The People

CECIL wanders in a harsh, empty desert—stretching out around him for untold miles into the horizon. 

He's been walking a long time.

VOICE OVER: Ancient people associated the desert with God. Or gods. They would go to look for him. Or her. Them. It. Out there, without food or water or shelter. Depriving themselves of all life giving necessities until God, or the gods, made itself known to the believer. Sacrifice. Sacrifice of self. This is what you needed to give, just for the chance to have an encounter with the All.

Cecil collapses in the dust. 

VOICE OVER: Lots of people have died in the desert. 

Cecil's open mouth opens and closes like a gasping fish on land, dust sticking to his lips.

VOICE OVER: But at the crucial moment. Right before death. People would find God. Or God would find them. Communion.

Cecil looks up one last time to see a WHITE VAN at the crest of a sand dune in the distance. Is it a hallucination? Are there people there—looking back at him—all in a row?

VOICE OVER: The modern explanation, rationale, is that depriving yourself of food and water, and exposure to brain-boiling heat and chill of night, came with hallucinations. Mirage. Peyote can contribute to that effect, as well.

Cecil staggers to his feet, limping and collapsing in the general direction of the white van. 

VOICE OVER: But when your vision begins, when the line between life and death starts to fade, and God Himself—Itself, Herself, whatever—speaks to you... what little brains you have left can be a blessing.

Cecil arrives at the van, a long trail stretching back across the desert behind him from the direction he collapsed from. He stands and faces the white van. There's a gravity about it.

Cecil slides open the side-door of the van, revealing the pitch black darkness inside. 

RED PLASTIC CUPS fall out of the fan at Cecil's feet, into the sand.

VOICE OVER: Or a curse.

Cecil stoops to pick up one of the cups.

VOICE OVER: I don't know if I met God in the desert, but I did find a group of—people. That's what they called themselves. "The People."

A large SPIDER crawls out of the upturned red cup across Cecil's hand. 

Cecil shakes it off of him, dropping the cup.

VOICE OVER: People who drank spiders.

Cecil is being watched from around the opposite side of the van. He is not alone. Cecil turns, but is too late. He sees nothing but the empty desert set against the edge of the white van's exterior.

Cecil wanders in a daze around the outside of the van. 

One hand outstretched, pressed against the edge of the van's body, he turns around the front passenger headlamp, looking around and over the hood. 

Unknown to him, FIVE BALD-HEADED PEOPLE in WHITE SMOCKS sneak around the other side, escaping Cecil's view, in hiding.

VOICE OVER: The People were wary of me at first.

The People sneak around the van, opposite Cecil, as he continues to walk around its other side. He sees the tracks in the sand. Despite there being five People, there's only one set of footprints. 

VOICE OVER: But over time, I came to earn their trust. I even became one of them. 

Cecil musters the final cache of his strength.

CECIL: Is anybody there? (no answer—then, wavering) I've pissed in my pants... 

Cecil, delirious, falls once again into the dirt. 

The bald heads of The People poke out from around the van, as one, in perfect—almost comical unison.

VOICE OVER: The People saw something in me.

CUT TO

It's night. Cecil sits in the sand in front of the white van at night, his head freshly shaven bald, wearing a white smock of his own. 

The People and Cecil rehearse, speaking together, their voices joined together as one:

THE PEOPLE		CECIL
The People live. The People work. The People sleep. The People eat...		The People live. The People work. The People sleep. The People speak...

The People and Cecil stop, recognizing the transgression. They said "eat", but Cecil said "speak". 

THE PEOPLE		CECIL
(correcting) Live, work, sleep, eat...		(realizing) Live, work, sleep, eat...

Harmony. Unison. They were of one mind. The People brighten visibly, looking at Cecil and nodding, together. 

As one, they lift their heads, holding their palms to the sky.

Cecil, realizing something is happening, mimics their gesture. 

VOICE OVER: They made me a person. A "People".

THE PEOPLE		CECIL
Ditto.		(haltingly) Ditto...

VOICE OVER: I became one of them.

The People remain with their heads lifted and palms upward, seemingly waiting for some cue so that they could all lower their heads and palms. 

VOICE OVER: The People did not believe in the individual. They believed each man, woman and child of the world shared one mind, separated by their bodies. When the People, meaning everyone in the world, learned to think as one, despite their separate bodies, they would be one with God. 

The people remain with their palms lifted toward the sky, each uncertain to be the first to make the move to stop.

VOICE OVER: It wasn't easy.

CUT TO

The next day, The People, with Cecil behind, walk single-file into the desert. 

Their bodies are so close that their chests press against the backs of the Person in front of them as they march in sync. 

VOICE OVER: Every day held its challenges as The People strove for perfection. For unification. Harmony.

Cecil accidentally steps on the heel of the Person in front of him. 

That Person can't help but buckle under the sudden pain.

PERSON: Ah! 

Grabbing his foot and hopping awkwardly in the sand, The People turn to see the disturbance. Discord. Disharmony.

In an attempt to maintain unity, they each try to mimic their injured fellow Person, grabbing their feet and hopping awkwardly in the sand.

At first, there is a kind of unison to their hopping, but slowly they diverge, shifting into different directions, jumping at a slightly different speed from the others.

One by one they fall in the sand, where they sit, motionless aside from the wind blowing through their smocks. 

THE PEOPLE: (together, defeated) Ditto.

CUT TO

Later, The People stand in a circle on the rooftop of their white van, with towels laid out under their bare feet to keep from burning.

One foot's heel is healing.

VOICE OVER: Like bees from a hive, ants in a colony or fish in a school—we trained ourselves to think, and move, together as one.

PERSON 1: (hesitant, but quick) One.

They all hesitate. Waiting, motionless, in their circle. Suddenly, another speaks up quickly.

PERSON 2: Two.

Another pause—a little briefer before person one, confident, speaks up.

PERSON 1: Three. 

Then, almost immediately—two speak up, at once.

PERSON 3		CECIL
Four.		Four!

Interruption. Disharmony. Disruption. Start over. Cecil and Person 3 exchange an apologetic glance. 

They lift their palms up skyward, though with an air of defeat.

PERSON 3		CECIL
Ditto.		Ditto.

Another pause. This time, a new individual starts the exercise.

PERSON 4: One.

VOICE OVER: The only time our voices spoke out, alone, was during an exercise that trained us to anticipate one another. To intuit the minds of our fellow People.

PERSON 2: Two.

VOICE OVER: Our goal? 

PERSON 1: Three. 

VOICE OVER: Was to count to one hundred, one voice at a time. And back down to one again.

PERSON 5: Four...

They all stand, pensive, waiting. Then—

PERSON 3		CECIL
Five.		Five!

Cecil and Person 3 groan, shoulders slumped in defeat. 

PERSON 3		CECIL
Ditto.		Ditto.

A long pause. Then, starting again:

PERSON 1		CECIL
One.		One?

This time, all the People groan together in unison.

Noticing the communal misery, Cecil smiles. 

CECIL: (smiling) Ditto. 

The other five People look at Cecil, each with a slightly different expression. 

Humor. 

Bemusement. 

Irritation. 

Defeat.

Gloom. 

VOICE OVER: Overcoming our individuality and coalescing into a collective was the goal. But to do so, we had to combat our own singular nature. An instinct learned by mankind over the centuries to regard ourselves as separate from others.

CUT TO

The six sit together, their backs against the side of the van, staring at a gorgeous pink desert sunset. 

The six faces stare, tired, but transfixed by the moment of beauty.

Sweat beads on their bald brows before falling down their faces in droplets. They look hot and tired.

Each person's face is a mirror of the next. Blank. Emotionless. Sweaty. There is misery, but a deep inner striving, and wonder at the beauty of a single sunset.

VOICE OVER: Over time, we found that our training was working. In little ways. There were glimpses where we would all share the same thought. Think with a singular mind. As multiple metal rods can be fused and melted into one, so we too were becoming one. And like any holy people who near blissful union with the almighty...

In perfect unison, all six People wipe the sweat off their brows with the right sleeves of their smocks, before dropping their hands to their sides again.

They are oblivious that they had done this gesture in perfect synchronization.

VOICE OVER: ...We were about to be tested.

CUT TO

The People lay in the van's interior—door open, moonlight spills in against their supine bodies. 

Only one of them, on the far right, is snoring. All the others, including Cecil who lies beside the snoring Person, are awake. 

Cecil turns to look at the snoring Person, but all are distracted when they hear a slight rustling outside, approaching the van. 

Cecil sits up. The others follow his lead. Cecil turns to the snoring compatriot and taps him abruptly, stirring him. 

The roused Person peers up groggily at the other five People's silhouettes, illuminated from the moonlight pouring through the open van door.

They all stare at the sound as it approaches from outside. Footsteps.

Suddenly, they are all blinded by the bright BEAM of a FLASHLIGHT pouring into the van. 

The People, and Cecil, throw their hands to cover their eyes and shriek in shock and surprise. 

The visitor, VERA, shrieks and drops the flashlight, staggering backward. 

Vera trips and falls on her backside in the sand.

VERA: Sorry! Sorry! I didn't know anyone was here! I was just looking for a place to sleep! 

Vera slowly looks up as Cecil and The People poke their heads out from the van door to look at her. 

Vera stands up, dusts herself off, and approaches again, picking up her flashlight and turning it off.

VOICE OVER: Chance. Luck. Coincidence. These words describe a sudden and unexplainable turn of fortune. Was it the hand of God? Whether by accident or a divine plan, what she said next changed the fate of The People forever. A change that, depending on how you look at it, was either a blessing... or a curse.

Vera and The People look at each other.

VERA		THE PEOPLE
Sorry 'bout that.		Sorry about that.

Harmony. Unison. They were of one mind. 

The People smile. They hold their palms up and are about to repeat their "Ditto" amen—but Vera beats them to it.

VERA: Jinx! 

The People stop. 

Jinx?

VERA: Can't talk 'til someone says your name. 

The People stare at Vera in shock. She has no idea what she's just done.

VERA: Some people say 'til you buy me a Coke,' but I always learned it as can't talk 'til someone says your name. 

The People are flabbergasted. 

VOICE OVER: Things weren't the same after that.

CUT TO

Desert, the next day, outside of the van—the five original People are scattered, lost. 

One sits in the sand, far away, lost in thought. 

Another wanders nearby, near the rear bumper of the van, kicking at the sand. 

Another sits on the hood, and another on the roof. 

Another leans against the open door of the van. 

Cecil is looking back at the other five, some distance away. 

All of them are still stricken mute by Vera's jinx. 

VERA: (calling out to them) Good luck!

Vera turns to Cecil. 

VERA: Comin'?

VOICE OVER: She brought me back to the world. Out of the desert. But what for? Was God, too, jinxed? I am sill waiting. Still listening.

Cecil turns and walks with Vera in the direction he was originally headed before he discovered The People. 

After some awkward silence, Vera speaks up.

VERA: You all take this jinx stuff super seriously. It's okay. You can talk now.

Cecil stares at his feet as he walks, lost in thought.

VERA: Hey! You can talk! You can owe me a Coke if you'd like that better. I don't know your name anyway.

She smiles at him. Cecil still absorbed in thought, troubled.

VERA: I could just start naming names. Eventually, I guess I'll land on yours. Will that count? 

She stops, looking at him.

VERA: You kinda look like—I don't know—a "Cecil" to me. Is that weird?

VOICE OVER: It was a miracle. I heard my name. She had said it. First try. What did it mean? 

CECIL: (hoarse) You got it.

VERA: I'm Vera. 

They continue. 

VOICE OVER: For me, the jinx was lifted. A jinx that was stronger than the ditto of perfection we had striven for as The People. It felt odd speaking my own thoughts, alone, for the first time. 

CECIL: (hoarse) Got any water? 

VERA: Oh! Yeah! Of course! God, I should've asked. You must be thirsty...

Vera opens a camelback pouch harnessed to her back. She holds a straw out to Cecil, who brings it to his lips and sucks with cracked lips.

She watches him drink.

VERA: Probably didn't have much to drink out here, huh? 

Cecil releases the plastic straw from his lips, gasping with relief. 

CECIL: No.

VERA: Did you have anything to drink at all? 

Cecil, drinking again, takes the tube out of his lips once more. 

CECIL: Spiders. 

VERA: What?!

CECIL: Yeah. We drank spiders. 

Vera looks at him. 

END.