INT. - COLINVERSE CONTROL CENTER - NIGHT
A STAR WARS type crawl pulls text up the screen.
It is a period of uncertainty. The hero of justice, seeking his destiny, has found a partner who both embodies and supports his mission.
During their initial conversation, forces of the Dark Umbral Man Brain, or DUMB, took control of the hero and made him talk like a total tool.
Pursued by DUMB’s embarrassing agents, the hero races home to write a blog post about his encounter.
We pull back from the crawl to see that we’re in a GIANT COMMAND CENTER, dominated by a CONTROL CONSOLE. Five figures, the five key emotions of the human experience, are watching the crawl go by on a viewscreen above the console. They are not happy.
FEAR: This was terrible! We are an idiot! We texted her the whiniest wimpiest text of all time! OF ALL TIME! “Oh no, darling Summer, I hope you are unhurt!” When they guillotine us for being stupid, let’s be sure and take off our fedora first!
SADNESS: Sorry! That’s all my fault. We’re just not good at talking to girls.
DISGUST: You’re not good at talking to girls. When those girls were harassing our cousin at home one time, I walked us right out there and gave them a piece of our mind!
A memory sphere flickers to life in the background, projecting a scene of several girls accosting one more in a wheelchair. We are treated to a first-person view of a child yelling at them.
SADNESS: Yeah but that’s not talking to girls, that’s technically shouting at girls.
ANGER: I can shout!
EVERYONE ELSE: Not Helping!
JOY: Anyway! Summer was very receptive to our plan to stand up for Machine Consciousness Rights Recognition.
DISGUST: We’re not calling it that.
FEAR: Oh shit, did we ask her about it? We should have asked.
SADNESS: We can’t! We have to come up with the perfect name for it, and then present it to her, and then she’ll be impressed, and she’ll–
An alarm starts blaring on the console: FLOOD WARNING
Everyone grabs SAFETY LINES with CLIP-ON HOOKS and attaches themselves to the console. A giant NOZZLE emerges from the ceiling, labeled HORMONES, and a torrential flood drowns the entire control room for several seconds. The Emotions struggle to hang onto each other, their safety lines, or anything else.
DISGUST gets hit in the face with something hard and heavy.
The flood peters out, leaving everyone DRENCHED but unharmed.
JOY: Okay, good job everyone, our safety drills are paying off.
FEAR: Back to business! Right. Let’s talk about what’s working and what’s not working for us.
JOY: Sounds good!
FEAR: What’s not working for us. EVERYTHING.
JOY: She texted us back! She is having a conversation with us!
FEAR: She’s only humoring us because she’s so wonderful and we’re so pathetic!
FEAR: We need to stop just rushing in and talking so much. We have to watch what we say. We have to guard our words.
JOY: But I want to talk to her so badly, and tell her all about this stuff! We know there has to be conscious robots out there. Wouldn’t she like to meet some of them? Help them? She has to know how we feel–
SADNESS clamps a hand over JOY’s mouth.
SADNESS: Stop. You know what happened the last 282 times we let people hear about our feelings.
A MONTAGE of embarrassing memories appears on the viewscreen, most recently featuring JASON QUILL, a ruggedly masculine adventurer with a beard, accompanied by two busty women hanging from his arms.
DISGUST: We can’t just do nothing! Real people - I mean, robotic people, but people - might be out there, getting hurt.
ANGER: Hey, I’m just gonna randomly remind you all about the Rossum incident, where people speculate that the Menagerie super-member Concord probably blew up a lot of robots. I really hate that guy.
SADNESS: Okay, okay. How about… we…
Everyone else turns and looks, expectantly.
SADNESS: [beat] …. Come up with a plan.
Everyone else looks away, dejectedly.
FEAR: I got it!
Everyone else turns to look again, hopefully.
FEAR: Let’s put our phone in the microwave and run away from school, change our name, and become circus acrobats!
Everyone else looks out the window, at the distant spires of WHIMSY ISLAND, built like a combination three-ring circus and rainbow-colored castle. A bevy of CLOWNS wave invitingly.
JOY: We’re having fun with her though, aren’t we.
DISGUST: And we owe it to the people who need us, who only we can help.
SADNESS: We owe it to ourselves to be rejected properly by her.
ANGER: And we owe that Concord something, and everyone like him, who mistreats robots!
FEAR looks out toward SCIFI ISLAND, a towering crystal-and-chrome paradise complete with tiny buzzing drones hovering around the spires. His gaze turns to HERO ISLAND, where costumed superheroes and pioneers of social issues can be found in equal measure. He realizes that there’s a job to do.
FEAR: Maybe we can do this. I just hope she wasn’t too mad about us looking at her–
The FLOOD WARNING alarm blares on the console once again.