can’t rain all the time, right?”
NICK
[nods solemnly] “You’ve got the right of it, Jonny. It can’t rain all the time.”
She took a seat at a booth, her favorite seat in the house. Those familiar weathered tables, the long dura-plast benches that were eclipsed by a window that illuminated the table with a soft blue glow. The rain outside surged against the glass, making it feel like a porthole in the hull of a ship when holding against this downpour. Placing the glass on the table, Jonny called up the menu for her Holo-Comm, holding her breath still as she opened the poem Nick had forwarded her while reaching down for the worn button on her recorder.
JONNY
“He went through a company like a lamplighter –
See the dull minds, one after another,
begin to glow, to shed
a beneficent light.
[SCENE FADE OUT SLOWLY TO OUTRO]
[FADE OUT]
[END SEASON]