DREAMX
Episode One: LAKENHEATH
ACT ONE
INT. DOK’S ROOM – NIGHT
A semi-dark room.
Flickering red and matrix-green light washes across the walls.
A mobile phone stands upright on a small stand, emitting a faint hiss of static.
On a mattress covered with an ornate throw lies DOK — middle-aged, though younger-looking. Slightly unshaven. Black T-shirt. Dark shades. Headphones.
His breathing is slow.
Measured.
He presses a finger against one ear cup.
DOK (slight London accent) You there, Phenix?
Static.
Then—
PHENIX (V.O.) (slight Kenyan accent) I’m here.
DOK Are you ready?
A beat.
PHENIX (V.O.) I’m ready.
The room shudders.
The walls ripple as though made of water.
Furniture stretches.
Colours separate.
Reality fractures into spiralling ribbons of red and matrix green.
The vortex consumes everything.
EXT. UNNAMED BRITISH & USAF AIRBASE – PERIMETER – NIGHT
The vortex slowly unwinds.
Trees emerge first.
Dark.
Twisted.
Almost human.
Then the perimeter fence.
Floodlights sweep across an unnamed British and USAF airbase.
DOK and PHENIX step from the dissolving vortex.
Dok wears smart glasses, an olive M65 field jacket over a black T-shirt, jeans and boots.
Phenix wears a long black trench coat, dark red trousers and smart glasses.
They take in the silent base.
PHENIX
We’re here.
Now how do we get in?
Dok looks towards the fence.
DOK
Levitate.
Phenix raises an eyebrow.
PHENIX
You sure the radar won’t pick us up?
Dok smiles.
DOK
No.
We’ll be way under the radar.
They rise silently from the ground.
Effortless.
The two drift over the perimeter fence, disappearing into the darkness beyond.
EXT. AIRBASE – SERVICE BUILDINGS – NIGHT
The base is eerily quiet.
Dok and Phenix move from one building to another, keeping close to walls and deep shadows.
Occasionally Dok touches the side of his smart glasses.
Watching invisible information.
PHENIX
Are you sure their DreamScope systems won’t pick us up?
Dok studies an unseen display.
DOK
No sign yet.
We should be okay.
They continue forward.
PHENIX
So we’ve just got to find a way into the underground facility.
DOK
Yep.
And that’s when the fun begins.
They disappear between two anonymous military buildings.
EXT. AIRBASE – FLIGHT LINE – NIGHT
Rows of silent fighter aircraft stand beneath floodlights.
The pair weave carefully between them.
Everything is still.
Too still.
Without warning—
CLICK.
Weapons being cocked.
Two MOD POLICE OFFICERS emerge from the darkness.
Sub-machine guns trained on Dok and Phenix.
MOD POLICE OFFICER
Halt!
Hands where I can see them!
Phenix slowly raises hers.
The second officer stares in disbelief.
MOD POLICE WOMAN
How the hell did they get in here?
Dok calmly lifts his hands.
Completely unfazed.
DOK
No need to worry.
We were looking for somewhere to have a picnic.
It is Sunday, after all.
Phenix glances sideways at him.
Deadpan.
PHENIX
That’s not exactly going to help now, is it?
It’s night.
And this is a restricted military facility.
Dok shrugs.
DOK
Well…
it was worth a try.
The officers advance cautiously.
Weapons never wavering.
Dok and Phenix exchange a brief glance.
Neither resists.
CUT TO BLACK.
INT. HOLDING CELL – UNKNOWN LEVEL – NIGHT
Cold white lighting.
Concrete.
No windows.
The steel door slams.
DOK and PHENIX sit opposite one another on a metal bench.
Silence.
PHENIX removes her smart glasses.
She looks annoyed rather than frightened.
PHENIX
Well.
That went well.
DOK
I’ve had worse Mondays.
PHENIX
It’s Sunday.
DOK
Even worse.
A beat.
The fluorescent light flickers.
PHENIX studies the room.
PHENIX
This place…
doesn’t feel stable.
DOK nods.
He closes his eyes.
Listens.
Almost like hearing vibrations.
DOK
Hear that?
PHENIX
Hear what?
DOK
Nothing.
Exactly.
Heavy locks disengage.
The steel door opens.
Two soldiers enter.
Black uniforms.
Compact sub-machine guns.
No insignia.
One gestures.
SOLDIER
Come with us.
INT. INTERROGATION ROOM
A single table.
Three chairs.
An elderly man already waits.
Grey suit.
Military haircut.
Perfect posture.
Late sixties.
No rank.
No identification.
He smiles.
Almost kindly.
The smile never reaches his eyes.
The soldiers remain standing.
Weapons lowered.
But ready.
The old man folds a file.
Looks at DOK.
OLD MAN
Doctor Snake.
Interesting name.
DOK
It’s Doktor.
The spelling matters.
The old man makes a note.
OLD MAN
Does it?
DOK
Usually.
Silence.
The old man studies PHENIX.
OLD MAN
And you.
Phenix.
Not your birth name.
PHENIX
Neither’s yours.
A tiny smile.
The old man seems pleased.
OLD MAN
Good.
You’re observant.
That’ll save time.
He opens the file.
Photographs spill across the table.
They aren’t photographs of the airbase.
They’re photographs of…
DOK.
Walking alone in Breckland woodland.
Standing beside Grimes Graves.
Driving deserted roads.
Talking to apparently nobody.
One image catches PHENIX’s eye.
A huge black canine.
Almost pony-sized.
Standing among pine trees.
Looking directly at the camera.
Its face…
almost smiling.
Another photograph.
Blurred.
Long reptilian creature.
Half crocodile.
Half something impossible.
Captured between frames.
Moving impossibly fast.
PHENIX looks at DOK.
PHENIX
So you weren’t exaggerating.
OLD MAN
No.
He wasn’t.
He slides another photograph.
A towering hairy figure.
Among silver birches.
Gone in the next frame.
OLD MAN
Your newspapers call them…
Bigfoot.
Woodwose.
Wild men.
Ghosts.
Folklore is remarkably efficient camouflage.
DOK says nothing.
OLD MAN
Mr Snake—
may I call you Mr Snake?
DOK
No.
OLD MAN
Very well.
Doktor.
You concluded this installation became…
your words…
“An Island of Doctor Moreau.”
DOK
Close enough.
The old man nods.
OLD MAN
Interesting.
Because we arrived at precisely the same conclusion.
Forty-three years ago.
Silence.
Even PHENIX looks surprised.
The old man leans forward.
OLD MAN
You’re asking entirely the wrong question.
You think we’re creating them.
We’re not.
We’re trying to stop them.
Another silence.
OLD MAN
Something underneath this airbase…
started dreaming.
And once something dreams long enough…
the dream eventually notices…
that you’re watching.
The first creature wasn’t engineered.
It was remembered.
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