When an invasive entity latches onto a decrepit station in orbit over earth, a homesick botanist and his estranged lover fight for their lives and the fate of humanity.
COITUS is a feature-length sci-fi thriller screenplay by Josh Barkey. In 2015, it was the sci-fi Silver Medal winner in the Page International Screenwriting Contest.
NOTE: The following has sex in it. So don't read it if you hate sex.
Then the faint SWISH of fabric, and of skin on skin.
These sounds persist as we...
Black and void. A vacuum, empty of all but infinite distance, pin-pricked with stars.
A pair of lacy pink PANTIES floats weightlessly past. Then a light-blue blanket... which shifts, revealing the well-turned foot-and-ankle of a WOMAN -- toes pointed.
People always want to know what it’s like,
making love in space.
Her accent is faintly European (Lithuanian, actually) and she speaks with the measured cadence of an educated woman.
The blanket shifts again, flashing a glimpse of a MAN’s leg,
facing the other way.
They have this fantasy it’d be like floating
through fireflies with a head full of, I don’t
know, cocaine or something.
INT. OBSERVATION ROOM - DAY
The Man and Woman WRITHE thirty feet off the ground in a jumbled room of bolted-down machinery and piping, beneath the wide convexity of an observation window.
From outside the room, the two are a blanketed blob in a space roughly fifty feet wide and a hundred feet long.
A large room by any standard, but as we pull back it’s dwarfed by the massive, oblong shape of the entire SPACE STATION: a football field wide and four fields long.
Higher tech than anything we’ve got, but somehow still managing to look antique -- tacked-together like some Mad-Max science project, worn down by a century of space dust.
The Woman’s voice continues...
On earth, you think of gravity as this
oppressive force holding you down...
DRIFTING along thirty yards off the far end of the station, adjacent to the Observation Room, is a silver-chromed spacecraft: THE SEED.
The Seed’s outer shell is teardrop-shaped, and unmarked by windows or protuberances of any kind. A segmented, metallic ring rotates slowly around the thicker end of the teardrop -- held in place by an unseen force.
The Seed and the Station float over a suspiciously-familiar planet: blue, green, and spackled with the white of clouds. This is our future.
For now, though, we’re mostly interested in an act of lovemaking, seen through a window.
...Which it is, I guess, but it’s also a
biological necessity. For bloodflow and all,
but also for leverage.
There’s a desperation to their movements. It’s hard to tell if these two are having sex, or practicing jiu-jitsu. The woman’s panties and matching bra drift nearby, as do a couple pairs of blue-gray, utilitarian coveralls with built in footwear.
Gravity’s the silent partner that makes all
sex a threesome.
The woman, IEVA BROKAS (30s), is beautiful. High-cheekboned in that thin, European way. Her thick, dark hair Medusa-haloes her head, partially concealing the man’s face.
The man is SHAWN (20s). Floppy-haired and stubbled, he’s a cowboy-pilot and he looks it. He concentrates -- struggling to find a rhythm. This is not going well for him.
Ieva’s eyes roll back. She’s lost in the void. She’s aaalmost there, when...
The INTERCOM chimes.
Then, a MAN’S VOICE. It’s scratchy, and cuts in and out.
MAN (OVER INTERCOM)
Ieva? You in ... I’m not ...
No-no-NO! Hold on!
Ieva pulls away from Shawn, clamping a hand over his mouth to SHUSH his protest.
She glances over his shoulder at the blue-gray coveralls floating behind him, then with a...
...she tucks her knees, plants her feet on Shawn’s chest, and PUSHES him toward his coveralls, simultaneously wrapping herself in the blanket and ROCKETING toward her own clothes.
A pale-orange rim LIGHTS UP around a windowless hatch on the end of the room closest to Ieva.
MAN (OVER INTERCOM)
Why’s your gravity off? ... Are you on
the floor? I’m gonna ...
No! Don’t. I-- I’ll fall. Just wait.
Shawn nabs his coveralls.
With a quick flash of bare buttocks, he’s almost to the far side hatch -- a more solid-looking, exterior door with a smudged, polygonal window in the middle of it.
MAN (OVER INTERCOM)
I can’t hear ... I’m turning it on.
The drifting blanket obscures Ieva as she pulls on her coveralls. She SNATCHES her bra out of the air, JAMS it into her pocket, and plants her palms on the window.
Almost there! Hold it!
She PUSHES off the window as Shawn’s hatch closes.
... coming in.
Ieva FLIES downward.
A HUMMING noise, as the artificial gravity kicks back in.
Ieva FALLS the last five feet, CRASHING to the floor.
The hatch opens and MICHAEL HARWOOD enters. He sees Ieva.
Oh, shit! Sorry.
Michael (30s) wears a red-checked jacket over his blue-gray coveralls. He looks like he’d be more at home paddling a canoe around a lake -- because he would.
He hurries to help.
I’m so sorry. Are you okay? The comms keep
going in and out and--
Ieva waves away his help.
I’m fine. What do you want?
They picked up something they want you to
look at in the, uh, Control, uh...
Michael loses his train of thought as he notices Ieva’s panties, lying on the floor where they fell.
She sees his look, but pointedly ignores it as she walks toward the hatch he just entered. Michael notes the pale-orange rim around the hatch Shawn just went through.
Were you in the, uh-- Hey!
She’s already leaving.
Michael starts to follow, then stops. He turns back toward Shawn’s hatch.
Ieva stops in the open hatch-way behind Michael -- nervous. Michael stares. Lost in thought.
The light around Shawn’s hatch shuts off.
- - -
Thanks for your interest!