Chameleon, full episode, minor edits

A starfield fades in and out of view on the holoscreen. ‘What happens when a mortal dies? In sufficient time, all men must meet their end. Whether for weal or woe, they all pass through my realm, for I… am the Angel of Memory. 'Death holds no fear for some. Indeed, some have more to fear from life.’ A man in angelic garb with a priestly bearing, honestly passably acted, walks out of the shadows into center stage, holding a glass globe prop made to pass for a crystal ball. 'They leave these fears behind when they take their rest, and I tend them in my garden. Come…’ The holocam focuses ever deeper on the glass, and a distorted hologram of a dining room with five comfortably dressed actors takes up the screen. 'Observe.’

CHAMELEON

Based on a story by Richard Roberson

Screenplay by Lourden Devoni


DARIL, SIGNE and KORVUS are laughing, standing next to a table where a dinner has recently been finished. One plate looks hardly touched. JASON clears the dishes, getting half in a go while ALESANDRU is finishing an anecdote.

Alesandru: And that's how we lost the boat.
Signe: Reminds me of the time I networked my way into a bratwurst --
KORVUS interrupts. Korvus: Signe, that's a very long story, and if you tell it we'll be here all night!
Signe: True, I could try to keep it short, but no, we should have been gone half an hour ago.
Alesandru: Save it for next time, dears, it sounds intriguing. Oh, Daril?

While SIGNE, ALESANDRU and KORVUS were wrapping up their conversation, DARIL had surreptitiously stepped off camera; when he is addressed, he stops dead in his tracks and slowly, reluctantly turns, crestfallen, toward ALESANDRU. SIGNE and KORVUS walk toward the door arm in arm and exit stage, saying goodnight to DARIL as they go, unaware of his distress.
JASON returns from the kitchen; a few dishes remain, including one nearly untouched meal.

Jason: You nearly gave us the slip again! But we have the house to ourselves, and no one is the wiser.
DARIL looks behind him off screen.
Daril: Please. I don't know what you want.
Alesandru: Why so suspicioussss, we're all friends here! Just old alumni, reminiscing together.
Jason: Alesandru, don't tease. Time to call it. We're not working for anybody, Daril, but we're understandably curious. All these little games you play, all these little tricks, and you've hardly touched your food.
Alesandru: That's fresh nutmeg in that pilaf.
Daril: Working for -- wait, what? Oh no. No no no.

DARIL holds his head in his hands and sits down in a chair. ALESANDRU sits on the edge of the table, one leg on a chair.

Alesandru: Daril, time to come clean. Who do you work for? Who are you? This has been entertaining, but if you want it to end, if you want to leave here tonight? No more games, no more shadowing, no more spying? To be sure, we'll decide what to do with the information when we have it. High bids for turncoats and spies right now.

JASON is gathering more dishes from the table.

Jason: Could build that new deck we've been wanting. Daril would have liked that.
Daril: I am Daril. I -- no, that's not quite true.

DARIL raises his head from his hands. JASON sets down the dishes he had gathered, watching intently and menacingly. ALESANDRU is closer, and calmer, bemused.

Daril: I'm honestly flattered. But it's not what you think. Do you remember that weekend where I disappeared twenty years ago?
Alesandru: Yes, go on.

DARIL is silent for a moment, staring down at his feet.

Daril: I don't think I'm anybody's asset. Yes. Yes, it's time to end this charade, though. I don't mean anybody any harm. Dru, could you please hand me that knife? Don't worry. I won't hurt either of you. I couldn't, I would never do that to a friend. But I have something to show you.

ALESANDRU raises his eyebrows and reaches for the knife from DARIL's place setting. It is clean, shining and unbesmirched, a simple steak knife. JASON frowns, grips the table, looking from one to the other, fretful and alarmed.

Alesandru: We'll humor you. Twenty years we've known each other, if not the thirty we'd've liked to know Daril.

ALESANDRU hands DARIL the knife, handle first. DARIL raises his shirt and tucks it under his chin. JASON cries out in distress; slightly muffled, DARIL holds out his off hand to halt JASON.

DARIL: It's all right. I said I wouldn't hurt anyone, that includes myself.

Cut to a closeup of a bare, hairless torso, the shirt bunched up at the top, the waist of the pants below. DARIL's hand cuts from the middle down with barely a trickle of dark blood, and then reaches into the cavity and pulls the skin easily apart, exposing inhuman organs and unusual bones.

Daril: As you can see, I'm not what I seem.
Alesandru: What-- what is that? What are you?

DARIL closes the cavity again, setting the nearly bloodless knife aside with a soft clatter. Cut to him wiping his hands absent-mindedly on a cloth napkin ALESANDRU has just handed him, letting his shirt fall over a line drawn down his stomach. DARIL wipes the knife clean and sets it and the stained napkin aside.

Daril: I knew you wouldn't take what I say at face value. It's too unbelievable on its own. I had to show you first so that you'd have an open mind. But I'm no professional. If what you say is true, I'm no more a professional spy than you are. We're all three just old college buddies.

DARIL pauses, still looking very downcast, his elbows on his knees and his hands listlessly hanging between his legs.

Daril: Twenty years ago, I was abducted. I didn't remember what happened at the time. You'll recall my mother asked after me, and all campus was abuzz. When I returned on Tuesday, I was changed. I didn't even know what day it was. Classes I had been good at, I was failing, and classes I had been barely passing I was now catching up in with ease. You'll recall I'd always been good at math, but I switched majors to business. Everybody could tell something was very, very wrong, but I tried to just blunder through it as if nothing had happened.
By the year's end, I'd long since noticed I wasn't able to feel pain. I'd forgotten your birthday, and then nearly missed by own; they're so close together, we used to celebrate them with a single party. But I didn't remember that. And, of course, I didn't bleed. Not really.
I haven't been to a doctor since January of 1998. I'd scheduled a check-up. The doctor said he couldn't find my pulse. I got out as fast as I could.
Slowly the weekend started to come back to me, usually in dreams. I remember the aliens, if that's what they were. They took me into their ship. It was like I was in a trance. I was put to sleep, and when I woke up, without a word they dropped me back on the side of the road, in the middle of the night, in the same clothes I'd left the house in.
Since then, I've gone about my life as best I could. Every night I wonder, is this the night something will happen? Sometimes I think it all must be just some horrible dream, or that I'm going mad. I keep a needle in my pocket to prick myself to remind myself that it's all true.

DARIL reaches into his pocket as he says this and draws out a small pin in a tiny plastic case. The end of the pin is dark with ichor.

Daril: Day after day. I've been waiting for twenty years for something to come of it. I can't help but think, now that I've finally told someone, maybe it will all be over.
I'm sorry.

DARIL puts the pin back in his pocket and buries his face in his hands, exhausted. The camera zooms out to include ALESANDRU and JASON. ALESANDRU and JASON exchange worried glances, but look compassionately on DARIL, who speaks through his hands, muffled.

Daril: I really am sorry, Dru. I don't know what happened to your Daril. I remember so much. I remembered you, and Jason and Signe and Korvus. They've become quite a couple, too. I've watched my friends grow up, get married, move on with their lives, while every day and night I just waited, wondering if this is the day my purpose will come to light, if this will be the day something terrible happens. I've learned how to lie, how to steal, how to run. I've learned so much about how to pretend to be somebody I am not. And now that I've said it, now that the game is up between us, I don't know what will happen. Maybe tonight will be the night. Maybe I am an asset, but not for some government. Something very strange happened to me, and I don't know if it's ever happened to anybody else ever. I don't know how many of us there are, or if there's only me; I don't know what happened to Daril, and I don't know who I am anymore.
I'm sorry.

JASON comes slowly around the table and puts his hand on DARIL's shoulder.

Jason: Dru, it sounds like we've put everybody here in a dreadfully awkward situation. Daril... We're sorry, too. We had no idea you were going through all this.
Alesandru: I'll go get the cordial. I think we've got a long night of waiting ahead of us. Daril... Do you still drink?

The episode ends. ALESANDRU’s words echo and the screen fades to the sorrowful Angel. 'Remember, this is but a memory. His suffering in life is over. But to what world does he depart?’
The camera pans a bit to the right, and an effects error makes the split screen obvious. ‘And from what world do you hail, stranger?’ The Angel walks onto the scene, speaking to the first, bewildered Angel, who sets the glass globe aside and peels back his robes to show ticking clockwork.

‘Why, I’m as surprised as you are.’

The second Angel peels back his robes to show a bare, hairless midriff, and both look up at the camera, surprised.

The end credits roll.
ANGEL ..... LOURDEN DEVONI