More Than This - Script VO

ANSWERING MACHINE: You’ve reached the Cardiff Council Planning Department at the desk of Roger Pugh. I can’t take your call at the moment, so please leave your name and number, and I’ll get back to you as soon as possible.

Beep.

GWEN: (on the phone, sighs) Mr. Pugh. It’s Gwen Cooper. I’ve been told you’re the man I need to speak to about the application for our – base of operations. It’s, eh, what is – hang on, hang on. (fiddles with papers) Right. Yes. Application number four, five, three, two, four, seven. If you could get in touch to let me know how it’s progressing, that would be great. Thanks.

Beep.

GWEN: (voicemail) You’ve reached Gwen Cooper. I’m busy at the moment. If you have this number, you can probably guess why. Leave a message.

Beep.

ROGER: (answering machine) Ms. Cooper, Roger Pugh. Your application is under review, and you should expect a response within four months. While I have you, I noticed that you listed the name of your business as ‘Torchwood’. Could you be more specific? It sounds like a fuel company. If you intend to store inflammable material on the premises, I may need you to fill out X-four-two-B for health and safety department.

Beep.

GWEN: (on the phone) Gwen Cooper. Torchwood. Four months, I haven’t got four months. There must be a quicker way, surely. And what’s Torchwood? I’ll tell you, Mr. Pugh, Torchwood is the organisation that’s kept you in thousands – no, actually, millions – like you alive for over a century. (as noise grows in the background and she talks louder to compensate) So if you would like us to carry on doing so, I – would appreciate if you could just put a bit of a, a bit of a rush on – Rhys! No no no no, don’t let him fly off again, Rhys, (?), oh, fu – (phone cuts off)

Beep. A clock is ticking.

GWEN: (voicemail) You’ve reached Gwen Cooper. I’m busy at the moment. If you have this number, you can probably guess why. Leave a message.

ROGER: (in person) Ms. Cooper, Roger Pugh here. I’m afraid it will be four months at the very least. Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s longer, given the inexact nature of your business. It definitely sounds as though you’re gonna need to fill out another form for health and safety. You plan to store wild animals?

Muffled talking. A door is thrown open.

ROGER: Wh-wh-who are you? Hey!

GWEN: Right. Fine. Mr. Pugh, you wanna know what Torchwood does? Get your coat. You’re coming with me.

Torchwood theme.

Walking outside. Birds chirping.

ROGER: Hello, Jessica (sp?), my love. Sorry it’s been so long. Work’s being, well, you know. Always work, wasn’t it? Late home for tea, work. Forgot the shopping, work. You’re all gone, but nothing else has changed. Don’t you tihnk it should’ve changed? (sighs) Look at the state of your flowers. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t let it get like this. I brought daffodils! They’re nice. Bright. This place needs brightening up. (begins cleaning up junk) Tidying up, too. Does nobody look after you? Look at this, cheap cider, kids – haven’t they got better places to be? Who wants to get drunk in a graveyard? Big city like this, and they choose to sit here, surrounded by the – That’s better. Much better. Shall I tell you about my day? I think I need to. It’s been… There was this woman. Gwen Cooper. She showed me… Oh, Jessica. The things I saw.

Scene change. Roger is hurrying up to Gwen.

ROGER: Ms. Cooper, I can’t simply abandon my office to go gallivanting off with you!

GWEN: (unlocks her car) Get in.

ROGER: Are you not listening to me? There is due process and procedure to a planning application. Who d’you think you are?

GWEN: A woman who cuts through due process and procedure. (?) how to save the world?

ROGER: What?

GWEN: Get. In.

ROGER: Oh, for goodness’ sake. (muttering) Ridiculous, impossible woman. (normal volume) I can’t just go –

Gwen turns on the car.

ROGER: Fine! (gets in)

GWEN: (sweetly) Seatbelt.

ROGER: I know! (buckles in) I’ll be up front with you, Ms. Cooper. I’m extremely unhappy with how this application is being handled. Let me tell you what Cardiff Bay needs, it needs carpark and lots of it. The space you’re after has been earmarked. Plans have been drawn up – lovely plans for a multi-level, mixed-vehicle, temporary storage.

GWEN: Well, obviously, I’d hate to get in the way of that.

ROGER: (?) you like. People always do, right up until they can’t find a place to park. And now I’m being leaned on by agencies and departments I’ve never even heard of! Telling me I should scrap my lovely, fit-for-purpose carpark in favour of your – whatever it is. Well, frankly, no, Ms. Cooper. I will not be leaned on. I will not be strong-armed. My job is to provide for the city the best I can.

GWEN: Well, you and me both. So I’ll do you a deal. Give me some of your time, and then we’ll see how you feel at the end of it. Fair?

ROGER: I can spare you half an hour.

GWEN: I’m not promising anything. We’ll see how the day goes.

Roger chokes as Gwen suddenly speeds off.

Scene change; the graveyard.

ROGER: Most people just assume I’ll do whatever they say. Like Miller(sp?) in Housing. They beat you into submission with their self-importance. Leaving no room for discussion. Give her her due, Ms. Cooper, Gwen, wasn’t like that. Don’t get me wrong, she had no doubt I’d change my mind, even then. But she did at least admit that the decision was mine! So I went with her. (sighs) I wish I hadn’t.

Scene change. It sounds like Gwen is cruising along at about fighter jet test pilot speed.

ROGER: Do you have to go so fast?

GWEN: Well, you wanted to get this over and done with as soon as possible.

ROGER: I’d also quite like to survive the experience!

GWEN: Well, I never make promises I can’t keep.

ROGER: Uh, is that a threat?

GWEN: (amused) No, no, just being honest! Hopefully we won’t come up against anything too life-threatening, but you never know in this job.

ROGER: This job? Yeah, well, perhaps you’d like to tell me what job that is! What does Torchwood do?

GWEN: Oh, Torchwood. D’you know, you people have such short memories? Four years, and you’ve forgotten all about us. I’m sure, (?), it’s just, oh, it’s just easier to show you. (answers her earpiece) Yep. Loudoun Square. Fine.

ROGER: Are you still talking to me?

GWEN: The phone, shush a minute. Rhys, say the last bit again, please. Right. No, no, I won’t. I know it’s dangerous! Yes, green peppers, not red, got it. Yep, bye love, bye. (to Roger) Head office.

ROGER: What, they like green peppers, not red?

GWEN: I can multitask, all right?

The graveyard.

ROGER: Fine, I thought. Show me, then. Show me what Torchwood does. We arrive in Loudoun Square. What does she do? She says…

Gwen and Roger.

GWEN: (firmly but quieter than before) Stay in the car.

ROGER: What?

GWEN: I mean it. Stay in the car.

ROGER: What’s the point in dragging me here, promising to show me summat, and making me stay in the car?

GWEN: I know, I know, it’s just this one, this – this one’s a bit – dangerous.

ROGER: Eh?

GWEN: Well, I mean it – it might kill you.

ROGER: Wha?

GWEN: Stay in the car. (closes the door)

ROGER: (scoffs) Unbelievable.

The graveyard.

ROGER: I was like a naughty child left outside while mum does the shopping! Of course, I know now she had good reason. I found that out a few minutes later, when – well. Oh, god. The head. There was a head, and it –

Scene change. Roger in the car. Glass shatters.

ROGER: Oh, god. What’s on now?

More stuff shatters, louder this time.

ROGER: (screams)

POLICEMAN: (distantly) (?)

ROGER: Officer! Oh thank god. On the bonnet, a head! It just, sort of fell out of – a head! Somebody – No, some thing – Oh, what sort of – Oh, my god, look at its teeth!

SEARGEANT ANDY DAVIDSON: (serious) I’m afraid you can’t park your car here, sir.

ROGER: I beg your pardon?

ANDY: Your car, sir. Parking here is not allowed.

ROGER: But – but what about the head?

ANDY: Well, I don’t know nothing about that, sir.

ROGER: It’s there! Right there, congealing on that – Oh this is ridiculous.

ANDY: Mm. Could I see your driver’s license, sir?

ROGER: Driver’s license?

ANDY: (chuckles quietly) Only joking. Boring morning, I suppose. Is, uh, Gwen about, is she?

ROGER: Oh, (?).

ANDY: Yeah, happens to the best of us.

GWEN: (from a distance) Andy!

ANDY: Aw, here she is! Scourge of the spaceways(?)?

GWEN: Ah, sorry, a bit busy at the mo. Right then!

ROGER: (still panicked) Don’t touch it! It’s a head, a severed head!

Slimy sounds as Gwen removes the head and puts it in the boot.

GWEN: Ooh, in you pop!

ROGER: Ugh.

GWEN: Come on, then, Mr. Pugh, we’re off.

ROGER: A head!

GWEN: Don’t worry about it.

ROGER: It was on the bonnet. Now it’s in your boot?! A head!

ANDY: Oh, Halloween prank, probably.

GWEN: You know what kids are like around here. Please, Mr. Pugh, get in, we’ve gotta go. We can chat about it on the way.

ANDY: Catch you, uh, catch you later, Gwen?

GWEN: Yeah, will do, yeah. Mr. Pugh? Get in the car.

The graveyard.

ROGER: And I did. Well, it was either that, or run screaming through the estate, wasn’t it? Oh, Jessica, if only you’d seen it. It was like, all teeth, and these piggy little eyes! And skin like an old briefcase. It was… it was…

Gwen and Roger.

ROGER: Alien?

GWEN: Alien. Yes. That’s it. That’s what Torchwood does.

ROGER: What, cuts aliens’ heads off?

GWEN: No, nononono, that wasn’t planned. That was just an accident.

ROGER: You accidentally cut an alien’s head off?

GWEN: I-I didn’t cut it off. I slammed a window down on it. A few times. We were fighting, it was – what I had to hand.

ROGER: A window was what you had to hand?

GWEN: Things get confusing in a fight. You know what it’s like?

ROGER: No. No, I don’t. The only fight I’ve ever been in was with a man who scraped my car in Henrick’s(?) carpark. We shouted a lot. Well, mainly him. I ended up hiding in the car when he threatened to punch me. At no time was anyone decapitated!

GWEN: Oh, okay! Well, in a fight, right – hang on, why did you end up hiding when it was him who scraped your car?

ROGER: He wanted to punch me in the face!

GWEN: Right! Well in a fight, things become automatic. You just, I don’t know, you just move. The subconscious takes over. The B(?), the alien, was in a flat, on the fourth floor. Threatening a mum and two kids. I had to do something.

ROGER: So, you cut its head off, problem solved.

GWEN: Not straight away. I tried to reason with it, but the B(?) aren’t known for being reasonable during mating season.

ROGER: Mating season? They wanted to mate with her? But it’s not human.

GWEN: Well, they’re great believers in keeping the genetic pool diverse. Thing is, they’re rather aggressive when trying to attract a female. They eat her children first.

ROGER: Ugh. Why?

GWEN: Dominance, I suppose. Get rid of the cubs from another father. Or maybe that sort of thing turns the B(?) women on, I don’t know, who knows?

ROGER: God…

GWEN: I know. So I had to handle the situation quickly. I tried to restrain him, but he attacked, and – well, one thing led to another, as it often does.

ROGER: You do this sort of thing all the time?

GWEN: Not exactly that, no, but stuff like it.

ROGER: I mean, I know about aliens. You read stories in the papers sometimes, but it’s hardly a frequent thing, is it? If they’re knocking around housing estates on a daily basis, we’d know.

GWEN: Well, we – we try to avoid that. Massive panic wouldn’t help anyone.

ROGER: You cover it up.

GWEN: Sometimes.

ROGER: So why’re you telling me?

GWEN: Because we need you to sign off on our planning application. We need proper facilities again. Saving the world from the boot of my car is getting tedious.

ROGER: Again?

GWEN: Sorry?

ROGER: You said, you needed proper facilities again. What happened to the last lot?

GWEN: Give me a minute. I’ve gotta call this in.

The graveyard.

ROGER: An accident, Jessica. That’s what she called it. We know all about those, don’t we, love? She was so – No, I was gonna say she was blasé, but that’s not true. She was shaken, but she handled it so well. Took it in her stride. That’s the thing that scared me. How do you get to the point where you can just compartmentalise that sort of thing? She called her boss, or whoever that was she kept talking to. Told him she needed someone to get over and clean things up, like it was a spillage in a supermarket. And the policeman, he knew! But he ignored it, acted like it wasn’t there! Like, like if he didn’t look at it, it wouldn’t be real and he wouldn’t have to deal with it, think about it, discuss it. Head in the sand. To see the things that were going on in the city right under our noses. Not just aliens, but also –

Gwen and Roger, different scene. Gwen is driving crazily again.

ROGER: (shouting) This is a (?) area!

GWEN: (shouting) Don’t worry, they should be safe now we’re here.

ROGER: I was referring to the speed limit!

GWEN: Oh, don’t worry about that, I’m a fab driver! Now, where did I put –

ROGER, INTERRUPTING: Keep your eyes on the road, woman!

GWEN: Fine, fine! If we wanna make you more comfortable, then you can get the temporal anchor(?) from my bag.

ROGER: Temporal what?

GWEN: Up ahead, you see that? That (?) horses(?), right? It’s a temporal incursion, time leakage.

ROGER: Uh, I thought it was just a, a tourist thing.

GWEN: What? If it was a tourist thing, we wouldn’t be doing this! (interrupted by honking and someone yelling) (yelling back) Hey! Watch your mouth, (?)! Tourist thing.

ROGER: I don’t know, do I? One minute I’m coasting along, being told about dead aliens, and next I’m in the Grand bloody Prix!

GWEN: Well you’ve gotta nip temporal leakage in the bud. Things like that, hanging around in the wrong century could cause damage. (crashes into something) Oh, sorry!

ROGER: Could cause damage, she says!

GWEN: So yes, temporal anchor, bag on the backseat, round thingummyjig, looks like a toy spider, lots of flashing lights and a whopping big magnetic clamp on the rear.

ROGER: Fine, fine. (reaches back) This it?

GWEN: Ehm, Mr. Pugh, that does that look anything like a toy spider? Put it back, carefully. I don’t want you blowing the arse off my car.

ROGER: What? God. (keeps looking, groaning a little)

GWEN: Oh, what now?

ROGER: I get carsick! Oh, this is really, really horrible.

GWEN: The sooner you find the temporal anchor, the sooner we can get everything sorted and settled down to a bit of not driving really fast – Whoa! (more tyres squealing and car horns)

ROGER: (in unison) Whoa! How about this?

GWEN: That’s a b(?)!

ROGER: What do we do?

GWEN: (breathless) Oh yeah, right. Now, one of us needs to lean out and slap this thing on the side of that coach. Yeah? Yeah? Right, well I-I’ll be doing that, then. Well I’m fine, right, but you have to hold the wheel steady!

MAN(coachman?): Accursed demon, what hell is this?

GWEN: Cardiff, (?)! Hold that wheel, steady!

ROGER: I’m trying!

GWEN: Not (?), pull to the left! (as they zoom by something) Nononono, get back over!

ROGER: I’m doing it, I’m doing it!

GWEN: Closer, please, I’ve got (?) arms, come on!

MAN: Keep back!

Horses neighing. Gwen and Roger are screaming over the noise.

GWEN: Nearly! Nearly, nearly, come on!

ROGER: Oh my god(?)!

GWEN: Just come on, come on!

More tyres squealing.

Scene change.

WAITER: Two cappuccinos.

GWEN: Thanks. Here you go. Two sugars, get it down, you(?). (pause) (gently) That wasn’t so bad, was it?

ROGER: (shaken and a little breathless) I – I, I can’t – (the cup breaks) Oh! Oh god, oh I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.

GWEN: That’ll be uh, another cappuccino with two sugars, please. Sorry about the mess. He’s had a bit of a morning.

The graveyard.

ROGER: (bemused) Oh, Jessica, y-you should’ve seen me. I couldn’t stop shaking. It felt like the whole world was still moving. I just wanted to – I just wanted to crawl under a table and hide, and Gwen was – It was as if we’d done nothing more than go for a quiet drive in the country! First the head, and then the coach. It just vanished into thin air. ‘Dragged back to its right time’, Gwen said. (sighs quietly) It was too much. All of it. Just – I felt so –

Gwen and Roger. Outside somewhere.

ROGER: Pathetic.

GWEN: What?

ROGER: Oh, oh, nothing, uh – So. Aliens. Time-travelling coaches. What else do you do?

GWEN: You’re taking this well. Some people would be insisting they’d been drugged, saying it was all a set-up or something.

ROGER: Is it?

GWEN: No. But people often take more convincing.

ROGER: I’m not stupid. If I see something with my own two eyes, it’s real. Isn’t it? Besides, it’s not that difficult to get your head around. You hear about scientists experimenting with time travel, that lot in Switzerland. Aliens? Like I said, I read about them in the newspapers. I assume they were blowing things out of proportion, though. They usually do. Still, from what I’ve seen this morning, I’ll admit they may be more dangerous than I’d thought.

GWEN: Not all aliens are dangerous. Aliens are just people that don’t live here. You get good people and bad.

ROGER: But mostly bad. Otherwise you wouldn’t have a job.

GWEN: Well, that’s like saying the whole human race is crooked because we need a police force.

ROGER: Do you communicate with them?

GWEN: The police?

ROGER: Aliens. Are you in contact with other worlds?

GWEN: Not really. Why?

ROGER: Because I wanna know why these things are coming here. What’s drawing them, are you making us a target.

GWEN: (testy) We’re a safety net. You think the existence of Torchwood encourages alien threats? How does that work? Having a police force doesn’t encourage crime.

ROGER: No. I suppose not. So what is causing it, then? Why is this suddenly a problem?

GWEN: Well it’s not sudden. There have been extra-terrestrial threats to Earth for centuries. Queen Victoria founded Torchwood in 1879. We’re not some amateur club that just sprung up overnight; there were Torchwood Institutes all over the world.

ROGER: But not now.

GWEN: No, not – not now. (pause) Well, there’s just us.

ROGER: What happened?

GWEN: Lots of things happened. Bad things. I’d rather not go into it.

The graveyard.

ROGER: She’d rather not go into it. Doesn’t fill you with hope, does it? The history of Torchwood is broken, Jessica. That’s the truth of it. It’s filled with terrible things, things that even Gwen Cooper, who can chop alien heads off with windows, or dangle out of cars at high speed, can’t bear to face. I can understand that. Of course. You know that. To hell with the future. It’s the past that has the sharpest teeth.

Gwen and Roger.

ROGER: Okay, so, what about all that stuff in your bag, there? Where does that come from? What planet? It’s not our technology, is it?

GWEN: Some of it is. Some of it is appropriated from other races, stuff we find, confiscate.

ROGER: And this is the sort of thing you want to store in the middle of a highly-populated city?

GWEN: Store safely, yes. That’s why we need to do this right. That’s why we’re talking to you. We’re not suggesting piling a load of death lasers in a lock-up.

ROGER: Death lasers?

GWEN: I-I’m joking, sort of. Mostly joking. Look, we’re all about protecting people. We’re not gonna take stupid risks. We are doing this, whatever happens, but we, we want your help to do it right.

ROGER: Uh, that’s a lot of responsibility you’re putting on me.

GWEN: It’s a lot of responsibility on all of us.

The graveyard.

ROGER: There was more. So much more. You think you know the city you live in. I’ve been here all my life, but but the city I saw today… The things that were going on just around the corner…

Gwen and Roger are walking on dirt or gravel, the sounds of the city in the background, as Andy approaches by car.

ANDY: Hello again! Nice suits, very, uh, high-vis. Someone set a nuclear bomb off, have they? Must have been a quiet one.

GWEN: (a bit muffled) We’re busy at the moment, Andy! Catch you later, yeah?

ANDY: Yeah yeah, sure. (drives off)

ROGER: (a bit muffled) Do I have to wear all this?

GWEN: No. But you’ll be glad you did.

ROGER: Helps with the smell, I suppose. Oh! Ugh, what did they store here, rotten meat?

GWEN: M(?) parts. The smell’s new. There you go.

Sticking gross noises commence.

ROGER: What is it?

GWEN: Well we’re not sure. It’s been springing up a fair bit, lately. Best guess, some kind of spore.

ROGER: Spore?

GWEN: Yeah.

ROGER: Aw, the wall, the wall is covered! I mean, there’s loads of it!

GWEN: Yeah, don’t eat any of it.

ROGER: I’m hardly likely to do that. It does look tasty.

GWEN:(firmly) No, it doesn’t, focus. Some sort of pheromone trigger; people have been finding it and gobbling it up, and then –

ROGER: And then?

GWEN: Lots more spore. It’s not fatal, just really really uncomfortable.

ROGER: I really wanna eat some.

GWEN: Go sit in the car.

ROGER: No, no, I thought I’d, I – I can control myself. So we just spray it with this stuff, do we?

GWEN: Yeah.

ROGER: And that kills it?

GWEN: Not exactly. Just get pumping.

ROGER: Oh, yeah. Sorry.

GWEN: Ready?

ROGER: I think so.

GWEN: Then spray it as quick as you can.

They start spraying.

ROGER: Why do we have to be quick?

GWEN: You’ll see.

ROGER: It’s not gonna attack us or something, is it? You’d warn me if it was – (something wetly blows up and he groans loudly in disgust)

GWEN: (laughs) Oh, sorry. Sorry! Should have warned you! Couldn’t resist.

ROGER: It just – it just sort – sort of, blew up!

GWEN: Yeah, the spray triggers some sort of molecular shift. It’s still alive, but – but fancy eating it now?

ROGER: No! It’s horrible!

GWEN: See? The pheromone trigger’s inactive. After a while it’ll just dry up and disperse.

ROGER: Oh, I’m glad – I’m glad about the suit. Can I take it off now?

GWEN: No, not yet. We’re gonna need them again in a minute.

The graveyard.

ROGER: There were also things underneath the streets. Right beneath our feet as we’re walking around. Oblivious.

Scene change. Gwen and Roger are running, apparently through something wet.

ROGER: (breathing heavily, still in the hazmat suit) Is it still following us?

GWEN (also still in her suit) Yes, it’s still following us! The tranquiliser takes a while to find its brain.

ROGER: How long?

Something splashes.

GWEN: Not that long.

The graveyard.

ROGER: And sometimes, these things were right there in plain sight. Hiding in the open.

Scene change. An art gallery. People are talking quietly.

GWEN: Sorry folks, health and safety, we won’t be long.

ROGER: (as they walk) I’ve never been here before. Not really a fan of modern art. Of splashes and posing(?).

GWEN: I like some of it. This one, not so much.

ROGER: Mm. It’s just a lot of purple, and glitter, isn’t it?

GWEN: Mm.

ROGER: What’s it called? ‘Fyboss(sp?)’? What’s that even mean?

GWEN: It means it’s from the planet Fyboss.

ROGER: Hm.

GWEN: (louder) Alright pal, game’s up. Get in the bucket.

ROGER: You’re telling me the paint is an alien?

GWEN: Yep. Feeds off the emotions of the people looking directly at it. In this case, probably confusion and that sort of simmering, ‘how much did they get to paint that rubbish?’ kind of anger, you know? (angry) Get in the bucket! No – (as it gets in, growling in a watery way) Right. (closes the lid)

ROGER: (suspiciously) That thing over there. Funny green sculpture. All arms and – reproductive organs. I don’t suppose that might be alien –

GWEN, INTERRUPTING: (walking away) Nope. That’s just shit.

Scene change. Outside the gallery, walking.

ROGER: So what do you do with it now? You can’t just leave it in the bucket forever.

GWEN: Well, obviously, if it had a head, I’d be cutting it off with a window. (as she turns on the car and opens the door) As it doesn’t, we’ll find out how it came here, and (talking sternly to the alien) suggest in no uncertain terms that it uses the same method to go away again. (shuts the door)

ROGER: And if it won’t?

ANDY: (rides up) Hey, Gwen. We must stop meeting like this.

GWEN: We’re busy at the moment, Andy. I’ll catch you later, yeah?

ANDY: (small voice) Okay. (off he goes)

GWEN: (gets in the driver’s seat) Fancy some lunch?

Fin de la partie 1 - To be continued...