
Int: the Gastronomy Institute, seclusion chamber.
FRANK is in the room, alone. He is sitting in a special chair, his limp frame propped up by various wires and contraptions. The chair sits inside a complex, oval MEDICAL POD that monitors his existence. FRANK’s mind is connected to gastronomical devices through a tube sticking out of his brain stem. His hands are bandaged, his skin is pale, and his eyes are completely white. He sings-
FRANK
Ho hum, diddle and dumb –
Singing a soong in a hospital roongm –
Where is the future, where is the past? –
Have the vultures made off with my mystical staff? –
Staff in the sense of personnel, you see –
Not a magic cane that could delight you and me.
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