text: Keith Mitchell awakes to the sound of a ringing bell. As it has been since the accident, there is a second of confusion at waking up somewhere that is not his mother’s house. It doesn’t take long for him to remember where he is - the Haxton Regional Rehabilitation Centre. He repeats the words to himself and that helps to clear the fog of sleep. Then, he turns to sit at the side of the bed, winces at the pain in his head and lifts the leg that is still in a cast to join his other uninjured leg. He’s become used to the dull, itchy feeling below his knee and is certainly grateful they didn’t need to amputate it. He reaches out to grab his crutches and starts to limp out of his room and down the long hallway that leads to the dining room. It took a little time, but eventually he started to get used to communal living. It wasn’t much of a choice - his mother was in her 70s and couldn’t provide the support he needed. He limps to the serving area and sees the broad back of Belinda, the cook. Keith is fairly intimidated by Belinda, not because she is mean, but because she is very particular about how food is served. Keith can hear the TV now from down the hall - some sitcom is on and he can hear the laugh track. Belinda turns and he smiles, says: ‘Good morning.’ Belinda’s features, as usual, seem to be carved from stone and she gives a grunt of recognition as she piles his plate with rubbery eggs and hashbrowns. He limps over to the table and digs in. The food isn’t great, but he can’t really complain. He and his mother don’t have much money, and his father didn’t leave them much after he died, so the idea of a private facility was out of the question. Keith hears approaching footsteps and turns to see Marcus, a friend he had made since arriving. Down the hall, the audience cheers, probably for the entrance of a character that was a fan favourite. Keith smiles at the coincidence and he and Marcus exchange pleasantries. Soon, they are sitting beside each other eating. ‘I mean, could they at least get some seasoning on these hashbrowns? They taste like the bottom of the skillet.’ Keith shakes his head: ‘You gotta stay positive, Marcus. Just try to look on the bright side.’ Marcus chuckles: ‘I admire that about you, man. You always stayin’ positive in this place. ‘Specially after what you went through.’ From the TV audience, a chorus of awwws. ‘Well, I’m just happy to be here. It could have been worse, you know. Like my mother always says, gratitude is always the answer. ’ Marcus looks at him for a second and then continues to shovel the breakfast into his mouth. They eat in comfortable silence until they are finished and have returned their plates, appeasing Belinda’s iron stare. Marcus stretches and winces - Keith wasn’t sure what injury he was dealing with, but figured it was something with his back that he didn’t want to talk about. ‘So, what you wanna do today? You know you gotta get out and get some sunlight. Come to the gym with me. You can spot me, right?’ He asks the question with a polite look to Keith’s cast. ‘Of course I can. There’s nothing wrong with these babies,’ he says with a flex of his arms. The audience from the TV down the hall laughs and they set out towards the gym. * After the gym, they head for the TV room. Marcus grabs the remote as Keith limps into a seat. He clicks around a bit until he lands on the opening credits of a show. Keith recognises the song immediately: ‘That’s Daydream! By The Loving Spoonful. I used to listen to it all the time. It’s a good trivia question, too. Most people know the song but not the band.’ Marcus smiles and nods his head in apparent amazement. ‘Damn, that’s good trivia. It’s a nice song, too.’ They listen as the opening credits roll. In big letters the words Blink and You’ll Miss It fill the screen. In typical 90s fashion, there are a series of montage-like shots that introduce the characters. The first is a young man, probably in his 30s - he is shown with his head in the hood of a car until he looks at the camera and smiles. Next is an older woman sitting at a kitchen table cutting out coupons - she cuts one too narrow and crumples it up, then looks at the camera with feigned outrage. Next is a father and daughter - they walk through a field and he holds her hand. The snippet of the song ends with the famous whistling before it fades to black. The opening scene is a typical suburban living room. The older woman sits at a table cutting coupons - this must be a recurring thing for her character , Keith thinks. The door opens and the young man walks in. The crowd cheers. The man is blonde and slightly pudgy and wears a ridiculous uniform, all bright red and white checkers from some kind of fast-food chain. ‘How was your day at work, dear?’ the mother says. ‘Same as always. Why do people like chicken so much anyways?’ The audience laughs at this and so do Keith and Marcus. The man sits on the couch and looks at his mother. ‘What’s with the coupons all the time?’ ‘What, you think we are the Rockerfellers?’ Audience laughter. ‘Besides, it wouldn’t hurt you to be more cautious with your spending. You never know, you might meet a girl someday and you’ll want to be able to take her on a nice date.’ The mother smiles now, imagining a future where her son would not be single and living in her basement. The audience laughs but the son looks angry. ‘Mom, I told you, I just need some time. After Alice and I...’ The audience lets out a chorus of awwwws, indicating that a previous episode would have dealt with the break-up. ‘I need to get changed. I’ll be back up for dinner later.’ The man goes downstairs - he clearly lives there. There are clothes and empty bottles of beer strewn everywhere. On the wall, there are photos of a woman, presumably Alice, that have been ripped and scribbled on with permanent marker. The man opens an ancient fridge, grabs a beer, sits at a desk and opens up a photo album. There are more photos of Alice and him and he stares at them longingly. The audience awwwws and so do Marcus and Keith. Then, the man lowers his uniform trousers and reaches his hands into his underwear. The audience lets out a series of gasps and there is a crescendo of excitement. Keith looks at Marcus: ‘Wait, what? Is this from the 90s? This is... pretty messed up.’ Marcus shrugs: ‘I guess they were trying to push the envelope. Seinfled did the episode on masturbation, right? So this guy is a little sick. But he clearly just misses his girl, right?’ Keith turns back to the TV - the man is now vigorously masterbating and the camera stays close to his face. Sweat drips and lands on the photo album - Keith can hear the droplet land and the grunting but can’t look away from the man’s eyes that now seem hopelessly angry. He moans repeatedly until he climaxes and the audience cheers. He wipes his hands on the photo album and, alerted by a bumping sound, turns towards the stairs. ‘What’re you doing down there?’ the shrill voice of the mother asks. ‘Nothing! Just doing some work - working on my drawings.’ ‘I just hate that I can’t get down these stairs anymore. You know, if you just saved a bit more money, we could get one of those stair-lift things.’ The shrill voice fills the basement and the man puts his hands over his ears. ‘Fine, fine!’ he shouts back. A minute passes with the man sipping his beer and looking at the photo album. Eventually, the shrill voice: ‘Dinner!’ The man downs the beer and trudges up the stairs and the screen fades to black before going to a commercial. * The commercial is for a tow truck company. A man in overalls stands in front of images of destroyed cars being lugged around but Keith isn’t listening. He turns to Marcus: ‘You wanna watch something else? This show is pretty... weird.’ Marcus shrugs: ‘Ah, just give it a chance. It’s trying to be - ah, shit, what’s the word? Subversive or something.’ The tow truck commercial is over and the next one starts: a man in a suit stands in front of a white background. ‘Have you sinned?’ he says in a deep voice. The man keeps talking but Keith isn’t listening - a loud bang has distracted him. He looks behind him, towards the kitchen, expecting to see the cause of the sound, but sees nothing. He turns to Marcus: ‘Did you hear that banging sound? Sounded like it was from the kitchen.’ Marcus shrugs: ‘Nope. You a bit jumpy today though, man. You gotta take it easy!’ He claps a hand on his shoulder, smiles and holds his hand there for a few seconds. The commercial with the man speaking about sinning is over and the show has resumed. The set is darker now and the camera starts at the top of the stairs. Slowly, it descends into the basement but keeps the focus held in front of it. There is no more laugh track and Keith feels his chest tighten. ‘I thought this was a sitcom? I’m not a fan of scary stuff.’ Marcus’ eyes are wide with excitement: ‘It’s experimental, bro. Subversive. C’mon, keep watching.’ The camera gets to the bottom of the stairs and pans slowly towards a chair in front of a television. The blonde, pudgy man - the protagonist - sits and stares ahead vacantly. The TV screen is blurred but he is not and his bloodshot eyes gleam in the darkness. In his hands he holds a bottle of whiskey, drunk nearly to completion. The camera zooms slowly towards him and for a second, it seems like he is going to break the fourth wall and look back into the camera, but he doesn’t. He stares at the blurry TV until he stands up. He moves to the photo on the wall, gently caresses and kisses it. He grabs a set of keys on the table and goes upstairs. There is a jump cut to the man driving. The perspective is his, and the white line in the middle of the road disappears and reappears as he swerves. The man is crying and when he goes to dry his tears, he nearly misses an oncoming car. The car honks and Keith feels his heart pumping. ‘I don’t like this, Marcus. Please, can we watch something else?’ He hears the banging from the kitchen and could swear that someone is watching him. He turns but sees nothing. Marcus doesn’t take his eyes from the TV: ‘Just stick with it, bro. This is some grade-A filmmaking here. See how he puts the camera where the guy would be looking? Amazing use of perspective.’ The driver, keeping the car straight for the time being, seems to remember something. He reaches down and starts to dig around through a pile of trash and when his hand closes on a half-full bottle of vodka, he looks up to blinding headlights. The screen goes white and there is a dissonant sound of screeching violins and thumping timpanis. Fade back in and the camera lingers on the wreckage, the metallic carnage; the moon above shines indifferently. The scene jumps to a courtroom outlined in wood-panelling. As much as he wants to, Keith can’t look away. The camera cuts to a shot of the defendant - he now wears a rumpled suit instead of a fast-food uniform. His head is bandaged and he has been crying. Another cut to a wide shot as the judge enters the courtroom. The bailiff speaks but it sounds muffled - like Charlie Brown’s teacher, thinks Keith as he tries to ignore the banging sound from somewhere behind him. The camera cuts again to the little girl from the credits. She sits in the audience section and wears a sling around her left arm. There is a space beside her that is empty. Her eyes do not leave the back of the main character’s head. The rest of the scene plays out with a surreal sense of action - the dialogue is too muffled to hear, but it is clear that the protagonist is on trial for something. Eventually, the jury members stand and leave the courtroom. Then, the theme song from Jeopardy plays. Keith and Marcus laugh, enjoying the incongruity of the moment and the music, a temporary release from the tension. It plays for five minutes and the camera holds the wide shot of people fidgeting in their seats and nervous looks being exchanged and the protagonist is shown from the chest up and the girl still stares at him until the jury comes back in. Marcus reaches to Keith with his eyes wide: ‘Oh shit! Shit’s about to get real!’ There is a sparkle in his eyes that Keith doesn’t recognise - a glimmering of some kind. When the foreperson of the jury stands, her dialogue is still unintelligible, but based on the reaction of people cheering in the audience and the protagonist hanging his head in shame, it is clear that he has lost. The little girl stands up and walks towards him. Her dialogue is intelligible and stands out above the din of reaction: ‘You should have died. Not him. You deserve to die. Not him. You should have died. Not him. You should have DIED!’ And she turns to the camera before it fades. Keith looks at Marcus but Marcus doesn’t look back at him. The banging from behind him is louder now and he turns to see two dark eyes looking at him, piercing him, but they disappear quickly. He looks back at the TV and the setting has returned to the suburban home. The mother is cutting coupons - she has been crying. The phone rings. She picks it up. She nods. Nods again. She cries. She howls in anguish and pain, like a dying animal, like a dying god weeping for a world of death and sin and knowing that there is nothing she can do to help, that her world will be nothing but pain now and the only thing she can still do is cry. Then, she stops. Grabs her chest. Falls out of her chair. There is no music, only a faint static sound. The camera zooms in on her face as she takes her last breath. One of the coupons falls from the table, swirling in the air until it lands on her face. The screen goes black and the whistling from that Daydream song starts again. Marcus stands up and exhales: ‘Shit! That was a good one. I mean, really, really well done. Don’t you think?’ Keith looks at him and then looks at the TV which is now showing a rerun of some other sitcom. Something doesn’t feel right. Marcus doesn’t... seem right. ‘Look, I should call my mother. I usually call her around this time of day anyway. She’ll be worried about me.’ ‘Sure, bro. Be my guest. The world is your oyster!’ he shouts and laughs and his laugh is deeper now, echoing, almost guttural. Keith turns and walks quickly back along the hallway and slows down, expecting to see Belinda. Instead, a smaller figure is standing where she normally would. Turning to him is the girl from the television. Her eyes are flaming and she screams: ‘It should have been you! It should have been you!’ Keith runs away from her and sprints towards the lounge, where the phones are. The door - which is usually open - is locked. He hears the banging sound again, and it is louder now. He looks behind him and the girl is staring at him. Keith, now firmly convinced that this whole thing has been a bad dream, stops. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. Waits for sleep to take him somewhere else. For him to wake up in bed, quietly, so that he doesn’t disturb his mother sleeping two floors above him. But when he opens his eyes, he blinks. The room around him changes first: what was once cosy and relaxing is now metallic. Sparse. Menacing. The tables and chairs in the dining hall are now long benches. He looks at himself and sees an orange jumpsuit with letters and numbers across it. He looks to his leg - the one with the cast. He falls over once the reality of his amputation is absorbed into this new reality. The door in front of him opens and two men in lab coats step in and help him up. ‘Ah, Mr. Mitchell! Got started a bit early today, did we? Well, you know this would go a lot better if you just stopped watching that TV. It’s an instant reaction as soon as you click that thing on.’ The other man is reaching in his pocket and bringing out something sharp. Keith looks at them and says: ‘I’d like to call my mother. There has been a misunderstanding. Where’s Marcus?’ The man with the needle smiles a smile of sadness at him but it is really just pathos, emotion brought on at the sight of the most truly pathetic and worthless of God’s creatures. He holds Keith’s arm gently and inserts the needle, pushes the plunger and Keith’s world goes dark once again. * The next morning, Keith Mitchell awakes to the sound of a ringing bell.