The Oxygen Tax

The Oxygen Tax

Characters:

REED: A scavenger in a patched-up spacesuit.

OFFICER ZANE: A sleek, corporate guard with a digital scanner.

Setting: A desolate, airless moon colony. A single oxygen terminal glows blue.

REED: It’s a glitch, Zane. I paid for the "Deep Breath" package this morning.

ZANE: (Scanning Reed’s neck) My readout says you’ve been hyperventilating, Reed. That’s unauthorized consumption of premium grade O2.

REED: I was running! A lunar-rat tried to take my boot!

ZANE: Panic is a luxury. The company doesn't subsidize adrenaline. You owe three credits or I lock the valve.

REED: (Gasping slightly) I’ve got two credits and a half-charged battery.

REED: It’s vintage! Look, just give me a liter. Enough to get back to the hab.

ZANE: Tell you what. I’ll give you thirty seconds of flow if you tell me where you hid that stash of canned peaches you found in the wreckage.

REED: (Beat) You’d trade life-saving air for syrup?

ZANE: It’s a very dry moon, Reed.

REED: ...Bottom of the South Crater. Under the solar panel.

(ZANE turns the valve. A hiss of air fills the space. REED inhales like a drowning man.)

ZANE: Pleasure doing business. Don’t run on the way home. It’s expensive.

[BLACKOUT]

The Duel of the Decades

Characters:

LORD BYRON: A 19th-century poet, dramatic and ruffled.

CHAD: A 21st-century "influencer" with a tripod.

Setting: A misty, purgatory-like moor.

BYRON: (Brandishing a quill) You dare challenge my legacy with your... "TikToks"? I have bled ink for the soul of man!

CHAD: Bro, your "soul of man" doesn't have a high engagement rate. I have four million followers. How many copies of Don Juan did you sell in the first twenty-four hours?

BYRON: I was the scandal of Europe! Women fainted at the mention of my name!

CHAD: Yeah, well, I have a brand deal with a protein powder company. I’m "physically aesthetic." You’re just... damp.

BYRON: I wrote of the mountains, the sea, the eternal yearning of the spirit!

CHAD: (Adjusting his ring light) That’s cool, but can you do the "Renegade" dance? If you don't have a hook in the first three seconds, people just swipe past your yearning, man.

BYRON: (Looks at the quill, defeated) Is there no room for the sublime?

CHAD: There’s room for a "Get Ready With Me" video. "GRWM: Writing a Poem about Sadness (Sponcon)."

BYRON: (Sighs) Give me the glowing rectangle. I shall learn of this "filter."

[BLACKOUT]

The Script Doctor

Characters:

WRITER: Disheveled, surrounded by crumpled paper.

THE MUSE: A woman in a business suit holding a shredder.

Setting: A dark office.

WRITER: It’s my masterpiece! A six-hour epic about the history of salt!

MUSE: (Feeds a page into the shredder) Too salty.

WRITER: Hey! That was the climax! The Great Sodium Riot of 1648!

MUSE: Nobody cares about salt, Arthur. They want "relatable content." Make the salt a metaphor for a broken marriage.

WRITER: But I’ve done the research! I have maps!

MUSE: (Picks up another page) "Scene 14: The Molecule Speaks." No. Molecules don't have character arcs.

WRITER: This one does! He’s lonely! He’s looking for a Chloride to his Sodium!

MUSE: (Pause) Is there a love triangle?

WRITER: With a Potassium atom, yes.

MUSE: ...Keep writing. But lose the maps.

[BLACKOUT]