This piece originally written for:
Open Screenplay Screenwriting Competition, March 2020
INT. AUNTIE EDITH’S DINER, DAY
It is a small town, cozy little diner, brightly decorated with tacky knick knacks and framed photos of locals. A handful of two- and four-top tables make up a dining area, and stools line up to a counter. The harsh light of a summer day streams in through window blinds, and ceiling fans whirl.
A few patrons, dressed in dusty farm clothes, dot a few tables and stools. Behind the counter is EDITH, a sweet looking, generously made up woman of about 65. She smiles and fills the water glass of MARV, mid-40s, work clothes, cap.
The front door is open, with strips of wet cloth hanging down, being blown by a gentle wind, as a cooling mechanism. Through the strips walks PAUL, mid 30s, immaculately dressed, wearing wire frame glasses, a bright shirt, tie, vest and bowler hat. He carries a large portfolio and walks up to the counter, practically panting. He removes his hat and wipes a generous amount of sweat off his brow. Marv turns to him.
MARV
Hot enough for you?
PAUL
Very funny, Marv.
Marv’s expression is serious.
MARV
Your study. Is it hot enough for your study? Weren’t you working on a study of the shift in the heat index between now and back in the ‘20s when we used to grow all that corn around here? Is it hot enough to prove your thesis? Hell, it’s been close to 110 for three days.
Paul, surprised, stutters for a response.
PAUL
Uh, yeah. It has been hot enough.
MARV
It’s brutal, but I can’t imagine what it’d be like with all that humidity you said we used to get with the corn and that evapo-stuff.
PAUL
Evapotranspiration.
MARV
Yeah, that’s it. Used to be so damp here. Now it’s dry as a bone.
Edith comes up to the counter.
EDITH
Hello Paul! Hot enough for you?
Edith laughs.
PAUL
Can I get some lemonade? Cold as you can get it.
She goes to a small, old fashioned ice box and opens it. Steam pours out as she pulls out a pitcher of lemonade, then fills Paul’s bottle.
EDITH
I remember when I was a little girl, back when everybody had air conditioners, I used to hate the summers. Anyplace you went into was
so cold! You had to wear sweaters.
She hands the bottle to Paul. He reaches for cash.
EDITH (CONT’D)
Come on now! For the town weatherman, it’s on the house!
He takes the bottle and has a long swig.
EDITH (CONT’D)
Too bad we didn’t get that rain yesterday. But your satellite says rain is on the way, right?
He has a far away look in his eye.
TITLE: TWENTY MINUTES AGO.
INT. STORM LAKE NATIONAL WEATHER SERVICE STATION, DAY
A small, shabby office. Several large, marked up weather maps are tacked up on the walls. A sign reads, “National Weather Service Station KWN47, Storm Lake, IA.” An old looking monitor with multiple cables connect to a retrofitted desktop computer. The pixelated display shows an analog looking U.S. weather map. Notably absent is any cloud systems or weather data. Near the bottom, a hung-up task bar says, “Negotiating Host…” A date blinks: “July 12, 2052.”
Paul fiddles with some wires connected to a plug in the wall. Frantic, he stands up and whacks the side of the old monitor. Back on the screen, the “Negotiating Host” message changes to “Satellite Connection Lost.”
PAUL
NOOOO!!!
TITLE: RIGHT NOW.
INT. AUNTIE EDITH’S DINER, DAY
PAUL
Oh yeah. Satellite is looking good.
Edith smiles and pats him on the shoulder.
EDITH
Wonderful. Now you better get along over to the co-op! Almost time for your daily forecast. You know how much the farmers need that.
Paul caps off his lemonade, gives a weak smile and heads out.
EXT. STORM LAKE CO-OP, DAY
About 20 farmers gather at the local co-op, a three-story wooden building with a grain elevator to the side. It is flanked by run-down, mid-rise, late 20th century buildings, most with solar panels. There are no cars on the street. Several bicycles are parked and a few horses mill around. JANE, mid 40s in overalls and wearing a wide brimmed straw hat, stands with DOUG, late 50s, weatherworn face and gray stubble, wearing a very old Kansas City Chiefs cap. Paul walks across the street toward the gathered crowd. He waves nervously and steps up to a podium on a raised platform. He opens the portfolio, pulls out a hand drawn weather map and places it on an easel.
JANE
What happened to that rain we were supposed to get yesterday?
Paul turns from the easel and is about to answer when he is pelted in the shoulder by a rotten head of cabbage.
PAUL
Ow! What the heck was that!?
VOICE FROM THE CROWD (V.O.)
Rotten cabbage!
PAUL
Rotten…?! Oh come on!
More rotten veggies are thrown at him, accompanied with angry shouts. Paul does his best to dodge and duck the incoming.
PAUL (CONT’D)
Hey! That could all be composted!
JANE
When is the rain coming?
Paul shuffles through his notes, stalling.
PAUL
I’m afraid I don’t know right now.
JANE
Then what good are you?
The crowd roars in response. Paul walks the platform, waving his arms trying to calm the situation.
PAUL
Please, please! I had some trouble with the satellite connection today, but I’ve been tracking some systems and am hopeful we’ll see rain in the extended outlook.
JANE
Why do we listen to this guy?
DOUG
He’s just trying to help.
A woman’s voice, English accent, cuts in.
FOSTER (O.S.)
Perhaps he doesn’t want to help.
Confusion and turned heads in the crowd upon hearing an unfamiliar voice in a place where everyone knows everyone.
FOSTER steps into view. She is about 40, sharply dressed in khakis, white shirt and sleeveless cloak, hair pulled back. She carries a large backpack and holds a tall metal staff.
FOSTER (CONT’D)
Or maybe I speak out of turn. Maybe your government weatherman has only the best intentions for this town. We all know how the government
looks out for frontier folk.
Angry muttering. “Government” is not a popular word.
PAUL
I’m trying to give them information so they can plan and keep their farms alive.
She points at Paul.
FOSTER
The altruistic weatherman! He hides behind science and looks down on you. He does not care.
Murmurs from the crowd get louder. Paul pounds the lectern.
PAUL
That’s enough! Look here, Ms….
FOSTER
Foster. Professor Foster.
PAUL
…Ms. Foster. I have served the people of this town for two years. I’ve only ever told the truth.
FOSTER
The truth? The truth is the government wants your farms to fail, so that you all move to the cities and live under their thumb. Is that what you want?
Crowd loudly mutters and angry disapproval. Lots of “no’s.”
PAUL
That is preposterous!
FOSTER
Then why won’t you help?
The crowd gets loud again. Paul laughs, frustrated.
PAUL
Help?! Help with what? No man can control the weather.
FOSTER
No man, that is true.
INT. STORM LAKE NATIONAL WEATHER SERVICE STATION, DAY
The old monitor in the office is still running. The message “Negotiating Host” is still blinking. Until…the bar goes green and the message changes to “Satellite Link Active.” Pulling back, the map of area refreshes and reveals a dark green and yellow cloud bank bearing down on Storm Lake.
EXT. STORM LAKE CO-OP, DAY
Foster now stands proudly on the platform.
FOSTER
This country used to be called the breadbasket of the world! Your forebears fed billions. But when the sky burned, the rains went away. I can bring them back!
She holds up her metal staff and points it at Paul.
FOSTER (CONT’D)
Like your weatherman, I studied their science. What’s more, I know the ways of the ancients. Using the old and the new, we will call upon the spirits of this land and bring the rain to Storm Lake!
Cheers and applause. Paul walks into the crowd, pleading.
PAUL
You can’t fall for this!
JANE
(To Foster)
How much?
FOSTER
Fifty from each farm.
Paul scoffs. No way. He looks around the crowd and sees farmers looking in their pockets and bags, producing money.
PAUL
You can’t be serious!
Foster walks around, collecting money. Paul goes over to Doug. Surely a voice of reason.
PAUL (CONT’D)
Doug! You can’t buy into this.
Doug gives Paul a pained look, then produces money.
DOUG
I’m sorry. We have to try.
EXT. STORM LAKE CO-OP, LATER
It is a few hours later, dusk, and cloudy. Foster scatters a number of carved bone talismans down on the ground. Next to her is a small, toaster sized electronic device with an antenna and blinking lights. She reaches into a small sack and throws dust into the air. The group of farmers stands nearby, but is giving her space. At the back, Paul stands near Doug, arms folded.
PAUL
Embarrassing. I can’t believe you spent good money on this hokum.
Jane lifts her staff high, spins it around a couple of times, then dramatically slams it into the ground. Paul laughs.
PAUL (CONT’D)
Points for drama there.
A drop of rain strikes his cheek. He freezes. Doug reaches out his hand. He felt a drop, too. Drops of rain are striking the dusty ground. The farmers in the crowd are all feeling it. The pace increases from a drizzle to light sprinkle. They are jubilant, and start to cheer. Some embrace Foster, who is all grins, leaning on her staff.
On the ground, the sprinkle increases to a steady rain.
Paul’s face, glasses streaked with rain, is blank with shock.
PAUL (CONT’D)
What the fff…
CUT TO:
INT. AUNTIE EDITH’S DINER, NIGHT
The farmers celebrate, raising toasts, laughing and chatting around a few gathered tables in the corner of the diner. A kind of high-tempo bluegrass music plays loudly. Foster is in the center, laughing along with them. She finishes a glass of beer and Jane hands her another.
FOSTER
Thank you, I don’t mind if I do.
By himself at the end of the counter, Paul sits staring into his nearly empty beer. Edith comes over to him.
EDITH
Freshen that up for you, dear?
PAUL
Don’t mind if I do.
She takes his glass and fills it from a cask draught pull.
EDITH
This is so exciting! I’ve heard some of farmers talk about moving to the city, but I think this rain might have changed some minds.
Back in the group, Jane calls to Edith.
JANE
Hey Edith! Another round over here!
Edith dutifully heads in that direction. Paul takes a long drink. Foster sits next to him, smiling. Paul sighs.
FOSTER
I know I gave you a hard time out there, but no hard feelings, mate.
PAUL
How? How did you do this?
Foster looks around, making sure no one is in earshot. She leans in closer and speaks, her British accent now gone.
FOSTER
Between you and me, friend, I’ve pulled this stunt at least 20 times and this is the first time it ended with rain. It usually ends with me slipping away for supplies, stealing somebody’s bike and getting the hell out of town. Sometimes you just get lucky.
PAUL
Why are you telling me this? I could go right over there and tell everyone you conned them.
FOSTER
Who do you think they’d believe? You might know high pressure systems, but I know about people. Never underestimate the power of hearing what you want to hear.
PAUL
You exploit people and take advantage of their suffering.
FOSTER
Hey, I know what I am. But take a look at that.
The farmers continue to laugh and have a great time.
FOSTER (CONT’D)
Have you ever seen them that happy?
He hasn’t.
PAUL
It’s raining. They’d be happy whether you showed up or not.
FOSTER
That’s where you’re wrong. This isn’t about rain. They feel like they DID something for it. Sure it’s BS, but they don’t know that.
Paul watches them. She has a point.
FOSTER (CONT’D)
Let me give you some advice, weatherman. You think facts and figures are what they need. These folks have been getting lectured about science their whole lives. Science just tells them a lot of mumbo jumbo about why it keeps getting hotter and drier. All they know is that their lives keep getting harder. Science was supposed to save them. It didn’t. Give them something to believe in.
Paul takes it in and nods. Foster pats him on the shoulder, smiles, and eyes the exit. She puts on her backpack, gives a little salute and slips out the door. Paul turns back to his beer. He notices, leaning against the bar, is Foster’s staff.
INT. STORM LAKE NATIONAL WEATHER SERVICE STATION, DAY
It is weeks later. Once again we see the computer monitor, with active satellite connection, and dark rain clouds moving into the area. The date stamp flashes, “August 4, 2052.”
EXT. STORM LAKE CO-OP, DAY
Paul gets up on the platform, a little more spring in his step. He Foster’s staff. He addresses the farmers.
PAUL
Good afternoon! Thanks for coming. I’ve been looking at the satellite data and conditions are good. Did everyone bring some soil?
The farmers nod, and each produce a small bag of dirt.
PAUL (CONT’D)
Great. Doug, pass the basket around and let’s mix all that up.
A small basket is passed, and filled up with the soil. It is handed to Paul, now on ground level with the farmers. He looks at his watch, then the sky. Clouds are moving in.
PAUL (CONT’D)
OK, everyone, give the staff a pat.
He holds it out, and each farmer gives it a touch. Paul backs into an open space with the staff and nods. The farmers reach into the basket and start throwing the dry soil into the air. Paul smiles and holds up the staff.
PAUL (CONT’D)
Here we go.
He slams it into the ground. A drop of rain strikes the ground.
FADE OUT
