Cast:

Susan “Mother” Mitchell: Ann Dowd 

Susan “Fanatic” Mitchell: Kathy Bates

Susan “Executor” Mitchell: Angelica Huston 

Morgen: Jared Leto

Phil Shope: bald Peter Sarsgaard

Jan Erikson: fat Christian Bale, à la Vice

After disposing of their prisoner, the Neogenian tastemakers enjoy a brief respite: a moment to dine, converse, and philosophize. They bask in the glow of Neogenian self-righteousness and imagine themselves growing stronger; they relish the perks of living in their own world and answering to no one. The outside world mistreats them no longer. At long last — they have a reality to define for themselves and to call their own.

FADE IN

Interior – Neogenian Content House – Communal Dining Table

JAN and PHIL sit across from each other at a varnished dining table. Jan’s neck fat covers Loppy once again, flesh sewn back to its normal position. Phil no longer dons Guy’s face, but some blood remains in a few scattered markings. The two enjoy an oven-baked roast.

We see that they’re not alone at the table. They’re joined by SUSAN MITCHELL, seated at the table’s head. The form of her body appears to be normal: human, female, dressed in a black rumple fabric blouse. But atop her shoulders sits a repulsive transhuman contraption made of metal and flesh, grafted into her body. This bulky thing sits where a normal head should be.

Yet, there is a face. Three of them to be exact, all around her “head.” This “head” of hers is a mechanized swivel apparatus, with three distinct, locking positions. Each of these positions (separated by 120 degrees) corresponds to a different personality, which has a different face. The faces are MOTHER, FANATIC, and EXECUTOR, and each one is a fragmented aspect of Susan Mitchell as a whole. Splinters of human bone and mounds of gristle form a tall cage that frames and surrounds each face. With every internally-controlled switch between personalities comes the distinctive sound of the device spinning and locking in place: Whhhrrrrr CLICK.

Mother is the current configuration. Mother has prepared the eye of round roast with lemon, rosemary, thyme, and garlic. The remnants of Guy’s hindquarters steam on a decorative tray mid-table, still hot from cooking. Carved slices sit on each of their plates. Jan eats ravenously, often forgetting to breathe between bites. A fourth plate sits empty near Susan, lonely and unattended.

Mother: So, Jan, how’s it going? How are things with Galloping Gonad?

Jan [chewing]: Ehh… pretty good. My fans really seem to like me doing react content.

Phil: We all do. We all love and support you. You are literally never wrong.

Jan: I just need to get my Patreon numbers up. I could really use the income from that.

Mother [patronizing]: Yeahh. I know. Life can be hard when you can’t pay the bills.

Jan: Do you know, Susan?

Mother: Well, no… yes, I mean, I’ve heard… I follow several TikTok accounts and they’ve got… It’ll make you go, “wow.” Heartbreaking stories… I feel awful for people who can’t clothe or feed themselves… uhm… my heart just breaks for them…it makes you realize how important New Terra is… and why it’s important we vote… and unite. Jeffrey Marsh is so beautiful.

Phil: I voted. And I love Jeffrey Marsh too.

Susan reaches across the table to Phil’s bald head. [Pat. Pat.] His sweaty skin clings to her hand for longer than it should. She moves her hand down to behind his ear. [Scratch. Scratch.] Her lengthy false nails arouse a deep pleasure in him. (If only she could enter him fully and grate his flesh from the inside. “Put your sweet malady in me, m’lady.”)

Phil (Cont’d) [quietly; to Mother]: I want to be flogged, mommy.

Mother [sympathetically]: Yeahhh. I breed, therefore I am. I flog, therefore I am divine.

Jan: I think I’m gonna start selling branded merchandise through my Patreon. I already bottle Loppy’s excretions. Why not sell it? “Loppy Lube.” It’d be real useful for new Neogenians.

Mother [half-listening]: Ah! Love it.

Like an apparition, MORGEN appears unannounced and enters behind Susan.

Morgen: Hello, all.

As if recording a studio applause track for Morgen’s sitcom entrance, Susan, Jan and Phil all greet him with uproarious clapping and cheering.

Whhhrrrrr CLICK

Fanatic: Ohmygod, Morgen! Hi! We missed you so much. [Laughs.] You startled me! Phil’s pupils dilate. His eyes get a glossy twinkle. He melts internally.

Phil: Why hello there, Morgen. We always love it when you can join us! We do realize you’re very busy, though. We’re here to support you… however we can.

(Morgen secretly hated Phil. The amazing dough-boy. The human equivalent of a room temperature stick of butter. A cloying voice that drips with lovestruck devotion like foul syrup. “I’m going to be sick. You don’t turn me on. Who is ‘we’? Speak for yourself, you cowardly, bald lapdog.”)

Morgen pulls up a chair beside Susan and sits in front of the empty plate. Susan begins transferring a few cuts of Guy from the tray to Morgen’s plate.

Whhhrrrrr CLICK

Mother [to Morgen]: You need to eat. 

[Morgen annoyed.] Neogenianism needs you to eat.

Morgen [takes bite]: So, quick update. I think you’re all aware of that journalist who’s been causing problems… Victor. I’ve been dealing with him for months now. He’s made all these outrageous claims about me and our movement. [The others nod.] Well, I guess he also has two associates. I’m pretty sure they think they represent objective reality or something. I don’t know. They’re crazy. They’ve been trying to break in here. They’re looking for a way in. Which is stupid.

Phil [haughty]: Hah! Well, good luck with that! They wanna intrude, so they can feel important.

Morgen [pondering]: It’s going to be very difficult, to hack into my construct.

Mother: “Objective reality”?! Their reality is hate and destruction. Uh, no, thank you! Thieves come only to steal and kill and destroy.

Jan: Like… there’s no hugs in their reality.

Mother: Or quokkas.

Morgen: They want to destroy us. Outside worlders never mind their own business. Haters seek to destroy life-givers.

Jan: Bah. They’re jealous of our success and our audience. Like… leave us alone… buttholes. (Jan resists the urge to say “my success” and “my audience.”)

Phil [to Morgen]: They say you’re a narcissist… [baffled] if you can believe that.

Whhhrrrrr CLICK

Fanatic: Ohmygod Morgen is one of the least narcissistic people I know!

Jan: Dude, a narcissist is like Andrew Tate. I’m an Andrew Tate expert. Morgen is not Andrew Tate. The end. That’s logic, bitch.

Fanatic: I had a scary scary experience with a narcopath. I know their DNA. Morgen is not that. He doesn’t want the attention; he’s the only one who stepped up and actually made The Content House! The others only talk! [Incredulous.]

Whhhrrrrr CLICK

Executor [to Morgen]: These are the people who slandered you? Give me their names.

Morgen: Their names are possibly made up. Notice how everything they do is deceitful, done in secret… anyway, it’s Victor Veritas, Johnathan Judgment, and Tammy Talio. They’re in cahoots.

Jan: What is this … the friggin’ Marvel universe? Is Peter Parker right around the corner?

Phil: A self-important group of evil, racist, transphobic psychopaths who use false names and spread lies about our Morgen.

Morgen: Like I said, just a heads up. It’s very unlikely they’ll find a way in. But, if they do, we’ll be prepared. Everyone knows their roles. We all know what to do.

Phil [nodding; to Morgen]: The construct is all that matters. You must be protected at all costs.

Morgen produces a large steel hook (the same one we saw Terror using on the female victim earlier) and sets it on the table in front of him.

Executor [to Morgen]: Did you sharpen it? Morgen [eyes roll]: Of course.

Jan: Damn it’s gettin’ real, bitches. Like… [voice trembling] in all seriousness, I’m kinda afraid. I fear for y’all’s safety… For real, like… I’m honestly worried that an encounter with this bloodthirsty maniac Victor might kill us.

Phil: Aww no, Jan! I never want you to feel fear! We’re armed with reason, my beautiful. I’m ready.

Phil places the Morgul-dagger he took from BP on the table in a manner directly mirroring Morgen.

Executor: They are preparing. Don’t get comfortable. [Looks at Jan.] Be sober-minded; be watchful. Your adversary the devil prowls around like a lion, seeking someone to devour.

Jan: Animals. Sheesh.

Phil: Morgen, it’s through you and your name that we’re gonna push down these clowns. We’re gonna be all right!

Morgen: I want to say that I admire all of your resilience. We’re under attack and pressure from the most toxic people imaginable… that’s not easy. I hope you all realize how strong you are. Not many could endure this hardship, yet everyone in this house continues to gather us the food we need to survive. To still… believe in this reality… to create unity in those circumstances. It’s a selfless act. You’re all amazing minds and should be proud.

Phil begins to drool involuntarily. (It’s suddenly very warm in the dining room. His heart beats like a driving floor tom. He resists the urge to strip away all of his clothing and douse himself in Loppy Lube. He so wants to be naked right now.)

Phil: We are so honored, Morgen. You built this [indicates house] and gave us a home. You’re our shepherd and carpenter.

Morgen [pleased]: With my eyes closed I was able to create another reality. 

Whhhrrrrr CLICK

Fanatic [to Morgen]: Aww thanks! But I’m much more impressed with you through all of this. You’ve had to endure so much. You’re so strong and autonomous. [Mesmerized.]

(Jan doesn’t like this.)

Phil [to Morgen]: I agree with Susan. You’re incredibly brave. Why do they hate us? It’s like ugliness despises beauty.

Morgen: I don’t know. I’m so confused.

Phil [gazing at Morgen]: Without beauty, ugliness would hold no meaning. Without you, they are meaningless.

Morgen: Beautifully stated, Phil. Great job.

Phil’s veins twitch and bulge as he struggles to hold back the milky Vesuvius in his pants.

Fanatic [to Phil]: I’ll tell you why. [To Morgen.] It’s because they fear you. Their world hasn’t encountered someone as autonomous as you before. [Proud.] You don’t behave in the way they want you to, and they’re afraid. They’re scared of who you truly are.

Morgen [nods approvingly]: I am. I was. I always will be. Fanatic [transfixed by Morgen]: You are the coming storm. (Phil vibrates with flustered intensity. “The cumming storm.”) Whhhrrrrr CLICK

Executor: A flood to drown the wicked. [Sinks teeth into roasted flesh.]

Phil: Neogenianism is so much stronger than the outside world. They hold no power here.

Morgen: I am eternal divine motion. I am the wheel upon which their bones snap and their muscles tear. For those who wish to attack me and my designs, I am the bringer of the endless night… they will find there is no dawn in my world. There is no good. There is no evil. There is only me.

Phil [attempts to hide erection]: Fire.

Executor: Do they know who they’re fucking with?

Phil: Oneselves, armed with the knowledge of oneflesh. [Sanctimonious.] 

Morgen [quoting Mary Shelley]: “Beware; for I am fearless, and therefore powerful.”

Whhhrrrrr CLICK

Fanatic [to Morgen]: I love it when you use the words of powerful women. Morgen: We are the witches. We are the heretics.

Fanatic [nods]: We need a matriarchy. I’ve been saying this forever. 

Phil: I only date Neogenians. Neogenian men are non-toxic.

Morgen: I want to move away from this term “men.”

Phil: Yes, you’re so right.

Jan [tenderly itching her double chin]: The outside world has some real monstrosities. Some real cis-het freaks. Just tryin’ to pull you into their delusion. I’m so lucky I’ve been able to hold on to my sanity.

Whhhrrrrr CLICK

Mother [comforting; to Jan]: Yeahhh. It’s hard being the rational one. It’s hard being righteous. They’re like little children.

Morgen: The insane despise the sane.

Everyone nods.

Phil: The toxic haters plot against the righteous… and gnash their teeth at them.

Jan: I wish Buffy could meet this Victor Vegetable guy. He’d totally gnash his teeth at that butthole. [Cackles.]

Phil: And furiously jack off on him. [Chuckles.] Maybe they will meet someday. All the more reason for Buff to rest up and charge his batteries.

Mother: Aw, I wish I got to speak more with Buffalo Philly before you put him to bed. He’s so sweet. He’s like too cute to be real. [Laughs.] He reminds me of like, a hairless, greasy quokka.

Morgen: I admire his esoteric knowledge. He’s deeply rooted in occult tradition.

Jan: Last time I checked, he was deeply rooted in his delicious skin pants

HAaaH.

(Morgen is unamused by this joke, which he interprets as possibly mocking him. He didn’t take kindly to being mocked. Was she implying he was stupid? He had myriad ways of dealing with insolence. Perhaps her neck blubber could be pulled back over her entire face and hooked on the stupid devil horns on top of her stupid head. Then no one would have to see her face or hear her talk ever again. No more “jokes.” Would he be able to cut off her air entirely with this procedure? Such thoughts excited him. “Mock me again, cunt.”)

Morgen: Ha, ha. Good joke.

Mother [changing subject]: So Jan you wanted to go live tomorrow and talk about the shadow? That’s a really important topic that I think a lot of people need help with. I think it’ll be really welcome… uhm… people love hearing you talk about dreams and shadow… they’ll be excited to hear us talk about it. What did you want to cover?

Jan: The older I get, I realize how important it is to trust your shadow. Like, Loppy is a big part of me, and I believe in myself, okay? Sue me. We can’t be control freaks with unconscious shit. Loppy… completes me. We work. We express ourselves. We leave an impression. He knows how to be strong when I’m weak. If I keep up this shadow work, Loppy and his friends will finally be able to take the wheel completely. [Sighs.] I’ll be free.

Morgen: I’m proud of you. That’s not an easy task, believe me. 

Mother: Yeahhh. I had to go cosmic to grasp that, but I finally did.

Jan: Loppy wants to make people hole, just like we do. Even his [indicates roast] mental fart clouds couldn’t stop the fun.

Phil winks and blows Jan a kiss from across the table.

Phil [eyes twinkling; to Morgen and Susan]: Do you two have any tales of shadow expression you wanna share?

Mother: Well… I neutered my chihuahua Brian last week. I really tried to pretend like I didn’t enjoy it at first, but then I remembered my three perspectives, and I went, “Hey! Who are you, where are you, and why are you here?!” Then it just sort of clicked. I’m here to dominate, correct, control… make hole. These people don’t know what’s good for them… it takes a lot of patience.

Whhhrrrrr CLICK

Executor: It was very stimulating. Absolute power over frailty. You hold their soul in your cosmic fist. There is a great pleasure when your god-will overtakes another’s weak will.

Phil [nodding furiously; keeping one eye on Morgen]: You consume their vulnerability.

Morgen: Yes, absolutely. Consumption is key. Take this person. [Indicates slice of roast; takes bite.] It isn’t even really accurate to say “person.” He’s a snack. We are the sin eaters… dwelling in the dark of night… consuming delicious ignorance… and bringing the outside world one step closer to light. We will save them. They will know the Neogenian truth. And it will make them hole. By killing the illusion of the other, we align ourselves with the divine… this is purpose. Our purpose. We are the vital ones.

Jan: Killing people’s stupid parts is fun.

Morgen: It is. Killing the outside world is fun. Eating them is how we remove obstacles to New Terra and raise consciousness. We have no tolerance for obstacles. Don’t feel bad for taking pleasure in dominating others. No mercy is the way to live. We are the willed ones. We are the terrors.

In the distance, Terror of Men moans from behind a locked bedroom door

— Morgen’s room. The creature stirs. Terror scratches at the door, growing restless. (“Let me out, Morgen.”)

Morgen (Cont’d) [hushed; to Susan]: By the way, me and my cosmic fist wanna do some things to you later…

Whhhrrrrr CLICK

Fanatic: [blushing] Ohhhh, stop!

(Phil is overtaken with envy. Sexual frustration consumes him.) Jan sees the sad state of this pathetic man and leans over to him.

Jan [whispering]: I know, trust me. But jealousy does weird shit to ya if you let it. Let it go.

Morgen: But don’t forget about the joy of love. Love is a unifying function. And I am a loving god. I take no pleasure in the death of human cattle, but rather, joy in their contributions to the new world.

Fanatic [composing herself]: It’s agape love. Phil: Holes agape, begging for us.

Fanatic [to Morgen]: You haven’t even shared your shadow expression story. C’mon, I know you’ve got one. You’re much more autonomous and advanced with this than we are.

Jan glares.

Morgen [whines]: You always put me on the spot, Susan. [Chuckles.] Yesterday, I killed three homeless vagrants lingering around my apartment and stripped them of their skin. It went into my personal collection. The smell was… rough, but it was worth it for all involved. I am the Freak, Monster, Witch and Murderer. And the world shall fear me and bow to me.

The distant scratching at the bedroom door becomes louder. Phil [in ecstasy]: Hail One Flesh.

Morgen: Hail Unity.

Jan: Hail New Terra.

Phil: Separate in expression, united in flesh. [Locks eyes with Morgen.] My flesh is your flesh, and yours is mine.

Ignoring Phil, Morgen takes a bite of Guy. Whhhrrrrr CLICK

Mother [to Morgen]: You minimized suffering though, right?

Morgen: Oh uh… yep. Absolutely. That’s what I did. It was a favor if you think about it. They unconsciously longed for me. To reunite with me. I could hear them moaning for me. Wanderers always find me, one way or another. And they realize I have been looking for them as well. I come bearing the gift of unity. All I ask is for a humble donation in exchange for admittance to the hall of absolute mirrors.

Phil: Donate, and become hole.

Morgen: Their corpses certainly became hole, and I certainly fucked the shit out of them, their assholes and all – especially their assholes.

Jan and Susan double over laughing.

Phil [to Morgen]: What? Why? People like that don’t deserve your—

Without a moment’s hesitation, Morgen turns to Phil and backhands him across the face.

Morgen: Wake up! Sacrifice the sheep and become god! Phil [shocked; feelings hurt]: I’m s-sorry.

Morgen [adjusting hair]: That’s all right.

Phil [whimpering]: H-have I upset you, Morgen? [Rubs red face.] 

Morgen: Not at all, Phil. I’m just passionate about world change. Mother: We all are.

Whhhrrrrr CLICK

Fanatic: Morgen is one of the most passionate and selfless and kind people I know.

Morgen [changing subject]: But yeah, that sounds like a great stream you have planned! When’re you going live?

Jan: At three.

Morgen: I’ll be there, I think. I’m so happy for The Neogenian Source. You all are really coming into your own.

Fanatic [to Morgen]: Woww. Thank you so much. You know you are welcome anytime, and everyone loves seeing you! We wouldn’t be able to do this if it weren’t for you.

Whhhrrrrr CLICK

Mother [to Morgen]: Thank you! We all work really hard! I could use a vacation! [Laughs.]

(Morgen’s arrangement with Susan is purely transactional from his perspective, but sometimes she forgot her place. “The hag wants a vacation, huh? She’s grown comfortable. Complacent. Forgotten how much I sacrifice…how much I deserve. Maybe I can arrange a tripartite vacation of sorts. Suzy needs a vacation from herself. Slice off each of her three faces and hang them as wall decorations in different parts of The House.

How will she cope with eternal separation from me? Cut off from salvation, but still existing as a reminder for the others. Who else wants a vacation?”)

Jan: I nicknamed my butthole “The Neogenian Source,” like Susan suggested.

Phil: Same, Jan.

Jan: It’s also my “Innerstar anchor.” I pinch it every time I need a reminder of my sacred cause. I am self-cause… and my cause is myself… I am my own cause… I am my own sacred cause. Damn, that’s good.

Morgen: Well said.

Mother: Ooh! Make a video about that.

Jan: Whenever I poo and pinch one off, I’m reminded of my eternal nature. I remember the possibilities of New Terra. There’s like… these shockwaves of cosmic oneness running through my entire body. I almost don’t want to wash my hands after. I don’t want to sanitize such a beautiful moment, y’know? Bathroom time is my favorite time. Unimaginable beauty drops directly into existence… straight from my “Source.”

Phil: If you remember those Interaction Tuesdays we used to do in the outside world, where I would pass out “The Unity Document” and spread the good word at Starbucks and whatnot—

Mother: I loved when you did that, Phil.

Phil: Me too. But while I was doing that, I would sometimes offer to show people my “Neogenian Source” if they needed some extra convincing. What they didn’t know though, is that my “Source” might get hungry and swallow them up! [Chuckles.] But by the time they’d figured that part out, they’d reached my event horizon. A lot of people resist my “Source,” for some reason.

Jan: Meh. Most people aren’t ready for our truth. Stompy bumfucks.

Phil: You just can’t convey — no matter how hard you try — the absolute beauty and elegance of your Source to the outside world. They won’t understand. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve taken someone home, gagged them, and said, “Here! Look into the eye of my ‘Source’! I will show you how we are all one!!” They don’t want it. You’re so right, Jan. I’m trying to set them free, but they don’t want my truth. They don’t want my “Source.”

Jan: I stomp on droopy buttholes.

Morgen: That’s great. The anus is a very powerful metaphor—

Suddenly, a cacophonous racket begins at the front door of The Neogenian Content House. People outside the door are using a SAWZALL to cut the deadbolt. The house’s entire foundation seems to tremble from this.

Everyone at the dining table jumps.

Mother: Ohh GOD! Oh my god! Morgen! They’re trying to come in! Holy — Oh god. Oh fuck. Go away —

Whhhrrrrr CLICK

Executor: Shut up, bitch. For once, do everyone a favor, and just shut the fuck up.

Morgen: And here we go. Be strong, everyone. The outside world has come to test us.

Executor fishes out her two favorite tools from her pockets: an ice cream scoop and garden shears. (She was quite skilled at cutting off tongues and scooping out eyeballs. She found great enjoyment in these activities.)

Executor: Remember, these aren’t people. Don’t consider them people, and the task will be much easier.

Morgen: Correct. We don’t wrestle against flesh and blood, but against the spiritual forces of evil in Neogenian places.

Morgen regards Executor intently, and with great admiration. (“She’s loyal to me. She’ll always put me first.”) He puts his hands on her shoulders.

Morgen (Cont’d) [to Executor]: You shall refute every tongue that rises against you in judgment.

Jan forcefully tears down the sutured flesh of her indomitable neck fat once again. It collapses like the plump wall of fleshy Jericho. Loppy voices its approval with a guttural GgrreEGHh.

Morgen (Cont’d): Think of who you are, where you are, and why you’re here. You’re much better than them. You have… purpose. You’re here to actualize New Terra. They are here to try and stop you.

Jan: AaRgh! No one tells my shadow what to do. Not even me!

Morgen: I built Neogenianism. I willed it. The hate and bigotry of my enemies will not prevail against it. Fuckers. When will they learn?

Executor: Endless night descends on them.

Morgen: In darkness and concealment and secrecy, without light or guide, they’ll find the suffering place.

Phil: Annddd… I’m rock hard.

Phil grips the Morgul-dagger in his left hand and his flesh dagger in his right. (He would follow Morgen. Follow him into the deepest recesses of the endless night. This was Phil’s quest. He thought himself a brave Grail Knight. A heart full of nobility and a sword in each hand.)

Morgen looks down at the steel hook on the table, imagining things. (Puncturing flesh. Erotic death.) The smooth alloy seduces him through the eyes and holds him hypnotized. The instrument whispers naughty things to him. The locked bedroom door restraining Terror of Men suddenly opens on its own.

Like a conductor just before the start of a performance, Morgen looks at Susan, Jan, and Phil — his orchestra — with an encouraging look of anticipation. He can’t hide the wild excitement in his eyes. He grips the hook, tightly and with readiness. The clamor of the intruders’ sawing intensifies. (Veritas, Judgment, and Talio would never leave him alone. They hated everything about him. “I will never fall victim to their abuse… I will survive their hell.” They would never go away quietly. They would make their presence known at any cost. And they were nearly inside.) Terror of Men whispers to Morgen via their mental link. (“Show them your scars, Morgen.”)

Morgen [imitating Anakin Skywalker]: This is where the fun begins. CUT TO BLACK