Futurama

Fan Fiction

Anthology of Interest III
By Christina Nordlander Dawson

Futurama is property of Matt Groening. I’m just borrowing it for a while.

Caption: FORMATTED TO WIDESCRE/ [disappears off the edge of the screen]
The TV: the “Dokinium” video
FIRST ACT: “The Spork of Love”

Establishing shot of the Planet Express exterior. Cut to the office.
Professor Farnsworth is fiddling with
the by now familiar What If Machine. Several tools (including a spirit level
and a blowtorch) are lying
on the table next to it. He turns to face the others, standing at a
respectful distance.

FARNSWORTH: Good news everyone! After many weeks of working
overtime, during which I have lowered your wages to pay my own, I have
finally managed to return the
What If Machine to mint condition!
FRY (confused): Uh… but wasn’t it working before?
FARNSWORTH: Oh my, yes. (scornfully) If by “working” you mean that it
showed amazingly accurate images of any of the billion dimensions in which
events did not play out
the way they did in ours, yes.
LEELA: You mean, doing exactly what you designed for it to do?
FARNSWORTH (ignoring her): But… could it do *this*?

He pushes a button. SFX: crackling. The lights go out. Electrical currents
crawl all over the machine,
lighting Professor Farnsworth as he laughs maniacally. Lights go back on as
a tap at the side of the
machine emits a sparkly purple liquid into a paper cup. (In the background,
Scruffy is seen rolling up
the blinds.)

FARNSWORTH (triumphantly): Behold! The world’s only What If
Machine is now the world’s only What If Machine to serve hot coffee!
FRY: Ooh, can I have some?
LEELA (panicking): Fry, there’s no way that’s coffee!

She tackles him as he grabs the cup, and the liquid spills out.
Bird’s-eye-view of it eating through the
floor, leaving a hole down to the hangar. The others flock around the hole
and look down. Cut back.

HERMES (reading the ratings off a Geiger Counter-like instrument):
Apparently, de floor molecules hit by de liquid suddenly thought dey were in
another dimension.
FARNSWORTH (downcast): If only I had got Fry to drink it first!

Fry walks up and slaps his back.

FRY (nicely): Hey, cheer up! We can still use the machine to ask three
questions, can’t we?

Cut to the others.

AMY (puzzled): What I don’t get is, why is it always three questions?
HERMES (reading an ancient-looking scroll, complete with seals and
ribbons): It’s a tradition or an old charter. De document is not entirely
clear.
AMY: Oh.
FARNSWORTH (happy again): Well then, who wants to start? Leela?

Leela walks up to the machine, Fry watching her with obvious longing in his
eyes. (She doesn’t even
look at him.) Professor Farnsworth gives her a heavy, rusty skullcap-like
mechanism, attached to the
machine with a big tangle of cords, and she puts it on her head very
gingerly.

FARNSWORTH: The helmet will pick up your thoughts and transmit
them to the screen. (self-indulgently) It works like voice control, only
it’s hotter on today’s market.
FRY (still a bit wistful, waving his arms): Give it a go, Leela!
LEELA (thoughtfully): I want to know what would happen if I could ever
meet the man who’s perfect for me. I mean, I’ve dated several guys…
AMY (disparagingly): Yes, “several”.
ZOIDBERG: Yes, several! (cries)
LEELA (cont’d): But nobody was perfect. I mean, if I met a bright guy
who looked good, he’d sure as heck turn out to be a real-gone jerk. Then
there are guys who’ve got
*nothing* but their looks…
BENDER (smarmily): Zapp Brannigan, you mean?
LEELA (annoyed): Yes, Zapp Brannigan. And then there was that creep
who didn’t have anything. Alcatraz or Alakazam or something…
BENDER: Alcazar.
LEELA (suspiciously): Bender, do you keep a log on my dates?
BENDER (innocently): Would I do that?
LEELA: Yes. (returning into her reverie) What I wouldn’t give to meet a
guy who’s nice…

Cut to Fry, who smiles. Cue romantic music.

LEELA (cont’d): … reasonably good-looking…

Zoom on Fry, as he smiles more. Music goes even more romantic.

LEELA (cont’d): … and intelligent.

Cut music. Fry looks disoriented for a moment.

FRY (enthusiastically): Hey, I’m intelligent! Would a not-intelligent guy
do
*this*?

He grabs a cable and jumps into the hole in the floor. Bird’s-eye-view of
him dangling over the gap,
clutching to the cable.

FRY (sotto voce): Uh… help me up, Leela?

Leela pulls him up, looking annoyed.

FRY (awkwardly): Uh, see?
LEELA (unemotionally): Get back with the others, Fry.

Shot of Fry standing with the others, looking depressed.

BENDER (sympathetic, sotto voce): Hey, Fry, if you ever need a
shoulder to cry on…
FRY (gloomy): Yes?
BENDER (nastily): … don’t use mine, it’ll rust! (laughs annoyingly)
FARNSWORTH: You know, Leela, you don’t have to speak your request
out loud.
LEELA: Mm-kay.

Close up of Leela’s face.

LEELA (VO): What if I had an admirer who were sympathetic, intelligent
and handsome?

The skullcap zaps her, making it look for all the world as though she is
being electrocuted.

LEELA (VO): Hmmm. Tickles.

Shot of the regular What If screen. Fade out.
Fade in to an almost identical shot of the same office. Leela is still being
zapped by a helmet-like
appliance.

FARNSWORTH (removing it): You are now one hundred percent free
from the brain-eating hair lice contracted on your mission yesterday. Your
turn, Bender.
FRY: Uh, Professor, I don’t think Bender gets parasites, he’s a rob…

Bender clamps his head over Fry’s mouth and steps forward, arm lengthening
accordingly. The
Professor puts the helmet on Bender’s head, pushing his antenna down.

BENDER (swivelling his eyes up towards the helmet; seductively):
Please be gentle with me.

SFX: doorbell.

VOICE: You’ve got mail!
FRY: Ooh, sounds like the mail-bot is here!
LEELA (running for the door, smoothing her hair): Ooh, I hope it’s a
letter
from my secret admirer!

Fry tags along after her.

FRY (sourly): What’s so secret about that guy, anyway?
LEELA (just a bit romantic, but hiding it): His name is Orlando Blaze.
He’s twenty-four years old and works at Brevet-Brigadier Motors to pay off
his college fees. I’ve never
seen him, but he sends me flowers and cards. Apparently, he’s been watching
me for months without
me knowing.
FRY (annoyed): When *I* do that, you call it depraved stalking!
LEELA (not really listening): He has such a wonderful personality. He
says that my one eye is twice as beautiful as those of any other woman, and
that he sees my inner
beauty.
FRY (muttering): Hey, I don’t even *notice* your eye anymore! What eye,
anyway? (looking at her) Ah, that eye.
LEELA (dreamily): And I’ve never seen him, but I’m sure he’s
breathtakingly handsome. (opening the door, businesslike) Got anything for
me?

The Mail-bot seems terrified at her one eye, but regains composure.

MAIL-BOT (handing her some envelopes): A cheque for ten thousand
dollars from the Nixon administration, to Professor Farnsworth. And a
personal letter for Turanga
Leela.
LEELA (blushing, dropping the cheque): Oh… this is from him! (pressing
it to her nose) I recognise his scent of scrapyards and rose petals!

She opens it. Pan down the letter, which is written in a very beautiful
hand.

ORLANDO (VO; very romantic-sounding voice [Hugh Grant?]): Dear
Leela, it is time that you and I meet in person. I can no longer bear to
watch your ethereal beauty from
afar, your eye blinding even the sun and the moon, yet to be unable to show
you a fraction of the
feelings I harbour for you. If you too feel that our distant friendship may
be strong enough to grow into
something closer, please meet me at the public library. I will be waiting
for you in Record Room 12 in
the second basement. We could spend the afternoon discussing literature,
then eat out and perhaps
finish with a night at the theatre.

Brief cut back to Leela.

LEELA (excited): Oooh…

ORLANDO (cont’d): PS. I am writing this in my own hand, after my
automatic pen was eaten by my roommate.

Cut to a photo clipped to the bottom of the letter. Orlando is indeed a very
handsome young man.

LEELA (thoughtfully): So this is how he looks…

She folds the letter, puts it inside her shirt and walks off, rather
distracted. Fade out.
Fade in to show Leela walking through New New York in the afternoon, wearing
a plain but good-
looking dress and with a bit more of a spring in her step. She walks past
the posh lady (seen among
the parents in “The Devil’s Hands Are Idle Playthings”) and a man dressed as
a butler. They both glare
circumspectly at her.

LADY (not quite sotto voce): Isn’t she the most *adorable* thing, James?
All dressed up. Think she has a date with a single-bulb lamppost?
MAN (unemotional): Madam, my name is not James. May I remind you
that you are merely paying me to walk in front of you and pretend to be your
butler.

Front shot of Leela glancing at them and keeping on walking, still happy.
Distant shot of her walking up the steps to the library. Close up as she is
glared at by some teenagers
lounging on the steps.

BOY: Whoa, look at the ugly freak!
GIRL (with eye-patch): One-eye! One-eye!
ALL: One-eye! One-eye!

Leela hurries towards the entrance. Shot of her walking through an aisle in
the library.

LEELA (still even-minded): I don’t have to care about them. Orlando has
seen my inner beauty. I’ll go on the date with him, and *then* I will kick
their ass.

Cut to her walking down a staircase, holding a smoky torch. Pan around as
she walks through a dusty
basement corridor with archive rooms on both sides. Her footsteps echo.

LEELA (calling out): Orlando?

Cue faintly ominous music as she looks into one room. The number 12 is
sprayed on its very heavy-
looking steel door. She ducks some oversize spiderweb and walks inside.

LEELA (a bit dismayed): Orlando? You here? This isn’t funny!

Close up of her as the torch flickers. She turns her head. Music goes even
creepier. Shot of the door
sliding shut. SFX: a lock clicking, then retreating footsteps.

LEELA: HEY!

She starts pulling at the door, then backs and launches a flying kick at it.
Close up of her rubbing at a
tarnished plaque on the door saying “Iron Curtain Security Doors. 100%
martial arts proof.” She tries
to relax.

LEELA (muttering): I don’t suppose I’ll be getting out of here until the
cleaners come down.

She walks towards the shelves, leaving footprints in the thick dust.

LEELA: Might as well do some reading in the meantime…

Shot of her leaning closer and screwing up the flame of the torch. The backs
of the ledgers turn out to
read “Minutes of the New New York Citihall Proceedings”. Pan through the
basement corridors as
Leela’s muffled scream is heard.
Fade in to show Fry and Bender waiting outside Leela’s apartment block. The
sun is going down.

FRY (distressed): What’s taking them so long?
BENDER: Yeah, she’s been gone for ages. I bet they’re having sex.
FRY (accusingly): You’re really as sensitive as a big heavy metal thing,
aren’t you, Bender?
BENDER: HEY! Are you trying to make some kind of point?
FRY (disappointed): All right, let’s go home.
BENDER: Go ahead. I’m just standing here waiting for rich people to
mug.

Aerial shot of New New York as dusk falls. Slow, eerie fade out.
Fade in to the archive room where Leela is asleep, torch attached to the
wall above her, ledger open
on her lap. (There are several other ledgers lying around her.) SFX: lock
clicking. She jolts awake,
grabs the torch and hurries towards the door. Cut to the corridor as she
opens it tentatively and walks
outside.
Cut to the upper levels of the library as she walks on, still carrying the
torch. It is completely quiet, and
there is no other light.

LEELA (worried, echoing): I must have been in there for hours. (quite
annoyed) Does that Orlando have a few things to explain!

SFX: footsteps. Leela jumps, then hurries towards a doorway leading into one
library room. Faint
moonlight is coming through the window, and a man is standing by the
bookshelf, picking a book.
Leela screws down the flame of the torch and sneaks closer. Cut to the man.
He is youngish-looking,
wearing a Scary Door T-shirt, but his face is obscured by the open book.

GUY (to himself): On second thought, I don’t know Braille.

He walks along the shelf, supporting himself on it with one hand. Leela is
seen in the background,
staring.

GUY (muttering): I’ll try to find the audiotapes.

Cut to show him sitting down next to an old-fashioned (even for our time)
set of loudspeakers and
hitting a button. His back is against the camera.

AUDIOTAPE (boring voice): Here follows a guide to the State of New
New York copyright legislation of 2848, with the amendments of 2956…

Leela, seen from behind, approaches.

LEELA (worried): Excuse me, have you seen…

Close up of his face as it comes within the torchlight. Cue scary chord. The
man has no eyes, just
empty skin. Cut to Leela, screaming and almost thrusting the torch into his
face as she backs. Cut to
her hurrying down the steps of the library in the night. (There is very
little light other than the moon,
and there is no traffic.)

LEELA (mumbling to herself): A one-time occurrence… just a one-time
occurrence…

Shot of the lady and the fake butler walking down the street ahead of her,
quite slowly, backs against
her.

LEELA (panicky): Hello? Madam who mocked me earlier?

Cue the same scary chord as both slowly turn around. Of course, they have no
eyes either. Cut to
Leela, screaming and running the other way, until she reaches the teenagers
standing in a circle. They
turn towards her, revealing their lack of eyes.

FORMERLY ONE-EYED GIRL (eye-patch flapping horribly in the
dramatic wind): So… dark…

Cut to Leela, screaming and running a third way. She enters a small plaza
where a statue of President
McNeal (seen in the episode “When Aliens Attack”) is standing. Some of the
eyeless are chiselling at
its face, turning the eyes into just smooth rock, as others stand around.
They all turn towards her.
Many of the regulars are among them, including Dr Zoidberg, Amy, Hermes and
Professor Farnsworth
(still wearing his glasses).

EYELESS ONES (eerie chorus): So… dark… so… dark… so… dark…

Bird’s-eye-view as they advance on her. Cut back to Leela, waving her torch.

LEELA (scared, yet commanding): Stand back! You’re making me
nervous, and I don’t hold myself responsible for any actions caused by
nervousness!

The eyeless ones back away from her voice, then fall prostrate on the
ground.

EYELESS ONES (eerie chorus): Our mistress… Leela!

Leela takes one look at them and runs. Shot of her running into something
hard and falling.

LEELA: Ouch! (looking up) Bender?

Cut to Bender, outlined against the sky and looking just about normal.

BENDER (rather impersonally): I guess you’re wondering what’s going
on. There was a ray sweeping through the city at eye height, it made my
eyebulbs fall out, but I just
put them back in again. However, it contained an electromagnetic pulse, so
my memory has been
wiped and I unfortunately have no idea whether I know you or not. (he sags)
I will short-circuit in two
seconds.

He collapses. Leela walks up to him, terrified.

BENDER (slowly): The… library…

Distant shot of Leela walking up the steps again. Close up of her as a
shadow steps out from behind a
statue and taps her shoulder. She screams and turns around.
Shot of a man in a protection suit and helmet with a visor, obscuring his
face. He is carrying a large
contraption like a mix between a raygun and a vacuum cleaner, attached to a
pack on his back by
many cables, but not in a threatening way.

MAN (echoing voice): Leela!
LEELA (backing away): Please, don’t remove your helmet! It never gets
any easier!

The man removes his helmet, revealing himself to be Orlando, face intact.
He’s just as handsome as
on the photo, but has a somewhat mad cast to his eyes.

LEELA (still more shocked than anything else): Orlando!
ORLANDO (agitated): Leela!
LEELA: Orlando!
ORLANDO: Yes, Orlando… (with a widening smile) Or, as I prefer, “the
new lord and master of New New York!”

Cue dramatic chord.

LEELA (in sudden realisation): You! You did this!
ORLANDO (proudly): Yes! (with a sweeping gesture) Nice, isn’t it?
LEELA: How could you?
ORLANDO (a bit confused): Do you mean in a purely practical way, or
are you referring to the morality of my action?
LEELA (briefly taken aback): Uh… first one and then the other.
ORLANDO (pleased): Ah, it was quite easy.

He waves the raygun-hose thing around. Leela skips back.

ORLANDO: Using cutting-edge scientific results, I was able to create a
ray, which I call… (he takes up an issue of New New Scientist and leafs
through it) the Devolution
Ray. When used on guinea-pigs, it caused them to devolve to fœtal stage. By
changing certain
properties of the ray, I arrived at its more useful incarnation… the Shaped
Devolution Ray. This ray
only devolved the organ it touched, leaving the rest normally developed. So,
by aiming it at the eyes of
my victims, I made their genes regress to the stage where they would not
have eyes!
LEELA (slightly sickened): Frankly, the technobabble usually goes over
my head. I just smile and nod.
ORLANDO (softer): How about the moral-babble?
LEELA (angry): Yes, if you don’t mind, I’d quite like to know what kind of
twisted ethics…

Shot of Orlando opening his eyes wide. Cue intensely romantic music.

ORLANDO (chivalrously): Nothing but my desire for you, beloved Leela!

Cut to a bird’s-eye-view behind them as he puts an arm around her shoulders
and they look out at the
city. In the faint light, the eyeless ones are seen milling around
disturbingly.

ORLANDO (grandiloquent): Behold them, my lady! They mocked your
unique beauty! They thought that their two eyes respectively were superior
to your one! Lo, the great
turnabout!

Shot of an eyeless couple. The man trips and falls, and the woman then trips
over him. Cut back to
Leela, looking nauseous.

LEELA (sharply): You get points for intelligent and handsome, but let me
tell you, you are *not* nice!
ORLANDO : What?
LEELA: Never mind. (pause) You are twisted, Orlando! A twisted,
brilliant heartthrob! Sure, every now and then I got fed up with being
stared at, and I wouldn’t mind
having a bit of revenge… at least on those who deserved it… and not for very
long… but this is an
atrocity! How could you justify your action to those thousands?
ORLANDO (smoothly): Well… sight is often a deceitful and cruel sense.
How many times have you not seen something you would rather not have, or
been fooled by your
eyes? You could say I did them a service.
LEELA (curiously): Speaking of which, why do they all act so zombie-
like?
ORLANDO: When the ray passes through the skull bone, it incidentally
gains the identical properties to a common household-use lobotomy ray.
LEELA: I see. (worried) They hailed me as their mistress. Why?
ORLANDO (impatiently): I don’t have to explain every intricacy in my
perfect plan. It all boils down to this…

He kneels to her.

ORLANDO: The eyeless ones are in need of a leader, as any other mob.
In the land of the eyeless, the one-eyed woman is a very sensual queen.

Scary close up of him (from Leela’s POV) smiling weirdly and holding out a
ring. Cue ominous music.

ORLANDO (soulfully): Join me, Leela, and together we shall rule New
New York as husband and wife!

Close up of Leela. Her eye wells with tears.

LEELA (buoyantly): Oh Orlando! I thought you’d never ax! (takes the
ring)
ORLANDO (hopefully): Really?
LEELA (giddy and a bit hysterical): Yes! You turned everyone I know into
hideously deformed freaks just to prove your icky obsession with me! How
could a woman say no to
*that*?
ORLANDO (a bit worried): You know, Leela, in addition to being
intelligent, handsome and nice, I’m not very emotionally attentive…
LEELA: Catch.

She throws the ring into the air, then bounds down the steps.
The camera follows her as she rushes through the alleys, eventually stopping
in front of a dark-
shrouded figure.

LEELA (almost sobbing): Please… no…

The figure grabs her hands. It is in fact Fry, also eyeless, wearing a
stiff-looking dark cloak.

FRY (panicky): Leela, help me! Last thing I remember, I was starching
my black silk dressing-gown, and then… I couldn’t see! I walked all over
town looking for you! Well,
not looking, but… help me!
LEELA (hugging him): Oh, Fry… you were right about Orlando. He’s an
obsessive, cruel weirdo!
FRY (sad): But I didn’t know that! I was just jealous!
ORLANDO (OS, imperiously): There she is! Persecute and drag her
tremblingly before me!
EYELESS: Ahem…
ORLANDO (OS, worried): I mean… bring the Mistress before my face
that I may pay her my deepest respects!

The eyeless ones grab him and drag him unceremoniously towards Leela. Fry
throws himself in front
of her.

FRY (selflessly): If you want her, you’ll have to get past me!
EYELESS ONES (chanting): Lee-la! Lee-la! Lee-la!

They throw Fry out of the way, then keep dragging Orlando towards Leela. Cut
to Leela’s POV as they
approach. She kicks some down, but there are more coming. Cut back as they
latch on to her.
Dramatic fade out.
Cut to a dark, creepy corridor. Leela is standing chained up against a wall,
wearing a sumptuous
wedding dress and guarded by several eyeless ones. She jolts upright as
Orlando steps out of the
shadows, wearing a tuxedo and carrying the ray apparatus.

ORLANDO (menacing): I’m only going to ax you once. Will you marry
me?
LEELA (glancing at the eyeless ones): They don’t obey you, do they? All
they care for is me.
ORLANDO: Is that a no? Fine, then I’ll just have to beat you up until you
see sense.
LEELA (panicky): How exactly is that *nice*?
ORLANDO: Ah, according to a recent article in New New Scientist,
women do in fact enjoy a bit of submission.

He reads in his issue.

ORLANDO: … wait. I was mistaken. In fact, it says that women enjoy
having their eyes removed with sporks.

Cue disturbing music as he raises a wicked-looking metal spork. The light
glints in it.

LEELA (terrified): You are insane!
ORLANDO (grinning): Yes. But I am the best man you will ever land.

The eyeless ones kneel before Leela.

ORLANDO (megalomaniac): You have the chance to rule a *new* New
New York, with thousands of subjects who will obey your every command. Or
not. But either way, you
shall be mine!

Cut between his apprehensive face and Leela’s twitching one.

ORLANDO: What do you choose? Me, or the spork… and then me?

Close up at Leela’s eye. Dramatic fade out.
Fade in to the Citihall. The lighting is still bad. Many eyeless are
flocking around Leela, hands tied
behind her back, and Orlando, pointing his ray apparatus at her.

MAYOR POOPENMEYER (droning voice, vaguely in Leela’s direction):
Do you, Orlando Johnny Blaze, take this Turanga Leela to your wedded wife?
ORLANDO (excitedly): I do!
POOPENMEYER (turning, vaguely in Orlando’s direction): Do you,
Turanga Leela, take this Orlando Johnny Blaze to your wedded husband?
LEELA (sotto voce): I… do.
POOPENMEYER (in Leela’s direction): You may now kiss the bride.

Orlando closes his eyes expectantly. Close up of Leela giving the apparatus
a kick, causing the flared
barrel to swivel until it points back at Orlando. She then kicks him hard on
the shin.

LEELA (unemotional): Smooch.
ORLANDO (opening his eyes, enraged): That *does it*! The spork is too
good for you! You must taste the agony of the Shaped Devolution Ray!

Cue dramatic music as he pulls the switch. SFX: evil sci-fi ray. The barrel
is pointing at his crotch, and
the ray locks onto it.

ORLANDO (high-pitched screaming): No! NO!

He manages to wrest the barrel upwards, and the ray instead locks on his
face. Pan around as he
manages to tear free. He now has only one eye, and is foaming around the
mouth.

ORLANDO (utterly mad): You sadistic temptress! You led me on! Well,
no more Mr Nice Guy!
LEELA (nodding her head at the guard of eyeless ones): Seize him!

After some false tries, the eyeless ones do.

ORLANDO (panicky): Uh… please? Mr Nice Guy?
LEELA: Anonymous executioner, do your duty. Please.
POOPENMEYER: By your command!

He puts on an executioner’s hood. (It has no holes for the eyes.) He then
drags the yelling Orlando to
the desk. Close up of a paper-shredder. After missing a few times, the Mayor
flicks the switch from
“paper-shredder” to “fax” to “guillotine” and jams Orlando’s head into it.

ORLANDO (muffled): Be sure to hold my head up high. It’s worth looking
at!

SFX: chop. The crowd chants Leela’s name madly. Mayor Poopenmeyer hands her
Orlando’s head
impaled on a halberd, flailing it around a bit. Shot of Leela, holding the
halberd.

LEELA (mightily): Behold, the head of a traitor!

Cut to the crowd of eyeless ones, facing in the direction of a painting of a
king. (The sign on it says:
“King Charles teh L33t of Europe”.)

EYELESS ONES: Wooo!
LEELA (more normally): Oh well, get a move on. We’ve got to rebuild
society from scratch, but I’m sure we’ll manage.

The eyeless ones slouch off, looking a little more animated.

GUY FROM LIBRARY: Does anyone here know Braille?

Fade out. Fade in to show Leela, still in the sumptuous dress, lying on a
couch. One of the eyeless is
waving a fan over her, rather clumsily.

LEELA (yawning): I think I’ll go out and see how the rebuilding of society
goes. In a moment. (calling out) Grapes?

Fry, wearing a loincloth, stumbles up holding a bowl of grapes. He takes
one, and sticks it in Leela’s
ear. Leela shudders.

FRY (sounding like he normally does around Leela): I’m sorry, mistress.
Let me remove it with my own lips.

Instead, he manages to kiss her on the mouth. The screen shrinks to the
shape of a heart around their
faces.

NARRATOR (cheesily): Are you interested yet? Stay tuned for more…

The captions come up.

NARRATOR: TALES OF INTEREST!

SECOND ACT (“Blasted Be the Peacemakers”)

Cut back to the room. Shot of Fry and Leela. Both stare, Fry rubbing his
eyes for a moment.

LEELA (outraged): That’s just stupid! I would never do things like that,
not even if I were the charismatic ruler of a worshipping people!

Fry sighs.

FARNSWORTH (nicely): Oh, but you know, Leela, absolute power
absolutely corrupts even the absolutely incorruptible.
LEELA (somewhat placated): Hmm.
FRY: Absolutely! Can I have a go now?

Zoom out to show that Scruffy is nailing boards over the hole in the floor.
He looks up.

SCRUFFY (grumpy): Why does nobody ever ax Scruffy?
FARNSWORTH (petulantly; ignoring Scruffy): Yes you can, because
you’re related to me and I give unrealistic benefits to my relatives. Go
ahead, Fry.

Fry puts on the helmet, a pensive look on his face.

FRY: What if me and the Professor exchanged bodies?
SCRUFFY (grumpy): Scruffy can think of a better question to ax.
FARNSWORTH: Silence, fellow male! When you’re finished with that, go
down to the kitchen and clean out the very long toaster for toasting
baguettes. (to the machine) All
right machine, do your stuff.

Cue the regular purple screen.
Shot of Fry putting a helmet on his head. Zoom out to show that Professor
Farnsworth is doing the
same. The helmets are connected to a customarily dangerous-looking
contraption. The Professor
presses a button, and there is a sizzling noise. Slowly, their expressions
change.

FRY (Farnsworth’s voice; triumphant): The mind exchange is complete!

The helmets rise, and both stare at their hands. Two mirrors lower
themselves from the machine, and
they gaze at them in awe.

FRY-FARNSWORTH (ecstatic): I’m young! I’m handsome! I’m rippling
with muscles! (he pulls up his shirt and looks at his stomach for a moment)
I’m a 140-year-old living it
up in a 26-year-old’s body!
FARNSWORTH (Fry’s voice; just as happy): I’m old and wrinkled! I told
Bender I’d go drinking with him tonight, can’t wait for him to see me like
this! He’ll be…

He falls asleep on his feet. Fry-Farnsworth nudges him.

FRY-FARNSWORTH (helpfully): The pills are in my left pocket.

Close up as Farnsworth-Fry rummages in the pocket in his white coat and
takes out a complicated-
looking key.

FARNSWORTH-FRY (rather bored): Eh, the master key to the lab.
FRY-FARNSWORTH (panicky): No, you infernal baguette-toast! That is
the master key to the lab!
FARNSWORTH-FRY (enthusiastic): Cool! The master key to the lab!

He hobbles off. Shot of Fry-Farnsworth trying to hobble after him.
Cut to a dingy basement room full of Professor Farnsworth’s inventions.
(They include: the
Smelloscope, a large selection of Death Watches in different models, a bunch
of doomsday devices,
the What If Machine itself, the glow-in-the-dark-noses-making machine, and
the Parabox.) He bends
forward and adjusts his glasses to look at a red button on the wall.

FARNSWORTH-FRY (reading): “Don’t… push… this… button.” (pushes
it)
FRY-FARNSWORTH (calling out): No! Not the Armageddon Button!

Bright light. SFX: kaboom.
Purple screen.
Cut back to the room. Particularly Fry looks shaken. Bender seems
entertained, however.

ZOIDBERG (sagely): Truly a stern warning of things to come.
BENDER (lighting a cigar): I like it! Let’s watch it again!
FARNSWORTH (to Fry; sternly): You are a shame and disgrace for all
your progeny! (somewhat mollified) Choose a better question.
LEELA (sharply): Yes, one where you don’t do anything stupid.

Shot of Fry’s sad face as he puts the helmet on. Fry’s POV of Leela.

FRY (wistfully): What if I was smart…

Cut to Fry’s POV of the Professor.

FRY (more normally): … and the Professor was stupid?

Purple swirls.
Shot of Fry and Professor Farnsworth moping by the table.

FRY (moodily): Oh, I wish I was smart. Leela never shows me any
respect, and I feel mighty low.
FARNSWORTH (just as moodily): Oh, I wish I could stop being smart for
a while. A century of cutting-edge inventing has left me prematurely grey.
Everywhere I see nitwitted
people enjoying themselves, and I feel mighty low.
FRY (angrily): But I’m stupid! (banging his head against the tabletop)
Stupid, stupid, stupid! (looking up, in a daze) Hey, this is a bit like
getting drunk, except it hurts more!

Professor Farnsworth suddenly looks at him.

FARNSWORTH: Are you pondering what I’m pondering?
FRY: Sure, Professor, but wouldn’t butter and brandy taste pretty awful
mixed together?

Fade out. Fade in to show the two standing in front of a machine looking a
lot like the body-switching
one in the previous vision.

FARNSWORTH (enthusiastic): This is the Great Leveller 4000… or, as I
prefer to call it, the Brain Vampire! It will leech my surplus brain
activity and transfer it to you. (aside)
It’s all done with vibrations and radiation and radium. (louder) However,
the effect will only last one
week, and then the morphological field of our respective brains will assert
itself.
FRY (not really listening): One month is all I need to show Leela I’m not
an idiot! Let’s roll!

He puts a helmet-like thing on his head and starts acting like he’s being
electrocuted.

FARNSWORTH (patiently): No, that’s a lettuce sieve.

He puts one of the skullcaps attached to the machine on Fry’s head, then one
marked “donor” on his
own.

FARNSWORTH (pushing a button): You may feel a slight jolt.

Close up of Fry’s eye as the pupil widens. Cue music: “Also Sprach
Zarathustra”. Black out
Shot of a dark, bare little room where a small version of Fry, naked except
for a sash reading FRY’S
INTELLECT, is sitting, staring at the floor. He stands up and stretches,
looking rather invigorated. The
walls are swept away, and he somehow climbs onto a surf-washed beach. He
takes a great leap and
lands in a glitzily lit street. An eagle swoops down and grabs him. Shot of
them flying past a mountain
and onto a peak with a marble-pillared classical temple. Shot of Fry’s
intellect, dressed in a gorgeous
robe, entering the pillar hall from Raphael’s “The School in Athens” fresco.
Cut back. The helmets come off.

FRY (in awe): I can feel my very synapses branching and connecting in
ways unknown!
FARNSWORTH (confused): What?
FRY (trying to calm down) The world has so many colours! And now I
know the names of them all! The oxygen tastes so fresh on my tongue!
(rushing off) I must see Leela
like this!
FARNSWORTH (hobbling after him): You what? (looking around) Ooh, a
table!

He wanders off-stage. SFX: head banging against a table.

Leela comes down the stair and Fry stumbles into her.

LEELA (a bit resigned): Gee, Fry. (calling out) ”All My Circuits” is on, you
wanna watch?

Shot of Fry looking up at her. Cut to her face, seeming clearer and more
beautiful than ever. Cut to
Fry’s shocked face.

FRY (VO): She’s beautiful! I’ve seen the world through a mist until now! I
never had the eyes to see her beauty…
LEELA (worried): Fry? (waving a hand before his eyes) Fry?
FRY (blurting): I was struck dumb by the renascence of beauty by which
the world has sloughed its veil of grimy commonplaces!
LEELA (even more worried): Have you been drinking Vanilla Slurm
again?
FRY (VO): And now… now I have the words!

Fry smiles, trying to look his normal stupid self.

FRY: I mean… ”All My Circuits”! Yay!

SFX: head-bashing.

LEELA (calling out): You too, Professor?

Cut to the crew in the couch, watching the TV. Cut to the screen. Calculon,
wearing a suit and a black
cable tied around his arm, is standing by a tomb. On it is a metal effigy of
an angel looking like
Monique.

CALCULON (sobbing): Oh, Monique! If only you had been virus-
protected!

Cue over-dramatic music. Camera-glide up as the statue moves. Monique, for
it is she, opens her
eyes.

MONIQUE: Calculon, I had to do this. I knew your evil twin brother
planned to infect me with the virus so my evil twin model, Clonique, could
steal my identity and marry
him, so I exchanged places with her and then disguised myself as her funeral
monument!

Cut to a generic shot of Calculon’s shocked face. The ”All My Circuits”
theme plays. Cut back to the
couch. Most of the watchers are looking intrigued, but Fry is bored.

FRY: That’s terrible. They used the funeral-monument-disguise twist
back in Season 35, the famous ”funeral monument disguise” episode!
AMY (nitpicky): Well, spluh! Like anyone remembers more than two
seasons back anyway!
FRY (critical): And *that* was just a rip-off of William Shakespeare’s
heads contemporary blockbusting play ”A Winter’s Tale II: A Spring’s Tale”.

Leela looks a bit flabberghasted.

LEELA: You watched ”A Spring’s Tale”, Fry?
FRY (blushing): Not really. I read about it in the culture pages while
looking for cartoons, and… it just came back…
LEELA: I was just thinking… during my latest poker night with my old co-
workers, I won two tickets for ”Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow” tonight
at the Royal Albert
Hall, Brooklyn, and I don’t know whom to go with.
FRY (brow’s creasing): ”Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow”. Deep
play?
LEELA (a bit shifty): Very deep. It’s written by Ingmar Bergman’s head,
and at least two critics fell asleep during the production.
FRY: Very cultural?
LEELA (sighing): Extremely so.
FRY: Saturated with obscure quotations?
LEELA (taken aback): Uh… yes.
FRY (excited): At last, a chance to exercise my mind to the full extent of
its power!

Leela takes out the tickets.

BENDER (taking out a couple of tickets, too): Well, I’m sure Fry would
just *love* to come, but I also… ”won”… two tickets for the Sauna-thon Earth
Championship tonight…
FRY (slightly stern): I think you know what my natural choice is, Bender.

Fade out. Fade in to the exterior of a grand theatre building. Outside is a
statue of a fierce-looking man
in an old-fashioned British uniform, stepping on an American flag, and a
sign saying: ”THE ROYAL
ALBERT HALL. Founded by King Albert II of America after the War of
Dependence.”
Cut to a very boringly furnished stage. An actor in a suit is standing on
it.

ACTOR (declaiming): Tomorrow… and tomorrow… and tomorrow…

Cut to an audience of bored people. Fry and Leela, nicely dressed, are the
only ones looking
interested. Bender is seated next to Fry, his feet up on the chair back in
front.

FRY (still slightly wide-eyed): The shouting, the intellectual quality of
the
plot, the complete lack of dramatic movement… it works on so many levels!
BENDER (grouchy): I dunno. I’m bored.
LEELA: Well, the Sauna-thon doesn’t start until the play is finished!

Fade out. Fade in to show Fry and Leela sitting at a café. Night has fallen.
Leela is having a glass of
wine, and Fry is having a can of Löbräu. He seems to be weighing it in his
hand.

FRY (mumbling to himself): Percentage of titanium in canister, judged by
weight… thirty-two…
LEELA (in shock): You actually liked the play?
FRY (laughing suavely): Of course not. I was just as bored as everyone
else.
LEELA: But… you *understood* it?
FRY: Sure. How so?
LEELA (looking into the table): Nothing. You’ve changed, that’s all.
FRY (a bit worried): Do you like me any less for that?
LEELA (laughing): Of course not! If anything, I like you more now… we
can go places… and do things together…
FRY (hopeful): What kind of things?
LEELA: Well… I heard there’s an important exhibit of decadent art in the
Madison Cube Garden this week, and they serve drinks.
FRY: Ooh, art! (thinking for a moment) Ooh, drinks! (a bit sadder) Can
we go there tomorrow? I don’t want to wait…

They get up. Leela takes his hand.

LEELA: Of course. (smiling) You’ve broadened your mind, Fry. That’s
fantastic!

Cut to outside the theatre, which now has steam leaking out of the windows.
A crowd, some carrying
banners, are coming out. Bender, very angrily, hands over money to some
members of the robot
mafia.

BENDER: Well, how could *I* know Sweatin’ Jeffrey Greer would fail the
doping test?

He walks on, muttering to himself. Professor Farnsworth walks up next to
him, carrying a pennon and
a bottle of Löbräu.

FARNSWORTH: The Sauna-thon rules, don’t you think?
BENDER (muttering): Not when you bet on the only guy in the
championship who’s injected his skin with industrial silicone, Fry. To hell
with this, I’m going to find a
brothel.
FARNSWORTH (happily): Oh well, time to go back to my office.

Tilted view of him walking down a long, dark street, then stopping at a
crossing. Close up of his
confused face.

FARNSWORTH: Oh, my. I seem to have forgotten the way back.
(lightening up) I know! I’ll just ax whoever is in that black limousine with
the blacked-out windows that
has been following me since I came out of the theatre!

Shot of him walking up to aforementioned car.

FARNSWORTH (knocking on the window): Excuse me, do you know the
way to… (thinks for a moment) the Planet Express building?

The window rolls down a fraction.

VOICE (hoarse; slightly threatening): Professor Hubert Farnsworth?
FARNSWORTH (after some thinking): Yup, that’s me!

Camera glide around the limousine. SFX: a thud, and the door opening, then
closing. The car drives
off.
Cut to Fry and Leela standing on a sidewalk.

LEELA: I’ll see you at the exhibition tomorrow, then. (thoughtfully) Then
maybe we could go out for a meal…
FRY (grinning): Well, it’s only fair to the body, after you’ve fed your
soul.

Leela laughs, if a bit unsure.

LEELA: You’re amazingly witty, you know.

They hug briefly, then Leela walks off. Fry looks after her, then walks the
other way, almost skipping.

FRY (sotto voce): Being a genius is great! I hope the Professor is having
as splendid a time with his new IQ level.

Dramatic fade-in to Farnsworth, blindfolded and his hands bound, being led
through a corridor by
suited, sunshades-wearing goons. He is spun around, then forced back against
a wall.

FARNSWORTH (lightly confused): Oh, my.
GOON (drawing a large knife): Time to get rid of this!

He slices through the blindfold (which falls onto Farnsworth’s shoulder).
The Professor gasps. Cut to
his POV of a badly-lit conference room. Seated around a table are Mom,
Richard Nixon’s head, Al
Gore’s head, Judge Whitey, and Calculon.

NIXON (evil as ever): Well done, goons. Looks like the prisoner has
arrived.
FARNSWORTH (worried): Prisoner?
MOM (to Nixon, softly): Don’t be like that, young man. Hubert is an
honoured guest. (to the goons, not as nicely) Right, take the prisoner to
the basement and beat him till
he talks.
GORE (nicely): Maybe we should just ask him our questions first?
MOM (disappointed): Oh. Nixon, you take it.

She puts Nixon’s jar in the middle of the table.

NIXON: Welcome to our humble headquarters, Professor. I am Earth
President Richard Nixon. These are my associates: Al Gore, Mom, Judge
Whitey, and our media
representative, Calculon.

Calculon waves.

MOM (shaking Nixon’s jar, causing fluid to spill out): He *knows* who we
are, you dimwit!

Cut to Farnsworth.

FARNSWORTH (trying to look clever): Yes. Yes, of course I do. What’s
with your goons knocking me out and taking me here?
NIXON (conspiratory tone of voice): I presume you know of the
Peacemakers, Professor.
FARNSWORTH: Uh, the what?
NIXON (sighing): Well, as *we* all know… you do the infodump, Gore.
GORE (infodumping): The virginal, beautiful planet Paxon, in the east
arm of the galaxy, was colonised by Earth pioneers a few hundred years ago.
Generations later, the
entire planet was blown to smithereens in a nuclear war of unparallelled
ferocity. The only Paxans who
survived were those away from their planets due to work or holiday. These
banded together in a small
fleet, called themselves the Peacemakers, and swore to dedicate theirs and
their children’s lives to
eradicating war and aggression in the universe.
FARNSWORTH (nonplussed): Well, that sounds rather nice of them.
MOM (angrily): You fool! These dangerous madmen try to ”pacify”
people by killing everyone who opposes them! Whenever they conquer a planet,
they take all its
weaponry to their ever-growing Peace Fleet, which is now among the most
outstanding armed forces
in the galaxy! They have been known to bomb entire worlds to smithereens in
the face of resistance!
Crossing their path means death!
NIXON (continuing smoothly): Now, I have been informed that the Peace
Fleet is headed for Earth. Our defences will hardly delay their attack, and
the Democratic Order of
Planets has refused to help us, in case these rampant peaceniks get their
eyes on them. If my sources
are correct, the victorious Peacemakers will be here in a week.

Generic shot of Calculon gasping.

NIXON (to Calculon): Shut up, you knew this already.
FARNSWORTH (frightened): So… er… where do I come in?
NIXON (eyes narrowing): Like I said, the planetary defence and Earth
Army are too weak to stop the invaders.

Cue foreboding music.

NIXON (cont’d): Calculon tells me that according to the TV show ”The
Greatest Minds on Earth”, you are believed to have the greatest mind on
Earth. (zoom in at his slightly
crazed face) We need you to invent a super-weapon! A weapon able to defeat
the Peacemaker forces
in one go!
GORE (butting in): If it defeats them in two goes, that still counts.

Shot of Farnsworth, increasingly perplexed, looking around wildly.

WHITEY (aloof as always): And we need you to have it ready in one
week. If you don’t deliver, your punishment will be death.

Shot of Farnsworth gasping.

CALCULON (sulky): *He* gets to do it…
NIXON (smoother): I don’t think we need to go quite that far, your
honour. How about… (thinking for a moment) If you don’t deliver, your task
will be passed on to… Dr
Wernstrom!

Shot of Farnsworth gasping, rather more terrified this time.

FARNSWORTH (between rage and fear): No! Not that snivelling
incompetent! (getting on his knees, pleading) I’ll do it. I’ll do it, just
to spite Wernstrom, even if it means
certain failure!
CALCULON: Then we are agreed!

Cut to a large basement, filled with all kinds of ancient and futuristic
machinery and raw materials. The
Professor, wide-eyed, is being led through it by Mom, Calculon, Whitey and
two goons carrying the
politicians’ heads.

MOM (pointing at a very bare corner with a straw mattress and a candle
on a crate): That’s where you’ll sleep. Over there is the door to the
bathroom. Every day, meals and
profiteroles will be beamed down through the small matter transmitter. The
basement doors will be
locked with a time lock set not to budge until exactly one week from now.
They are made of two-feet
thick reinforced steel and impervious to any form of assault.
CALCULON (amiably): In case of fire, please light a candle before this
icon of St Christopher.

Farnsworth nods and smiles, evidently confused.

NIXON: We’ll leave you to it, then. You might as well start inventing
right
away.
FARNSWORTH: OK. (pointing at something offscreen) What do you call
that piece of equipment?
WHITEY (haughtily): That would be a telephone. Now get cracking.

Cut to Fry, sitting on the couch in his and Bender’s apartment. Some heavy
books are lying open next
to him. He is solving a crossword.

NEWSPAPER (electronic voice): Crossword finished in five minutes
thirty-six seconds!
FRY: Woo-hoo!

The vidphone rings. Fry gets it. Cut to a POV behind his shoulder, showing
the screen on which is
Professor Farnsworth in his basement.

FARNSWORTH (agitated): Fry! Fry, is this thing working?
FRY (worried): Professor? (looking closer) Where are you? It looks like
some kind of a workshop.
FARNSWORTH (hurriedly): That’s exactly it! Fry, the Cheesemakers are
coming to Earth, and they have the strongest weapons in the whole universe
because they’re
passivists!
FRY (confused): Cheesemakers? Passivists? You make no sense!
FARNSWORTH: Never mind! The important thing is, I need to invent a
super-weapon to take out large and well-armed forces within a week, or a
fate far worse than death
will occur!
FRY (slowly): But you can’t think up a weapon, because we exchanged
IQ level?
FARNSWORTH (thinking): Yes, that’s it. (thinking more) You got my
genius! Use it to design a weapon and save me and the rest of Earth or… or
I’ll disown you!
FRY: … then I’ll show you the blueprints, and you’ll build it?
FARNSWORTH: Whoa, you *are* ahead of me.

The screen goes snowy.

FARNSWORTH (distantly): Do it for me, Fry! (looking down) Ooh, what
did I just press?

The connection breaks. Fade out.
Fade in to show Fry pacing around the apartment, full-scrawled papers lying
all around him.

FRY (muttering): Giant trebuchet to throw burning pitch… no. Narwhal-
nosed submarine to bore into the hull of their ships… no. Spores of a
super-plague to wipe out their
armies… too much collateral damage. Army of flying monkeys… no, no, no. Why
does mass
destruction have to be so *hard*?

He sniffs his armpit.

FRY: I need a bath.

Cut to him lying in a bathtub, playing absent-mindedly with a rubber ducky
and a small destroyer, while
singing an aria from “Andrea Chénier” by Umberto Giordano.

FRY (good on lyrics; not as good on voice): “Si, fui soldato/ E glorioso
affrontato ho la morte/ Che, vile, qui mi vien data./ Fui letterato,/ Ho
fatto di mia penna arma feroce/
Contro gli ipocriti…”

ROBOT (OS, banging the wall): Keep it down!

Fry shuts up.

FRY (mumbling): A weapon to cause maximum destruction to the enemy
forces… which are larger and better equipped than ours…
BENDER (OS, knocking): Fry, open up! I lost my apartment keys!
FRY: Wha?

He jolts upright, his movement causing a wave of water to slosh out of the
bath.
Close up of Fry’s face. Dramatic music as understanding seems to dawn.
Cut to show Fry running naked through the apartment and throwing the door
open.

FRY: EUREKA!

Cut to Bender outside, looking him up and down. So do two giggling
hookerbots on each side of him.

BENDER (to the hookers, apologetically): This isn’t what it looks like,
dolls.

Fade out. Fade in to show Leela, again dressed up nice, walking along rows
of paintings (mostly fin-
de-siècle type ones, including a pre-Raphaelite version of Marge Simpson).
She looks quite annoyed
and looks at her wrist computer now and then.

LEELA (muttering): Where *is* he?

She looks closer at a painting. A robot guard, looking very highbrow, pulls
a sheet down in front of it.

ROBOT: Your forty minutes are up, ma’am.

Distance shot of her walking out of the Madison Cube Garden. Close up as she
walks into Fry, who’s
looking a bit worse for wear.

LEELA (relieved, yet annoyed): There you are, Fry! (looking away) For
some reason, I thought you’d remember the time.
FRY (smiling miserably): I’m sorry, Leela. I’ve been asleep ’til now. I
stayed up all night talking on the phone.
LEELA (a bit sharply): With whom?

Close up of Fry.

FRY (VO): I can’t tell her! If I tell her about the Professor, she’ll
realise
this isn’t my true intelligence level!
FRY: … a girl!

Leela looks sobered for a moment.

LEELA (shrugging it off): Well… I don’t really feel like paying the
entrance fees again, but how about going for that meal?
FRY (lightened): That sounds great! I’m famished!
LEELA (taking his hand; rather happier): How about Elzar’s Fine
Cuisine? I hear they serve uppers with their Elzar’s Selzar.
FRY: I would be delighted…

He turns and looks at an ornamental fountain. (The waterspout briefly forms
several shapes, including
what looks like Princess Leia’s hologram out of ”Star Wars”.)

FRY (distantly): The water is pulled up by the creation of a vacuum…

He takes out a clipboard and starts scribbling. Leela looks at him worriedly
for a moment, then starts
feeding the owls.

Montage: Fry helping Professor Farnsworth inventing. Cue music: ”Where Will
My Heart Take Me” by
Russell Watson. (You may remember it as the ”Enterprise” theme.)
Fry sits in Bender’s apartment, scrawling away at some amazingly complicated
blueprints. He then
shows them to the vidphone.
Farnsworth (with the help of some robots) builds the rudiments of a large
machine.
Fry eats with Leela at Elzar’s, scribbling on the napkins, when a waiter
gives him a phone. He rushes
into the men’s room with it, talking furiously and scribbling on a toilet
roll.
Fry puts a blueprint to the vidphone screen. Cut to Farnsworth putting a
carbon paper against the
screen and removing it with a perfect copy on.
Shot of the weapon, which is taking form quite nicely. It looks a bit like a
small Concorde plane, with
very large fans and more obscure things attached to it.
Shot of Fry and Leela walking through Central Park. Leela walks ahead, quite
angrily, while Fry is
staggering under blueprints and notes. He stumbles and falls face-first into
a puddle of water, then
looks up with an inspired look on his face.
Shot of Farnsworth eating profiteroles, then looking intently at an
upside-down blueprint.
Shot of Leela sitting alone at a table for two, looking at the time.
Shot of Fry, scruffier and more tired than ever, working away under a
flickering desk-lamp in his
bedroom.
Shot of Fry and Leela sitting on a bench at a beach, outlined against the
moon. Leela leans over to
him, and Fry falls asleep and rolls off the bench, evidently snoring.
End montage.
Shot of the sun rising over New New York. Cut to Fry, unshaven and
sorry-looking, waking in his bed
among the blueprints. He hobbles over to the vidphone and dials a number.
The screen shows
Professor Farnsworth, brushing his teeth. The weapon is seen faintly in the
background.

FARNSWORTH (indistinctly): Good news, everyone! After a week of
hard work, our… *your* invention is finished!

Close up of Fry’s face, smiling weakly.

FRY: Just like I planned. Sleek, gleaming and ready to kill.
FARNSWORTH (patting the hull): Now all she needs is a name.
FRY (thoughtfully): She is amazingly fast… fast enough to cause a ripple
in the air to raise the sea itself…
FARNSWORTH: Oh my, yes!
FRY (cont’d): … and she is going to fight the Peacemakers. I suggest…
(tracing his finger on the screen, leaving a greasy mark) the ”Discorde”.
FARNSWORTH: The Discorde! Beautiful!

Cut to the dungeon as he picks up a bottle of champagne. Close up of the
label, saying: ”In case of
ship naming, break glass”. Cut out to show him breaking it on the hull of
the Discorde. Cut back to
Fry’s side of the screen.

FARNSWORTH (distantly): I hereby christen this weapon of mass
destruction ”Discorde”, and may God save all who face her!

The screen goes blurry.

FRY: I’m sorry, Professor… I seem to have another call…

He fiddles with the controls. The screen now shows a close-up of Leela’s
angry face.

FRY: Leela?
LEELA (harshly): Do you hear me, Fry? I don’t care what you’ve been
doing this last week… I’m aware that broadening your mind causes some side
effects… but are you
aware that out of all the dates we set, you missed half, and during the
other half you were too
preoccupied to even *talk* to me?

Close up of Fry’s haggard face.

FRY (genuinely terrified): Leela, I’m sorry…
LEELA (self-righteously): That’s not enough! Fry, I want to see you at
Elzar’s in forty-five minutes. If anything is more *important* than me, you
don’t have to go!
FRY (desperate): I promise, Leela! I’ll be there!

SFX: receiver slamming down. The screen goes black.
Cue dramatic music. Shots of Fry washing, shaving and getting his best suit
on. He looks at a clock,
then rushes for the door. SFX: phone ringing.

FRY (desperate): I haven’t got the *time*!

Cut to the screen, showing Professor Farnsworth. He’s no longer in the
dungeon, but apparently sitting
in the cockpit of the Discorde.

FARNSWORTH: Fry! This is urgent! Please go to the Planet Express
hangar!
FRY (despairing): Why?
FARNSWORTH: I don’t know how to use this thing! I got it transported to
the hangar, but I don’t know how to fly it, nor how to use the tidal wave
weapon! You designed this
thing! You know how it works! I need you!
FRY (frustrated): I can’t, not now!
FARNSWORTH: But Fry…

The screen blurs for a moment.

FARNSWORTH (distantly, with much interference): Fry… message…
only a moment ago… Peacemakers… few minutes… you must…

The screen dies. Bird’s-eye-view of Fry rushing into the street. Close up of
his pained face. Cut out as
he stands at a crossroads, trying to decide which way to take.
Cut to Leela, sitting alone at a table for two, looking idly at the menu.
She is wearing her usual black
evening dress and has her hair up. Every now and then, she glances out the
window.
Cut to Farnsworth, sleeping in the cabin of the Discorde.
Cut back to Fry.

FARNSWORTH (VO, ghostly): I need you!
LEELA (VO, ghostly): If anything is more *important* than me…

Close up of Fry’s face as it sets. Rain clouds are gathering above.

FRY: They both… they both depend on me…

He looks in one direction.

FRY: The Professor needs me to save the Earth from an invasion force!
How can I hesitate?

He looks in the other.

FRY: But I promised. If I betray Leela’s trust, I won’t *deserve* victory.
I
don’t want to live in a world where she hates me.

Cut to outside Elzar’s Fine Cuisine. Rain is hammering down. Shot of Fry,
drenched, running up to the
door and pulling it open. A few seconds later he runs out again, dragging
Leela.

LEELA (out of breath): Fry… what…
FRY: No time to explain! Our date has been moved!

Cut to them both, dripping with rain, climbing into the Discorde’s cockpit.
Professor Farnsworth
lightens up.

FRY (explaining): … cause a tidal wave of titanic proportions. You’re the
pilot here, but I designed the plane, so I’ll show you how to use the
weapon. (a pause) You’re not mad
at me for wrecking the date, are you?
LEELA (still a bit shaken): Fry, of course not! If the Peacemakers destroy
the planet, there won’t *be* a date!
FARNSWORTH: Enough talk. Let’s give them heck!

Cut to an exterior view as the hangar roof opens and the Discorde flies into
the air. It hovers there for
a moment. Cut back into the cockpit.

LEELA: You said they landed minutes ago… where *are* they?
FARNSWORTH (looking out): I’m confused. Alien invasions always
center on New New York. Where else could they be? (looking at the controls)
What does this thing
do?

A cover slides off, revealing a TV screen. The news programme comes on. The
picture behind Linda
and Morbo shows a blood-spattered Peace sign.

LINDA (chirpy as ever): … this programme for an urgent message. The
Peacemakers have landed, and they want our eternal subjugation.
MORBO (angrier than ever): Morbo wants the Peacemakers to get their
dirty hands off Morbo’s planet!
LINDA (giggling): In a moment, we will get a transmission from the
invaders’ beachhead in Crystal Tokyo.

Cue dramatic music. Leela, Fry and Professor Farnsworth look at each other.

LEELA: If we don’t stop them, Tokyo will be destroyed! (grabbing the
controls) Now, eastward!
FRY: In fact, westward will be quicker.
LEELA (a bit miffed): Well, you *are* the genius.

Cue music: the rousing ”Gekiganger” riff (from ”Martian Successor
Nadesico”.) Shot of the Discorde
blazing through the sky.
Cut to a large, glitzy square in Tokyo. Some very well-armed and menacing
spaceships have landed.
A few Peacemaker leaders, dressed in suits and looking rather bureaucratic
(if grim) step out, followed
by a black-uniformed army. Quite a crowd is gathering around them.

PEACEMAKER LEADER (female, around 30): We come in peace.

Cut to Zapp Brannigan, at the head of the Earth Army.

ZAPP (to the soldiers): Fire at will!

The leader makes a sign, and a rocket-launcher on the main ship swivels
around. SFX: gigantic
explosion. The crowd shudders.

LEADER: People of Earth! I implore you to forever cede all means of
aggression and to join us, the Peacemakers, in our pacifist ways. Those who
refuse will be dealt with
as was your army!

Cut back to the cockpit as Leela is steering it in over the Japanese
coastline. Fry is looking at the TV
screen.

FRY: They disintegrated our entire army!
LEELA: Was Zapp there?
FRY: Yes…

Leela seems to be straining for a moment.

LEELA: What a senseless waste of human life. (looking at the controls)
Do I turn on the fan thingy now?
FRY: No…

Cue faintly eerie music. Close up of his face as he looks nauseous.

FARNSWORTH (worried): Fry, what happened?
FRY (regaining control): I was feeling a little queasy, that’s all.
Probably
due to that sickening display of death. No, you need to start at the
epicentre of the designated deluge
and gain momentum by flying out to sea, which will cause the antimatter
sub-fans to create a vacuum
and…
LEELA (confused): Say that again?
FRY (pointing): Fly in over that square!

Cut back to the square where the Peacemakers are gloating over the cowed
people. The leader is
holding an old-looking scroll, complete with ribbons and seals.

LEADER (to the one next to her): Have we got the TV and radio?
PEACEMAKER: We’re on the air, madam.
LEADER (unrolling the scroll): As our first action, we are going to read
you the Peacemaker Riot Act of 2803.

Shot of the people looking up as the Discorde flies in, at low speed, not
very far above their heads.
The Peacemakers are unperturbed.

LEADER (reading): ”Be it known to all, that those who have heard the
Riot Act, and yet persist in aggression against the august and sacrosanct
Peacemakers, render
themselves, their family, their town and their planet…”

Cut back to the cockpit. The words are heard quite well from large
loudspeakers.

LEELA (panicking): We’ve got to do something! If we listen to this and
then attack, they will be legally justified to destroy the Earth!
LEADER (VO): ”… liable to complete and unmitigated destruction…”

Cut to Fry, who’s slumped in his chair, visibly on the point of passing out.
Leela shakes him.

LEELA: Fry! Fry, how do you start this thing?

Fry mumbles incomprehensibly. Leela hits controls at random. Cut to outside,
as the Discorde lands,
and its door flies open. A Peacemaker walks up to it. Shot of Fry, Leela and
Professor Farnsworth
staring at him.

LEADER (finishing): ”… as attested by the hearing of this Act.”
PEACEMAKER (smarmily): Well, well, well. What have we here? Some
warmongers trying to play heroes? You *do* know that any kind of aggression
now will doom your
planet, don’t you? After all, you have heard the Act, you cannot unhear it…
and we come in peace.
FRY (defiant): Well, you’ll go in… in…

Cue ominous music.

FRY: Something… something witty and… (clutching his head) No! NO!
My mind! My beautiful mind! I’ve gone STUPID!

He curls up in his seat, sobbing.

FRY: Professor! That means… you’re the smart one… please help us
now…

Close up of Professor Farnsworth’s face, looking very blank.

FARNSWORTH (amiably): You what?
LEELA: Professor!
FARNSWORTH (amiably): You what?

Cut back.

PEACEMAKER (stern): May I ax you to leave this vehicle, before we
decide to interpret this as an act of war, and react accordingly.

Fry and Leela step out, subjugated. Professor Farnsworth remains. The
Peacemaker tries to pull him
out.

FARNSWORTH (suddenly triumphant): Like heck you don’t!

He pulls out a raygun and shoots the Peacemaker, who staggers back and
falls. Zoom out. Dramatic
music as the other Peacemakers turn on the Discorde.

LEADER (sadistically): Oh, I had so hoped it wouldn’t come to this. By
the Riot Act, the punishment for this unprovoked violence will be the
destruction of Earth!

Cut to Farnsworth, smiling.

LEADER (a bit concerned): You *did* hear the Riot Act, didn’t you?

Music slowly turns triumphant. Zoom in on Farnsworth, his smile now devious,
raising his fist and
opening it. Shot of a hearing aid lying in his palm. He slowly steps into
the Discorde, and it lifts off.

LEADER (shrieking): No! NO!

Distant shot of the Discorde flying out to sea, swerving and returning, this
time at the head of a
gigantic tidal wave. Shot of the Peacemakers and their ships being swept out
to sea. Cut to Tokyo
being inundated. Gojira (that’s ”Godzilla” if you’re not Japanese) is seen
rising out of the water,
carrying a small child in either hand. Fade out.
Fade in to show Fry, Leela and Professor Farnsworth being hailed as heroes
in the drenched remains
of the city.

LEELA (to reporter): So, thanks to a timely exchange of intelligence
levels, we managed to save Earth from the Peacemakers with no casualties…
well, apart from the
armed forces, and everyone who died in the flood. But you really shouldn’t
be axing me. You should
be praising the true hero of this hour.

She walks over to Professor Farnsworth, hugs him and gives him a kiss on the
cheek. Black-out into a
small love heart shape.

NARRATOR (cheesily): See! More awe-inspiring awfulness in the
upcoming TALES OF INTEREST!

Regular ”Tales of Interest” screen. Break.

THIRD ACT. “World Without Scruffy”

Cut back to the room. Scruffy has finished repairing the hole in the floor
and is now putting floor polish
on the boards. Professor Farnsworth rubs his cheek thoughtfully.

FARNSWORTH (snapping out of it): Well, then. Next question?
AMY: Ooh, me, me! What if I had breast implants?
LEELA (not quite under her breath): It would be the same, only more so.
AMY (slightly hurt): I’m sure that was *really* hurtful, Leela.
SCRUFFY (looking up): Scruffy has a question.
FARNSWORTH (ignoring him): Anyone?
AMY: Breast implants!
FRY (mischievous): I know! What if Leela had breast implants, just like
Amy doesn’t?
LEELA (annoyed): No way! Better give the question to… whoever
wanted it…
SCRUFFY (eagerly): Scruffy does!
ZOIDBERG (butting in): ZOIDBERG!
FARNSWORTH (decisively): Scruffy gets the question.

Close up of Scruffy putting the skullcap on, his face suddenly sly.

SCRUFFY: What if Scruffy didn’t exist?
BENDER (deeply sarcastic): Ooh, this one’ll be a thriller!

The Professor pours several litres of petrol through a funnel into the
machine. Cue purple swirls.
Shot of Fry walking up to the Planet Express building, carrying a shopping
bag with several very long
baguettes sticking out of it. Zoom in as he enters the hallway.

FRY (calling out): I’m back! Sandwich time!

Cut to the kitchen, where all of them are sitting, finishing off some toast.
Standing along a worktop is a
very long toaster, apparently sized for baguettes. Fry is sitting right next
to it. The whole kitchen is
looking rather dirtier than usual.

FRY (patting his stomach): Ah, toasted baguette… the best thing since
sliced bread.
AMY (a bit queasy): I’m not sure… it tasted a bit strange today. Has that
toaster been cleaned at all?
FRY (derisive): Pfft! You don’t *clean* toasters, you just turn them on
until everything inside burns. That’s the miracle of science.
ZOIDBERG: Shaking the crumbs out out might be a good idea, at least.
You laymen have no idea what hideous diseases might be spawning in there…
FARNSWORTH: Well, amazing as it seems, the prawn-coloured freak
has a point. Fry, clean the toaster.
FRY (pointing at Leela, who’s at the far end of the table): Leela’s
closer.
LEELA (critical): Stop being so childish. (sniffing) It’s about time
someone cleaned this kitchen anyway. Fry, you do it.
FRY: Oh, I will. (sotto voce) Later.

Fade out. Fade in to the same kitchen, looking even more disgusting. The
employees are again
having baguettes, but nobody is looking very hungry (apart from Fry).
Caption: ONE WEEK LATER.

LEELA (angrily): Fry, weren’t you supposed to clean the kitchen a week
ago?
FRY (defensively): I was off sick.
LEELA (snapping): You were off sick because the unwashed plates gave
you food poisoning! Do you see a pattern here?
FRY: Well, the plates got dirty during Amy’s kitchen-cleaning week!
AMY (whiny): Everyone knows *I* can’t do the dishes! The detergent kills
the nano-bots who keep my nails clean!
FRY: Back in my day, we used to have machines to wash the dishes.
We called them “washing machines”. (thinking) Or sometimes “wives”.
AMY: The washing machine’s broken. The nano-bots in my fingernails
seeped into it and ate the circuits, or something.
FARNSWORTH: If only we had a janitor, he could easily fix it.
HERMES: Why doesn’t Bender clean up? As a machine, his purpose is
to serve mon by doing menial tasks!
BENDER (standing up, angry): HEY! As an organic lifeform, your
purpose is to eat, reproduce and decompose, but I don’t see *you* doing any
of those things!
HERMES (complacently): Oh, point.

He takes a bite of his toasted baguette, swallows, then looks worried.

HERMES: Dis bread *really* isn’t good.
LEELA: That does it! After I finish this bite, I’m shaking the toaster
myself!

Cue ominous music. She bites her baguette, then clutches her stomach.

LEELA (nauseous): I don’t… feel… well…

Dramatic chord. Bird’s-eye-view of everyone at the table (except for Bender
and Zoidberg) blanching
and doubling up.

BENDER (not overly nice): What’s up with them?
ZOIDBERG (calling out): MEDIC!
BENDER: You *are* the medic, shrimpy.
ZOIDBERG: Oh.

Fade out.
Ext. shot, the Planet Express building, night. Fade in to the sickbay. Shot
of Fry, a bit the worse for
wear, lying in bed. Zoidberg walks past, carrying a photogen lamp, and puts
a pincer tenderly on Fry’s
forehead.

ZOIDBERG (kindly): Everything’s gonna be all right. How are you
feeling?
FRY (weakly, sounding like his nose is blocked up): My head hurts, my
neck is stiff, it hurts to look directly at the light, I’m sniffly, and I’ve
thrown up things I didn’t even know
I’ve eaten.
ZOIDBERG (soothing): Remember, the important thing is not to panic.
(yelling) If you panic, it might cause your brain to explode and plaster
itself to the insides of your eyes!
FRY (hurriedly): Have you still got the sick bucket?
ZOIDBERG: I’ll get it.

He runs off, clipping one of the points of Fry’s hair in the process. Zoom
out to show Leela, just as ill,
leaning on one elbow in the opposite bed.

LEELA (tired): I think it would be better to take us to a hospital.
ZOIDBERG (OS, preoccupied): We have to isolate the spread. This
appears to be a whole new disease. Also, if it gets any worse, your life
will be in the trusty pincers of
Dr Zoidberg.

Bender sits up in the bed next to Fry.

BENDER: I think that’s what she’s worried about.
FRY (weakly): Hey, you’re not sick, what are you doing here?
BENDER: Takin’ it easy, what does it look like?

Shot of him putting his feet up on the bedstead, while drinking whisky out
of an IV tube. Fade out.
Ext., dawn. Cut to Zoidberg in his office, which has been turned into a
miniature lab, full of stands for
test tubes and similar, and also scrawled notes. He leafs through a medical
index, then pauses.

ZOIDBERG (looking up): EUREKA!
FARNSWORTH (OS, faintly): You’re not going to run naked, are you?

Shot of Zoidberg walking out into the kitchen.

ZOIDBERG (contentedly): I have managed to analyse the germ and
realise that if left untreated, it will kill all my co-workers! (a bit
sadly) Curse my Hippocratic Oath!
(happy again) Now, in order to test my hypothesis, I need a sample of the
infectant…

POV: from inside the baguette toaster. Zoidberg leans closer, his face
grotesquely big, and jams his
pincers down. Black-out.
SFX: violent sizzle. Cut to the sickbay.

LEELA (calling out): ZOIDBERG?

Shot of the sick ones, wrapped in blankets, lurching up to the kitchen door.
Their jaws drop. Cut to
their POV. The corpse of Zoidberg is still standing by the toaster, pincers
jammed into it. It’s quite a
nice grilled lobster colour. Close up of Bender, making a sniffing noise.

BENDER: Mmm, anyone for seafood?

SFX: vomiting.

BENDER (annoyed): No way am I cleaning *that* up!

Cut back to the sickbay. The sufferers are looking even more wilted, except
for Fry, who’s roughly the
same.

FARNSWORTH (weaker than ever): Maybe… maybe Zoidberg actually
had some reason to go rooting through the toaster. Maybe he was on the verge
of discovering a cure!
I’ll have a look in his office.
AMY (in pain): Don’t count on it. He *was* Zoidberg, after all.

Shot of Farnsworth tottering into Zoidberg’s office, picking up some notes
and reading them. His faint
face brightens. Cue dramatic music.

FARNSWORTH (triumphantly): I’ve got it! Before he died, he wrote down
a recipe for the cure!
OTHERS (OS, faintly): Really?

Shot of Farnsworth, with more of a spring in his step, pacing through the
main room.

FARNSWORTH (still giddily): Now all we need are the ingredients,
and…

Zoom out to show him stepping into the hole in the floor. He screams briefly
as he falls. SFX: an icky
thud.

LEELA (OS): Professor?

She enters the room and looks down the hole.

LEELA: Oh for the love of Cliff.

Fade out. Fade in to show her, followed by Fry, edging slowly down the
stairs. (The camera angle is
such that the carnage isn’t actually seen.)

FRY (staring): I feel sick. (thinking) No wait, that’s the horrible
disease.
LEELA (biting her lip): You want to LIVE?

She picks up the blood-spattered notes, very gingerly.

LEELA (swaying briefly): This is a list of chemicals… we need to get it to
a pharmacy. If only we had someone to send.
FRY (trying to support her): I can go, Leela.
LEELA: No, you’d just spread the disease. We’ll have to find a carrier.
(thinking) To carry the shopping list, that is.

Cut to outside the building. The Drug Addict walks past, playing with a
yo-yo. The letterbox rattles for a
moment.

LEELA (OS, whispering urgently): Here! Over here!
ADDICT (looking around in panick): Where? Where? (looking into the
letterbox) Oh, there.

His POV of Leela, very pale and wearing a doctor’s mouthpiece almost up to
her eye.

LEELA (still whispering voice): I need you to buy these items from the
drugstore. Lives are at stake!

She slips him the notes, carefully sealed in a plastic bag.

ADDICT (happily): The drugstore! I know where that is!

Shot of a building with a sign saying: DRUGSTORE – OVER THE COUNTER DRUGS
ONLY. Shot of
him walking happily into it. Two chemists glare at him from behind the
counter.

CHEMIST #1: You again? How often do we have to tell you, these things
aren’t for recreational use! Get lost!
CHEMIST #2 (indicating a row of brightly-coloured feathers): Except the
Vurt feathers, but nobody buys those.
ADDICT (dismayed): But lives are at stake!
CHEMIST #1 (snapping): Recreate THIS, ya junkie!

He takes out a raygun and shoots the customer dead.

CHEMIST #2 (worried): I really wish you’d take an anger management
course, Mike.
CHEMIST #1 (happy again): Nah, this way is better. Now, let’s loot the
corpse.

Shot of his friend, crouching by the body, opening the bag with the notes.

CHEMIST #2: This looks like the formula for some medication… but I
can’t read it.
CHEMIST #1: Let me have a look.

He licks his finger and shuffles the papers around for a while.

CHEMIST #1: Gee! Can *anyone* read doctors’ handwriting, I ax you?
CHEMIST #2: I don’t feel well…

Cut back to Fry and Leela in the Planet Express hallway. Fry is about the
same as before, whereas
Leela has obviously taken a turn for the worse.

FRY: I hope that guy will be back with the cure.
LEELA (very tired): I can’t wait for him here. Need sleep. (holding out
her
hand) Help, Fry?

Cue slowly ominous music as they walk up the stairs together. POV inside the
sickbay doors as they
open. Fry and Leela stare.

FRY (eyes welling with tears): God, no! NO!

Dramatic chord. Bird’s-eye-view of the sickbay. Amy and Hermes are dead. Cut
back as Leela totters
to her own bed.

BENDER (heading for the door): I guess there’ll be some weeping and
moaning now… well, I’m out of here.
LEELA (curling up, shivering): So… co…
FRY (panicking): Leela, don’t say it! I’ll get you things…

Fade out. Fade in to show him running into the sickbay with several blankets
and a hotwater bottle.
Leela is stretched out, evidently near death.

FRY (crying): LEELA! (kneeling by her bed) Leela, don’t… don’t leave
me here…

He reaches out to kiss her. Leela groans, turns over and dies. Cue tragic
music.
Cut to the news programme. Morbo is looking unusually happy, whereas Linda
is very faint and blows
her nose often.

LINDA (unhappy): New New York is in a state of fear, after a violently
infectious disease has spread from an inner city drugstore. The symptoms are
headaches, nausea, a
weakened immune system and death within twenty-four hours. Those infected
are adviced to contact
a gravedigger.
MORBO (triumphantly): Morbo has never felt this good in his life!
LINDA (unusually sharp): I know I don’t say this often, Morbo, but shut
up!

Pan along the streets of New New York, now littered with corpses. Those
still alive hurry past, pallid
and pressing bouquets of flowers to their faces. A ragged man comes by,
picking up corpses on a
wheelbarrow.

MAN (ringing a bell): Bring out yer dead! Bring out yer dead!

He looks around, clutches his stomach and collapses. A yuppie walking on the
other side of the street
rushes up and puts the new corpse on the wheelbarrow.

YUPPIE (ringing the bell experimentally): Bring out your dead!

Ext. shot of the Temple of Robotology. Cut to inside, which is packed with
robots. Electronic-sounding
organ music. Preacherbot is standing in a pulpit fitted with what is
evidently a karaoke machine.

PREACHERBOT (preaching): Certainly, the good Lord has seen fit to
spare us from this organic scourge! But this is not the time to rejoice!
This is the time to help and
succour our fleshly brethren!
BENDER: Aw, do we have to?
PREACHERBOT (looking at the scrolling text for a moment): Not really.
HEDONISM-BOT: Party, party!

Shot of a ragged band of survivor trailing towards a river in a very
hot-looking landscape, vultures
circling over them. A dilapidated sign reads: EL RÍO GRANDE. They reach a
bridge with a guard post,
and Mexican guards jump out, rayguns with bayonets trained on them.

GUARD: You’re followed by vultures!
FUGITIVE LEADER: They’re bald-headed eagles!
GUARD (aggressively): Go back to where you came from! We don’t want
your diseases! We’ve seen what happened with the carriers they sent out from
Norfolk!
FUGITIVE LEADER (despairing): But America is a shambles! We’re
clean, we promise…

He bends over and throws up. The guards cock their guns.

GUARD: Back off, cabrón!

The man spits in his face, and the guard shoots him. The other guards slowly
edge away.
Spinning newspaper with the headline: OUTBREAK OF DISEASE QUARANTINES
AMERICA – WAR
AND FAMINE LOOMING. Sub-headline: JERUSALEM AUTHORITIES REPORT TEMPLE
REBUILT.

Cut to the news studio. Linda is slumped across the table, evidently dead.

MORBO: Some carriers of the disease have managed to escape the
quarantine and infect the outside world. This has led to unanimous hatred of
America and the
quarantine of the entire planet.

Cut to the Australian Slave (seen in e. g. “A Pharaoh to Remember”) standing
in front of the Sydney
Opera House.

AUSTRALIAN SLAVE (yelling): Keep your germs at home, yankees!

The yuppie with the corpse cart appears behind him. Zoom out to show that
they’re both standing at
Monument Beach, littered with corpses.

YUPPIE (whipping him): Keep picking corpses, slave!

Cut to the White House, ext. Vultures are perching on the gables. Cut to a
desk with Nixon’s head, a
face-mask fitted around the jar, looking furious.

NIXON: Those foreign devils are shooting American citizens merely for
spreading the disease! I’ll *show* the Commie scum!

Zoom out as a robotic arm detaches from his jar and presses a red button on
his desk. Cut to a full
view of the office as an aide rushes in.

AIDE: Mr President! Nuclear missiles have been launched against all
countries!
NIXON (happy): That’ll teach them to mess with the US! Arrooo!
AIDE: But Mr President, as ruler of the Earth, those countries belong to
you as well!
NIXON (suddenly grim): Well, there’s no calling the missiles back.
AIDE: Yes there is! These are voice-controlled missiles!
NIXON: Well… I just don’t want to!

The aide sneezes and falls over.

NIXON: NO SLEEPING IN MY OFFICE!

Fade out. Fade in to Fry’s unconscious face. Zoom out as he slowly blinks
and sits up.

FRY: Hey, I’m alive! (looking around) And everyone I know is dead,
again… but hey, I’m alive! What’s up with that?

Shot from behind his shoulder as he walks up to the window and looks down at
the carnage.

FRY: I’m alone in a plague-ridden world. What should I do?

Cut to him sitting down on the couch and turning on the TV. Cut to show
Morbo with a microphone,
standing outside an impervious-looking building.

MORBO: Inside this maximum-security lab, the top research scientists of
New New York have managed to isolate the disease, and are making a futile
attempt to change the
grim fate of this world!

Close up of a bubbling test tube. Zoom out to show Dr Wernstrom, surrounded
by other scientists,
holding it heroically into the light.

WERNSTROM (triumphant): It was a long, hard struggle of the
indomitable human spirit… but at last, we have developed a super-form of the
infectant capable of
killing aliens and robots!

The other scientists cheer and clink glasses. Cut back to Morbo, who doubles
up and sneezes.

MORBO (faintly): Morbo regrets nothing!

Cut to the interior of a spaceship as it touches down on Earth. On board it
are two aliens with tentacles
and only one eye each, showing a marked resemblance to Kang and Kodos from
“The Simpsons”.

ALIEN #1 (triumphant): Over a thousand years of queuing for this planet,
but it paid off! The Earth is ripe for the plucking!

SFX: air-locks opening.

ALIEN #2 (eye watering): Are you feeling a bit funny?

Cut back to Fry, sitting lazy and depressed in front of the TV. SFX: knock
on the door.

FRY: Someone answer that.

The knocking gets more insistant.

FRY (annoyed): Gee, am I the last man on Earth or something?

He suddenly blanches and looks around. SFX: door getting torn off its
hinges.

MAYOR POOPENMEYER (OS, panicky): There he is!

A dozen of the diseased people, led by the Mayor, rush into the room, grab
Fry and carry him off. Cut
to show him being tied down on a trestle-table in a park. The diseased ones
are forming a circle
around him, waving knives and growling (except when sneezing or throwing
up).

FRY (struggling): Can’t we talk about this?
POOPENMEYER (standing by, wearing an Aztec-like head-dress and
holding a large knife): No! You are still alive and untouched. (zealously)
That means that the disease-
gods have chosen you as a scapegoat of their revenge, and we can only
appease them by dissecting
you alive!
FRY (scared): That makes no sense!
WOMAN: We’re a frenzied mob, what do you expect? Logic?
POOPENMEYER: Folks, folks, when you’re ready…

Cut to Fry’s terrified face. Cut to his POV, moving slowly along the line of
people. One by one, they fall
over, curl up and die. Fry manages to get free of the half-tied ropes and
walks off towards the Planet
Express.

FRY (shaking his head): This is crazy. How did it come to this? Why am I
the only one alive?

A small flying saucer hovers before him. It opens, and a Nibblonian sticks
his head out.

FRY (jumping back): WAUGH!
NIBBLONIAN (sagely): Because your 20th century immune system
defeated the germs, and also you are the Mighty…

He starts sneezing, and the saucer crashes in a small fireball. Fry shrugs
and walks on. Bird’s-eye-
view of him entering the building. SFX: echoing footsteps. He walks through
the hangar. Close up of
his face as his jaw drops, and he screams. Cue creepy music.
Cut to Fry’s POV. Leela, Hermes, Dr Zoidberg, Professor Farnsworth and Amy
are doing various fix-
up jobs on the ship and loading things into it. (Zoidberg is still shiny red
and Farnsworth looks
inexpertly stitched together, whereas the others are still pale and
dishevelled.) Fry screams. They turn
around and face him, faces indifferent and pupils scarily large.

LEELA (in a deep, echoing voice, rather like the goa’uld out of “Stargate
SG-1”, but more multiple-sounding): He has arrived.
OTHERS (similarly): So have we.
FRY (backing away, waving his arms in terror): You’re not my real
friends! You’re some kind of zombies or walking horrors or lawyers! Get off
my ship!
LEELA (evidently trying to sound soothing): Don’t be afraid. We are the
culture of germs who bred in the baguette-toaster. We have infiltrated the
nervous systems of your
friends’ bodies and are manipulating them as vehicles.

Cut back to Fry’s face as he relaxes for a moment.

FRY: Ah, then everything’s fine and dandy… WAAAAUUGH!
FARNSWORTH: We have a proposition to make, Philip J. Fry. These
reanimated bodies are good enough, but a living, immune creature on our side
would be a great help.
We are on the verge of leaving this planet we have colonised and travel to
other worlds, that we may
kill all organic life, take over the bodies, and spread our bounds wider
still!
FRY (backing even further): No way!

Cut to his POV as the Leela creature walks towards him, blurred until she
looks almost normal. She
presses her face against his. Cut back.

LEELA (the voice almost sounding like her normal one): You *shall*
serve us, Fry. We have complete access to your friends’ memories. (putting
her lips against his cheek)
We know your weak spots…

Fry pushes her back.

FRY (excited and not a little crazy): Well, I know my *friends’* weak
spot!

He feels along the wall and grabs hold of a flamethrower.

FRY: FIRE!

Close up of his fire-lit face as he toasts the reanimated bodies. They
collapse in a charred heap.

HERMES (dying voice): You just made a *big* mistake, mon…

Cut to the corpse-littered street outside the building. Music goes really
creepy. Camera glide along the
street as all the bodies (with the same vacant look) come to life and lurch
towards the door. Cut back
to Fry, listening. He looks around and starts to run. Shot of him stumbling
down the stairs and into the
lab from the previous segment.

FRY (slamming the door shut): I’m safe in here!

Close up of him fiddling with the lock.

FRY (growling): I can’t believe it! It’s stuck! If only we’d had someone
to
fix it!

He drags a chest of drawers in front of the door, then leans back against
the wall.

FRY (sighing with relief): Safe for now…

Close up of the big red Armageddon button on the wall as he presses his
elbow against it. It slides in.
Fade out.
Fade in to an idyllic-looking hill where a young couple, completely nude, is
sitting in the high grass
under an apple tree. The New New York skyline is just visible in the
background.

MAN: Thank goodness we got out of there in time, even though we had
to burn all our clothes to kill the germs.
WOMAN (taking his hand): You know, I’ve only known you for a few
hours, but I like you already. What’s your name?
MAN (blushing slightly): Adam.
WOMAN (smiling): Nice. My name’s Lilith.

They lean in for a kiss, then turn their faces towards the camera in shock.
Cut to behind them as a
giant wave of fire rises from New New York, burning it to a crisp, and
rushes towards them. Bright
light. SFX: kaboom.
Cut back to the room. Everyone is rather shocked, except for Scruffy, who
seems smug.

SCRUFFY: Scruffy hopes you’ve all learnt a valuable lesson from this.
BENDER: Hell yes we have! We’ve learnt that some people are such
losers, they can screw up the world by not even being there!
AMY (confused): I don’t get it. Why was this thing centred on Fry all the
time?
FRY: Yeah! Where was Scruffy?

The others glare at him, then look around.

HERMES: Where *is* Scruffy?

Cut to Scruffy walking through the building, humming to himself and
scratching himself every now and
then. The camera follows him out of the building, until he walks into the
mist and disappears. Cue
eerie music. Fade out.
Fade in to a dark, spiky, almost organic-looking palace outlined against a
starry purple sky. It is
somehow built on a narrow rocky peak rising from the sea. A reptile-like
bird flits briefly in front of the
camera. Caption: SAME PLACE, HIGHER PLANE OF EXISTENCE.
Cut to a very alien-looking hall, as Scruffy materialises in the middle. (He
is now wearing ornate
armour and an embroidered cloak.) Huge, dark thrones are placed in a circle
around him, but their
inhabitants aren’t visible from this angle. Scruffy kneels.

VOICE #1 (foreboding): Rise, Ambassador Scruffy. What news from your
world?
SCRUFFY (standing up): Milord, you may take the memories from my
brain whenever you wish.
VOICE #2 (pleased): Our inscrutable plan is successful. Remember,
Ambassador… at one word from you, it will be our pleasure to unleash against
this “Earth” the full
power of our wrath.

Close up of Scruffy, grinning.

SCRUFFY: Oh, I don’t think so. They’ve been nice to me.

Zoom in as he winks at the camera.

SCRUFFY: So far.

Cue music: “The End Of The World” (Sylvia Dee and Arthur Kent). Roll
credits. THE END.

Buddies