Transcript
A girl talks to camera. The girl eyeballs the camera as the title expands to replace her: Steady, As She Goes. In a bedroom, a boy sits hunched at his computer. Headphones clamped over his ears, the boy's fingers fly across a keyboard to type his answer to the question 'What management style brings out the best in you?’ His comprehensively generic answer appears, word by word, on the computer's screen. He scrolls down to the next question. 'Where do you see yourself in five years?' The boy stares at the blank answer box. He types 'i don't know' then a splodge of random characters. He deletes his answer. The light from the screen - the room's only illumination, reflects blue off the boy's face. His gaze slides away from the screen. He glances back, twitches a frown, then opens up a messenger app on his computer. A newly arrived message from 'Oven' asks 'what even is this lmao' along with a link. The boy clicks the link. A page pops up headed 'Sempercutis Phenomenon'. The subsequent definition includes the phrases 'disturbing set of physical and psychological experiences', 'Increased dissociation', 'feelings of detachment', 'A persistent rash occurring', 'Skin desquamation (peeling)', 'Reflections begin to behave independently', 'object moving around inside the body', 'Expulsion of a bright, unnatural fluid through the mouth'. The boy scratches the lurid rash on his right forearm, then covers it with his sleeve. Now in a bathroom, the boy retrieves a tube of cream from a cabinet. He squeezes some of the cream onto his finger, then rubs it over his irritated right forearm. He recaps the tube then tosses it onto the counter. His arms hang limp by his sides as he stares at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. Turning, he trudges out of the room. He pushes open the door to his bedroom then stands silhouetted in the doorway. The purple light in the corridor seeps past him into his computer-lit bedroom. The boy enters his bedroom, closing the door behind him. Reflected in his mirrored wardrobe, the boy sits back at his desk. He dons his headphones and wakes the computer. As the boy stares at the screen, his reflection turns to stare at *him*. The boy's head whips round to face the mirrored wardrobe. He stares at it for a long moment, then refocuses on his screen, his reflection synching back to mirror him. The boy's forehead furrows as he turns back towards the mirrored wardrobe. He scoots his chair back from his desk, removes his headphones, then wanders over to the mirrored wardrobe. He slides the door immediately to the right of his desk so that the mirrored surface is concealed. The wardrobe's interior yawns black beyond. The boy sinks back into the gaming chair at his computer. He frowns at the wardrobe then retrieves his headphones from the floor and positions their padded cups over his ears. In a search bar, he types 'rash won't go away'. Results pop up, headed by one from www.uclahealth.org. The boy performs a new search on the words sempercutis phenomenon' A post on the Clarion platform headed 'there's something underneath my skin' pops up. The boy jumps up. He makes a beeline for his wardrobe. He gazes into the open cavity then reaches out a hand to slide the mirrored door shut once more. Reflected in the mirror is himself, sitting on his bed. The boy's eyes glisten. His jaw hangs slack as he stares at his displaced reflection in the mirror. The boy's reflection resynchronises to face him. The boy races into the bathroom. He braces himself against the basin, glances at his reflection, then pulls back his left sleeve. He claws at the angry rash beneath. A puff of purple smoke spews upwards. The boy locks eyes with his reflection in the bathroom mirror. His eyes sag closed. He collapses sideways. Darkness. Darkness gives way to an inverted negative black and white. The boy sits bolt upright on a beach. A figure sits slumped nearby, their head bowed, their face hidden behind a sheet of long hair. The boy stands. The figure turns towards the boy - its face a writhing scribble of red. The boy jerks awake in his bathroom. He snatches a series of shallow breaths, then gets to his feet. On the boy's computer screen gleams a truncated photo of a girl titled 'me'. A sheet of long dark hair shines on her shoulders. Her lips pout. The photo's cut off at her nose. The boy clicks on the link beside the picture. A video plays out: a girl with long dark hair scratches at her arms then vomits an electric blue liquid into a toilet bowl. A glimpse of a violet planet. Shaky home video zooms into an emergency sign to frame the word 'Exit'. Now, the girl with a sheet of dark hair wanders through a sunlit park in trainers and oversize jeans. Unilluminated floodlights stretch towards a blue sky. A sign affixed to a fence encourages the community to 'have their say' on the master plan for Myrtle and Macleay Parks. The sun sets. The girl holds up her hand to the twilit sky. Fluorescent bangles glow on her wrist. A numbered doorway in a block of flats. The girl links her bangles together then rides on a bus through a suburb that's illuminated by streetlamps. Now on a sporting field, she reaches her bangle-encircled left hand towards the night sky. A fluorescent blue drool spills from the boy's mouth as he stares at his computer screen. A moment of darkness. Tears streak the boy's cheeks. The curving high back of his gaming chair hides the boy's form from behind. He wipes his nose on the back of his hand. His shoulders heave with quick, shallow breaths. He tears off his headphones, then marches out of his bedroom and into the bathroom. Gripping onto the basin with both hands, he bows his head. He balls his right hand into a fist then slams it on the counter. He hunches forward. Something steeples the back of his white t-shirt as it creeps up his spine. The boy clutches his temples. A fluorescent blue liquid drips down the length of the boy's fingers and onto the floor. Now he staggers down a deserted suburban street. The boy collapses onto the rain-slicked road. He vomits up a fluorescent blue substance. The boy staggers to his feet. Arms limp at his sides, he stares up at the moon. Darkness.
Credits appear in the same fluorescent pink font as the title. A film by Andrew Ngugen. Stephanie Li . Production assistants: Stephenie Li. Violet Liew. Original music – Remonjirux.
Special thanks and legal information is followed by the words 'for vce media units 3&4'. The heart beneath this final credits lingers, brightens, then fades.
