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"Yo," The conductor grumbles, looking Keith up and down, "You got a problem, or what?" | "Yo," The conductor grumbles, looking Keith up and down, "You got a problem, or what?" | ||
Keith is rigid. | |||
"I don't got a problem," he says, softly, "Do you have a problem?" | |||
The conductor cautiously shakes his head from side to side, sending ashes flittering down from his sooty face. "Don't get me started." | |||
"You want a break?" Keith asks, motioning to the archaic stick-shift cabin module. The conductor looked from Keith, to the seat, and back again. | |||
"I don't know, buddy. Don't get me wrong-- I could use a break. This is my third 40-hour shift this month." the conductor sighs, leaning against the doorway. "But I can't just let anyone take the reins, you know. 'Else we'd have derailments every other day." | |||
Keith stares at the conductor. "We do have derailments every other day." | |||
The conductor lets out a sad chuckle; the kind of laugh you only hear from someone who's overworked and underpaid and has had their hopes crushed by the vices of a system designed to squeeze the love out of life and the joy out of being alive. | |||
"I don't know, man. Why should I trust you with my rig, woodhead? What do you do for a living, anyways? | |||
Keith stares vacantly at the conductor's module. He whispers under his breath, "I drive." | |||
Revision as of 05:41, 24 May 2023
'Blade Runner 2049 AB', often shortened to 'Blade Runner' or '2049' was a grim documentary film set in the Waifurian cybertropolis of Syndor City. The documentary followed lyricist and war veteran Keith Cumshoes as he navigated life within the overcrowded dystopia.
Synopsis
The documentary begins with Keith Cumshoes sitting in an empty bullet train cabin alone, staring out the window at the acid-rain drenched Syndor skyline. He looks somber. The bullet train stops and a Waifurian Service Droid approaches him.
"Sir, the train has stopped. Please depart the vehicle." The droid says in a monotone, fractured voice. Keith grumbles and pulls out a joint. He lights it and lounges back in the seat. The Service Droid repeats its statement, and Keith furrows his wooden brow at it.
"No thanks." Keith says, simply, turning back towards the window. The droid repeats the statement again. Keith lunges up from his seat and grabs its frail metal skull in the palm of his hand, crushing it. He begins slowly walking towards the front of the train, wafting pot smoke behind him. He knocks gently on the conductor's cabin.
A small, portly man in overalls opens the door. He reeks of mushrooms and has a cigarette-burnt mustache.
"Yo," The conductor grumbles, looking Keith up and down, "You got a problem, or what?"
Keith is rigid.
"I don't got a problem," he says, softly, "Do you have a problem?"
The conductor cautiously shakes his head from side to side, sending ashes flittering down from his sooty face. "Don't get me started."
"You want a break?" Keith asks, motioning to the archaic stick-shift cabin module. The conductor looked from Keith, to the seat, and back again.
"I don't know, buddy. Don't get me wrong-- I could use a break. This is my third 40-hour shift this month." the conductor sighs, leaning against the doorway. "But I can't just let anyone take the reins, you know. 'Else we'd have derailments every other day."
Keith stares at the conductor. "We do have derailments every other day."
The conductor lets out a sad chuckle; the kind of laugh you only hear from someone who's overworked and underpaid and has had their hopes crushed by the vices of a system designed to squeeze the love out of life and the joy out of being alive.
"I don't know, man. Why should I trust you with my rig, woodhead? What do you do for a living, anyways?
Keith stares vacantly at the conductor's module. He whispers under his breath, "I drive."