Chapter Text
[Scene: A white void. One black sofa. A large TV screen is facing it. The space hums with strange, sterile stillness. Suddenly, a door appears from nothing—and swings open.]
The Voice (offscreen): Hello, lovely folks! In you go—and don’t forget to close the door!
[Achilles and Patroclus are shoved in unceremoniously. The door slams shut. Both men are attached with translators upon entry; they now know how to speak and understand English. Achilles glares furiously in the direction of the voice.]
Achilles (A): Who the heck are you?
Patroclus (P): Achilles, let’s jus—
A: [Already in full-volume infamous rage] I’m not giving a single more minute! I DEMAND to be let out! Trapped in a—what is this- Agamemnon’s petty excuse of a tent? I am Aristos Achaion, the greatest warrior of my GENERATION, and I—
The Voice: Sheesh, bro, calm down. Your generation is dead and has been for a long time. All will be explained. Now, get comfy—we’re rolling [Offscreen] Director, got the camera ready? Wait, what do you mean I ain't got a director? [sighs exasperatingly] Anyway.
P: Rolling…? Sir, could you-
A: [Still fuming, muttering under his breath] Of course. Misery. Always misery. Ripped out of Elysium for this? For this? [shouts to the ceiling] HOPE YOU ROT IN TARTARUS, YOU COWARD! I didn’t even finish my tea.
P: [Sighs] We could at least hear them out before threatening eternal damnation. Besides, we could cut back on the evening gossip, Achilles.
[The voice cackles silently. Little do both men know, but this ordeal is just gossip. Both men get situated on the singular sofa, Patroclus sits stiffly while Achilles drapes himself like a Renaissance painting.]
The Voice: Today is a day of exploration. The year is 2025, many years from your exploits. Thus, we thought it would be wonderful to find out how you are portrayed today in this day and age. Why, Achilles, didn’t you spend your life chasing an eternal name, sacrificing many valuable things and people in the process?
[Achilles looks up in horror and uttermost shock- the voice just took things a little too far]
A: …
The Voice: Well, now’s your chance. You’re about to interact with your own legacy.
A: [Clears his throat, his restlessness kicking in] Well, you talk too much and I'm bored. Can we start already, so we can leave? Pat's got gardening with Eudice in an hour.
P: Achilles, shut up. Please go ahead, sir. Sorry for Achilles’s… petulance.
A: Are you kidding me right now, Pat? I thought you had my back?
P: [Throwing hands in frustration] Well, act your age then, I-
The Voice: Shhh. Let’s begin. Y'all keep yapping. Like, is this how you fought? How did you even survive ten years? Kids those days. Anyway, first thing on the agenda- The Troy movie, 2004! Get you pillows- yes, Patroclus, the big fluffy things that look like clouds. No, don't give me those puppy eyes.
[Patroclus blinks and hesitantly reaches for the pillows. Achilles, meanwhile, has found a blanket somehow and is wrapped in it like a burrito.
A: Sounds promising.
[The Voice cackles. Ominously.]
The Voice: Oh… very promising indeed.