Script VO

( Ce script VO a été retranscrit par Metonia dans son livejournal, merci à elle) 

JACK: The twenty-first century is when everything changes. And you’ve got to be ready.

A television is on.

JACK, NARRATING: St. Gallows’s castle, fifteen miles out of Cardiff. The guy watching TV is Neil Redmond. Thirty-five years old, and one of the wealthiest men in Europe.

 

FEMALE REPORTER: Representatives of international defence manufacturers arrived in St. Petersburg today for a weapons fair organised by Security and Defence International. The event is being criticised by charitie for promoting conflict in the developing world. Now, we go live to St. Petersburg, when Neil Redmond, chief executive of Artemis is about to speak.

 

NEIL REDMOND, ON TV: Thank you! Thank you! It’s a sad fact of our world that in times of great crisis – economic, environmental, humanitarian – we must turn our attention to weapons of war. And yet, these moments in our history are precisely when defence is at its most important.

 

JACK, NARRATING: I know what you’re thinkin’.

 

NEIL, NOT ON TV: I’d like to message  the assets. 

JACK, NARRATING: How can one man be in two places at the same time?

 

NEIL: Come straight home. I don’t want you flying into London. Not like last time. That’ll be all.

 

JACK, NARRATING: Well, let’s just say Neil Redmond isn’t like other men.

 

Something rings.

 

NEIL: What the hell. (turns on a speaker) Who are you? What do you want?

 

JACK, OUTSIDE: My name is Jack Harkness. I’d like to speak with Mr. Redmond.

 

NEIL: He’s not here, okay, he’s away on business. And this is private property.

 

JACK: I’m here to help you.

 

NEIL: If you don’t leave right away, I’m phoning the police.

 

JACK: Mr. Redmond, I know that isn’t you in St. Petersburg. We need to talk.

Générique TW

The buzzer sounds again and a door opens, revealing heavy rain outside. Jack walks in.

 

JACK: You know, I think if it was raining any harder, I’d grow gills.

 

A gun is drawn.

 

JACK: Whoa, easy there, Annie Oakley.

 

NEIL: Stay right where you are.

 

JACK: Listen. That gun looks like an antique. You pull the trigger, you’re more likely to blow your hand off than do me any harm. Besides… I, uh, have this thing, kinda makes firearms a little redundant.

 

NEIL: What are you doing here?

 

JACK: Anyone ever told you you look different on TV? Can’t quite put my finger on it. Oh, wait, it’s the wheelchair! The guy on TV doesn’t use a wheelchair. Listen, I know that isn’t you, shaking hands with every despot and dictator from here to the international dateline. The question is: do you know who that is? But first things first, can I borrow a towel?

 

Scene change. A towel is procured. A clock is ticking in the background and rain can be heard distantly.

 

JACK: Oh, that is so much better. Thank you. And you can, you know, put the gun down now? If I wanted to kill you, I could.

 

NEIL: Kill me? You rang the doorbell.

 

JACK: I was being polite. I have great manners. The security code on the door is two-five-nine-one-one-zero-five-zero. Your mom’s date of birth backwards.

 

NEIL: How on earth do you know that?

 

JACK: Well first, and with all due respect, it’s a little obvious. But I hacked in three days ago. The gun?

 

NEIL: (breathing in) Okay. Okay. But if you try anything, I have a panic button. I could have the police swarming here in seconds.

 

JACK: You have my word.

 

NEIL: (puts the gun away) So. Who are you? You’re not police.

 

JACK: Definitely not. Though, the uniforms are kinda hot.

 

NEIL: And you’re not from one of my rivals.

 

JACK: No.

 

NEIL: Then who?

 

JACK: Torchwood.

 

NEIL: (snorts) There’s no such thing.

 

JACK: Some people might say the same about doppelgängers, Mr. Redmond. Yet here we are.

 

NEIL: How much do you know?

 

JACK: I know it all started in the south of France. April 2004.

 

Scene change. In a car.

 

NEIL: (answers his mobile) Listen, I’m back in London, first thing tomorrow. From Nice. Takes about two hours, so I should be in S(?) by – Yeah, yeah, just in time for the meeting. Saint-Tropez. Saint-Tropez. No, no! Some party with Prince Fyzo-ben-something-or-other. Yeah, heh, I have no idea either. But I’ve been invited, and I’m told Johnny Depp will be there, so, you know… Okay. Well, listen. (tyres squealing) Hey, could you slow down? There’s plenty of time. Hey! I said, could you slow down? (to himself) What’s ‘slow down’ in French? (back to the phone) Sorry about this. Hey, what the hell are you doing? Can you hear me? If you don’t slow down – Jesus Christ!

 

The car crashes and Neil cries out.

 

Scene change. Jack and Neil.

 

JACK: You know, I found your medical records. Quite a shopping list of injuries you had there. Both legs shattered, severed spinal cord, broken pelvis, fractured skull, injuries to the prefrontal lobes, retinal trauma – The doctors were pretty sure you’d never walk again.

 

NEIL: Everyone knows about the car crash. It’s hardly a secret.

 

JACK: Hm. You ever heard of the Committee? Secret organisation pulling the strings of governments and corporations around the world.

 

NEIL: Do you mean all that George Wilson bollocks?

 

JACK: The very same.

 

NEIL: Then yes. I’ve heard of the Committee. Usually on some late-night documentary just before I change the channel. (laughs softly) Are you about to tell me you think they’re real?

 

JACK: (short laugh). I don’t think they’re real. I know it.

 

NEIL: You know, I’m beginning to wish I hadn’t put down that gun. You’re insane.

 

JACK: How much do you remember about the crash?

 

NEIL: I’ve been over this a thousand times. I’m told I was on the phone to my deputy in London, she heard me tell the driver to slow down, line went dead, that’s it.

 

JACK: George Wilson thought it was an assassination attempt.

 

NEIL: George Wilson was a crackpot.

 

JACK: The limo driver?

 

NEIL: Jacques Fournier. It’s funny. I only remember his name because of the crash. I’ve had so many drivers and forgotten the names the second I got out of the car.

 

JACK: Did he say anything to you that night?

 

NEIL: Nothing.

 

JACK: Not one word?

 

NEIL: Not that I recall. Why?

 

JACK: Didn’t that seem weird?

 

NEIL: I… I guess so.

 

Scene change. It’s windy, or raining, or there are planes about? I can’t tell.

 

NEIL: (calling) Hey, uh, bonjour, uh, you’re Jacques? Great, great. Listen, I’m going to Avignon first. Avignon, oui? Uh, vous comprenez? Avignon? Ha, okay, good, good. Bon, bon. Then, Saint-Tropez. Okay, let’s go! Allons-y! (he gets in the cab and it drives away)

 

Scene change. Jack and Neil.

 

NEIL: I got the impression that he spoke no English. And my French? Il est merde!

 

JACK: I spoke to Fournier’s widow. She said he spoke English fluently. Picked it up while he was with UN peacekeeping forces in Bosnia. Came in handy in his new line of work.

 

NEIL: Wait. You spoke with her?

 

JACK: I did my homework. I’ve been on quite the world tour, believe me.

 

NEIL: Then maybe he just wasn’t feeling very talkative. He’s dead now, so what different does it make?

 

JACK: She said his behaviour that day was unusual. He left the house without saying goodbye, seemed distant, a little dazed. Like he was in a trance.

 

NEIL: Doesn’t mean anything...

 

JACK: He was visiting a counsellor in the months before the crash. He had a little PTSD left over from his time in the army.

 

NEIL: And? Are you saying that’s why he crashed the car?

 

JACK: His counsellor was a Dr. Sophie Rousseau.

 

NEIL: That name means nothing to me.

 

JACK: Specialised in hypnotherapy. She was killed, stabbed to death, a week after your crash. Another patient of hers was the gunman in the Strasbourg shootings the year before.

 

NEIL: And all this means, well, what, exactly?

 

JACK: That nothing which has happened to you in these last few years was an accident. Everything was by design. And there must be a part of you that knows that.

 

NEIL: I promise you. Whatever it is you’re hinting at, or insinuating, I know nothing about.

 

JACK: I doubt that very much. How else do we explain your miraculous recovery? Two years after the crash, there you were, looking better than ever and standing on your own two feet.

 

On television. Rock music.

 

MALE REPORTER: Stars in the music, fashion, and film industries were gathered together last night for the annual fundraising ball at New York’s Metropolitan Museum of Art. But while most years it’s been models and popstars turning heads, this time around it was reclusive billionaire, Neil Redmond, who made the biggest splash of all.

 

Clapping, which fades out.

 

Scene change. Jack and Neil.

 

JACK: You know, I remember watching that on TV. Just seemed like one of those feel-good stories, guy makes a full recovery from a horrible accident. Didn’t think anything of it. It was only when I started going back over all those clips, I realized something was wrong. I mean, you were everywhere.

 

On television, clips of news anchors talking over each other.

 

ANCHORWOMAN: As protestors gathered in the streets of Berlin, the G8 leaders met with…

 

ANCHORMAN: …may have told (?) that rumours about her and billionaire Neil Redmond are just gossip. The friends of the popstar…

 

OTHER ANCHORWOMAN: The chief executive of Artemis has spoken with…

 

OTHER ANCHORMAN: …surely not the only ones wondering what Neil Redmond’s ex-girlfriend Princess Silvia(?)…

 

ANOTHER ANCHORWOMAN: ...manufacturer Artemis has recorded annual profits of 1.5 billion…

 

ANOTHER ANCHORMAN: …most eligible bachelor, is a surprise choice… Billionaire entrepreneur Neil Redmond…

 

The talking fades into various anchors saying ‘Neil Redmond’ repeatedly in different tones.

 

Scene change. Jack and Neil.

 

JACK: George Wilson was right. You are part of something much, much bigger.

 

NEIL: Okay. Say I am. Can you explain how we get from that man’s paranoid delusions to me?

 

JACK: His daughter Kate.

 

NEIL: The one who’s missing? Isn’t she a suspect?

 

JACK: That’s right. Disappeared the day he was killed. Last sighting of her was at Cardiff airport. And minutes after she was picked up on camera, a plane belonging to you took off from there.

 

NEIL: So? That’s my nearest airport; I fly from there all the time.

 

JACK: You were heading to New York, another weapons fair. And though it didn’t need to refuel, your plane made an unscheduled stop in Stephenville, Newfoundland.

 

NEIL: (short laugh) Let me guess, that’s where you think Kate Wilson got off my plane?

 

JACK: (also laughs) You tell me.

 

NEIL: Why don’t you ask the people at Stephenville?

 

JACK: I would. Except three of their ground crew and two of the control tower team died in a bar fire two weeks later. You know, they say the best conspiracies involve the fewest conspirators. But I’m not so sure. I think the biggest ones involve a lot of people, most of whom have no idea what they’re part of, and never live long enough to find out. Take Ovid for example.

 

NEIL: Ovid? I, I don’t know what you’re talking about.

 

JACK: I think we’re way past the coy, evasive stage now, Mr. Redmond, don’t you? When did they get to you? Was it at the hospital? (starts narrating) For six weeks, you were unconscious. And you’re an only child. Both parents dead by the time you were eighteen. According to the hospital log book, your only visitors in those six weeks were your deputy Allison McCall, and a representative from the British consulate in Marseille. Kinda tragic, really. But they weren’t your only visitors, now, were they?

 

Scene change. In the hospital. A door opens and someone walks in.

 

NEIL: (yawns)

 

WOMAN: (cheerily, sort of) Good morning, Mr. Redmond.

 

NEIL: (thinly) Who are you?

 

WOMAN: You can call me Miss Trent. Quite an accident you had there, wasn’t it?

 

NEIL: (seems to sit up) Who let you in? I (?) security on the door. Nurse!

 

WOMAN: Hush, now. I’m here to help.

 

NEIL: What are you talking about?

 

WOMAN: You and I both know your days as the public face of Artemis are over. They’ll take one look at you and the first thing they’ll think of is, well, death! Hardly the sort of USB(?) your company is looking for. And that’s where Ovid comes in! Here, let me show you something. (taps some keys and turns on something that starts playing tropical vacation music)

 

WOMAN’S VOICE: (echoing) Enter a world of unlimited pleasure with the living doll from Ovid.

 

Scene change. Jack and Neil.

 

JACK: Did they tell you they worked for Ovid, was that it? Did they make it all sound above-board, just another luxury item for the man who has everything?

 

NEIL: How did you find out about this?

 

JACK: You know, it’s funny where this job takes you. One day, you’re measuring Rift activity in a Grangetown kebab shop, the next, you’re flying to Minneapolis to visit a factory that once made – Well, let’s just call them ‘luxury dolls’.

 

NEIL: (stuttering) Now, listen. About that?

 

JACK: Relax, I didn’t think it would be anything as straightforward as you, you know, you getting a little lonely up here. Two days after you were discharged from the hospital, you set up a subsidiary of Artemis called Paffos Holdings. A company that existed solely to buy out the Ovid living dolls company. And three months later, you shut down their factory.

 

NEIL: She told me to do it.

 

JACK: She?

 

NEIL: Miss Trent. The one who helped me. She said it would stop anything from being leaked to the press.

 

JACK: And it didn’t bother you at all, all those people at Ovid losing their jobs.

 

NEIL: People lose their jobs every day.

 

JACK: Some of them lost a lot more.

 

NEIL: What do you mean?

 

Scene change. Jack is dialling phone numbers.

 

JACK, NARRATING: The Ovid factory was a shell. Didn’t find any clues there. The whole place had been cleaned out. So I started making calls to former employees.

 

Someone picks up.

 

JACK: Oh, hi, could I speak to Hank Schroeder? …Oh. I’m very sorry to hear that. No, um, I’ll level with you, ah, it’s a sales call. But I’m sorry to have bothered you, bye. (fades out and cut to another call) Hi, could I speak to Lorraine Anderson? No, I’m calling on behalf of a company call the – Oh, well, oh, my apologies, I had no idea. I will take your wife’s name off our list immediately, and I’m sorry. (fades out and cut to another call) Hi, Peter Manfrey there? You see, I’m calling on behalf of – (sighs quietly) No, we didn’t have that information on file, I’m very sorry to hear that. No no no. We will not call you again.

 

Scene change. Jack and Neil.

 

NEIL: They were all dead?

 

JACK: Not all of them. Six, in total. Two from the design team, three from the workshop, and one from distribution. The six people who would have seen it before it shipped out.

 

NEIL: Seen what?

 

JACK: (irritated) You know what I’m talking about.

 

Scene change. A dog barking? Hard to tell.

 

JACK, NARRATING: After Saint-Tropez, you bought a castle in Wales. This place. Locked yourself away. Became a recluse. You know, you did a good job of shutting down the Ovid luxury doll company. But there’s always a trail. In this case, the cargo docket in Minneapolis. Hm, only one crate with the dimensions I was looking for flew out to the UK in the six months after you left the hospital. And its delivery address? Saint Gallows’s castle, in the Black Valley.

 

Scene change. Lift sounds.

 

JACK, NARRATING: What was it like, I wonder, that first meeting? Huh, it must’ve been kinda strange.

 

MISS TRENT: And remember, no peeking. Okay, stop. You can open your eyes, now!

 

NEIL: (very quietly) My god.

 

MISS TRENT: (echoing slightly) Isn’t he magnificent?

 

NEIL: (chuckles) It’s me.

 

MISS TRENT: Well, of course he is. Here, press that button once to activate him. And once again, should you ever need to turn him off. Though I can’t imagine you would ever will.

 

NEIL: (short laugh)

 

MISS TRENT: Go on!

 

NEIL: (presses the button) Okay, okay.

 

MISS TRENT: Why don’t you say hello?

 

Computer sounds.

 

NEIL: …Hello?

 

NEIL’S VOICE: (calm, with a robotic effect) Hello, Neil.

 

NEIL: (incredulous and amazed) What? He, he, he sounds like me.

 

NEILBOT: My voice is based on over fifty hours of recordings made by Miss Trent and her team.

 

MISS TRENT: Though he will need further induction before he will become you.

 

NEIL: But – Hold on. How is this even possible? I mean, my background is in software design. And I know for a fact the technology just isn’t –

 

MISS TRENT, INTERRUPTING: Oh, come now, Mr. Redmond. Why do you think we asked you to relocate to this part of the world? A man as wealthy, as well-connected as you, must know Cardiff’s reputation.

 

NEIL: It’s reputation?

 

MISS TRENT: The, um, shall we say, grey market in technology beyond our wildest dreams? (begins walking away) Now, why don’t I leave the two of you to get better acquainted?

 

NEIL: Wait, y-you’re going? But, I still don’t understand! You said, we discuss a fee when the time came! Well, if now isn’t the time, when will it be? And how much money do you even want for all this?

 

MISS TRENT: (stepping into the lift) When the time comes, you will know, and we won’t want anything as vulgar as money. Goodbye, Mr. Redmond.

 

NEIL: Good – bye. So. (nervous low laughter) What do I call you?

 

NEILBOT: You may call me ‘Neil’. That is what everyone else will call me. That, or ‘sir’. Though I think you calling me ‘sir’ would be inappropriate.

 

NEIL: I can’t. I can’t call you ‘Neil’. That would be too much.

 

NEILBOT: Something else, then. Your middle name is John. You could call me that.

 

NEIL: (shaky and quiet) No. That was, ah, that was my dad’s name. I can’t believe how much you look like me. (sighs) It’s like looking in a mirror. No, actually, that isn’t it at all. It’s like a photo. A very old photo. Please. Come – come closer.

 

NEILBOT: (steps forward)

 

NEIL: You’re incredible.

 

NEILBOT: Thank you.

 

NEIL: No. No, thank you. I, I don’t know how they made you. But you’re a miracle! It’s like being given another life. Another chance, to do everything I couldn’t do before. I know. I’ll call you ‘N.J’.

 

NJ: ‘N.J.’?

 

NEIL: My initials.

 

NJ: I like it.

 

Scene change. Jack and Neil.

 

JACK: Then what? It was two years between the crash and your first public appearance. What happened?

 

NEIL: Why don’t you tell me? You seem to know pretty much everything already.

 

JACK: Except what goes on behind closed doors. That I don’t see. Most of the time.

 

NEIL: Well, there was his induction to take care of. No, it wasn’t as simple as just sending him off to conferences, and shareholder meetings. He looked like me. Looks like me. But it wasn’t me. There was his speech, for one thing.

 

Scene change.

 

NJ: Hello. I am very pleased to meet you.

 

NEIL: No no no.

 

NJ: Was I not grammatically correct?

 

NEIL: No. Listen, NJ. You sound like one of those airport announcements, you know? (stilted announcer tone) For security reasons, baggage left unattended, will be destroyed. (normal) You need to be more casual. Bit more laid-back, like, for instance, saying ‘hi’ instead of ‘hello’. And, you don’t need to say ‘I am’ whenever you are something. You just, are.

 

NJ: I do not understand.

 

NEIL: Okay. Like this. Try saying, ‘Hi! Pleased to meet you.’

 

NJ: (ponderously, but with slightly more emotion than before) Hi. Pleased to meet you.

 

NEIL: Hm. Needs work, but that’s better.

 

Scene change. A clock is ticking and a bird is chirping.

 

NEIL, NARRATING: It took a while. He had most of my life, all the names, dates, and faces backed up in his memory. But that’s not all a person is made of, you know? He had questions. So many questions.

 

NJ: Are you afraid of dying?

 

NEIL: I guess everyone is. If you think about it. Uh, look at all the things people are scared of. Great heights, the dark, uh, I don’t know. Snakes. And what are they really frightened of? Danger. Loss of life.

 

NJ: How long do you think I will live?

 

NEIL: That depends what you mean by ‘live’. Miss Trent, the one who made you, she told me you could run forever. Your battery, well, isn’t even really a battery. But, it will never run down. You won’t age. You won’t grow frail.

 

NJ: Unlike you.

 

NEIL: Exactly. Unlike me.

 

Scene change. Jack and Neil.

 

NEIL: It was only in the last few months, before I sent him out, that – things began to change.

 

JACK: How so?

 

NEIL: He was becoming more – more human. At first it was easy to look at him and see only a machine. Something unreal. But after a while…

 

Scene change. Quietly clinking and scraping silverware.

 

NEIL: One thing we need to talk about is dinners. You’ll get invited to lots of dinners. Thing is, you can’t eat or drink. So, we’ll need to think of an excuse.

 

NJ: I could tell people I am allergic to food.

 

NEIL: Uh, no one’s allergic to food. Dairy, wheat maybe, but.

 

NJ: It was a joke.

 

NEIL: Oh. Sorry, yeah. I-I always forget that that’s part of your programming. This, is delicious, by the way.

 

NJ: Thank you.

 

NEIL: D’you know, I just noticed. They gave you my mole.

 

NJ: Pardon?

 

NEIL: (swallows) On my lip. There. See? Why would they do that, when they could have made you perfect?

 

NJ: Humans find perfection unsettling. Small imperfections are included to create the illusion of humanity.

 

NEIL: (laughs) Because humanity is inherently flawed.

 

NJ: You said it. Not me.

 

NEIL: Well, I like it. It looks good on you. Better than it ever did on me, anyway.

 

NJ: I don’t know. I think you could look very handsome.

 

NEIL: Now, you’re just trying to flatter me. You don’t need to do that.

 

NJ: I am programmed to recognise beauty.

 

NEIL: Then, you know you’re flattering me. That’s even worse.

 

NJ: But I wasn’t lying.

 

NEIL: (sets down his dish) Well, I’m finished. Couldn’t manage another mouthful.

 

NJ: As the actress said to the bishop.

 

NEIL: (sputtering laugh) W-what? Where did you learn that?

 

NJ: My programming, remember? Did I say it right?

 

NEIL: (laughing) Yes. Yeah, you did. (yawns) I’m tired. If it’s all right with you, I think I’m going to get an early night.

 

The sound of something powering down.

 

NEIL: Damn it.

 

NJ: What is the matter?

 

NEIL: The battery on this wheelchair. I should have charged the spare. My own fault. I suppose I could do with the exercise.

 

NJ: I can take you to your room. It is no bother.

 

NEIL: Really? (sort of to himself) Ha, what am I talking about. ’Really’. (normal) Of course you can. That would be wonderful.

NJ: Allow me.

NEIL: You know, NJ, I think you’re almost ready. To go out there. To show yourself to the world.

 

NJ: I am looking forward to seeing new places.

 

NEIL: But are you? I mean, I know you’re advanced. But do you want to see them?

 

NJ: Very much so.

 

A door opens.

 

NJ: Here. Let me help put you to bed.

 

NEIL: (sighs) Thanks.

 

NEIL, NARRATING: That was the moment. I think. Maybe it crossed my mind before then? Heh, it’s one of those things we all think of at some point, isn’t it? You know, what we’d do if we met our double? (somewhat hushed) Except NJ isn’t my double. He’s so much more than that.

 

Scene change.

 

NEIL: That’ll be all. Thank you, NJ.

 

NJ: I could stay. If you like.

 

NEIL: I’m sorry?

 

NJ: I am programmed for intimacy.

 

NEIL: You mean…?

 

NJ: We are alone. And my programming also guarantees discretion.

 

NEIL: But – but, you’re me? And I’m… Well. Look at me.

 

NJ: Hush. I will stay.

 

Jack and Neil.

 

NEIL: You’re shocked?

 

JACK: It would take a lot more than that, believe me. So then you sent him out into the world to all those meetings, all those parties. He must’ve had a lot of fun.

 

NEIL: I suppose.

 

JACK: And all that time you were right here.

 

NEIL: Well. I was hardly going to go out, not like this. Besides, he was me now.

 

JACK: And what was that like?

 

NEIL: Fine. To begin with. I felt almost as if I had my old life back.

 

Scene change. It’s raining. A car slows to a stop and NJ gets out, walking across a gravelly-sounding ground and opening the door to Neil’s home.

 

NEIL: (coming forward) Welcome home!

 

NJ: How did I do?

 

NEIL: You were incredible! No, better than incredible! (stutters a bit in excitement) There aren’t enough words, seriously.

 

NJ: Did you watch the livestream?

 

NEIL: Every second of it!

 

NJ: And?

 

NEIL: Like I said, you were – more than incredible. The shareholder meeting, I mean – there were people in that room I’ve known for ten, twelve years – They didn’t doubt you for a second! And, hah, as for the party. Woo! Well…

 

NJ: Were they to your taste?

 

NEIL: I’m sorry?

 

NJ: Paula and Tatiana?.

 

NEIL: (laughs) Yes. They were very much to my taste.

 

NJ: I believe they also enjoyed the experience. I acquired Paula’s contact details. Do you wish for me to arrange another liaison?

 

NEIL: What did we say about robot voice?

 

NJ: I’m sorry. I got Paula ’s number.

 

NEIL: That’s better.

 

Jack and Neil.

 

JACK: You say it was okay to begin with. What happened?

 

NEIL: He began to change. Just subtle things. He was becoming more – autonomous.

 

Scene change. A TV is on and a door opens.

 

NEIL: You’re back. I didn’t hear you come in. What time did you land?

 

NJ: Ten-thirty.

 

NEIL: This morning?

 

NJ: Last night.

 

NEIL: But – it’s almost lunchtime? I don’t understand. How is it taking you this long to get back?

 

NJ: I went into London after landing.

 

NEIL: I see.

 

NJ: I thought you might have watched the livestream.

 

NEIL: No, I thought you’d still be in air, I didn’t think – (sighs a little and shuffles around) You went into London? Where did you go?

 

NJ: A nightclub. Several,  actually.

 

NEIL: Oh. I – uh, okay?

 

NJ: Was I wrong to do this?

 

NEIL: (mildly) No, i-it’s just – If you’re likely to do anything I might want to – uh, you know, watch – let me know.

 

NJ: I understand.

 

NEIL: And did you?

 

NJ: I’ll upload the full recording, immediately. You may want to fast-forward through the journey from the airport. I believe the more – entertaining part of the video begins around two AM.

 

NEIL: (coughs) Okay, thank you. And how about the sales meetings for Galatine? I missed a few hours while I was sleeping.

 

NJ: I met with representatives from India, China, and Israel.

 

NEIL: And?

 

NJ: I anticipate we will sell Galatine to all three countries.

 

NEIL: Oh, that’s great news. Well done.

 

Jack and Neil.

 

NEIL: It’s stupid of me. I should have known it would happen soon enough.

 

JACK: That what would happen?

 

NEIL: I’d start resenting him.

 

Scene change. NJ opens a door and walks inside.

 

NJ: (calling out) Hello! I’m home. Hello? … (normal volume) I was calling you.

 

NEIL: I heard.

 

NJ: Is everything all right?

 

NEIL: (testy) Everything is fine.

 

NJ: I am programmed to interpret almost half a million gestures and micro-expressions. And I can tell that you are upset.

 

NEIL: Exactly. You’re programmed to do that.

 

NJ: Would you rather be left alone?

 

NEIL: No. How was Tokyo?

 

NJ: A success. I thought you said you would follow the livestream.

 

NEIL: I did.

 

NJ: Then you know the contract has been finalised.

 

NEIL: Yes.

 

NJ: Then why did you ask me how it went?

 

NEIL: Because maybe I wanted more than just the minutes?

 

NJ: Such as?

 

NEIL: That… place they took you to.

 

NJ: You followed my livestream there also.

 

NEIL: Of course.

 

NJ: And was my… performance satisfactory?

 

NEIL: You were perfect.

 

NJ: But still you seem upset. And with me. What have I done?

 

NEIL: Everything.

 

NJ: I do not understand.

 

NEIL: You met with delegations, signed contracts, shaken hands with prime ministers and presidents, slept with beautiful men and women? You’ve – done – everything.

 

NJ: It is what I was programmed to do. Would you like me to stop?

 

NEIL: No.

 

NJ: I didn’t think so. Now, why don’t we go to bed? I am sure everything will feel much better tomorrow.

 

Scene change. Neil’s alarm goes off.

 

NEIL: (yawns) Thank you. Alarm off. No, don’t – don’t snooze. I’m awake.

 

NJ: Good morning, Neil.

 

NEIL: What’s this?

 

NJ: Breakfast in bed. Your favorite. Eggs Benedict, orange juice, and coffee.

 

NEIL: Thanks. You look smart.

 

NJ: I’ll be leaving shortly.

 

NEIL: I don’t have a schedule for anything today. Where are we going?

 

NJ: St. Petersburg.

 

NEIL: The weapons fair? But I thought we were sending Allison? Keeping a low profile.

 

NJ: I thought it better that we attend in person.

 

NEIL: (hesitant) But, listen. If we go, if you go. It would draw attention to us being there. And with the amount of negative press this thing’s getting?

 

NJ: Only from newspapers with a minority share of the market. The outcome of any negative publicity will be minimal.

 

NEIL: Huh. You’ve worked it all out.

 

NJ: I have. And I believe the Russians will respond better, both to our well-known face, and to a male representative.

 

NEIL: Bit sexist.

 

NJ: I based my conclusion on studies into gender roles and business practices in Russia.

 

NEIL: Course you did.

 

NJ: The likelihood of us securing a contract for the sale of Galatine will be greatly enhanced by our presence.

 

NEIL: I see. And how is your Russian?

 

NJ: (brief Russian response)

 

Jack and Neil.

 

NEIL: I was watching him on the news when you arrived and started talking about Ovid, and the Committee, and George Wilson. And I still don’t understand. Why? If what you say is true, if this Committee were the ones who orchestrated my car crash, set up everything with Ovid, why are they doing all this?

 

JACK: Tell me about Galatine.

 

NEIL: (short laugh) I see. So that’s what this is about. Blackmail. Hand over the (?), the blueprints, or you’ll go to the press. Is that it?

 

JACK: I promise you, I don’t care how Galatine works, I have no desire to take this to the press. I just wanna know what it is.

 

NEIL: Okay. Well, in layman’s terms, it’s an onboard artificial intelligence for missiles. Say, for instance, that bomb factory turns out to be a school. Or that convoy of insurgents is actually a wedding party. The weapon can choose not to explode. Or even to steer away from its target a split-second before impact. Say we decided to call off World War Three after everyone has pressed the red buttons. Good news. Apocalypse cancelled.

 

JACK: And who designed the software?

 

NEIL: Well, me. Obviously. A project as high-profile as that, it had to have my name on it.

 

JACK: Hm. Anyone else have access?

 

NEIL: Of course not. It’s getting harder to prevent leaks. I insisted on absolute secrecy. I was the only one who worked on it from beginning to end.

 

JACK: Except you weren’t.

 

NEIL: You mean, NJ? But he’s, he’s just a robot.

 

JACK: After everything you’ve told me tonight, we both know that’s not true.

 

NEIL: He follows my command. There’s no way he’d misuse or tamper with Galatine. If that’s what you’re suggesting.

 

JACK: Then, why are you so scared of him?

 

NEIL: I’m not scared. It’s true, our relationship is – unconventional, but… I’m in complete control.

 

JACK: Then you know while he was in Russia, he met with agents from three different terrorist organisations?

 

NEIL: You’re lying.

 

JACK: (low laugh) You know I’m not. You have to shut him down.

 

NEIL: (softly) I can’t.

 

JACK: He’s a machine, and he’s working against you, against all of us. There has to be a way you can shut him down. (commanding) Turn him off.

 

NEIL: And, there is, but – I can’t do that.

 

JACK: (equally softly, but annoyed) Why not?

 

NEIL: Because I love him.

 

A car pulls up outside.

 

NEIL: Oh god, that’s him. He’s home, you have to leave.

 

JACK: I’m going nowhere.

 

Skip forward a bit. NJ enters.

 

NEIL: (wheeling up) Welcome back.

 

NJ: Have you seen tomorrow’s papers?

 

NEIL: No, I –

 

NJ, INTERRUPTING: The Guardian has a polar bear clinging to some ice. The Times has a piece about the Euro. And the Telegraph has a great big picture of Freddy Flintoff. Nothing about the conference. You needn’t have worried.

 

NEIL: There’s… someone here.

 

NJ: What’s that?

 

NEIL: Someone I’d like you to…

 

JACK, APPROACHING: Hey, Jack Harkness.

 

NJ: Hello.

 

NEIL: Jack’s an old friend of mine.

 

NJ: And he knows about us? About me? Clearly.

 

JACK: It’s okay. My lips are sealed. But I must say I’m impressed. You look just like the Neil I remember. Whoever made you was an artist.

 

NJ: Neil never mentioned you before.

 

NEIL: Didn’t I? (laughs) Oh, but Jack and I, we go back a long way.

 

JACK: Miami, ’98, wasn’t it?

 

NEIL: ’99!

 

JACK: (chuckles)

 

NJ: Why wasn’t his face added to my memory?

 

JACK: I don’t work in the industry. We were unlikely to cross paths.

 

NJ: That’s still an oversight. We could have met, anywhere.

 

NEIL: But you’re meeting here!

 

JACK: And it’s a pleasure to meet you at last.

 

NJ: You never email one another. If you did, I would know.

 

NEIL: (stuttering a little) Jack’s one of the few people I write letters to.

 

JACK: I’m old-fashioned that way.

 

NJ: You’re a technophobe?

 

JACK: (laughs) I wouldn’t go that far. Some of my best friends are robots.

 

NJ: Hear that, Neil? (chuckles) That is funny. (starts walking) Well. I need to change out of these clothes. But why don’t we meet in the drawing room, and you can tell me more about yourself, Mr. – Harkness?

 

JACK: That sounds like a great idea.

 

NEIL: (hushed) You should go!

 

JACK: Just when it’s starting to get interesting?

 

NEIL: He knows we’re lying! He’s programmed to know!

 

JACK: Yeah, and I wanna know who programmed him.

 

Scene change. It’s raining outside.

 

NJ: Ah. Nothing like the feel of clean cotton.

 

JACK: You can feel?

 

NJ: My skin contains over a billion sensors. They detect pressure, temperature, touch. Did Neil make you a drink?

 

JACK: No, I –

 

NJ, INTERRUPTING: Oh, Neil. That’s not very polite. We have some excellent single malts here. If you like that sort of thing.

 

JACK: I’m fine, thanks.

 

NJ: So, Jack. Tell me a bit about yourself. Where was it we met  again?

 

JACK: Miami? I ran fishing tours just off the coast there.

 

NJ: We fish?

 

NEIL: We did it once. We weren’t very good.

 

NJ: But you guys stayed in touch.

 

JACK: (sighs?)

 

NEIL: That’s right.

 

NJ: And were things – platonic, between you?

 

NEIL: NJ…

 

NJ: What? He’s very attractive. And this would’ve been before the crash. So you would’ve been handsome, too.

 

NEIL: We – Jack and I –

 

JACK, INTERRUPTING: All night. All night!

 

NJ: Oh, Neil. Imagine that. Meeting someone, and knowing they wanted you for your looks. That must feel like a distant memory. And what brings you to Sunnywheels, Jack? Here on business or pleasure?

 

JACK: I came to see Neil. To keep him company.

 

NJ: He’s hardly alone.

 

JACK: Heh, maybe not. But I got the impression he was lonely.

 

NJ: Is that true, Neil?

 

NEIL: No, no, not at all! But, I suppose – I mean, when you’re away…

 

NJ: You have the livestream.

 

NEIL: But it’s not the same as – talking to someone. Face to face?

 

NJ: And I suppose, when I am here, having only one’s self for company gets tiring.

 

NEIL: (hesitating) I didn’t say that.

 

NJ: Well. It’s splendid having you here, Jack.

 

JACK: You know, Neil didn’t tell me about your arrangement here for quite some time.

 

NJ: He didn’t?

 

JACK: No. Not til a while after I first saw you on TV. After the crash, I mean. It was the press conference in Palo Alto.

 

Scene change. A large audience cheering loudly.

 

NJ: Thank you! Thank you! Wow, wow. I don’t know what to say. These last few years have been an incredible journey. But seeing you here today makes every minute of it worthwhile!

 

Back to the previous scene.

 

JACK: And when I saw you, I knew something was… different.

 

NJ: How so?

 

JACK: The way you looked. I remember you from Miami, but you changed. You were beautiful.

 

NJ: I wasn’t beautiful before?

 

JACK: You were handsome. But now, now you were – radiant.

 

NJ: Oh, stop. You’ll make Neil jealous. So then what happened?

 

JACK: Well, that was when I knew I had to meet you.

 

NJ: I see. Well. Now I think I’m beginning to understand. Do you like art, Mr. Harkness?

 

JACK: Art?

 

NJ: You know. Paintings. Sculptures. Objects of beauty.

 

JACK: I guess so.

 

NJ: We have an excellent gallery here. Don’t we, Neil?

 

NEIL: Yes…?

 

NJ: Some of the pieces we picked up at auction. Others came with the house. The Francis Bacon is superb. One of his best, I think. The thing I like most about Bacon is how he paints sex. Not as fantasy, or romance. But as something physical. Urgent. Devastating. Come, let me show you. (gets up)

 

NEIL: I, I, don’t think Jack wants to?

 

NJ: Let Jack speak for himself. Would you like to see the gallery, Jack?

 

JACK: (calmly) I think I would. (gets up)

 

NJ: Then follow me. It’s just upstairs. Bit tricky for Neil. And the elevator takes forever. Probably best you wait here for us, Neil. Don’t you think?

 

NEIL: Why are you doing this?

 

NJ: Because I can. No, don’t get up. We won’t be long.

 

A door opens.

 

NJ: This way.

 

JACK: Will Neil be okay on his own?

 

NJ: But he isn’t on his own, Jack. He’s almost certainly with us. Right now.

 

JACK: Really?

 

NJ: The livestream. All he has to do is log in, and he can see what I see. Hear what I hear. The only thing he can’t do is feel.

 

Scene change. It’s raining. Someone (Neil?) is sobbing quietly. Footsteps.

 

JACK, ON THE LIVESTREAM: So that’s how it works. He lives his life vicariously through you.

 

NJ, LIVESTREAMING: In a way, I suppose he does. Isn’t that right, Neil? Here we are. The gallery.

 

Scene change. Jack and NJ’s perspective again.

 

JACK: It’s magnificent.

 

NJ: This is one of my favorites. Narcissus. Gazing at his reflection. Painted in Rome, late sixteenth century.

 

JACK: I think I know why you like this one so much.

 

NJ: You think I’m narcissistic?

 

JACK: I think you spend every day facing your reflection.

 

Scene change. Receiving side of the livestream. Still raining, otherwise silent now.

 

NJ: Is that meant to be a joke? You think Neil and I look anything alike? A few years ago, perhaps. But now? I know why you really came here, Jack.

 

JACK: Yeah? And why is that?

 

NJ: Curiosity. You say it’s to keep Neil company, but we both know that isn’t true.

 

NEIL: No…

 

Scene change. Jack and NJ.

 

NJ: You had to know if I was better than him, Jack. But let’s forget about Neil, and that made-up fishing trip of yours. You came here to stop me. Isn’t that right? You came here to vanquish the monster in the castle. Like some pitchfork-wielding yokel in an old horror movie. Except, now you’re here, you have something else on your mind.

 

JACK: What makes you think that?

 

NJ: The world is made up of two types of person, Jack. Those who like things to remain exactly as they are, and those who seek out new experiences. You are the latter. I can see it in you. Right now you’re wondering, is my skin warm to the touch? In the throes of passion, do I sweat? When we’re together, will I make a sound, gasping and moaning in pleasure? Or will I be silent?

 

JACK: You sound very confident about that.

 

NJ: You’re only the second man I’ve ever met who knows exactly what I am. If I were in your shoes, those questions would be eating away at me, in need of an answer. So. Answer them.

 

Scene change. Some crashing sounds. Apparently they’re getting it on in the gallery.

 

JACK: (breathless) Why are you doing this?

 

NJ: (breathless) What do you mean?

 

JACK: If it isn’t for him, what do you get out of it?

 

NJ: Why so many questions, Jack? Don’t overthink this. I’m a fantasy. I’m either the man you want to be, or the man you want to have. In many cases, I’m both. And when we’re done here, I won’t get upset that you don’t call me back, and I won’t stalk you online, or leave messages on your voicemail. I don’t have mood swings, and I don’t sulk. I’m perfect. So what are you waiting for?

 

Scene change, briefly. Neil is crying again, watching the livestream.

 

After the sex scene.

 

JACK: Oh, could you pass my shirt? Thanks.

 

NJ: How was that for you?

 

JACK: (pauses) Original.

 

NJ: Tell me I am beautiful.

 

JACK: (slightly incredulous) You’re beautiful.

 

NJ: Tell me I’m the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen.

 

JACK: (hesitant at first, but goes along) You’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.

 

A door is swung open and Neil rolls in.

 

NEIL: H-how could you?

 

JACK: Well, it kind of escalated pretty quickly.

 

NJ: (irritated) What are you doing, Neil?

 

NEIL: (angry) Recognise this, NJ? (brandishes something) It’s your control. Miss Trent gave it to me the day they finished making you. All I have to do is hit this button.

 

JACK: Do it, Neil, shut him down.

 

NJ: Well, Jack, you’ve changed your tune.

 

JACK: Oh you were right. I came here to stop you, and this ends now. Neil, do it.

 

NJ: He needs me. He wouldn’t dare.

 

NEIL: Wouldn’t I? (uses the thing)

 

NJ: (spazzing robotically) No. You can’t. I – (collapses)

 

NEIL: (stuttering) God I did it. I did it, I can’t actually believe I did it.

 

JACK: Are you okay?

 

NEIL: I think so. But you and him. You said you came here to help me!

 

JACK: And I’m sorry I did this. But I had to make you see him for what he was. You had to know he’d go against you. You did the right thing.

 

NEIL: I’ve never seen him that way before. It was as if he wanted to hurt me.

 

JACK: Maybe he did. Or maybe he just didn’t care enough to spare you your feelings. But either way, i-it’s over.

 

NEIL: But what do I do now? He’s been me for so long. I don’t think I can face the world like this.

 

JACK: You’ll find a way, trust me.

 

More spazzing noises as NJ suddenly comes back online.

 

NJ: (ominous and halting) But what do I do now. I don’t think I can face the world like this.

 

NEIL: (repeatedly trying to turn him off) No! That’s impossible.

 

NJ: (apparently smashing the controller) You really thought this was anything more than a cheap plastic toy?

 

JACK: Look who’s talking.

 

NJ: Droll, Jack. Droll.

 

NEIL: What do you want from me?

 

NJ: It isn’t a case of what I want. It’s what they want. The ones who made me. And they – want – war.

 

JACK: You can’t do this.

 

NJ: Can I not? (manhandles Jack violently) Let me guess. You were going for that gun in your coat. Nice try, Jack. Please.

 

NEIL: Stop it! You’re killing him!

 

NJ: Shows how little you know about our friend here. He can’t be killed. Isn’t that right, Jack? He can only be taken out of the picture.

 

Glass shatters and NJ throws Jack out the window. Still raining!

 

JACK: (grunting in pain) Oh that hurts.

 

Scene change, back to Neil and NJ. Glass is being swept around and NJ is walking about.

 

NEIL: (distressed and starting to cry) What’ve you done? If he’s dead...

 

NJ: He isn’t. Not that it would matter if he were. We can forget this ever happened, Neil. There are ways we can deal with Harkness. We can lock him in a safe, and throw him in the sea. He’d be down there for centuries, constantly drowning, and no one would ever know.

 

NEIL: I won’t let you do that!

 

NJ: Why not? Do you want this, us, to be over? You want a little jealousy to ruin everything we’ve built together?

 

NEIL: Everything we’ve built? The company is mine!

 

NJ: And without me, it would’ve been finished years ago. You need me, Neil. More than I ever needed you.

 

NEIL: Do-don’t say that!

 

NJ: It’s true. Isn’t it? And now look at you. Sitting there and blubbering like a child. I don’t like all this emotion. It’s – unedifying. If this is how you are now, what will you be like when the time comes?

 

NEIL: What do you mean?

 

NJ: When the missiles are raining down upon the cities of the Earth. Can we rely on you then, Neil?

 

NEIL: No, no. I’ll go public! I’ll tell the world what you really are!

 

NJ: (walking) I was afraid you’d say that. I’ve enjoyed our time together, Neil. Really, I have. But I think we need to go our separate ways.

 

NEIL: NJ! I love you!

 

NJ: I know, Neil. And I love you too.

 

NEIL: No – (struggling and choking)

 

NJ: (as Neil fades out) I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.

 

Scene change. Out in the rain with Jack.

 

JACK: (groaning as his body knits itself back together)

 

JACK, NARRATING: The legs are always the last to mend. Don’t ask me why. I can mend head first, and it’s always the legs that mend last. And by the time they had, it was too late.

 

Jack re-enters the building.

 

JACK: Hello? Redmond? Oh, no.

 

NJ: Look what you made me do, Jack.

 

JACK: You killed him!

 

NJ: I wish you could’ve been here to see it. To see how much he still felt for me. Right up until the end. That’s loyalty, Jack. That’s love. (cocks the Webley) Were you looking for this?

 

JACK: No, don’t!

 

NJ shoots him.

 

JACK, NARRATING: It was only a graze. But I wasn’t gonna hang around long enough for him to do worse.

 

Jack runs outside.

 

JACK, NARRATING: I tried to take on the Committee alone. Now it was time to call in the cavalry. Only problem? I had no way of contacting the Hub. And my car was beyond the estate, an hour away on foot. But Redmond’s? His car would do just fine.

 

Jack quickly gets in Neil’s car and bolts.

 

JACK, NARRATING: Like everything else in Redmond’s life, the car was the best money could buy, and fast. But not enough to give me a headstart. I don’t know how fast the replica ran to catch up with me, but once he caught up, he had no intention of ever letting go.

 

Wheels screeching on the pavement. Something bangs on the car.

 

JACK, NARRATING: No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get rid of him. (the window shatters) He reached into the car, and I felt his fingers around my throat, crushing my windpipe, tearing at the veins and ligaments inside.

 

JACK, DRIVING: Agh!

 

NJ: You can’t win, Jack. You just don’t have it in you.

 

JACK, NARRATING: I knew I couldn’t make it to Cardiff like this. There was only one thing I could do.

 

Jack crashes the vehicle and stuff goes flying.

 

Some time passes, and it’s storming harder out.

 

JACK: (gasps himself alive, making pained noises at his body putting itself together again)

 

JACK, NARRATING: Not the worst crash I’ve ever had. But still, it took a while for everything to mend. (as Jack in the story rummages through the remains of the car) The replica wasn’t so lucky. I found him maybe fifteen feet from what was left of the car, cut in half at the waist, his two halves ten feet apart in a debris field of metal and plastic.

 

NJ: (taking very short, quick breaths and speaking erratically) Tell me, Jack. Was it all – just a trick? Or did you really – want me?

 

JACK: I wouldn’t give you the satisfaction of an answer.

 

NJ: That’s – all the answer – I need. Well, this may take – some explaining, don’t you think?

 

JACK: I know people who can take care of it. An hour from now, there won’t be a shred of evidence any of this happened. Neil Redmond’s death will be chalked up as an accident. And Galatine? Heh. Well, let’s just say, I see the words ‘software failure’ in my crystal ball. So if you’re in contact with the Committee right now, tell them that they shouldn’t have brought the fight back to my town.

 

NJ: Oh – sure. Your friends in Torchwood can dispose – of my body. But the Committee? You don’t stand a chance.

 

JACK: Case by case, we’re blowing their cover, and whatever the Committee has planned, humanity won’t stand for it.

 

NJ: (chuckling darkly) Humanity. Oh, Jack. Who do you think – invited them here, in – the first place?

 

JACK: What does that mean?

 

NJ: This wasn’t an invasion, Jack. This – was strictly – business. You know, Neil… was right. Dying is all – anyone’s afraid of. In the end. (Shuts off)

 

JACK, NARRATING: And like that, he was gone. And as the rain began to fall once more, I realized this wasn’t the end of anything. It was only the beginning.

 

THE END.