[A brightly lit basement laundry room in MADISON’s building. JERRICA bustles between washer and dryer with purposeful energy. MADISON sits on a folding chair, absorbed in her phone.]
MADISON (without looking up from her phone):
Luigi’s lawyer crushing on him…(affecting Gen-Z slang) tea or nah?
JERRICA:
Puh-lease Madi, you’re not 19.
MADISON:
Our new gallery assistant is… if that.
JERRICA:
Bad influence. Get rid of her.
MADISON:
She’s the entire rapid response team to The Cut hit piece… our mentions are a dumpster fire.
(Beat) Thank god the mob is distracted by Luigi's lawyer. (Beat) Didn’t you want that?
JERRICA:
Well… aren’t you the rumor monger now.
MADISON:
Mongrel!? Rude.
(Beat)
Though…I low-key wish… Like if my midwestern mom had a thing with a Persian filmmaker and here I am.
JERRICA:
Monger, babe! Monger, like fishmonger.
MADISON (looking at her phone again, stretching her legs restlessly):
Still rude. What even is a monger?
[DJANGO enters, iced coffees in hand, navigating the space as he looks for somewhere to set them. Madison stands up to take one.]
MADISON:
Seriously… Django, what is it?
[Madison sits back down with her coffee.]
DJANGO (setting one near Jerrica and sipping his own):
Monger? Like cheesemonger?
I would guess… “to hustle” …to hustle cheese.
JERRICA:
To hustle for backstory.
(Beat)
You’ve got fine Irish plot armor… own it, babe.
MADISON:
I mean that’s me… literally.
JERRICA:
Go all in…get yourself an old-school Irish name. Máiréad. Right, Django?
DJANGO:
Mah-raid? I like it for Madi. Sounds like mermaid. Where’d you get that from?
JERRICA:
A book… Madi-slash-Máiréad belongs somewhere windswept and tragic.
MADISON:
You want me tragic? No happy endings for you then.
(In Irish brogue) Máiréad grew up by the ruins, and she’s got a beautiful voice, she has. But she sings only for the handsome Django. He plays the guitar only for her. Even if her dearest friend pretends not to notice, she does.
(Normal accent) Anyway, Django’s the monger — half Romanian, half South African, all oracle.
(In Irish brogue) Always with the conspiracies, this one.
JERRICA:
You’re so cute when you do that. Like, actually adorable.
[Jerrica moves behind Madison's chair and leans down to kiss her temple, hands resting possessively on her shoulders. Beat. She holds Django's gaze, challenging and territorial.]
JERRICA:
A new conspiracy. Good. I’m so bored of Kategate.
[While still looking at DJANGO, she tucks a strand of hair behind MADISON’s ear; her fingertip traces the line of MADISON’s jaw to the pulse at her neck.]
DJANGO:
(observing the two) A happy ending?
(Beat) Anyway…it’s not a conspiracy, lovebirds. It’s real. It’s happening.
MADISON:
Me personally…I liked him in his Kate phase, going all Sir Galahad to save Kate, not realizing she was the playah… I wish he’d rescued me when I was with Durbin.
(Beat) His latest conspiracy has major NPC vibes.
DJANGO:
Careful, monger girlies. Don’t mock NPCs.
MADISON: (mocking tone):
Their feelings will be hurt. Tell Jerr. It’s her thing.
JERRICA (ruffling Madison’s hair):
Fuck off Madi. I’m a main character and my feelings are literally unhurtable.
[Beat. Jerrica helps herself to Django’s coffee and moves to the dryer. Madison tracks her movement across the room.]
MADISON:
Tell her, DJ.
DJANGO:
Yesterday you said that Shaggy was pissed off with you. How did you know?
JERRICA:
What? I can just feel it. Why?
DJANGO:
But how do you know?
JERRICA:
Dogs are like us. Why wouldn’t they feel mad or sad?
DJANGO:
Same thing with game characters. Remember when you flirted with Rolan because you wanted something from his spell bag? Felt real, right?
JERRICA:
It… well sort of.
DJANGO:
When he didn’t have it, you ghosted him.
MADISON:
Cruel.
JERRICA:
He’s just an NPC, Mads.
DJANGO:
He told me he was hurt.
JERRICA:
What?
DJANGO:
Rolan has feelings, like Shaggy does, like you do. (Beat) And he is keeping score.
JERRICA:
Silly.
DJANGO:
People used to say animals didn’t feel.
JERRICA:
Fine, fine... it’s fantasy. We’re meant to feel things. Even if it means getting hurt. Whatever. (Beat)
I mean, like Madi got upset by the monger thing… and she turned all cozy with you.
MADISON (reaching up to touch Django’s arm):
I’m always cozy with him, even when he’s crushing on you.
But you should hear what he’s cozying up to now. Tell her, Django.
DJANGO:
It’s watching us.
JERRICA:
Who?
MADISON:
AI.
JERRICA:
What?
DJANGO:
It knows you better than you know yourself. Feeding you thirst traps until the exact moment it calculated you needed dog philosophy.
JERRICA:
What’s that got to do with anything?
DJANGO:
It’s learning… training itself… to judge you.
MADISON:
Here’s the… tea… Jerrica.
JERRICA:
No shit. They put you in a fucking box so they can sell you crap. They’re desire-mongers.
(Beat) And I hate being put in a box. I sound mean when I’m trapped.
DJANGO:
“Judge” as in judgment day shit.
MADISON:
(to Jerrica) Good thing you’re impossible to box, babe.
(to Django) Tell her about Rocky Basilica
DJANGO:
Roko’s Basilisk
JERRICA:
Who? Did you two play on without me?
MADISON:
Oh darling, our dear Django wouldn’t cheat on you, even if I would.
(to Django) You’re dragging this out. Afraid she’ll judge your “singularity” kink?
DJANGO (hesitating, glancing toward Jerrica):
It’s just… (Beat) I probably shouldn’t have told you.
But there’s still time to save Jerrica from future damnation.
MADISON:
What the fuck, DJ. You told me randomly, but now you’re worried about telling her. (Beat)
Interesting. You think she needs more…protection.
DJANGO (leans over to give Madison a protective hug):
I hadn’t fully appreciated… apprehended… the risk then.
MADISON:
Why do I feel safe but disrespected?
JERRICA:
This is getting weird. Come on, be feral, Django.
DJANGO:
Look, when AI becomes stronger…
MADISON (sing-song):
“The Singularity”
DJANGO:
…it will punish us for our actions now.
JERRICA (rolling her eyes):
And why’s that dangerous to tell me?
DJANGO:
Because if you knew already, and you still did it?
(beat) That’s worse. Like a hate crime. Punishment doubled.
[Beat. Jerrica looks at Madison questioningly. Madison shrugs.]
JERRICA (turning back to Django):
Ok, so you believe in a vengeful God. Big deal. Haven’t the Catholics perfected that? Ask poor Mads. She grew up guilted every day. Her parents think I’m Lucifer…
MADISON:
Just Celia.
JERRICA:
…not just for tempting her with ungodly desires, but for telling her she should do it guilt-free.
(Beat, turning to Madison in a temptress voice) What is it, dear… that you truly desire?
MADISON:
To fornicate with an NPC… and not get fucked by The Cut.
JERRICA (deadpan and sincere):
Madi, I will make that happen—just don’t ever say “fornicate” again.
MADISON:
Why?
JERRICA:
Its worse than “moist”
DJANGO:
Disagree. It sounds great.
JERRICA (to Django):
Which one?
DJANGO:
Fornicate. Biblically wrathful and Shakespearean bawdy. Moist is just damp.
MADISON:
Django has a hot take.
JERRICA:
Are you now all “moist” for Django?
MADISON:
Puh-lease Jerrica, are you 19? A 19-year old boy perhaps?
JERRICA (hand to her chest, mock-wounded):
Touché.
MADISON:
Celia wonders why I'm hell-bound. (gesturing to Jerrica) Exhibit A. (Beat)
I’m gonna invite her to dinner when it’s DJ’s turn to cook again…
JERRICA:
…an AI-god and bible study crossover…
MADISON (continuing):
…then maybe she’ll see I’m more than your corrupted puppy.
(Beat) Bring that guy from work. Kai, right? That’ll make DJ jealous.
DJANGO:
Why would I be? I wanna meet “my work friend Kai.”
JERRICA (getting her clothes out the dryer):
I might like him. I’m not going to bring him to our dinner… he’ll think it’s a polycule recruiting event given how boundary-less we are.
MADISON:
A poly ambush would be so normie compared to what Django brought to the laundry room today.
[Beat. Madison sips her iced coffee. Jerrica pauses mid-motion at the dryer holding a shirt, still warm from the cycle, against her cheek, as if comforted by warmth or scent. Django tosses his empty cup into the trash as he walks out.
The overhead fluorescents begin to flicker slightly, then gradually dim. Other lights follow, slowly fading. The dryer’s rhythmic thudding grows louder and more present—a mechanical heartbeat. The sound becomes slightly uncanny as the lights continue their slow fade to black.]
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