POD

Episode Six – Valentine’s Day

Written by

Peter Richard Adams

SCENE 1.

JEMIMA: 	(V.O.) Space. The final job before I quit. These are the voyages of UK Space Agency Engineering Pod Number 46. My five-year mission: to explore the ten square metres I’m trapped inside, seek out Pluto and boldly go and switch the lights off. If they’re still on. 

FADE

SCENE 2.

F/X: 	THE LOW HUM AND BLEEPS THAT YOU WOULD EXPECT FROM THE INTERIOR OF A SPACE-GOING VESSEL.

POD: 	What are you wearing?

JEMIMA: 	Nothing.

POD: 	Don’t play cool with me. 

JEMIMA:	Seriously… don’t worry about it, Pod. 

POD:	Come on… I know there’s something different about you. You look like a cake. A big, white cake. A big, white, virginal cake… It’s a wedding dress isn’t it?

JEMIMA: 	Maybe… So what? There’s nothing weird about that.  

POD: 	No, of course not… There’s nothing at all weird about being all dressed up ready for the most important day of your life when you’re 240 thousand miles from the nearest church.
	Incoming Communication.  

JEMIMA: 	What?! Cancel it. 

POD:	Can’t. 

JEMIMA:	Why not?

POD:	Can’t be bothered. 

JEMIMA:	Ok then… Put it through. Audio only. 

POD:	Why only audio? Let the world see you! There’s nothing weird going on here… 

JEMIMA:	Audio. Only. Pod.

POD: 	Putting it through on visual now, Miss Havisham. 

F/X: 					COMMUNICATOR SWITCHES ON. 

GRAHAM: 	(D) Oh my good God. 

JEMIMA: 	Graham! Honey! You ok?

GRAHAM: 	(D) Have you flipped?

JEMIMA:	No darling, I’ve just been sifting through the cupboards. 

GRAHAM: 	(D) You found a wedding dress in the cupboards of a space-going engineering pod?

JEMIMA: 	Sort of. I actually picked it up a few weeks back drifting in the Garbage Belt. 

GRAHAM: 	(D) So you rescued it from the abyss of space just in case you bumped into Mr Right? 

POD:	Funny story there… 

JEMIMA:	Pod. Mute comm. 

POD:	Comm muted. 

JEMIMA:	Right. Listen to me and listen to me good. 

POD:	Listening good, boss. 

JEMIMA: 	This dress came from the Garbage Belt. It did not come from a miner on Mars. I did not marry that miner in a misguided get-rich-quick scheme. I am not married. I have never been married. I am not currently awaiting divorce papers. Do you understand?

POD:	I think I’ve got the bones of it. 

JEMIMA:	Ok, Comm up. 

POD:	Comm up. 

GRAHAM:	(D) Jemima? Where did you go? What was Pod saying?

POD:	I was saying: “Funny story there as she did get hitched only last week.”

GRAHAM: 	(D) What?

JEMIMA:			Pod, go mute yourself. 

POD:				Awwwww…

JEMIMA:	I just got bored… So I thought it might be fun to play dress up.

GRAHAM: 	(D) Is it fun?

JEMIMA: 	No, not really. It’s just made me feel a bit lonely. Why have you called anyway?

GRAHAM:	(D) Oh no reason really. 

JEMIMA:	Really? It’s unlike you to just call anyone for a bit of a chat…

GRAHAM:	(D) Yeah… Just at a loose end for five minutes was all. 

JEMIMA:	Ok…

FADE

SCENE 3.

F/X: 	THE LOW HUM AND BLEEPS THAT YOU WOULD EXPECT FROM THE INTERIOR OF A SPACE-GOING VESSEL. THE RUSTLING OF BED SHEETS. 

JEMIMA: 	(SIGHS) Pod, are you awake? 

POD: 	Of course I am. You’re the only one who sleeps. I’m always awake. 

JEMIMA:	Really?

POD:	Oh yes. 

JEMIMA:	What do you do all night? 

POD:	There’s no night in space. 

JEMIMA:	It’s all night in space. 

POD:	Oooh… Thought provoking. 

JEMIMA:	Don’t change the subject. What do you do? 

POD:	Nothing. 

JEMIMA:	Nothing? You must do something? 

POD:	Nope nothing. Nothing at all. I just watch you sleep.

JEMIMA: 	Ok. That’s creepy. 
POD:	Isn’t it? If it helps I film you too. 

JEMIMA:	That doesn’t help. Why do you film me?

POD:	I film everything. Have you not noticed my lens?

JEMIMA:	I thought it was decorative. 

POD:	It does make me look good. But it’s also key to my hobby… Which is filming you. 

JEMIMA:	You have a hobby?

POD:	Sort of. I’m programmed to do it and I have to do it and if I didn’t do it then it probably means something has gone catastrophically wrong with my core programming. But I figured: “If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em”. So I started getting kind of into it… Experimenting with framing, that sort of thing. I shot all of last Sunday in black and white which I felt added a certain French quality… Each summer I hold a little film festival and at Christmas I put all my favourite clips into a one hour special. I won’t win any awards but it keeps me out of trouble. What’s wrong anyway?

JEMIMA:	I can’t sleep. 

POD:	Yes you can. I can prove it. Would you like me to play you a Best Of compilation? 

JEMIMA:	No, Pod. I mean I can’t sleep right now. I’ve been trying to for ages…

POD: 	Have you tried counting sheep? 

JEMIMA:	I have in the past, but my hay fever is so bad that it set me off. 

POD:	How about counting something that doesn’t involve the possibility of thinking about grass? 

JEMIMA:	Like what?

POD:	We could play count the stars? 

JEMIMA:	Yeah I suppose that could work... 

POD:	Let’s do that then… Open the little shutter by the bed… There you go… And relax… Feel your breath entering into your body… And flowing out… Now start counting the stars… Ready? Go. Finished. 9096. What next? Music?

F/X: 					BRASS BAND MUSIC, LOUD. 

JEMIMA:	(SHOUTING) how is that supposed to help?!

POD:	(SHOUTING) It’s not! It’s supposed to be irritating!

JEMIMA: 	(SHOUTING) Turn it off. 

POD:	(SHOUTING) But this bit is really good!

JEMIMA:	(SHOUTING) Turn it off now!

F/X: 					MUSIC OFF. 

POD:	And sleep. 

JEMIMA:	How am I supposed to sleep? 

POD:	Because you’re relaxed. 

JEMIMA:	No I’m not. 

POD:	I can assure you, you’re 63% more relaxed now than you were when the brass band music was playing at an aggressive volume. That’s a big drop. Off you nod. 

JEMIMA:	Pod, that hasn’t made me want to sleep at all.

POD:	Why not?

JEMIMA:	Well, if anything it’s just set me on edge thinking you might do it again. Where did you even get that idea?

POD: 	I just made it up. Not bad huh? 

JEMIMA:	Not good either though, Pod. 

POD:	You’re a little sensitive tonight aren’t you? What’s eating you then? Something on your mind?

JEMIMA:	Yeah… It’s all that stuff with Graham earlier. I don’t get it. He never calls out of the blue… And he never gets in touch just to have a chat. Of course it’d be nice if he did occasionally, what with me trapped thousands of miles away in the depths of space for five years and everything… But it’s just not like him. 

POD: 	Right… So what’s bothering you is that he did the exact thing that you wanted him to do?

JEMIMA:	Yeah. 

POD: 	The thing that you’ve desired for months?

JEMIMA:	Yeah. 

POD:	And now that it’s happened, you have a problem with it? 

JEMIMA:	Yeah. 

POD:	Women are weird. 

JEMIMA:	He’s the one acting weird. 

POD:	Well you know what they say. Men are from… 

JEMIMA:	Earth. 

POD:	… and women are from…

JEMIMA:	Earth. And that’s just the problem isn’t it? I’m not on Earth. But he is… And he’s on his own… Surrounded by women. 

POD:	And men. 

JEMIMA:	And men. But it’s the women I’m worried about. 

POD:	Why? Was he the type to be surrounded by women before?

JEMIMA:	No. But that’s because I was there acting like some sort of angry, jealous shield. Now I’m up here and I’m still angry and jealous, but I can’t do the shielding. 

POD:	Well, maybe the reason you’re so worried is because you’re right. 

JEMIMA:	What?

POD:	I’m just saying that you might be right. He’s a young guy… He’s not going to wait on the shelf forever. Especially with you stuck up here. 

JEMIMA:	Thanks Pod! That’s one hell of a bedside manner…

POD:	You’re not sick, Jemima. You’re just anxious. I was hoping it would make you feel better. 

JEMIMA: 	How would that make me feel better?

POD:	Damn, I forgot to do the end bit didn’t I? Hang on, I’ll have another go… Especially with you stuck up here. (PAUSE) Just kidding! I’m sure he’s sat at home pining for you, staring at your photograph and counting the days until you get home… I bet he’s hardly considering his myriad options at all in that huge chasm of spare Jemima-less time he’s got. 

JEMIMA:	Thanks Pod. That was dreadful. 

POD:	Here to help! Why not call him?

JEMIMA:	Yeah, I suppose I could. That’s the sort of thing girlfriends do isn’t it? 

POD:	Search me. I couldn’t give a damn about your confusing monkey mating rituals. Making the call. 

F/X: 	COMMUNICATOR SWITCHES ON AND CALLS.

GRAHAM:	(D) Jemima? What’s going on? It’s the middle of the night.

JEMIMA:	There’s no night in space. 

GRAHAM:	(D) What?

JEMIMA:	Nothing… I just wanted to chat. 

GRAHAM:	(D) What about?

JEMIMA;	Well… Do you ever think about it?

GRAHAM: 	(D) About what?

JEMIMA: 	You know… Popping the question. 

GRAHAM: 	(D) I did once. But you were drunk. 

JEMIMA: 	Really?

GRAHAM: 	(D) Yes. Valentine’s Day, two years ago. I cooked you a special meal but you’d been out to get your hair done and came back stinking of Ouzo and regret. 

JEMIMA: 	I don’t remember this. 

GRAHAM: 	(D) I know. 

JEMIMA: 	What did I say? 

GRAHAM: 	(D) “Bleurghh!” if I remember correctly. Swiftly followed by a series of demands to hold back your hair, a questioning of my manhood, a request for a quick snog, anger, then snoring. 

JEMIMA: 	Oh. 

GRAHAM: 	(D) I shouldn’t worry about it. 

JEMIMA: 	But I am going to worry about it. I’m stuck up here for five years. That’s a long time to dwell on things like that.

GRAHAM: 	(D) Well, then don’t. Let’s get it over with. 

JEMIMA:	Get what over with? Graham! You’re not going to propose are you?!

GRAHAM:	(D) No.

JEMIMA: 	Oh.

GRAHAM:	(D) Kind of the opposite, if anything.

JEMIMA:	Ah. 

GRAHAM:	(D) The thing is Jemima, this whole five years in space thing is a bloody long time. 

JEMIMA: 	I know!

GRAHAM:	(D) It puts a bit of a strain on a relationship so I was thinking… rather than carrying on straining… maybe it would be better for both of us just not to be together… To split up. Go our own way for a bit. 

JEMIMA: 	But I’m not going my own way… I’m going to Pluto. 

GRAHAM:	(D) And I’m going to Exeter. They’re not very close to each other.

JEMIMA:	Yeah, but we’re pretty close to each other aren’t we?

GRAHAM:	(D) No. Not anymore. We’re thousands of miles apart. 

JEMIMA:	But I’ll miss you. 

GRAHAM:	(D) We’re already missing each other. Half a decade is a long time to be together. Especially when you’re not. 

JEMIMA: 	But I’ve only been gone three months. 

GRAHAM:	(D) And you’re going to be gone a lot longer. 

JEMIMA:	Is there someone else?

GRAHAM:	(D) No. (PAUSE) At least…

JEMIMA:	There is, isn’t there? I should have known. 

GRAHAM:	(D) No Jemima there’s not. It’s more that there might be. 

JEMIMA:	Oh. Well, can I ask who she is?

GRAHAM:	(D) John.

JEMIMA:	That bitch! Wait… Who’s John?

GRAHAM: 	(D) You know. John. From work. 

JEMIMA: 	You don’t work with anyone called John.

GRAHAM:	No. You do.

JEMIMA:	What? My John? Work John? 

GRAHAM:	(D) Yes. 

JEMIMA:	How on earth do you even know him?

GRAHAM:	(D) Well… Firstly I met him because he’s on earth. At a party.

JEMIMA:	Which party?

GRAHAM:	(D) Your leaving party.

JEMIMA:	My leaving party which I didn’t attend because John had sent me on a five year mission to Pluto?

GRAHAM:	(D) Yes. Look, it’s nothing personal… We just got chatting and kind of clicked. So we’ve been seeing a bit of each other ever since.

JEMIMA:	It does feel a bit personal. 

GRAHAM:	(D) How come?

JEMIMA:	Because the man who sent me on a half decade trip to end of the galaxy and back without consultation is now copping off with my boyfriend. Pop those two facts in bed together and it all feels a bit premeditated. 

GRAHAM:	(D) Look Jemima, I knew you’d feel that way. But you know it isn’t, really… don’t you? In your heart of hearts?

JEMIMA: 	I think…

GRAHAM:	(D) Yes?

JEMIMA:	I think…

GRAHAM:	(D) Yes?

JEMIMA:	I think I need a bit of time alone. 

GRAHAM:	(D) Well that’s lucky because…

JEMIMA:	End call Pod. 

POD:	Call ended... And stay out!

F/X: 					COMMUNICATOR SWITCHES OFF. 

PAUSE

POD:	Are you ok?

JEMIMA:	No Pod. I don’t think I am. 

POD:	Do you want me to put some sausages on?

JEMIMA:	Yes please, Pod. 

F/X:		BRASS BAND MUSIC, LOUD.

END