INT. JASON’S APARTMENT CUBE – NIGHT
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[The tiny cube glows dimly in the soft blue light of a ceiling strip that flickers now and then. The power-charging pod hums gently in one corner, while a small fold-out table is crammed against the wall. The “kitchen” is just a heating coil and a rusting oil pan. But it’s warm—metaphorically, anyway.]
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[Jason slaps down three cheap metal trays filled with a mix of canned machine oil, heat-cubes, some questionable gray strips labeled “digestive substrate,” and a single gear tendon skewer cut in thirds.]
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JASON
“Alright, welcome to the finest low-budget cuisine this side of Central City. Try not to burn your tongues or internal regulators.”
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SD-A (picking up his tray, delighted)
“This is the first time I’ve had dinner that wasn’t from the side of a dead robot. I’m... kind of excited.”
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SD-K (deadpan, picking up his own tray)
“That’s the most depressing thing I’ve heard in a week, and we fought a corpse-puppet yesterday.”
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JASON (mouth full already)
“Don’t insult the cuisine. This stuff has at least four legally required minerals.”
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[The three sit. There’s a strange, pleasant quiet as they eat. SD-A hums a jingle he heard earlier. Jason just focuses on chewing without crunching down on anything still wriggling. The camera pans over the tray: something does twitch slightly. He ignores it.]
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---
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LATER
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[Dinner trays stacked in the bin. SD-A is cross-legged on the floor, watching a grainy cartoon on Jason’s old wall screen. It stars a malfunctioning delivery drone and its sidekick coffee mug. The mug doesn’t talk—it just vibrates ominously.]
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[Jason is nearby, tinkering at a small workbench. Sparks flick out as he welds a spindly mechanical crab arm to a rubber duck.]
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JASON
“If this works, we might have a fully autonomous bath buddy. If it doesn’t, it becomes a hallway menace. Honestly, win-win.”
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[SD-K leans against the wall, arms crossed, eyes on both of them.]
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SD-K
“How are you two so... calm? We’re literally being stalked by something, there’s a parasitizing material infecting bots, and you're welding crab legs to a toy.”
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[Jason pauses, sets the torch down, and wipes his face.]
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JASON
“Because if we panic now, we’ll just overheat and die tired.”
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[SD-A laughs softly.]
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SD-A
“He’s not wrong.”
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SD-K (muttering)
“I didn’t say he was.”
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[Jason swivels his chair around.]
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JASON
“You know what freaks me out more than all of this? Not knowing anything. That’s what I hate. So, while we’re on the topic—mind telling me how you guys actually live? You wander around all night drinking oil and avoiding death, sure, but… what else?”
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[SD-A leans back thoughtfully.]
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SD-A
“Well… We don’t really have homes. Purification bots don’t sleep the way others do—our CPUs go into cooldown mode only when we absolutely need to. And food isn’t consistent. You fight, you eat. You don’t fight, you starve.”
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SD-K
“We avoid cities. Use ruins. Hide in broken things. Sometimes we find places that still have power and hibernate for a few hours. No ‘days off’ in our world.”
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[Jason slowly nods.]
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JASON
“...That sucks.”
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SD-A (trying to stay light-hearted)
“It builds character?”
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SD-K (dry)
“It builds trauma.”
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JASON
“Well, you’ve got this dump for now. Not glamorous, but it doesn’t actively want to disassemble you. Usually.”
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[They fall into silence. The cartoon plays on. The delivery drone explodes for comedic effect. The mug survives.]
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SD-A (watching the screen)
“I like the mug. It reminds me of K.”
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SD-K
“...Do you want to be kicked or just thrown out the window?”
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JASON (grinning, leaning back)
“This is the most dysfunctional sleepover I’ve ever had. And I used to work crowd control.”
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