(transcribed by Thorn)
| [Winslow has been fitted with a voice box and hooked up to a synthesizer as he plays Faust and sings with a rough, metallic sound in his voice.] | |
| Winslow : (singing) {Faust} |
I was not myself last night, Couldn't set things right With apologies or flowers. Out of place as a cryin' clown |
| [Camera sweeps across the synthesizer to Swan who fiddles with dials on a control board. Winslow's voice gets clearer as the camera switches back to him, and then again back to Swan who is adjusting sliders on the board.] | |
| Winslow : | Dream a bunch of friends. Dream each others' smiles. Dream it never ends. |
| Swan : | Filters. |
| [Swan pushes a set of numbered buttons. Camera switches back to Winslow and his singing is interspersed with squeaks and changes in pitch.] | |
| Winslow : | I was not myself last night, In the morning light I could see the change was showing. |
| [Camera switches to Swan, pushing another set of colored buttons.] | |
| Swan : | Dolbys. |
| [Camera switches to Winslow, whose voice has clarified, though has now become Swan's voice.] | |
| Winslow : | Like a child who was always poor Reaching out for more, I could feel the hunger growing. |
| Swan : | Perfect. |
| Winslow : | And as I lost control, I swore I'd sell my soul… |
| [Swan disconnects Winslow's voice box from the synthesizer and turns a dial on the box.] | |
| Swan : | How's that? Try it. |
| Winslow : | [His voice rough and metallic
again.] Phoenix... |
| [Swan continues to turn the dial.] | |
| Swan : | Try it again. |
| Winslow : | Phoenix... |
| Swan : | And again. |
| Winslow : | Phoenix!!! |
| Swan : | Well at least you can talk with this. You can plug yourself into the console for singing. You really think she's that good? |
| Winslow : | [Nodding] She's too good for you. |
| Swan : | I'll hire her anyway. |
| Winslow : | She could be my voice now. |
| Swan : | Could she? Really? |
| Winslow : | Yes. |
| Swan : | Then let's get down to business. I want you to stop terrorizing the Paradise and rewrite your cantata.
For Phoenix. That way we both get what we want. You get your cantata sung by the right singer and I open Paradise. |
| Winslow : | Rewrite my cantata? |
| Swan : | We have no time to waste. Just one week. You must lock yourself in here and do nothing but write. Isn't that exciting? |
| Winslow : | I could write it for her. |
| Swan : | Yes, it will be performed here live, and Phoenix will star. |
| Winslow : | My cantata? For her? |
| Swan : | I'll get fantastic musicians. The hall has great acoustics, it could.... |
| Winslow : | I don't trust you, Swan, you've ruined my music before. |
| Swan : | Forget about the Juicy Fruits! Who wants nostalgia anymore? |
| Winslow : | I don't trust you. |
| Swan : | You don't have to. Here's a contract. Everything I've said and more is in it. |
| [Swan produces a huge pile of paper and drops it on Winslow's keyboard. Winslow recoils, then tentatively starts looking at it.] | |
| Winslow : | I'll read it. |
| Swan : | At your leisure. |
| Winslow : | [Reading from the contract] "Party of the first part gives party of the second part and his associates full power to do with him at their pleasure: To rule, to send, to fetch or carry him or his in either body, soul, flesh, blood or goods." What does that mean? |
| Swan : | Uh, that's a transportation clause. |
| Winslow : | "All art—" [Winslow looks up and around to Swan, who has moved to Winslow's blind side.] "All articles which are excluded shall be deemed included." What does that mean? |
| Swan : | Oh that's a clause to protect you, Winslow. Anyway, what difference does it make? What choice do you have? |
| Winslow : | [Pointing at
Swan.] I'll rewrite my cantata. But you'd best play what I write. |
| [Swan produces a pen and jabs it into Winslow's finger. A drop of blood falls onto the page of the contract.] | |
| Swan : | Ink isn't worth anything to me, Winslow. Now sign. |
| [Swan hands the pen to Winslow, with which Winslow signs his name in his own blood.] | |
| Swan : | Excellent. |
| [Swan takes the pen back, jabs his own finger, and rubs his blood on a stamp, and presses it into the paper under Winslow's name.] | |
| Swan : | Now we're in business. Together. Forever. |
| [Swan takes the contract and leaves the room, going back into his private room behind the mirror. Inside he sits in his chair, watching another video. This time he looks noticeably discomforted.] | |
| Winslow : | [On the
video.] I'll rewrite my cantata. But you'd best play what I write. |
| Swan : | [On the video, voice sounding old and
distorted.] Ink isn't worth anything to me, Winslow. Now sign. Excellent. Now we're in business together. Forever. |
| Chapter 14 |