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Act Two (Mulder is sat next to Sculley in the economy section of a regional flight. In the window seat is spotty, overweight kid, playing a Nintendo machine remorselessly. It is driving Mulder to distraction.) Sculley: sat in the aisle seat) What are we doing in economy class? We always fly business. Mulder: It was the best I could get. Hundreds of delegates for some sort of convention on abattoir automation booked all the good tickets. Sculley: Ah. I wondered what all those people with knives and cleavers were doing in check-in.
Snotty Kid: Yeah! Fucking right! (He waves the Nintendo under Mulders nose) Twenty-two thousand, eight hundred and fifty points. Take that sucker! Mulder: Yes, very interesting. Sculley: Mulder: (looking down at his right hand, which is twitching like a dervish) I dunno. I guess I’m really strung out. I haven’t slept for days. Sculley: Haven’t washed for days, you mean. (Suddenly the kid next to Mulder goes crazy, jumping up and down in his seat, prodding the buttons of the GameBoy with gusto) GameBoy: Whizzzzzzz...weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee... eeeeeeeeeeoioooooooooo... Carump, boooom!! Snotty Kid: Yeah, yeah! Take that, death-dealing aliens. You’ll not out-smart me. Die! Die! Die! Mulder: (above the racket) Will you kindly stop doing that? Snotty Kid: (not pausing with his game) Sod off grandpa, or I’ll tell my dad about you. Blood. Mulder: (turning to Sculley. Now one eyebrow has an involuntary twitch) How’d he know we’re agents? How’d he know that? Sculley: Probably something to do with your pistol discharging in the check-in hall. Mulder: Oh yeah, forgot 'bout that. Do you think that woman will be all right? Sculley: Oh yes, I’m sure. It was only a graze. But shouldn’t you have told the staff you were F.B.I before claiming Diplomatic Immunity? Mulder: No, this is really insy-winsy, backie-scratchie. Sculley: Don’t you mean "secret squirrel" or "mums-the-word", or "hush-hush". Mulder: Uh. Hey look, I’ve got to tell you something. This could be our most dangerous assignment... Sculley: I’ll say. That bullet hit my Walkman. Destroyed my Simply Red tape. Mulder: No, no. Really. I mean this could be the end for both of us. I’ve uncovered what could be the greatest threat to humanity known so far. Sculley: (Not particularly impressed) Do tell. Mulder: It’s all to do with "sequences". (Sculley raises an eyebrow. He continues regardless). Now the term "sequences" can only mean one thing; genetic tampering with human beings. Sculley: Gene recombination? Alteration of the human genome to produce a new variant of mankind, perhaps stronger, less prone to disease, long-lived, without the threat of Alzheimer’s, or deliberating illness late in life? Mulder: (shaking his head) Nope. More likely to turn you and future generations into dribbling cretins, with your brains turned into mush. Sculley: What evidence do you have for this? Mulder: Just a few suspicions... GameBoy: Blat! Blat! Blat!...Kaboom!.. ZooooooooooooM!... Di dah! Di dah! Di dah! Mulder: (snatching the GameBoy out of Snotty Kid’s hands, and switching it off) For crying out loud! I can’t hear myself think! Snotty Kid: Hey, you can’t do that mister. You’ve no right. That’s theft. I’ll get you sorted, you wait and see (he stands up in his chair, and waves) Hey Miss! Miss! (A Stewardess sees the waving from the front galley, and starts walking down the aisle. Mulder ignores the commotion and slips the GameBoy into his inside jacket pocket. He leans over to continue speaking to Sculley. The Snotty Kid continues to yell.) Mulder: I’ve not pieced it together yet, but there’s some pretty compelling evidence. As far as I can see these "sequences" revolve around something called midi. Sculley: Midi? You mean Musical Instrument Digital Interface? A popular format for the creation of multi-track music, allowing various electronic musical instruments to interact with each other, in an industry-agreed manner, and thus bringing to the world the promise of a universal musical interface. Until of course it is completely superseded by MP3 Mulder: (blinking at her confident knowledge) Uh, no. I was sort of thinking; Mankind’s Imminent Destruction Initiative.
The term keeps on appearing in files that come my way. I try to open them but they are obviously using some form of binary encryption. Sculley: (shaking her head in despair) So we’re investigating The MIDI Files? Mulder: (nodding vigorously) Yeah. It’s kinda confusing. On one side we might be dealing with these Camel guys, or creatures, or whatever they are, and on the other these sequencers. Could get really messy. (The Stewardess arrives. The Snotty Kid is still standing up in his chair, pointing at Mulder). Snotty Kid: It’s him Miss. He stole my GameBoy. Stewardess: (leaning over Sculley) I’m sorry sir. Do you have this boy’s game? Mulder: (trying his best innocent look) Look Miss, I only took it off him because it’s causing a racket. I’ll give it back when we land. Snotty Kid: (to the Stewardess) Hey, that’s not right. It’s my property. I’ll tell my dad. He’s a lawyer. He’ll sue the airline. You’ll lose your job. (he points a finger at Mulder) Anyway, I reckon HE suffers from Air Rage. Mulder: Oh come on! Look, I just confiscated it temporarily. Anyway, how come he can use it? You can’t use laptop computers or mobile phones on these flights. Stewardess: (nods almost imperceptibly to someone up the aisle. A plainclothes Sky Marshall leaves his seat at the back of the plane and starts walking towards the commotion). I think sir, you should kindly hand the toy back. Mulder: (sees the Sky Marshall appear at the shoulder of the Stewardess, now wearing an identity badge on the lapel of his jacket) Oh come on! (he fishes into his jacket pocket and the GameBoy falls to the floor) GameBoy: Eeeeeeeeeeeeyoiiiiii!!!!...duhduhduhduh!!!!...keeeeeeeeeeeen!...grdoing...splat!
Snotty Kid: You’ve broken it! (he punches Mulder on the shoulder) Mulder: Ow! Sky Marshall: (who is very large and muscular, with a trademark moustache, and what looks like a piece of hand artillery inside his jacket) I think you had better follow me sir. Mulder: (still fishing in his jacket) Look, I’m an FBI agent, here’s my ID (he produces a card and waves it at the Sky Marshall) Sky Marshall: That’s an AMEX card, sir. Stewardess: (gets a glimpse of what else is under Mulders jacket) My God! He’s got a gun! (The passengers nearby, already fascinated by the incident, suddenly collectively gasp, and duck into their seats. The Sky Marshall doesn’t hesitate. Seeing his seat belt isn’t secured, he shoves the Stewardess aside and reaches over, lifts Mulder bodily out of his seat and throws him onto floor of the aisle. He applies a knee into the small of his back) Mulder: Sculley! Help me! (his arms are handcuffed) Look, I’m on a mission; a really important mission. I’m out to save mankind! From an alien menace. You have to let me go! Sculley! Sky Marshall: (retrieving Mulders pistol and pocketing it) Alien menace eh? I see, sir. (he looks back to Sculley, who is watching events with avid interest). Is this gentleman with you, madam? Sculley: (shrugging) Never seen him before in my life, officer.
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