((in a( ))(n( ))ot)her life ((oh) (b(r)ot( ))her)
length: 1 video, 624 words, 2 images
close-up of a white woman's eye.
she picks a compact disc to play music from and loads it into a CD player. she tries to prepare herself for her day, on the verge of tears but buoyed by the lyrics of Petula Clark's "Downtown."
she arranges the living room for a group but is interrupted by the beeping of a fire alarm: burnt muffins, she burns herself pulling them out of the oven, charred muffins roll across the floor.
doorbell rings. an older white woman at the door seems sympathetic as the younger white woman says, "i burnt my hand. and my muffins." an unseen man works on fixing her plumbing, which the two woman complain jokingly about.
the book club begins.
an annoying white man with glasses: "it's not even literature, it's popcorn."
older white woman: "and why isn't it literature, adam? i'm dying to know."
adam: "there's no metaphor. it's by-the-numbers religious hokum-pokum..."
older white woman, talking over adam, incensed: "no metaphors??"
adam: "...it's science fiction. now i know why ben isn't here."
this pulls the younger white woman out of her bored daydreaming.
younger white woman: "excuse me?"
adam: "i know the host picks the book, but seriously, julie, he wouldn't read this in the damn bathroom."
the older white woman looks satisfied as julie stands her ground indignantly: "well, adam, i am the host and i do pick the books and this... is my favorite book so i am absolutely thrilled that you can't stand it. silly me! for sinking so low as to select something that ben wouldn't like; here i am, thinking that free will actually exists on—"
a rumbling like an earthquake shakes the home. cutlery and decorative plates fall to the ground and shatter. the book club scatters, hiding under doorways for a moment until the shaking stops. everyone goes outside. a feeble-looking white man comes out of a nearby home, looking deadly serious. everyone watches as a burning plane flies overhead before splitting into two. julie looks petrified. the feeble white man begins barking orders. he sends two white men to investigate the crash, demanding that one of them infiltrate any group of survivors: "listen. learn," and with extra emphasis: "don't get involved. i want lists in three days. go."
the feeble white man walks over to julie, who is holding a copy of Stephen King's Carrie. he tells her: "so i guess i'm out of the book club." a mixture of hurt, confusion, and annoyance on her face as she turns to walk away. dramatic string music as the camera cuts to aerial shots that are farther and farther away, revealing where all this is happening: a tiny, remote village surrounded by giant mountains and, clearly, completely and extremely isolated.