The movie set is pitch black except a few dim lights casting eerie shadows. I'm up early, two cups of coffee and a wet rag to pry the sleep from my eyes. I stumble across the small clearing surrounded by the most technically advanced filming equipment on planet Earth. My heart literally pounds a deep rift in my chest while the lanky casting whip hustles me to one of the dressing trailers. It's opening day of filming for my first and possibly only movie I will ever make.
Inside, I see Peter Dinklage, the dwarf from Game of Thrones, whose make up takes hours to apply. He is playing Boondock, my sugar jacked, schizophrenic robot. I have to be careful and paint him in a favorable light so I don't get sued for defamation of character, which means I have to keep the conversation casual.
"Boondock is the friendliest and most naive bot in The Galaxy," I tell him. "He was passed over for graduation and never made it in social etiquette, but somehow he stole Ketty's heart." I realize I'm rambling.
"Little nervous, eh?" he tries not to crack a smile.
"It's like Christmas morning," I admit, "but you know Boondock's energetic personality branded him with a bad reputation, still, in his piezoelectric heart he is faithful unto death."
"I know a little about that," he smiles this time and the makeup artist curses under his breath. "You know they're thinking of extending Game of Thrones another season." He sees my look of surprise and continues, "It's all hush hush, and don't worry, R. R. Martin still has to write the book, so I can finish your movie."
"All done sir," says one of the artists. Dinklage stuffs the rest of his tofu burger gingerly in his mouth and washes it down with a sip of tea. I know he is a quiet, introspective vegetarian who loves animals, and I'm not worried about any getting hurt today because Spielberg will kick Abrams butt if they do. Suddenly a look comes across his face and the room seems to shift. He opens his mouth in an ear-splitting smile and my mind makes the connection between the fantasy I created and the reality of Hollywood in front of me.
In a squeaky childlike voice, he falls into character. "I can really relate to my Mistress's problems, because her childhood is a lot like mine," says the fully formed robot boy in the makeup chair. He was referring to Ketty, my other main character, who trains robots for a living.
"Ketty really didn't have a terrible childhood," I said.
"It's subtler," he continues his tirade. "Under the surface, she endured great emotional pain. The peer pressure alone is enormous, being a genetic anomaly in a perfect world," said Boondock. "She's really an outcast, born by natural childbirth, no genetic modifications, slightly overweight. My heart bleeds for her, and I will help her in any way I can." He's out of his chair now, shaking violently in a well-orchestrated cross between seizure and overstimulation.
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Science FictionIn a desperate attempt to sell a novel, David Masterson gives up everything to become famous. When his dream finally comes true, he finds himself on the set of his first movie, the camera's start to roll, and his creation comes to life before his ey...
