Dreams of future; Dreams of truth

Ext. New York - DAY

Cue in The Seer's Tower by Sufjan Steven's.

Any normal day really, driving along with my great friends. We pass over a bridge, we find ourselves midway and realize, there is a gap between the bridge. Quicker than anything humanly possible, the boy driving my squeaks the breaks. Not just squeaks but pushes hard as if this is his last dying wish. We stop and everyone in the car finally takes a breath. It was like the first breath of the last day of our lives. Or what one would imagine.

Something is different in the air today. As we head back to Camp (a hotel-like building filled with hundreds of people) I notice the sky is bleaker than normal. Not like Zimbabwe blue skies, of course that would never happen in New York. But also not smog city blue. This color is gray. Not blue gray. But gray gray.

"In the tower above the earth
There is a view that reaches far
Where we see the universe
I see the fire, I see the end."

The back to Camp is silent as soon as we arrive. After we go to our rooms we leave instantly. Driving around seems like the best thing to do. The cars pass by as they always do. People walk, one foot in front of the other-- right foot, left food. We drive over the Manhattan Bridge.

Deja Vu...hmmm. There is a something.

My friends and I discuss the randomness of the day. There are no cars passing by on the opposite direction.

(Camera above Manhattan bridge and pans slowly to bridge.)

Cars cross the bridge, midpoint there is a huge gap in the middle. Cars plunge to their death. There is no other outcome. We see this. We don't know what to do. The boy driving slams his foot down and turns sharp. We hit the gap and brace that we can do nothing but wait to plummet to the water. Some how we escape and swim to shore.

Why we survived, I don't know. There are bodies floating in the shore and I can't help but think. "The sky is growing darker, the air is stale, the time has come."

INT. CAMP - DAY.
We make it back to our Camp. As we put the key in our room and open the door. We look to each other. We've had visitors.

"Seven miles above the earth
There is Emmanuel of mothers
With his sword, with his robe
He comes dividing man from brothers"

The furniture is turned over, our luggage has been searched. We rummage through what is left and wonder why our supplies were stolen.

One of the others and I went room to room, seeing if the scene was the same as our room. It was. We saw men with masks and guns running around kicking in doors. The surrounding people were confused and panicking. "What does this mean?"

In one of the rooms I found a baby, she was left. The intruders didn't want her, her caretakers were either taken or didn't want her. Either way, she was abandoned. I picked her up. I Found a backpack and started filling it with supplies. My friends ran into the room. "We have to go," they said.

I calmly kept grabbing supplies. It's funny when you think about necessity and wants all fitting into a backpack. Do I need this rope? or Do I need this book? The rope wins when it comes to surviving.

Our group and new addition sweep through the halls, and trying to make a quick and speedy escape. But something is wrong. The men in gas masks run toward us and begin separating us. Men go one way, women go the other. Since when did separation do any good?

"In the tower above the earth, we built it for Emmanuel
In the powers of the earth, we wait until it rails and rails
In the tower above the earth, we built it for Emmanuel
Oh, my mother, she betrayed us, but my father loved and bathed us."

As I hold the baby in my hand, I can only think of getting her to safety. The men with gas masks begin to separate the women, some go one way and the gunshots ring through the stale air. It's not her fault that destiny wants her dead.

I wait a minute and when another group is called to the other outside, I plan the escape. I make it far when the men with gas masks are grabbing their next project. I hear them yelling something about intelligence and they must be stopped. All educated women are next. A man stops me and begins taking me to another room.

The only way out of this was to make friends with this man. Maybe he would have pity on me. We begin talking and he laughs and I think I have an in.

Thoughts race, what really matters. Am I being punished for having a mind? It's funny, how material doesn't matter in the long run.

He holds his gun to me.
The day shows no redemption as far as I can see
The sky is bleak
The baby speaks

The man with the mask looks at her, then to me.

"Still I go to the deepest grave
Where I go to sleep alone."