THE SHORT HOUR S1E4: Paid for by the Galactic Breakfast Association

Seeing that turian and his disgusting body (seriously, it looked like his carapace was going to explode) has made my day a lot less happy

[The shot opens on a very smarmy-looking older man in a white shirt and a creamy brown dinner jacket smiling at the viewer. His eyes are as black as jet, and his graying hair is curly enough to belong on a lamb. He holds up his steepled fingers as he talks, revealing a multitude of rings studded with semi-precious stones.]

[MAN] “Hello, there, viewers. My name is Vincent Clotho, and I want your money.”

[Vincent is now lying on an inflatable raft in the middle of a vast pool, attended by half-naked women and drones overladen with drinks and food.]

[VINCENT] “You may have heard of me from the Illium stock exchange; yes, that’s right, I’m that Vincent Clotho, multimillionaire, stock exchange expert, and one-time visitor of the Illium Low-Security Penitentiary of White Collar Criminals for two decades. I recently completed my sentence and I’m looking to rebuilding my fortune again. And to do that, I need your help.”

[A shot to Vincent playing novagolf on a finely cut, purple-hued Illium lawn. A turian in the background claps appreciatively at Clotho’s shot.]

[VINCENT] “You see, I’ve become accustomed to a standard of living that, well, some might call ostentatious, but I consider fabulous. And while a number of my ill-gotten gains are still hidden in banks across the universe, the funds in them won’t allow me to keep up this lifestyle for long. Even worse, I’ve been implanted with a court-ordered ‘liar’s probe’ to keep me from ever telling a falsehood again as long as it’s under my skin, otherwise my head will explode.”

[A close-up of Vincent tapping his chest with a sad, matter-of-fact smile on his face, as if this was a fiber commercial.]

[VINCENT] “So I’m not going to lie to you. I’ll be honest. I want your money. I want you to send me your credits so I can relax and live a life of minimal effort and worry. If you send me 10,000 credits today, I’ll send you a copy of my bestselling book ‘How to Screw the Banks and Almost Get Away With it’ complete with autograph. Lesser contributions will be thanked with less complete versions of my book and an indecipherable smudge."

[A shot of Vincent running down a street in clearly expensive running equipment.]

[VINCENT] “Isn’t honesty amazing? Don’t you feel better knowing the truth? Send me money today, and maybe, you’ll start feeling better about yourself, too.”

I have to admire his honesty.

I want to send him money for some reason.

I'm not sure you want to buy a book that says "Almost got away with it".

Sad thing is he'll probably get money this way, too. There's a sucker born every minute.

And now...

AVALON

[Exterior. A clearing on the shore of a lake. Enter King Arthur, accompanied by Merlin, the Wizard.]

[King Arthur] “Good Merlin, I have no sword.”

[Merlin] “Knowing cavalierness: No force, my liege. For hereby is a sword that shall be yours, an I may.”

[The wizard gestures towards the lake with a paw, and Arthur beholds an asari’s arm, clad in the finest samite, holding aloft a sheathed sword.]

[Merlin] “With mystical authority: Yonder is the sword, my liege.”

[King Arthur] “God’s hooks! What damosel is that?”

[Merlin] “Mysteriously: That is the Lady of the Lake, and within that lake is a rock, and therein is as fair a place as any on earth and as richly beseen, and this damosel will come to you anon...”

[He takes a breath.]

[Merlin] “...and then speak ye fair to her that she might give you that sword, my liege, for it is a passing good sword, as will serve ye well in these days to come.”

[As he speaks, the Lady of the Lake rises from the waters, and steps onto the shore. The arm continues to hold the sword aloft.]

[Lady of the Lake] “Well met, Arthur, son of Uther Pendragon, King of all Britain.”

[King Arthur] “Good damosel, what sword is that, which yonder the arm holdeth above the water? I would it were mine, for I have no sword and am passing vexed.”

[Lady of the Lake] “Sir Arthur, King, that sword is Excalibur and it is mine, and if ye will give me a gift when I ask it you, ye shall have it.”

[King Arthur] “By my faith, I will give what gift ye ask.”

[With a mighty heave, the arm lobs the sword through the air. The Lady of the Lake catches it by the sheathed blade and offers the shining weapon to Arthur as the arm sinks back under the water.]

[Lady of the Lake] “Go in peace, and know that I shall ask my gift an I see the time.”

[As she descends into the lake from whence she came, the King and Merlin return to the shore. Drawing the sword partly from its sheath, Arthur marvels at the quality of the blade in his hand.]

[King Arthur] “I like this sword passing well, Merlin.”

[Merlin] “Obviously leading: Whether liketh you better, my liege, the sword or its scabbard?”

[The King’s brow furrows with puzzlement.]

[King Arthur] “Why...me liketh better the sword.”

[Merlin] “Derisive laughter: Ha. Ha. Ha. Ha.”

[A pause.]

[Merlin] “Risibly: Ha. Ha. Ha. Ha.”

[Another pause.]

[Merlin] “Smug superiority: Ye are the more unwise, for the scabbard is worth ten of the swords, for whiles ye have the scabbard upon you, ye shall never lose no blood, nor be ye ever so sore wounded; therefore keep well the scabbard always with you.”

[In the background, a pair of salarians carries a glass pane through the shot. The word “gniwodahserof” is inexplicably written on the side.]

[Fade out.]

Awww not this boring shit again. I can't even understand what the fuck those people are saying half the time. And with all this talk of fucking swords they hardly ever use the fucking things.

...And now the fucking elcor is saying the scabbard is better.

Fuck this shit

Um.

That's something.

Good production value

I, er, think you need to note the actual lesson that's intended in this. See, the DDS is trying to tell you something. I guess you're not in on it yet, but there's always a real, deeper meaning to all this. It's a message, political commentary, and this episode is really relevant to the krogans' future. I, er, don't think you quite got what it's telling you.

No offense.

IT'S BORING AS SHIT!

Looking up 'Avalon' on the Extranet, I'm getting hits for a human legend about a legendary king.

Of course. Fair Arthur, son of Camelot, King of the Britons, defeater of the Saxons, sovereign of all England, quester for the Holy Grail, the cup that giveth life. A very, very important part of Terran history, actually. Well. Mythology.

Well. Maybe both. We're not quite sure about the whole Arthurian legend thing. Some say he was a celtic tribal chief, others say he was made up by someone looking to make their claim to the throne more legendary, and some say he will return from Avalon when Britain needs him most. Of course, that time was during the Reaper invasion, and I haven't heard any stories of an ancient king holding aloft a jeweled longsword to defeat a Reaper, but, well, it's possible even WORSE is coming.

Fuck you. You don't know a good show when you see one. The elcor's gonna have eye lasers or something or a power scabbard that shoots lightning. He says something about scabbards meaning you don't lose blood. Maybe it's poisoned?

I dunno. Either way, you're just too stupid to understand it.

Naturally.

Naturally, the first thing I see on the trideo after returning from a well-earned vacation is this. Naturally. Naturally. No, don't mind me, universe, I was merely content in the illusion that the universe was starting to make sense, that there were forces of goodness and logic in the world, that the Healer's touch was finally cleansing this plane of existence of the taint of evil and corruption... and the first thing that pops up when I return ... is this.

Joy.

[Next up: a blank, empty concrete room. Inside it are Terrorbyte, Dwick, and an unnamed (yet highly familiar-looking) krogan child... along with what appears to be a human tied to a chair. The human is very professionally gagged.

Around his neck is a sign reading DURG DEELUR.]

TERRORBYTE: “This... is your *hssssk* brain.”

[Terrorbyte slowly drags an inflatable, life-size quarian doll filled with sand over to Dwick.]

TERRORBYTE: “This... is your brain on *hssssssk* huff.”

[Dwick grins, hefts the doll by the feet, and bashes it into the figure like an eight-ton whip. He does it again, and again, and again and again, sending blood, gore and (wait, was that a cooked sausage?) - until there’s very little but a cloud of sand, a smear of blood, and a vacantly-staring infant.]

TERRORBYTE: “Any *hssssk* questions?”

[As the lights fade out...]

[DWICK] “WAIT I GOT O--”

[End of PSA.]

A time-lapse shot of the reconstruction of Lagos. Buildings rise, tent cities disappear, and debris clears away in a matter of seconds.]

[Narrator] “In the year following the Reaper invasion, KSK Enterprises provided over two hundred million credits’ worth of inoculative agents, health supplements, and much-needed medical relief to Earth’s reconstruction effort...at cost.”

[An overhead view of Omega’s central district, bustling with activity and tourists. The distinctive gleam of Afterlife’s towers and marquees provide a strange neon filter over the busy evening’s tableaux.]

[Narrator] “KSK Enterprises stepped in after Omega was retaken, and provided economic incentives for clinics and other medical small businesses on the station, so that the abuses its citizens suffered under Cerberus wouldn’t go untreated.”

[A close-up shot of a smiling man receiving an injection.]

[Narrator] “And when news came out of this year’s bioweapon attack on Yukawa’s mining outposts, KSK Enterprises was on the scene and participated in a system-wide inoculation program that rendered Pale Luna totally ineffective - so much so that it hasn’t been used in an attack since.”

[At last, the feed settles on a top-floor office. A slender, hard-edged man in an English-cut business suit and sunglasses stands by a floor-to-ceiling window, overlooking London’s rooftops.]

[Narrator] “Hi. I’m Jareth Slate, co-founder and chief executive of KSK Enterprises. We’ve come a long way as a galaxy in the past year, but we’ve still got further to go, and recently I’ve been wondering what we could do to help our non-human clientele. Well, I’m proud to say that after extensive clinical testing, we’re finally ready to debut our first set of physical performance supplements designed specifically for turian use: Aviax.”

[A graphic displays a box. It’s probably a good thing that they decided on ‘Aviax’ instead of something like ‘Celotaph-D’. You don’t want retail customers accidentally mixing their chiralities, and if anyone could pull that mistake off, it’s retail customers.]

[Narrator] “Like our human-specific supplement, Celotaph, Aviax boosts physical performance by increasing muscle growth, boosting the immune system, and slowing down the lifespan of ATP-producing mitochondria within the cells. Unlike Celotaph, Aviax is totally compatible with turian physiology and safe for turian laborers, miners, and frontier settlers to take in order to improve their job performance.”

[The graphic drops, and the human pushes up his sunglasses and finger-guns the camera.]

[Narrator] “So ask your physician about Aviax, and if you’re a Terminus-based labor corporation that employs turians, check out our extranet site and see if our Supply Line Plan is right for your workforce. You’ll feel brand new in a matter of weeks - that’s the KSK guarantee.”

[Fade out.]

[Extremely Fast Disclaimer Man] ”Aviax may be banned from use in sports that disallow performance-enhancing drugs. Contact your local athletics commission for specific details. Aviax may cause weight gain and increased appetite, particularly during the first two weeks. Contact a medical professional if symptoms persist. Aviax is not designed for ingestion by any species other than turians and may cause medical problems if taken by levo-amino species. Ask your physician and obtain a legal prescription before beginning an Aviax regimen.”

I'm more than a little uneasy about a performance-enhancer that's name is one letter away from "empty tomb".

[Your screen is assaulted with the most eye-gougingly psychedelic image you’ve ever seen. Slowly, lazily, the image of a volus in a green envirosuit floats into view. For some reason, the volus’ envirosuit has twice as many hoses as the normal variety, and there are several glass jars filled with greenish liquid attached to his armor. The entire thing has a very ‘poorly edited on a budget’ feel to it. One gets the impression that the DDS is now allowing retailers to make their own commercials.]

VOLUS: “Whooooooooooa! Hello, my *pfffffft* fellow children of the cosmos! I’m *pfffffffft* Pol Pott, owner of the *pffffffffffffft* Valiant Volus Gift, Smoke, and Hobby Shop on Omega - and let me tell you, we’ve got a *pfffffffffffffft* hell of a deal for you here today! Let’s follow *pffffffffffffft* Gingermane the Fairy to see what’s going ooooon!”

[A very poorly rendered avatar of a fairy - the future’s equivalent of clip art - flies on screen. Pol Pott starts ‘floating’ behind her towards what appears to be a mass-effect powered escape pod bristling with hoses and various filtration tubes.]

POL POTT: “Whoooooo*pffffft*oooooh, what’s this, Gingermane? Is that what I think it *pffffffft* is?”

[Gingermane doesn’t respond, but her avatar moves jerkily and makes jingling noises.]

POL POTT: “Far out, maaaaan. Guys, it looks like the Valiant *pfffffft* Volus is offering you a once in a lifetime deal - an opportunity to purchase one of our very own patented WEED WOMBS at the low, low *pffffffft* price of only 9,999 credits. We take an old escape pod, right? We hitch on some zero-g mass effect *pfffft* fields to it, then we overhaul the filtration system and fill the interior with some of the trippiest *pffffffft* shit we can find, man. S’great. It’s like floating in the womb of the universe, man, going back to the *pfffffft* dawn of time and shit. Each one of these is based off the original model I designed *pffffft*, so you know it’s quality! Hell, each one even comes with its own 72-hour life support supply, just in case you *pffffft* take one hell of a long astral voyage, you know what I mean?”

[Gingermane jingles again.]

POL POTT: “What’s that, Gingermane? You think we should *pffffffft* give them a freebie at that price, too? Well, why not? We’re all *pffffft* children of the universe, man. Tell you what - order now, and not only will I waive the shipping *pffffffft* fees, but I’ll also throw in a pound of primo Omegan Purple Nurple. That’s right! The hachix mix so *pfffffft* dank it’s like smelling the forest floor, man! Guaranteed to even get an *pfffffffft* elcor high.”

[Without warning, an elcor in what has to be the largest tie-dyed shirt in existence wanders into the shot. His eyes are red and puffy.]

ELCOR: “Distantly confused: It is the stickiest of the icky.”

POL POTT: “We’ve also got glass pipes, hookahs, water pipes, envirosuit conversion *pffffffft* kits, huff misters, t-shirts, role-playing games, and more! So come down to *pffffffffft* the Valiant Volus today! We’ll save a spot in the *pffffffffft* band for you!”

[Then, mysteriously, bot Pol Pott and the elcor start playing musical instruments and dancing as Gingermane ‘dances’ around them. It’s all very far out. Very slowly, the words “THE VALIANT VOLUS” fall down into the screen.

The commercial continues on for a full five more minutes of the elcor and the volus dancing, then fades out.]