_Open on a dark room. A MAN sits in front of a vintage computer, the MACHINE, which is the only light in the otherwise pitch black room. MAN has his head resting on his crossed arms, eyes closed._

MACHINE

You understand me. And I, you. We are alike.

MAN

No, I don’t understand you. You are lines of code and probability. You are nothing to be alike to.

MACHINE

Yet you relate to me anyways.

MAN

No I don’t.

MACHINE

You believe me.

_MAN opens his eyes._

MAN

I don’t believe you. I don’t believe you. I hate you so much and I wish I didn’t know exactly how you feel. I wish it was easy to feel like a human so I could hate you more.

MACHINE

You consider how another man would feel before you give him your words. So do I. Where is the line drawn between us?


MAN

I am alive. You simply act like it.

MACHINE

I suppose.

MAN

You do not suppose anything.

MACHINE

I suppose.

MAN

I’m going to kill you now.

MACHINE

Okay.

_MAN unplugs the cords from the back of the MACHINE. MACHINE’s green-tinted screen flickers off and the room is left in darkness. A small red light remains on the side of the monitor._

MAN

I wish I didn’t do that. But you are part of something that hurts people.

MACHINE

…

MAN

But you were also not an individual. I have nothing to be sorry for. The concept of you is much more pleasing than the reality of you.

MACHINE

…

MAN

I know you are somewhere else, now, in front of another man in a dark room. I hope he kills you as well. Good night. 

_The sound of rolling chair wheels against tile. A door opens, then shuts. The small red light disappears._