What is Inclusivity? She's like a noble warrior fighting the Legions of creatures of Darkness, Ignorance and Abuse. Rolling waves of Contempt torment her seemingly indestructible bastions of Tolerance, and she sometimes retreats, unable to withstand the fierce battle with Reality. And only by uniting with their eternal sister and comrade- in- arms, whose name is Diversity, are the two of them able to overcome the Impossible and create Kindness and Content for the Viewer, Listener, Reader. Inclusivity is Diversity. So it was, is and will be, forever and ever.
Cardi B. 3rd century BC.
Another Disclaimer: The author apologizes in advance.
Everything you're about to read is purely fictional and comes from the minds of imaginary characters.
They are indeed all fictional! They have nothing to do with planet Earth. And they are on their own,
and do not reflect the real position of the author. I want to distance myself from them as cowardly as possible. It is the Comedy of the Absurd and it's all grotesque. I'm already ashamed that I wrote this book!
Sorry if this offends you.
And again: sorry if this offends you.
And once more...
THE LAST STRONGHOLD OF ART.
There's a legend that, in truth, doesn't exist.
But hey—why don't we just make one up together, right here and now?
So, friends... (Though let's be real, you're not my friends, but that's how polite society expects me to address you.) We're about to go on a long journey (unless you already slammed this book shut, and I wouldn't blame you).
Anyway, shall we get this over with already?
Here's what we're working with: a giant mountain, the peak of that giant mountain, its one and only resident, a tiny country nestled below its slope, and of course—the country's feisty, scrappy
population. Let's go in order and start with the mountain.
There's not much to say about it. It's just a big, pretty mountain. There are plenty of those around the world, right? Exactly.
So let's skip the mountain and its peak, and cut straight to the only reason we're even here: the illustrious resident of that summit, who is already getting bored out of his mind while we're here babbling about nothing. Shame on us—keeping such a dignified citizen of Fellinia waiting!
Especially since he also happens to be—by the way—the actual God of this country. Tsk, tsk.
His day's clearly off to a bad start: Not only are we chatting about nonsense, but no one's brought him the daily required offerings—video submissions.
Wilhelm is sad. Wilhelm feels unloved. Even his signature Scream isn't getting a response, and no one's bringing him even a low- budget procedural drama. The poor thing is so starved for content he's considering watching that godawful soap opera where a broke girl/boy somehow lands a hot, rich businessman/prince who just wants to be their lover.
That's how low the Mighty Lord of Fellinia has sunk.
You think only flesh- and- blood beings can feel sad? Think again.
Sure, Wilhelm is an artificial entity—some call him a golem—but deep down, he's a sensitive soul. He may look intimidating—heck, he might even scare a kid or two—but luckily, in his domain, all
the kids are already media- trained and booked for ad gigs, or starring in sitcoms and reality shows (with their parents, of course. Wilhelm reveres the fairy- tale legislation!).
On Wilhelm's lumpy cranium, he's got megaphones for voicing his desires, giant eyeball- cameras for watching things, and finely- tuned ears for savoring the good sound design. He doesn't technically have - eyes- or a lot of other human bits, but what he does have is hands. Lots of hands. All of them useful.
One hand has a film projector with old- school gramophone sound—he uses that for silent films. Another has a newer projector with surround sound.
You get the idea, right?
His hands don't end in fingers but in VHS decks, DVD players, USB ports—one of them even makes you pay to watch stuff, and he hates that greedy little Pay- Per- View limb. Oh, if only he could go back to the sweet, analog days of VHS tapes—life would be so much better…
Every inch of tiny Fellinia is devoted to cinema—all for the whims of their Lord. The nation is one massive film set. Day and night, they shoot everything from masterpieces to B- movies to viral challenges from influencer streamers. Food and water appear out of thin air—Wilhelm can't have his people wasting time on mundane survival. That's beneath them. That's beneath him.
—WHERE ARE MY MOVIES, YOU WORMS?! — Booms this tender being, his voice a cascade of godly rage demanding tribute.
Nobody answers.
His gigantic, modern- cyclops body starts hopping mad—literally—causing tremors and avalanches. He considers punishing these disobedient mortals, maybe by hurling some boulders... but when he lifts one up, he sighs. It's foam. A prop rock from some peplum set...
Just as he reaches peak despair—contemplating whether it's time to call a TV therapist—he hears a buzzing near his ear.
At first, he thinks it's some cursed ringtone and tries to ignore it, but it doesn't go away. Right in front of his face, a drone zips in, dangling a flash drive.
Could it be? Could this really be what he's been craving?
The Supreme Lord yanks it off and jams it into the correct port faster than you can say - Content Creator.
The drone doesn't leave. It turns around and presents a second gift—a bucket of popcorn, also tied to its frame.
The God of the Entire Industry takes it, even though he hates this stupid, crunchy corn.
Still, he can't deny the traditions he himself etched into the ancient laws of content consumption.
With fast food in one hand and cinema in the other, he slams his chest- mounted PLAY button.
Stage One: The Budget Version of Billy Milligan.
The laptop screen had been glowing for two hours straight, showing a single image. But Flora adored her obsession and wasn't about to let it go. Why should she, when there was so much beauty to be found in just one thing? Like, say, an Oscar statuette. And that's it. What more could one possibly need?
So elegant! So regal, so refined! Look at the curves on that toned body, those arms folded just right, and that delightfully warped little face. Perfection stood before her—but so cruelly out of reach that tears of despair streamed down her face.
She traced the lines of the figurine with her fingertips, memorizing every detail, every contour, praying it would visit her in her dreams tonight. Or maybe every night. That would be even better!
All you've got are Meanwhile, I'm out there doing things, winning awards!
Oh no. Her again. The dreamer turned with visible annoyance toward the couch, where she— herself—was lounging, planting a kiss on the Oscar's forehead. The second Flora wore a sleek, high- end designer dress—no sequins, lace, or frills—but it hugged her perfectly, enhancing her assets and smoothing over any flaws. The original Flora couldn't help staring.
No way! — Sneered the — You actually stopped drooling and looked up at a real success story. Damn, you're talking to your Copy... that's already banal! Well hello there, Sad Little Face!
Flora spun around in her office chair and said with a sigh:
You're a successful businesswoman and the best director in the world, which means you know the secret to making it. Could you maybe give me a hint? A little clue about which direction to go? That would really help me out. I'd be so grateful!
The Copy kicked her leg in the air and snorted:
Oh, what's next? Should I just give you my agent's number? Or maybe land you a seven- figure deal? Do it yourself, broke- ass, and quit looking for a crutch. .. — Flora whimpered, ignoring the insults. — Or at least give me some motivation. Help me believe in myself! Am I not the ultimate motivation already? — The Copy snapped, standing up dramatically from the couch. Naturally, her flawless dress didn't wrinkle or crease one bit. — Listen, I'm not here to help you. I'm not signing up to be your mentor in some twelve- step program for wannabe
Still, I'm not gonna stop you either. I'm just here to roast you and remind you what a hopeless mess you are. So don't interrupt me while I'm bullying you, verstehen (understand)?
Ugh, abuse Even you don't get me! — Flora sighed deeply, gazing around her room. There was only one thing she really loved in there: a poster hanging on the wall. It featured her, full- length, in a denim jump Costume, Photoshopped to be holding an Oscar statuette. She looked so damn good in that photo. Truly a masterpiece.
She'd just graduated college, and her parents had drained their savings to pay for it. As a subtle parting gift, they'd hinted: - Time for you to go find a job, sweetie.- She took the hint.
Now she was renting a room in a two- bedroom apartment owned by a sweet old lady who spent her days napping and never came out.
Finding a job had been slow, but eventually, she landed a gig as a freelance copywriter online. The pay sucked, but it covered cheap rent, secondhand clothes, and food. Barely. Anything fun, like parties with Camillo and Lorenzo (her only friends), was out of budget.
Her parents worked non- stop and rarely visited. Aunt Evelyn, on the other hand, showed up way more than anyone wanted. Like today—she'd texted Flora asking to come over. Flora really didn't feel like entertaining, what with all her very important business (like staring at the Oscar on her screen for another hour).
Still, she said yes. Of course she did—she didn't know how to say no.
Aunt Evelyn lived nearby, so it wasn't even ten minutes before she came bursting in like Hurricane Katrina. She stopped in the doorway, cocked an ear toward the loud snores of the sleeping landlord- granny, and then turned to Flora with a raised brow:
So, tell me, sweetie, does she ever wake up? Or is Snow White still waiting for her seven surprisingly handsome dwarves? Auntie, actually, the one who woke Snow White was a handsome What you just described sounds more like an X- rated reboot. Really? I keep mixing up those Guinean Oh! Anyway—I brought fabulous news!
What happened? Is she finally moving away from this hellhole? — Copy — Should we check out some real estate sites and find her a cozy little something?
Now that I could take offense Why the silence? — Evelyn chuckled warmly and instantly went on, suddenly full of energy. — But enough stalling. Time to show you the beauty.
Auntie stepped over the threshold and returned with a large unopened box. She'd apparently taped over all the labels herself to keep its contents a mystery.
She hefted it in her arms like a relic and laid this Holy Grail at her niece's feet. Then she immediately pulled out her phone and turned on the camera:
Go on, I'm waiting.
Auntie, have you become an unboxing blogger? You serious right now?
YES, COME ON ALREADY!
Okay, — Flora raised her hands in surrender. — I give up!
She picked up a small knife and carefully cut the box open, pulling out heaps of foam and bubble wrap. And beneath all those layers, she found...
Whoa! Evelyn, is this I think it is?
Her aunt grabbed the ashtray from the table and lit up one of her long, fragrant cigarettes. She gave a proud nod:
That's right! A professional camera rig for We're making a movie. Or a series. Whatever you want. Just like you always dreamed of, baby. You told me you had a script, so let's make it real!
Flora's hands trembled a little as she stared back and forth between her aunt and the camera, her gaze caught in a loop. Then she instinctively grabbed the pages of that very script — the one she had just printed to make her project feel more - official.- And now, it turned out, that gesture hadn't been in vain... who would've guessed?
Still not quite believing her luck, she asked in a shaky voice:
So who's gonna be the camera operator?
Auntie exhaled a puff of smoke and lounged back on the couch, clearly soaking in her niece's reaction.
Oh, come You can guess. Obviously — me.
You're You even know how?
I've been watching all the tutorials and even subscribed to this one guy — some kid, really — who teaches cinematography from zero to pro. So I think I got it, sweetie!
Without another word, Flora hugged the big woman who had now become Big not just in size, but in her Deeds. She had always known her aunt loved her — maybe even more than her parents did — but she had no idea just how much.
And that's not even I've got another surprise for you, but it's not the right time yet. First, I wanna hear from you — where do we start? You're the director of this whole movie, after all. I'm all ears. — Flora cleared her throat. Then again. And again. Her throat was so dry she had no idea how to push this lump of emotion down. Because the moment she'd been waiting for her entire life had finally come...
Entire pathetic life, I might add. — Copy winked at her, stealing one of Evelyn's cigarettes and lighting it up right there, next to her — Congrats. You can finally start vlogging about buying discount toilet paper at Walmar... bravo, girl. Go to .. — Flora muttered through her teeth. Luckily, her aunt didn't hear that. Instead, the girl jumped up and began pacing the small room, waving her hands in excitement: The idea's amazing, but we'll need a proper cast — interesting, charismatic people to bring it to So what's the movie about? What genre?
.. well... how do I put it. — Flora hesitated and threw up her hands. — It's kinda hard to define or pin down to one genre. It's gonna be a multi- layered piece with a bunch of twists and interesting... Sweetie, that's a lot of words and very little At least tell me the basic idea? Flora inhaled deeply and exhaled: It's about an acting crew on their journey to winning an Oscar!
Uh- .. well, okay, sounds vague. Maybe I should just read your drafts if you can't really explain it out loud? No, Auntie! That's the whole No one should have pre- written lines. Every actor needs to behave as naturally as possible. Before each scene, I'll explain what's happening and give general notes on what it's all about.
Evelyn pulled a thermos out of her endless purse — the one she always carried around — and asked for a cup. Pouring herself some tea, she inhaled the rich aroma and asked:
So this is basically a documentary? Kind of, yeah. But it's more of a road movie shot in a first- person I know, it sounds like some modern- day Jack Kerouac knockoff, but I swear the idea's totally mine! I didn't steal anything, honest! No need to get defensive. — Her aunt chuckled. — I didn't understand half of what you just said. But if you think it's a solid idea with potential, then let's shoot the damn thing. Why not? I really do think it can work! .. We just need to find the right cast — people with strong personalities who can bring a spark to my… our project. — Flora corrected herself quickly after catching her aunt's reproachful glance. — It's just that, well, you know, making a movie takes more than just excitement...
Oh, for crying out loud, stop stalling! You need money, right?
Pretty much, yeah. — The aspiring director — At least enough to feed the cast. We can't afford to pay them, so it'll have to be a volunteer thing — for the glory of future success. Damn! You don't mess around, boss — Evelyn laughed, and Copy jumped in right on cue: This is She's gonna recruit some poor souls to act for a candy bar and a pretty speech. Well, at least they won't go hungry. That's the deal. — Flora snapped, frustrated that nobody was taking her seriously. — Look, Auntie, if we're doing this, we need to figure out where to find What do you think about checking actor forums and casting websites? I don't know, sweetie… You think anyone there will want to work for free? — Evelyn was already devouring a massive burger that had magically appeared from the same purse.
Flora started pacing, circling the room — until she nearly tripped over Copy, who'd stuck out her leg just for the hell of it. That almost- fall actually sparked something:
Evelyn, I think scrolling through Facebook or Insta for hours would be a total buzzkill — and honestly, it would ruin the spontaneous vibe of the whole What if we… like, made a public announcement somewhere? I know it's super old- school, but I kind of want to try it.
Her aunt, now full, let out a mighty burp, said - Oops- and covered her mouth, then murmured thoughtfully:
You might be onto But where are you gonna make that kind of announcement? Gonna tape flyers to telephone poles?
Flora jumped like she'd been struck by lightning.
Whoa! That's genius! We'll print out flyers and slap 'em on Something like:
If you feel misunderstood by the world of Art, then you belong with Us! We're filming a movie about Real People — no filters, no fake smiles, just pure love for - And we'll add that the casting will happen in Lorenzo's garage. It's just sitting empty anyway, so let's make it useful. I'll put the address on the bottom. What do you think? That is the saddest thing I've ever If misery had a physical form, it would be your idea. — Copy shook her head. But Evelyn, as always, saw things differently: Let's give it a Who knows, something might come of it. And even if it doesn't — it's still fun to play at making movies!