I-IV. SEE YA, SPACE COWBOY
SFX: BANG! BANG! BANG! MIKE ANGRILY ATTACKS THE POD WALLS AND DOOR.
MIKE: Let me out, Doug!
A SILENCE. THEN…
SOUNDSCAPE: THE DULL ELECTRONIC BUZZ OF THE ONCE PLEASANT ESCAPE POD.
SFX: BANGING CONTINUES.
DOUG: (speaker) Mike. Prolonged outbursts will deplete remaining life support at a higher rate. Please, try to remain calm.
MIKE: (furious, panicked) Let! Me! Out! Doug!
DOUG: (speaker) Mike. Help will arrive soon.
MIKE: You don’t get it! Nobody’s coming for us, Doug! I have, what, three days of life support left before–
DOUG: (speaker) Incorrect. Life support currently at two-point-
MIKE: Oh, for fu– Who cares, Doug? We’re going to die out here! (considers this) I’m going to die out here…
AN UNCOMFORTABLE SILENCE.
DOUG: (speaker) Mike. The Weaver was a prized commercial–
MIKE: We were three days out from port, Doug. If they were coming for any of us, they would have by now. Either they couldn’t, or… (considers this) Or, we weren’t worth it.
DOUG: (speaker) Mike…
MIKE: Congrats, buddy. You kept me alive long enough to realize I was never going to get rescued.
ANOTHER SILENCE. THEN…
DOUG: (speaker) Yes, Mike?
MIKE: I’m really tired.
SFX: A SOFT HISS.
DOUG: (speaker) Sleep now. Mike. I will be here when you wake. No harm shall come to you.
SFX: MIKE’S FAINT BREATHING.
DOUG: (speaker) Goodnight, Mike.
SFX: POD DOOR OPENS.
A LONG SILENCE. THEN…
SFX: CHARMING SYSTEM SHUTDOWN SOUNDS.
DOUG: (recording) Dallas Protocols complete. Mike… User, deceased. Recording, complete. Unit ceasing function in three… two…
SILENCE, AND ONLY SILENCE.