SUNRISE.
A lone beautiful wooden sailing yacht, Atlanta, moored in a picturesque cove outside Charlevoix, Quebec. On the foredeck two figures appear to be doing some sort of strange dance. It lacks fluidity, almost as if mimicking some sort of machine, yet seems to be telling a story. The two figures, an older man and a woman in her thirties, make hissing and spitting noises, even etherial gasps, as they go through these practiced motions. Then they both go limp and fall into the river with a splash.
INT. BOAT CABIN – DAY.
SUPER: Three Days Earlier
JULES OCTAVIAN, a very dynamic looking 82, is making pour-over coffee at the tile galley counter of a classic wooden sailing yacht in an elegant linen shirt and 1960’s style swim trunks, a beach towel around his neck. RACHAEL BOARDMAN, 35, is doing The New Yorker crossword at the dining table with her hair wrapped in another beach towel. The cabin is full of carefully maintained oiled teak, varnished mahogany, and lovingly polished brass. Books are stuffed in every spare corner.
RACHAEL
A nine-letter word for recollection. Starts with A, fifth letter N.
JULES
Anamnesis.
RACHAEL
Right…Good one.
Jules sets two perfectly crafted Japanese stoneware mugs of coffee on the mahogany table and slides into the settee next to Rachael. He then pulls a well-thumbed paperback from the shelf beside him about Jungian archetypes and begins reading. There’s a perfectly comfortable long silence, the only sound being wildlife and the gentle creaks and groans of a wooden boat at anchor.
RACHAEL
That crazy guy messaged me again. On the subreddit.
JULES
The one who thinks it’s real?
RACHAEL
Yeah, he’s absolutely certifiable.
JULES
You should find out what he thinks. The insanity is often built upon an interesting shred of truth, otherwise they’d be able to give it up.
RACHAEL
Maybe… Raise anchor after coffee?
JULES
Sounds about right. Make the turn south to Burlington, the old fashioned way this time?
RACHAEL
We could…or we could check out the asteroid crater.
JULES
In Charlevoix? It’ll add a week to the trip.
RACHAEL
This supposed to be the adventure of a lifetime. It’s about the detours. Afraid Old Night might get you when you fall into the invisible river?
Jules makes a point of looking out a port-light and climbs to his feet, coffee in hand.
JULES
Still a visible river. And lacking the salinity required to sustain giant psychic squids. Anyway – didn’t your forum say it’s The Missouri River that’s the important one?
RACHAEL
It says a lot of things. Besides, where’s the rule that says fun things can’t happen in Canada?
JULES
I believe it’s somewhere in the British North America Act. What about the jazz? And the coffee you promise to be so good?
RACHAEL
It’ll still be there a week later. When’s the next time you get to do The OA’s movements on the deck of a boat over an ancient asteroid? It’s the ultimate thin place.
JULES
The lengths you’ll go to for some morning exercise…
RACHAEL
You never know!
JULES
I want to believe!
Jules sets his coffee on the other side of the companionway and climbs the ladder with movements so practiced age is no match. The ancient diesel rumbles to life.
EXT. ST. LAWRENCE RIVER – DAY.
Atlanta, under full canvas, runs close to the wind with a bone in her teeth as she surges downriver on a beautiful early fall day. Picturesque French-Canadian villages dot the mountainous north shore. Under a shady Bimini Jules works a beautiful wooden tiller worn smooth by a half century of the same hands in the same place, watching the wind and sails ahead. Rachael relaxes beside him with a book, Labyrinths by Jorge Luis Borges.
INT. BOAT CABIN – NIGHT.
Atlanta’s port lights are lit by dancing television and oil lamp light. Inside Jules and Rachael are watching the finale of The OA. It ends and Rachael gets up to make snacks.
JULES
How old do you think OA is?
RACHAEL
I don’t know, twenty five?
JULES
Not Prairie. I mean The OA, she’s the original. Is she somehow eternal or is the original only in her mid-twenties?
RACHAEL
I guess she must be older than Prairie.
JULES
You know I spent some time obsessed with the fountain of youth? I never thought it was true, of course, but I thought the search made for a great story.
RACHAEL
Would you really want to live forever?
JULES
If the world keeps revealing new and fascinating things why wouldn’t I?
RACHAEL
Wars, pestilence, perpetual human disappointment? Wouldn’t the perpetual wisdom-building make everyone else insufferable?
JULES
Only if you can’t accept that you’ve got the privilege of time that others don’t. And don’t you think the world would benefit from the wisdom of someone ageless? Isn’t that the magic of God, that he’s eternal?
RACHAEL
So you want to be God, huh?
JULES
No! No… That’s far too much pressure. I just want to know the rest of the story!
RACHAEL
Me too. Shame it was cancelled.
JULES
Or was it?
RACHAEL
I thought that theory was discounted?
JULES
It’s a story about storytelling! About finding your tribe and telling the story over and over until it makes sense. If you cancel that kind of story it just sparks a garden of forking paths among the fans. The story never ends and people continue finding each other.
RACHAEL
You’re saying Netflix tried to save a few bucks and ended up giving the story over to the fans?
JULES
I struggle to see how any single conclusion, no matter how talented the writers, could be as good as that one. It’s a show about story bringing people together that brought people together. It achieved it’s purpose and then some.
INT. BOAT CABIN — DAY.
Jules looks through a port hole that is suspiciously shaped like a camera lens as sunlight streams into the cabin while he grinds the morning’s coffee.
JULES
Well, you’ve got your crater. Should I have brought mother’s talking board?
RACHAEL
Don’t be silly. We’re talking about television, not all that fake stuff. Meet you on deck when you’re finished?
JULES
Sure thing.
Rachael climbs through the companionway into the sunlight and footsteps pass overhead.
EXT. BOAT DECK — DAY
Jules sets the two perfect stoneware mugs outside of the companionway and climbs through himself before gingerly making his way forward without spilling a drop. Rachael is stretching and Jules does the same. After a moment they both begin making movements together, The OA movements, hissing and spitting as they mechanically play out some kind of interpretive dance. Then they both collapse overboard into the river. Rachael leisurely swims around to the stern of the boat and climbs the ladder. She wraps herself in a towel neatly folded on the back deck and dries herself as she moves forward. After a moment she realizes Jules is nowhere to be seen and starts looking, more and more frantically. She begins calling to him. Then, in a moment of utter panic she looks around the horizon and a hand grasps her foot from over the side. The hand belongs to a man in his thirties who looks uncannily like Jules.
YOUNG JULES
Hello, Rachael.
RACHAEL
What? You… Jules? Did you find it?
YOUNG JULES doesn’t answer, just swims off into the sunrise conspicuously wearing the same trunks as Jules to ‘Time Stands Still’ by Rush.
THE END
