At five pm and Don is adjusting the vertices on David Caruso’s moustache, giving it a dignified tidiness that his own equally ginger moustache lacked. His had a matching beard, both were unkempt and slowly taking on a life all of their own. David Caruso plays the wizened tram conductor among other characters. Don is one 3D designer among many. He didn't animate any more.
He reaches under his desk and takes out his briefcase. Opening it he reveals a collapsed bicycle frame, he unfolds it and screws on the horn. As he saddles up he hits return, starting the intricate series of processes that turn points in 3D space into a magical experience for the winter holidays.
Some studio heads lurked around the corridors, corporate mandate dictated that all cyclists should honk their horn coming up to corners. He honked alerting the suits to his presence they poised to ask him some questions but he was out of sight before they had the chance, peddling for dear life.
Riding through the corridors of the building he sees his Employers and Co-workers, along with some studio heads sniffing around. He honks as he passes.
At reception Carlos the midget valet takes his bicycle and folds it into back into its case, ready for the next morning. Rows of suitcases lie in a row behind him. Don declined the small talk as most people did.
Luckily enough there was a doughnut in the glove box of his people carrier from that morning. People Carrier was probably a misnomer in this case, since he bought a year ago Don is the generally the only person it's carries. But it's comfortable and he needs the space.
Dinner was more or less as strained as it always was. Don sat at one end the table, Dorothy, his wife at the other, mashed potato in the middle. As usual Mike ate in the living room watching TV with his plate on his lap. No one talked unless they had to.
Don felt he had something to say. "We made progress on David Caruso’s follicle count, we should have total strand control by the end of the week. It's very exiting. We always knew we'd beat Shrek, but know we're going to level it and" he paused for thought, "eat the donkey."
Knowing full well nothing good could come of it she replied, "How's the script?"
"We can knock one up in a couple of days. The story’s there already."
"Shouldn't you have one? From the start?"
"Honey, that's a common misunderstanding about the business. Well, yeah we need one, but what is more important is the technology, this movie will revolutionise the way we think about movies. We are at the stage that we can have one actor play anything from a lowly beggar, a spoiled child or a tram, and that’s just right now. In the future this is going to make actors irrelevant, I'm telling you, Caruso has signed his own pink slip."
"What's wrong with actors."
"Well for a start they don't look good in front of green screen, how would you like to spend a year of your life airbrushing the edge Harrison Ford's hairpiece, and have it still look lousy. Actors just aren't versatile enough in today's market. Can an actor run up a wall, can you shoot one in the head."
"Not without litigation."
"Exactly my point"
Silence permeated the kitchen.
"What about your son?"
Despite the brief interruption silence continued to permeate through the kitchen.
"He looks real enough to me. at any distance, his movement appears, to the naked eye to be accurate" Dorothy wasn't sure if she was being witty or desperate, "he has a full head of hair that responds to a variety of real-time environmental factors. You should talk to him."
Don dropped his fork and began to gaze into her eyes "Do you remember that video we shot at lake Michigan with Bobby?"
"Sure he was five. You tried to keep him by your side but he just kept running up that trail."
"I couldn't keep up."
"Yeah, I remember that tape."
"Well I used it in a test screening for the Japanese and 79% of those questioned were convinced that Bobby was computer generated."
Dorothy sobbed. "What's that got to do with anything?"
"..of the remaining twenty one percent, 13% were undecided."