Alicekai'd 1.26: Becca and Jarred

     I had a strange dream last night. I think it stemmed from my random thought on whether or not I am a townie and not the main character in this world... because it was exactly that. What if I'm a mere byproduct of the computations going on to create the game world? Then how did this consciousness get transferred into this body? What if I never lived in the real world? What if, like I wondered once about Bruno, my memories are mere fabrications of the 1's and 0's that make up me?

     I get on the computer. It's time to travel the rabbit hole once more.

 

     Again, I don't really find anything, so I decide to type up my own thoughts. IF I'm merely a background character, why do I have conscious thought? I don't know much about philosophy, but I do remember hearing that Descartes said, "I think therefore I am." If that is true, then I DO exist. Somehow.

     So are there those who do not have conscious thought? I don't see how I could prove this. If an AI is asked whether or not it does, it would be programmed to answer in the affirmative, even though it's not true. One can only be sure of the self.

     THAT gets me thinking, and I type that into the search bar for SimTube. I find something.

     A man tells the hypothetical story of people who only ever experienced life in a dark basement. The only people they see are just shadows on the wall, and so they assume the shadows are real people. Then, one gets taken upstairs and shown what the world on the surface is like. The person sees how much more real the world is, and so he goes back down to the basement to tell everyone else what he's learned. However, he's unable to see in the dark anymore, and the others, seeing what has become of him, don't trust what is on the surface and decide it's too dangerous to venture forth into the unknown.

     Why does this sound familiar? I feel like I've heard a version of this before in some psychology class or something, but I can't pinpoint it. Perhaps I'm inventing a memory.

     And I don't even WANT to go down the rabbit hole of invented memories.

     I need to physically write in something. I go and find a notebook I'd bought before I moved into the house, and I sit at the table next to my computer and write. I need a flowchart or something to put all these pieces together.

     I'm trying to fit the basement story in with all the other things I've learned. Obviously, The Sims game is the basement. What most intrigues me is the idea that someone was TAKEN OUT to be shown what the real world is. That's, although hypothetical, the only thing I've found about someone going up a level.
 

 

 

     I can put it off no longer. It's time to play Rebecca, or 'Becca' in my movie. They'd previously shot as much as they could of all the other characters that didn't involve me, but as I'm the main character, it wasn't much.

     I have no idea why directors choose to start in the middle somewhere chronologically in the script, but today, I'm in an apology scene at the pack's headquarters.

 

     To make it easier and let me immerse myself, the crew either leave the studio or stand far enough back that I can't see them. That DOES help, but what it doesn't help is that I'm 'alone' with Mark, even if he's Jarred right now. We haven't spoken since he walked out, and thus far, we still haven't spoken anything but lines to each other.

     "I'm sorry. I didn't know that was a rule," I tell Jarred, talking about one of the pack's laws.

     "How could you have known?" He kisses my forehead.

     Honestly, I want to hit him every time he touches me. Apparently despising one another makes for fantastic sexual chemistry on set. No, you're Becca, remember? You're in love with a supernatural being and trying to fit into his world. 

     "Cut!" We hear.

     Mark lets out an 'augh!' sound. "What now?" We've done this scene ten times already--with just the one setup. That doesn't count the close-ups, etc. that are coming next.

     The director wants more emotion out of Mark when he kisses my forehead. Thrill.

     Becca looks up at Mark. "You love me, remember?" I smile sweetly.

     He responds with a glare.

     "From the top. Action!" cries our critical director.

     We work the lines again. Come on, dammit. Just get out of your own head and be Jarred! 

     Then the kiss. This time, he lingers on my hair. It's longer for the film. They put in extensions.

     Whoa. Mark, I mean Jarred wraps his hand around the back of my head this time, pulling on where the extensions attach. Ow! 

     "Cut!" 

     "Ow! You bastard!"

     The director ignores my complaint. "That was great, guys. I think we got it that time. Hold for playback."

     "Ugh!" I sit up to Mark's light laughter.

     "Not funny," I tell him.

     He laughs again. "Aw, you used to like it when I'd pull your hair." He smirks. "Besides, Chris loved it."

     "Yeah, well, Chris ain't gonna like it that hair has to reset me after every take if you keep that up."

     "I don't care if you have to wear a fucking wig, Alice."

     I glare at him. "Carlie's sleeping through the night."

     He looks away. "Don't talk to me."

     "Fine with me."

     The director's happy with that take, so the crew starts setting up the next shot. Finally. I get a break as second team gets called in. I make a beeline for the hair department.

     The rest of the day doesn't fare much better, and by the time we finally wrap, I'm exhausted. At least tomorrow is an afternoon call time. 

     Today, we're shooting the scene when Jarred has to leave and won't know when he'll get to come back. I'm supposed to cry.

     And Mark is shirtless. Again.

 

      At least we're shooting over my shoulder, meaning I don't have to actually produce the tears yet. That'll come later on the reverse. I'm wondering if director Chris did this on purpose because he's figuring me out. I get more emotional as the day wears on.

     "So you're just going to disappear, and I won't know what's happened to you?" I point at his why-do-you-have-to-be-so-sexy chest.

     "Yes. That's the way it has to be." He stoically ignores the physical abuse I'm giving him. Oh if only I actually got to hurt him. 

     "I don't believe you! You're using this as an excuse!"

     He sighs. "Why would I do that, Becca?"

     "Because you think I'm not good enough for you!" This is where the tears are supposed to come in. Surprise, Chris! Got 'em! I turn around and move to walk away, and I can FEEL the lens on my face.

     "Don't be ridiculous!" He stomps after me, and the dolly team moves along the track.

     "You know what, Jarred? Just LEAVE. Forget about me and go and die, leaving me to always wonder what happened."

     He cuts in front of me, blocking my advance, right on our markers.

     I cry into my hands, knowing I couldn't outrun him if I tried.

     "Becca, I'm not going to die."

     "Cut!"

     What the blazes did we do wrong? Why didn't he let us complete the scene? I watch the crew. Oh. Camera issue. Dammit. It's freaking hot out here, and apparently, the cameras don't like the heat any more than I do in this long-sleeved shirt and ten extra pounds of hair.

     Immediately, crew members dash over to us to cool us off. Some blessed saint holds up my hair while someone else fans the back of my neck.

     "Oh my god, thank you," I say before taking a swig of a water bottle someone handed me.

     Mark and I go have a seat in the shade, not speaking, while the other teams fix their issues.

     We do the scene over again a few more times. They all feel the same to me, but Chris finally feels happy, and we move on...

     ... to the damn kiss.

     I've been dreading this all day.

     I let Mark take the lead, having been an occasional soap star definitely made him fine with kissing on camera. I try to act like the desperate human girlfriend who's saying goodbye to the love of her life.

     Mark as Jarred really gets into it. When are they going to call cut? It's not the first time Chris has let us continue past the official end of the scene, just to see what we'd do. Most of it has been crap, though, so he probably won't use any of it.

     Wait.

     Mark moans and starts owning my mouth. What the hell? 

     He reaches down and grabs my ass. WHAT?! It's MARK kissing ALICE now, and he's pushing it too far. When his hand lands on my chest, I shove him off me.

     "You sonofabitch! That's not in the script!"

     "Up yours, Alice. I was in character. Why? Got a little too real for you?" He smirks.

     "I'm done here!" I turn and start making for the little base camp they'd set up. I need some A/C pronto. I nicely wait for the camera department to get the one they just used out of the sun before I can happily stomp off.

     "We're not finished, Alice," Mark calls out to me, and I see my assistant running over to me. "You can't just walk out like this."

     Oooooooo..... I can't believe he said that to me.

 

     "Right, because that's YOUR job," I retort.

     "Okay fine. We'll have it out." I hear him walking behind me. "Yeah, I walked out. Wouldn't you if someone you thought you might spend the rest of your life with said she didn't love you?"

     "I was just being honest."

     "What did I do wrong?" he asks.

     "Nothing. I don't know. It just wasn't there." I pause. "And now you've also walked out on Carlie."

     "About that." He takes a breath. "I have a lawyer writing up a custody thing. Probably have it by tomorrow."

     My heart drops into my stomach, and my assistant stops in her tracks, wisely staying back.

     "What?" I almost whisper, my voice like ice. "You're not taking my baby from me."

     "She's not just YOUR baby. I want visitation."

     "Visitation? With an infant?" After the words leave my mouth, my reasonable mind agrees that, yeah, he should have visitation. But I'm roasting out here and just had my ass unnecessarily grabbed.

     "Yeah! Dammit, Alice. I want to see my daughter. I walked out on you not her."

     "Fine. Just.... leave me alone." I start making my way to the blessed A/C.