ATTRITION | PILOT | (Pages 19 - 27)
Ava and Yesu enter the world of Castrumn
ENTER THE WORLD OF CASTRUMN…
Castrum serves as the primary backdrop for the events of Season One. The city’s original name was erased during the War of the Americas, replaced with “Castrum” — Latin for stronghold. During the brief civil conflict, it became a last bastion for the emerging New Constitutional Government, while the city just south, across the river, was nearly obliterated and now lies abandoned.
Castrum went on to become the first officially recognized AI-regulated city under the new regime. It now serves as the headquarters of The Department, housed within the ominously named Freedom Nexus. Bordering a collapsing rogue state, Castrum enforces a notoriously draconian border policy. It also functions as a vital manufacturing gateway.
Designed entirely by The Department’s algorithm, Castrum was the first city built as a national social experiment — and, by their standards, a success. It remains a curated microcosm of what a model city should be under the New Constitutional Government. The phrase “If it works in Castrum…” has become a national mantra. Citizens of Castrum are expected not only to comply, but to embody the ideals of the state — to be a model for all citizens across the republic.
Castrum’s polish was utopian — but its truth ran darker. The best dystopias always wear the mask of a utopia… for the deserving.
Castrumn | Garden District
PREVIOUS EPISODE
In the previous episode, Yesu saves the HNTR from a catastrophic meltdown…
INT. MACHINE FACTORY - HNTR FLOOR - CONTINUOUS
The crew stands rigid—lined up in formation like soldiers before judgment. Across from them, PLANT MANAGER DUBLIN, livid, pacing.
YESU steps forward, placing himself between his men and the fire.
DUBLIN | This is the consequence of total incompetence. My incompetence—for thinking any of you were mentally capable of running this floor.
(beat)
I’d ask for an explanation, but I’m not sure any of you are smart enough to give me one.
(beat)
Who was responsible for the floor?
SYDNEY starts to speak—
YESU | I was.
DUBLIN (snarling) | I thought I could trust you. Clearly, I can’t.
BAILOR (blurting out) | Pre-op approved the decay rate as stable—
YESU silences him with a small hand motion.
DUBLIN (to Yesu) | Who is this?
YESU | My ingest operator.
DUBLIN | And you accept excuses from your floor?
(to Bailor) Because I don’t. If your mind’s not sharp enough for the job, maybe you belong in District 7 with the rest of the air-wasters. Did you cause this?
YESU | No. I reviewed the ingest myself. Pre-op flagged the material as viable. Clearly—it wasn’t.
DUBLIN (closing the distance) | I manage Pre-op personally. You accusing me of something?
YESU (calm) | No accusations. Just facts. The material was marked stable. It wasn’t. The reports will confirm that.
A charged pause. Dublin’s nostrils flare.
DUBLIN (threatning) | Then I’m sure the report will come to read “human error.” And if you won’t name someone beneath you— The head that rolls... will be yours.
YESU | Since the floor's staffing was cut to meet efficiency mandates, I’ve automated all incident reports. They’ve already been sent to Central. Timestamped for verification.
(beat) If there’s a head that rolls—they’ll find the right one.
DUBLIN (menacing) | Is this a threat?
YESU (stoic) | Never. I believe it will be in both of our best interests to get our machine back to full operation before central feels this... hiccup.
Dublin steps in too close, but with a glance, Yesu’s eyes remind Dublin who was once a soldier, and who was not. Even Yesu’s restraint carries an air of immanence.
DUBLIN | Until this mess is cleaned up, you’ll work unpaid— Until my floor runs again, I don’t care if you never leave this building. This is on you.
YESU | I understand.
Dublin turns away—then freezes when Yesu speaks again:
YESU | But I won’t be starting now.
DUBLIN (turning) | What did you just say?
YESU | I have an appointment with the Department.
Dublin stiffens. That lands.
DUBLIN | Fine. But your whole floor stays until this is fixed. Who’s covering in your absence?
SYDNEY | It’s my shift. We’ll have it running before sundown.
DUBLIN | I doubt any of you are capable of that. You barely qualify for the status you’ve got.
He storms off with his assistant.
The tension lingers. Then—
BAILOR (quietly) | Thank you, Yesu.
Yesu nods.
SYDNEY (low, to Yesu) | Go home, brother.
EXT. THE DAVIS HOUSE - PORCH - dawn
A driverless cab arrives at the tiny porch of Yesu's urban row-house.
SUPER: The Old Suburbs
The neighborhood is old, a bit run down, but reasonably well kept.
Most houses are empty, their lawns gently overgrown. But those who remain try to maintain their modest properties- the Davis home is one of those. Less than modest, but proud.
Avaline stands on the porch waiting. The driverless cab pulls away and Yesu rushes up.
YESU | I'm sorry love-
AVALINE | Shhhh..I know.
He reaches the top of the steps, she presents him a hot dark cup of coffee.
YESU | We have to go.
AVALINE | There's time. You worked a long night. And the day will be long. We have right now.
He sips, it's perfect. He takes a real drink, it's serene. She brings him into the house.
INT. THE DAVIS HOUSE - KITCHEN - MOMENTS LATER
They sit together in a peaceful silence, and eat a quaint breakfast.
YESU | Thank you.
His eyes, bright with genuine gratitude, says more than any words could.
She kisses his cheek gently and for a moment just watches him. He notices something in her eyes, hesitance.
YESU | Are you really okay?
AVALINE | We don't have to do it this way.
YESU (gently) | It's the only way.
AVALINE | We both know it's— not right.
YESU | That fight ended a long time ago.
AVALINE | ...i know.
YESU (genuinely) | Tell me another way...please, tell me another way we can just have peace.
She can't find words; neither can he.
They take in another moment of peace.
YESU | Ready?
She nods.
EXT. TRANSIT STOP - MORNING
Yesu and Avaline sit close on a metal bench, warming each other against the cold grayness of the foggy morning, waiting for public transit.
Across the street, families wait with their small children for the school transit. A self-driving transit glides up—Avaline smiles at the waves, the laughter, the cheerful goodbyes.
Then, their own city transit arrives—sleek, silent, and impersonal. It rolls between her and the families, severing the view.
Yesu’s expression dims. Avaline sees.
We watch, birds-eye, as the couple embark.
INT. CASTRUMN TRANSIT - CONTINUOUS
They enter the driverless transit. A slight flash and pleasant tone from an overhead sensor checks them in.
AI AVATAR (O.S.) | Patriot confirmed. Thanks for riding Castrumn transit.
They find a seat.
AI AVATAR (O.S.) | Final destination. Federal Plaza. 5 stops ahead. ETA 47 minutes.
The doors close.
EXT. CASTRUMN HIGHWAY - MORNING
We watch from above as the transit glides onto the highway, soaring along a raised monorail above the slow, unified crawl of sleek, driverless smart cars—orderly, obedient, and utterly congested.
SUPER: CASTRUMN
Ahead: Castrumn. A modular smart city—ominous, towering, unyielding. A labyrinth of metamaterial and nanoglass, raised skyward like a crown of glass and steel, dominating the northside of a wide, silent river.
INT. CASTRUMN TRANSIT - MORNING
The transit is packed to capacity now. Most proudly peacock their class-issued citizen-wear.
Men wear pressed, uniform-style jumpsuits with banded collars—each band edged in colors denoting their class, each chest marked with a pendant signifying their industry.
Some suits are black, some gray, a rare few white trimmed in gold—those pendants gleaming like status medals.
The women’s attire mirrors the men’s, but with neatly folded ponchos draped across their shoulders, each bearing its own pendant.
Then there are the others—the drab-wearers, unbadged and out of place.
They don’t speak. And no one stands too close.
Yesu stands, having given his seat to an elderly woman.
AI AVATAR (O.S.) | Now entering Freedom Protected zone Seven, perimeter.
Avaline peers out the window, her eyes tracing rows of concrete modular towers—borders edged in flickering blue neon. Oversized 28-star American flags hang ominously from every overhang.
This part of the city is different. It feels older. Neglected.The stark towers loom—veiling, enclosing, consuming a different world entirely. Not a city. An open-air prison.
SUPER: FREEDOM PROTECTED ZONE 7
Her face sinks.
YESU (pulling her attention) | Hey?
AVALINE | I just hate coming through here.
YESU | One last time. One last time love, and we'll be done.
In the corner of the bus, the young teen, one in the cleanest of the "drab" inconspicuously carves a facsimile of the big dipper into the carbon fiber of the bus directly in the eyeline of Avaline.
Avaline's eyes find it; her face flushes.
AVALINE (to herself) | ...a drinking gourd?
YESU | hmm?
AVALINE |...nothing...
The teen catches her eye, she looks away; he continues to study her before hiding his face in the shadow of his hoodie.
EXT. FPZ 7 - PERIMETER PAVILLION - CONTINUOUS
The transit presses on, gliding above the sluggish tide of traffic. It rounds a bend, passing over a cluster of the homeless and aged—camped in tight formations along patches of exposed pavement. Their shelters, a mosaic of tarps, scraps, and stubborn dignity.
Above them, a poster looms: “Activism is Terrorism.”
Below it, almost hidden beneath layers of propaganda, a quiet defiance— the Big Dipper, carved faint and small.
At every corner, at every stop: signs. Cameras. Surveillance rigs. Watch towers. Propaganda, peeling and repasted. Eyes—mechanical and human—everywhere.
INT. CASTRUMN TRANSIT - CONTINUOUS
The transit comes to a stop, everyone not in citizen-wear empties out.
The teen exits as well, but not before giving a glance to Avaline that she ignores.
He's the last to exit. Avaline peaks at him from behind the closing door. He looks directly at her. The door closes.
Ext. FPZ 7 - PERIMETER PAVILLION - CONTINUOUS
From the cuffs of his hoodie, the teen pulls out an IRD, and then eyes the transit as it makes its way deeper into Castrumn.
EXT. CASTRUMN MAIN SQUARE - CONTINUOUS
From birds eye view we watch the transit blast ahead toward the center of the city. There, a massive plaza sits, and at its center an imposing structure proudly crowned with luminescent concrete seal of "The Department of Social regulation".
INT/EXT. CASTRUMN TRANSIT/FEDERAL PLAZA- MORNING
The transit wanes to a stop.
AUTOMATED VOICE | Federal plaza. Department of social regulation. Please submit to security search.
Yesu and Avaline disembark into the flow of pedestrians on the Federal Plaza, immediately pressed.
The AI loudspeakers voice permeates the plaza looping various announcements and instructions, including-
AI AVATAR (O.S.) | Welcome to the department of social regulation. We know what you'll do before you do.
Ahead, security officers sift the crowd. Yesu's eyes question the scene.
AVALINE (quietly) | There was an activist incident Yesterday.
YESU | C'mon, let's just get inside.
They hurry on. A hand roughly grips Yesu.
OFFICER | Can I see ID?
YESU (a beat, a breath) | Sure.
He pulls out a device, the officer scans it and checks the results for a prolonged period of time.
OFFICER | Where are you headed?
YESU | The federal building.
The officer points toward the building.
OFFICER | Move along.
They move along, careful not to show agitation; but not before eying a layered and stacked roving spherical surveillance drones monitoring the plaza.
YESU | I hate it here too.
Together, they ascend the processional steps—toward the propylaea of the Department
TO BE CONTINUED