I Can't Wait For The Movie

I'd like to write it

I put a movie scene in my book. I did so because there was a person I was suspicious of but I couldn’t prove my suspicions and my rule since the beginning has been that I would never make a claim I couldn’t prove. This is how I was able to make 100 hours of videos and about 250 essays and posts without being wrong on anything. Since I was reasoning from first principles, I didn’t need to wait for data. This is why I predated everyone else by weeks or months.

How do you interpret this two or three scene segment?

A little background on Matthew Pottinger- Grew up un a D.C. family. His father was well-connected. Graduated from The University of Massachusetts. Went to China and worked as a journalist for about 10 years. Joined the marines by getting a waiver on the age requirement (Pottinger was too old by about 7 years). A few stints in the middle east where he became friends with Michael Flynn. This landed him a job in the National security agency. His job was to recruit the leader of the COVID response. He chose Debra Birx, who had worked with his wife at the CDC years before. Matthew was in the oval office when Trump was making decisions about lockdowns, closing borders, etc. He was very influential in these decisions but is not a doctor and had no data. He said that he called a doctor friend in China from his time there who convinced him to push for lockdowns.

Now, a little lead in to the scenes, followed by the scenes. What do you think? (I apologize that the copy and paste function changed the format from standard script formatting to what you see.)

Mind Boggling… I’ve said that many times but, now, I’m beginning to think all of this – ALL OF THIS FROM THE VERY BEGINNING-might have been years in the making. I’m talking everything. What if everything you’ve seen or read, down to the tiniest detail was part of a grand plan to rob the middle classes of their money and power to rearrange the way civilization is organized. The amount of money stolen to date has already been calculated to be $3.8 trillion in the U.S. alone.

Consider this line of speculation: They got the idea from the SARS-1 outbreak. They would have to wait until the technology caught up with their plans. Suddenly all systems were go. They could create any virus they wanted in a lab. We’ve been able to order whatever genome segments we want from a commercial catalog for years and they’re cheap. All they had to do was stick them together on a coronavirus backbone. Science fiction had become reality.

Every detail… From the miners who died in 2012 cleaning guano (that they could never find the causative organism for. Hell. I could have isolated the causative organism and I’ve never stepped foot in a lab), to the fake videos of people collapsing in the streets of Wuhan (to show you how horrible the disease is, the disease that is coming for YOU (so you better do what we say), to the city-wide fountain parties in Wuhan, shortly after the lockdowns finished, the pictures of which conveniently appeared on the internet to show everyone in the world how well the lockdowns worked, convincing enough to fool a world of terrified people into giving up their livelihoods, health insurance and life savings and agree to the most idiotic public health policy in history, turning negative, every GDP in the world, except for China’s, of course, which actually  ended the year up 3.5% while rerouting all of the shipping lanes in the world to their benefit.

Sure, it’s speculation- even wild speculation, but I can’t get around the fact that explains everything.

I sometimes imagine a scene in the Women’s Room at an undisclosed location between Deborah Birx and Susan Wojcicki.

EXTERIOR-DAY

Stationary drone shot from above. A rectangular, concrete block BUILDING, surrounded by thick pine forest. The words “Somewhere in Northern China” appear on the screen and fade out.

An industrial, dated, circa 1950s women’s BATHROOM- INTERIOR-DAY

A close up of a lady’s hand removing a brown paper towel from a dispenser. She has an expensive bracelet on and finely polished nails. Her hand appears middle-aged. She brings the paper towel down and places it between her finger and the soap dispenser button (to keep from touching it) and squirts soap into her other hand. She throws the paper towel into a tall, gray, opaque waste paper receptacle nearby.

DEBORAH Birx is washing her hands at the sink, lingering. SUSAN Wojcicki comes out of a stall and  

goes to the adjacent sink to wash her hands. Deborah nods. Susan nods back.

         DEBORAH

 What’s your name?

          SUSAN

 S.M.W.N. …

         DEBORAH (interjects)

 Cut the crap. What’s your real name?

 I’ve been sitting next to you for three

days in there. I can’t take this anymore.

Deborah smiles at Susan. Susan cups her ear and sweeps her hand around the room, then shrugs her shoulders as if to ask, “What about bugs?”

                      DEBORAH

Forget it. These people are

CINOs, Communists In Name Only. In

actuality, they’re PWSOWSCs. Sorry,

Progressive Wokester Straight Outta

Wall Street Capitalists. What would it

look like if they got caught bugging the

ladies room? Sorry about the initialisms,

old medical school habit. What’s your

name?

                      SUSAN (nods)

 Susan.

They start to shake and abort because their hands are soapy. They touch elbows awkwardly with a giggle, as if they just learned how.

                                                                                             SUSAN

                                                                  You?

                                                                                             DEBORAH

                                                           Deborah. Deb.

                                                                                             SUSAN

 You’re in…?

                                                                                             DEBORAH

White House medical…” (Susan

nods in approval) Trump manipulation.

                                                                                               SUSAN

You, not TNTIDD81?

                                                                                               DEBORAH  

No way. Trump’s an old horn-dog.

They needed a woman. (Susan nods) What

about you? (Susan looks confused) Why…

are… you… here?

                                                                                            SUSAN (chuckles while looking at Deborah):

Oh…Censorship. (reaches for a paper towel to dry her hands)

 I run YouTube.

 Deborah is reaching for a paper towel while nodding with surprised approval, pausing, as Susan removes hers)

                                                                                                 DEBORAH

Not bad.

       -Cut to-

The ladies are facing each other drying their hands.

                                                                                                  DEBORAH

            You know the guy who spoke after… what’s his

            name… ‘Big Creepy’ this morning?

                                                                                                   SUSAN

      Yeah, that’s a good name for him.

       I couldn’t understand a word he said.

(imitates Klaus Schwab in English with

a thick German accent to chuckles from

both women). You mean that

smokestack who was a  (shows fingers

making inverted commas) journalist over

here (adding, with an incredulous look

on her face) before being granted an age

waiver and enlisting in the Marines?

                                                                                              DEBORAH

Yeah, that’s him.

(whispers to Susan) He recruited me.

                                                                                              SUSAN (excited)

Wow, you know that guy?

                                                                                              DEBORAH

                                                                 Not before all this. He’s the Head of the White

                                                                 House Group. I knew his wife. We worked together

at the CDC… Yeah, he’s a ‘Raftie’ alright.

SUSAN (looking confused at first)

Oh, I get it; another acronym. What does it mean?

DEBORAH

First of all, it’s an initialism, not an acronym. The

letters don’t spell a word. Second, It doesn’t

mean anything. Initialisms and acronyms stand

for something. Anyway, in this case, ‘Raftie’ is

neither. It’s a descriptive term, for a… a hunk with

a brain. You know… if your plane goes down? You

want to share a raft with him… in case you end up

on a deserted island for the rest of your lives

and have to repopulate the world… (winks at

Susan)

SUSAN (glassy-eyed, nods, as she says):

Yeah.(detached, as if imagining it.)

The two ladies toss their paper towels into the trash can and walk toward the door.

DEBORAH

Hey, him recruiting me and all, his wife…. That’s on the

Q.T. (Susan looks confused.) It’s an old Latin

Term, ‘quietus-something’ another tip for ya, if you ever want to

go to medical school, learn some Latin.  It means

‘For your ears only’, capiche?

SUSAN

Wouldn’t that be a phrase, instead of a term?

It’s two words. (looks at Deborah for approval)

DEBORAH (rolling her eyes upward):

Whatever.

Deborah is looking straight ahead as she gets a cigarette out, lights it and takes a puff)

DEBORAH

You know, in this business, you gotta learn to keep your

 mouth, shut. Capiche?

                                                                               SUSAN (head down, appearing dejected at not

impressing Deborah with the ‘phrase’ vs.

‘term’ distinction, answers softly with her head

down):

 Sure. (corrects herself immediately) Capiche.

(looks up at Deborah with a ‘don’t hit me’ expression)

DEBORAH (looking disapprovingly down at Susan):

Greenhorns.

Deborah points at the door with an open hand.

DEBORAH

Well?

Susan nods and starts for the door. Deborah stops her.

                                                                                                    DEBORAH

  You use ‘em too, you know; initialisms.

                                                                                                    SUSAN

                                                                          What do you mean?

                                                                                                     DEBORAH

   You just called him TNTIDD.

                                                                                                    SUSAN

   Yeah, I know. That’s Dr. Fauci’s code name, right?

DEBORAH (looking very frustrated with

 Susan now):

    Didn’t I just tell you, you gotta learn to keep your

    mouth shut? Never mention someone’s real name,

     especially in the same sentence, with their code name.

     Got it?

  SUSAN (apologetic)

     Oh gosh. Sorry.

Susan turns and heads toward the door to go out. Deborah stops her again.

                                                                                                      DEBORAH

The initialism. You know what it means?

  SUSAN

 You mean Fauci’s

code name? It means something?

  DEBORAH (looking very frustrated at

Susan’s use of Fauci’s real name again)

For the last time, it doesn’t mean anything.

It stands for something. Ok?

  SUSAN

 Oh yeah. What does it stand for?

  DEBORAH

The Nation’s Top Infectious

 Disease Doctor’.  He came up with it… “

  SUSAN

 Really?

DEBORAH (sarcastically)

All by himself.

              SUSAN

Wow, that’s cool. (cut to Deborah’s

face, looking incredulously at Susan)

I always wondered what it would

feel like to be the best at something.

You know, the top person, like Tiger

Woods in golf or Anthony Fau I mean

TNTIDD81 in infectious disease doctoring.

Do you think they would let me make

up my own code name?

DEBORAH:

That would be a big fat ‘No’. Tell me

something, Susan. How do you run a

multi-billion dollar company?” (Susan

 takes in a big breath like she’s going to

answer the question but Deborah interrupts),

“Never mind.” (points at door)

Susan turns and goes out the door. Deborah stands alone, looking off into the distance, nodding. After a few more puffs of her cigarette, she drops it on the floor and stamps it out with the sole of her shoe, looks in the full-length mirror by the door, adjusts her bra and then her scarf, waits a few counts with her hand on the door handle, opens it and goes out.

-CUT TO-

HALLWAY of the non-descript building- INTERIOR-DAY

Deborah walks 30 feet behind Susan as several people pass them, glancing at the two ladies without moving their heads and without nodding in recognition.

-FADE OUT-

Large OFFICE-INTERIOR-NIGHT

Xi JINPING, KLAUS Schwab, BILL Gates, FRANCES Collins, ANTHONY Fauci, SECRETARY, TRANSLATOR 1, TRANSLATOR 2 and four MILITARY GUARDS are standing in a very large office, exquisitely decorated and furnished. Two Guards each stand aside the two entrances to the room. The two translators are standing to the side in view of Xi Jinping, together, away from the central focus of Xi, Schwab, and Gates. Collins and Fauci are standing outside the circle but close enough to be involved in the conversation.

-CUT TO-

METAL DETECTOR-INTERIOR-NIGHT

Susan is going through a metal detector located in the lobby of the same building, staffed by six Chinese military guards and four technicians. She picks up a briefcase as it comes through the scanner and hurries down the hallway toward the interior of the building.

-CUT TO-

HALLWAY-INTERIOR-NIGHT

Susan hurries up to a non-descript door and enters some numbers into her phone. She touches a fingerprint scanner on her phone’s  screen

-CUT TO-

Large OFFICE-INTERIOR-NIGHT

A red light illuminates over a door as a pleasant tone sounds. The door opens and Susan enters. Jinping looks at her without changing expression. Everyone stops talking. No one greets her, nor her, them. She walks over to a table as if she is familiar with the surroundings. Everyone is crowded around her as she enters the code and releases the latches on the briefcase.

-CUT TO-

CONTROL ROOM INT/NIGHT

MATTHEW Pottinger is sitting in a small CONTROL ROOM looking intently at a monitor. The screen glow reflects on his face.

-CUT TO monitor feed-

The resolution is poor. Susan takes what appears to be recording equipment from the briefcase and turns it on. It is clear from Susan’s movements that a recording is being played but there is no sound coming through the monitor.

-CUT TO-

MATTHEW’s face in the monitor glow

.

n  To be continued…