All Apartheid the Job

Elon brain-sturms

[Night. The large, vaulted hangar that is X headquarters in San Francisco, as described in previous episodes, but now with a large U.S. Presidential seal behind the big desk. Planted among the many iPads on stands there is a larger display screen; seated before and staring intently at the screen is ELON MUSK, dressed like Victor Spinetti in A Hard Day’s Night. Near him on the desk is a large clear plastic cup with a lid and a straw. MUSK feverishly bangs away at a keyboard; stupid violent noises come out of the screen. Suddenly majestic music plays; MUSK throws his fists into the air and spins in his seat.]

MUSK: Yes! Once again I am master of this incredibly difficult game!

[MUSK stands, speaks to someone behind the desk.]

Alright, Sanford.

[A young man in a beige unitard with a black armband bearing the DOGE Shiba Inu logo and beige deck shoes, carrying a Gamepad Controller, emerges from behind the screen. MUSK walks to the front of his desk.]

Take away that monitor and put it in my Hall of Trophies!

[The young man unplugs and carries out the screen as MUSK walks around with his fingers tented in front of his chin.]

I am in peak condition. My brain is lubricious! But it is all to a purpose. Ideas are what’s needed. Before my brain cools I must set to work.

[MUSK taps a ring on his fourth finger, holds the ring to his mouth, and speaks into it.]

Muster, come here, I need you.

[MUSK drops his arms to his sides, walks around, shakes out his hands.]

Even the few seconds it takes these idiots to obey my commands is maddening to me. My genius is that impatient! Perhaps this will help.

[MUSK grabs the plastic cup, takes a sip, savors, puts it down, rolls his shoulders.]

Aaaah, everything is rolllllling.

[IVAN MUSTER, the young aide seen in previous Musk episodes, enters, not wearing a suit as before, wearing instead a beige unitard with a black armband bearing the DOGE Shiba Inu logo and beige deck shoes. He is a bit more hollow-eyed than previously.]

Muster, we are going to brainstorm. What is wrong with Boeing?

MUSTER: Poor leadership, sir.

MUSK: Agreed! Ortberg is a fool, I should be in charge. Very well, let’s say I am in charge. And as Chairman of DOGE I may as well be! I can seize power if I so choose, do you not agree?

MUSTER: Of course, sir.

MUSK: Now, say I am in charge of the new Air Force One Alpha and Omega project. How would I get these airships delivered faster?

MUSTER: Fire most of the staff.

MUSK: Done! Now I take a victory lap!

[MUSK walks in a circle, stopping to sip from his cup as he goes.]

But it’s not enough. We have assured prompt delivery. Now. How can we make the airships more formidable? “Air Force One” — it lacks something. Don’t you agree?

[MUSTER hesitates.]

Don’t hesitate, Muster! I need your opinion!

MUSTER: [Quickly] It does, sir!

[MUSK cranes his head at MUSTER.]

You look a bit worn out, Muster.

[MUSK points at his cup.]

Would you like some of my K-K-Kool-Aid?

MUSTER: Thank you, sir. I’m just a little tired. Very hectic for me since I — I came on staff, sir.

MUSK. I see.

[MUSK reaches under his mohair, pulls out a stack of bills, banded, and throws them to MUSTER, who catches them and stows them in his unitard.]

MUSTER: Thank you, sir.

MUSK: Don’t mention it.

MUSTER: Alright, sir.

MUSK: [A little brusque] I mean it. Don’t mention it. It’s obsequious.

MUSTER: Ah.

MUSK: So how do we do it, Muster? Strike fear in the hearts of this nation’s enemies, and pride and admiration in the hearts of the umlungu?

MUSTER: Perhaps paint them black, sir? With a skull and crossbones?

MUSK: Like the Jolly Roger, eh? Clever, yes. But! Think! Is it not more fearsome to show that you are beyond that sort of show of fearsomeness? That you are carefree, sorgeloos, amoral? Like when I go like this —

[MUSK, with a fierce expression, gives the Hitler salute, then drops it, laughing, giddy.]

You know? The liberals howl, they howwwwl, but we, we broers, all laugh, don’t we? We say because they did nah-tzee that coming!

MUSTER: [Smiling wanly] I see, sir.

MUSK: You have Jewish blood, Muster?

MUSTER: On my mother’s side, sir.

MUSK: Then you know! You know it’s all meaningless, all so long ago and over and done with like — like World War II. Or Knots Landing! And yet they obsess, and that’s what makes us strong, what makes America strong –

[MUSK freezes several seconds. Then he runs to the desk, grabs an iPad, starts scrawling frantically. He hits a button the desk. The Presidential seal turns into a screen on which is scrawled the word POOPWAFFE. He looks expectantly at MUSTER, who applauds vigorously.]

MUSK: [Excitedly] Death from above!

[MUSK crouches like a dog defecating.]

That will be the mascot! Yes!

[MUSK stands, raises arms exultantly.]

This will be bigger than Peeing Calvin! I must tell the President!

[He produces an iPhone, speed dials, connects. Over the loudspeakers.]

TRUMP’S VOICE: You have reached a non-working number. That means you, Elon.

[MUSK hangs up.]

MUSK: We’ll tell him later. Now –

[MUSK yells into his ring.]

DANCE PARTY!

[“Miles on It” plays, lights flash, dozens of other unitard-dressed staff rush into the office and dance frenetically with MUSK, while MUSTER sidles off and counts his bankroll.]