SETTING: A lone traveler walks the land, late middle-aged, scar over his face, goggles, and a baseball

cap. A heavy overcoat covers the majority of the rest of his body. The sun, small in the sky, still
scorches the earth with piercing white heat. Rust-red dunes of sand billow with the slightest of wind
across a dry, dry desert.

In dramatic lettering: MARS, 5381 CE

The traveler sees a village-sized collection of buildings in the distance. He looks up at the sky –
nothing. Sighing visibly, he presses forward.

Nighttime. We can see his breath in the frigid air. As he walks past the buildings on the outskirts of this
cluster, he is interrupted by a voice in the night:

VOICE: Homer?

HOMER looks up. The figure emerging from the shadows is a well-groomed man wearing a suit. He
has a surprised/concerned expression on his face.

HOMER: P-primus?

PRIMUS: Homer! It really is you!

Cut to PRIMUS and HOMER sitting at a dining table, with food in front of them, partially eaten.

PRIMUS: It’s been too long, old friend.

HOMER: It has indeed. How long have I been running?

PRIMUS: ...it’s been twenty-six years.

HOMER: Only twenty-six years? I’ve outdone myself.

PRIMUS: Haha, it might even be a Martian record. I don’t think anyone at the base is expecting you
for at least another year.

HOMER, looking around: Oh, yeah? So this is the base, then?

PRIMUS: No, it’s still about a day away. This is just a town.

HOMER: Ah. (He rises to leave.) I should be on my way, then. If I’m so close.

PRIMUS, hurrying up: Ah, no, no! Stay the night, I insist! On me. There’s no way you’ll be caught at
this rate, anyway.

HOMER: Well… (shot of PRIMUS’s face) … I guess I could stay the night.

The two walk down a hallway.

PRIMUS: Has the journey been hard?

HOMER: Yeah. I mean, I knew what I was signing up for. But… twenty-six years. It gets lonely.

PRIMUS: I can’t say I can relate. I don’t think anyone could, who hasn’t run themselves.

HOMER: What about you? What’ve you been up to these days?

PRIMUS: Well, I always loved sports, even in school – you remember? I started the year you were
graduating.

HOMER: Of course, man, how could I forget?

PRIMUS: Yeah, well, you were a huge inspiration to me. I… took a page from your book.

HOMER: No way?

PRIMUS: Yeah. Funny how things work out like that, huh?

HOMER: What do you play?

They stop at a window, looking up. A streak of light flies across the night sky.

HOMER: There it is, then.

PRIMUS: Twenty-six years in the sky. But at this point, it’ll be a couple months before it even hits the
ground.

HOMER: Maybe a year to find it.

They turn, and PRIMUS shows HOMER the door. Homer walks in.

PRIMUS: I think it’s a record. It’s gotta be, right? Twenty-six years? How does it feel?

HOMER: Pretty good! I mean, it really hasn’t sunk in yet.

PRIMUS, putting a bottle of wine on a coffee table in the room: Well, don’t stay up too late
celebrating. We’ll party hard tomorrow, eh?

HOMER: Yeah.

As PRIMUS leaves, HOMER gets up, calling after him: Wait… Hey, Primus. What do you play?

PRIMUS slams the door, and HOMER is heard banging it: Primus? Hey, Primus. PRIMUS.

PRIMUS’s face contorts into a savage grin: See you in a year, Homer...

A baseball flies through the night sky, tail trailing behind it like a comet.

PRIMUS: I play first base.