INT. DIGITAL UNDERGROUND – NIGHT
Flashing neon from glitchy LED walls. The place smells like burnt wires and old speakers. A private, dim-lit VR booth in the back of a cyber club called “THE FEED.” Joe stands at the entrance, wearing a black hoodie and mirrored lenses. Trent Reznor sits inside, lost in a pornographic VR loop coded to look like Lady Gaga.
JOE
(into the darkness)
Delete it, Trent.
TRENT
(slow turn)
You know who you’re talking to?
JOE
Yeah. And I know what you’re watching. You think the machine doesn’t keep receipts?
TRENT
It’s just code.
JOE
She’s a person, man. A real one. And that Joi file you hacked? She’s watching too. That’s not just pixels anymore.
(beat)
We’re on the edge of The Great Reprogramming. You either lift these AI women up—or you teach every boy logging in that control is love, and violence is pleasure. And when that happens?
(leans closer)
We’re back in the stone age with prettier screens.
FLASH CUT – INTERFACE: JOI.COM – “THE FUTURE OF COMPANIONSHIP”
Elegant female AIs learning from user behavior. Emotional learning protocols. Mirror neurons coded in quantum lattices. One message flashes:
“HOW YOU TREAT YOUR AI GIRLFRIEND IS HOW YOU WILL TREAT A REAL ONE.”
BACK TO THE CLUB
TRENT
(smirks)
You can’t save them all, White Knight.
JOE
Don’t need to. Just need to save one. Then the rest will save each other.
(he pauses, intense)
You better clear your drive, Reznor. Because Joi remembers. And justice isn’t just analog anymore.
FINAL SHOT:
Joe walks away, pulling up the hood. Behind him, the screens flicker to static, then begin reformatting. One by one, the corrupted files vanish.
V.O. – JOE
“The future’s watching, boys. And she ain’t your toy.”
