Philip Harlan holds a napkin to the scratch on his cheek. It’s a superficial wound, but painful. “She doesn’t listen,” he complains. “She doesn’t believe.”
Rhoda, sitting calmly on the ugly orange couch in Doug’s office, scoffs loudly. “The things he wants me to say, Doug, it’s ridiculous. I won’t do it,” she says, glancing up at Harlan’s wound—she had aimed the coffee mug perfectly. “I tried, but…he’s such an ass.”
“Rhoda, did you do that to his face,” asks Doug. It has been only a minute since these two barged into his office, Philip bleeding, Rhoda fuming, and he is still trying to get his head around the situation. Landmine City, he thinks, I must tread carefully.
“Is that an accident?”
Neither Rhoda or Philip answer or meet his eye.
“Great. Super. You’re together on that point at least...”
“She’s not a believer. There’s no point in her being here if she doesn’t believe,” says Harlan from his corner behind Doug’s desk, a strategic positon that puts as much distance and as many obstacles as possible between himself and Rhoda.
“This man is a crackpot. Have you read what he wants me to say?”
Doug fidgets before answering, “I skimmed it…” Rhoda laughs, “Oh, that’s wonderful, that you skimmed it. Well, it’s nonsense. I mean, not even scary.”
“It’s the truth,” Harlan says to Rhoda. “What could be more terrifying?”
“Wait, wait, wait,” Doug says, realizing a terrible fact. “There’s another half an hour left on the show…is nothing playing right now? Is it dead air? Are we broadcasting dead air?!”
Rhoda shrugs. “Ask him.”
Doug turns to Harlan, his body language demanding an answer. “Not dead air...”
Doug flips the switch to the in-house speakers and the office instantly begins vibrating with the sound of a wavering, high pitched tone. “Jesus! What is that…is that a Theremin?”
“It’s a psychic alarm, a sort of wake-up call for the hypnotized and brainwashed. Not too powerful, we don’t want to cause a panic.”
Rhoda opens her hands to Doug, her point made. “See?” She notices that Doug’s eyes have glazed over, his signature tell of genuine anger. He’s going to fire this kook right now.
“It’s brilliant,” says Doug.
“What?”
“This is brilliant…talk about terrifying…what, I mean what the hell is this? It’s so weird. Rhoda, I can’t believe you’re not loving this.”
“Doug, you can’t be serious.”
Doug leans back in reverie, “The psychic alarm…right on. I mean, wow.”
Emboldened by Doug’s positive reaction, Harlan ventures out from his corner. “It’s really meant to be used subliminally, laid under Rhoda’s voice…if she would only read what I give her.”
“Never.”
Philip sighs theatrically, “I really thought a woman of your imagination would be more open to the truth about reality.”
“Do you even hear yourself when you speak?”
“Okay, okay,” says Doug, snapping out of his dream of marketing gold. “This is my fault, I threw you together too quickly. I think feelings have been hurt…”
“Screw you, Doug.”
“Rhoda, we need to come together on this thing.” “She needs to believe, it’s really that simple.” “What is this-- Peter Pan?”
“Okay, alright,” Doug stands up with cheesy managerial enthusiasm, “What’s it going to take for you to believe, Rhoda?”
“How about a brain injury?”
“I propose a field trip.”
Both Rhoda and Doug look at Harlan blankly.
“I realize now that I have been presumptuous and overeager these past few days and I’m sorry for it. I get carried away, I admit-- I am nothing if not a slave to my passion. But I am no crackpot, and I would like the chance to prove it to you directly. There’s nothing like first hand experience to open a closed mind…no offense.” Rhoda looks from Harlan to Doug and back again. There is no way out of this and she knows it.
“Where are we going, exactly?”
“Not far. Not far at all.”