Reading
Open fileNeed to knowMy clearance

The script

1,293

Ink on metal: 'BUTANE', and a column of dates. Last refilled three days ago.

Lines1

Intimidating structures, humbled in their prime.

Lines1

Iridescent with petrol contamination.

Lines1

Iron Petal IV was playing on the television -- our heroine finally had Johnny Khasm at her mercy on the peak of Mount Raa. Karolina's foot…

Lines24

It all comes down to you, Repentful Spy. Ninety-six years of human suffering -- most of which you weren't even alive for -- it's time…

Lines36

It all happens in milliseconds. A sharp blow to your elbow, the flashlight flying out of your grasp...

Lines160

It appears to be the news, except the anchor is wearing a brown paper bag on his head.

Lines1

It doesn't have to be so hard. You wrestle with the guilt, the shame. But if you just said 'the world did this to me' -- some of that…

Lines22

It may be able to take your weight.

Lines1

It must be an extremely valuable ladder to elicit such measures.

Lines1

It rains rust when the wind picks up.

Lines1

It took significant force to knock over this chair.

Lines1

It's 96 now. There are still day labourers, and students, and soldiers, but they no longer burn calendars or shout slogans in the streets.…

Lines32

It's a long way down from here.

Lines1

It's chilly up here.

Lines1

It's never off. PSEUDOPOD has already absorbed a lifetime's worth of daytime TV.

Lines1

It's time to begin. Turn the scalpel inwards and then peer into the orifice you have made.

Lines27

Itchy.

Lines1

Its function long forgotten, the mysterious lever calls out to be used.

Lines1

Janitorial supplies would be kept in the basement, not up here.

Lines1

Jump.

Lines1

Junkmail from a tuk-tuk repair company.

Lines1

Keep up your hardcore ways and they'll have you in a bulletproof box, facing a tribunal for the crime of 'getting results'.

Lines32

Kilometres of celluloid, enough to envelope Portofiro in one vast film.

Lines1

Labours of love in thread and silk.

Lines1

Laminate flooring peels away to reveal metal beneath.

Lines1

Landslide. Unstable foundations.

Lines1

Large glass eyes, milky with cataracts, stare back.

Lines1

Last inspected: 77. The machine-spirit long departed.

Lines1

Last week's paper.

Lines1

Layers of graffiti, an artistic turf war.

Lines1

Leaves and trash jumble the gutter -- a decaying bird's nest.

Lines1

Light glints off shards of broken glass.

Lines1

Light refracts within your cornea; you are someone else, somewhere else.

Lines91

Like deep sea diver gear for immersions into the black depths of sedation.

Lines1

Like the stem of a wilting tulip, the girder bends towards the pit.

Lines1

Linens on the sofa. Someone's been working nights.

Lines1

Lineworker gloves, swollen and cracked. Signs of heavy kerosene exposure.

Lines1

Little plastic cosmonaut figurines, oddly familiar.

Lines1

Living waters rush upward, stolen from the sea.

Lines1

Loading platform ahead.

Lines1

Locked steel shutters, a door slammed shut even before your arrival.

Lines1

Locked. You're not getting out this way.

Lines1

Locks on every drawer in the desk.

Lines1

Look, around your feet.

Lines94

Looking out over the main hall, you try to imagine what it would have looked like thirty-six years ago.

Lines83

Looks climbable.

Lines1

Looks dirty, but the seams are spotless. That suit's inspected regularly.

Lines1

Looks like a gift shop.

Lines1

Looks like a good spot for an undisturbed public breakdown.

Lines1
The script - ZERO PARADES - Page 13 of 26