Mary: Hawaii, could you give us a few minutes alone? Hawaii: OK [Hawaii leaves] [pause, Iris is busy with some computer thing] Mary: Iris. Iris: what? [pause] Mary: Through no fault of your own, you may be in serious trouble. [pause] Iris: i don't like this... Iris: ...i don't like this, i don't like this— Mary: Don't panic. Iris: sorry, i'm just on edge from nearly having a HEART ATTACK. Mary: If you still have any, you should take some Clonazepam. Iris: no, it's fine Mary: I'm not going to continue this conversation until you do. [pause] Iris: ugh, fine. [goes to the kitchen, gets a glass of water, gets out the Clonazepam] Iris: i don't even remember how much of this I'm supposed to take. Mary: How much do you have left? Iris: a fair amount... i don't think i've taken it more than three or four times, and they were all back when it was originally prescribed. [closeup of Iris holding the bottle so that Mary can't see Simon's name on the label] Mary: [looking out the AR window] Five milligrams is fine. [Iris takes the drugs, puts them away, shuts the cabinet] [pause] Iris: thanks. you were right to make me do that. [pause] Mary: [turns back around] You're not going to like what I'm about to tell you. Iris: should i be sitting down? Mary: No, stay in the kitchen in case you need to throw up. Iris: jesus christ! you're kidding, right? what could possibly be as shocking as you're building this up to be? Mary: People are told to sit down in case they're robbed of strength by despair or faint from shock. What you need to prepare yourself for is panic and disorientation. Mary: Plus, you're the throwing-up type. Iris: what's that supposed to mean! you think I'm bulimic, don't you?? Mary: Hawaii got out of the box an hour before it was delivered. Iris: oh. what— [long pause] Iris: you're right, that makes me feel... extremely sick to my stomach... [pause] Iris: i'm— Iris: [starting to panic] where is she? Mary: She's safe. [Iris regains her composure] Mary: You are not. Iris: is she going to kill me? Mary: Don't be autistic. Iris: sorry. wait, you are fucking with me, aren't you. Mary: She's in your house. [pause] Iris: i honestly can't tell if you're fucking with me. Mary: Hawaii mailed herself to you. You have a missing eight-year-old girl in your house. Iris: you're fu— Mary: Iris. Iris: HOW? no, this isn't— Mary: Whom you met online. Iris: i like how even when you're basically telling me how fucked i am, you use the correct forms of who and whom. Mary: As always, your sense of humor twists your sanity out of harm's way. Iris: [flirtatiously] thank you. Mary: That wasn't a complement, it was a fact. Iris: oh! flirt much? Mary: James, I'm happily married to a student. [Iris throws up in the sink] Mary: Now replay the day's events and see if you can put the world back together. [still poised over the sink, Iris looks up and to the left with an absent expression] [long pause] Iris: She got to me before the box did. She was real the entire day. Mary: Call the police and say you're reporting the location of a missing child. Tell them everything. The truth is on your side, but it will not stay there for very much longer. [Iris brings up a dialpad] [she hovers her finger over it, and her expression becomes distant] Iris: mary, are you sure about this?... Mary: You haven't done anything wrong. You're not making a confession, you're reporting a missing child. Call the police. [Iris pushes 9] [long pause] Mary: Iris... is there something you're not telling me? Iris: it's probably... not relevant— Iris: —well... Iris: fucking hell. Iris: this has GOT to be... hypothetically, if... Mary: Should I be standing near the sink for this? Iris: [warm bemusement] yes. you might want to. Iris: [mumbling, vaguely pretending to dial] oh one one eight, nine nine nine— Iris: just kidding. okay... Iris: ...uhhhh Iris: HYPOTHETICALLY Iris: ...would your recommendation to call the police change if i was... change to NOT calling the police, rather...! Iris: if, rather than being a girl named iris from pontypool, i was a girl named simona from london, who sometimes pretended to be welsh on the internet just to be fucking stupid? Mary: No. Call the police. Iris: what if I was actually a girl named SIMON from london? Mary: Call the police. Iris: what if I was actually a BOY named simon? [pause] Mary: Show me. [Iris becomes Simon] [pause] Mary: Let me think. Simon: how about now? is now a good time to be sitting down? or laying down, maybe? Mary: [circling him] How are you shifting the formant of your voice without leaving artifacts in the background noise? Even your throwup hitting the sink sounded natural. Simon: i erase the background noise completely in ableton live and reconstruct it in REAL after the formant shift Simon: using prerecorded loops Mary: You manually isolate and loop every ambient sound source in your life to better pretend you're a Welsh girl named Iris Simon: that will be the QC's opening statement, after which the judge will look down and say "WELL, 'mr' SIMON, or should i say mrPAEDOPHILE, perhaps you'll enjoy THIS little noise" as he BANGS HIS GAVEL! Simon: cut to prison bars slamming— you get it. Mary: Eat something if you can and go to bed. I'll to talk to Hawaii and wake you up when I figure out the best course of action. Simon: i'll write my suicide note before i turn in, that way if my best course of action is suicide you can just have hawaii smother me with a pillow. Mary: Goodnight, Simon. Simon: goodnight, mary. Simon: if that's your REAL NAME! Simon: [pulling his hair] fucking hell, what am i TALKING about— Mary: Go. To bed. Simon: [apologetically] Sorryyy...! Simon: night [rzzzzz] Simon: you're about to tell me you're secretly a boy, aren't you. Mary: No. Mary: ...But... Mary: I always knew YOU were. Simon: when did you figure out? Mary: I found your unlisted ScreeieercS Q&A video before I first contacted you. Simon: but then... Simon: ...why contact Iris? why not ScreeieercS or TheElectricCheese or whatever? Mary: She was your newest persona. Wet clay, so to speak. Simon: hmm Simon: that's probably why they give you a new name when you join a cult Mary: Yes. Simon: let's start a cult which posits that chipmunks named chip and dale live in all our heads. Mary: And that we have a secret, devastatingly expensive 45-step process for removing them? Simon: wait, if you knew I was a boy all along, that means when you advised me to call the police during the airmail disaster— Mary: I knew you'd balk and confess your identity, and that I could then convince you send Hawaii to Hong Kong. If I had advised you to put her on a plane with a fake passport from the start you'd have second-guessed me and called the police. Simon: so what you're saying is, pretending to be a girl saved me from going to prison Mary: No. Simon: MY POINTLESS FUCKERY IS VINDICATED AT LAST! Mary: Reverse psychology saved you from going to prison. Simon: i'm not sure if that's a backhanded complement disguised as an insult, or a backhanded insult disguised as a BIGGER insult. Mary: It's just an insult. It means you're predictable and pigheaded. Simon: that's TWO insults! Mary: Pigheaded means "stupidly obstinate". Does that make it three insults? Simon: don't try to confuse me with maths! i feel VIOLATED by you pretending to fall for my elaborate creepy ruse, and now i'm going to BED, to cry while hugging a PILLOW!!