Hamster Dance

You may be entitled to compensation

[The large, vaulted hangar that is X headquarters in San Francisco, as described in previous episodes. ELON MUSK, dressed like Hugo Drax in Moonraker, wearing also an Apple Vision Pro headset, stands behind his desk, gesturing awkwardly. Seated in front of the desk, wearing an undistinguished grey suit and barely paying attention, is MUSK’s weary, middle-aged lawyer/factotum BARKSIDE, as seen in “The Genius.” He has a briefcase between his ankles.]

MUSK: [Murmuring] These too, my dear… these are erogenous zones… everywhere I touch you, yes, yes.

[Suddenly MUSK raises his hands and appears to be strangling an invisible person. BARKSIDE sighs, take a water pistol out of the briefcase, stands and spritzes MUSK, who whips off the headset, brushes away the water, and stares.]

That was close, Barkside.

BARKSIDE: [Putting away the spray bottle] Uh huh.

MUSK: The man of genius dares greatly, but he must also know when to say “enough.”

[MUSK hunches over the desk, consults its many iPads on stands there.]

Any change in coverage?

BARKSIDE: I’m afraid not, sir.

MUSK: You didn’t look!

BARKSIDE: Notwithstanding.

MUSK: Voetsek!

[With an impetuous sweep of his hand MUSK knocks objects from his desk, walks around to the front. As he speaks two minions dressed in full-body hamster suits scurry in, crouched, pick the objects up, put them back on the desk, and scurry back.]

Why is this, how could this be allowed? I have fewer rights that a kaffir in a coffee shop! Since when are the records of a trial at law not secret and confidential? They were back in SA, by God. My father ran down some colored boy, two minutes in court, no more was ever said! Now they plaster it all over, make me look like a bloody idiot! You, what are you doing about it?

BARKSIDE: We’re bringing motions, of course.

MUSK: Motions! Bah. What are you doing about the people who read the transcripts?

BARKSIDE: Who read the transcript? Sir, there’s nothing to be done.

MUSK: Idiot! There’s always something to be done! What about a class action suit? I get postcards, you know. You think I don’t read them, but I do! Class actions against AT&T, against a big bank. I may be entitled to compensation! Thousands of people, millions of people get the postcards! Well, why can’t they get postcards that say, “You have read an illegal transcript, now show cause why you should not be summonsed!”

BARKSIDE: It would be impossible to bring suit against all the —

MUSK: Idiot! Bugger! Of course it would! But they don’t know that! And they’d be terrified to share the transcript, terrified the polisie would sweep in and throw them in the tronk! It’s a deterrent!

BARKSIDE: Sir, have you ever heard of the Streisand Effect?

MUSK: Again with the Streisand Effect! Why do people keep saying that to me? Why? Why? Aaaagh! [Cries out] Druhgs! Druuuuuhgs!

[A squad of human hamsters race in and surround MUSK. One positions itself in front of MUSK; it holds a red bottle and a blue bottle.]

Red!

[The lead hamster sprays MUSK’s face with the red bottle; the others stand with their hands up, as if to catch him if he falls or goes berserk. MUSK shakes his head, seems to stand a little taller. He grabs both the bottles, gestures off; the hamsters scurry away.]

Ha! Ha ha! All the inferior people with their coffee and their cocaine! Like you buy from criminals! [He holds the bottles aloft] This, this is what fuels the human mind.  [Regarding the red bottle] Synapses fuse. Barriers between the id, the ego, the superego, dissolved, obliterated! And when it’s all too much [Regarding the blue bottle], this, to straighten jagged brainwaves. Restful awareness. Instant zen! [Sneering at BARKSIDE] You idiots talk about wine like this. But wine only makes you stupid and sluggish! Taste! Taste and see the goodness of the Lord!

[MUSK spritzes BARKSIDE from the red bottle. BARKSIDE backs up, his hands in front of his face.]

BARKSIDE: No! I told you! My heart! I can’t!

MUSK: You worm! Taste and see!

[MUSK continues to chase and spray BARKSIDE.]

BARKSIDE: [Coughing] Stop! No! You’re killing me, you’re – you’re –

[BARKSIDE collapses. Pause. MUSK drops the bottles. The hamsters creep in slowly. One catches MUSK’s eye, pulls out a knife, draws a line across its own neck, raises the knife and nods expectantly. Pause. BARKSIDE coughs, stirs. The hamster puts the knife away. Another hamster runs to the desk, opens a drawer, runs back with two stacks of cash tied with rubber bands, looks at MUSK, who nods. The hamster places one of the stacks in front of BARKSIDE. BARKSIDE feebly touches the stack, seems to falter. The hamster looks at MUSK, who nods again. The hamster puts down the other stack. BARKSIDE grasps the new stack with his other hand, then pulls himself up a bit. He finds his way to his knees.]

MUSK: Working too hard, Barkside. Take a week off.

[The hamsters surround BARKSIDE, bear him up and carry him away still clutching the stacks. Pause. Suddenly MUSK snaps his fingers.]

The implants! That’s it! When they all have implants I can erase the transcripts! I can – I can –

[MUSK starts to run to the desk, then reverses, grabs the bottles, then continues to the desk, where he presses some buttons. Loudly.]

Musk here! Notes! Copy!

[Theremin sting.]

RIDICULOUS 80s FEMALE COMPUTER VOICE: Copy. Activated.

MUSK: Notes now! Arm AI to massage! Copy!

RIDICULOUS 80s FEMALE COMPUTER VOICE: Copy. AI engaged.

MUSK: OK. Step up Neuralink! Full speed ahead! Double speed, triple speed! Everyone must have!

[MUSK sprays himself with the red bottle. His eyes widen.]

Take, take from Tesla. Take from SpaceX. Take from Twitter — I mean X! Starlink if you have to! Beg borrow steal! Everyone must have! Alles! Alles! Alles!

[MUSK’s eyes cross. With some difficulty he grabs the blue bottle and sprays himself. He opens his mouth to speak, collapses behind the desk. Pause.]

RIDICULOUS 80s FEMALE COMPUTER VOICE: Sir. Sir.

[The hamsters creep in very slowly. One of them hangs back and, as the others close in on MUSK, surreptitiously heads toward the desk.]