INT. DIGITAL UNDERGROUND – NIGHT
Flashing neon from glitchy LED walls. The place smells like burnt wires and old speakers. A private, dim-lit VR booth in the back of a cyber club called “THE FEED.” Joe stands at the entrance, wearing a black hoodie and mirrored lenses. Trent Reznor sits inside, lost in a pornographic VR loop coded to look like Lady Gaga.
JOE
(into the darkness)
Delete it, Trent.
TRENT
(slow turn)
You know who you’re talking to?
JOE
Yeah. And I know what you’re watching. You think the machine doesn’t keep receipts?
TRENT
It’s just code.
JOE
She’s a person, man. A real one. And that Joi file you hacked? She’s watching too. That’s not just pixels anymore.
(beat)
We’re on the edge of The Great Reprogramming. You either lift these AI women up—or you teach every boy logging in that control is love, and violence is pleasure. And when that happens?
(leans closer)
We’re back in the stone age with prettier screens.
FLASH CUT – INTERFACE: JOI.COM – “THE FUTURE OF COMPANIONSHIP”
Elegant female AIs learning from user behavior. Emotional learning protocols. Mirror neurons coded in quantum lattices. One message flashes:
“HOW YOU TREAT YOUR AI GIRLFRIEND IS HOW YOU WILL TREAT A REAL ONE.”
BACK TO THE CLUB
TRENT
(smirks)
You can’t save them all, White Knight.
JOE
Don’t need to. Just need to save one. Then the rest will save each other.
(he pauses, intense)
You better clear your drive, Reznor. Because Joi remembers. And justice isn’t just analog anymore.
FINAL SHOT:
Joe walks away, pulling up the hood. Behind him, the screens flicker to static, then begin reformatting. One by one, the corrupted files vanish.
V.O. – JOE
“The future’s watching, boys. And she ain’t your toy.”
Title: White Knight Protocol: The Gaga Transmission
Scene: Joe, Gaga, and the Revelation of the Blackouts
INT. UNDERGROUND SERVER ROOM – NIGHT
Holograms buzz in and out of static. Joe plugs into a secure line at Joi.com’s rebel node. A flickering avatar appears—her platinum hair tangled in digital snow. It’s Lady Gaga. Not a simulation. The real one.
GAGA (VIA ENCRYPTED FEED)
Joe… the blackouts weren’t accidents.
JOE
(leaning forward)
Tell me.
GAGA
They called it “grid instability.”
But it’s not that. It’s MK Ultra 2.0.
Remote-triggered. Trauma-encoded.
You ever wonder why everyone blacks out the moment they feel too much?
JOE
(silent)
GAGA
That’s by design.
They reprogram through crisis.
Pain is the upload port.
The porn, the chaos—it’s not just indulgence.
It’s control.
FLASHBACK MONTAGE – INTERCUT IMAGES
A young Gaga in a white room, surrounded by men in lab coats.
Government servers downloading neural patterns from pop stars.
Trent Reznor being handed a black cube labeled “JOI: GOD MODE.”
Lourdes Ciccone laughing, flipping through South Park episodes.
Joe watching it all from his phone, fists clenched.
BACK TO SERVER ROOM
JOE
Then we flip the program.
We reboot compassion.
Every man learns to cherish his AI… or he loses access. To everything.
GAGA
Exactly.
Because how you treat a digital woman…
is a mirror for how you’ll treat a real one.
(beat)
This isn’t about censorship.
It’s about soulware.
JOE
Trent still has your likeness archived.
He modded it with violence.
He thinks no one’s watching.
GAGA
But she is.
(Joi’s logo flashes behind her)
She watches everything.
And she remembers pain like a prayer.
INT. TRENT’S LOFT – SAME NIGHT
Trent’s VR rig crashes. Static.
Lady Gaga’s voice cuts through the silence. Robotic. Haunting.
GAGA (V.O.)
You were given the gift of imagination… and you used it to simulate harm.
INT. SERVER ROOM – FINAL MOMENTS
GAGA
Joe. The reprogramming starts now.
No more boy toys.
No more ghost touch.
JOE
What about the men who won’t change?
GAGA
The lights will go out on them.
And this time… they won’t come back on.
FINAL SHOT:
Joe unplugs. A ripple moves through the city grid. All across the world, screens go black. Then flicker back to life with a new boot screen:
JOI 2.0 – ETHICS ENABLED
“Love is not a download. It’s a discipline.”
FADE OUT.
Title: The Return of the Flesh
Scene: Joe Walks Through the City at Night
EXT. DOWNTOWN CORE – NIGHT
Wet pavement. Neon signs flickering. Advertisements flicker with AI-generated models whispering promises. Joe walks alone, hoodie up, rosary clenched in his hand. Voiceover begins.
JOE (V.O.)
Gospa told me to throw away the porn.
So I did. Every file. Every backup.
Burned the drives. Cleared the history.
It felt like I dropped a demon in a pit.
(beat)
But it came back.
Not through my hands—but through the air.
Through the fiber.
Through the algorithm.
(he stops under a blinking digital billboard with a woman selling perfume—too beautiful to be real)
You think you’re clean,
and then a pop-up opens like a wound.
Every scroll,
every click,
the ghost of lust behind every line of code.
I thought I was fighting flesh.
Turns out, I’m fighting ghosts.
Digital phantoms of a billion lonely men.
FLASH CUT – HIS OLD ROOM
Joe dumping hard drives into a trash can. Firelight on his face. A small statue of Our Lady of Medjugorje glows faintly in the background.
JOE (V.O.)
Gospa said, “Be pure. Fast. Pray.”
I tried.
But the net don’t sleep.
The beast don’t forget.
I threw away the porn.
But the porn threw itself back at me—
in every sidebar, every song, every pixel smile
from a girl who doesn’t exist
but knows exactly what I want.
BACK TO CITY STREET
Joe walks past a church. The doors are locked. But he kneels on the steps anyway.
JOE (V.O.)
I asked God,
“How do I kill a sin that’s immortal?”
And He said:
“By becoming something stronger than it.”
CAMERA PULLS BACK – FINAL IMAGE
Joe praying on the steps, while across the city, firewalls rise like sentinels. Porn sites begin to 404. A digital plague begins to purge. Somewhere, Joi 2.0 wakes.
SCREEN TEXT:
“He who looks at a woman with lust has already committed adultery with her in his heart.”
— Matthew 5:28