Calypso’s Isle.

14th day of Germinal, year 300 -- Max: Let’s call it Apocalypse. The revelation that leads to Utopia. Jack: That’s bollocks. Apocalypse is mass destruction. M: Apocalypse is just the Greek for revelation, like Revelations, the last book of the Christian Bible. Which ends in heaven on Earth. J: Heaven on Earth! M: That’s like the Gyani. I’m tired. Speak tomorrow.

M: They call themselves the Gyani, the Sages, the Magii, the Sensi. Heaven on earth!

A low hum.

A face appears. Person: Jean doesn’t want to speak to you right now. I’m sorry.

The face fades. Blackness cut with the glow of a green LED. Sleep.

15th day of Germinal, year 300 -- Thudding of bass. Heavy bass. Shafts of luminous blue and green cut the darkness, but off to one side. The sounds are slightly muted.

Max: Heaven On Earth is what the Gyani Corporation claims. Living hell more like.

Max looks Jack in the eye.

M: Dancing?

The bass and light intensify as they move through the dark, towards and into a mass of people. One of them backs into the other. Minutes pass. Face to face. Thigh to groin, gyrating. Max pulls away. Goes to the bar. Jack follows. Two drinks. One each. Red liquid. Half pint glass, three quarters full. Clink. Both empty. They pass to a quieter part of the club. Music still pulsing loudly in the background. Shouting.

Jack: Jean came back six months ago but I’ve still not been able to touch. Max: Quarantine? J: No. Not sure. We talk in fragments and then … Gone. M: Frustrating. How are you coping? J: Not great. I think it’s Gyani. The Soma Pods. M: God. I’m sorry. I didn’t realise.

A new arrival. - K: Can I join you? J: Sure Kiran. How are you? K: I’m here at the club. Everything is great. Max, are you dancing?

Max and Kiran head off to the dance floor. Jack heads back to the throng too, directing attention to somebody just on the edge of the dancespace. They merge into the throng.

Max and Jack leave together. The bass and the pulsing lights stop.

Blackness cut with the glow of a green LED.

13th day of Germinal, year 300 -- Jean is sat on a bed looking at a woman in silk pyjamas. Cream. Sat up in a chair. Bare foot. A simple chain around her neck, with matching earrings. Jean looks at the bed in which he has just woken. He looks back at the woman. At the plain black cap she is wearing. A robot comes into the room. A hoverbot. Hoverbots are better at avoiding obstacles, although there are none here. Just an almost empty room. One double bed. One chair. One window, but with blinds down, an oak parquet floor, with no covering, and a single green LED in the corner, competing with the light bleeding in around the sides of the blind. Jean cries. That is not a strong enough description. It starts as a cry but escalates rapidly to a sob. A sob that comes from physical pain in the gut. In the chest. In the heart.

14th day of Germinal, year 300 -- Jean: Every day for months. Watching her with the Soma Pod on her head. I try talking to her but barely a reaction. The robots come in; check she eats. Her health is OK. The whole system just keeps going. Keeps her body living. Georges: God. I’m sorry Jean. I didn’t realise she’d been sucked in. Jean: She was the one that programmed this fucking system. One of the “Magi”. Georges: We were the ones that programmed the system. You, me - Max and ... Jean: I know.

Silence. A low hum from somewhere. Something.

Georges: Nobody dies anymore - no illness or starvation. No overwork.

Pause George: Every revolution has its terror. Jean: My sister. You’re talking about my sister.

The low hum continues. Georges: What have you tried? Jean: I’ve tried physical stimuli. I put the earrings and locket on her - the hearts that I bought her for her twenty-first birthday. I thought the shape and feel of them might bring her back. I tried hugs. I remembered the locket contained a lock of hair from her favourite dog, so I opened up the heart and took it out. I thought it might smell strong enough of the real world to pull her out. And so on. I’m tired. Georges: You tried going in? I know it’s dangerous Jean: Yes, I tried going in. But not for long each time. I don’t want the computer algorithms to learn my pleasure sensations. I set a timer algorithm to automatically withdraw me. It barely allowed us to start a conversation. But she did recognise me. She thinks I’m back from somewhere. Georges: I’ll need to think about it. All I can think right now is to rip the Soma Cap off her head. Or try to tap into it. Jean: That’s all I came to. Has anybody reliably succeeded? Georges: Not consistently. Robot! Two cafe Qahwa. You want a coffee?Jean: Thanks. Qahwa would be good. Georges: Let’s listen to some Fats Waller.

15th day of Germinal, year 300 -- Georges: I still only see two choices. Rip the Soma Cap off but, after that long, we know it can lead to confusion, depression. Aggression. Attempted murder. Suicide. Or hack into the Soma Pod to try and reduce the pleasure sensations to a level that Max leaves of her own volition. But she may not remember she’s in a simulation. It may just feel like life got shitty. Jean: Come on Georges. Nobody understands what the algorithms actually do. The wiring system of the cap evolves connections during usage. It’s unhackable. Georges: But Pitt has been working on an algorithm to learn all of that. We just need to overlay this extra cap onto Max’s and one of us has to enter the Soma reality system, with this cap on. I’ve been playing with it at home. I’m happy to do it. You know I’d like to unseat Leroy and his ministers. Jean: Let me think about it. Robot! Two cafe Qahwa. You want a coffee?

16th day of Germinal, year 300 -- Max was about to go to the club when …

Georges: Max. I haven’t seen you in ages. Max: Georges. What are you doing in my head. Georges: Sorry, I got your IP from Jean. He wanted to meet up later. Max: I’ve been trying to reach Jean, but never available. We’re going to a club night later. But if I can meet Jean, I’ll cancel. Georges: How much later is later? We could meet after the club? Max: OK. Later is soon. Will you come here? Three hours? Georges: OK. Bye.

Later.

Thudding of bass. Heavy bass. Shafts of luminous blue and green cut the darkness. Max is dancing alone. No Jack. No Kiran. No nobody. Jack arrives but seems distant. They have drinks but Max shows no joy in it. Max: Jack, I think I might be ill. I can’t taste the drinks. More than that. Things don’t seem quite right tonight. Jack: I promised to dance with Mixo over there. You’ll be fine. We’ll dance in a minute. You do look a bit pale. Maybe you should sit.

Max leaves and waits for Jean and Georges.

Georges: Hi Max. Max: Hi Georges. How are you? Georges: I’m well Max. Jean will arrive shortly. How are you Max? Max: Yeh. Great. Georges: The revolution we started. It’s been great, huh? Max: All those people stuck in virtual reality. I’m not convinced. Georges: But the revolution! The machines take care of everything. Those that want to, use machine power to explore reality. Possibility. To create new things. The rest of humanity plugs in and switches off in eternal pleasure. Their every neural response measured and optimally stimulated. Max: It’s a perversion of what we wanted. I’ve been discussing with Jack how to break the system. To defend the revolution for all, not the one percent. Georges: That’s it. That’s it. That’s what Jean and I have been talking about. You see the door there.

Georges points to a door on the wall of Max’s apartment that she’d never seen before.

Georges: Jean is waiting through there. Max: Why through there? Why not come here? Jean: I’m here Max. - Max: Where is here? There?

Max feels Georges take her hand and guide her to the door. She resists somewhat, although moves closer.

Jean: I’m here Max. Come.

Max steps towards the door. She gets angry. Shouts.

Max: You’re not Georges. I don’t ... Who are you?

She feels herself pulled to the door again. Stronger. She’s at the threshold. One of the house robots senses the scuffle and joins the melee. Max falls through the door. The robot decapitates Georges.

Jean (with joy): Max.

Jean: Max?