EXT. BUS STOP – DAY
A tiny, half-enclosed
cube made of ugly grey metal houses two girls, scrunched together on a bench
that’s too small.
Beth sits next to
another girl with the curliest goddamn hair you’ve ever seen. It seems the perfect extension of this
teenager who sits with arms crossed, hands crossed, legs cross – MIRIAM is the
poster child for anxious.
BETH
There was nothing to say.
MIRIAM
Did
you tell her we were going into the city today?
BETH
She
knows I’m with you.
MIRIAM
I woulda said something.
BETH
That’s cause you’re a talker Miriam.
MIRIAM
I am. And
I love my mom.
BETH
I love my mom.
MIRIAM
Sure. But you’re not friends with your mom.
BETH
We
just don’t speak the same language. Her
religion is everything to her.
MIRIAM
It’s
funny you say that, as we’re on our way to a dinner hosted by one of the most
famous Religious Studies professors in the world. A man we’ll be working closely with over the
next four years, or maybe more, in a hand-picked thinktank to further his
research…on religion.
BETH
Religions. There’s a difference.
MIRIAM
Semantics.
BETH
It’s
not semantics. I’m intellectually
curious about many different religions, not emotionally hogtied to just one.
MIRIAM
Whoo
boy, I feel bad for your parents. If
you’re holier than thou now, I can’t imagine what you’ll be like after the
semester devoted to the origins of Christianity and its development in the
modern world.
BETH
You
don’t need to feel bad for them. They
think I’m studying English, and I intend to keep it that way.
MIRIAM
You
plan on lying to your parents about your major for the rest of your life? What if you go beyond a bachelor’s? Get your doctorate? What if you get a job, or get published?
BETH
I’ll
deal with it then. Maybe age’ll buy me
some ground in that conversation. Maybe
building a successful life off of my brain instead of blind belief will prove
I’m not as lost as they think.
MIRIAM
Ohmigod,
we get it. You’re smart. If you lived back in the day, you woulda seen
through Christ’s whole “son of god” scam in a heartbeat.
BETH
I
don’t think it’s a scam, necessarily. I
just don’t understand people who buy it as history. A benevolent god-man is born of a virgin,
preaches for three years, and causes such a stir that all these groups of mustache-twirlers
conspire to kill him. But that’s ok,
cause that was all part’a’the plan.
Because he was so perfect, his death gave us life. This is, literally, a story people believe
actually happened in the real world.
MIRIAM
Yeah,
people like your mom. And not people
like Professor Alton Kind.
BETH
He
just wants people to use their minds. To
question everything.
MIRIAM
You
don’t have to sell me Beth. I
agree. I wrote a thirty-five page
application letter that started out with a, “Professor Kind, I am Miriam Gold
and I’ve been dreaming of becoming a part of your thinktank since my freshman
year of high school,” and then quickly turned into a dissertation on the life
and legacy of the Baal Shem Tov.
BETH
Who’s
that?
MIRIAM
Weren’t
you just preaching to me how enlightened you are because you’re curious about
all religions?
BETH
Curious
being the key word. Why do you think I’m
going to college?
MIRIAM
To
learn what the word “semantics” means.
EXT. BROADWAY – LOWER MANHATTAN
– DAY
Beth and Miriam walk
around the city of Manhattan. Like two
teenagers who haven’t spent much time in it, they can’t help but look up at all
the incredibly tall buildings surrounding them.
It’s nothing but smooth
glass and steel on all sides. A monument
to modernity.
Then make a left on
Church Street, and they take a step into the past. They see a small graveyhard, closed in by a
large fence. Beyond the graveyard, is a
beautiful little chapel – St. Paul’s.
Miriam refers to her
phone. Beth looks at her questioningly,
but Miriam finally looks up, nods at Beth and points to the chapel. This is where they’re supposed to be.
They come to a gate,
chained and locked. They look up from
that to find a sign:
ON SIGN:
PLEASE ENTER ON
BROADWAY
ON GIRLS
They both shrug, and
off they go.
INT. ST. PAUL’S
CATHEDRAL – CONTINUOUS
Beth and Miriam walk
into the chapel proper, awed by the vaulted ceilings and gorgeous, eighteenth
century finishings.
BETH
This is – stunning!
MIRIAM
I
agree. Though I didn’t think you had it
in you to be genuinely awed.
VOICE (O.S.)
Ladies?
They look down and scan
the room.
Off in the corner,
standing in front of an open door, is a well-dressed female ATTENDANT.
ATTENDANT
Can I help you?
Beth and Miriam
approach her.
MIRIAM
Sorry
if we’re in the wrong place. But we’re
incoming freshmen at NYU, and we were told to meet our new professor here? We think?
I mean, the address is right…
ATTENDANT
Can
I see your invites please?
Miriam shows the woman
her phone. Beth takes a moment to search
through hers, finally doing the same.
ATTENDANT
You
can relax, you’re in the right place. Head
on down the stairs.
The Attendant steps
aside and lets them pass.
At the bottom of the
stairs, the girls come out to a small room, big enough for maybe 30 ppl. It looks even older than the chapel.
Lining the walls are
just bookshelves, filled with books, papers, stacks – every crevice is filled
with something on which words are printed.
In the center of the
room is a round table, with seven seats.
Five of them are filled, with half-finished plates and cups set before
them. Except that now, all eyes have
turned to look at the two people who showed up late.
From where they stand,
Beth and Miriam have direct line-of-sight to an older gentleman, richly dressed
and sticking out like a sore thumb compared to the raggedy teenagers
surrounding him. He doesn’t look old,
bearing no lines on his face or grey hair, but he feels old. This is ALTON KIND.
ALTON
Ladies. You’re late.
Please take a seat.
Beth and Miriam begin
walking tensely toward their seats. Beth
looks to the other people her age at the table.
They’re all dressed formally.
MIRIAM
(Whispers
to Beth)
Look
how fancy. Why aren’t we fancy?
BETH
(Whispers
to Beth)
I
dunno. I didn’t even think about it.
The two sit
uncomfortably. Before they settle, wait
staff descend upon them with prepped meals and water. Then, as instantly as they appeared, they’re
gone.
BETH
Professor Kind, I’m…
ALTON
...late.
BETH
Sorry sir.
ALTON
(To Miriam)
You too.
MIRIAM
No sir.
I’m Miriam Gold.
Beat.
BETH
I apologize for my friend’s
tasteless joke.
ALTON
No
need to apologize. Just don’t be late
again.
BETH
Of
course.
ALTON
Because
now I have to start over. And I promise
you, this will be the first, and only time, you see me start over.
BETH
Sorry
sir.
ALTON
Ms.
Gold?
MIRIAM
Yes,
I agree with Beth’s sorrow sir. And
I…add my own.
Alton Kind takes a sip
of what is, undoubtedly, a fancy scotch that’s older than anyone at the table.
ALTON
I’d
like to welcome you all, again, to NYU and very specifically to my
thinktank. You’re of different academic
backgrounds, but the passion you all share for religious studies was evident in
your application letters. Know that that
passion is why you’re here. So long as
you keep that passion, you’ll go far in this program. But passion for the work is all there is room
for here. Do not bring any of your
personal issues, your teenage angst, your hormonal imbalances. You’re here to work. Life is meant to be lived outside these
halls.
Beth takes a bite of
something and drops a fork. The rattle
pulls focus to her.
BETH
Sorry.
Again.
Alton Kind takes
another sip of that sweet, sweet whiskey.
ALTON
Now
that we’ve covered what doesn’t come in here, let’s talk about what doesn’t
leave here. All around you, you’ll find
books, stacks, tomes, all filled with mine and several other lifetimes worth of
research into all the religions of the world.
Upstairs, above the chapel, there are some of the most sacred artifacts;
remnants of the past you won’t find in any museum, ever. So long as you are in this thinktank, and in
this sacred place, you will have unfettered access to all of this. But none of it is to leave this site. If anything does, the person responsible will
be immediately removed not just from the thinktank, but from NYU, no questions
asked.
We see the students
looking back at Alton Kind, if their mouths aren’t agape, that’s definitely how
they feel.
MIRIAM
(Under her breath)
Jesus.
ALTON
Yes. And Buddha.
And Mohammed. And the Baal Shem
Tov…
Miriam nudges
Beth.
ALTON
…and
every other person mankind has put on a pedestal. We’ll look at all these prophets through a
critical lens. For all intents and
purposes, as soon as you arrive in September, consider yourselves detectives. I’m going to lead you in a deeper
investigation into religious mystery than anyone has ever embarked upon. And at the end, maybe we’ll have some
answers.
BETH
To
what questions?
ALTON
To
your questions, Ms. Faye. To the
questions that drew you all to this thinktank in the first place. To the questions that have likely been
plaguing you since you were old enough to think critically. I know what those are for me. What they are for you, is your own business.
BACK ON the kids. They are still agape, but clearly salivating
now. They’re buying what this guy’s
selling.
ALTON
With
that being said, now it’s time for dessert.
For the next hour, you have free reign.
Go. Read. Handle.
Explore this space. No one’s
keeping an eye on you, and there’s plenty of fertile ground here. Go digging.
Almost unanimously, the
kids get up. Some race to the
bookshelves. Some go back to the
staircase where Beth and Miriam entered.
Beth and Miriam stand
at their seats. They look at each other
for a beat, then chart off in their own directions. Miriam makes for the books, and Beth heads
back to the entrance.
INT. STAIRCASE –
CONTINUOUS
We follow Beth as she
makes her way up a narrow staircase. She
looks over to the view of the gorgeous chapel below.
She looks back, and in
front of her she sees the end of her road.
A small open doorway, with no door attached, that marks the end of this
ascent.
She walks through.
INT. ST. PAUL’S
CATHEDRAL ALCOVE – CONTINUOUS
Beth enters into a
small, cramped space. It’s laden wall to
wall with clear, plexiglass walls. At
least, they might be clear, except inside is a pitch darkness.
Surrounding these
simple looking cases are all kinds of high-tech vents that feed into a board
with dials and switches at the other end of the room. At the bottom of the cases themselves are
placards, an LCD screen listing the temperature, and a timer switch.
Only one other girl is
in this room. A light briefly shines on
this girl’s face, then quickly cuts out. Seeming as though she’s seen all she needed to
see, she walks right past Beth back down the stairs.
Beth walks in, slowing
as she walks past the first case. She
turns the dial at the bottom.
ON THE CASE as a low
light comes up and we see, through Beth’s eyes, a golden heart-shaped case, its
edges gilded and shining. The center of
it though, is glass, and behind the glass is the ugliest mound of shriveled
gray mass anyone has ever seen.
Beth’s eyes move down
to the sign at bottom of the case. The
LCD screen reads a temperature of sixty-eight degrees, with fifty percent
humidity. Fuckin NYC.
ON SIGN:
THE HEART OF ST.
CAMILLUS DE LELLIS
ON BETH
She doesn’t stop, just
moves on. She catches the LCD on this
one that reads the same sixty-eight degree temperature, with fifty-five percent
humidity. She turns the dial.
Behind the next case is
an alabaster stone. Within it, is set a
footprint of a left foot.
Beth looks down.
ON SIGN:
THE FOOTPRINT OF
MOHAMMED
ON BETH
She moves on. Same sixty-eight degree, fifty-five
percent. She turns the next dial.
The next case houses a
single canine tooth. It’s small,
seemingly pristine. Beth looks down.
ON SIGN:
THE BUDDHA’S TOOTH
ON BETH
She moves on. Same temperature, same humdidity, last dial.
At the next case, her
eyes pulse and she stops. She turns
fully to face, stepping closer to the plexiglass.
We see the top half of
an ancient looking sword. A loose strand
falls from the grip, half of the very small crossguard is missing, and what’s
left of the thin, top half of the blade is chipped, cracked and stained with
rust. Beth looks down.
ON SIGN:
THE SWORD OF ST. PETER
ON BETH
She takes it in. Dumbstruck.
Then there’s a…
BEEP, BEEP
Beth looks over to the
control board where all that futuristic tubing feeds into. She notices some lights going off, but
nothing that clues her into what’s happening.
BEEP, BEEP
She looks down, in the
direction of the beeps. Near the sign
that tells her what the sword is, there’s a small LCD screen with a number on
it – it reads seventy-five degrees, humidity sixty percent.
BEEP, BEEP
Now it’s seventy-seven
degrees, humidity sixty-five percent.
Fuck.
Beth frantically looks
at the LCD screen at the bottom, for anything she can do. She doesn’t find any buttons. She looks over to the panel all the tubes are
feeding into – nothing there.
BEEP, BEEP
Eighty degrees and
seventy percent humidity now. Beth is at
a loss. She turns toward the doorway she
came in through, takes a few hurried steps back toward where she came from.
WHOOOSH
Beth stops, turns
around and looks back at the case. The
plexiglass has popped out.
She rushes back, grabs
the plexi on either side and lifts it off its hinges. She sets it down.
The artifact is in
front of her now, with no barrier between them.
BEEP, BEEP
Beth wakes up. She reaches in and grabs the frame the sword
rests on, pulling it out of the malfunctioning case. She sets it on the ground, and looks at the
sword more closely.
It appears to be
glowing. Red. Like, with heat.
She slowly inches her
hand toward it, hesitates, then lets her finger barely scrape the hilt.
We hear the SIZZLE of a
burn as Beth throws her head back. But
she doesn’t scream out in pain. Her eyes
are wide, pupils dilated, and PUSH IN on those dark spots.
We travel through those
tunnels, until we land…
INT. WHITE CAVE -
CONTINUOUS
Beth comes to. She looks down at her hand, and sees she’s
gripping the remains of the sword she didn’t even grab. Curious.
She looks on the ground
for the frame it was resting on, but it’s nowhere to be found. In fact, it’s not even the ground she remembers. It’s all sandy and gravelly.
She looks up. Around.
She’s surrounded by walls of white stone. In front of her, is a stone altar. As she slowly stands, we follow her to take
it in, along with what rests upon it.
It’s a body. Covered in a white shroud, with only the head
visible at the far end from where Beth is.
She slowly makes her
way from the foot of the body to the head, and when she comes to that head, her
eyes widen.
BETH
Jesus!
ON THE BODY as we see
she’s not just exclaiming. The face of
the man on the altar looks like Jesus, only he’s perfectly preserved. Asleep.
And not Jesus.
Beth reaches out slowly
with her free hand. She puts her fingers
to his cheek, and…
Nothing happens.
BETH
You’re warm.
The man’s eyes fly
open. He looks at Beth with as much
surprise as she does back at him.
SPERO
Who are you?
Beth pulls her hand
away fast.
SPERO
Why did you wake me?
Spero begins to sit up.
A panicked Beth rushes
backward from the alter. Her heel hits a
loose stone, she trips and falls backward, dropping the ancient sword she held.
She lands on her butt,
but not in the cave.
INT. ST. PAUL’S
CATHEDRAL ALCOVE – CONTINUOUS
She’s back where she
started. Still alone. Taking it in as she catches her breath.
Finally, she gets on
her knees. One of them lands on the
frame the artifact was resting on. She
picks it up.
She looks for the
sword, to set it back on the frame. But
it’s nowhere to be found.
She looks all over the
floor, finally standing and looking inside the case it came out of.
But it’s gone.
END OF ACT I
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