PROLOGUE: Meridian research institute Remote South
A nonartful arrangement of plain gray box-like buildings sits atop a frigid mountain peak, which soars above a frigid ocean in a frigid corner of the world. Near the Institute are some penguins, who don't know what an Institute is. They look for some fish instead. Text insert reads "Meridian Research Institute Remote South, Mt Paget, South Georgia, Atlantic Ocean, Southern Hemisphere, Earth, January 18, 2010 CE" while the camera flies away to a wide shot just before an explosion gives birth to a blinding shaft of white light that pierces the sky and burrows into the mountain peak below. Boulders crash down the mountain, but we don't hear their rumble. We instead hear the voiceover of ALEXANDER MARONI.
ALEXANDER
Infinite Energy, they called it. Meridian, they named it. A rift in the fabric of reality that made anything possible. Hope. An end to war. A new birth for the human race. But we saw it for what it was.
2015-2022 The date remains onscreen through the entire scene, counting the date up over time, pausing when the action returns to normal time-lapse. While he speaks, the wide shot of the mountain peak holds and time speeds up, capturing the rapid increase of activity around the shaft of light as vehicles cluster around it on the sea and in the sky, structures are built around it, and then...
ALEXANDER
An extended hand from the Devil himself. A cordial invitation engraved and stamped with the seal of war.
2026-2037 Satellite images of stockpiled weapons, some of them in South Georgia, others all over the world. The sped-up time slows occasionally to show us moments of normal-speed combat exchanged between enormous battle cruisers on the sea and in the sky, gouts of smoke erupt and obscure our view, and clear on a battle-ravaged seascape, pockmarked with craters and covered with wreckage. Maroni continues:
ALEXANDER
A false peace. A desperate truce as the nations, overcome with self-preservation but learning nothing, vowed to put aside the weapons of war and unite under one flag, a flag flown over a devil's gift.
2038-2045 The wreckage is cleared away and more construction can be seen, a shining collection of sky-tearing buildings beginning to overwhelm the mountainous island. A parabolic launch ramp with the shaft of light as its asymptote carries a series of massive space shuttles into the sky as fireworks go off in celebration.
ALEXANDER
The most terrible of the weapons of war, too dangerous to be destroyed, were shot into space. "Then he dreamed, and behold, a ladder was set up on the earth, and its top reached to heaven; and there the angels of God were ascending and descending on it."
2046-2097 More construction over a golden sunset. We see the verse Maroni just quoted inscribed on a giant plaque that identifies the launch ramp as Jacob's Ladder.
ALEXANDER
The angels of God. What did they know of angels, my brothers and sisters?
We see for the first time Maroni in the flesh. In a vast, dimly lit sepulchral chamber filled with men and women in identical robes, he stands, proud yet filled with tension and righteous fatigue, grasping the pulpit from which he pontificates. His voice booms around the chamber as we cut away to more of these men and women in robes, clustered around a hangar bay filled with warheads, futuristic in design but unmistakable in purpose. Text inserts identify the latter as taking place on December 31, 2099 CE.
ALEXANDER
The arrogance. The hubris! To dedicate to God this ultimate of evil things, this contemptuous "Ladder to Heaven", this tower of Babel! Our forebears saw the truth of things, my brothers and sisters! Our forebears knew what an evil had been wrought in God's name! Our forebears understood that such a mighty evil could only be answered with an equal evil! An eye for an eye! A profanity for a profanity!
His voice is forceful, passionate, but not manic. He is not insane, at least not as far as we can see. As he goes on, we see shots of the men and women in robes in 2099 fire their countless warheads in a salvo that rips across the surface of the entire planet, focused on major population centers and leveling them.
ALEXANDER
Devastation, they called it. Ashfall, they called it. Ninety percent of the world's population paid for the sins of the nations, and the remaining ten percent congregated, irony of ironies, under the umbrella of their precious Meridian, the energy of the rift which keeps the fallout at bay.
We now see the same shot from before of South Georgia, which is now being built up more rapidly than before, into a massive city. Zooming farther out, the construction extends beyond the island to an archipelago to the east, and a massive megalopolis can be seen against the blasted, barren landscape of the major landmasses of the planet, an ocean away. Text reads: "New Olympia, colloquially known as Remote South, 2396 CE".
THE TITLE appears over this vista.
Act i, SCENE i: MARONI MANOR
The camera dives and swoops toward an area of the city, diving underground and revealing the sepulchral chamber where Maroni is giving his sermon.
ALEXANDER
Is it not fitting, my brothers and sisters, that the devil-tower which the nations worshipped, warred over, and revered above their own Creator, now sustains their toehold on the physical world, this last bastion of humanity's attempt to forestall the end of days, when God will descend to deliver his chosen people from these despicable fleshy bonds? The twenty-fifth millenium approaches, brothers and sisters. We prepare...
His voice fades from our focus as we pull away from the massive chamber, down some underground corridors, up a vertical shaft, and into opulent halls and rooms of luxurious excess, to a girl's room. The girl, JESSICA MARONI, is young, thirteen years to be exact. She has long black hair, purple eyes, olive skin, and a BOYFRIEND, who is somewhat older. The boyfriend is currently caught between first and second base, and is considering just making a run for third, rules be damned. Jessica is not entirely opposed to this idea in theory, but:
JESSICA
Stop...stop.
BOYFRIEND
Stop?
JESSICA
It's almost...stop.
BOYFRIEND
Almost what?
He does something we can't see which makes her laugh, but:
JESSICA
My dad's almost done with his thing. I have to go. He'll be waiting for me. Get...get off, you.
He rolls off of her, obviously disappointed, but used to this kind of thing, as we can see from his playful mocking. As she sits up and begins to compose her hair:
BOYFRIEND
Your dad? You're disgusting! You disgust me.
She giggles as he milks looking scandalized, and pushes him lightly.
JESSICA
You are gross!
BOYFRIEND
And you're so secretive. When are you going to tell me what goes on with you and your dad?
Jessica
Rich people stuff.
BOYFRIEND
This again.
JESSICA
We eat the finest real fish and drink real tea and count his money every night together.
boyfriend
Fascinating.
jessica
It takes a long time!
boyfriend
Do you fuck before or after?
JESSICA
You are gross!
A knock on her door. She looks toward it, and where he can't see, her face is panic-stricken, even more so than one would expect from a teenage girl about to be caught with a boy in her room. Much more so. She looks terrified. But only for a moment. She quickly turns to him with the majority of her fear masked.
JESSICA
(hissing)
Get!
He is used to this as well. He rolls off her bed into the space between it and the wall. Jessica hurries to the door and opens it a crack. The BUTLER speaks.
BUTLER
Mistress.
JESSICA
Oh, it's just you.
BUTLER
Yes, it is just me, Mistress. So good of you to notice. Are your toys put away properly?
She purses her lips at his characterization of her boyfriend and gives him a look, but also carefully shakes her head. He leans in and whispers:
BUTLER
If I may be so bold, Mistress.
JESSICA
Yes I will just...just get! Get!
From outside the mansion, we see a window open and a shadow exit unceremoniously and rappel down the house. Inside, Jessica turns again to the door and opens enough to let the butler inside.
Butler
The master will conclude his meeting soon, mistress, whereupon your presence will be expected in the grand study.
He takes a beat and she looks expectant. He closes the door behind him and lowers, to a degree, his carefully crafted butler's demeanor, leaning toward her more naturally.
Butler
Mistress...Jessica.
JESSICA
Y...yes?
BUTLER
Your toys. Perhaps it is time...to part with them.
She narrows her eyes rebelliously. He presses on.
BUTLER
Your birthday, Jessica. It is in less than a month. You know what that means, certainly.
She softens, and a small amount of the fear she displayed earlier returns.
butler
Jessica, are you still...surely you haven't...
The mask is raised again and she reacts with all the nonverbal indignance of a teenager being asked such a personal question, but does not answer.
butler
I need you to tell me, Jessica.
Jessica
(embarassed)
No, okay?
butler
(relieved)
Good. That...that is very good. Jessica, please, you know what your father would say about...toys. You know this can't continue.
Jessica says nothing. After a beat, he straightens to his butler posture and resumes the utmost of courtesy. As he opens the door:
butler
I humbly implore you, Mistress, to give my words careful consideration.
He takes a beat.
butler
Your presence will be expected in the grand study in approximately twenty minutes, Mistress.
He exits. Jessica showers and changes, and we follow her through corridors and staircases in the mansion to one of many sets of tall, finely crafted wooden double doors. As she opens the left door, we see her father, Alexander Maroni, standing proudly and sternly, behind a desk, or perhaps a table. The door closes behind her.