3 Dimensional Interactive Movies

[The Holo Magi, Cusp of Atlantis first draught.]
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special note - only people who've done
English 111 will understand the verse line
numbering system below.]
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Act Three Scene Nine

-Orb, sparkling as you are, going
about in such a likeness to St Elmo's fire,
flit to the Stormchaser II and tell the
sex robots aboard, who have nothing
better to do in port than tweak one
another's nipples and slap one another's
arses, to wake up to themselves, to
come back here, against their better
collective judgement, so sickened.
-As I snort ozone, so shall I do just that, $10
in a leisurely heartbeat with a dogpaddle
of the refreshing breeze in front of me.
-So long my trusty whirligig, you oddball
of the binnacle. This fortress is becoming
a gulag, I don't understand the metaphysics
of it at all. God should backdate the
good old days or apply them lump sum.
-Benign dictator, you see for yourself, me,
honorary Junior Junior, knight of the realm
of Diamonds, bookworm, adventurer, $20
bipolar master of the elements. Let me
embrace you with gusto and bon homie.
-You are too forward, but in the unlikely
event that you are he and not a flim flam man
out to rob me of my state and lock me up
for torture, as I'm petitioned daily in snail
mail; air hisses out your nostrils, your ribcage
subtly expands and contracts, your hands
and throat quiver blood coursing veins - but
I've solidified my position - you are ancient $30
history, a reckless recluse of dubious value
to Colombian society, neither engaged in
creating black market wealth through
cocaine manufacture and peddling, nor signing
up for loans in New York to protect US
industry against genuine competition.
-Explain how Junior might end up here?
-You're more set in your ways than ever,
as you've grown older - let me bear hug you,
-No touchy feely for me thanks, Senor Junior. $40
-A sceptic, I admire that, you're a man after my
own heart if not Aztec, or left kidney.
Come on in, but you yes men who bootlick
and backbite, I have an opinion about you.
-He's talking out his backside, on his head
in some unknown new yoga position.
-It disgusts me that we have a common ancestor
going back as little as forty generations. You're
neanderthals, literally and in manner.
-We've seen our faces in wobbly reflections of $50
water and admit the lumpy nature of our faces
due to collisions under water on the shipwreck.
-I say it's karma, that you were too cheap,
even after my disappearance at sea, to hire
a luxury superyacht or buy outright.
-Alas, what is a pulp wedge of notes worth. We
pocketed the difference. All at sea in third rate
chartered rust bucket registered in Panama!
-I'm starting to believe you are who you claim -
this tax credit for charity rant you've started $60
is a nasty habit of yours, Senor Junior. I
recognise that brainwash, but not the hogwash
where you call yourself Holo Magi.

[Holo Magi waves two large horse shoe shaped
magnets either side of the Dictator to turn him
three hundred and sixty degrees.]

-Most of the atomic table is metals, not many
tyrants know that. Certainly, not you.
-Magi, give us the details of our shipwreck, that
only we know for sure, by your powers of
remote viewing and precognition.
-The shipwreck happened in still waters on a
sunny day with not a cloud in the sky. $70
-Black christ of Warsaw! Touche! Touche!
-You had a step daughter who was a bachelor
tomboy, whom you always called Frannie
and never Fran, whose face was the last to
pass through your mind as the ship went
down and you blacked out blue in face.
-Si, Frannie's little cherub face from long ago,
before she became a crook and a black sheep.
-I too have lost something, you might call a chip
off the old block, between Medellin there, $80
and the Cusp of Atlantis, here, on this chart.
-I scoured the gulags for her. I'm sure she's
all right with her pimp boyfriend, settled
down to picking pockets and shoplifting.
I have absolute faith in her survival skills.
I still carry her baby photo in this locket.
Wasn't she the cherub on an oil painting?
-Your ship dropped into a trench where a
hurricane was seeding, bluegreen bioluminscent
cloud shrouded you, your ship suddenly $90
plummetted and cracked in four pieces.
-Let me finish the post mortem, Senor Junior -
we were belched back up to the surface by
steaming underwater volcanic vents.
-I've forgiven you for your callous deeds.
-What is there to forgive? You make it sound
like spilt milk. Oops, I promise to stuff up
on purpose next time. You must play possum.
-The sex robots will hostess you to the
Stormchaser II. You'll be dropped off in $100
the Bay of Pigs, in the quiet early hours.
-Thank God for small mercies, Senor Junior.

[A venetian blind rolls up revealing Junior II
and Francesca playing poker with chips
piled high.
Behind them on the wall is a tableau of the
four kings of the deck.
SPADES DIAMONDS CLUBS HEARTS]

-You let me win so as to make me fall
in love with you - I didn't see that coming.
-I did not. See. I was bluffing, I even
smiled to fool you, as you look down on me.
-I was taken in by the charm of your smile.
-I'd mark the cards to always lose just to make
you happy. You know that, my dear, my love.

[End of Act Three Scene Nine.]