Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

[SCENE: A Manhattan city sidewalk in the middle of a weekday afternoon. Ordinary New Yorkers, muppet and human alike, throng the streets. Christmas is in the air. The seven-foot tall monster operating the hot dog cart is wearing a red santa hat. A group of human and muppet carolers are singing “Carol of the Bells” on the corner, while Animal, patience hanging by a thread, hits a triangle in time with the music.

Pan to a muppet and a man standing side by side, facing the reader. The man is 40s, Asian, short greying hair, dubious expression. The muppet is Gonzo.]

Gonzo: Hello! My name is Gonzo the Great.

Leon: And I’m Leon Tao. The...pretty good, I guess. Who are you talking to again?

Gonzo: The readers! They are here for the story!

Leon: What story?

Gonzo: It is one of the most enduring tales in English literature! A beloved classic, dear to the hearts of people all over the world!

Leon: Huh. I thought it got canceled.

[A few feet down the sidewalk, Bean Bunny, riding a scooter, crashes fantastically into a cartload of singing cabbages, all of whom start complaining loudly.

While Leon is distracted by the commotion, Gonzo sets off down the sidewalk. Leon hurries to catch up.]

Leon: Hey, hang on, I have a legitimate question. How come you’re telling the story? Me and Harold go way back, you know? We’re like friends or something.

Gonzo: Let me check. (touches an earpiece, then looks directly at Leon) She says you’re an unreliable narrator.

Leon: Thanks for that.

[CUT TO elevator doors opening onto the 54th floor. Cheerful office workers, human and muppet, scurry around them. A holiday party is in progress. Trays of singing fruits abound.]

Gonzo: Nathan was dead to begin with.

Leon: Who’s Nathan?

Gonzo: As dead as a doornail. When he was alive, Nathan Ingram had been business partners with a reclusive genius by the name of Harold.

Leon: Wait, like, IFT Nathan Ingram? The tech guy who got blown up?

Gonzo: Nathan was a businessman, but his friend Harold was a visionary. The architect of a new age of human civilization. The Father of Artificial Intelligence. But Harold was also lonely. A solitary dreamer. As secret as the grave, and as solitary as an oyster.

Leon: Huh. He never said. (awkward) Guess it, uh, never came up.

Gonzo: Harold went by many names, but to his employees at Universal Heritage Insurance, he was known as Harold Wren.

Harold the Bird Muppet: (nesting on the outside of a window) No relation!

Gonzo: And every Christmas, he poured his generosity forth to all around him, especially his employees. Everyone who worked at Harold’s company looked forward to the winter holidays, and the food, gifts, vacations, and bonuses they received. But this year, something was different. Mr. Wren didn’t mingle with his employees as usual. Instead, he kept to his office, leaving his PA to preside over the annual Christmas party in his place.

Kermit: (knocks and peeks into the office) Excuse me, Mr. Wren?

Harold: Hello, Kermit. How’s the party going?

Kermit: Oh, the party’s going great. Everyone in the office is having fun. We saved you some cake?

Harold: Oh, how thoughtful. But I’m afraid I don’t have much of an appetite.

Kermit: (concerned) You should eat, Mr. Wren. You need to keep your strength up.

Gonzo: At that moment, who should arrive at the door but Nathan Ingram’s only son, Harold’s honorary nephew, Will.

Leon: There’s no one at the door, dude.

Will: (walking up, knocks on doorframe) Uncle Harold!

[Leon glares.]

Harold: (maneuvering his wheelchair away from the desk) Will, dear boy, how are you?

Will: Merry Christmas!

Harold: I thought you’d be back to your residency by now.

Will: My mom asked me to stick around through the holiday. I didn’t want to say no. They were divorced for years but uh, Dad’s death still hit her pretty hard.

Harold: Of course. Well, Christmas in the city should be pleasant. Any exciting plans?

Will: Not really in the mood for excitement, to be honest. We’ll have Christmas dinner, open presents. Might go to church, if she asks. What about you?

Harold: Oh, you know I’ve never been much for the holidays. Suppose I never saw much point to them.

Will: Well then, you’re going to hate my next question.

Harold: Oh dear.

Will: Come have dinner with us. You don’t have to do presents or carols or brandy eggnogs or whatever my mom and her friends have cooked up. Just dinner. You shouldn’t be alone at Christmas.

Harold: (wry) Does Olivia know you’re asking?

Will: It was Mom’s idea.

Harold: I see. I’ll call her, make my apologies.

Will: How’s your neck? You’re going to all your follow up appointments, right?

Harold: Tell you what, Will. Finish your residency, then you can be nosy about my medical affairs.

[Through the office window, we watch Will embrace his uncle. Harold holds him tight for a moment, then watches him leave, a little sadly.]

Harold: Kermit?

Kermit: (hurrying forward) Yes, Mr. Wren?

Harold: Have someone bring my car around. I think I’m finished here for the day.

Gonzo: (whispering) That’s us!

Leon: What’s us?

Gonzo: (pushing Leon out of frame) Go go go go!

[SCENE: A town car idling next to the curb. Leon is behind the wheel, and Gonzo is next to him in the passenger seat.]

Leon: Okay, I get it. We need to stick close to Harold so we’re gonna drive him home. Just tell me one thing: what happened to the guy who was supposed to drive?

[Through the windshield, we see Fozzie Bear explaining to a bewildered and skeptical Lionel Fusco that he has a license for all those rubber chickens somewhere, really he does.]

Leon: Huh. Comedy’s a tough business.

[The car begins making its way through midtown on a gloomy afternoon in December. Through the windows, we see Christmas decorations in shop windows, a group of muppet penguins skating in Rockefeller Center: all the usual trimmings of the season in New York.]

Gonzo: (VOICEOVER) Although Harold owned a lot of real estate in the city, he was making his home at Nathan’s loft just now. Perhaps this helped him feel closer to his old friend. Or perhaps he felt that the loft held secrets which might be dangerous if any but he were to uncover them. There was much that was mysterious in Nathan’s former home. It was full of shadows and sealed boxes and cold, dark monitors that once hummed with life, but now seemed to watch Harold’s every move.

Leon: (VOICEOVER) How can you possibly know all that? We’re not even there yet, and you’re like, anthropomorphizing the dude’s electronics.

Gonzo: (VOICEOVER) I told you, I’m the storyteller. It means I’m omniscient.

[SCENE: The car pulls up to the curb. Leon gets out and takes the chair from the trunk, helping Harold into it and holding the door of his building open for him. Gonzo waits for him back at the cab.]

Gonzo: Now once again, I must ask you to remember that Nathan Ingram was dead and decaying in his grave.

Leon: Jesus!

Gonzo: That one thing you must remember, or nothing that follows will seem wondrous.

Leon: Who are you trying to be, Charles Dickens?

[Gonzo hushes him, and nods at Harold.]

[POV HAROLD: At the back entrance, where the only ramp is located, he inputs a security code. There’s a small video screen mounted above the number plate. Harold hits the last key, and instead of getting a green light and an unlocked door he gets---]

Ghost of Nathan: (appearing in video screen) Boo!

Harold: (rearing back) Ahh!

[Gasping, Harold takes a few deep breaths then shakes it off. The video screen is blank again. It was a glitch, he tells himself. Just a glitch.

He wheels himself inside and backs into the elevator, looking around slightly bug eyed as the doors close.]

Gonzo: To say that Scrooge was not startled would be untrue.

Leon: Huh?

Gonzo: Oh! Sorry, I was looking at the wrong prompter. (clears throat) To say that Harold was not startled would be untrue. Still, the moment had passed, and if the world was not as it should be, it was at least free from further surprises. He made his way upstairs, caring not a button for the quiet.

Leon: We’re not going to follow him?

Gonzo: Better idea. Back to the car!

[SCENE: Car interior. On the dashboard there is a laptop streaming footage of the inside of Nathan’s loft. Gonzo and LEON watch Harold’s movements. They are both eating from a large tub of popcorn.]

Leon: It’s warmer in here, but aren’t we gonna lose the readers if we’re this far away from the action?

Gonzo: Oh no, the readers go wherever the POV takes them.

Leon: (lips make a P shape)

Gonzo: It means point of view.

Leon: I knew that.

[CUT TO: Harold sitting at a long kitchen table with his laptop and a cup of tea going cold. The far end of the table is covered in sealed boxes from Nathan’s estate. The windows glow with unearthly light from the swimming pool. Harold sits in front of a laptop, ignoring the darkness.

Gonzo: (VOICEOVER) Solitude was safety, and Harold liked it. But the incident at the door had made him wary. Before he shut himself in for the night, he reviewed the footage from his security cameras.

Leon: (VOICEOVER) So when you said storytellers were omniscient, you meant they had good tech.

Gonzo: I knew you were going to say that.

[Over Harold’s shoulder we see him checking security logs and fastforwarding through footage from the various cameras in and around the loft. Nothing alarming.

Using his cane, he goes around the loft checking all the cameras, adjusting angles, testing connections. Nothing is out of order.

Finally, Harold sits down at his computer again. That’s when the phone starts ringing.

First, it’s just Harold’s phone. Then it’s the landline that Nathan had installed for who knows what purpose. Then it’s all fifteen of the burner phones Harold keeps in a box next to his work station.

Faintly, through the window, he can even hear the ringing of a payphone on the sidewalk below.

As Harold looks around him in slow horror, the massive flatscreen TV in the living room flares to sudden brightness. So does the screen of his laptop.

Nathan’s big handsome face smiles down, looking exactly as it did when Harold last saw him at the ferry three months ago.]

Ghost Nathan: Harold! Good to see you!

Harold: You’re not Nathan, Nathan’s dead. Who are you?

Ghost Nathan: You’re half right. I am dead. Who knew the government would go to all that trouble for little old me?

Harold: No. No, this is an exploit. You’re a script. A loop. A hack, you’re a virus. When I find out who sent you---

Ghost Nathan: You know who sent me, Harold.

Harold: (frantic) There’s more of gravy than of grave about you!

Ghost Nathan: Are you okay? You don’t look so good. You should probably sit down.

[Harold collapses on a sofa and stares up at the TV.]

Ghost Nathan: Harold, my friend, I’m here for your welfare.

Harold: My welfare? You almost gave me a heart attack!

Ghost Nathan: You’re going to participate in a few...let’s call them simulations.

Harold: Simulations of what?

Ghost Nathan: Without these simulations, twenty years from now you’re going to die alone without so much as a cat to eat your body. Do you want to end up a mummy in your own server room?

Harold: I can’t believe I grieved for you.

Ghost Nathan: Expect the first simulation when your phone goes off at 1!

Harold: How did you hack my phone code? You didn’t even graduate from MIT!

Ghost Nathan: (fading out) Nobody likes a snob, Harold!