the context is some yeah right future where ethnographic values endure. a cyclopsian archeologist pulled from the brainstorm scrapbox of a Hollywood board meeting chances on a laptop powered by remnant coronaviral heat or some other time-stamped disaster and the set designer hangs turtles with straws up their noses representing just a momentary art phase in the destruction of our planet. the bones of a glass-bottom boat drift over coral graveyards and brass statues of colonial men bob out the sunroof of Shakira’s old Tesla in this: the brave new ocean. motorised Uniqlo mannequins, those once-apostles of the normcore zeitgeist now dressed in seaweed board shorts, a keyboard headpiece and a skyscraper window shard wedged in the side like a baby on the hip are still twirling like they once did in the flagship but now up on the great pacific garbage patch, a bluetooth mouse for a pet, floating around. the critics will remark how all these particular combinations of scrap oscillated into companionship by that great tidal conductor make them think of RhymeZone where chamois met with chutzpah and Tim Tam lay with syntagm, minced ham, swim team and San Tomé. I suppose the clincher for some viewers will be simply contemplating the inevitable death of Shakira, looking down from the film momentarily to nostalgically scroll through Super Bowl highlights, but as for the cyclops’ character development and given that despite growing ACAB attitudes detectives are still largely portrayed with panache cinematically, it will have complexity, and maybe even a referential Morpheus sunglass for the solitary eyeball. the writing process will be autopredictive and as a commentary on the fourth wall the screenwriter will be portrayed on screen in a Zoom breakout room decked in gumboots to the earlobes in a landfill of words. there she’ll sift through the stanzas for recyclables to trade for parts to fix the broken greenwash synonyms for a shallow retrospective on a world misnamed til the wind turbines got submerged by the sea and then we all thought of the same joke: I guess hydro’s the next big thing. the Ballina branch of the Hollywood board meeting decide to simplify the plot to make it more timely, accessible, punchy and narrative driven so the cyclops turns on the laptop from its steaming pile of keepcups, nurdles and perfectly preserved big macs and begins its quest to decode the 21st century from pure emoji