//------------------------------// // 1. A Bumpy Entree // Story: Nation Shall Speak Peace Unto Nation // by Dan The Man //------------------------------// Intro Scene – The Helicopter “A Bumpy Entrée”   (Background Music Cue)   (An RAAF CH-47 Chinook Helicopter’s passenger section. Emergency Lighting gives a faint glim over the fairly dim metal-ribcaged, cable-packing hallway that is the interior. All characters and some flight crew personnel and DS Agents sitting in strapped camouflaged chairs, staring out of the intensely bright portholes at the gorgeous, colourful atmosphere outside. A camera aimed through a porthole stands attached to a bulky tripod. A man keeps adjusting it every few seconds.) •  Finch: *Wearing a bright blue security vest over his quintessentially formal dark grey business suit, packing a stack of document portfolios, he reads a small book* Doyle was right… •  Hartfield: *Sitting across of him, fumbling with his vest trying loosen it* Mr. Finch? •  Matuszek: *Sitting next to Finch across a porthole, skimming through a folder of medieval paintings, but eager for a conversation* What did you mean? •  Finch: I was just saying that Arthur Conan Doyle was right. I’m re-reading my copy of “The Lost World”. I knew it would be somehow useful in the future. •  Matuszek: Now that is one nice comparison. Yes, it’s very fitting… •  Hartfield: What is “The Lost World”? A Scy-Fy novel? •  Matuszek: Sort of. It’s a book about scientists who discover a prehistoric animal colony. •  Hartfield: Hell, that’s fitting. *Checks his watch and taps it* And the battery’s dying down again. Seems like this atmosphere is messing with my watch. *halts* Now that sounds just silly. •  Kinsman: *partially standing, hanging on to a ceiling railing* It messes up the instruments and compasses every single time we fly over this area. We have committed to maps a long time ago.  We have no radio, no signalling. Only limited radio connection, but even that’s scarce. *hears his co-pilot calling and quickly heads towards cockpit* ‘cuse me… •  Finch: *shuts book, leans toward porthole* Just like Yorkshire. *grins* I swear to God, this looks like Yorkshire. Only this time in colour. •  Laukkinen: *peeps through his camera and wipes the lens* Say so, uh, but I have never… positively never seen landscapes like those. As if the colour tv-set was overworking. Bright and intensive sun and reflectings. Like, seeing the environment with a new set of sensitive eyes. •  Hartfield: Kinda like a totally different channel on TV. Or reality. •  Laukkinen: Moderate climate, needle tree forests,… like Europe, really. •  Matuszek: *Inhales and exhales audibly once; she wants to get to the point* Gentlemen, please. Let us focus on this task: *flips through her reference album* Listen closely to what I have listed in my portfolio: “Unicorns and Pegasi”, “The Fountain of Youth”, “Deities of the Sun and the Moon”, “Alchemism”, “Levitation and Teleportation”, “Mythical Serpentines and Reptiles of the Ancient and Medieval Ages” “Anthropomorphism in Eurasian Mythology”, “Stellar Constellations and Astrology”, “Greek and Roman Archeomythology”. *combs through her hair with her fingers*  Can you please tell me what I just listed here?   (Finch and Hartman and Laukkinen and Kinsman look at her, are a little nonplussed) •  Finch: Dr. Matuszek? •  Matuszek: *persistently* Please answer my question. What have I just listed for you? •  Hartfield: *grins* reference material, Dr. Matuszek. •  Matuszek: That is exactly my point. *inhales and exhales once more before continuing* Let me recap our situation. •  Finch: Please, Ms Matuszek, contain yourself. Hyperventilation has been known to make people nervous… •  Matuszek: *uptight* Gentlemen; We are on a diplomatic assistance mission to a recently acknowledged – no, recently found – region of the earth. One that has been lost for nearly one millennium. One with an intelligent civilisation. And the reference material that I was issued on their societal structure and existence… is about horses with wings and horns. •  Hartfield: *wants to think of a witty and sarcastic remark* Mmmh… Yes. •  Finch: This is a great day for how we define reality, Ms Matuszek. Don’t spoil it. We had this trip in preparation for three years. •  Matuszek: But I only had one year, Mr Finch. One year of research and gathering old medieval Germanic prints, most of whom were considered outdated in the very time they were written. I have reasoned with myself before, you know. I have reasoned that I am a realist, a serious scientist who only strives to be the best, free of all prejudices and unserious beliefs. *ironic voice* But since three days, those times are officially over, as I stood in the UN and proudly declared to the … no. I cannot say it. •  Finch: Say it. The second time is always the hardest. I, for one, did it after taking valerian pills. •  Matuszek: *sighs, begins chanting the hypothesis* “We are to make contact with a society within a country isolated from the rest of the planet possibly for millennia. The population consists not of humans, but of evolved yet genuine members of the equines, living in a society to be considered of equal, if not superior maturity to that of most recognised nations. Many members have been considered mythological creatures for centuries, but had last genuine contact with the human society as far back as 700 years. The society has adapted traits and abilities that border on supernaturalism, evolved as direct result to geophysical aspects.” •  Finch: “The Lost World of Mythology”. Think about it. Other observant people had proven the existence of, say, Giant Squids, Okapis, Platypuses and the like. This… may be the biggest of such cases to date. We will re-write history. •  Matuszek: When you put it like that, it is still more than challenging. I find it, forgive my vocabulary, very moronic to ditch a group of diplomats in Terra Incognita only to add some spice to the first contact between two worlds. •  Hartfield: With all respect, Ms Matuszek, we are 15000 feet in the air, less than twenty minutes away from destination x. Are you really telling me that this is the right time to start doubting the logic behind this mission? •  Matuszek: Well, when have you started wondering about its logic? •  Hartfield: *scratches his chin* Let me put it like that, Ms Matuszek. I stopped wondering about it literally minutes before taking a seat riiight here *taps his seat in satisfaction*. I needed three sacred years to plan a routine. To get this whole mess of an idea to stop spinning around in my head and settle in the realism department. Planning and filing. It is virtually the only way I can make myself believe. Believe this, anyway. •  Finch: *to Hartfield* Really? I didn’t know that. I thought you were flexible. •  Hartfield: I am not allowing myself to be flexible for… claptrap. It would make me eccentric. And by God, I hate eccentrics. Are you an eccentric, Finch? •  Finch: *smiles calmly* No. As I said, I just took Valerian pills.  And they will wear off in five to ten minutes. •  Hartfield: *jokingly* Well, then God save us all from you. *remembers something important* Speaking of which… *clumsily takes out a pill box, and presses the now open end against his hand palm. In order not to draw too much attention, he asks Dr. Matuszek* On the other hand… Ms. Matuszek; dunno if this makes it any better for you, but you may be interested to know that this isn’t the “first contact” per se. •  Matuszek: *freezes* I’m sorry? *Hartfield and Finch look at her with a hint of a snarky tranquility for a while; she understands* Before I start asking you why I didn’t know; Mr. Hartfield, you mean that we have communicated with them once before? •  Hartfield: Not quite… *removes some pills form the box, quickly swallows them and resumes to the conversation* we did however attempt communication. A helicopter located one of the horses and managed to attract its attention. •  Matuszek: An RAAF helicopter? •  Hartfield: No, RNZF. According to the pilot’s testimony, he landed it, and managed to approach the horse. In the beginning, he heavily relied on basic hand communication.   •  Matuszek: *Um…* Basic hoof communication, you mean? •  Hartfield: *grins at the pun* I see what you did there. *harrumphs slightly* But the horse did understand! He then went a step further and carved a message into the earth. The horse was, he said, a little bit dumbfounded, but looked on, being all fascinated. Must have been a really awkward moment. He drew what he had seen from the helicopter: Fields, buildings, castles… •  Matuszek: *negatively surprised* A castle? That’s new to me. If that really was a castle, the equine society may be in fact closer to ours than I thought! Why hasn’t anybody told me about their dwellings? •  Finch: Ms. Matuszek, please… •  Matuszek: So what happened? •  Hartfield: The horse… *enjoys her envy* Get ready for that! •  Matuszek: *impatient* Yes?! •  Hartfield: The horse used it’s hooves, and drew a message back! •  Matuszek: Really? Wow, what kind of message? •  Hartfield: *Pulls a photograph from his coat pocket* See for yourself. •  Finch: One more reason to have signed the vow of silence. •  Matuszek: It’s… schön. •  Finch: I don’t know, it looks like a burning police car to me. •  Matuszek: Mr Finch, are you serious? This is definitely a horse’s head. With a horn. And a tiara. •  Finch: *points at the picture* How can you see all that? •  Matuszek: *smiles sarcastically* Firstly, it’s my job as a historian. And secondly, it’s probably because I’m a woman. •  Finch: Then what is that flaming stuff around the “head”? •  Matuszek. It must be its mane… a mane in the wind. •  Finch: Dramatic. Maybe it’s their community leader. A regent of a sort. Why else would it draw a tiara? •  Hartfield: That’s what the pilot also concluded. He drew an arrow to the picture, to symbolize that we would want to meet or approach her.  He also described ten suns, representing the 10 days time when he intended to return. We, uh, relieved him off this task. Today would be the afore-mentioned meet-up. •  Matuszek: So it in fact is official? I wonder what will await us. Haven’t you ever thought what they might think we are? Also mythical creatures, perchance? •  Finch: Then we better make a bleeding good impression. Chin up, smile, don’t attempt sit on them… •  Hartfield: Yeah, and don’t tell ‘em what some of their friends do in our society. Very important. You see, my dad owned a horse ranch once. •  Finch: Yes, that’s really important. Ms Matuszek, You may be aware that some things in cultural and scientific exchange may be vital, but nevertheless not… appreciated. *symbolically scratches his cheek* •  Matuszek: *slightly appalled* Well, Mr Finch, I will mention what is worthy of mentioning, and that may still be my field of expertise. Thank you very much. •  Finch: Be my guest. But you simply do not have a comparable diplomatic experience. •  Hartfield: Finch, take it easy with her. Don’t you know what massive amounts of work I put into convincing her to come along… •  Matuszek: I’m doing it solely for the curiosity alone, Mr. Hartfield. •  Kinsman *emerges from cockpit* Ladies and Gentlemen, five more minutes. It may get shaky, the terrain is probably unforgiving! Fasten your belts and raise your feet a bit. •  Finch: Well… good Sirs and ladies. God speed… *sits up straight*     (Concluding Music Cue)