We go to war
of those after us,
Copyright © 2016 by E.B. Akintunde
All rights reserved
To everyone who believes we all have a part to play in Reformation.
[* INT. TRIPLE 8 COMPLEX -CALL CONFERENCE ROOM, AROUND DELE'S DESK - AFTERNOON *]
DELE, late 20s, ends a call and turns to his colleagues, JIMMY, early 30s, TOLU, early 30s, and CHIKA, mid-30s.
GOODSWILL, mid-30s, sits at his desk, two desk away from Dele’s, on a revolving chair like every other chair in the room, facing his other perspiring colleagues.
The Conference Room is the Help desk for an initiative called The Triple 8 Program. Each attendant in the room referred as a Service Representative.
DELE: (sighs) That was a good job guys.
CHIKA: Sure it was my man. Sure it was.
TOLU: Anybody up for barbecue?
JIMMY: Do you even had to ask?
Goodswill turns a half-smile at the boys and watches Jimmy walk to him.
JIMMY: Cheer up brother; they don’t call those bitches bitches for nothing.
An emergency call beeps on Dele’s desk as Goodswill watches his colleagues walk out the gliding door of the call-conference-room. He becomes conscious of the beep and calls to Jimmy, last man at the door.
GOODSWILL: There’s an emergency. Can you please answer…?
JIMMY: (walks out the door) Someone else will. Going to eat man.
Goodswill looks around and realises everybody else is on a call.
He sighs and puts his PC’s headphone to his ears.
END OF TEASER
EPISODE TITLE: THE TRIPLE 8 PROGRAM
[* INT. TRIPLE 8 COMPLEX -CALL CONFERENCE ROOM, AT GOODSWILL'S DESK - CONTINUOUS *]
Goodswill has a touch flat screen PC on his desk, like every other PCs in the room, with a keyboard, desk-phone, desktop microphone and a glorified data-logger.
He answers the call.
GOODSWILL: Welcome to Triple 8 emergency help centre. How may I help you?
EXT. HIGHWAY (AKIN ADESOLA ROAD) – CONTINUOUS
JAMES, late 40s, who has lost control of his car, fixes his Mobile into his car handsfree. He pumps hard at his brake while peeping at his ten year old daughter, ELLA, tending to his heavily pregnant wife who’s rolling on the backseat in pain.
GOODSWILL: (on phone) Hello… How may I help you?
JAMES: My stop pedal is not pumping. My gear too. I can’t… oh God…
GOODSWILL: (on phone) Are you in an accident sir? Are you alright sir?
James peeps at his wife and daughter.
I mean no. I don’t know.
GOODSWILL: (on phone) Calm down sir. We’ll get help.
[* CALL CONFERENCE ROOM -GOODSWILL'S DESK - CONTINUOUS *]
Goodswill pings at his PC screen, zooming the location of the caller on a map-grid.
GOODSWILL: The paramedics will…
He takes a closer look at the caller location and realises the speed with which the pointer, labelled as caller, moves along the highway grid on his screen.
Shit! I mean, sir, are you still in motion?
JAMES: (on phone) Don’t you understand what am saying? (shouts) I have a ten years old here and my stop pedal is not pumping.
God, the park. The intersection. There is usually traffic there.
GOODSWILL: A ten years old? In a moving locomotive not pumping, right?
GOODSWILL: Let’s panic sir. Try downshifting into low gear sir, bring it down to one.
JAMES: (on phone) It’s un-gearing.
Looks back at his family.
I don’t think I can use the hbrake either… (sighs) God.
GOODSWILL: You are on Akin Adesola Road.
Goodswill waves to a passing colleague, RITA, 20s, female.
Silence on the other end of the line.
Am I right sir? Akin Adesola?
HIGHWAY (AKIN ADESOLA ROAD)
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