FADE IN:
EXT. ABANDONED CITY - DAY
An abandoned city lies in ruins as we see a few people calmly wandering around, with an eerie silence in the air.
A FATHER and HIS SON, both distinguished by their shimmering, pale complexions and oversized, expressive eyes, are wandering through the city. As the man holds his son's hand, he idly plays with their extra thumbs. They pass an enormous outdoor television that is displaying a countdown.
COUNTDOWN SCREEN
27 days till impact. Proceed to your assigned bunkers immediately.
They stop. The boy points to the sky, which looks yellowish-brown. The sun looks blue and small, implying that it is not Earth. Besides it, a bright star – a rapidly approaching asteroid is visible.
BOY
Dad, look. There it is.
FATHER
(calm)
Yeah, buddy. Let’s enjoy the open air while we can. Who knows when we’ll see the sky again?
CUT TO:
EXT. CITY SQUARE - DAY
In the middle of the city square, another outdoor television is broadcasting an interview with a split-screen countdown clock. A small group of people are gathered around. Everyone has the same appearance as the boy and the father.
MAN ON TV
Everything is on schedule. We’ve asked citizens to vacate properties as soon as possible, so we can reclaim materials to build additional bunkers.
INTERVIEWER
Do we have enough bunkers?
MAN ON TV
(smiles)
Yes. With plenty of spare ones for guests.
A MAN IN THE CROWD bristles, jabbing a finger at the screen before turning to the onlookers.
MAN IN CROWD
You buying this crap? Just more propaganda. They want control, that’s all. I’m not falling for it.
CUT TO:
CLOSE-UP OF TELEVISION SCREEN - DAY
A timer ticks: 27 days, 5 hours, 13 minutes. Nearby, CHILDREN chase each other, laughing, oblivious.
CUT TO:
CLOSE ON MIDDLE-AGED WOMAN - DAY
She stares at the image of the approaching asteroid on the screen. Fear lines her face.
WOMAN:
(Whispering to herself)
I hope the bunkers are strong enough.
CUT TO:
CLOSE ON MAN 2 -DAY
A composed MAN addresses a tight circle of listeners.
MAN 2:
They’re saying there’s a twelve per cent chance the shelters won’t withstand the hit. And even if they do… nobody knows how long we’ll be living underground.
CUT TO:
CLOSE ON TELEVISION SCREEN - DAY
The countdown reads: 27 days, 2 hours, 37 minutes. An ELDERLY WOMAN drops her handbag. A YOUNG GIRL rushes over, helps. They share a small, warm smile.
CUT TO:
EXT- DESERT BADLANDS- DAY
A large all-terrain vehicle stops beside a rugged rock formation. A CAMERAMAN hops out, followed by the INTERVIEWER from the earlier broadcast.
They approach what looks like a natural cliff face. The Interviewer produces an oval fob. The Cameraman gives the signal.
INTERVIEWER
(to the camera,)
We’re standing at the entrance to our new underground world. From the surface, it looks untouched. Let’s go inside.
He taps a sequence on the fob. The rock glides aside with a soft, mechanical hum, revealing a broad metallic door. It, too, slides open. They step in. Lights bloom. The doors seal behind them
CUT TO:
OUTSIDE THE ROCKY ENTRANCE
The rocky façade slides shut seamlessly.
CUT TO:
INT. ACCESS TUNNEL
We are in front of the second door, which is more robust-looking than the previous one. The door slides, revealing another door, an airlock-style hatch. Beyond it, there is a large corridor with another door at the end.
The interviewer closes the hatch and walks towards the fourth door, followed by the cameraman. As he approaches the door, a message appears over the door.
MESSAGE
Please decontaminate before entry.
He taps a nearby panel. A fine mist rains down, then dissipates. The next-door slides aside, revealing a freight lift.
CUT TO:
INSIDE THE LIFT
The lift is roomy and can be easily mistaken for a small room. Safety notices, maps, and reminders line the walls. The Interviewer and Cameraman ride down in silence, facing the door as the lift goes down.
CUT TO:
INT. UNDERGROUND ARCADE - LATER
A well-lit street, with A FEW PEOPLE walking about. The ceiling is high with yellowish-brown light, imitating the daytime sky. AN ELDERLY COUPLE are on a nearby bench, chatting.
A lift door opens, sandwiched between a shop and something that looks like a community hall. The interviewer and the cameraman get out, looking amazed.
EXT. A BUNKER DWELLING
The interviewer and the cameraman stop outside a door. The interviewer taps a panel, and the door opens. Everyone gets in.
INT: A BUNKER DWELLING MOMENTS LATER
The interviewer is talking to the camera.
INTERVIEWER
These houses are designed to be comfortable, energy-efficient and sustainable. Everything you need is here, cleverly compacted. Have a look.
He opens a side panel and taps controls. The bare room reconfigures into a bathroom—sink, tub, shower, unfolding smoothly. Another tap, and it becomes a laundry— a fold-down washer drops into place and extends.
CUT TO:
INT./EXT. UNDERGROUND CITY – MONTAGE
Aerial glide over subterranean rivers and turbines, compact nuclear plants and waste reclamation. Concentric neighbourhoods: fifty dwellings around terraced grow-beds. Air recyclers pulse at intervals.
COMMENTATOR (V.O)
Our aquifers supply water and drive turbines. Three nuclear stations stand in reserve. Communities of fifty share a central multilevel farm. Autonomous scrubbers sample and refresh air every fifteen minutes.
The voice begins to fade as we drift through the streets and faces.
CUT TO:
INT: UNDERGROUND COFFEE SHOP -LATER
The interviewer sips a drink, addressing the camera.
INTERVIEWER
Based on our existing technology—no hypothetical breakthroughs—we can sustain a comfortable baseline for at least twenty years, with contingency rationing as needed. And we hope we’ll find a—
A faint flicker. The audio glitches.
FADE OUT.