A beautifully grounded memoir about a family navigating the soul-crushing bureaucracy of resettlement in 2051 Toronto. An immigrant story drawn by its own protagonist, told with absolute restraint and warmth.

Pay attention to the friction on the page.

A subtle wrongness starts to creep in. A star chart tilted forty light-years off-axis. Biometrics that completely fail to register human biology. We string the reader along with the familiar, mundane struggles of crossing terrestrial borders right up until the three a.m. phone call that reveals the truth: they are the last survivors of a solar system swallowed by a black hole.

This is stealth science fiction. You can pull more truth out of a redacted immigration form than a hundred glossy space operas. You have complete latitude on casting and visual identity. The final reveal must reframe every single page that came before it.

The full script is enclosed. Eight pages. Palette and re-read architecture are noted in the text. If you need more, send a transmission.

R.H.