INT. EVANGELINE'S BEDROOM. NIGHT.
EVANGELINE (mid-20s), dressed from the neck down in her fursona — a Pink Husky Dog Fursuit in Shibari bondage — paces around her room. She sits at her desk and stares into the glowing ring light affixed to her phone, which stands ready to record. In the background, the documentary All Watched Over by Machines of Loving Grace flickers on a large LCD screen, muted with subtitles. Evangeline pays no attention. She watches her video reflection as she reaches over and places the husky headpiece on.
INT. LONDON GALLERY. NIGHT.
Inside a small but busy art opening, several grotesque AI generated artworks adorn the walls, blown up to massive proportions. Free cans of Bang energy drink (Cherry Blade Lemonade flavour) are fished from an ice bucket. The crowd is edgy and mostly very good-looking in an effortless but not effortless way. A nervous hum fills the air.
Evangeline crosses the room, dressed coquettishly in a little white dress, cardigan and glasses. Absorbed in the room sheet, she accidentally knocks into an anthropomorphic furry sculpture with a massive erection, spilling her drink.
EVANGELINE
Sorry! Shit. Shit. Sorry!
Evangeline pulls a tissue from her pocket and wipes the sculptural cock tenderly. Suddenly, as if possessed by an overriding impulse, she makes a beeline for the bathroom.
INT. TOILET CUBICLE. NIGHT.
Evangeline sits down on the toilet and pulls out her phone. She tweets: "surrounded by giant furry sculptures pulled straight from the DeviantArt hivemind. horny or nah?" She posts the tweet and lets it sit before quickly deleting it.
Instead, she posts: "sentient art technologies, memetic discourse, parapolitical critique - none of these words are in the bible". She flushes the toilet and takes a deep breath before exiting the cubicle.
INT. LONDON GALLERY. NIGHT.
Evangeline is sardined between excited gallery-goers in fake Balenciaga, waving their vapes as they talk. She snaps a few iPhone photos of the art.
BLUE CHECK GIRL, an emaciated micro-celebrity in a Praying ‘main character’ cap, is caught candidly in one shot. She locks eyes with Evangeline and they share an awkward, knowing glance.
Evangeline approaches the exhibiting artist, RIVER (late-30s), tattooed and dressed in an expensive bomber jacket and distressed cap. He stands talking to an ART BUYER sloppily dressed in an ill-fitting suit jacket, jeans and loud yellow Nike Dunks. They discuss the art.
RIVER
(Speaking to a handful of admirers)
For the contemporary zeitgeist, it
seems that the demarcation between
highbrow and lowbrow art and culture
has become rather tenuous. The idea
that certain things are culturally
significant while others are not has
lost its hold on our collective
imagination.
We see an early 2000s render image of a Sims 2 themed Puss in Boots, snarling and pissing in the mouth of a BDSM furry. The two figures are surrounded by a cheering crowd of teenagers wielding AR-15 rifles.
ART BUYER
Mmmmm, you can really see these as
hybrid beings plucked from the anals
of mythology -
RIVER
Sorry, do you mean annals?
ART BUYER
(Laughing)
Oh yes, of course!
(Gesturing at the artwork)
Alternatively, we can see their
envisioned futures, embarking on a valiant quest for enlightenment. But I also feel like there's a quality of
nihilism too?
RIVER
(Shrugging)
I stick my finger into the arsehole of
existence, and it smells of nothing.
They all chortle knowingly, and Evangeline interjects.
EVANGELINE
And boredom is the root of all evil.
RIVER
Pardon?
EVANGELINE
Kierkegaard, right?
RIVER
What?
EVANGELINE
I think you were quoting Kierkegaard.
You know, existence, boredom,
nothingness?
RIVER
Did I?
EVANGELINE
I mean, I agree, it's very nihilistic.
Desperate kids in the burbs, nu-metal
and guns... I think this piece is a
metaphor for the overproduced art
world. And the use of raw amateur
technologies feels like a throwback to
simpler times. While it also provokes
the ‘culture war’ discourse, it's
certainly not the first time we've
experienced one.
RIVER
Interesting. And because of this,
there's an underlying feeling of
impotence towards making true,
revolutionary critiques. We feel
trapped by the ambiguity and obscurity of an unidentifiable, centralist
monster called authority.
EVANGELINE
(Smiling)
An anti-fascist artist taking on the
neoliberal Leviathan! Is your art
going to save us all?
RIVER
(Going for a handshake)
River.
EVANGELINE
(Pointing to a nearby exhibit wall label)
I noticed.
Beat.
RIVER
You look insanely familiar. Have we
met at Shoreditch House or something?
EVANGELINE
I think it was Hinge.
RIVER
(Coughs on his vape)
Ah. Greta?
EVANGELINE
Evangeline.
RIVER
That's the one! How have you been?
EVANGELINE
Yeah, good, busy. I'm working on a new
piece at the moment. Kind of inspired
by the alchemy of language, technical
virtuosity, and visual seduction.
RIVER
Riveting.
EVANGELINE
Yeah, I'm also looking into notions of
camouflage and self-censorship...
River is distracted by an important-looking guest.
RIVER
Will you excuse me? One moment.
Irritated, Evangeline darts away, back towards the bathroom.
INT. TOILET CUBICLE. NIGHT.
Evangeline swings the cubicle door shut, takes a seat and tweets: ‘art? just another black pill’ with a photo from the gallery. She thinks for a second and then deletes it. She types another one: ‘who do I have to fuck or suck to get my first solo show?’ and hits post. She uploads a cropped screenshot of a Hinge profile that reads, ‘My therapist would say I: need to stop dating nietzschean red scare sugar babies’ with the caption: ‘kill thyself’. She posts it and locks her phone.
INT. LONDON GALLERY. NIGHT.
Evangeline hurries back into the throng of patrons, grabbing another two Bang Energy cans from the ice bucket along the way. She approaches River and hands him a can.
EVANGELINE
Sorry about that. I was busting. So
what are you reading at the moment?
RIVER
Um, I'm actually rereading Hemingway.
EVANGELINE
Awesome. So I was thinking, you kinda,
like, left me on read.
RIVER
Sorry, pardon?
EVANGELINE
On Hinge. You sort of never replied to
me. Ghosted me or whatever.
RIVER
Oh, I'm sorry. I've been super busy
leading up to the show, you know, that
London hustle, sig-
EVANGELINE
-sigma grindset? Yeah, it must be hard
work making furry porn on Cuckjourney.
River's face contorts.
EVANGELINE
No, sorry. I mean -
RIVER
I am sincere when I say that AI
represents the anarchic psyche of the
internet and, therefore, reveals our
own present-day reality.
EVANGELINE
Of course. What I meant to say is -
RIVER
Believe it or not, we live in a
Baudrillardian hyperreality. Anyway,
I'm sorry I never replied to you. It's
just, at this point in my life, I
really need to take my art seriously.
EVANGELINE
Absolutely. Me too.
RIVER
Life's a project, right? Keep at it!
Evangeline brushes past River and through the crowd. She begins furiously typing a tweet: ‘Computer art is r*trd*d[1] [2] [3] [4] ’ and hits post. She drafts another with a slight smile. ‘AI could never replicate the farce of art. We are safe.’ She posts it and sculls a Bang. She tosses the empty can aside, and it clatters noisily across the floor, creating an awkward, confused silence in the room.
Evangeline strides over to the furry sculpture and knocks it to the ground. In one deft movement, she straddles the shiny, plastic erection of the beast and begins slowly grinding on it. The onlooking crowd stands and watches, aghast but intrigued.
Evangeline touches herself, ripping open her dress, grunting and moaning in a theatrical display of pleasure. She picks up a Bang and pours it all over her face and body. It mixes with the blood that begins to trickle from her legs, gathering in a puddle on the floor.
7.
The gallery-goers start filming on their iPhones, flashes going off periodically. Evangeline dismounts the sculpture and snaps off its anamorphic penis, wielding it like a microphone as she leans down to interrogate her audience.
EVANGELINE
Why are you here?
BLUE CHECK GIRL
Um...
EVANGELINE
Why are you here?
ART BUYER
I... uhh...
The Art Buyer looks to someone else for an answer.
EVANGELINE
(To River)
Why are you here?
River stands there in silence, maintaining eye contact and stroking his chin furiously.
Evangeline resumes making love to the beast. Her moans grow louder, and her pace quickens. The gallery audience murmurs excitedly, growing into a confused cheer as Evangeline moves faster.
Evangeline begins squealing and contorts in a full-body orgasm, concluding with a roar that seems to come from both her and the sculpture. She slips off the statue and collapses, panting in the puddle of Bang and blood.
The audience stands in silence, looking around. River is motionless and wide-eyed. Tears streak his face. He wipes his eyes quickly with his sleeve.
INT. LONDON GALLERY. NIGHT.
A few hours later. The gallery is empty of people except for a lone cleaner among the sculptures. She devotedly scrubs the dry, congealed blood on the floor with a mop.
THE END.
