A.I. Allen Iverson (2001)
Directed by Stephon Spillburgh
INT. HIGH RISE APARTMENT - NIGHT
The patter of rain beats against a large glass window.
It’s a wet evening in the shopping district of a futuristic metropolis. Through the glass, we tilt down to see a NEAR BIRD’S EYE view of an intersection below. The bag-carrying patrons darting across the intersection look like ants from this height.
A child-sounding voice on this side of the glass speaks with a low, vibrational tone.
CHILD VOICE (O.S.)
Too small.
It is revealed to be coming from a young black boy, no more than 11, naked in his expression, looking down through the glass. His head is pressed against the glass, looking down. A motherly, reassuring voice responds from off screen.
WOMAN VOICE (O.S.)
What is it, bubba?
BUBBA (THE BOY)
They’re too small from here. All of them down there, it’s impossible to know if they’re really human, right? I can’t understand why they buy what they buy, or what keeps them going in the rain. What are they thinking? I am stuck up here left to ponder if they even exist.
WOMAN VOICE (O.S.)
Honey, that’s not how that works. The shopping district has people in it. They are there and they’re real.
We pull back and see Bubba’s mother, ANN, in her early 30s, braids down to her elbows, sitting at a tiny kitchen table in the modest high-rise apartment housing. She sips tea. The apartment is sparing in amenities: we see only the circular dining table fit for 3 people max, a tiny kitchenette, a loveseat, and the big window pane which Bubba stands in front of. His head is still pressed against the glass.
BUBBA
I guess you could be right, logistically. But philosophically, is what I’m saying. How do we really know, mama? We never get to leave this place. What is so real about them, those tiny “things” below? We can’t even see them.
ANN
What do you see then, Bubba?
BUBBA
I see patterns. Large crowds. I just see movement. They all go from the north end to the south end but never the other direction. Why is that? Also. I counted, and the stoplight is on a 30 second cycle. And I see about, on average, 2 shopping bags per person.
ANN
So they out there spending cash then. That’s what’s real people do, Bubba.
BUBBA
Why don’t we ever go down there then? Why don’t we spend cash? They must not think we’re real if we don’t do that.
ANN
Stop it. I don’t care what they think. You don’t need to worry about any of that, Bubba. What’s real is I really need you to come sit down over here.
BUBBA
How can you just say that though, mama. Look, there are so many of them. If they’re real, they must think something.
ANN
Bubba, come over here. Why don’t you turn on the Tele instead of doing all this worrying?
Bubba turns away from the glass and sits at the table by his mother. She puts her hand over a large, spherical MARBLE wedged in the center of the table and presses down. The floor to ceiling glass window ceases to be a membrane through which to see the outer world. It turns ON, just like a TV and a local news program fills the entire glass surface.
Ann “rolls” the marble—as if it’s a tiny, stationary bowling ball—and the window TV scrolls through to other channels. We get glimpses of a few choice things: a hip-hop music video channel titled “The Love Below” on which a group of humanoid robots in a stairwell are rapping into the camera → A TCM-like channel playing Disney’s Pinocchio from 1941 → a serene nature channel good for only ambient sounds and still visuals → a reality show featuring humanoid robots arguing in front of a beach fire pit → and a catchy, animated ad for MISCORP: “Mecha Insurance Solutions” → and…
ANN
A’ight. Here we go.
She stops the rotating bowling ball-like marble. It’s landed on a playoff basketball game featuring the Cicalligo Bulls and the Bostyne Celtics. The intensity is high. Bubba and Ann watch on as robots with uncanny human features—similar to the ones we’ve seen on other TV programs—run up and down the court exchanging baskets. To note: In this world, humanoid robots are known as “Mecha”, and they exist in every facet of life and and especially entertainment.
One of the Mecha for the Bulls, a slender, bald figure wearing a flashy pair of black and red sneakers, goes up for a layup, gets hit on the wrist and comes crashing down. No whistle. Ann launches out of her seat to dispute.
ANN
Hey!! That was a foul and a half!
Bubba looks on lovingly. He sees she’s adamant about this.
ANN
They can’t do that to him. He’s too good to not get those calls.
She sits back down, frustrated, but the entire time Bubba has not taken his eyes off of Ann. He loves to watch her watch.
BUBBA
(instigating)
What’s wrong, mama?
ANN
Referees, honey. They gonna know how I feel about the game. They can’t attack my fave like that and get away with it.
BUBBA
But that’s what I’m saying, mama. You’re so far from the game, how do you know you’re right? The ref saw it up close.
ANN
Boy, don’t play with me. I been watching this game since before you got here. I know what I’m talking about. And THAT was a missed call.
Bubba smiles to himself.
BUBBA
Well, I can’t argue with that. I love you, mama.
ANN
I love you, too.
LATER
The buzzer sounds and the Bostyne Celtics have won the game. Bright yellow text of the FINAL SCORE lingers on the large glass window pane: Bostyne 122 - Cicalligo 104. Over low frame-rate clips of highlights from the game, a stately voice guides:
ANNOUNCER (V.O.)
Valiant effort from the young Cicalligo Bulls, but it just wasn’t enough as the Celtics have won the series 3 games to nothing. Jordan, not his usual self today, didn’t have enough to stave off the sweep. I’m sure we’ll be hearing from them in years to come, but for now the Celtics move closer to their championship goals.
Ann hovers her hand over the spherical table remote and the Tele image on the window dissipates. Outside, it’s still raining.
ANN
Alright, bubba. It’s time to go to bed.
BUBBA
Yes, mama. I’ll handle it.
Bubba goes to the wall next to the window, presses a button and the whole wall unlatches gracefully, revealing a small pull-down bed. It falls down length-wise right in front of where the big window is. Ann presses her own button on the side of the loveseat and it folds out, revealing her bed.
Bubba, laying in bed, looks out the glass window as rain continues to pitter-patter against it. He touches the cold glass with an outstretched hand. He turns to Ann, opening his mouth to ask another question but she is not there, she is off in the bathroom fixing herself. Through a slight crack in the door, Bubba can see her putting her hair in a cap. Then, she brushes her teeth.
He checks his own teeth for food chunks, finds nothing, and then looks down at his own hands, turns them about. They are brown-skinned, of medium complexion. IN BUBBA’S POV: he flexes his finger joints and we hear a slight “whirring” sound.
It is abundantly clear to us at this moment: Bubba is Mecha. He looks back forth to his hands and to his mother through the crack in the door. His usual expressionless countenance turns sour.
BUBBA
(competing with the faucet)
Mama! What are you doing in there?
Ann catches Bubba’s stare, THROUGH THE CRACKED DOOR, and off the reflection in the mirror. She makes eye contact.
ANN
What does it look like I’m doing? Getting ready for bed.
BUBBA
(still shouting)
How come I never get ready for bed, mama?
The faucet stops running.
ANN
You not sleepy, honey? Time to go to sleep, a’ight?
Bubba wants to get his hands out of his sight, so he crosses his arms in impatience.
BUBBA
Mama, I said how come I never get ready for bed.
ANN
You just did. You made your bed and you got in it.
BUBBA
But how come I don’t brush my teeth or do any of the stuff you do?
ANN
Listen you had all these questions earlier, and those were good ones. Now you just asking questions you know the answer to to be hard-headed. You’re tired, that’s all.
BUBBA
Mama.
ANN
Time for bed. Let’s go.
Ann waves her hand over a wall panel in the corner and all the ceiling lights dim. Both laying in bed, there’s silence for awhile, aside from rain patter.
BUBBA
Mama?
ANN
Yes.
BUBBA
Why do I have so many questions?
ANN
I don’t know Bubba. Maybe because you’re a really smart boy. Smart boys ask questions. But that don’t mean you deserve as many answers. Sometimes, answers don’t help anything.
Sometimes, there are no answers.
BUBBA
Why?
ANN
Bubba.
BUBBA
Okay. This isn’t a question, but. Sometimes it just feels like I don’t even want the answer. I might even know the answer. But I like asking questions, mama.
ANN
I understand, Bubba. I like that about you. That’s how you’ve always been. You have your own answers. Nobody can take that from you.
Lord knows you’ve helped me with more of my own questions than I can count. How to work this, how to fix that. How to add these two numbers together. You a damn answer factory.
Bubba chuckles.
BUBBA
Oh, mama.
ANN
Let’s go to sleep, now. a’ight, Mr. Answer?
BUBBA
Yes, mama.
ANN
There you go. That’s the only answer you really need.
Bubba smiles.
Before long, they both doze off. And before long, the rain subsides. We move to the moon in a now clear sky overhead, blanketing the metropolis in a hazy white light.
