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End of a film on cloning // Jake Sisko

November 21, 2013

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‘Anslem’ wasn’t the only masterpiece in the Jake Sisko trunk. He didn’t talk about it as much, but there was also this…

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CUT IN

The anti-anti-hero stumbles into the final chamber, gun in hand, ready to shoot anything that looks like it might shut this whole crazy nightmare down.

The final chamber is huge. There are around five hundred cloning pods, all of them empty except one.

The anti-anti-hero walks towards it, raising his gun.

The glass of the pod is covered in condensation. There’s the shape of a face, but it’s impossible to tell who it belongs to.

Behind the anti-anti-hero, a man with a gun appears. It’s COPENHAGEN.

COPENHAGEN: Damn you, Quaidie. You’ve really fucked up my plans here.

QUAIDIE: And I’m gonna fuck them up even more.

COPENHAGEN: Not this time.

Copenhagen raises his gun, but he’s always had trouble with his aim. Everything else in his life, he’s decisive, but not when he fires a gun.

Quaidie shoots blindly and hits Copenhagen on the shoulder.

He shoots him again, sending him falling backwards through some pipes and badly-constructed electrical equipment.

Copenhagen lands hard and tries to die.

Quaidie swaggers over and tells him he’s been shot.

COPENHAGEN: Yeah. [Pause] Don’t suppose you know why the dialogue’s laid out like this?

QAUIDIE: Easier to read.

COPENHAGEN: Takes me back to my theatre days. I played Henry once, you know?

QUAIDIE: Who dat?

COPENHAGEN: Fuck you, bricklayer.

Copenhagen dies.

Quaidie goes back over to the final cloning pod, but he’s too late. It’s been opened.

QUAIDIE: You…

Standing in front of him, clutching a manuscript, is the naked Robert Bolano.

BOLANO: Don’t shoot, I’m a poet.

QUAIDIE: I don’t care.

BOLANO: Wait…

Bolano tries to hand the manuscript to Quaidie, but he swats it away and shoots Bolano in the cheek.

Bolano falls, bleeding onto his manuscript.

QUAIDIE: You gonna say something too?

BOLANO: Maybe.

Quaidie waits, rolling up the manuscript and smoking it.

BOLANO: Man, I’ve got….some kids to feed.

QUAIDIE: Let them get their own damn food.

BOLANO: You cruel bast…

QUAIDIE: Die, commie.

Bolano dies.

Quaidie smokes the remaining pages of Nazi Poetry in the Americas and then leaves.

When he’s gone, another pod opens.

Norman Mailer stumbles out, still old, muttering ‘relevance, relevance, relevance’ over and over. He trips on a cable and falls onto Bolano’s knee, dying instantly.

FADE OUT

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