[INT. SCOTLAND, A DAISY TONNER SAFEHOUSE, POST-WATCHER’S CROWN]
[TAPE CLICKS ON]
[The background has a shimmery quality to it, a haunting set of soft organ-like tones, modulating slowly. It is not harmonious, but it is musical. We hear the occasional screech, though whether human or inanimate is unclear. Still, all of it seems normal, whatever that means in this new world. It is not commented upon. It is room tone.]
[The Archivist sighs deeply. He inhales sharply, and a small creak immediately follows.]
[Then he sighs again, and this time, it’s more of an exhale.]
ARCHIVIST
What? (Beat) What do you want?
[Something creaks.
ARCHIVIST (CONT’D)
The world is-
[Something in the background– wind? A monster?– howls, and the Archivist falters for a moment.]
ARCHIVIST (CONT’D)
It’s over. You’ve won.
What can you possibly still need to hear?
[His voice dips lower at the end of his sentence. Something creaks, longer this time. The Archivist gasps.]
MARTIN
(knocking) Knock, knock!
ARCHIVIST
Who’s there?
[When he speaks, his voice is filled entirely with affection.]
[We hear a couple of footsteps as Martin steps into the room.]
MARTIN
Just me.
ARCHIVIST
(ah, yes) Just me who.
[It’s phrased less of a question, and more of an inevitability.]
MARTIN
What?
ARCHIVIST
Never mind.
MARTIN
Uh- okay.
How are you feeling today?
[The Archivist inhales deeply.]
ARCHIVIST
Define.. “today.”
MARTIN
How are you feeling in general, then.
ARCHIVIST
Unchanged. I don’t know if it will ever change again.
MARTIN
(trying) I brought you some tea.
ARCHIVIST
(immediate) No, you didn’t.
MARTIN
Uh- what? Y,Yes, I did.
[A small nervous chuckle.]
ARCHIVIST
We ran out of tea the day before the change; you said the little shop in the village didn’t have any more.
[Brief pause. Something rattles.]
ARCHIVIST (CONT’D)
Ergo, (braced inhale) that isn’t tea.
[Martin begins to splutter and walk closer.]
MARTIN
W,What? No, of course it’s tea, I-
[The rattling flares up, louder; hisses, even. Martin breaks off, begins to yell, increased in volume. He drops the teacup or mug. It shatters.]
[We assume the hissing was the tea.]
[The thing hisses again, quieter, then fades out with a last rattle, leaving or disappearing.]
[Martin’s yelling subsides.]
MARTIN
Wha- What’s [bank]- Alright, I, I made that! If, if- (heavy breathing, steadying himself) I thought you were!-
ARCHIVIST
I’m sorry, Martin. (dry laugh, humorless) Things don’t work like that anymore.
MARTIN
(indignant) Like what?
ARCHIVIST
Like normal.
[A wailing sound- wind or monster?- from the background.]
ARCHIVIST (CONT’D)
This isn’t a world where you can trust-
MARTIN
(spluttering) Tea?
ARCHIVIST
Comfort.
[Martin exhales.]
MARTIN
Oh. (brief pause, quieter) Yeah. Yeah.
[He exhales, softly, and then there’s silence for a moment. Something… warps in the background.]
MARTIN
(humorless little exhale) Maybe I should, uh- pop down the village? See if they have any coffee instead?
ARCHIVIST
It’s gone, Martin, and the people are-
MARTIN
Yes, I know, Jon; I’m not ignorant, I’m just- I’m just not ready for complete despair yet.
ARCHIVIST
Like me.
MARTIN
I didn’t say that.
ARCHIVIST
You didn’t have to.
[Silence. The warping wind is back, in the background, with a few other not-quite-natural not-quite-unearthly sounds layered over it.]
MARTIN
You know I’m here for you.
[The Archivist inhales, long and deep, then exhales.]
ARCHIVIST
Yes.
[Clothes rustling. Possibly a hug, at the very least drawing closer to Martin.]
ARCHIVIST
Yes I do.
MARTIN
Alright. Alright.
ARCHIVIST
Thank you.
MARTIN
You still… (sigh) Feeling it, seeing everything?
ARCHIVIST
(nearly a whisper) Yes. I, I’m trying not to, but- all the fear, the anguish, i-it just keeps coming at me in waves, rolling over me, filling my head with such awful sights.
MARTIN
I’m sorry. That sounds.. (small sigh) That sounds horrible.
ARCHIVIST
I wish it was, Martin. I really wish it was.
[Something creaks.]
ARCHIVIST
But it feels… right.