Earth, Again
Ten years after humanity was forced back to a permanent pre-electric age, sixteen-year-old Liv learns her pacemaker battery is failing. Her father Robert — a former NASA engineer — leads a desperate thousand-mile horseback journey across Montana, Idaho, and Washington to reach a secret military prototype that might save her life. What they find at the end of the road will matter as much to the human race, as it will to Liv.
Earth, Again
1 - Dead Air
Use Left/Right to seek, Home/End to jump to start or end. Hold shift to jump forward or backward.
SCENE 1 - "THE PUMP"
EXT. HOUSE WELL - EARLY MORNING
Cold wind across open prairie. Still dark. A horse stamps in a pen. A rooster, early and tentative. Somewhere in the house behind her, a stove door clangs - her father is up too.
LIV - (she/her, 16), a fixer by nature who can repair anything in this world except the pacemaker slowly failing inside her chest.
Close: Metal on metal. A bolt being worked loose - a wrench turning, grip adjusting, turning again. The clank of a part being set on stone. Hands wiping on cloth.
A leather gasket being fitted - pressed into place, thumbed around its edge. The bolt threaded back in, tightened. She picks up the pump handle. Works it once. Twice. A dry wheeze. Nothing.
LIV
Come on.
She adjusts something. Metal scraping. Tries again - one pump, two, three - and on the fourth, a gurgle deep in the pipe. Water surges up and splashes into the trough.
LIV
(quiet, satisfied)
There you go.
She pumps a few more times. The water flows steady now - a clean, rhythmic gush with each stroke.
LIV (V.O.)
Mom used to say the stars were where we were headed. Dad still believes that. Me - I just want to make it to summer.
I was six when the world stopped. I don’t remember much of it - just the lights going out, everywhere, all at once. And Dad carrying me. We never saw who did it. We just know they left something behind.
She lets the pump handle rest. The water slows to a drip. In the silence: very faint, at the far edge of hearing, a low hum passes overhead. Distant. Alien. A probe on patrol. It crosses the sky and fades. The wind continues as if nothing happened.
LIV (V.O.)
The nannies. That’s what people call them. Machines - floating, silent, everywhere. They don’t bother you if you follow the rules. And the rules are simple: no electricity. No building anything that might make us more than what we are now.
She gathers her tools. Metal clinking against metal as they go back into a pouch or box. She stands.
LIV (V.O.)
Dad has always taken that personally.
She picks up the trough bucket, pours water into something - a canteen, maybe. The sound of water filling a container.
LIV (V.O.)
I fix what I can. The water pump. The bellows in the forge. The root cellar door.
People bring me things - a broken music box, a busted clock - and I make them work again. Dad taught me that. How to see what’s wrong with something and make it right.
A beat. The wind. She stoppers the canteen.
LIV (V.O.)
There’s a calendar on our kitchen wall with a red circle on it. We don’t talk about it, but we both know what it means. There’s a clock inside me, ticking down, and it’s the one thing in this world I’m not allowed to fix.
Silence. Just the wind, and the last drip of water from the pump spout.
She walks away. Boots on frozen ground, tools clinking softly at her side. The sound recedes.
The wind. The prairie. First light just touching the horizon.
SCENE 2 - "SPARSE BREAKFAST"
EXT. WOODSHED - EARLY MORNING
A bird, tentative. Then another. Dawn is just beginning. A rooster crows.
ROBERT - (he/him, 50s), Liv's father, a former NASA engineer who lost the stars when the world stopped and never quit reaching for them.
He sets a round of firewood on a stump. An axe bites into wood. A clean, splitting crack. The wood falls in two halves. He picks up another round, stands it on the stump.
Chop. Split. The rhythm of a man who has done this a thousand mornings.
He crosses to the chicken coop. A gate creaks. Hens cluck and shuffle, annoyed at the intrusion. His hand moves through straw.
ROBERT
(muttering)
One egg? Come on, ladies. We had a deal.
He closes the coop. Walks back toward the house. His boots on frozen ground.
INT. HOUSE DOWNSTAIRS - EARLY MORNING
A heavy wood door opens and closes. The stove door swings open on its hinge. Wood is loaded onto a thick bed of glowing embers - the soft hiss and crackle of the fire accepting it. The stove door clangs shut.
A pan is placed on the stove. The egg is cracked, then sputters in cooking oil.
Robert steps to the nearby wall. A page tears off a wall calendar - the sound of paper ripping cleanly.
ROBERT
(muttering, marking the date)
February first.
A pen scratches a line. Then silence. His breathing changes. Slower. Heavier.
ROBERT
(barely audible)
Three weeks.
The pen is still in his hand. He doesn't move. The house is silent except for his breathing - slower now, heavier, as if the number has physical weight.
Water boils - a sharp, insistent bubbling that pulls him back.
He pours it into two mugs. Tea.
He cuts a chunk of yellow cattail bread, then plates the egg and the bread onto a plate.
ROBERT
(calling out the door)
Breakfast!
INT. HOUSE DOWNSTAIRS - CONTINUOUS
The door opens. Cold air rushes in. Liv steps inside, sets her tools down with a clank. The door closes, muffling the wind.
LIV
(sniffing the air)
Smells good.
She takes the plate. A beat.
LIV
Not joining me?
ROBERT
Nah, had mine already.
She holds his eyes for a moment, but says nothing. She eats. Robert fusses with something in his hand.
LIV
Uh-oh.
ROBERT
What?
LIV
Your old NASA badge is out. You only stare at that thing when you’re thinking too hard.
He stows it back in his pocket.
ROBERT
Eat your breakfast.
LIV
(a beat)
Is this is the last of the cattail bread?
ROBERT
Yep.
She eats. He sips his tea. The stove crackles between them. The house is small - rough sawn wood, timber frame, warm enough in winter. The sounds are close, domestic.
Robert takes a hunting rifle from the wall. Opens the bolt, then loads four rounds into the small magazine.
LIV
If we had some venison to bring to Mira tonight, I bet she’d trade us some loaves.
He chambers the first round.
ROBERT
Mm hmm.
Robert crouches, opens a steel trunk. The hinges whine. Inside: various small electronics, relics of the old world. He carefully removes something.
LIV
We need the geiger counter today?
ROBERT
Hot zones are shifting. I want to update the maps while we're out there.
LIV
And if a nanny spots it?
ROBERT
Then I'll throw it, like last time.
LIV
We're running out of things to throw.
He reseals the trunk.
ROBERT
I'll be outside.
LIV
I’ll saddle the horses.
ROBERT
No. We’re walking today.
He crosses the room. The door opens. Cold air rushes in. He steps outside, and closes it.
LIV
Yes, sir...
She finishes with the plate.
She follows him outside.
SCENE 3 - "DEER HUNT"
EXT. FOREST TRAIL - MORNING
Footsteps on a forest floor. Leaves, twigs snapping softly underfoot. The canopy above filters the sound - birdsong, wind through high branches. Two sets of footsteps, one heavier than the other.
They walk in comfortable silence for a moment. Then Liv speaks.
LIV
You ever think about what Mom would say? About all this?
ROBERT
About what - the hunting?
LIV
About... everything. The way we live now.
ROBERT
(a beat)
She'd say we're doing fine. And then she'd reorganize the pantry and tell me I'm stacking the firewood wrong.
LIV
(smiling)
Yeah. She would.
They push through denser brush. Branches sweep past.
ROBERT
(quieter)
She'd hate it, Liv. The same way I do. She just would've been quieter about it.
The terrain changes. They're climbing. Their breathing deepens. The forest thins slightly, and the sound opens up - more wind.
EXT. RIDGE OVERLOOK - MORNING
They clear the rise. The wind catches them.
LIV
(stopping)
Dad. Look.
A beat. They stand still.
LIV
Sunrise over the lake. God, that's something.
ROBERT
Ten years. The world still does that every morning like nothing happened.
LIV
Maybe nothing did happen. To the world, I mean. Just to the people.
A beat.
The wind on the ridge. Robert doesn't answer. Not because he disagrees - because he doesn't have a response.
Robert pulls out a worn map. Paper crinkles as he unfolds it.
ROBERT
We're here. The old campground is south of us. And this -
(his finger taps the paper)
- this X is the hot zone we marked last month.
LIV
Which means the deer will have pushed east.
ROBERT
That's my thinking. We circle around, stay upwind.
He folds the map. They continue, bearing right, away from the marked zone.
EXT. DEEP FOREST - MORNING
The forest closes in again. Denser. Quieter. Robert's pace slows.
ROBERT
(whispering)
Hold up. See that? Broken branch, about chest height. Fresh.
LIV
(whispering)
And there - droppings. Still wet.
ROBERT
He's close. Maybe ten minutes ahead of us.
They move carefully now. Each footstep deliberate. Their breathing controlled.
LIV
(still whispering)
Can I ask you something?
ROBERT
If you do it quietly.
LIV
The nannies - why don’t they care about guns? We’ve never had a problem hunting out here but that’s a technology, right? So why aren’t we getting zapped?
ROBERT
They only care about electricity.
LIV
Isn’t a gun more of a threat than a light bulb? Or fire? Explosives? There are a million different ways to destroy something that have nothing to do with electricity.
ROBERT
The nannies aren’t concerned about destruction. They’re worried about building.
LIV
What do you mean?
ROBERT
Electricity builds your civilization. Computers, communication, medicine, industry - it all runs on current. You want to be a species that stays in one valley forever, fire and some weaponry is enough. You want to reach the next star? You need electricity.
LIV
And they don’t want us to.
ROBERT
Without progress, we can never be much of a threat. So they banned progress.
Robert stops. He's spotted something.
ROBERT
(barely audible)
There.
Through the foliage: movement. Something large, threading its way through scrub at the tree line.
ROBERT
Buck. Big one. Sixty yards, maybe seventy.
He takes a knee. The rifle stock settles against his shoulder. The scope clicks as he adjusts for windage.
ROBERT
(sighting)
He's turned toward us. White eyes - you see that? Milky. Radiation mutation from the old hot zone.
LIV
Can we still eat it?
ROBERT
Muscle should be ok. We'll leave the liver.
A breath. His finger slides to the trigger.
The buck bolts. A crash of brush and hooves, fleeing.
ROBERT
Fuck.
A beat. The deer is bounding away.
ROBERT
I mean - damn.
LIV
(a small laugh)
No, I think “fuck” is right.
ROBERT
Come on, let's keep after him.
They're up and moving, fast. Branches slap and grab at them. Footsteps pounding. Heavy breathing. They push hard through the forest. Running now.
Suddenly - the yellow box on Robert's jacket squawks to life. A sharp, angry ticking sound. Slow at first, then rising in tempo as they advance.
Robert freezes. His hand shoots to Liv's shoulder, stopping her dead.
ROBERT
(sharp)
Radiation.
They stand still. The geiger counter ticks, rapid and hostile.
ROBERT
Damn it. New zone.
They back up. The sound calms.
He unslings the rifle, pulls out the map. Paper crinkles.
ROBERT
We're... here. This wasn't hot last month.
LIV
That's three new ones this season. The zones are growing.
He marks a new X. Folds the map.
ROBERT
We go right. Circle wide.
They redirect. Moving fast again, but more cautiously now. The geiger counter quiets more as they pull away from the zone.
They break through the tree line into open space.
LIV
(breathing hard)
There - in the field!
The buck, running through tall grass. Open ground.
SCENE 4 - "THE NANNY"
EXT. OPEN FIELD - MORNING
Wind across an open field. Tall grass swaying. The buck's hooves, distant and receding.
ROBERT
OK, he's settled down. Ready to take your first deer?
LIV
Really?
ROBERT
Rite of passage.
She pauses.
LIV
Give me the rifle.
He unslings it, hands it to her.
ROBERT
Round is chambered, safety is on. Here, use this branch for a rifle rest.
Liv raises the rifle to her shoulder, rests the rifle on the branch.
LIV
I've got a shot.
ROBERT
Good, pull it tight into your shoulder... That's it. This is 6 point 5 Creedmore, so it's not a lot of recoil, but be ready for it.
LIV
OK. I'm good.
ROBERT
Wait for a side shot. Just behind the front shoulder.
LIV
I see him... I've got it.
ROBERT
Then exhale halfway, and squeeze. Let it surprise-
He sees something.
LIV
Dad?
ROBERT
Wait.
His breathing stops entirely.
A sound enters. Not from any direction. From everywhere. A low, resonant hum that vibrates in the chest more than the ears. It is not mechanical. It is not natural. It is something else.
ROBERT
(a whisper, barely a voice)
Don't move.
LIV
What -
ROBERT
Don't. Move.
The hum grows. Closer. Something is in the field with them.
LIV
A nanny.
The hum shifts. It tightens, focuses. A new quality - higher, sharper.
ROBERT
Shit! The geiger counter.
Robert grabs the geiger counter off his jacket.
The hum is closer now. Louder. Probing.
ROBERT
(hissing)
Get down. NOW. I'll throw it.
He throws the geiger counter. The throw - a grunt, the whistle of the box arcing through the air, landing in the grass thirty yards away. The ticking, now distant.
ROBERT
Down!
He hooks an arm around Liv and they dive. The impact of two bodies hitting earth. Grass closes over them.
They lie flat. Breathing hard. The grass hides everything. Only sound.
ROBERT
(whispering, right against her ear)
Don't lift your head. Don't speak. Just breathe.
A scanning whine. The probe has found the geiger counter.
Metallic clicks, rapid and irregular. Sensor clusters adjusting, rotating, twitching. An angry, disapproving tone.
Then: the energy lance. A sound like lightning channeled through a needle - a single, blinding crack of focused energy. The concussion thumps through the ground beneath them.
The geiger counter is gone. In its place: a hissing crater, earth still crackling.
Silence.
The hum holds. The probe is still there. Deciding.
Liv's heartbeat is audible now - not racing, exactly, but prominent. Thudding in her chest. We hear it as fear.
Five seconds of terrible quiet.
The probe's hum changes again. Not the aggressive scanning tone. Something subtler. Deeper. A resonance that holds and lingers. The second-pass tone.
Is it focused on Liv?
Robert stops breathing. His hand tightens on her arm.
Three seconds. The deepened tone sustains.
Liv starts to speak - just the first shape of a word, barely a breath - and Robert's hand clamps down on her arm.
She stops. The word dies.
Two more seconds. The tone holds.
Then it shifts away.
The hum returns to neutral. The probe resumes its patrol. The sound recedes - slowly, unhurried - until it is at the edge of hearing. Then gone.
The world returns in pieces. Wind. A bird, cautious. Grass rustling.
A long beat. Neither of them moves.
LIV
(shaking)
Is it gone?
Robert lifts his head. Looks around.
ROBERT
Yeah. It's gone.
They sit up. Grass and dirt fall from their clothes. Liv's breathing is ragged.
LIV
That was... I've never been that close.
ROBERT
Neither have I.
LIV
(quietly)
Did it... was it looking at me? At the end?
A beat. Too long.
ROBERT
No. It found the geiger counter. That's all it wanted.
LIV
You sure? It's like it could hear my pacemaker.
ROBERT
(too firm)
I'm sure. Come on. Let's head home.
EXT. FOREST TRAIL - LATE MORNING
Walking. Slower now. The energy drained from them. Boots on leaves. No conversation for a stretch.
LIV
That was our only geiger counter.
ROBERT
Probably the only one for a few hundred miles. We'll have to rely on the maps.
LIV
And hope we don't walk through a hot zone.
ROBERT
We'll be careful.
LIV
Super.
A pause. Then:
LIV
It isn’t fair. They don’t want us to progress? Fine. But at least let us keep the things that help us - how are we supposed to live like this?
ROBERT
We're meant to survive, not much more.
LIV
(Bolder, now that danger is past)
And some fucking aliens get to decide what that looks like? Who the hell do they think they are?
ROBERT
If I ever meet one, that'll be my first question.
Their footsteps continue. Home is getting closer.
SCENE 5 - "THE CALENDAR"
INT. ROBERT'S HOUSE - LATE AFTERNOON
The door opens. Cold air swirls in, then is shut out. Coats are hung on hooks. The stove crackles - still holding embers from the morning.
Robert crouches by the stove, adding wood. The fire catches and grows.
Liv sets the rifle down.
ROBERT
We’ll go back out tomorrow. Go down to the settlement when we’ve got something to trade.
LIV
Mira invited us tonight. They always do a big dinner for the first, we’re not missing it.
ROBERT
It’s just a day on the calendar. Tomorrow will be just the same.
LIV
We’re going.
(then)
And we both know that’s not true.
He doesn't answer. He's poking the fire.
LIV
Dad. We need to talk about it.
ROBERT
Not today, Liv.
LIV
Putting talking about it off until tomorrow doesn’t buy us more time.
He stands. Closes the stove door harder than necessary.
ROBERT
I'm aware.
LIV
You said the battery was rated for twelve years. I was four when they put it in. That makes me sixteen in -
ROBERT
I can do math.
LIV
- in weeks, Dad. Weeks.
A long pause. The fire crackles.
ROBERT
(quieter)
I know.
LIV
So what do we do? What's the plan?
ROBERT
The plan? Thanks to the nannies out there, "medical science" means pouring whiskey over a knife before cutting into a patient. I can't open you up. I can't replace the battery. I can't even test it without an electrical device that would bring a probe through our roof.
LIV
There has to be something -
ROBERT
Anything I might try would be as dangerous as letting the battery run out. I could kill you trying to save you.
LIV
And doing nothing?
ROBERT
(exploding)
I DON'T KNOW!
The words ring in the small house. The fire pops. Somewhere outside, a chicken startles and clucks.
A beat. Robert's breathing is ragged.
ROBERT
(hoarse)
I'm sorry. I -
LIV
It's ok.
ROBERT
It's not ok. None of this is ok.
The door opens. The cold air again. The door shuts behind him.
Liv stands alone in the house. The stove crackles.
Her footsteps. Slow. She stops. We hear her breathing, close - and behind it, the creaking of the house in the wind.
SCENE 6 - "TRAJECTORY"
EXT. ROBERT'S YARD - NIGHT
An outdoor fire. Larger than the stove - open, breathing, popping with resin. Crickets. A clear, cold night. The vast open acoustic of sky above.
A door opens. Footsteps on frozen ground. Liv crosses to where Robert sits by the fire.
She doesn't say anything at first. She sits beside him. The fire crackles between them and the silence.
A long beat. Then:
LIV
You’re doing it again. Staring at your old badge.
(beat)
You miss it.
ROBERT
(exhaling)
Yeah. I do.
He pokes the fire. Embers scatter upward.
ROBERT
We had it so easy, Liv.
LIV
(gently teasing, she's heard this before)
"Lights at the flip of a switch. Hot food without a fire."
ROBERT
(a small laugh)
I know. I do go on.
LIV
A little.
ROBERT
But it wasn't just the comforts. That's what people don't understand. It wasn't about - hot showers or television or any of that. It was the direction.
LIV
Direction?
ROBERT
Trajectory. We were going somewhere, Liv. Every generation moved the line a little further. Figured out one more thing. Cured one more disease. Reached one more place we'd never been.
He looks up. The fire reflects off nothing - just cold, clear sky.
ROBERT
The Arks were supposed to be the next step. Not just visiting other planets, or sending robots. Living there. Setting down roots on another world and saying - we belong here too.
LIV
And then...
ROBERT
And then something looked back and said: "No. You don't."
The fire settles. A log shifts. Sparks.
ROBERT
They didn't just kill billions of people. That's - that's a horror, and I'll never make peace with it. But what eats at me, what I lie awake thinking about, is that they cancelled the future. They looked at everything humanity was about to become, and they decided we didn't get to become that.
LIV
But Dad - the world was also a mess, right? Before? Wars. Pollution. Nuclear bombs. People starving while other people threw food away.
ROBERT
All true.
LIV
So maybe the aliens saw all that and thought -
ROBERT
That we weren't ready? Maybe. But being imperfect and being hopeless aren't the same thing. We were moving, Liv. Stumbling, stupid, dangerous - but moving. You don't have to be where you're going. You just have to be heading there. That's what trajectory means.
A beat.
ROBERT
And now we're standing still. Worse than still - we're sliding backward. And that... paralysis, with the problems we still have? That's how a species dies. Not in a flash. In a slow forgetting.
A beat. The fire. Robert staring into it.
LIV
(quiet)
Mom used to say something. When you'd get down.
"The river keeps flowing." Remember? She'd say that whenever things got really bad.
"The river keeps flowing, Robert."
A beat.
ROBERT
(barely audible)
Yeah. I remember.
Down in the valley, distant gunshots ring out. Drunken yelling follows - Mira's community, someone having a loud night.
LIV
(lightly)
At least Mira's crew is having fun.
Robert smiles weakly. Pokes the fire.
Liv stands. Extends her hand.
LIV
Come on, grumpy. We’d better get down there.
ROBERT
I'm not hungry.
LIV
I am. And I'm tired of cattail bread.
He doesn't move.
Then he takes her hand and lets himself be pulled to his feet.
ROBERT
This changes nothing. I'm still grumpy.
LIV
Noted.
SCENE 7 - "BELLE CREEK"
EXT. MIRA'S SETTLEMENT, BELLE CREEK, MONTANA - EVENING
The soundscape opens. It is loud, layered, alive. A blacksmith's hammer rings against an anvil - steady, purposeful. Goats bleat.
Children chase each other between structures, their laughter tangling with the clatter of wooden bowls being stacked.
A hand-cranked grain mill turns with a rhythmic whir. Women call instructions across cook fires. Men argue - not fighting, just loud.
Somewhere, a fiddle saws through a melody that keeps losing its way and starting over.
This is not a quiet place. It is not an efficient place. It is a human place.
LIV
(taking it in)
God. It's so... much. More than the last time we were here.
ROBERT
A hundred and twenty people, last I heard.
A voice calls out to them from across the clearing.
MIRA - (she/her, 40s), the founder and leader of Belle Creek — she built something that works by hard work and tough rules, and she'll burn anything that threatens it.
MIRA
Robert! You actually came.
Her footsteps approach - confident, unhurried. She clasps Liv's hands first.
LIV
Hi, Mira.
MIRA
Liv. I'm glad. Come, join us. Your father keeping you fed?
LIV
One egg at a time.
MIRA
(a small laugh)
Well, you're welcome at our table any evening. Both of you.
ROBERT
We appreciate that.
MIRA
I mean it. Community matters, Robert. Especially now. Come on. We slaughtered a few goats this morning - there's plenty.
She leads them through the settlement. The sounds press in from every side - footsteps on packed earth, a dog barking, someone sawing wood nearby. Mira walks through all of it like water through rock.
A woman intercepts them, a toddler crying on her hip.
WOMAN
Mira - Jonah's fever still hasn't broken.
MIRA
(without slowing)
Did you try the willow bark tea?
WOMAN
He won't keep it down.
MIRA
Crush it into honey. Small doses, every hour. If he's not better by morning, come find me.
WOMAN
Ok.
The woman nods and peels away.
Ahead, two women are arguing - loud, sharp, overlapping.
WOMAN 2
- said I could use the south garden through February, and now you're -
WOMAN 3
I said no such thing, and you know it -
Mira stops. The two women notice her and go quiet.
MIRA
Elena. Whose seeds are in the ground right now?
WOMAN 3
(reluctantly)
Hers.
MIRA
Then it's her garden through harvest. After that, you two work it out or I'll give it to someone who doesn't make me listen to this.
Both women mutter agreement. Mira is already walking again.
She is everywhere here. Not as a tyrant. As a center of gravity.
They reach a long table beneath an open-sided timber shelter. People crowd the benches - passing bread, pouring water, talking over each other.
MIRA
Come, sit. There's two chairs over there, by Ingrid.
LIV
That roasted goat smells amazing!
MIRA
Lena's recipe. She won't tell anyone. We've tried bribery, threats - nothing works.
A woman down the table laughs and waves them off.
LIV
And flatbread, and carrots?
(mouth full)
This is incredible.
MIRA
And mead, for Robert, anyway.
She pours a mug, hands it to him.
ROBERT
Oh... It's a very fine meal. Thank you, Mira. It's really generous of you.
A girl close to Liv's age leans over.
SETTLEMENT GIRL
You're Robert's daughter? From up the hill?
LIV
That's me.
SETTLEMENT GIRL
You should come down more often. It gets boring talking to the same people every night.
LIV
(a real smile)
I just might.
Robert sees that smile. Something crosses his face - not jealousy, but recognition. This is what she's missing. This is what living alone on that hill costs her.
Mira notices him watching.
MIRA
(quietly, to Robert)
You and she could stay, you know. If things ever got difficult. There's a place for you here.
ROBERT
(after a beat)
I appreciate that.
MIRA
I mean it. Whatever else you and I disagree on.
That sits between them.
A sound enters at the edge of hearing. The hum. Low, resonant, unmistakable. A probe, approaching from the east.
Robert's whole body tightens. His hand grips the edge of the table.
LIV
(panicked)
Dad??
The hum grows. It passes over the tree line and into the settlement. Close. The sound of rotating sensor clusters - metallic clicks, shifting - fills the air above them.
ROBERT
Just be still, honey.
The community notices. Conversations lower - not to silence, but to a hush. A mother pulls her child onto her lap. A man at the end of the table sets his cup down and waits. The blacksmith pauses mid-swing, holds the hammer at his side.
No one runs. No one hides. They just hold still.
LIV
Another one?!
The probe drifts through the village. Its scanning hum vibrates in their chests.
Robert is rigid. His breath is shallow. The memory of the field - Liv beside him in the grass - is written in every locked muscle.
ROBERT
Mira...
MIRA
Samuel, pass me those potatoes, would you?
She takes the passed dish, and ladles some food from it onto her plate.
MIRA
Thanks.
The probe clears the shelter. Its hum recedes toward the western ridge. The sensor clicks diminish.
The blacksmith resumes his rhythm. Conversations resurface, one by one, like birds after a storm.
MIRA
(to Robert, evenly)
Robert, you can release that death grip on the table now.
Robert releases his grip. He exhales.
ROBERT
How do you do that?
MIRA
Do what?
ROBERT
Sit there like that. Not even flinch.
MIRA
Practice. And the understanding that it has no reason to harm us.
ROBERT
They’ve never needed a reason. Not to derail humanity and not to keep us from ever getting our future back. They’re predator and we’re prey.
MIRA
That's where you're wrong. They're the most rational things on this planet. They follow rules. If you follow the same rules, they're furniture.
ROBERT
Furniture.
MIRA
Well, furniture that can kill you.
A commotion at the edge of the settlement. Two of Mira's riders come up the main path, a third figure between them. Not restrained exactly - but steered. A young man, early twenties. He walks with his chin up, but his hands are shaking.
HARLAN - (he/him, 60s), a dry, laconic horseman with a dog at his heel and a harmonica in his pocket — says less than anyone and notices more.
The click of claws on packed earth - a dog, close at his heel.
HARLAN
Mira.
Keeper settles onto the ground beside him. A quiet exhale through his nose, then still.
She turns. Her expression doesn't change, but something behind her eyes sets.
MIRA
What is it?
HARLAN
Found this in Callum's workshop. Under the floorboards.
The rider holds something out. Small, wrapped in oilcloth. Mira takes it, unwraps it. The clink of small components - metal and wire.
MIRA
(examining it)
Callum.
CALLUM - (he/him, early 20s), a young tinkerer who built the wrong thing at the wrong time.
CALLUM
It's not what it looks like.
MIRA
It's a wire coil and a magnetic core. Wound copper, hand-stripped wire, and a salvaged magnet. It's exactly what it looks like. A crude generator.
CALLUM
I wasn't going to power it. I was just studying it. The principles. It's not even -
MIRA
We literally just had a nanny pass through.
CALLUM
I know.
MIRA
Where does the study end, Callum?
He doesn't answer.
MIRA
Where does it end? You study the coil. Then you spin it. Then you feel that first tiny spark and you think - just a little more. You build a bigger version. And then the sky opens and everyone within a quarter mile learns the cost of your curiosity.
CALLUM
(voice breaking)
My mother is sick, Mira. You know that. I've read about a procedure - but it needs-
MIRA
I know what she needs.
That softens her. For a moment, the audience hears it - the weight. She knows. She's not indifferent.
MIRA
I lost people because someone thought a week of electricity was worth the risk. They were right that it was beautiful. They were wrong that it was safe. I won't let you make that choice for the people sleeping in those houses tonight.
She wraps the device back in its cloth. Hands it to her rider.
MIRA
Take it to the forge. Melt it down.
No one speaks. The wind moves through the settlement.
Somewhere, a child laughs - oblivious. The moment holds.
CALLUM
Mira-
MIRA
(quieter now, which is worse)
This is the first time, Callum. And I know what drove you to it. So we talk. You understand what happens if there's a second time?
He stares at her.
MIRA
Say it.
CALLUM
There won't be a second time.
MIRA
No. There won't. Your mother needs you here.
She holds his eyes. Then she turns back to the table. Sits. Picks up her cup. Somewhere across the settlement, the forge bellows hiss to life.
MIRA
Lena - is there more of that goat?
The community exhales. The dinner resumes. The fiddle starts up again. Callum is walked away by the riders, his head lower now.
The evening winds down. People drift from the table. Children are carried to bed.
SCENE 8 - "AFTER DINNER"
EXT. PATH FROM MIRA'S SETTLEMENT - NIGHT
Footsteps uphill. Slower than the walk down.
A long silence.
LIV
Cold night.
ROBERT
No cloud cover. Makes for a great view of the Milky Way though.
They walk in silence.
LIV
She's not wrong. About the risk.
ROBERT
She's not wrong about the risk. She's wrong about the response.
LIV
That boy wanted to help his mother.
ROBERT
I know.
LIV
And she melted it down.
ROBERT
I know.
Their footsteps on cold ground.
LIV
Would she do that to you?
Robert doesn't answer for a long time.
ROBERT
She wouldn't need to melt anything of mine. She'd skip straight to the last warning.
LIV
(quiet)
That's not funny.
ROBERT
It's not a joke.
They walk. The settlement sounds fade behind them.
LIV
It was nice, though. Being around people.
ROBERT
Yeah. It was.
SCENE 9 - "MIRA'S MUSING"
EXT. MIRA'S SETTLEMENT, BELLE CREEK, MONTANA - LATE NIGHT
The community has gone quiet. The fiddle is done. The last voices have faded into houses.
A fire burns low - the soft collapse of embers settling, an occasional pop.
A gentle clatter of dishes.
MIRA
Katherine, go to sleep. The last of the dishes can wait.
KATHERINE - (she/her, 30s), one of Mira's people — the last one still cleaning up after everyone else has gone to bed.
KATHERINE
You know what? Not going to fight you on that. See you tomorrow, Mira.
MIRA
'Night
A long silence. Just footsteps and fire.
CALLOWAY - (he/him, 30s), Mira's quiet right hand — equally comfortable with a rifle or a bow, and the kind of stillness that makes you wonder what he's holding back.
CALLOWAY
Was a good night.
MIRA
Calloway. I wondered where you were hiding. Yeah. Everyone needed that.
CALLOWAY
You've been quiet since they left.
MIRA
I'm always quiet.
CALLOWAY
You're quiet like you're chewing on something.
Mira doesn't answer right away. A goat shifts in its pen. A dog lifts his head - claws scraping on packed earth - then settles back down.
MIRA
Did you see his face? During the Callum business?
CALLOWAY
Robert's?
MIRA
He wasn't watching Callum. He was watching me. Measuring what I'd do.
CALLOWAY
And?
MIRA
And I think he's planning something. The way he talked tonight - derailing humanity's future. And the way he held that girl during the probe.
The fire crackles.
Someone had too much to drink, and is being helped home.
SETTLEMENT DRUNK
I'm fine... Really...
KATHERINE
Sure you are, Joseph. Come on, now...
SETTLEMENT DRUNK
You are such a good friend...
CALLOWAY
Robert's one man on a hill with a teenager and a revolver. What's he going to do?
MIRA
I don't know. That's what bothers me. He wasn't born for this world, not like you and I were.
CALLOWAY
You think he really wants the old world back again?
MIRA
He wouldn't be the only one.
A beat.
MIRA
Callum built that coil for his mother. After I ordered it melted, you know what spooked me? The look on every face at that table. Half of them were afraid. The other half were thinking - if Callum almost got away with it, maybe I could too.
CALLOWAY
That's always been true. You can't stop people from wanting.
MIRA
No. But I can stop one man from giving them a reason to try.
The wind picks up. Somewhere far off, a coyote.
MIRA
That girl is dying.
CALLOWAY
What?
MIRA
That scar. You've seen it. She's hiding something underneath, from the nannies. Something electrical.
CALLOWAY
Shit. A pacemaker?
MIRA
Installed before the invasion, when she was small. Batteries don't last forever and the way he’s been the last few times we’ve seen him...they’re running out of time.
CALLOWAY
You think he’ll do something desperate.
MIRA
Desperate, and big. Putting those together is how people end up in the ground.
CALLOWAY
One Eighteen.
MIRA
One Eighteen...
CALLOWAY
You think he has a plan?
MIRA
Not yet. But I bet he knows he’s not going to find the answer he needs here. And if they leave this valley alone, one of two things happens. Either he dies out there and that girl dies with him. Or he finds what he's looking for, and he brings it back, and everything we've built here burns.
CALLOWAY
So we stop him.
A long pause.
MIRA
No.
CALLOWAY
No?
MIRA
If I stop him and the girl dies, I'm the woman who killed a child to keep the peace. Every mother in this settlement will look at me and see that. Every father. That's poison.
The thing that holds this place together isn't the water well or the crops. It's the belief that what I do, I do for their children. The moment I sacrifice someone else's...
She trails off. The fire pops.
CALLOWAY
So what, then?
MIRA
I go with him.
The fire settles. An ember falls. The settlement is asleep around them - all those houses, all those people, breathing in the dark. Everything she built.
CALLOWAY
You - what?
MIRA
He's not a kid with a generator coil. He's a NASA engineer with a dying daughter. If he's going to find something dangerous, I need to be standing next to it when he does. Not here, waiting for the consequences to ride home.
CALLOWAY
Mira, you can't just leave. You're-
MIRA
What? Irreplaceable? Then I've built this place wrong. Elena can manage the council. Thomas runs the fields. The mill runs fine with Sarah. You handle security. I've spent ten years making sure this community is built to last. It can survive without me for a few weeks.
CALLOWAY
And if it can't?
MIRA
Then it was never going to last anyway.
That sits. Calloway absorbs it.
The fire pops. When she speaks again, her voice is quieter.
MIRA
I owe Eleanor that much.
CALLOWAY
I'm coming with you.
MIRA
Damn right you are. And all your guns. I don’t think Robert appreciates how desperate people can be out there. Liv sure as hell doesn’t.
CALLOWAY
Right.
MIRA
Bring Harlan too. And Keeper. So be ready to go - could be any day now.
CALLOWAY
He won't like it.
MIRA
Doesn't have to. He has to be good on a horse and keep his mouth shut. Both of which are his finest qualities.
A beat. Almost a laugh between them. Almost.
MIRA
Come on, walk me home.
They stand and make their way outside.
SCENE 10 - "THE ARK PAPERS"
INT. ROBERT'S HOUSE - NIGHT
The door opens. Cold air, then warmth - the stove still holds embers. They shed their coats. Liv lights a candle, while Robert loads wood into the stove.
ROBERT
I'll get the fire back up. Nice thing about a small home, it heats up quickly.
LIV
Yes, please. Then, I want you to show me the Arks. Take your mind off things.
He keeps loading firewood.
LIV
You know you want to...
She's teasing him now, and they both know it's working.
LIV
What was that artificial brain thing called? The one you worked on? An... A.Y.?
ROBERT
(flat)
You're hilarious.
LIV
Smart people think so.
He closes the stove.
She pulls a heavy pile of thick binders from a shelf and drops them onto the table.
LIV
Come on. This stuff has gathered dust long enough.
The thud carries weight. These are substantial documents.
A binder is opened. The spine cracks. Pages turn - stiff, old, official.
He comes over, settles into a chair.
ROBERT
OK, I surrender. God... It's like looking into another world.
LIV
What's this one?
ROBERT
NASA tech documents. Exoplanet Sustainability Vehicle program.
LIV
Oh. Sure. That sounds like a real thing that exists.
Pages turn faster. Robert's voice changes - lighter, younger, the voice of a man reconnecting with something he loved.
ROBERT
Here. Here's the Ark specs. Seventy feet long, hovering platform design. Eight-person crew capacity.
LIV
Hovering? Like, flying?
ROBERT
More like floating. A repulsion field. You could park one in an alien swamp and it would just - sit there, six feet off the ground. Clean. Stable.
LIV
That's insane.
ROBERT
That was the easy part. Look - living quarters here. Kitchen. Hydroponics for growing food. Water reclamation. A full science lab.
He turns a page and stops. His breathing catches.
LIV
What?
ROBERT
(reading slowly)
Medical bay. Here. See this?
His finger taps the page.
ROBERT
The auto-doc unit. The Ark's AI would run it. Automated surgical system. Capable of most any procedure. Organ repair, implant replacement, microsurgery...
A long silence. The fire crackles in the stove.
Robert's breathing changes - shorter, tighter. He starts to say something. Doesn't.
LIV
Well. That'd be pretty damn handy right now.
ROBERT
(barely audible)
Yeah.
A beat. Neither looks at the other.
LIV
How many did they build?
ROBERT
Two prototypes. One launched - made it off-planet before the invasion. The other stayed on Earth. In some underground lab, somewhere.
LIV
And you don't know where.
ROBERT
I helped design the AI. But it was all remote - through the internet. Everything was tightly compartmentalized. My team and I wrote code. We never saw the actual vehicle. Never visited the facility.
LIV
That's so weird.
ROBERT
The internet was a strange beast.
LIV
And this artificial brain - you said it was... alive?
ROBERT
Not alive, the way we are. It’s a machine, built by people. But yeah, you could talk with it, and you’d feel like it was a person.
LIV
Crazy.
Liv gets up and pulls a box from the shelf.
LIV
What about this box? I’ve never seen you go through it.
ROBERT
Some of your mom’s old papers. I-
(softer)
Every time I think about seeing even just her handwriting again...
LIV
Yeah.
She brings the box over.
LIV
What’s in it?
ROBERT
Just old financial records I think.
She pushes it toward him.
LIV
Might cheer you up. I know it’s hard, but maybe it’ll actually be kind of nice too.
ROBERT
(sighs)
He opens it. Shuffles through papers.
ROBERT
Yep. Expense reports. Purchase orders. This is all accounting papers from the program.
LIV
She worked with you, right?
ROBERT
In the financial office. She helped control how the money got spent. Every dollar accounted for.
He's rifling through pages now. The sound of paper on paper - rapid, searching.
ROBERT
(distracted)
Your mother was meticulous. Every receipt, every transfer...
He trails off. A page has caught his attention.
LIV
Feeling better?
No answer. He's reading.
LIV
Dad?
ROBERT
(distant)
Hmm? Yeah. Yeah, you were right - this is nice.
LIV
Good.
She kisses his cheek.
LIV
Enjoy. I'm going to get some sleep.
ROBERT
(absorbed, not looking up)
OK, honey. Sleep well.
Her footsteps go up the stairs. A door closes above.
The fire crackles. A candle flame flickers. Robert turns pages.
Time passes. The fire settles. A coyote calls out, and is answered.
Paper turning. Paper turning. Paper turning.
SCENE 11 - "YOUR MOTHER SHOWED ME"
INT. ROBERT'S HOUSE - DAWN
First light. The rooster. Footsteps on the stairs. Liv descends, still half-asleep.
LIV
(yawning)
Damn, it's freezing in here. Dad? Did you stay up all -
She stops. He is exactly where she left him.
LIV
Are you ok?
He turns in his chair to face her.
ROBERT
I'm ok.
A beat.
LIV
What's...
ROBERT
And you will be too.
Silence. Liv doesn't move.
LIV
(carefully)
You found it. The Ark?
ROBERT
Your mother showed me.
Liv freezes.
The moment drags out.
LIV
Explain that, please.
A beat.
LIV
What do you mean?
ROBERT
(standing, gathering papers)
Even classified facilities leave paper trails, Liv. Equipment gets purchased. Construction materials get shipped. And all of that generates expense reports that have to be filed, approved, and mailed somewhere.
LIV
Mailed where?
ROBERT
That's the question I spent all night answering. Your mother tracked every dollar. Vendor payments, shipping receipts, construction invoices - all going to the same cluster of addresses. All within the same half-mile radius.
He turns to her.
ROBERT
Twenty miles north of Seattle, Washington. A decommissioned military facility. The invoices show a hundred and thirty feet of underground excavation, custom environmental shielding, and equipment transfers that match the Ark's component list exactly.
LIV
(sitting down)
It's really there.
ROBERT
It's there.
LIV
At least - it was there. Ten years ago. We have no idea if it survived the invasion.
ROBERT
A hundred and thirty feet underground, inside military-grade shielding. The Arks had their own nuclear power core. If anything survived, it did.
LIV
Seattle is a thousand miles away, Dad.
He looks at her. Then at the calendar. The red circle.
ROBERT
Then we'd better not waste the morning.
LIV
What - right now?
ROBERT
How many days are on that calendar, Liv?
She looks at it. She doesn't answer.
ROBERT
Gear up, honey. We've got a long way to go.
A beat. Then Liv stands.
LIV
Meet you outside in ten minutes.
SCENE 12 - "LEAVING HOME"
EXT. ROBERT'S YARD - EARLY MORNING
Horses stamping. Leather cinching. Saddlebags being secured - the soft thump of supplies settling. Buckles clicking.
Robert leads one horse to where another is already loaded. His movements are quick, purposeful.
A door opens and closes. Liv crosses the yard, a full backpack over one shoulder, the rifle in her other hand.
LIV
Left a note for James. He'll feed the chickens.
ROBERT
Good.
She throws the pack onto the horse, secures it. The rifle slides into a leather holster with a whisper. She swings up into the saddle.
Robert checks the cinch one more time. Mounts.
They sit there for a moment. Looking at the house. The yard. The chickens, oblivious.
LIV
You think we'll see this place again?
ROBERT
I think your kids are going to grow up here.
LIV
(quiet)
That's a lot of pressure on a thousand-mile horse ride.
ROBERT
One mile at a time. Let's get those supplies.
LIV
We should be quick. In and out.
ROBERT
We need dried meat, oats, grain, salt, and something for the horses.
LIV
And if Mira asks where we're going?
ROBERT
We're going hunting. Long trip. Heard there's elk north of the basin.
LIV
You're a terrible liar.
ROBERT
Then don't let me do the talking.
SCENE 13 - "TO MARKET"
EXT. MIRA'S SETTLEMENT - MARKET - EARLY MORNING
The market is already humming. Voices barter and overlap.
SETTLEMENT MAN
Got my shovel fixed yet?
BLACKSMITH
Yeah, right over there.
SETTLEMENT MAN 2
Oh man, my head...
Dried meats slap onto wooden counters.
Grain pours into sacks. A hand scale clanks. Chickens complain from a crate.
ROBERT
Good morning. We need venison. Ten pounds. Three of pemmican. Two of salt. Sack of flour, and a sack of oats. What'll it cost me?
VENDOR
What've you got?
Robert sets something down. A metallic clink.
VENDOR
Three.
Another two clinks on the countertop.
VENDOR
Done.
LIV
That's most of it. We still need more blankets -
She stops talking. From ahead, at the far end of the market row, comes the sound of horses approaching.
Three of them, shifting their weight, approaching, leather creaking under full loads. And beside them, the quick padding of a dog's paws on hard ground - Keeper, trotting at the horses' flank.
LIV
(Too brightly, surprised)
Oh, hi, Mira!
MIRA
Good morning, Liv. Going somewhere?
LIV
Um...hunting. You?
MIRA
Well, we saw you coming down the ridge - you’re packed pretty heavy for a hunting trip.
(beat)
Where are you going?
Robert says nothing.
MIRA
Robert. Where are you taking her?
ROBERT
Somewhere we need to be.
MIRA
That's not an answer.
ROBERT
It's the only one I've got.
MIRA
I’d expected you to leave one of these days. Can’t say I knew it was going to be today, though. How much time do you have left?
LIV
Mira, we -
MIRA
Liv. I know about the pacemaker. I've known for a while.
A beat. Liv's breathing catches.
LIV
What...?
MIRA
That scar. The way you touch your chest when you think no one's watching. Guessing you don't have much more time. I'm so sorry, darlin.
ROBERT
That's... OK - I admit, I'm impressed.
MIRA
Robert. Listen to me. Good men with impossible plans get people killed. I have watched it happen. I have buried the proof.
ROBERT
And scared women with good intentions let people die slow. I've watched that too.
MIRA
(absorbing the blow)
There was a man in the eastern settlements. Found a generator and a cache of old batteries. Was going to power an old radio tower- contact other survivors across three states. Coordinate, rebuild. A good, hopeful plan...
The nannies response is always proportional to what they detect. They destroyed everything within half a mile. Not combatants, Robert. Families.
ROBERT
And that's a tragedy. But it's not a reason to stop.
MIRA
The man survived. Lived with it for a year. Then he walked straight into a hot zone and didn't come back.
That lands. The horses breathe.
MIRA
Hope is the most dangerous thing in this world. More dangerous than the nannies. Because hope makes you believe the rules don't apply to you.
ROBERT
Their rules shouldn't apply to any of us, Mira. That's the whole goddamned point.
A long silence. The blacksmith's hammer starts up in the distance - Mira's community, beginning its day.
LIV
(quiet)
How long have you known?
MIRA
Long enough.
ROBERT
Then you know I'm not asking permission.
MIRA
I'm not offering any. I'm telling you what's happening. You're riding out to find something. Something technological. Something you believe will save your daughter. And if it still exists, after ten years of those things purging the land? Then it's the most dangerous object on this continent.
ROBERT
It's not a weapon. It's a medical facility.
CALLOWAY
Ah shit.
MIRA
(incensed)
A medical... As if that makes any fucking difference?
ROBERT
So what - you're going to stop me?
He cocks the hammer on his handgun.
The market goes quiet. Not all at once - a vendor stops mid-sentence. A sack of grain settles to the counter. The chickens in their crate are the last sound to die.
Two seconds. Just horses breathing and the distant hammer of the forge.
HARLAN
You don't want things to go that way.
MIRA
Robert, if I wanted to stop you, I'd have taken your horses in the night.
ROBERT
(a beat)
Then... No.
Absolutely not.
MIRA
It's not a request.
ROBERT
I'm not riding with someone who wants to destroy the thing I'm looking for.
MIRA
And I'm not sitting here for a month wondering what you'll drag back to my valley. So one of us adjusts.
LIV
Dad.
ROBERT
Liv, stay out of this.
LIV
No. Listen. She's got three horses packed with gear. And five guns is a lot better than two. 'Always trust the math', right?
A long beat. Robert's breathing. The horses shifting. The blacksmith's hammer, steady in the distance.
ROBERT
You're getting more like your mother every day.
LIV
Seattle is a thousand miles away.
ROBERT
It is.
LIV
Through territory we've never seen.
ROBERT
Yes.
LIV
And God knows what we'll run into along the way.
ROBERT
All manner of shit, and most of it dangerous.
LIV
OK, then.
A beat.
ROBERT
OK, then.
MIRA
Alright, good. I always like a consensus. Let's get moving. Calloway, scout a bit ahead of us. No surprises.
CALLOWAY
Sure, Mira.
He guides his horse out in front, and moves ahead quickly.
MIRA
Harlan, grab some more blankets, then catch up with us.
HARLAN
You got it.
He whistles to Keeper.
HARLAN
Let's go, boy.
MIRA
(Yelling)
And some whiskey!
(Softer)
Think we'll need it.
The horses pick up the pace, leaving the village behind. Among the hoofbeats, the lighter, quicker rhythm of Keeper's paws on the dirt trail, keeping pace.
The sounds of civilization fade. Replacing by wind, hooves on dirt.
LIV (V.O.)
Dad says trajectory is what matters. That humanity's worth is measured by where it's heading, not where it's been. Mira says restraint. That the thing that proves we deserve a future is the wisdom to wait for one.
The horses continue.
LIV (V.O.)
I don't know which of them is right. Maybe neither. Maybe both. All I know is there's a road in front of us we've never traveled, and a clock inside me that doesn't care about philosophy.
A beat.
LIV (V.O.)
Mom would've said something smart right now. Something about how the answer is always simpler than the argument. I wish I'd gotten to know her long enough to learn how she did that.
The horses walk. The wind moves through the trees.
The low hum of a nanny in the distance.
Liv takes a breath.
Her heartbeat is audible now, growing louder.
LIV
(Uncomfortable)
Hmm
And then - her hand goes to her chest. A quick, involuntary movement. Her breathing hitches. Not pain. Something different.
Her heartbeat falters. One beat lands wrong. A gap where there shouldn't be one. Then it catches, resumes. Unsteady for a moment. Then regular again.
She breathes through it. The horses keep walking. The wind doesn't change. Nothing in the world acknowledges what just happened inside her chest.
Five seconds. Just hooves on earth. Breathing. The creak of leather.
LIV (V.O.)
I think the answer is somewhere ahead of us. On a road we've never traveled, in a place we've never seen, inside a machine my father helped build and has never touched.
The probe hum lingers. Steady. Patient.
LIV (V.O.)
I just hope we get there before the clock runs out.
The hum holds for three seconds - alone, separated from everything else.
Then silence.
END OF EPISODE ONE
Podcasts we love
Check out these other fine podcasts recommended by us, not an algorithm.
Tumanbay
iHeartPodcasts
Passenger List
Passenger List and Radiotopia
Out of Place
Midnight Disease Productions LLC
The Silt Verses
Eskew Productions Ltd
Midnight Burger
Business Goose Media
The Truth
The Truth
DERELICT
Night Rocket Productions
Fall of Civilizations Podcast
Fall of Civilizations Podcast