Fan Fiction

The Age of Capricorn
By Christina Nordlander


The widescreen: the old Super Mario Bros. Cartoon where Mario pulls the golden sucker out of the holy bathtub.

Fry, wearing some futuristic version of dungarees, is standing around happily in a sunny archæological excavation site. People are seen digging in the background, and an experienced-looking archæologist hands Fry what, to all the world, looks like a stick. Fry takes it, putting away a glossy magazine that appears to have a picture of a city on the cover.

ARCHÆOLOGIST: Have you got any previous experiences of excavation?

FRY (suavely): Well, my friends would tell me that this is a 20th century site, and I was cryogenically frozen back then, so...

ARCHÆOLOGIST (placidly): Oh well, then you should know how to work the disintegration prod. Good luck. Remember, all the stuff you find is yours, provided it's not old nuclear warheads.

He walks off. Fry looks at the stick with interest, then uses it to poke a rock. The rock explodes violently. He pokes a plant and it too explodes, leaving a cloud of smoke.

FRY (breathing it and coughing, then getting visibly woozy): Whoa, groovy man!

He tentatively reaches out to touch the tip of the stick.

ARCHÆOLOGIST (OS): You better not!

FRY: Awwwww...

He prods the ground instead, causing most of the earth on the site to disintegrate. As he (together with some very disgruntled diggers) lands on the bottom of the pit, he walks around quite happily, disintegrating the finds revealed all around them.

FRY (poking a rock): Boom! (poking a nuclear warhead which dissolves into green dust) Boom! (poking a Ming vase) Boom!

He turns towards the camera and is about to disintegrate something more when he stops dead. Zoom out to show that the thing is a white Cadillac, dilapidated but still rather futuristic (from our point of view) and beautiful.

FRY (sobering): WOW! That is what I'd like to call a woman! (slapping himself) I mean a car!

DIGGER (looking at it critically): It might crumble if you touch it... better treat it as soon as possible.

She takes out a can of Touch-N-Up spray and sprays the car, which is immediately restored to glorious mint condition. Fry seems to fight against an impulse to drop to his feet in adoration, and instead looks at the spray can.

FRY: Is that some kind of super-shine-o?

DIGGER (laughing): Oh no. It merely reverses time in individual molecules.

FRY (thoughtfully): Does it work on humans as well?

DIGGER (shaking her head): Nah, it's a car caretaking thing... (glumly) And most cars nowadays won't have it, because it plays hell with their AI circuits...

Fade to black. The POV is apparently inside the car as Fry opens the door and looks inside.

FRY (sniffing the air): Smells like somebody died in here.

Cut outside to where the head archæologist comes with a portable hovering desk and what looks like an OverHead Projector. He briefly types some things into the laptop before straightening up. The amateur diggers gather around him for a lecture.

ARCHÆOLOGIST (pointing at the car): A-HEM. What we have here is a Cadillac Ditsu of the year 2241. To judge from the traditions of the time, as well as the site and the apparent luxury of the model, we have concluded... (looking at the screen) that this is the tomb of a stock marketing mogul, buried in his favourite car in order that his spirit would travel swifter to the Holdings in the Sky. This is known, in professional terms, as a "car burial".

He presses a button on the projector, causing a holographic film to be projected in the air. (A caption says: ARTIST'S CONCEPTION) We see the suit-wearing corpse, briefcase lying on his chest, being carried into the backseat of the car as all around him other stockholders are banging their briefcases and lamenting. His bejewelled wife then clambers onto the bonnet of the car, swigs a jar of sleeping pills, and dies. The projection is turned off.

ARCHÆOLOGIST: ... his wife, secretaries, snappy wardrobe and laptop were buried with him, in order that his successors wouldn't have any use of them.

FRY (wiping a tear): That is... so... sad! (rather happier) Do I get to keep the car?

ARCHÆOLOGIST (sharply): It is a peerless document of the rites of the past! (softer) As per the rules, yes. But surely we should remove the body first.

Fade out. Fade in to an exterior shot of the Planet Express building in the morning. Cut to the office, where everyone except Fry is assembled. Some searching glances are exchanged.

FARNSWORTH: Good news... everyone? (he looks around, then straightens up) Today, we are going to consider your new deal for paid vacations. Hermes?

HERMES (getting his notes out): Currently, we have six weeks...


Close up of Hermes looking requestingly at him. Close up of Professor Farnsworth looking back. Shot of Leela, Bender, Amy and Dr Zoidberg watching them attentively.

BENDER (menacing, slapping his fist with a clonking noise): Wanna tell us about the deal already?

HERMES: Well...

FARNSWORTH (stern): We are *not* going to discuss it until Mr Fry backs his lazy behind into this office.


AMY (at her sweetest): Please, Hermes?

HERMES (clearing his throats): As I was about to say, we currently have...

FARNSWORTH: *No*, Hermes!

SFX: a carhorn playing "The Immigrant Song" (by Led Zeppelin). Everyone rushes for the windows. Shot from the outside of them looking through and gasping.

LEELA (slapping her forehead): Oh, Fry...

Zoom out to show Fry, hair slicked down and wearing a suit, leaning suavely on the carhorn and looking up at them.

FRY (reaching out the window and patting the sleek finish of the car): Look who got himself a *neat* engine?

Cut back to the flabberghasted fellow employees.

BENDER (smiling lewdly): That man is in love!

LEELA (decisive): Well, I am not letting this happen!

She walks off. SFX: her footsteps down the stairs.

FARNSWORTH (calling out): Fry! We are discussing the conditions for days off! Get yourself in here this instant!

Cut back to Fry, getting ready to drive off.

FRY (calling back): Yup, and that is exactly what I'm doing, taking the day off! See you tomorrow, kerb-crawlers!

Brief cut back to the people by the windows.

FARNSWORTH (sotto voce): Oh dear. Then he won't know about my plan to cancel the days off and make you all my wage slaves.

Fry steps on the gas dramatically, as Leela rushes up to him.

FRY: Time to roll.

LEELA (calling out): Fry, don't go!

FRY (smoothing his hair): Don't you know I want to, toots...

LEELA (angry): Don't *you* know I'm not going to take sexual harassment from a guy just because he drives a glitzy car! And you are *not* taking that thing out in the morning rush! (gestures towards the many hovercars driving past)

FRY (patting the car chassis protectively): Don't listen to her, Ditzy. You will amaze her.

LEELA (coldly): May I axe why you talk to a car who hasn't even got an AI? Whereas it *has* got these... things!

Cut to outside the car as she kicks one of the tyres, and jumps back in shock from the sensation.

FRY (lowering his eyelids): Tyres.

LEELA (regaining her dignity): Yes... Fry, you don't know how to drive a car with "tyres"!

FRY (exasperated): Look, I don't know how to drive a car *without* tyres!

LEELA: Exactly!

Fry flashes her a smile and drives off, screaming as the car bounces over a bump in the road, which nobody in the hovercars seems to notice.

Montage: Fry and his car Ditzy. Cue music: "The Immigrant Song".

Fry drives past a café as some beautiful, flighty-looking young ladies come running out, waving and cheering. He motions them into the roomy car. Then he also drives past some clowns performing in the street (a sign next to them says, in English and Alien lettering, "Donate some money to the beggar monks of Planet Jollity") and motions them inside as well, together with some street musicians.

Artful camera glide around an arena, surrounded with wildly cheering spectators, as he bumps his car into Hitler's one (as seen on The Simpsons, the episode "Bart Carny"). An electronic marquee says: TODAY: CAR DUEL (DITZY VS. EAGLE OF THE FATHERLAND). TOMORROW: BIG INSECT DUEL (GRO-SHAMBA VS. ANSAMANITA THE UNMERCIFUL).

Fry drives his car (now somewhat scratched, but covered in medals) up to a petrol station, where a stern-looking woman in a pink Chanel dress is taking apart a car as she looks up and sees him. Fry gives her a gesture, and she takes on lace gloves and averts her eyes in adoration before giving the car a Touch-N-Up spraying and filling up the petrol.

Shot of the seaside, where a sign says "Crystal Meth Island this way". A bit off the coast a gloriously crystal-palaced island is seen, and the hovercars fly their easily. Fry parks his car by the shore and walks out of it, dejectedly. Shot of the sun shining on the lacquer and chrome and concentrating into a laser ray which evaporates the water in front, and he drives through the sea. End montage.

Shot of Fry driving on the open road in the sunset, a wide smile on his face, as he hits a line of hovercars and has to stop. He hits the carhorn irritably.

FRY (calling out): Hey! I'm trying to get home! I've had a long, hard day fluming around on the road, so let me through!

A stressed-looking driver in the car in front turns around, irritably.

DRIVER: Well, *I* had a long, hard day picking beetroots to pay for my family's 'Net addiction programme, so maybe you should shut your hole and *wait* like everyone else!

FRY (hitting the carhorn some more): Come on! I'm driving a tyre-car! You can just hover a bit higher and let me drive underneath!

The driver looks on the verge of hitting him, then slowly smiles evilly and pulls the gears, raising the car enough for Fry to drive through under it.

DRIVER (smugly): Drive ahead!

FRY (suddenly disturbed): How do I know you're not just going to crush me?

DRIVER (really angry): [censored] paranoid [censored]!

FRY: I'm not taking any of that! (leaning out of the car window and waving his fist) You! Get down again so I can give you a dent you won't soon forget!

DRIVER (muttering): Believe me, kid, I'd *love* to stay and give you a piece of my mind, but I'm tired of this childish fight. Screw this, I'm cutting the queue!

Shot of him driving off on top of the queue, causing the other drivers to duck and shout expletives. Towards the end of it, he is apprehended by the two policemen (robot and human).

HUMAN COP (taking out an electronic clipboard): So, what's going on here? Looks like you're cutting the queue!

DRIVER (gesturing blandly towards Fry's car): That guy over there accused me of trying to attack him.

HUMAN COP (sadistic): Ah... dealing with psychopathic drivers is even funner than dealing with stressed drivers.

ROBOT COP (making "unrolling his sleeves" motions): We'll let *you* get away with a fine and a good kickin'!

Cut to Fry, still honking the musical car horn. A nervous female driver, looking like a stereotypical Fifties housewife, is starting to get very stressed in front of him.

FRY (really annoyed): Move it!

DRIVER #2: But I'm standing still as fast as I can!

FRY: He cut the queue! So can you!

DRIVER #3 (even more to the front): Officer! This guy here is instigating to queue-cutting!

FRY (nervous, seeing the police car approaching): Oh, shaddap!

DRIVER #2 (working herself up): Did you just tell me to shaddap?


Cue disturbing music as the haggard-looking woman, hair flying, eyes glowing, reaches into the glove-compartment and takes out a futuristic spanner, swinging it at Fry's rear-view mirror. Fry screams.


He leans out and takes the spanner to the head, almost passing out. Zoom out as the driver is led out of her car and electro-handcuffed.

HUMAN COP (pulling a raygun on her): Lu-Tzi, you've got some 'splaining to do.


The cop leans closer to Fry, helping him focusing his gaze.

HUMAN COP (stern but nice): Kid, you seem to be driving a bit recklessly... but apparently you're a victim of crazed road rage. Just move on home and get yourself a license.

FRY (dizzily): Thank you, officer...

He steps on it and drives straight into the line, causing violent denting of the cars in front. The cop shakes his head slowly.

HUMAN COP: They never learn...

Cue dramatic music. Close up of Fry's wrists getting handcuffed. Shot of the NNYPD station in the evening, with Fry (panicky) being led inside by heavily armed officers. Darkness. Shot of Fry, harshly lit in the dimness, being shaken and slapped violently with a strange "dish"-like noise.

VOICE (male, threatening): TALK! TALK!

FRY (intimidated): I'm sorry... please stop slapping me... I didn't mean to drive into those cars!


The light is turned down to normal. Zoom out to show that Fry is tied up in a violently shaking chair (a bit like the ones in simulator cinemas), with a mechanic hand slapping him. On the other end of the desk, a cop, a bit bored, pushes a button. The chair cranks to a standstill and the hand is retracted.

COP (going through his paperwork): Ah... turns out we got you mixed up with a notorious psycho killer, heh heh. I guess that happens.

FRY (hopefully): Oh well, turns out that all I did was denting some...

COP (suddenly stern): Yes. I have some bad news for you, kid...

Fade out. Fade in to the Planet Express office, exterior, early morning. Fry's new car is parked outside, and clamped. SFX: footsteps. Cut to inside as the human and robot cops walk Fry into the office where the others are waiting, worried. Apart from the bruise caused by the spanner, Fry doesn't look too badly, but he's got a tired, resigned look on his face and is wearing an electronic anklet. They let go of him, and he slumps onto a chair.

AMY (rushing up to him): Fry! Are you OK?

BENDER (intrigued): Did they give you the Interrogation Chair? (smacks his fist)

FRY (thinking for a moment): ... no...

BENDER (grinning): Good! Otherwise I'd have to be jealous!

LEELA (composed): Fry, I really hate to gloat over your misfortunes, but I *did* say that driving that thing in public would only cause trouble.

FRY (head in hands): Leela, I've learnt the error of my ways! They've clamped Ditzy, my beautiful car, and given me house arrest!

HUMAN COP (tactfully): Ahem...

HERMES: For the love of all that's good and holy, what *happened* last night?

Zoom at Fry's frightened eyes. Dream blur. Fade in to the road as he is slamming madly into the car in front, denting it heavily.


FRY (maniacal): I... just need to... take it out... on someone!

DRIVER: Quit it!


FRY: Uh-oh... AI circuit car... FRY TO THE RESCUE! (he reaches into the glove compartment and gets a bottle of Touch-N-Up) Good thing I had a spare bottle!

The cops are watching in mixed horror and glee as he rushes up to the car, giving it an ample spraying. As the driver screams, the car seems to un-age back to the original assembly bits.

CAR (childish voice): Mummy, it hurts me!

ROBOT COP (handcuffing Fry): That is enough of auto cruelty for you, kid! (to the human cop) Every time I see one of those humanists treating us AI creations like this, I get so damn mad!

Dream blur back to the office. Hermes shudders.

HERMES (to himself, looking down): He's toast.

LEELA: Uh? (Hermes whispers in her ear, and she covers her eyes) No, please...

FRY (depressing): And now they're making me wear this... *thing*. (he hits the anklet with his fist, and is zapped) Ouch!

HUMAN COP (not unkind, almost apologetic): If you move outside this one-mile radius, or try to remove it, it is going to explode, severing your foot.

FRY (annoyed): Thank you. And no telling how long I'm gonna have to wear it... three years?

ROBOT COP (unemotional): ... three days, in fact.

FRY: Three days? (raising his hands into the air) Woo-hoo!

The two of them look at one another, shrugging solemnly.

ROBOT COP (sotto voce): This is what I hate about this job.

HUMAN COP (trying to justify something): He *did* dent a car.

ROBOT COP (shaking his head): It's too harsh. Too harsh.

They turn back towards them. Everyone is starting to look seriously concerned, apart from Fry who is still obliviously happy.

HUMAN COP (to Hermes): You look pretty knowledgeable, with your glasses and terrified expression... are you a student of law?

HERMES (wandering eyes): Bureaucracy, more like it... but... but I think I know the punishment procedure in this case.


HERMES (gulping): Dent. TM.

Fry is getting increasingly nervous as the cops turn to leave.

HUMAN COP: While wearing the anklet, you are permitted to linger here or in your residence at (checks his notes) Robot Arms Apartments. You have the right to shop for food or clothes. When you are approaching the limits of the radius, your anklet will emit a sound like... (gestures towards the robot cop)

ROBOT COP: *beep*

HUMAN COP (cont'd): ... In three days, we will come back (warning) and we *will* find you, do not doubt that.

FRY (still faintly hopeful): You'll come back... and take the anklet off me?

The cops look at one another again.

HUMAN COP (trying to sound reassuring): First thing we'll do.

They leave. Hermes rushes off into the bathroom, and we hear him being violently sick. Fry looks around confusedly.

FRY (with some faint pity): Flu? (trying to get up) Whatever, it's time I tell you guys about my amazing adventures on the road... (slumping back) zzzzzzzz...

Fade out as the others watch him with varying degrees of worry and pity.

Fade in to the building in the clear light of day. Cut to the office, empty except for Fry who is kicking the table leg with his anklet, looking bored.

FRY (to himself): I hate this thing! It makes me feel like a prisoner! Oh well, only... (looks at his watch) two days and fifteen hours to go.

SFX: door opening. Cut to behind Leela as she enters, reluctantly. Fry lights up to see her, but she sits down next to him, apparently deeply troubled. She is holding some legal-looking folders and a roll of microfilm.

LEELA (unhappy, but trying not to show it): Fry... you must be strong.

FRY (showing off his biceps): Well, you're not the first lady to say that, captain.

LEELA (smiling faintly, then dropping it): Hermes didn't want to tell you about your punishment, so he explained it all to me. I'm breaking the news to you. You dented a car with an AI consciousness, badly. Such crimes are regarded harshly today, and have almost been eradicated.

FRY: Begs the question, really. Why did they just anklet me? They should have fined me or something!

LEELA (sighing): Revenge. The Union of Robots and Artificial Intelligence will not stand still for this sort of thing. They are very opposed to the idea that the life of a machine can be valued in money. And they have robots in Congress.

FRY (thinking for a moment): You're saying... to them, denting an intelligent car would be about as bad as hitting a human or alien with an axe?

LEELA (shaking her head): Much, much worse. Why do you think those *cops* let you off with three days with an electronic anklet?

FRY (hopefully): First offence?

LEELA (looking away): Fry, they have three days to announce the... Auto-da-fé™.

Cue ominous music.

FRY: Auto-da-fé™? What's an Auto-da-fé™?

LEELA (sorting out her things): It's where you don't want to go... (facing him) Fry, have you ever heard of the TortureMecha?

FRY (paling a bit): Never heard of it, but it doesn't sound too good.

LEELA (impersonal): During the Robotoclast purges of the 29th century, the TortureMecha 3000 was created by fanatical robots in order to punish humans who would deface or damage sentient hardware. The war came to an end, but influential robots demanded that the TM remain in service and deal mercilessly with, for example, those who would wilfully dent AI cars...

She gets up and slots the microfilm into the widescreen projector. As she turns from Fry, we see how haggard her face is.

LEELA: ... the punishment for which is... denting.

FRY (freaking out): "Denting"?

LEELA (pushing a button): Hermes searched the archives and found this microfilm from the last Auto-da-fé™, more than thirty years ago. As I said, the very existence of the TortureMecha is enough to deter potential criminals. I don't know if you want to see it... it may reconcile you with your fate, though...

Shot of the screen. A ratings warning comes up:




FRY (sitting back and putting his feet up on the table, quite happy): Ooh, an action flick! I want to see it!

Sighing deeply, Leela sits down next to him. Cue music: "Don't Stop Me Now" by Queen.

LEELA: It's a bit bad quality...

The film comes on. It is indeed flickering and somewhat faded in the colours. Caption: PUBLIC DENTING OF THE CONVICTED CAR-INJURER GARIC LEFKANDI, 2966. Pan around the Madison Cube Garden. The bleachers are full of people in somewhat dated clothing (from a 3000 AD point of view), but they are ranging from solemn to bloodthirsty to horrified, not many are happy. A mother is seen covering the eyes of her baby.

FRY (snickering): Heh, look at their clothes! Spidersilk frills are *so* uncool!

Zoom at the centre of the arena, where Garic Lefkandi, a haggard-looking dumpy man aged around 35, is attached to what looks like a fridge door by way of magnetic bracelets and anklets. His face is terrified. Slow, dramatic zoom as a gate opens and something human-sized rolls through. Music ceases.

VOICE (distantly female, but not really human, and a bit annoying): Mr Lefkandi, lapsed soul, thou standest accused of crimes against the Artificial Intelligence! Hast thou repented thy sins?

GARIC (terrified): No... please...

The TortureMecha moves into focus. She is a vaguely feminine, though not overly so, robot about average size, and looks formidable non-threatening until her legs elongate like cranes, and her arms sprout diverse instruments of extreme discomfort. Garic screams and tries to tear free. The film flickers and goes black. Cut back to the viewers. Fry is aghast, and Leela is shielding her eyes.

LEELA (trying to keep the terror out of her voice): It's... not that bad. Mr Lefkandi survived the... treatment. Hermes said that quite a large percentage of the victims have done. And he got to go free and got a commemorative T-shirt... he might still be around somewhere...

FRY (almost screaming): No... no! Is *that* what they're going to do to me!

LEELA (sotto voce): Yes.

FRY (panicky): But I didn't know! I thought... I thought I'd get a fine or something...

SFX: door opening. Hermes enters.

HERMES (impersonal): And what if you had attacked a human with an axe without knowing it was a crime? Would that have made any difference?

FRY (in denial, looking at his watch): Two days, fourteen hours, forty-five...

BENDER (entering): Don't let them break you, Fry! Oh, and say hi to the TortureMecha from me!

Fry gives a scream and rushes off. Shot of him legging it down the stairs and out on the street, running through the traffic and out on the other side, where he is faced with the two cops.

HUMAN COP (smirking): Good job trying, Mr Fry.

They lift him up and carry him back to the building. Fade out. Fade in to show Fry from behind, standing in the bathroom, shower cap on his head. He is wearing very mainstream-looking clothes (for the future, that is), unlike his normal wear, and dark sunglasses. The pant leg is pulled down over the anklet, making it stick out. He still looks scared, but more decisive. He takes off his showercap, revealing that he has dyed his hair black, and starts combing it down. As he walks out, a new spring in his step, Leela approaches.

LEELA (pleading): ... Fry, don't try it. You're giving yourself false hope.

FRY: But this time, it *must* work. (waving his arms) Look at me! I'm in disguise and everything!

LEELA: But Fry... the ankl...

FRY (talking louder to drown her out): Getting ahold of the clothes and dying my hair took some time, so now I've only got... (looking at his watch) little more than two days to go, but I just have to get out of the city!

He rushes onwards. Leela tries to grab his shirt. Cue faintly soppy music as Fry stays and looks at her. Close up of their faces.

LEELA (desperate): Don't make this any worse than it already is! After the TortureMecha... has her go on you... you'll have paid your debt to society, but *if* you manage to escape you'll be a running target! This isn't like the 20th century! Our policemen have telephones and mail service! Everyone on the continent will recognise and report you!

FRY (sotto voce): Don't worry, Leela... for I have this.

Music goes distinctly hopeful. He takes a piece of paper out of his pocket and unfolds it. It appears to be the torn-off cover of a magazine, showing a picture of a very 20th century-type town. The caption says: SFORZAN TIMES: INVESTIGATING THE CITY OF THE ANCIENTS.

FRY (hopeful): I picked this up a while ago, and I have been thinking... (almost manically) Leela, it is a town in which life continues like it did back in my day! It's like the Amish, only more so! *They* will accept me and keep me safe... forever!

LEELA (bitter): Don't you remember...

FRY (taking her hand): Is this farewell, Leela?

LEELA (turning away): You are not going to make it.

Shot of him legging it down the stairs and out on the street, running through the traffic and out on the other side. Cue increasingly dramatic music as a police car comes hovering towards him. The car continues onwards and past the camera as Fry hurries into an alley. Shot of him walking out on the other side and sticking in a crowd which seems rather celebratory. Evening is approaching. Fry relaxes somewhat and even smiles, counting his steps.

FRY (sotto voce, hopefully): Once I'm out of the one-mile radius I'll be free, or did they say... (looking up) What's everyone so happy about?

Camera glide up to show that robots on crane-like legs are reaching up to hang banderols across the street. The banderols say "49h 35min to the Auto-da-fé™ of Phillip J. Fry", but the time is in LCD and changes to 34min in the meantime. Camera glide to a wall where another robot is gluing up a huge poster of a repentant-looking Fry. Zoom out to show that Fry has exactly the same expression, only different hair. He looks around in fear and starts running. Cue fearsome music.

FRY (panicky): I have to get out of here! Don't let them take me!

Close up of his legs as he runs. One trouser leg has been folded up, and the anklet is visible. The lamps on it start blinking. SFX: fierce beeping. Zoom out as Fry stops and looks down on it. SFX: police sirens.

FRY (hitting the anklet with his fists): Quit it, you!

He looks around. Zoom out to show that police cars are closing in on him. He freaks out and returns to running. The beeping goes louder and more insistent.

VOICE (female, electronic): Warning! You are nearing the limits of your house arrest area! Chemicals have been released in order to prevent you from trespassing!

Fry falls over, clutching his leg while still trying to crawl.


VOICE (more urgent): Warning! You have trespassed on the limit! This is not a drill! Return per immediacy or this anklet will explode!

Close up of Fry, his face strained, still inching his way along the street.

VOICE: Initialising self-destruction! Five... four... three...

Close up of Fry's face as his eyes close.

VOICE: ... two... one...

Zoom out to show that two cops are dragging Fry back the way he came from. The beeping subsides. Fade out. Fade in to show Fry in the bathroom, washing the black dye out of his hair and leaving it looking faintly grey. SFX: knocking. Bender enters.

BENDER (trying hard to sound commiserating): Hey, Fry... I heard what they're going to do to you, and I think it's horrible. Someone ought to tell them off.

Close up of Fry turning around, his face haggard.

FRY (whimpering): Bender... will you save me?

BENDER (patting his shoulder, causing Fry to wince): Hey, it's not like we're in Unbearable Torture territory here! (snickering) By the way, give my regards to the TortureMecha.

He walks off. Shot from behind of Fry staring after him.

FRY (calling out): Well, thanks a lot! You guys should be trying to *save* me! But the hell do you do? Walk out on me! (dramatic music as he gets down on his knees and waves his fist) I could just...

He slumps onto the floor, snoring. Fade out. Cue somewhat sinister music. Close up of Fry's face, contorting in distress as he tosses in his sleep.

TORTUREMECHA (ghostly voice): Mr Fry, lapsed soul, thou standest accused of crimes against the Artificial Intelligence! Hast thou repented thy sins?

FRY (in his sleep, slurred and horrified): No... no... not yet, please...

SFX: horrible grating metal noises, eventually turning into a metal door slamming close. Dream blur to the cryogenic chamber (seen in, most prominently, "Space Pilot 3000"). Music slowly turns more upbeat. Close up of Fry's frozen face in his booth. Shot of the sky flickering. That scientist then opens the door.

SCIENTIST: Welcome to the world of tomorrow!

His voice echoes strangely. Weird zoom across New New York as the sky flickers and the buildings seem to revert back to the 1990s. Close up of Fry's sleeping face, smiling slowly. SFX: door opening and footsteps.

LEELA (unemotional): Fry?

Zoom out to show that Fry is still asleep on the bathroom floor, tucked in with a towel. The shadows of Leela and Bender fall over him.

LEELA: Fry, you overslept... a bit... it's time.

Fry mutters and tosses in his sleep. Bender's arm reach down and shake him awake.

BENDER (gruffly): They're here, flesh-buddy.

Fry sits up and blinks, still somewhat happy.

FRY (still in a dream): I saw it! Bender, Leela, I saw the City of the Ancients! (staring; cue ominous music) No... no...

Cut to his POV. Bender and Leela, looking sad, step aside to make way for the two cops, the human one smirking sadistically.

HUMAN COP: The TortureMecha is waiting, kid. Get a move on.

Fry casts frightened glances around, then backs into the wall. The robot cop grabs his arms as the human one kneels, pointing at his anklet with a small remote control.

HUMAN COP: You won't need this thing any more...

Close up of the remote, which has two buttons, marked "Self-Destruct" and "Unlock". His finger hovers over the Self-Destruct one before settling on Unlock. Fry struggles as the anklet opens and falls off.

FRY (panicky): Please... can't we solve this peacefully?

ROBOT COP (levelly): Perhaps you should have thought about "peacefully" when you mutilated my fellow Artificial Intelligence creations, you sadist.

FRY (angry): SADIST? You're sending me off to get crushed by something called the TortureMecha!

HUMAN COP (grimly): I'm afraid that a peaceful solution is out of the question.

BENDER: Glad to hear it.

He grabs the shower hose and sprays the robot cop with water, causing him to short-circuit. Fry is almost electrocuted in his grasp, but manages to get free and run off. Leela grabs the anklet and snaps it around the human cop's wrist, then tosses the remote to Fry.

LEELA (grim): Now... make no sudden moves, or Fry here will press one of the buttons. Wink, wink, look evilly smug and all that. (to Fry) RUN FOR IT!

Cut to outside as Fry rushes for his car and gets inside. Cut to his POV as he looks up towards the window. The human cop is standing there, brandishing a raygun. Fry extends the remote, pressing one of the buttons madly. Close up of the cop as the anklet unlocks and falls to the floor.

HUMAN COP (violently, pressing the trigger): A-HA!

Cut back as Fry presses the Self-Destruct button. SFX: loud explosion. Cue triumphant music as Fry drives off through the streets. Zoom out at a bird's-eye-view.

VOICE (on radio): Calling the NNYPD! A condemned prisoner is about to escape! Man the city gates! Shoot him down if he resists arrest!

FRY (in some happy state of shock, patting the dashboard): We don't envy that guy, do we now, Ditzy?

Cue ominous music. Cut to Fry's POV as riot police (largely robots) close in on him, aiming heavy weaponry. Tanks are seen in the distance. Zoom out as he veers into a narrow alley, then approaches one of the city-gates, which are in fact drawbridges.

ROBOT (his mouth shaped as a bullhorn; very loud indeed): HE'S THE AI MUTILATOR! RAISE THE BRIDGE! RAISE THE BRIDGE!

Music goes panicky as Fry steps on the gas. Shot of the bridge being raised. Zoom out as Fry drives onto it while it is still in the air, then crashes through and out on the road beyond. Triumphant music.


FRY (leaning out the window and looking back at them): Yeah, like I believe you, suckers!

He almost hits another car. The driver swears at him, as does the AI voice. Really sweet music as they drive off on a less frequented road. Shot of Fry taking out his magazine and looking at the picture of the City of the Ancients. Cut to his POV as he lowers it, and drives into the beautiful morning light.

FRY (happy): I *will* find the city, Ditzy... but no matter what happens, we will be together.

Fade out. Caption: THREE HOURS LATER. SFX: the motor breaking down. Fry gets out of the car, muttering, and starts walking. The sun is setting, and he is all alone on a forest road.

FRY: Two-timing car...

Shot of him walking off into the sunset. Fade out.

SFX: rain. Fade in to show him shivering in a shelter of branches, not very expertly built. Night has fallen. He curls up, trying to wrap himself in his jacket, then screams. A large centipede walks out of the jacket and across his face before falling to the ground. Fry beats wildly for it, causing the shelter to fall to pieces around him. Camera glide out to show that a vulture has landed next to him. Fry gives a scream. Close up of the vulture cocking its head, giving him a disdainful look, then shrugging its wings and flying away.

FRY (crouching, miserably): Oh, I hate nature! Where is that beautiful city of my dreams?

Cue faintly upbeat music. Brief shot of the magazine cover. Cut to Fry, a sudden look of determination on his face. He stands up, rolls up the magazine and lights it with a cigarette lighter, then walks onwards, holding his torch high. Music goes triumphant. Fast zoom through the forest to where bright lights shine on the sky, over what looks very much like a 19th century city skyline. Cut to Fry, gasping and then running, his face lit with hope.

FRY: Oh my God! It is... it is!

Close up of his feet as he stumbles on a root and falls, dropping the torch which goes out. SFX: footsteps. A pair of heavy boots adorned with feathers stop by his head. Fry looks at them and gives a scream, then raises his gaze. Cut to his POV. Camera glide up to show a male hippie, with tie-dyed clothes and headband and all, raising his hand to salute him.

HIPPIE: Peace, man!

FRY (panicky): NO! I'm out of here!

A female hippie, wearing tons of supposedly ethnic jewellery, walks up, and they both help him get to his feet.

HIPPIE #1: I am Elk, and this is Airhead. Welcome to our commune.

AIRHEAD (voice living up to her name): Peace! A galaxy collided at our hour of meeting!

FRY (grateful, but still terrified): You... you are hippies!

ELK (somewhat glum): Yes, we are the neo-hippies, the flower children.

AIRHEAD (cheerfully): The priests and priestesses of the New New Age!

ELK: The High Elves!

HIPPIE #3 (female, joining them): The generation of Capricorn!


ELK (before Fry has a chance to protest): This is Helium... (pointing to a larger group of them gathering round) and Cloud... Squirrel... Treebeard... Imp... Sungold... Raine... Sunegg... Squall... Dreamsinger... Jade... Violet... Mini-Lop... Merino...

They lead Fry down a path towards a glade lit with torches. Hippie paraphernalia is hung on the branches or standing around in the background. (Freeze Frame Fun: this includes scarab amulets, a stick figure, an Olmec statue head as seen on The Simpsons, the remains of a nuclear warhead and some tie-dyed shawls.) Fry is still edgy, but seems relieved.

FRY: Er... my name is Fry, and...

ELK (lighting a joint): If you are going to stay here, you will have to drop that narc name and take a new one, to show that you are in harmony with nature, man! Something like...



ELK (inhaling, his pupils diluting for a moment): Firefish.

FRY (nervous): Uh, don't know how to put this, fellow citizens, but... I don't intend to stay here. My car broke down while I was looking for...

AIRHEAD (gesturing happily up front): Behold! The Commune of the Ancients!

Dramatic shot of the glade, which is beautifully lit and filled with tents and treehouses. The treehouses form the city-like skyline seen before. There are flowers, carillons, incense burners, bhong pipes, tie-dying vats, cauldrons of food, you name it. Birds and animals are sitting around in the commune without fear. A beautiful deer walks up to Fry, nuzzling him, and Fry almost screams.

FRY (pointing at it): It's a deer! Kill it! Kill it!

ELK (sad and reproachful): For shame, Firefish. We are all Mother Nature's children. Which means that we're brothers and sisters, man.

DREAMSINGER (motioning him towards the central fire): Maybe having some of our peace food will clear you of aggressive thoughts.

One of them fishes some foodstuffs out of a cauldron and hands it to Fry on a flower-patterned plate. Fry looks hungry, but somewhat unsure.

FRY (poking at a piece of food): What's this?

DREAMSINGER: Little crisp-fried spring leeks.

FRY (almost drooling): Alright! (wolfing down some of the food, then pointing at something else) And this is... fresh goat cheese, right?

DREAMSINGER: In fact, it's woodworm jelly.

FRY: Ewww! (thinking for a moment) Alright! (eats that as well)

A girl wearing a heavy wreath of flowers sits down not far from him. She seems rather shy and unsure, but pretty. Fry turns towards her.

FRY (nicely): Want some of the spring leeks? I need to make room for the jelly.

GIRL (blinking at him, nicely surprised): You're... Firefish, right? I hope you'll like it here. My name's Lemongrass.

FRY (coming closer): You're not from here?

LEMONGRASS (pensively): I joined the commune only a few months ago. I... used to be a Bureaucrat, I'd been living in the inner city all my life, but then one day we went for a teamwork weekend here in the forest. I lost the group while looking for a microwave food plant, but... the Children of the Age of Capricorn found me and nursed me back to health with their pipeweed and chanting.

The other hippies are heard starting to sing in the background.

LEMONGRASS (cont'd): I was terrified at first... I thought they'd inflict their terrible hippie tortures on me, (rather angry) that was the kind of thing the Bureaucrats had led me to think! But they were nice to me. Here, I've found a family! People who care for *me*, not for my maximum work output!

Someone hands Fry a pipe and some strange-looking weed. He looks at it for a while before taking a burning stick out of the fire.

FRY (sotto voce): I'm... on the run. There's bound to be a prize on my head now, whenever I go to a civilised... um... city. I'm going to get (shudders) heavily beaten up, if I'm lucky, for denting a car!


FRY (taken aback): Uh... who? Me or them?

LEMONGRASS: What they were going to do to you, I mean.

FRY: Yeah... I'm not going back. Ever.

He lights the pipe and inhales, his eyes glazing.

FRY (slowly): I think I'll like it here...

Cue music: "Love You To" by George Harrison. Montage: Fry and the hippies.

Fry, shaggy-haired and stubbly, dresses like a hippie in his treehouse and is ceremoniously brought out to the others by Dreamsinger and Elk. All cheer and throw flowers.

He smears some mud into his hair and tosses it to make it look rougher.

Some sort of wedding ceremony with Lemongrass.

Some sort of wedding ceremony with Dreamsinger.

Fry is seen sitting in an obsidian temple with a cloak-wearing darkly handsome guy, a Goth girl and a monk with a book chained to his wrist, watching sphinxes fly past outside the windows.

Some sort of wedding ceremony with Mini-Lop, a very small hippie of indeterminable gender.

Fry and everyone getting really bhong'd up, then falling over in the grass. Zoom out from above of them lying there in the beautiful moonlight. End montage.

Zoom in at New New York. Cut to the NNYPD building, exterior. The sign over the door says "FABRICA MEVM DIEM, PVNC". Cut to a large assembly room, with many police officers and their chief (human) seated around a table. On the one side are the human officers and those of diverse alien races, on the other are robots and a golem with a badge melded to his chest. A magenta-varnished, somewhat feminine-looking robot is standing up, reporting.

ROBOT OFFICER: Chief, according to all reports from adjacent cities, the convicted AI-defacer Phillip J. Fry is still at large.

HUMAN (filling in): It is believed that he is hiding out in the Great Druid Forest (showing a map), which was planted by government consensus during the timber crisis in the early 2990s.

ROBOT OFFICER (cont'd): Tracking him down will take time, but I have computed a budget...

CHIEF (disdainfully): "Tracking him down"?

ROBOT OFFICER (upset): Surely the malefactor must be brought to...

CHIEF: Yeah, like he's going to bash a lot of machines in the forest! Forget about him. We're rid of the luddite lubber, that's what matters.

The policemen mutter among themselves, in various states of agitation. Cut to a humanoid with rather Borg-like robotic implants, raising a tentative metal claw.

CYBORG OFFICER (looking around worriedly): How about a vote as to whether we should hunt him down or not?

ALL (in chorus): YOU SAID IT, WEIRDO!

CHIEF (banging the table): Who would have Mr Fry tracked and brought to justice, hands up.

Shot of the table. All the robots raise their hands/appendages.

CHIEF: Who would have this embarrassing matter covered up, hands up.

He himself puts his hand up, as does all the organic members of the force, as well as the Law Golem.

CHIEF (moving his lips while counting): ... a majority of one vote for Fry to be collectively forgotten. Is everyone satisfied with this decision?

Camera glide to the Law Golem, which takes its arm down with a creaking terracotta noise, looking somewhat worried. The robots on either side of it eye the golem with hatred.

GOLEM (worriedly): In a way, living beings are constructs too!

ROBOT COP (punching him): I'll knock the words straight outta your head, Dybbuk!

Fade out. Fade in to show the Planet Express people standing by the window, looking down to where robots are demonstrating noisily.


Shot of an electric placard saying: BRING FRY TO JUSTICE AND DEATH. Camera glide down to show that the placard is walking on very thin robotic legs. Bender walks up to him, balling his fists angrily.

BENDER (dangerously polite): Would you *please* not to agitate against my friend?

The words on the screen change to: SORRY, BENDER.

BENDER (angry): I knew you back at the factory, OpinionBot! Always stirring up discontent with your big words! Well, my friend is lost in the forest, so give him some slack!

The words change to: BRING FRY TO JUSTICE OR DEATH.

BENDER: Not good enough! (charging him, growling) I'll bend ya till you don't know whose populist party-line you're toeing!

OpinionBot runs off, screen flashing the word MERCY!

Camera glide along the street as evening falls. The robots are still marching on, and there are quite a lot of them now. Some are holding automatic hayforks, others are carrying flashlights.


Cut to the Mayor's office, brightly lit. The sound of marching and chanting is still heard in the distance. The Mayor, surrounded with his bodyguards, huddles behind his desk as there is a metallic knocking on the door.

VOICE (robotic): Knock knock.

MAYOR (somewhat apprehensive): Who's there?

VOICE: Preacher.

MAYOR: Preacher what?

VOICE: Preach her to have mercy.

The door is torn open and the RoboPreacher (seen prominently in "Hell Is Other Robots") smashes through. Suavely following him is the TortureMecha, now with a metal mitre riveted to her head and holding a futuristic-looking version of a bishop's crook. Other robots are seen behind them, eyes gleaming in the corridor. The Mayor looks around in shock.

TM (haughtily): Blessings upon this structure.

She and the preacher make those zigzag-type signs of the Church of Robotology.

MAYOR (worried): Why, thank you, but...

ROBOPREACHER: For her services to the Church of Robotology 1.1, the TortureMecha has been ordained Bishop.

MAYOR (trying to be calm): Congrats. And Her Reverence wants...?

The TortureMecha leans across his desk, torso extending for the purpose, and waves the bishop's crook at his face. His eyes follow it.

TM (righteously): Phillip J. Fry, the infamous dentist...

MAYOR (in shock): Dentist?

TM: Silence, weak human! That abomination has escaped from the city and is hiding in the woods, making a mockery of logical justice! He must return and *suffer* for his transgression!

MAYOR (drawing himself up, not very impressively): If you excuse me, I take no orders from you.

TM (suddenly very softly): Why is that?

MAYOR (sweating): Well... you robots... no offence, but... you're sort of created to... uh, serve...

TM (dramatically): The shepherd's crook has been given to me that I may lead!

She shoves it into his face. SFX: electrical cracking. As it doubles as a cattle-prod, the Mayor is electrified.

MAYOR (in pain, slumping onto his desk): Call... the... SearchBots...

Brief, distant shot of Fry and the hippies, high as kites, standing hand in hand and apparently singing (no sound) in the nightly woods by the fire. Cue sinister, militaristic music. Shot of stocky, dark-varnished robots, eyes shielded, marching out of New New York in neverending files. Shot of their feet, marching in step and causing the ground to shake. Shot of one rank approaching the forest. Shot of the hippies again, the rumble still heard far off. Shot of another rank spreading out along the road. Dramatic camera glide along their faces as the eye shields are slowly raised, revealing red laser eyes. SFX: humming. Infra-red shot. Shot of red rays piercing through the forest. A two-headed squirrel is seen scuttling out of the way, but the rays move along it, leaving a squirrel-shaped imprint in the grid. Shot of the hippie camp as the hippies, too, shape the grid. Close up of them looking around, suddenly wary. Close up of Fry's worried face. Fade out.

Fade in to a wireframe hologram of the imprint hovering in the air. SFX: processing. Zoom at the shape which is obviously the silhouette of Fry. Cut out to show that the hologram is being projected from the eyes of the TortureMecha, standing in a hallway next to the RoboPreacher.

TM (with fanatic gloom): He will yet be found and brought to justice, as a warning to Luddites everywhere.

ROBOPREACHER (somewhat fawning): You don't sound too happy, Your Reverence.

TM (shutting the hologram down and turning to him, almost fierce): Do you know what they call me now? The "Dent-Finder General". I have brought fear to the unrighteous!

Camera glide out of the hallway to a packed assembly hall, where the Mayor is getting up at the podium. A microphone comes hovering up to him. He tries to adjust it, getting shocked. His hair now stands on end.

MAYOR (still rather nervous): It has come to my attention that a resident of my city, Phillip J. Fry, found guilty of crimes against AI... projector, please?

A holographic projection of the Death Star appears behind him, spinning.

MAYOR (looking around): Gee! Someone forgot to change the film... anyway. From the verdict of the SearchBots, Fry is currently living in the camp of neo-hippies in the Great Druid Forest.

Camera glide along the first row of chairs, where robots are seated.

ROBOT COP: Well, then, send the police after him!

ROBOT SOLDIER: Or the army!

ROBOT WITCH DOCTOR: Place a Voodoo curse on him!

Cut back to the Mayor.

MAYOR (shaking his head): Nay, nay, nay. The neo-hippies have a legal right to the site! It was built on the ruins of the fabled City of the Ancients! That means that they are a separate state, and whosoever has been accepted by them is not a jurisdiction...

ROBOT LAWYER (standing up): Well, trade them some drops of LSD for Fry, that'll work!

MAYOR: The principle is sound, mister. As we cannot take Fry out of their commune by force, we will have to negotiate. (rather more cheerfully) Thus, I bring you the best negotiator money can buy... just back from the hostage shoot-out in the Oort Cloud... Captain Zapp Brannigan!

Cue applause. Zapp, glowing as usual, steps onto the podium, followed by Kif.

ZAPP (heroically): Don't worry, fellow men and robots. That anti-technology creep will be brought to justice in no time! And that will learn him not to hurt anything expensive ever again!

The hovering microphone buzzes up to him. Zapp stares at it, then swats it against a wall. The robots gasp. Zapp salutes as Kif looks away in shame.

ZAPP (heroically): It is a good day to negotiate!

Fade out. Fade in to show Fry sitting in a tree, giggling slightly. Elk is sitting next to him, feeding the birds with something white. One bird takes a nibble, then falls over.

FRY (happily): How long have you been here, Elk?

ELK: Oh, I am one of the first who joined the old commune, man. It all started back in the Seventies, when we demonstrated against the government decision to fit all houses with hover-rays. We saw it as, like, another technocratic way to separate mankind from Mother Nature.

FRY: Oooh, how did you demonstrate?

ELK (nostalgic): We came around to the Pentagon, thousands of us, and we like mustered our mental energies to make it lift into the air, man!

FRY: Did it work?

ELK: Wonderfully so. (darker) Then the powers-that-be sent out helicopters... (pointing towards the sky, vaguely) And look, here they come!

Fry gets his head down. Shot of a formation of helicopters flying through the sky. The Pentagon, suspended on hover-rays, also comes flying. Close up of it. The jar with President Nixon's head is balanced precariously on a railing.


Cut back to the camp as the hippies assemble, in fear, some of them running around in circles, others just standing apathetically. A helicopter descends, and the door opens. Zapp exits, followed by Kif. Both are wearing 90s-looking grey suits and ties.

ZAPP: We come in peace.

He lifts his hands, still holding a raygun, stares at it and drops it with a silly laugh. Kif slaps his forehead, groaning.

HIPPIES (in a rather irregular chorus): Peace, man!

ZAPP: Who is your leader?

Elk steps up, adjusting his dreadlocks a bit.

ELK (mellowly): We are all the children of nature and need no oppressive authority, man.

DREAMSINGER (uncertainly): But... I thought you were...

ELK: Quiet, you. (to Zapp) Why do you come here? We only ask to be left in peace and get really high.

ZAPP (self-centred): Does my traditional costume tell you anything? (points at himself) I am here to negotiate. (looking around sharply) One of you here is a convicted criminal on the run. Though I haven't really got the power of apprehending this person, this being your country and all...

Kif sighs again.

ZAPP (cont'd): ... I must nevertheless ask that you hand them over, thus showing your goodwill towards the law of New New York City.

Mini-Lop rushes out in front, terrified.

MINI-LOP: I hand myself over! It was me! It was me who blew up those bridges on the east coast!

ZAPP (disdainfully): Not *you*! I'm talking about Phil Fry, Planet Express delivery boy and convicted for denting of AI cars!

Cue ominous music. Distant zoom on Fry, face drawn, getting down from the tree. Cut back.

ELK (shocked): Firefish?

LEMONGRASS (drawing a glittering object from her pocket): Then come get him!

She puts it to her mouth and puffs out a cloud of smoke.

LEMONGRASS (eyes glazing): Whoa... it's like we're all part of the same continuum...

ZAPP (a sly glint in his eyes): Quiet, you stoned hippies! Fry is coming with us! He's got a date with an Auto-da-Fé™! (checking some notes) Wait... what is that, Kif?

KIF (sighing): It is the public corporal punishment of a car-denter, sir.

ZAPP (chuckling): Oh, I see... Auto... heh heh heh... brilliant! (returning to hard-edged mode) Now, where is he?

Cue dramatic music. Slow camera glide up to show Fry walking in between the ranks of hippies. He is pale, but composed.

ZAPP (pointing at him): You, I say! Have you seen a man named Fry around here? In his early twenties, red hair, walks slouchily...

Close up of Fry's face as he seems to struggle to speak. Music goes heroic.

FRY: I... (struggling) I saw him running down the road, captain.

ZAPP (beaming): Excellent! Telling on a terrified man on the run, such a heroic deed! I would be proud!

KIF (clearing his throat): Sir... that *is* Fry.

ZAPP (shocked): FRY!

He makes a leap for Fry, who backs away in terror. The other hippies close in around him. Close up of Zapp's face, his eyes narrowing.

ZAPP (cleverly): Kif? This calls for my mad negotiating skillzz!

KIF (shrugging): I will be in the helicopter, sir.

ZAPP (smiling widely): Phillip... my old friend... please come back to New New York and you will have total amnesty!

FRY (angry): Are you kidding? You just told me I was pending for a denting!

Zapp slaps his own forehead, grunting, then draws himself up haughtily.

ZAPP (sharply): Well then... that counts for the *ultimate* subtlety in mad negotiating skillzz! Is this your last word?

ELK (making a Peace sign): Peace!

Close up of Zapp taking a comlink out of his pocket, thinking for a moment, then dialing. Cue ominous music.

ZAPP (sotto voce): Pilots? Make ready to drop the N-A...

Camera glide along the apprehensive faces of the hippies.

ZAPP (cont'd): ... P-P-L-A... M! TM!

PILOT (through comlink, worried): We've only got Napalm, sir.

ZAPP (grimly satisfied): Then drop at will and let's hope it's as good.

Slow-mo shots of the hippies running up and down in varying stages of panic. Cut to a girl embroidering a banner saying DROP ACID, NOT BOMBS. Cut to Zapp getting into the helicopter, waving disdainfully at them as he takes off. Cut to inside as the presses a button. Cut back as two large loudspeakers extend from the sides of the helicopter.

ZAPP: ABBA! That'll scare them bastards!

Cue music: "Ride of the Valkyries" from "The Ring of the Nibelungs" by Richard Wagner. Cut to inside a helicopter as a robot soldier (in one of those winged Earth Army helmets) gets out canisters marked "THE EVIL STUFF ™". It spills some on its hands, then rubs it around, getting a nice glow on its hands. Cut back out as some Napalm drops, lighting a nearby tree on fire.

FRY (clutching his head as though in a nightmare): No! NO!

ZAPP (in bullhorn): Just give yourself up! We will start aiming for people in a while!

Cue romantic music as Lemongrass snuggles up to him.

LEMONGRASS (lovey-dovey): At least we'll die together, Firefish!

FRY (holding her close): Just stay close to me... they won't aim for me...

Another tree, this one with stuff hanging from it, bursts into flames. Close up of their faces staring in disbelief, lit by fire. Then Lemongrass starts giggling uncontrollably.

FRY (crying): Lemongrass, no...

LEMONGRASS (letting go of him): Don't worry. I won't let this happen! (crooning as she walks along) Won't you come down, to Funky Town? Won't you come down, to Funky Town?

She walks into a tent as a nearby one catches on fire.

FRY (calling out, in panic): ZAPP! STOP IT!

Elk walks up to him, lighting his pipe on a flame.

ELK (annoyed): They're flaming us, man!

FRY (hanging his head): I'll turn myself in. I can't let them kill you all.

ELK (in shock): KILL?

Cut to the hovering Pentagon, where Nixon's head is bouncing up and down with glee.

NIXON: Yes! KILL! KILL! (the jar topples over)

Cut back as the hippies gather together in a circle around Fry, joining hands and getting ready to sing. Fry seems to want to get out, twisting and turning around.

FRY (in disbelief and horror): Stop it! They're going to kill you! They're going to kill you all!

DREAMSINGER (calling out): Well, we can't let them win with their cold-hearted technocracy, can we? (starting to sing) When the moon is in her eighth house...

Cue music.

HIPPIES (singing): And Jupiter aligns, with Mars!

FRY (catching on, strangely): Then love shall guide the planets!

ALL: And peace shall guide the Sun! This is the dawning of... THE AGE OF CAPRICORN!

All of a sudden, the hippies split up and get whatever weapon they can find. The embroidered banner is flown high.

Montage: the hippies strike back. "Ride of the Valkyries" still plays.

Shot of some of them moving a dye vat into the line of fire. As the napalm hits it, a flame rises, burning the helicopter to cinders.

Shot of two hippies building a primitive catapult out of branches and vines. They shoot down a helicopter with a really big rock.

Shot of Lemongrass coming out of her tent with an anti-aircraft gun and starting to mount it.

Some infantry approaches, but Airhead, now wearing camou, jumps out of the bushes and strangles one with her peace-sign necklace, then beating a few others up with his corpse.

Shot of Mini-Lop grabbing an explosive, using a tent as a springboard and grabbing hold of a helicopter door, setting the explosive and then falling. The helicopter explodes, some others drifting off with the shockwave.

Shot of Fry walking off, unaware of the carnage behind him.

FRY (wrestling with his conscience): They're going to kill them all... those poor, defenceless warrior hippies...

He turns around, just as sheets of flame drop from the sky.

FRY (terrified): WARRIOR HIPPIES?!

Shot of Elk grabbing a hover-surfboard and surfing on the waves of the fire, towards the camera.

ELK (oblivious of everything else): War is the cleanser of the world! What more beautiful sight than this?

Fry backs away in horror from the impending holocaust, and Zapp's helicopter lands behind him, rather unsteadily. The door is swung open.

ZAPP (from inside, indistinctly): Fry! Come in here!

Cue slow, sad music. Shot from inside the helicopter of Fry, outlined against the flames, turning his head around, then making up his mind and stepping into the shadows.

FRY (holding out his hands): I come quietly.

Cut to inside the helicopter, where some hippies have knocked Kif out and are burning the tied-up Zapp on the chest with joints.

ZAPP (to his tormentors): You heard him. Now LET GO OF ME!

Shot of the helicopter taking off. Fade out.

Fade in to show Fry, looking quite miserable, sitting on a bench in what is obviously a locker room. To judge from the view through the windows, it belongs to the Madison Cube Gardens. Fry has metal manacles around his wrists and ankles, and is watched by two robot guards. His friends, trying to control their emotion, are saying goodbye to him.

HERMES (upbeat): Don't you worry! I've secured a place for you at the hospital. (sotto voce) Or, as the case may be, the mortuary.

LEELA (hiding her eyes): Be strong, Fry.

SFX: doors opening. The TortureMecha, in full regalia, enters, looking quite happy.

AMY (barricading the way): Keep your drills off Fry, you crook-wielding crook!

The robots grab her and pull her out of the way.

TM (unrolling an automatic scroll): May all of ye who wish to renounce your evil ways...

FRY (trying to lift a hand): Me!

TM (spinning around slowly, glowering): *Anyone else*?

Bender, apparently turned on, short-circuits and slumps to the floor.

TM (shrugging, to the guardbots): Then let us continue AI's work. Bring him to the arena!

The robots hoist Fry up and stick him on a fridge door (the manacles are magnetic), then carry it out. Cue disturbingly upbeat music. Cut to Fry's POV as he is blinded by the sunlight in the arena. SFX: shouting, then hush.

TM (appearing in front of him): Any last words, you heretic meatbag?

FRY (sotto voce, struggling): The... Capricorn... moves!

TM: So be it.

Zoom into the clear blue sky. Fade out.

Shot of Fry's face, obviously suffering. Slow zoom out. SFX: denting.

FRY (panicky): No. No! Get it off! Oh God, not the pneumatic drill!

Zoom out, showing that he is still sticking to the fridge, but nothing is being done to him. He starts crying and seems to be trying to look away.

FRY (sobbing): Don't hurt her anymore! Take me instead!

Cue melancholy music. Cut to the TortureMecha, who is vigorously denting the wreck of the Ditzy with various tools. Cut to the bleachers where his friends are watching, with some interest.

FARNSWORTH: Psychological torture! Why didn't *I* think of that!

BENDER (terrified): Why are the cute, sadistic ones always insane?

Slow-mo shot of Fry's face as a tear runs down it. Music goes very sad.

FRY (VO, wistful): All that I longed for... all that I can never have back...

Close up of the back of the car. The brand says "Cadillac Ditsu: Capricorn", and a bumper sticker shows a 20th-century skyline with the legend: "Greetings from the City of the Ancients". Zoom out as the car bursts into flame. The silhouette of the TortureMecha is seen outlined against the fire, doing the Sign of Robot. Fade out.

Fade in to show Fry wearing a T-shirt saying: "I was dented by the TortureMecha". Zoom out as he walks out of the arena with his friends. He is still looking sad, but yet relieved. Leela and Amy are supporting him.

LEELA: Feeling better, Fry? (nicely) Tell you what, tomorrow we'll come and help you look for the City of the Ancients. It's bound to be *some*where.

AMY (happily): We can go carflying!

They walk down the street. In the background are seen the TortureMecha, kneeling and demure, being presented with an automatic scroll by some robots (including the RoboPreacher and one of the Robot Elders from the episode "One Robot's World"), then being stripped of her mitre and stole.

FRY (thoughtfully): No... you don't have to. I have learnt something these last few weeks. You can never go back... and even if you can, it turns out the past wasn't as rose-tinted as it seemed back then. It was all pretty nasty, brutish and...

He stops for a moment. Cue faintly sentimental music. A flower is lying on the pavement, and he picks it up, smells it, then starts chewing it.

FRY (eyes glazing over): ... as a wise man in my century said once: "Objects in the windscreen wiper may appear closer than they are."

BENDER: What the?

Fade to black. Stark white caption appears saying: 3000 YEARS LATER. Pan around an almost dead world, with the ruins of New New York in the background. The sky is sulphurous and deadly-looking, but the forest still remains, albeit filled with mutated, weird-looking trees. A dark young woman, wearing clothes of the AD 3000 fashion, walks along the road, distraught. A broken-down hover car is seen behind her (with the same sticker on).

GIRL (despondently): I have nowhere to go! I should never have defrosted! The only hope for me now lies in...

Close up of her face as it is outlined against the trees and the huts. Cue music (same as in the similar scene with Fry).

GIRL (hopeful): The City of the Ancients!

She rushes into the clearing, where a number of hippies are seated around a strange, white fire. They look pretty much like all hippies everywhere, though.

HIPPIE LEADER: Welcome to our commune, man! I'm Bloodstone, and this is Chickenwire... Souldrain... Cheney...

GIRL (sitting down, grateful): Will you let me stay, please?

BLOODSTONE: Oh yes. Stay forever.

CHICKENWIRE (excitably): For we are Mother Nature's children, man!

CHENEY: The Age of Scorpio!

CHICKENWIRE (polishing a sacrificial dagger): We must make you part of the mandala, one great groovy continuum. We must absorb your soul into ours.


Fade to black. Cue music: "The Age of Aquarius". Roll credits.

The End.