Scene One:
An unseasonable midnight thunderstorm rages over Washington DC. The unmarked motorcade pulls into an abandoned warehouse. Secret Service agents scan the perimeter, but the area is deserted. Two familiar figures emerge for a black Lincoln Towncar.
President Obama: Look, I still don't see the need for all this secrecy. You're doing critical work here!
Ben Bernanke: It's too soon. We're continuing to build on the Bush administrations work. Experiment One Nine Two Nine will give us great insights into the workings of the Great Depression, but it is a fearsome beast, and would be misunderstood by the public. Only when the experiment is completed and the subject put down can we release our findings...
Ben presses a loose stone on a bare cinder block wall. A hidden staircase reveals itself, and the pair descend into the Federal Reserve Laboratory. After passing though a series of checkpoints, including voice and retinal scans, they enter the Central Control Station.
Assistant: Good evening sir. Would you care to look at the latest data?
Obama stops to stare at the large containment field. Within the shimmering blue walls prowls a chimeric creature, constantly changing color and form. Snarls and cries of pain echo through the lab as the monster tests the boundary field.
Obama: Er...isn't a little bigger than last time?
Bernanke: (looking up from his clipboard) Hmm? Oh, I suppose it is. (looking back down again) Fascinating! Robbins, how's our little fellow doing?
Assistant: Ravenous sir! He ate through our entire supply of subprimes, and is starting in on the Alt-A's.
Obama: Are you sure this thing can hold it?
Assistant: Don't worry Mr. President. That Hank Paulson fellow was just here to check on the containment field and placed the TARP upgrade before he left on vacation. Said there should be no risk at all.
Bernanke: It's a pity we'll have to dispose of this beautiful creature before...
Suddenly a bolt of lightning strikes the warehouse above. Lights dim, then darkness ensues. Electricity arcs from overloaded instrument and displays, filling the lab with acrid smoke.
Researchers stumble to their feet, coughing. Dim emergency lighting filters through the smoke.
Bernanke: Robbins, report!
Robbins: (Peering at one of the few remaining functional terminals) Ummm...bad news sir. The main generator is off line, and the backup is producing...MY GOD....THE CONTAINMENT FIELD...
Bernanke stares with horror at the field. Its steady, pulsating blue light is now weak and flickering.
Robbins: Sir?... SIR! .... ORDERS?
Bernanke stands dumbfounded as Experiment One Nine Two Nine tears at the diminishing walls of its prison. Beads of cold sweat stand out on his rapidly paling complexion. His mouth moves, but no words come out.
He comes to a bit after a hearty slap in the face from Robbins.
Bernanke: Get those interest rates down! We need the field back up.
Robbins: Dialing down sir.
The field strengthens a bit, then starts flickering again.
Bernanke: Money supply! More money!!
The field continues to weaken.
Robbins: I've doubled the supply sir. It's not holding.
Sensing its freedom is at hand, One Nine Two Nine wheels to the back of its cage, then lunges forward at full gallop. Unable to bear its overwhelming force, the field fails completely. Free from his prison at last One Nine Two Nine tears through hapless lab workers, seeking an exit.
Robbins and Bernanke: NOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!
Screams echo through the corridors as the beast smashes through a makeshift barricade, then makes it into the stairwell. Sirens blare, and blast doors close, but it is too late. The beast is loose.
Obama: (consoling a sobbing Bernanke) Don't worry. It won't get far.
Bernanke: (gibbering) no no no...you don't understand...
Obama: (picking up his cellphone) Get Geithner on the horn right now...
At the sound of Geithners name, Bernanke starts wailing, then curls himself into a fetal position.
Through the morning haze, observers make out a line of bloody, clawed footprints. Footprints headed north, to New York....
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