Untitled Storyboard

Šmykľavka: 1
Ofglen and I stand outside Soul Scrolls, looking through the shatterproof windows... Now I shift my gaze. What I see is not the machines, but Ofglen, reflected in the glass of the window... She's looking straight at me. We can see into each other's eyes... She holds my stare in the glass, level, unwavering. Now it's hard to look away... There is risk, suddenly, in the air between us, where there was none before. Even this meeting of eyes holds danger. Though there;s nobody near
Šmykľavka: 2
At last Ofglen speaks... She is whispering: our habit at the Center.
In the past these would have been a trivial enough remark, a kind of scholarly speculation. Right now it's treason. I could scream. I could run away. I could turn from her silently, to show her I won't tolerate this kind of talk in my presence. Subversion, sedition, blasphemy, heresy, all rolled into one. I steel myself.
Do you think God listens to these machines?
Šmykľavka: 3
She lets out her breath, in a long sigh of relief. We have crossed the invisible line together.
No.

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