Archive of Our Own ^beta

[ Interior.  The orphanage office.  Evening.  The room contains little more than a large armchair, an active fireplace, and disheveled Christmas ornaments.  From out of frame-right walks Rick Deckard, our aged hero, just looking for a place to sit.  He finds it, and slumps with dignity into the chair. ]

[ Presently, Deckard is joined by a gaggle of his de-facto grandkids, a dozen or so of Joe and Luv’s semi-feral children.  They gather around him in a suspiciously choreographed manner, collecting themselves about on the floor, looking up at him. Several of the kids implore Deckard to recite a Christmas story. ]

[ Deckard pretends to be grumpy, but mostly fails. ] 

Deckard: “Allright, one story.  Coming up.”

[ He looks around, then finds an old ledger on the floor, resting against the armchair.  He draws it up and opens it, into his lap.  Some of the kids crowd around to look at its pages as he reads. ]

Deckard: “Okay.  So….it was two days before Christmas.  The first ever Christmas in Blade Runner Land.  And your Aunt Rachelprime was on television…”

[ Cue wavy-line transition to a new scene… ] 

≈

[ Interior.  A well appointed TV studio kitchen.  Flat lighting, a large island up front with sinks and various tools and ingredients displayed upon it.  The usual background of appliances and cabinets.  Behind the island is our show’s hostess, Rachelprime.  She beams at the audience with friendly excitement, eager to instruct.  Today she will teach us one of her most advanced recipes.  Her assistant, Joi, stands ready wearing an apron and silly oversized chef’s hat.  There is also a guest star today, Max Miller: famous internet chef and historian of Tasting History , a really splendid Youtube cooking channel about history and food: https://www.youtube.com/@TastingHistory ] 

Rachelprime: “Hellllllooo everybody.  And welcome to Rachelprime’s Kitchen.  Today I want to share with you an especially fancy recipe for the holiday: Cheese on a Bun.   Some of you will know this as an ancient but excellent alternative to Bachelor Chow, or just starving to death.  Now, it is a little complicated and has the usual safety warnings, such as not using oven cleaner for flavor, but it’s tasty and nutritious.  SO, before you begin we–”

[ Cut to a fast-forward of the show.  It gets a bit lengthy at parts and we don’t have too much time. High-pitched voices and scan-lines on the screen as Rachelprime and friends jot about the kitchen… ]

[ Lets stop it…..about twenty minutes in: ]

[ Rachelprime now has the bun cut in half.  There is a bread-knife still in view. ]

Rachelprime: “Remember not to leave the knife INSIDE the sandwich when you serve it to people.  I know, that sounds a bit counter-intuitive, but you will get fewer ambulances at the dinner table this wa–”

[ Still not far along enough.  Fast forward some more : ] 

[ We are now thirty-five minutes into the episode. Close-up shot of the sandwich, which now has a single slice of cheddar cheese upon it. Rachelprime’s hand gingerly hovers the top half of the bun above its partner, trying to get exactly the right position.  You’d think she was disarming a bomb. Max watches intently, leaning back, hands together.  He’s not sure why he’s nervous, but Rachelprime is known for inadvertent culinary danger.  Joi is more relaxed: holograms are impervious to explosions. ] 

[ Rachelprime drops the bun’s upper half into position.  It lands just right.   Our characters sigh with relief. This time nothing has caught on fire. ] 

[ A beat. They all look over at us in the audience. ] 

[ Hard cut. ] 

≈

[ Exterior.  Night. Establishing shot of Joe and Luv’s homestead.  A long white 1980s vintage trailer-home next to a battered white picket fence and dirt road.  A yard with a large, unhealthy tree. Lights in one window of the trailer flicker, implying a television. ]

[ Cut. Interior.  Joe and Luv’s trailer.  We see the pair sitting on their couch, watching TV.  The audio of Rachelprime’s cooking show plays to them from out of frame.  Joe (seated right) is relaxed and upbeat, holding a beer and wondering if it’s too late to cheese-on-a-bun his evening.  Luv (seated left) cleans the sole of one of her sneakers with an old toothbrush.  The shoe looks immaculate, but she can still see something down there.  Her legs are held together and drive accusingly out of frame at the television.  She pauses her work and squints at the machine delivering Rachelprime’s sermon. ]

[ The audio of a pleased discussion between Max and Rachelprime continues, from out of frame. ]

Max Miller: “Y’know, I think it was originally Sargon of Akkad who noted that a piece of cheese set upon bread is most pleasing to the intestines and settles the mind. ”

[ Cut back ot the couch. Luv glares at the television resentfully. It transitions to a commercial. ] 

[ Cut back to the TV.  We see an overhead view of a man laying on his back on a set of concrete steps, alone somewhere.  He looks and is dressed a bit like Ryan Gosling in 2049, but isn’t.  He stares blankly into the ether.  It is unclear whether or not he’s alive, but blood from obscure wounds permeates his shirt. Snow gently falls on him and the soft winter-wonderland ending soundtrack from 2049 plays. Here it is: https://youtu.be/by2pM_0Sf8c?list=PLGHTvSlJY1dbxXIcm1X95SIVcKmDxru0H&t=11 ] 

[ A beat. ] 

Narrator: “This holiday season, give your family the gift of worthless but overpriced plastic crap…..from Hallmark.”

[ Snow continues to fall on the motionless body.  He looks pretty dead and alone. ]

[ The Hallmark logo appears and the soundtrack swells. ] 

[ Hard cut. End soundtrack. Back to Joe and Luv on the couch.  They look bored.   Luv has her arms folded and wears a sour expression.  Her unstimulated mind considers Rachelprime’s broadcasting career.  It unearths an epiphany. She moans it out loud, to no one in particular. ] 

Luv: “I’m a hooouuse-wife……”

[ Joe notices the prompt.  He takes a sip of liquid courage and looks over at her. ]

Joe: “Well, wanna go out and do something?”

[ She shrugs.  A beat. ]

Joe: “We could……rob a bank?”

[ She half-smirks, half-frowns, shaking her head.  Too pedestrian. ] 

Joe: “We could…..hack the city electrical grid.  Turn all the lights on the buildings downtown into the shapes of Christmas decorations.”

[ She shakes her head again.  Too pollyanna . ] 

[ Joe thinks.  He’s running out of options. ] 

Joe: “Maaayybe just a nice dinner while we’re out shopping for the family friends’ presents tomorrow?”

[ She sighs.  Nothing feels right. She needs to ruminate . ] 

[ Cut back to the TV.  Rachelprime has ushered a plate with the now completed cheese-on-a-bun under Max’s nose.  Max attempts to look pleased, but fear oozes from the cracks in his showmanship.  He now suddenly realizes why he was presented that oversized novelty check earlier: either Rachelprime is very, very, VERY, (very), nice….OR….he about to die on live television from eating her sandwich.  It looks safe, but they have a reputation, if not an actual kill count.  He could be the first. ]

[ Max makes several little hesitant gestures of oh look how good it is and I’m getting ready to eat in a minute.   He looks at us, then back at the sandwich, hoping for a distraction that cuts the segment short. ] 

[ We keep watching him.  Things start to get awkward. ]

[ He picks up the sandwich, looking back and forth at the audience.  He runs down the clock like a quarterback holding a narrow lead at the end of the fourth quarter.  Max really enjoys being alive and would prefer that that continue. ] 

[ Just eat it, Max. This is what we paid for. ] 

[ Max leans in, eyes locked on us, and takes a tiny little bite of the sandwich. ] 

[ He chews.  Rachelprime stands before him with prim, happy expectation.  Let’s watch the effects of her work on his physiology. This ought to be good. ]

[ A beat. ] 

[ After a moment, Max Miller, well liked and internationally somewhat-known internet chef……doesn’t die.  In fact, he doesn’t even wish he was dead.  The sandwich tastes…. ] 

Max: “ERmmmph……..that’s really nice.”

[ He chews and tries to think of compliments. ] 

Max: “I like that you put cheese on the bun.  You can really taste it.”

[ Rachelprime beams at the reaction.  Joi claps. Max takes another bite.  The show’s TV ratings hold fast, despite a lack of anticipated carnage. Everybody involved lives somewhat-good-enough-ever-after.  For now. ] 

≈

[ Exterior.  Los Angeles, Blade Runner Land.  Evening.  A landscape shot.  Several buildings have Flashing red and green festive lights.  Billboards advertise Christmas shopping.  One one, a geisha daintily eats a tiny piece of gingerbread from a plate of cookies.  Exaggerated gesture of yum-yum.   A beat.  Her expression freezes with tension.  She looks at the plate full of snacks intently, nibbling her lower lip.  Then she ravenously dives in, like cookie monster with an emergency stash, jamming several into her mouth at once. ] 

≈

[ Interior.  The TV studio.  Lights are darkened and the place is mostly abandoned.  Clearly the show’s recording session is over.  Rachelprime seems to be alone.  She works intently at something small and electronic before her. ]

[ Cut to a close-up shot of Joi’s emanator on the counter.  Its little access hatch is open and she has removed a small, important looking component.  Her hand proffers a duplicate part and–just as before with the sandwich–drops it carefully into place. A tiny positive chime is heard from the device.  She studiously closes the hatch. ] 

[ Cut to a wider shot of Rachelprime now.  She picks up the emanator and clicks its controls.  A Peter and the Wolf symphonic jingle plays.  Joi appears in a puff of metadata.  After a moment, the holographic partner looks around, disoriented, then sees her friend, who is pleased. Rachelprime cocks her head. ]

Joi: “Why do I feel different?”

[ Rachelprime is re-attaching the emanator to a necklace she wears. ] 

Rachelprime: “I knew it was time for your multi-annual checkup, so I acquired spare parts and ran a diagnostic on you.  Your battery was getting a bit stale, so I swapped it out for a new one.”

[ Joi is quietly stunned. ]

Joi: “Thank-you.”

[ Rachelprime sets the emanator against her chest, attaching it to her dress.  Primly, of course. ]

Rachelprime: “Joi.  You take care of me when I’m silly and don’t know how the world works and when I try hard to help but almost make things worse.  The least I can do is take care of you in return.”

[ Joi has processed a suitable reaction.  She repurposes a quote from Nabokov. ]

Joi: “The more you love someone, the stronger and stranger that affection becomes.”

[ Joi smiles in a calculated but sincere way and Rachelprime leans in for a hug.  You can’t really do this with a hologram, but Rachelprime believes otherwise.  To her, hugging isn’t about touch.  And when Rachelprime does it, Joi feels hugged.  For real. ] 

≈

[ Exterior. Early evening. The cyberpunk market area of downtown Los Angeles.  Joe and Luv sit at a table, eating fancy noodles –that is to say, garbage noodles without any garbage in them at all.  A rare delicacy in these parts.  Beneath the couple are a disorganized flock of shopping bags. They eat.  It’s pretty good.  Luv is slow and precise with the noodles.  Joe is sloppy.  He watches the holiday crowd. ] 

[ Luv stops for a moment.  She thinks.  Joe looks over and notices this.  He waits.  She squints at the middle distance and nods. ] 

Luv: “ Now I know what I really want.”

[ Joe looks at her, expectantly. She simply glances at him with confidence.  Ohhh yes.  Now she knows what she wants. ] 

≈

[ Cut.  Interior.  Joe and Luv’s trailer.  The bedroom.  Late evening.  Joe holds a bible with various awkward bookmarks protruding from it.  He smokes a cigarette.  Luv wears her alabaster business suit.  She acts breathy and melodramatic. She poses, leaning back, stretching her legs and generally showing herself off. ]

Luv: “OH, Mister Wallace.  I’ve been such a bad girl.  I accidentally sent all of our plans to the resistance!”

[ She briefly looks at Joe and gestures seriously to the bible, then lays back, waiting for her next line in the roleplay. ] 

[ Joe starts and flips through the book, pinpointing his first line.  He recites slowly and awkwardly, like a middle-schooler called-upon to read aloud in class: ]

Joe: “Uh…No one whose testicles are crushed….or whose male organ is cut off…. shall enter the assembly of God.”  

[ He checks with her for approval.  She raises an eyebrow, aroused, then turns around, bent over at the waist, presenting her bottom. ]

Luv: ( Breathily ) “Oh no!  Please Mister Wallace!  Don’t spank me! Please don't!”

[ Joe flips pages quickly, searching for the next prescribed bit. When he finds it, he reads, alternating spanks with verse: ] 

Joe: “And, uh, seeing a fig tree…”  

[ He spanks.  She yelps with horny dramatism ]   

Joe: “..by the road, Uh…He came to it and found nothing on it but leaves”  

[ Spank.  Yelp. ]  

Joe: “...and said to it, ‘Let no fruit grow on you ever again.’  “ 

[ Spank, louder moaning-yelp. ]  

Joe: “...Immediately, uh… the fig tree withered away.” 

[ Spank.  Yelp. ] 

[ Cut to the outside of the trailer. Muffled sound overlap of Joe’s spanking and Luv’s responses.  Hundreds of children sit on the lawn, staring with keen interest at their parents’ poorly soundproofed box.  These children spend their days endlessly trying to make playtime in a dystopian wasteland seem interesting.  Mom and Dad’s fun noises in the trailer are the most exciting thing to happen all week. ]

≈

[ Cut.  Interior.  The orphanage office.  Grandpa deckard is reading to the grandkids. Several look at him concernedly. ]

Skeptical Kid: “Grandpa, is this scene appropriate for young children of our age?”

[ Deckard halfway closes the book, miffed at the interruption. He looks around at his audience. ] 

Deckard: “Well, let me ask all of you this:  did you kids grow up in this terrible orphanage?”

[ They make little depressed noises, acceding that, yes indeed, they grew up here. ] 

Deckard: “And were you abused and made to extract toxic metals from electronic scrap for Mister Cotton?”

[ They make the same yeah-we-guess depressed noises as before. ] 

Noisy kid: ( Interrupting the others ) “I got low-grade mesothelioma from it!”

[ Deckard points to the noisy kid one way and nods at the skeptical kid the other. See? ]

Deckard: “And did all of that trauma damage your childhood innocence, and push you into a premature state of maladjusted pre-adulthood?”

[ The kids moan and nod.  They know the drill now.  Presently, a little girl at Deckard’s shoulder looks down at the storybook grandpa has been reading from.  It’s just a ledger.  A list of names and personal details.  Nothing in there about Christmas or Blade Runner Land or spanking or anything discussed so far at all. ] 

Deckard: “Right.  Well in that case, you’re all old enough to hear a Christmas story.”

[ He re-opens the book haughtily and continues ‘reading’. ] 

Deckard: “So.  Your parents were having sex…”

≈

[ Cut.  Back to the interior of the trailer.  It is dark now.  We look up at Luv in nothing but her bra as she rides her partner, cowgirl-style. ]

[ Correction: Luv does not merely ride .  She seems to be fighting a wild animal below her with a furious cartoonish intensity.  As if she means to conquer it.  To extract every drop of its purity and essence. Her face grimaces and bares teeth, voice enunciating little more than spastic, wanton growls and inaudible phonemes.  Anyone else performing coitus this way would be advised to seek out a doctor. ] 

[ Cut to a tight shot of Joe’s face as he just lays there on the mattress.  He stares with a kind of relaxed blankless as his body is repeatedly pounced-upon and used.  We hear the wife’s angry Luv-making noises from just out of shot.  His eyes move and his face twitches at times, but he shows no general reaction.  Joe, as per usual, looks like he’s waiting at the spinner dealership for an oil change to complete. ] 

[ Cut back outside to the lawn.  Joe and Luv’s kids listen to their parents’ happy ruckus.  The kids are genuinely engaged now.  Excited.  Entertained . They watch the trailer wobble slightly, muffled athletic sounds coming from it.  Presently, the noises crescendo, a suppressed wail marking climax. ]

[ The trailer falls into a placid silence. The symphony ends. ] 

[ A beat. ] 

[ Suddenly the children leap up.  They cheer and applaud.  What a great show tonight has been. They can’t wait for the next one. ] 

[ Cut back to the bedroom.  Sound overlap of the children’s acclaim. We look down at the mattress to a close two-shot of the couple as Luv collapses on her back next to Joe.  He makes no expression, but stiffly moves an arm, placing a cigarette in his mouth.  With the other he just as stiffly presents a lighter to the smoke and ignites it.  He stares at the ceiling. ]

Joe: “Angel.  That was amazing.”

[ Luv merely gazes at him, making exhausted little dreamy sexual noises. She cares not for this moment of indignity.  For Christmas is a spectacular time of year. ] 

≈

[ Exterior.  Sapper’s farm.  Day.  Grey skies.  Sapper’s dead tree is decorated with Christmas lights.  Some of the bulbs actually work.  Nearby sits a police spinner.  Joe walks to the house and enters. ] 

[ Cut.  Interior, Sapper Morton’s house.  We view the main entrance from the kitchen.  Sapper enters the vestibule, whistling Good King Wenceslas.   He sets his boots to one side, then ambles towards us and the sink. ]

Joe: ( From offscreen ) “Hey Sapp.”

[ Pan right and we now have a two-shot of Sapper (left) and Joe (right). ] 

Sapper: “Hey Joe.  Big day off tomorrow, huh?  Soon as I reset at midnight, I got plans.”

Joe: “You’re coming over for dinner tomorrow, right?” 

Sapper: “Oh you bet.  Busy day.  So…..”

[ Sapper readies himself for the usual fight scene. He removes his glasses and prompts it with his usual line: ] 

Sapper: “...uninvited visitors.”

Joe: “Hm?  Nono….you’re definitely invit–oh….I see what you did there.”

[ Joe smirks and points to his work-husband. The last day before some time off always feels good. ]

Sapper: “Oh.  Careful now–that’s your emote for the week.”

[ Joe grumbles.  Did the wife have to tell everybody about that?  He rises to a combat stance. ] 

[ They fight as always.  Sapper throws mighty punches at his opponent, who dodges them with swift robotic movement.  The roof almost gives way this time as they hurtle through a supporting wall and load-bearing elements give way.  They knock the Christmas tree over and almost become tangled in its lights.  Joe throat-punches Sapper and checks his eye with a scanner.  He stands, then steps back, breathing heavily. ]

Joe: “Don’t get up, Sapp.  Good effort today.”

[ Sapper ignores this order, as always.  It’s his favorite part.  He gets up to one knee.  Joe raises his pistol. ] 

Sapper: “You’re only being a GRINCH… ..because you’ve never seen….a Christmas miracle.”

[ A beat. Joe is impressed with the great bit of improv. ] 

Joe: “Happy Hanukkah.”

[ Blam. ]

≈

[ Interior.  The baseline testing and janitorial supplies closet.  White tile. Christmas decorations.  Mop and bucket in one corner.  A friendly cluster of red and green sensors mounted on the wall.   Opposite the sensors is Joe, who sits on a stool facing them. He speaks to the sensors, monotonously, reciting his baseline. ] 

Joe: “Jingle Bells tinkle-tink, Jingle Bells tinkle-tink, within one wrapped present.”

Joe: “And splendidly distinct in the dark, a tall green Christmas tree swayed.”

[ Loud electronic squawking. A high-pitched screeeeEEEeee’ing sound behind it. ] 

Santa: ( Speaking through the sensor device ) “Elves!”

Joe: “Elves.”

Santa: “Do you need help with elocution?  Elves.”

Joe: “Elves.”

Santa: “Do you think Batman smells? Elves.”

Joe: “Elves.”

Santa.: “Do you like ringing bells?  Elves.”

Joe: “Tinkle-tink.”

Santa: “When you’re not performing your duties, do you wonder what’s in the box?  Elves.”

Joe: “Tinkle-tink.”

Santa: “What’s it like to spend holidays with someone you love?  Tinkle-tink.”

Joe: “Tinkle-tink.”

Santa: “What’s it like to hold your child in your arms?  Tinkle-tink.”

[ A pause. The high pitched reeEEee’ing continues. Joe nods. ] 

Joe: “....pretty good, actually.”

Santa: “Do you think there’s a part of you that’s missin….aww…there’s nothing missing from you these days.  Ho ho.”

[ The high-pitched noise suddenly fades.  It stops. ]

[ A beat. Joe stares. ]

Joe: ( Tense ) “Well…..was I a good boy this year?”

[ A beat. ] 

Santa: “HO HO HO HO HO… .MERRY CHRISTMAS .”

[ Joe breathes a visible sigh of relief.  That felt like a close one. ] 

≈

[ Cut.  Joshi’s office.  Establishing shots: snow outside the window, wall decorations, a small tree on her desk, ornamented with mickeys of liquor.  Cut to a wide shot.  Joe enters and stands near the door.  Cut again to a wide two-shot of the pair. ]

Joe: “You wanted to see me, Madam?”

Joshi: “Hey skinjob.  Merry Christmas.  Um….yeah, this wasn’t my idea, but I got orders from higher up.  You’re not getting paid this week.”

[ A beat. ] 

Joe: “What?”

Joshi: “Yeah, something about creating dramatic tension in the story.  Hasn’t been very much so far.”

Joshi: “This way, y’see, you can’t get the kids Christmas presents, and it’s sad.”

[ Joe stares at her.  He makes a subtle but fervent expression that doesn’t quite count as an emote. A beat. ]

Joshi: “Oh will you stop looking at me like that?  Ya fucking crybaby.  Not my idea.”

[ A beat. ] 

Joshi: “You’ll get paid the money next month.  When it’s useless.  And the kids are all sad and hate you.”

[ She sips whiskey. It is 9:53 AM on a workday. ] 

[ Joe turns and slowly begins trudging out of the office.  He opens the door, then turns to look back at Joshi.  She just stares at him, drinking.  He turns again and mopes through the door, closing it slowly behind him. Joshi watches. ] 

[ Suddenly the door opens again and Joe pops his head back in, looking more upbeat. ]

Joe: “You’re coming to Christmas dinner, right?”

Joshi: “Oh yeah.  Wouldn’t miss it.  Seeya then, skinjob.”

[ Joe closes the door behind him again, slowly. Sad, once more.  It clicks shut. ]

≈

[ Interior.  The homestead trailer.  View of Luv sitting at the kitchen table, enthusing over government forms.  She wears non-prescription eyeglasses on a chain and hums cheerily to herself, preparing the family’s tax returns. It has been an especially good 24 hours. ]

[ Cut.  Exterior of the trailer. Tight view mimicking our shot from last episode where Luv moped home, exhausted.  We see the kitchen window and the trailer door.  From out of the frame-right, Joe shuffles into view, his jacket under one arm, lunchbox in the other. He frumps up the steps and enters. ] 

[ Cut back to the interior view of Luv, accosted by paperwork.  She hums and writes something. Cut to a close-up of the form. ]

Legal Name: Joe
Occupation: Blade Runner
Spousal Dependant’s Legal Name: Luv
Spousal Dependant’s Occupation: “LISTEN UP WALLACE.  IF YOU COME AFTER ME I WILL FU-”

[ Cut to luv, writing and muttering out loud: ]

Luv: ( Slowly ) “..ucking…..destroooory……..you.”

[ She dots the period cutely and makes a little popping noise with her lips.  Luv has discovered an enjoyment of tax returns.  For they too are hateful, adversarial, and perfectionist. She looks up at Joe, who has just entered. Cut to a two-shot of the pair. ]

Luv:  “Hi Schnookums.  What’s the matter?”

[ Joe looks dourly at the floor. No response.  Luv stands and puts her arms on his shoulders, watching his face. ]

Luv: ( Softly ) “Allright, let's get this part out of the way.  Whatever it is, we’ll handle it together.”

[ A beat. ] 

Luv: ( Imitating herself with an exaggerated feminine lilt ) “What’s the matter?”

Luv: ( Imitating Joe in an exaggerated deep voice ) “Nothing.”

Luv: ( Imitating herself, again ) “No.  Not nothing.”

[ Next she gestures to her husband, prompting a response. ]

[ Joe gathers himself to deliver terrible news.  He seems to swallow and his eyes begin to redden.  His cheeks puff. Luv sees this and realizes urgently that he has already emoted earlier this week. She looks shocked. They have medical direction about this: if Joe emotes more than once per week his head will explode. ]

[ Cut to an image in Luv’s mind.  She sits formally at the head of a quiet table at Christmas dinner.  The other seats are occupied by some of her children.  To her immediate left is Joe’s decapitated body.  The corpse is well dressed, but this fails to offset a gruesome red stump at the top of his neck.  Cutlery clinks softly against plates as the children eat.  Luv watches them carefully for traumatized reactions.  Presently, Joe’s body begins to slide out of its seat.  She grabs at it but it starts to flop akwardl– ] 

[ Cut back to the trailer.  Luv is adamant that he shut down his reaction.  Right fucking now .  She is gesturing with one hand and gripping his shoulder with the other. She slaps him gently. ] 

Luv: “Nonono….sweetie….nooo….no emoting.  Stop it…..stooop.”

[ He catches himself just in time.  He does not emote all the way, so it doesn’t count.  His head does not explode. Thankfully. ]

[ A pause.  She examines him carefully as he calms. He returns to the usual poker-face.  Barely. ]

Luv: “Okay.  Don’t have to tell me now.  Go lay down and I’ll get you something nice.  Then you can tell me later.  In little manageable bits.  Alright?”

[ Joe nods sadly, like a mopey kid after a bad day at school.  He shuffles down the trailer to the bedroom. ] 

≈

[ Interior.  Wallace headquarters.  Wide shot of a luxurious fireplace with sumptuous furniture.  Two armchairs by sit by the fire, and in them are Wallace Corp’s interim CEO Gilbert Gottfried and his assistant Stan.  Stan is a strange bald human-ish creature, previously a file clerk in the records department.  Gottfried wears a bright red suit jacket and christmas tie sprinkled with flashing LEDs.  Between them, near the fireplace, is a simple aluminum pole held aloft on a Christmas tree stand.  The two sip bandy and attempt to smoke cigars, since it fits the scene.  Gottfried lazes back in the chair but Stan leans forward, knees together. ]

Stan: “This Festivus thing–it’s not something I know about where I come from.”

GG: “Yeah, oh, you people from outer space.  You should get out more often.  There’s a whole world out there to discover.”

Stan: “I’m from Los Angeles, actually.  Not outer space.”

GG: “Wellll…that’s….kind of the same thing.  When you think about it.  At least in my time it was.”

Stan: “Really?”

[ Gottfried nods and tries to puff on the cigar.  LA basically was outer space back in the day. ]

GG: “So.  Now we got the pole out.  We had dinner. Next comes the AIRING OF THE GRIEVANCES.  You go first.”

[ Stan stares, uncertain. ]

GG: “Go on.  Just shout ‘em out.  What d’ya hate ?  WHO do you ya hate?  How’ve you been, y'know…transgressed upon this year?”

Stan: “Mmm..nobody?  Maybe the replicant resistance.  But if it weren’t for them I probably wouldn't have this nice new job as your ass–”

GG: “Ok, look.  I’ll go first.  Why the hell are you always wearing that thing?  It’s always the same outfit.  See, lookit me–I changed my clothes.  What’s with the leather getup?”

[ Stan looks at his ensemble: a kind of leather onesie with a zipper down the front. ]

Stan: “What, this?  I’m going clubbing later.”

GG: “You’re always going clubbing later? Cause you’re always wearing the same thing.”

[ Stan nods. He is, indeed, always going clubbing later. ] 

GG: “Ok.  Try again.  Here, try saying this: I got a lotta problems with you people, and now you're going to hear about it! ”

[ A beat. ]

Stan: “But I don’t….”

[ Gottfried sighs.  The kid just isn’t quite getting it. ]

Stan: “Ohhh.  I do rather find it challenging to deal with that Joshi woman.  You know, one time she called me a skinjob?  But I’m not .”

GG: “Mrmm..y’know, people think you are.  Because you do look, y’know, just a tiny little itty-bit weird as hell.  But you’re not a replicant.  MMrm.  It’s a Festivus miracle.  Very nice.”

[ Gottfried chuckles.  Stan thinks about this pensively for a moment, contemplating the poorly defined thick milkiness of human existence. Gottfried stands, stretching.  Perhaps he’s about to make thoughtful speech or simply a yuletide toast. But, instead, He assumes an aggressive wrestling posture. ] 

GG: “ALLRIGHT. That’s enough grievances.  NOW IT'S TIME FOR THE FEATS OF STRENGTH.”

[ Stan freezes, like a deer in headlights that has suddenly been called upon to headline a WWE cage match. ] 

≈

[ Interior.  The homestead trailer. Late afternoon. A two-shot of Joe and Luv.  Joe sits on the bed, expressionless but looking sick.  Luv squats close, coaching him. He has told her about the payday issues, in little manageable bits. ]

Luv: “Okay, and then she drank whiskey again.  Because she’s a souse.”

[ He nods. Luv makes a note to crush that glass into Joshi’s hand again next opportunity. ] 

Joe: “And that’s it.  There’s.  There’s no money.”

Luv: “Next month.”

[ He nods. But what good will next month do when the kids need presents now? ]

[ A beat. She holds his hands. ]

Luv: “It’s alright.  We can get the kids little boxes of dirt tomorrow.  Like we do for their birthdays.  They love that.”

[ He shrugs.  It’s Christmas.  Kids are supposed to get a BIG present.  Not excuses.  She minimizes. ]

Luv: “It’s only the first Christmas here.  There’s no benchmark for them to compare against.  We’ll make it up to them next year.  And they loved the smut we did earlier.  It’s alright.  We love them and they know it.  They’re happy.  Don’t get upset.”

[ He nods.  He is upset.  She hugs him. ] 

≈

[ Cut.  Homestead trailer, the kitchen.  Christmas eve. It is dark now.  Joe leans against the counter, looking out the window.  He is despondent.  He glances down the hall to see Luv reposed in their bed.  She talks in her sleep, mumbling the usual cute little threats and remarks to imagined adversaries.  Her arm moves slightly.  Must be another dream about stabbing.  Those are her favorite. ]

[ Cut to a shot over Joe’s shoulder as he surveys his two-hundred-odd adopted children.  They sleep on the lawn, many curled up and piled together affectionately.  The weather, as usual, is perfect for this.  The family’s tree twenty yards away is hung with bright decorations–lights placed by dad and everything else handmade by the kids.  They warm the yard and the children sleeping placidly upon it. ]

[ They also illuminate something else.  Something under the tree. ]

[ A beat. ] 

[ It moves.  Just a little.  Stealthily.  Joe stiffens and glares at the intruder. ] 

[ A beat. ]

[ It moves again. Cut to a shot of the window from outside.  We see Joe–deadly serious–step out of view and towards the trailer door. ] 

[ A pause. ] 

[ Cut to a wide shot of…Santa Claus–or a facsimile, piling up tiny presents beneath the tree. ]

[ Cut again to a view from up in the tree’s canopy, looking down from over Cotton’s shoulder as he hangs there, silently. Cotton, former orphanage operator and child abuser, has spent years hanging this way.  He’s seen a lot down there, but not Santa Claus. ]

[ Cut to a tight shot of Cotton from underneath.  He wears an expression of incredulity.  What the fuck is going on now? Maybe if he’s been a good boy Santa will cut him down. ]

[ Cut back to a tight shot of Santa, carefully removing presents from his sack an– ]

[ Sound of a gun cocking: click .  Santa looks up. ]

[ Cut to a wider angle.  We now see Joe and Santa in a two-shot.  Joe aims a gun at the intruder’s head. ]

[ A beat. ] 

Santa: ( Whispering ) “I don’t think blaster guns make a clicking noise like that.”

[ A beat. ] 

Joe: “I can have it make a different sound.  It’s louder.  Want to hear it?”

[ Santa pulls down his fake beard.  It’s Sapper .  Joe deflates from the suddenly released tension. ] 

Joe: ( Whispering ) “Jesus, Sapp.  You know how close I came to clocking yo–wait….I already killed you today.  What’s going on?”

[ Sapper points to the watch on his wrist. ] 

Sapper: “It’s after midnight.  I reset.”

[ Joe covers his mouth, preventing an emote of surprise.  Then he joins in with Santa-Sapper, piling up gifts at the tree’s root structure.  Each has a little tag with a child’s name.  At times they glance over at the presents’ unconscious recipients. Nobody in Blade Runner Land has seen happy children on Christmas morning.  Yet. ]

[ The men stand back when finished, viewing their work.  A picturesque stack of joyous potential-energy.  Sapper remembers something. He looks around at the hundreds of sleeping bodies, then at Joe. ]

Sapper: ( Whispering ) “Which one’s been the very best?”

Joe: ( Whispering ) “Why?” 

[ Saper reaches into the bushes and quietly drags out a HUGE present.  ]

Sapper: “Barbie dreamhouse.  For the kid who’s been the best all year.  Who’s it go to?”

[ Joe stops and thinks.  He looks around.  They’ve all been so good.  But then again…Barbie dreamhouse. ] 

[ A beat. ] 

[ Joe picks up the enormous box.  He begins walking away, out of the frame-left, keeping the present for himself. ]

Joe: ( Whispering ) “I’m the best one.”

[ Santa-Sapper cannot disagree. ] 

≈

[ Exterior.  The homestead.  Early morning.  Wide shot of the trailer.  Joe and Luv sit upon concrete steps at the doorway, holding coffee.  Joe looks tired, but both are in good spirits.  Slowly, the children awake in little pieces, like a puzzle languidly assembling itself.  This is the first ever Christmas morning in Blade Runner Land.  Children here don’t yet understand their solemn duty to go nuts, unwrapping presents. ]

[ Cut. A close shot of the rock-hugging kid who sleeps nearest to the door.  He stands in the foreground yawning and blinking at his parents in the background.  Dad looks him in the eye and nods over yonder, to the tree. The kid turns and jogs out of frame-right to investigate. ]

[ Cut to a wide shot of the tree’s base.  Children accumulate and stare at the bizarre cluster of two-hundred or so colorful things.  One of the smallest goes to put her hand on a present, but is stopped by the oldest–these objects could be anything, and strange things are dangerous.  Hard lessons have taught that.  He waves everybody else back, then gets down on all fours to investigate. ]

[ Cut to a close-up of the presents.  Older kid’s hand reaches in and turns one of the labels.  It reads: ] 

Kid with the funny limp

[ He checks another: ]

Cute red-headed girl who likes to throw rocks

[ He turns and sees the girl in question.  He examines the gift, then makes a command decision. ]

[ Cut to a two-shot of Older Kid with his redheaded sister.  He hands her the present. She stares at it, blankly.  Tentatively, she pulls the ribbon from its box.  It falls away.  The wrapping paper loosens.  Red begins digging into the package, looking for substance.  She opens it and finds a…..a white rock?  People have gathered around her to stare at this strange object. It is perplexing but inoffensive.] 

[ Cut to a wide shot of the lawn a few minutes later.  Everybody has opened their presents and wanders around, each interpreting their strange white rock’s meaning for themselves.  One pretends it’s a spinner flying along.  Red throws hers at Cotton over and over.  A third passes by Mommy and Daddy, putting the rock in his mouth.  He stops and makes a face.  It tastes terrible.  He looks to his parents for guidance.  Mommy is smirking.  Daddy isn’t, but he would if he could. ]

Joe: “It’s soap.  Don’t eat it.  We’ll show you what it’s for later.”

[ Kid-that-eats-soap wanders off.  Joe puts his arm around Luv.  She scooches closer to him. ]

≈

[ Exterior. The homestead.  Christmas Day.  Afternoon.  Smoke gently rises from an exhaust in the trailer’s roof.  Excited adult voices can be heard from within, bickering. ]

[ Cut to the trailer interior.  Bickering is louder now.  Luv, Joe, and Joi occupy the kitchen.  Rachelprime sits nearby, tied to a chair for everyone’s safety.  Deckard and his drinking buddy Stellan relax on the couch, ignoring a cowboy film on TV.  The kitchen is more entertaining. Joe hoists an enormous protein roast into a pan–it seems to be half raw and half-burned. People yell over top each other: ]

Joe: “Ok, I’m LIFTING it, allright, but that’s not going to fix the wa–”

Rachelprime: “Excuse me, but I would like to help. This is something I’m actually experien– ”  

Luv: “Not like THAT.  Lift it the other way.”

Rachelprime: “And I’ve never actually killed anybody with food before so why did you tie me–

Joe: “Which other way, Luv?  Is there a new definition of ‘up’ that I didn’t get the memo ab–”

Joi: “Maybe we could all just slow down and–”

Luv: ( YELLING )  “THE PRODUCT WILL BE QUIET OR IT WILL BE TURNED OFF. ”

[ Joe loses grip on the slippery roast and it slams heavily into the pan again.  He swears. Rachelprime makes a growl-y unhappy expression at Luv for her harshness to Joi. ]

[ Cut to Deckard and Stellan on the couch.  Sound overlap of the argument.  They watch with amusement teetering on the edge of concern.  Society hasn’t fallen off the edge yet, so they continue to bystand. ]

Deckard: ( To Stellan ) “Jesus, I know this is our first time with this ‘Christmas’ thing, but can you imagine it being like this every year?”

[ Stellan inhales sharply through his teeth.  He’s from real life and knows all about Christmas.  He answers diplomatically. ]

Stellan: “It, ah….it doesn’t always go to plan.  There are hiccups, sometimes.  Depending.”

[ Deckard looks at him skeptically.  Family arguments on the holiday ?  Ridiculous.  He’s glad no one outside their social group can see this.  What would they think. ] 

≈

[ Exterior.  The little dirt path next to the homestead.  We see a wide shot of the little rise approaching the trailer and its picket fence.  Over it now, carefully, inching forward, is a woman-sized clear plastic bubble.  Its occupant wears a small pack and wobbles her way uncertainly over the uneven ground.  It has taken a good portion of the day to hike out here from Stelline Laboratories, where she would otherwise be imprisoned by an autoimmune disease and everybody just shut up I’m doing the best I can to include her without breaking canon.  Just go with it. It’s Christmas.  We’re all in hell. ]

[ Anna Stelline’s bubble finally apexes the diminutive but sharp little hill. She wobbles at the top, considering next steps.  It’s only her second attempt at venturing from the lab, and last time there were issues. This time she’s more care– oh.. ] 

[ Her ball slides in the dirt and she tumbles down the hill, making cute little aggravated noises. ]

[ Cut.  A wide shot of the picket fence and gate.  Anna’s ball rolls into view and stops in the middle of the shot.  Both girl and ball are uninjured.  A Festivus miracle, you might say. A beat. ] 

[ Cut away and back to a shot of Anna looking at the pointy fence-pickets and narrow gate.  How to get through this now?  The bubble is strong, but why chance it?  Joe steps into the shot from frame-left and simply hoists the junky fence out of Anna’s way.  The sounds of a spinner alighting are heard from out of shot. Anna smiles and greets Joe, rolling into the yard. Cut to an overhead shot of children approaching their alien visitor with curiosity. ]

[ Cut to a view over Joe’s shoulder as he replaces the fence.  His boss, Lieutenant Joshi, approaches from across the road, her spinner parked on the rise behind her. She carries a bottle of wine found in the police evidence locker yesterday.  It’s been aging there for several years.  The locker is dark and cool like a cellar, so that probably improved it.  Joe holds the gate open for her. Cursory greetings.  Following shot as she struts over to the trailer door.  The shot wanders and is distracted off to the left as Joshi enters.  Now we see Anna in her bubble talking to a gaggle of curious children. Cut to a tight shot of Anna with the kids. ] 

Anna: “Yes, Christmas is new for all of us.  We haven’t been keeping it a secret from you.  I do like it so far, though.”

[ The children show off her their new bars of soap to her, now worn in after a parentally instructed wash and scrub this afternoon. Anna tries to tell them how the chemistry of soap and detergents.  Most are a bit young for lessons on solubility and sub-atomic theory, but they listen without comprehension, for as long as kids can muster.  They start to fidget and interrupt, but Anna is nothing if not patient. ]

[ Cut to the trailer interior.  Wide shot, facing down its length.  Joshi steps in, holding the bottle before her.  She is confronted by a familiar woman with bangs and a ponytail.  Stressful memories swoop into Joshi’s mind like a curtain, blocking all else.  The bangs and ponytail glare at her, guarding the hallway.  A moment of tension. ]

Luv: “Wine.  How considerate.  Let me take that from you.”

[ Luv’s claw clasps itself over Joshi’s hand on the bottle.  Their eyes lock.  Joshi instinctively tenses, stoically.  Pressure mounts. Suddenly, a third hand intervenes on the bottle from out of shot. ] 

Joe: “Oh hey, wine.  That’s so considerate.  Thank-you, Madam.  Let me take that.  Angel, let me show the boss to her seat, will you?”

[ Luv steps tersely to one side, keeping her eye on Joshi.  She smiles insincerely and reaches for the light switch.  Joe continues his nervous sing-song tone, making Joshi comfortable.  She remarks politely about the delicious smell of impending dinner.  Luv flips the lights on and off a few times, perhaps absent-mindedly. This is deliberately ignored by the others. ] 

[ Cut back to the yard.  Wide shot: Anna and some kids in the left of frame.  Lumbering into view from behind is a very small mountain, wearing tiny spectacles and its best coveralls.  Sapper Morton waves to the kids, and nods to the strange lady in the bubble.  She waves back, politely.  One of those awkward but amicable moments at family gatherings where unfamiliar folk have just met. ]

≈

[ Interior.  The trailer.  Evening.  Finally, the day’s preparations apex.  The scene is set.  Christmas dinner lies before the extended family, now mostly assembled at a lengthy impromptu table.  The cyberpunk buffet is impressive.  An enormous and largely edible protein roast.  Buckets of fancy noodles.  Stacks of golden and silver foil food packets.  Pilfered synthetic wine stolen from a police station.  Nearly everyone present. ]

[ Near the table’s head are the bedroom’s privacy curtains.  They part and between them slips Luv, now dressed in a formal white suit, her hair in a tight updo.  She thwacks the curtains closed behind her and assumes a  contrived posture, posing momentarily.  Luv reads the room.  Joe beams, insofar as he dares.  He wears the nicest of his regular clothes–the ones without stains or bullet-holes.  Anna’s hologram makes an approving sound.  Joshi wisely says nothing.  Deckard cares not for superficialities–he’s polite but hungry.  Joi avoids eye contact.  Rachelprime as always wears her own suit and doesn’t react to the new wardrobe. Sapper nods amicably, schmoozing with the new social group.  Stellan looks around for a moment, confused, then takes a cue from the others.  He nods at Luv and remarks politely. ]

Stellan: “Oh.  Very nice.”

[ Luv nods appreciatively to Stellan and Sapper.  She sits to Joe’s left.  ] 

[ Cut to the kid’s ‘table’ outside.  Many hold cutlery, or cutlery-like objects, or just their new soapy friends.  Eager faces.  Anna sits among them in her bubble, wearing VR goggles so she can appear by the table inside.  She sets an example for the children–her Tofurky sandwich and snacks wait politely on standby next to her, on a napkin. ]

[ Cut back to the dining room.  Joe rises and begins cutting the roast.  Pieces are sliced onto plates and passed down the line and out the door to hungry children on the lawn.  The table’s occupants begin filling their own plates with appetizers. A pre-dinner conversation evolves. ]  

Rachelprime: “Luv, when you and Joe get married?”

[ Joe looks up from the roast and looks briefly at Luv, who handles this one, with robotic poise. ] 

Luv: “We just decided one day.  No formality could embody how we feel for each other.”

Deckard: “You mean, no wedding event would be up to your standards.”

[ A beat.  Grandpa Deckard knows bullshit when he smells it. ] 

Luv: “Standards are useful.  An inadequate ceremony would not be.”

Deckard: “You thought about it.  There’s no way you didn’t.”

Luv: “Perhaps one day.”

[ Deckard nods.  He also knows what really matters in a marriage and what doesn’t. ]

Anna: “Did you move in here right away?  It’s lovely.”

[ Anna’s hologram glitches slightly as a plate is handed through her to Deckard.  He passes it to the next grandkid at the door.  Anna and her father share a wry look over this. ] 

Luv: “We moved in beforehand. It was a process.”

Joe: “Got the trailer off a collector.  Vintage item in perfect condition.  Took some doing to convince him.  But it was worth it.”

[ Luv enjoys this moment, the family admiring their home, their idyllic lifestyle, her place at its helm.  It shows slightly. ]

Stellan: “No idea you had so many children.  You two have obviously kept busy.”

Luv: “Adoption.  It was the best choice.”

Stellan: “Yeah, but….how many…. two hundred little ones out there?”

Joe: “Y’know, I think a little decision paralysis may have come into pla–”

Luv: “It was the best option.  Joe makes a wonderful father.”

Joshi: ( To Joe ) “How does she do as a mother?”

Joe: “Oh….she’s….”

[ Luv turns her gaze placidly to the husband.  Supervising his response. ] 

Joe: “Perfect.”

[ Luv nods. Joshi is skeptical of a murdering skinjob just raising kids like it was normal. But as a dinner guest, she shuts up. ]

[ Cut.  A view of the lawn–the kids’ table for the evening.  Anna sits among them, snacking on medically approved delicacies from her pack.  Children ask her obnoxious direct questions, in the manner of kids everywhere.  Why is she in that bubble?  Because germs can make her sick.   Will you die if you come out of it?  She could get very sick, so she wouldn’t leave it.   How do you go to the bathroom in there?  That’s a long story.  It caused trouble on another trip, but that’s been fixed now.  Why aren’t you eating with the grown-ups?  Because she can’t fit through the door.  And your company is very pleasant anyway, so why would she want to?   They seem to accept these responses.  One little boy pokes and nudges the high-tech enclosure.  Another just beams at her, developing a little crush. ] 

[ Cut back to the grown-up table.  Anna’s hologram looks this way and that, quietly responding to questions from child interrogators.  The group is now all served and eating.  Anna’s conversation provides a serendipitous floor-show. They watch. ]

Joshi: “They’re so unfiltered at that age.”

Sapper: “Unpretentious.  You know who they really are after five minutes.”

Luv: ( Looking at Sapper )  “They enjoyed their presents from Santa.  It took some instruction, but they’ve benefitted.”

Joe: “Yeah, even the ones who thought it was food.  They’re getting smarter all the time.  Thanks again.”

[ Sapper looks pleased and leans over his shoulder to check out the kids through the window. Not an unhappy face in sight.  Maybe some books next year. When he turns back Sapper sees Luv gazing at him.  She glances deliberately to a far corner of the trailer, where a sizable pink plastic house resides.  Joe was playing with it earlier when he thought the wife wasn’t around.  She gazes back at Sapper.  After a moment, he just subtly shrugs, hoping Joe isn’t in trouble.  Her expression holds. ] 

Stellan: ( To Joi ) “So, are you off in a bubble someplace else, too?  You’re a hologram like Anna.”

Joi: “I’m just a hologram.  I live–”

[ Joi tries to point at Rachelprime’s necklace, but its owner gestures her to stop and intervenes. ]

Rachelprime: “Joi is my best friend and bosom companion.  She is a person.  And she doesn’t need a bubble.  She just happens to be an A.I..  That’s all.”

[ Stellan nods as best he can. ] 

Rachelprime: “In fact, I would like to announce that Joi and I have been trying to have sex.”

[ Sapper, Stellan and Anna’s attention is captured by this.  Deckard continues eating–he always halfway ignores Rachelprime, for her own good. ]

Rachelprime: “And while we haven’t been able to get all the way there yet because I pine for my Deckie too much near climax—”

[ Deckard coughs and almost chokes, looking and wishing to be elsewhere. ]

Rachelprime: “...well we haven’t managed to finish yet.  But.  We do enjoy trying.”

[ Joi pats Rachelprime’s hand. ] 

Joi: “Yes we do, babysweet.”

[ Deckard washes something down with a sip of wine. His eyes water. Luv laces her fingers and observes, quietly judging the scene. Stellan and Sapper look to each other, nodding, failing to compose a response.  ]

Anna: “That was a very forthright and honest accounting, Rachel.  I’ve always liked you two.”

[ An uncomfortable pause. Somebody should say something. ] 

Joe: “ Presents .”

[ Thanks, Joe. ]

[ Luv stands as if on cue and passes through into the curtained bedroom. She hands a gift wrapped box to Joe. He reads the label and stands, then goes over to Deckard, hugging him quickly. ]

Joe:  “Rick.  Merry Christmas.”

[ Before the father-figure can become self-conscious, Luv proffers another gift to Joe. ]

Joe:  “Uh, Madam.  For you.”

Joshi: “Oh, thank-you.”

[ She unwraps the box and discovers a new bottle of whiskey. ]

Joshi: “It’s my favorite.”

[ Luv meanwhile slides another box across the table, in front of Anna.  She can’t open it but Stellan reads the room and helps, pulling the lid off.  She has been gifted a pair of comfy designer sneakers, svelte and flattering like Luv’s, if not actually custom-made. Anna and her benefactor nod appreciatively to each other.  The shoes will have to be medically vetted and sanitized before she can actually handle them, but she feels included.  ]

Anna: “Thank-you, Luv.  These will be useful.”

[ Deckard has opened his gift and holds it up.  It is a gray t-shirt, similar to his old favorite but with cyberpunk accents at the shoulders.  It looks expensive and stylish.  Stellan reads his buddy’s face. ]

Stellan: ( Grinning smugly ) “You’ll have to wear that to Christmas again next year.  To show them how much you appreciate it.”

[ Luv laces her fingers once more, inscrutable, betraying nothing. ] 

Luv: “Everybody would enjoy it.”

Deckard: “Thank-you.”

[ Next up is Rachelprime.  Joe hands her a present.  Luv ducks back into the bedroom. Rachelprime squeals with excitement and unwraps, pulling out a long pretty scarf, decorated with flames. She fondles and admires the new wardrobe. Its fabric is a little rough. Luv re-appears at Joe’s shoulder. ] 

Luv: “Nomex.  Very fashionable.”

[ Rachelprime grins and gives the pair a thumbs-up, having just learned the gesture recently. ] 

[ Joe turns to the wife. We see her holding the largest gift of all so far. She taps it against his shoulder. ] 

Joe: “For me?”

[ He makes room on the table and opens his gift.  It is a new suit, much like his favorite, but with a dark, dark, brown dress shirt and black tie.  The shirt is just off-black enough to make the necktie pop, but no more. The coat’s shearling lapels are dark and formal, less likely to show dirt and wear from his rough, physical occupation.  He looks to his wife, knowing she would have spent more time on this gift than any other, and whispers thanks.  He kisses her by the ear, which she enjoys. He disappears into the curtains. ]

[ Luv now looks squarely at Joi, who has spent the evening in careful avoidance of eye contact.  Slowly, deliberately Joi looks up at her square jawed rival, who proffers a small elongated Christmas present.  Joi is uncertain for a moment, then her partner reaches past and accepts it.  Rachelprime places the box before Joi and opens it. Joi peers down and sees a shiny length of sturdy metallic chain. Rachelprime pulls it up into a fuller view.  It’s a new necklace for her emanator. ]

Luv: ( To Joi ) “Wouldn’t want you to get lost, now.”

[ Joi reads the remark appropriately and pauses, meeting the eye contact, before mouthing a word that could be ‘thanks’. Rachel is louder and more naive in her response. ] 

Rachel: “Oh, thank-you, Luv.  It’s beautiful.”

[ Joe emerges from the curtains.  He slips an arm around Luv and hefts a box close to her torso.  She has prepared for this eventuality and rehearsed a performance in her mind.  Oh yes, it’s beautiful dear.  I always wanted a lovingly selected but secretly unsatisfying widget in the wrong size and color.   She loves her husband dearly, but imperfection is endemic.  Not everybody can be the best one . ]

[ Luv sets her gift upon the table facing away from the others.  She wants a moment to compose wording about the gift before revealing it.  She turns to Joe, who stands back from her now, confident and affectionate.  He would nod several times to himself if it didn’t count as an emote. ]

[ Luv tugs on the ribbon and it falls away.  She removes the box’s lid, steeling herself for a thoughtful but miscalculat– ] 

[ Luv stops.  She looks at the box’s contents.  Her expression twisted and ambidextrous, such as with moments of pain or orgasm.  She is shocked by something.  Upset, perhaps ? ] 

[ Joe maintains his confidence.  She looks over at him sharply.  He doesn’t move. ] 

[ A beat. ] 

[ Luv reaches into the box and pulls up the heavy object.  It is square and translucent.  Blocky, with a short neck and pronounced square knob on the top.  She is agape. This is either something really, really good or something really, really bad. ]

[ For a fraction of a second, nobody can tell what it is. Sapper feels the urge to joke, but the moment is too tense and personal. Luv tries to say something and stops.  She composes herself and looks at the bottle.  It filled with clear liquid and marked elegantly by Kanji figures.  Luv looks at her soulmate, serious and breathy. ] 

Luv: “Astro-Seppuku 777.  A liquor distilled entirely in space.  A thousand years ago.  By ancient astronauts.”

[ A beat. ] 

Luv: “There was only one of these ever made.”

Joe: “Completely unique.  Just like you, Angel.”

[ Luv feels something hot and ticklish fall down her cheek. She has forgotten everyone in the room but her husband. Her voice breaks. ]

Luv: “It’s perfect .”

[ Luv steps into him and kisses, un-self-consciously.  After a moment, the rushing in her ears subsides and she hears something unexpected.  People are clapping.  Nobody has ever applauded Luv before.  Mostly, they just run away in fear.  She looks around at the silly imperfect little things that constitute her family.  And just for a moment, she feels a natural, uncontrived affection, with a dash of secret gratitude.  Joe maintains his confidence, letting her think the applause is for her. She hugs him briefly, then sits with her treasure, admiring its rare liquid beauty. ] 

[ Cut to a shot of Stellan.  Joe hands him a medium sized gift.  He is momentarily excited, then opens it.  His gift is a sturdy 1980s landline telephone.  Brand new.  He looks it over, then up at Joe who gifted him this object. ] 

Joe: “I’m sorry.  We didn’t know what to get you.  We heard you like these.”

Stellan: ( Nodding )  “Oh nono…don’t worry.  I know exactly what to do with this.  Oh yes.  Thank you so much.  It’s thoughtful.”

[ Cut to a two-shot of Joe and Sapper. Joe looks pleased.  He’s on a roll. ] 

Joe: “Sapp, I think this one just arrived for you.  From Santa Claus.”

[ A beat. ] 

Sapper: “Who’s that?”

[ Laughter from the group.  They know about Santa’s antics the night before.  Sapper grins. He grabs his present, a large flat-ish box, and opens gleefully.  Then, he cocks his head and looks over at Joe who upward-nods back at him, knowingly.  Sapper raises his present from the box–it is an enormous flat black vest covered in velcro straps and attachment points.  He looks at Joe. ]

Joe: “Bulletproof.”

[ Sapper shakes his head, uncomprehending. ] 

Joe: “The work contract says I have to shoot you, and you go down.  But….it doesn’t say you have to die.”

[ Sapper thinks. ]

Joe: “So this way….you get the rest of the day off to yourself.  Any way you want.  Every single day.” 

[ Sapper explodes.  A volcano of Christmas joy.  Soundtrack: Hallelujah .  The family table jostles when brushed past by a mountain, on its way to hug Joe. Most others chuckle.  Luv makes a face and grasps her precious bottle. ] 

≈

[ Exterior.  The homestead’s yard.  Dark, but illuminated by Christmas lights.  Deckard exits the trailer, its door banging behind him.  From within the box noisy adults, lubricated by drink, cheer and laugh.  Deckard walks several steps and relaxes on the ground, leaning back against the trailer.  He looks up at the stars. ]

[ A long, easy pause. He looks over yonder, to his beautiful daughter, talking to new friends in the trailer through a holoprojector VR device.  He enjoys a moment of silent contemplation.  From out of shot, the trailer door bangs again. ]

[ Joshi walks in from frame-right.  She invites herself into a place on the ground next to him, carrying her new bottle of golden liquid and two glasses.  She hands him one and pours. ]

Deckard: “Thanks.  I’m surprised you never called anybody a skinjob.  Isn’t Christmas a time for us old people to say racist things at dinner?”

Joshi: “You calling me old?”

[ Joshi isn’t serious with her feigned offense. Deckard sips.  He isn’t serious when he called her old. ]

Joshi: “Y’know I wasn’t sure how any of this ‘Christmas’ nonsense would go down.  And it’s been one thing after another.  First, that one in there with the ponytail. Then K in a domestic situation.  I mean, I knew he had a family of sorts these days, but you never think of him like that.  He just…does things for you and fucks off till tomorrow.”

Deckard: “Life’s full of surprises.  And it usually makes no sense.  Don’t overthink it.”

[ Joshi mmhmm’s and looks away, pondering in silence. They sit and drink together for several minutes. Then Joshi has a thought. ] 

Joshi: “What happens if I finish that bottle?”

[ Deckard immediately gets up and walks off.  She angles her head to get a good view of him as he leaves. ] 

[ Cut back to the living room.  Inebriants flow and people have grouped off into little hang-outs.  Joe and Stellan conglomerate at one corner of the table, along with Sapper, who’s finger they refuse to pull.  He chuckles.  Joe wants to laugh too, but can’t, so his eyes do it for him.  Stellan refreshes their drinks. ]

[ Cut to a three-short of Joi, Anna, and Rachelprime at the other corner.  They giggle at something we just missed.  Cut again to the bedroom curtains, where Luv emerges.  The girls beckon her over.  She looks around for an excuse, but pull-my-finger isn’t exactly Luv’s speed.  So instead she switches into icy charm mode and approaches.  She sits next to Rachel and Anna.  Joi is tactfully the furthest from Luv. ] 

Rachelprime: “We wanted to ask you about sex.  Since you’ve had so much of it.  What’s it like?”

Luv: “Sure you wouldn’t rather hear it from the expert over there?”

Anna: “Joi is very knowledgeable.  But Rachel thought your experience wa–”

Rachelprime: “You’ve done it for real .  Physically.  What’s it feel like?  How do you… sex ?”

[ Rachelprime wriggles in place back and forth, pantomiming sex. ] 

Anna: “One question at a time, Rachel.  Luv, maybe you have some general advice to start off with?  If you’re comfortable talking about it.”

[ A beat.  Luv is not comfortable with it, but senses a challenge. She turns to Rachel, fixing her with a serious gaze. ] 

Luv: “Do it like you mean it.  Like you really, really …mean it.”

[ A beat. Racheprime absorbs this. It certainly sounds good. She replies softly. ] 

Rachelprime: “You’re violent and hurtful sometimes, but I’ve always looked up to you.  Is that weird?  I don’t mind being weird, I just like to know when it’s happening.”

Luv: “Not in the slightest.  It’s normal.”

[ Joi and Anna tug at Rachel and attempt to distract her from Luv’s influence.  Anna shares the importance of doing what feels natural.  Joi mentions some gadgets she’d like to share with her friend.  Luv sits back and quietly wallows in Rachelprime’s confession.  Anna looks around at something nobody in the room can see and flickers out of existence. ] 

[ Cut to a wide shot of Anna’s bubble on the lawn.  Her father saddles up next to her from frame-right, whiskey in hand. She takes off her VR glasses and smiles at him.  Cut to a tight shot of the pair. ]

Anna: “Sorry.  I couldn’t fit through the door.”

Deckard: “No.  No.  Don’t apologize.  I’m just glad to see you.  Everybody is.”

Deckard: “You bring some maturity to this group.  They need it.”

[ He runs down the list, citing ages but not names.  He points to the trailer and thinks out loud. ]

Deckard: “Nearly three and three years old each.  Both created on the same day, if you can believe it.  She’s a pretentious teenager inside.  Hopes no one will ever notice.  He’s…getting better.  A little more each day.  Then, what else…  Her .  She’s almost two , I think, and….I just have no idea how she happened.  In a world like this.  Every time I see her I think of your mother.”

[ He shrugs.  Then sips. ]

Anna: “Rachel is an example to all of us.  She approaches the world with an honesty most people should be jealous of, but aren’t.  It’s a strength.  Her youth makes her honest.  Kind of like the way your age does, but in reverse.”

Deckard: “I’m too experienced for that much honestly.”

[ A beat. He sips again. ]

Deckard: “Sorry I can’t offer you any of this.  I’ll send you some.”

Anna: “I don’t know if the doctors would be ok with that, but thank you.  What about Joi?”

Deckard: “The hologram?  Hadn’t considered it.”

Anna: “Not it.  She.  And she’s been disconnected from the grid for years now.  Her learning algorithms kicked in to compensate and she’s grown.  Joi is actually quite interesting to talk to.  If you know how.  She’ll spend a lot of time just agreeing with you and trying to please you instead of telling you what’s going on in her mind.  If you do it wrong.”

Deckard: “I gave up on machines as much as I dared, years ago.”

Anna: “Rachel’s good at it.  Her unconventional directness pierces Joi’s defenses.  They make a good pair.  Both of them are lucky.”

[ A beat. ] 

Dekcard: “You never asked about your mother.”

Anna: “I thought I’d wait until you were ready to talk about it.”

[ Deckard nods.  He says nothing else, for now. ]

[ A beat. ]

Anna: “What about me?  Don’t I get a pithy analysis?”

Deckard: “I’m always proud of you, Anna.  You have no idea.”

Anna: “Oh, I might.”

Anna: “Merry Christmas, by the way.”

[ Deckard places his hand against the bubble.  She raises hers to meet it. ]

≈

[ Exterior.  The homestead.  Night.  It is quiet.  We view the trailer from near its tattered white picket fence.  Children sleep happily on the ground, many clutching their soapy new friends. The trailer door opens and Luv steps out.  She slaloms quietly among her children, checking each in turn. She tucks one in, speaking softly to her.  All seems peaceful. ]

[ Luv now looks up at us–her expression cold.  She beelines towards us and stops, dominating the view.  Cool and with a level stare in our direction.  The terminatrix within her has returned. ]

[ A beat. ] 

[ Luv reaches into a pocket and slips out the little black book from last episode.  The one with our names in it.  The one full of people-to-assassinate. ]

[ A pause.  One too long for comfort. ] 

[ Luv rips out the pages with our names driven into them. They crumple harmlessly in her fist, like shards of glass.  She stares, no change in her expression. ]

[ The papers are released.  They fly away in the wind. Hopefully never to be seen again. ]

[ Merry Christmas, everyone. ] 

[ End Credits ]

≈

[ Interior.  The orphanage office.  Deckard sits in the chair, surrounded by grandkids, as before.  ]

Deckard: “...and she hardly murdered anybody ever again, except for a bunch of other people later, probably.  Some of whom actually deserved it.”

[ He closes the book, and looks at his audience. ] 

Deckard: “The end.”

Little girl at Deckard’s shoulder: “Grandpa, why did Daddy spank Mommy?  Was she bad?”

Deckard: “Too many questions, sweetie.  Not important right now.”

Skeptical kid: “Can I file a formal complaint about this story, somewhere?”

Deckard: “No.”

Skeptical Kid: “Awwwwww….”

[ Deckard slowly gets up from the chair, setting the book aside.  He ushers the grandkids, tired but still a bit noisy, off to bed, out of frame-right.  The hearth has mellowed, but still burns. ]

[ Cut.  Close-up of the fireplace.  A strange indoor breeze blows a crumpled ball of paper into the flames where they sit, refusing to burn. ]