Digital Ischemia

27/05/2012

Warp 4

Filed under: What You Wish For-S — Teepwriter @ 16:47

INT. BENACHAR HOUSE HALL – DAY

Polly wanders in, dials the phone.

POLLY
Hi Vanessa.  It’s Polly.  Is Will there?
(beat)
Ah, I forgot he’s on student time.  How’re–

Polly lowers the phone in surprise.

POLLY (CONT’D)
Nice to speak to you too.

Polly has a frustrated frisson.  She flicks the light switch.  Nothing happens.  She grabs a coat, glances at the clock: 5:15.

EXT. BENACHAR HILL TRACK – 1863, DAY

Polly marches, mouthing words, flinging her arms, glaring at the ground.  She starts, jerks up her head: the cart is stationary ahead of her, facing toward town.  She stares up at Innes.

INNES
May I offer ye a ride?

Polly smiles bewildered acknowledgement.  Innes offers a hand, helps her climb up.  He urges the horse on at a sedate pace.  She gets a grip on herself.

POLLY
Do you like to speak while riding or remain silent?

Polly contorts her face at her unusual speech, gapes down in alarm at her nineteenth century coat, blouse, long skirt and leather shoes.

INNES
Since ye are beside me, it would be rude no’ tae ask aboot ye.

POLLY
Ask what?

INNES
What is your business each day that brings ye along this road?

POLLY
It is not business but pleasure.  I like to walk.

INNES
We can ride tae naewhere–

POLLY
–I do have a profession.  I am a… teacher.

INNES
A fine job.

POLLY
Thank you.  What is yours?

INNES
I am the Wright at Ben Achar.

Innes gestures.  Polly covers her shock.

POLLY
Do you like the work?

INNES
I do.  The Laird is canny.  There are no’ many folk roun’ here, but.  Especially no’ young lassies oot walking for pleasure.

Polly smiles self-consciously.

EXT. RURAL TOWN STREET – 1863, DAY

The town approach lacks buildings and modern street furniture.  Polly is amazed.  Innes pulls up the cart before the first building.

INNES
I should let ye aff here in case any yin would think this no’ proper.

POLLY
Of course.  Thank you for the ride.  And the conversation.

Innes helps Polly slither down.

INNES
I am Innes, by the way.

POLLY
Polly.

Innes nods, urges the horse on, drives along the street.  Polly stares after him, taking in the partly familiar surroundings.  She drifts a hand to her face, vaguely slaps and pinches her cheek.

People move along the street, startling Polly.  She turns about, scuttles toward the track, dazed.

INT. BENACHAR HOUSE HALL – 2013, DAY

Polly stumbles in.  The light comes on.  She switches it off, stares at the clock: 5:15.  She slumps, breathing, fondling her twenty-first century clothing.

SFX: phone rings.

Polly’s reverie shatters.  She answers the phone.

POLLY
Hello?
(beat)
Yeh, we just had one.
(beat)
I seem to be getting used to it.  How long do you think?
(beat)
Okay.  Thanks.

Polly hangs up, oddly relieved.

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