KAUFMAN
ANTKIND
Notes
HOLEKLOTT
KAUFMAN
ANTKIND
NOTES
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CONTENTS
THE
AUTHOR ………………………………………………………………….… 1
PLOT
SUMMARY ………………………………………………………………... 2
HISTORICAL
BACKGROUND ………………………………………………… 3
CHARACTER LIST ………………………………………………………............ 5
o CHAPTER 1 ……………………………………………………….... 8
o CHAPTER 2 ……………………………………………………….... 9
o CHAPTER 3 …………………………………………...…………… 11
o CHAPTER 4 ………………………………...…………………….... 12
o CHAPTER 5 ……………………...………………………………… 14
o CHAPTER 6 ………………………………...……………………… 15
o CHAPTER 7 ……………………………………………...………… 20
o CHAPTER 8 …………………………………...…………………… 21
o CHAPTER 9 ………………………...……………………………… 22
o CHAPTER 10 …………………………………………………...….. 24
o CHAPTER 11 ………………………………………...…………….. 25
o CHAPTER 12 ……………………………...……………………….. 26
o CHAPTER 13 …………………...………………………………….. 28
o CHAPTER 14 ………………………………………...…………….. 29
o CHAPTER 15 ……………………………...……………………….. 31
o CHAPTER 16 ………………………………...…………………….. 31
o CHAPTER 17 ………………………………...…………………….. 32
o CHAPTER 18 ………………………...…………………………….. 33
o CHAPTER 19 ……………………...............……………………….. 35
o CHAPTER 20 ………………………...............…………………….. 36
o CHAPTER 21 ………………………………………...…………….. 38
o CHAPTER 22 ……………………………………………...……….. 39
o CHAPTER 23 …………………………………………...………….. 40
o CHAPTER 24 ………………………………………………...…….. 40
o CHAPTER 25 …………………………………………...………….. 42
o CHAPTER 26 …………………………………………...………….. 43
o CHAPTER 27 ………………………………………………………. 44
o CHAPTER 28 ………………………………………………………. 45
o CHAPTER 29 ……………………………………………………..... 46
o CHAPTER 30 ………………………………………………………. 47
o CHAPTER 31 ………………………………………………………. 47
o CHAPTER 32 ………………………………………………………. 48
o CHAPTER 33 ………………………………………………………. 49
o CHAPTER 34 ………………………………………………………..49
o CHAPTER 35 ……………………………………………...……….. 50
o CHAPTER 36 …………………………………...………………….. 51
o CHAPTER 37 …………………………………………...………….. 52
o CHAPTER 38 ………………………………………...…………….. 52
o CHAPTER 39 ……………………………………………...……….. 53
o CHAPTER 40 ……………………………………………...……….. 54
o CHAPTER 41 ……………………………………...............……….. 56
o CHAPTER 42 …………………………………………………...….. 57
o CHAPTER 43 …………………………………………………...….. 59
o CHAPTER 44 ………………………………………………...…….. 60
o CHAPTER 45 …………………………………………………...….. 61
o CHAPTER 46 ………………………………………………...…….. 64
o CHAPTER 47 ………………………………………………...…….. 68
o CHAPTER 48 ………………………………………………………. 69
o CHAPTER 49 ………………………………………………...…….. 69
o CHAPTER 50 ………………………………………………...…….. 70
o CHAPTER 51 ………………………………………………...…….. 70
o CHAPTER 52 ……………………………………………...……….. 71
o CHAPTER 53 ………………………………………………...…….. 71
o CHAPTER 54 ………………………………………………...…….. 72
o CHAPTER 55 …………………………………………………...….. 72
o CHAPTER 56 ………………………………………………...…….. 73
o CHAPTER 57 ……………………………………………………..... 73
o CHAPTER 58 ……………………………………………………..... 74
o CHAPTER 59 …………………………………………………...….. 74
o CHAPTER 60 …………………………………………………...….. 75
o CHAPTER 61 …………………………………………………...….. 76
o CHAPTER 62 ………………………………………………...…….. 76
o CHAPTER 63 ………………………………………………...…….. 76
o CHAPTER 64 ………………………………………………...…….. 77
o CHAPTER 65 ………………………………………………...…….. 77
o CHAPTER 66 ………………………………………………...…….. 77
o CHAPTER 67 ………………………………………………...…….. 78
o CHAPTER 68 ………………………………………………...…….. 79
o CHAPTER 69 …………………………………………………...….. 79
o CHAPTER 70 …………………………………………………...….. 80
o CHAPTER 71 …………………………………………………...….. 80
o CHAPTER 72 ………………………………………………...…….. 80
o CHAPTER 73 …………………………………………………...….. 81
o CHAPTER 74 …………………………………………………...….. 81
o CHAPTER 75 ……………………………………………………..... 82
o CHAPTER 76 ……………………………………………………..... 82
o CHAPTER 77 ……………………………………………………..... 83
o CHAPTER 78 ……………………………………………………..... 84
o CHAPTER 79 …………………………………………………...….. 84
o CHAPTER 80 ………………………………………………...…….. 85
o CHAPTER 81 ……………………………………………………..... 86
o CHAPTER 82 …………………………………………………...….. 87
o CHAPTER 83 ……………………………………………………..... 87
o CHAPTER 84 ……………………………………………………..... 88
o CHAPTER 85 ……………………………………………………..... 90
o CHAPTER 86 …………………………………………………...….. 90
o CHAPTER 87 ……………………………………………………..... 91
o CHAPTER 88 …………………………………………………......... 91
o CHAPTER 89 ……………………………………………………..... 92
o CHAPTER 90 ……………………………………………………..... 92
CHARACTER
STUDIES
o B. …………………………………………………………………..... 94
o Ingo Cuthbert ("Deep Thought") ……………………….................... 97
o President Trunk …………………………………………………....... 99
o Robot Trunk ……………………………………………………….. 100
MAJOR THEMES ……………………………………………………………...... 104
ESSAY QUESTIONS …………………………………………………………..... 107
SUGGESTED READINGS …………………………………………………........ 109
1
THE AUTHOR
Charlie Kaufman is an acclaimed American
writer known for his unique blend of science fiction, surrealism, and biting
political satire. His novels often explore themes of power, identity, and
manipulation, using futuristic or dystopian settings to mirror contemporary
anxieties about technology, media, and societal control. Kaufman’s work
challenges traditional storytelling, frequently blurring the lines between
reality and fantasy, drawing readers into narratives that are at once absurd,
darkly humorous, and deeply philosophical.
Born and raised in New York, Kaufman’s
early exposure to literature and philosophy shaped his distinct narrative
style. His upbringing, alongside his identical twin brother Donald, played a
significant role in his life and work. Donald’s untimely death is said to have
deeply affected Kaufman, with some speculating that the larger-than-life
character of Trunk in Antkind is, in part, a reflection of Donald. This
personal connection adds a layer of complexity to Kaufman’s exploration of
identity and ego, as his fiction often delves into themes of selfhood and the
consequences of unchecked power.
Within the genre of science fiction,
Kaufman has carved out a significant niche, using the speculative to critique
real-world issues, especially around politics and technology. His works often
feature dystopian worlds where individuals are trapped in systems of control
and deception, reflecting his fascination with the fragility of personal agency
in the face of larger societal forces.
Kaufman’s standing in science fiction is
solidified by his ability to combine existential inquiry with satire, offering
readers stories that are as thought-provoking as they are entertaining. His
works appeal to both science fiction aficionados and those drawn to the genre’s
potential for exploring the human condition.
2
PLOT
SUMMARY
In a dystopian near-future, Antkind unfolds as
an unrelenting nightmare from which the world can never awaken. The novel opens
with a surreal and prophetic vision: President Donald J. Trunk, a bombastic and
deeply narcissistic leader, falls in love with a robot replica of himself in
the Hall of Presidents. Together, they conspire to escape the confines of
reality, but before they succeed, Trunk is assassinated. The Deep State, a
shadowy and omnipresent force, seamlessly replaces him with the robot, who
takes on Trunk’s public duties without anyone realizing it. This bizarre
chapter, however, is revealed to be a dream—a twisted foreshadowing of what is
to come.
The novel’s protagonist and narrator, B., is an
activist film critic who, driven by an unspecified mission, infiltrates Trunk’s
White House staff. Unbeknownst to B., his true purpose is to bring down Trunk,
though the specifics of how or why remain elusive, shrouded in ambiguity and
misdirection. B. is both a voyeur and a participant in the chaos, slowly drawn
deeper into the heart of the administration’s dysfunction. His reflections on
Trunk's reign—a grotesque and tragic parody of leadership—form the backbone of
the novel.
Throughout the book, Trunk’s quixotic quest to
"drain the swamp" becomes an impossible mission, more akin to chasing
windmills than achieving reform. He is trapped in his own hubris and desires,
incapable of seeing the forces that manipulate him. The swamp, as it turns out,
is not a thing to be drained—it is the system itself, an endlessly recurring
cycle of corruption that feeds on those who attempt to change it. The deeper
Trunk goes, the more he becomes ensnared in his own tragic flaws: lust, power,
and an oedipal obsession with his own image.
Trunk’s dreams form a recurrent motif throughout the
novel, each one more grotesque and foreboding than the last, all variations on
a theme of his eventual downfall. They bleed into reality, warping time and
perception as the line between the man and the machine begins to blur. The
reader is never quite sure where the dreams end and where Trunk’s waking life
begins, creating a recursive loop of impending doom. B. becomes both witness
and accomplice to the President’s unraveling, each dream another step toward
the inevitable assassination that Trunk, in some ways, seems to desire.
As Trunk's presidency lurches toward collapse, B.'s
role shifts from passive observer to reluctant agent of fate. His personal
mission, once unclear, now converges with the unfolding tragedy. The Deep
State, however, is always one step ahead, orchestrating the chaos from behind
the scenes. In a chilling final act, the robot replica from Trunk’s dream
seamlessly steps into power, continuing the regime in an eerily mechanical
fashion, as though nothing has changed at all.
The novel concludes with B. realizing that the
nightmare is endless. The world has fallen under the rule of a soulless,
inhuman automaton that no one can distinguish from the man who once lived. In
the end, Trunk’s death—and the question of whether the real Trunk ever truly
existed—becomes a minor detail in the grander horror: the swamp will never be
drained, and the nightmare will never end.
3
HISTORICAL
BACKGROUND
Antkind was published in
the summer of 2020, a moment of immense political and cultural upheaval in the
United States and around the world. The novel’s satirical portrayal of politics
and power reflects the anxieties and tensions that had been building throughout
the late 2010s, particularly during the presidency of Donald J. Trump. While
the novel presents a dystopian vision, its parallels to the real
world—especially Trump’s presidency—are clear, making it a sharp critique of
contemporary political dynamics.
The Trump Presidency and Political
Polarization
Donald Trump's election in 2016 marked a significant
departure from traditional political norms, resulting in an era of intense
polarization and the rise of populist movements. His unfiltered use of social
media, particularly Twitter, his combative relationship with the press, and his
rhetoric about "draining the swamp" redefined the nature of political
leadership. These themes resonate throughout Antkind, with President
Trunk serving as a surreal and exaggerated reflection of Trump’s persona.
The novel opens with Trunk sending cryptic, impulsive
tweets from bed—much like the real-life Trump, who used Twitter to shape
narratives, launch attacks, and disrupt political discourse. Trunk’s
self-obsession and absurd governance, which borders on the ridiculous, mirror
the unpredictability and chaos that came to define Trump's presidency. The
novel captures the sense of spectacle surrounding Trump, blending it with
farcical elements that emphasize how the line between reality and performance
blurred during his tenure.
Technological Anxiety and Disinformation
During Trump’s presidency, concerns about
technology—particularly social media—escalated. Platforms like Twitter and
Facebook became central to political discourse, but also to the spread of
disinformation and the erosion of trust in media and institutions. This anxiety
is reflected in Antkind through the creation of robot Trunk, an
animatronic replica designed to deceive the public after Trunk’s assassination.
The mechanical Trunk symbolizes the fear that truth can be manufactured, that
technology can not only shape reality but also replace it entirely.
This theme speaks to a broader cultural concern about
the role of artificial intelligence, deepfakes, and the manipulation of truth
in the digital age. The novel’s dystopian world, in which a robotic leader can
stand in for the real thing without the public noticing, reflects fears of how
political reality can be controlled and distorted in a technologically advanced
society. This was particularly relevant in a time when “fake news” and
conspiracy theories gained traction and altered public perception of events.
Populism and Anti-Establishment Sentiment
The rise of populism, embodied in Trump’s presidency, is another key theme that Antkind explores. Much like Trump, Trunk positions himself as an outsider intent on dismantling a corrupt
4
political establishment. His promise to “drain
the swamp” resonates with the anti-establishment sentiments that fueled Trump’s
rise. However, in Kaufman’s novel, this mission becomes absurdly quixotic,
underscoring the impossibility of one person taking on such a deeply ingrained
system, particularly when that person is as self-absorbed as Trunk.
This satire on populism reveals the contradictions
within these movements—the desire for radical change often coming from figures
who themselves represent the excesses and flaws they claim to oppose. Trunk’s
inability to actually drain the swamp, despite the constant praise he receives
for supposedly doing so, highlights the cyclical nature of corruption and the
futility of attempting to reform a system from within while being complicit in
it.
Political Satire in the Age of Trump
Antkind stands in the
tradition of political satire, using absurdity and exaggeration to comment on
the state of American politics. In the same way that George Orwell’s Animal
Farm critiqued totalitarianism or Joseph Heller’s Catch-22 skewered
bureaucratic madness, Kaufman’s novel uses the surreal figure of President
Trunk to expose the farcical nature of power, ego, and governance.
While the novel’s events are wildly fantastical—Trunk
falling in love with his own robotic double, the chaotic mishaps of his staff,
and the conspiracies that surround him—these elements serve to amplify the
inherent absurdities of real-world politics. Trunk’s over-the-top narcissism,
his reliance on deception, and his bizarre relationship with reality mirror the
surreal atmosphere that often surrounded Trump’s presidency. The novel’s dark
humor and absurdity provide a lens through which readers can understand the
often bewildering and unpredictable nature of contemporary political life.
Pandemic and Sociopolitical Context
Although Antkind was published in 2020, during
the height of the COVID-19 pandemic, its themes take on an added layer of
resonance given the broader context of societal disruption. The pandemic, which
exposed weaknesses in global leadership, institutional trust, and government
response, amplified the sense of disillusionment that had been simmering for
years. The novel’s depiction of a government ruled by deception, absurdity, and
dysfunction struck a chord with readers grappling with real-life leadership failures
during a time of crisis.
In the context of the pandemic, the novel’s
exploration of political chaos and unqualified leadership took on new
significance. The image of Trunk—deluded and incompetent, yet adored by a
significant portion of the population—reflects the public’s grappling with
leaders who often seemed out of touch with the realities of governance,
particularly in moments of crisis.
Conclusion
Antkind emerges as a
cultural artifact shaped by the political and technological anxieties of its
time. The Trump presidency, with its unprecedented challenges to norms and
institutions, provided fertile ground for a satirical exploration of power,
self-obsession, and deception. Kaufman’s novel reflects the deep concerns of an
era defined by populism, disinformation, and the erosion of truth, offering a
dystopian vision that mirrors the absurdities of the real world while
critiquing the ways in which technology and politics have become intertwined.
5
CHARACTER
LIST
- B.
An activist film critic who finds himself unwittingly drawn into a conspiracy to assassinate Trunk. B. starts off as a naive idealist, critical of the political and media systems, but is hypnotized during a visit to a Slammy's drive-thru, transforming him into an unwitting pawn in a grand political scheme. B. represents the everyman, caught in forces far beyond his understanding. - Ingo
Cuthbert ("Deep Thought")
The brilliant yet manipulative inventor of robot Trunk and a mastermind behind Trunk’s eventual assassination. Ingo is a double agent with ties to powerful shadow organizations, subtly orchestrating events while maintaining control over key figures. He manipulates B., using hypnosis to turn him into a tool for his plot against Trunk. Ingo’s intelligence is overshadowed by his moral ambiguity and his dual loyalties, making him both a creator and a destroyer in the novel’s political landscape. - President
Donald J. Trunk
The bombastic and narcissistic president of the United States, Trunk is a satirical figure based on real-world political figures. Obsessed with himself and power, Trunk navigates his presidency with bizarre speeches, surreal actions, and a mission to "drain the swamp." His personality is a mix of bluster, delusion, and unchecked ego. Trunk often confuses reality with fantasy, as seen in his love for his robotic doppelgänger and his wild claims about wealth, castles, and conspiracies. - Robot
Trunk
A lifelike animatronic replica of President Trunk, created by Ingo Cuthbert. Robot Trunk is designed to replace the real Trunk in the event of his assassination. In the novel, Trunk falls in love with his robotic double, reflecting his extreme narcissism. The robot eventually assumes Trunk’s role, furthering the novel’s theme of deception and blurred reality. - Vice
President Mike Pants
Trunk’s loyal but long-suffering vice president. Pants is often on the receiving end of Trunk’s bizarre requests and outbursts, such as Trunk’s demand for the "head of Walt Disney." Although patient and composed, Pants frequently finds himself exasperated by Trunk’s antics. He plays the role of the voice of reason in the administration but is constantly undermined by Trunk’s erratic behavior.
6
- Siri
The ever-present AI assistant in Trunk’s world, Siri acts as Trunk’s Press Secretary and personal aide. She often responds to Trunk’s wild commands with calm and efficiency, guiding him through his confusion and fantastical ideas. Siri represents the technological overreach in Trunk’s administration, constantly attempting to maintain order amidst the chaos. - Staffers
A group of nameless White House aides who are regularly involved in Trunk’s day-to-day activities. They often find themselves trying to keep up with Trunk’s erratic demands, such as golfing at Mar-a-Lago or dealing with his wild conspiracy theories. The staffers are frequently exasperated but deferential, serving as pawns in Trunk’s self-centered world. - Fake
News Media
A collective presence in the novel, the fake news media represents Trunk’s obsession with the press and his belief that they are constantly conspiring against him. Trunk regularly addresses and insults the media, accusing them of spreading lies about his presidency, climate change, and various disasters. They symbolize the tension between truth and manipulation in Trunk’s world. - The
Skunk
A bizarre, symbolic character that appears during one of Trunk’s dream sequences, leaving brightly colored droppings in the Oval Office. The skunk’s presence and actions are part of the surreal nature of the novel, reflecting the absurdity that permeates Trunk’s reign. - Wolf
Blitzer (Mocked as "Blowhard Blitzer")
A real-world news anchor, frequently mocked and ridiculed by Trunk, who derides him as "Blowhard Blitzer." Trunk’s rants against Blitzer emphasize his paranoia and hatred of the media, as well as his disdain for traditional news outlets. - The
King of the Moon
A fictional and symbolic challenger that Trunk imagines in his grandiose visions. Trunk frequently compares himself to mythical figures like Atlas and invents the King of the Moon as a hypothetical rival. This character embodies Trunk’s self-aggrandizement and his view of himself as a hero in an epic, cosmic struggle. - The
Fake News Meteorologist
A minor character who is mentioned when Trunk dismisses news reports of an impending hurricane, claiming it’s part of the "fake news" conspiracy against him. This figure represents the media’s attempts to report on real-world events, which Trunk invariably dismisses as hoaxes. - White
House Correspondents
The reporters who attend Trunk’s chaotic press conferences, often struggling to get coherent answers from him. They serve as the embodiment of the public’s desire for accountability, only to be met with Trunk’s evasive, often nonsensical rants.
7
- Secret
Service Mole
A minor character who tips off the media about Trunk’s relationship with his robot double. This character plays a key role in exposing the conspiracy surrounding the assassination plot and Trunk’s doppelgänger. - Illegals
(as described by Trunk)
Referred to disparagingly by Trunk, "illegals" are presented as a threat to his castle and are part of his fantastical explanation for why he built deep walls around Mar-a-Lago. Trunk imagines them as tunneling ants, part of his exaggerated narrative of defending his estate and, by extension, his country.
8
CHAPTER
SUMMARIES
CHAPTER
1
Summary
The novel opens with a single tweet:
"Covfefe." After sending the cryptic message, President Donald J.
Trunk places his phone on the bedside table and drifts back to sleep, unaware
of the surreal journey awaiting him in his dreams.
In his dream, Trunk is transformed into his childhood
self, bearing an uncanny resemblance to Macaulay Culkin. As young Trunk, he
approaches a movie theater box office and asks to see Big. A golden
ticket slides toward him from the ticket window. Taking it, he enters the
theater, where an usher blocks his path, demanding the ticket stub. Trunk
refuses to hand it over, and the usher backs down, letting him pass
unchallenged.
Inside, Trunk takes a seat in the front row. The
curtains rise, revealing the Hall of Presidents, where the animatronic figures
of every past U.S. president burst into song, patriotically belting out
"God Bless the U.S.A." Trunk's attention fixates on his own future
animatronic figure among the ranks. As the curtain falls and the audience
begins to leave—an audience he hadn’t noticed until that moment—Trunk lingers.
He approaches the stage, lifting the bottom of the curtain to peek behind it.
The usher, reappearing beside him, asks if he’d like
to meet "him." Trunk, confused, follows the usher to a dressing room
backstage. Inside, the animatronic version of President Trunk sits at a vanity,
exposing the wires and circuitry in the back of his head as a robotic claw
adjusts his hairpiece. “Leave us,” the robotic Trunk commands the usher, who
complies.
Alone in the room, the young Trunk asks the robot,
“Are you my father?” The animatronic version replies, “Trunk, I am your
destiny.” Inviting the young boy onto his chair, the robot Trunk gestures
toward the mirror. As Macaulay Culkin-Trunk looks at his reflection, he sees
himself as the older, dignified President Trunk. The robot begins to sing
“Dignified and Old” by the Modern Lovers, a haunting ballad about loneliness,
death, and the desire to find dignity with age. The lyrics echo through the
room, layering Trunk’s insecurities and dreams of lasting greatness.
When the song ends, robot Trunk offers young Trunk a
proposition: “Join me. Together, we can rule the galaxy as robot and Trunk.”
Trunk, transfixed, takes the robot’s hand. They become inseparable—dignified,
old, and in love. United in their narcissistic obsession with themselves, the
two Trunks prepare to run for re-election as each other's running mate.
However, their romance
and plot are foiled when a mole in the Secret Service leaks their relationship
to the media. As they try to flee, Trunk is assassinated, leaving the Deep
State to seamlessly swap in the robot Trunk as the "real" President,
ensuring the illusion of continuity.
9
The dream ends abruptly. Trunk awakens in his bedroom,
shaken but inspired. Without missing a beat, he grabs his phone and tweets:
“Note to self: Schedule a meeting with the head of Walt Disney.”
In this bizarre and twisted opening chapter, the stage
is set for the novel’s exploration of power, ego, and the impossibility of
separating reality from fantasy in the world of President Trunk.
CHAPTER 2
Summary
In the second
chapter, we are introduced to our narrator and protagonist, B., for the first
time through his first-person perspective. The setting is the symposium titled
“The Future of Plato’s Cave: The Original Stage and Screen” held at EPCOT. This
academic and cinematic gathering aims to explore philosophical concepts
alongside their modern media representations, but B., a critical observer of
the film world, is somewhat distanced from the event's mainstream proceedings.
The chapter
begins with B. sitting in the otherwise empty auditorium of the World ShowPlace
Pavilion, avoiding the social buzz happening outside in the lobby. Sitting
across the aisle from him is Gregg Turkington, known for his film expertise and
work on On Cinema at the Cinema. B. initiates a conversation about the
movie Sully (2016, 96 minutes), teasing Turkington about rumors that he
may not have actually watched it—despite his reputation as an expert. B. jokes,
suggesting this might “sully” Gregg’s name, a pun he half-heartedly denies
intending. Their banter is lighthearted but also highlights their shared
frustration with film industry politics and symposium culture.
When asked why he isn’t presenting at the
symposium, B. explains that his proposal, “Cinema Cavern: Towards the
Development of the Post-Apocalyptic Movie Theater,” was rejected, which he
attributes to political reasons. Turkington reveals that his own pitch for an
“Oscar of the Oscars” category never got a response either, suggesting
bureaucratic neglect. The two exchange their speeches: B. hands Turkington the
hard copy of his speech and (after fiddling around to find the emails he sent
the organizers) Turkington hands B. his smartphone.
As the PA
system announces the start of the symposium, Turkington quips about B.’s
rejection of popcorn in his theoretical post-apocalyptic theaters. The two
settle in for the event. Dr. Sophia Andros, a professor of philosophy, takes
the stage to present her talk, “Plato’s Cave: The Original Reality Show?” She
humorously compares Plato’s Allegory of the Cave to modern reality TV,
specifically The Apprentice, which leads into a discussion of President
Trunk’s infamous 2016 campaign declaration to "take Hollywood back to
Plato’s Cave." Andros’ dry commentary draws some groans from Turkington,
who seems fatigued by the repetitive mentions of Trunk.
10
Then,
unexpectedly, President Trunk’s voice begins to play over the PA system,
delivering a speech filled with nonsensical tangents about Hollywood, clowns,
and fishnet stockings. As the speech continues, the large screen retracts,
revealing a figure stepping onto the stage: President Trunk himself.
Seamlessly, Trunk continues the speech exactly where the recording left off,
leaving the audience, including B., in disbelief.
Unbeknownst
to the audience at this point, this is not the real President Trunk, but Robot
Trunk, the latest animatronic addition to Disney’s Hall of Presidents—a fact
revealed later in the symposium but not yet apparent to the attendees. The
seamless transition between the recorded voice and the live speech showcases
Robot Trunk’s uncanny realism.
Robot Trunk
rambles on about how Hollywood has become “too big for its britches,”
referencing outdated TV shows like Home Improvement and invoking Plato,
Socrates, and Aristotle in bizarre, anachronistic ways. He even leads the
audience in a singalong to “Plato was his name-o,” a nonsensical parody, though
no one actually joins in. The audience gradually realizes that much of the speech
is pre-recorded, and the absurdity of the scene becomes apparent. Chuckling and
heckling replace the initial confusion, and the atmosphere relaxes as the
surreal nature of the situation becomes clearer.
Robot Trunk’s
speech rambles through various topics, from Tim the Toolman Taylor to Baywatch
to Faux-nician blinds, a play on the Phoenicians, whom he mocks as the
“original politicians.” B. shouts “Phoenicians” when Trunk asks for the
audience’s preference between “Phony-cians” or “Faux-nicians.” The speech
reaches its climax when Robot Trunk declares that he will take back Hollywood
to the caveman days—Plato’s Cave, specifically.
The absurdity
continues when Dr. Andros returns to the stage and introduces a special guest:
Jiminy Glick (played by Martin Short). The audience bursts into applause, and
Jiminy Glick proceeds to conduct a humorous interview with Robot Trunk, full of
exaggerated compliments and nonsensical questions.
At this point
in the narrative, B. and Turkington share a glance across the aisle, exchanging
subtle expressions of disbelief—B. raising an eyebrow, Turkington rolling his
eyes—as the chapter comes to a close, capturing their mutual skepticism about
the event’s increasingly ridiculous nature.
Although the
chapter ends here, it is later revealed that the “President Trunk” on stage was
not the real President, but Robot Trunk, the latest addition to Disney’s Hall
of Presidents. Dr. Andros eventually introduces the lead inventor of Robot
Trunk, Ingo Cuthbert, during the symposium’s wrap-up, clarifying the identity
of the animatronic president. This revelation retroactively adds to the sense
of surrealism that permeates the chapter, highlighting the novel’s theme of
blurred boundaries between reality, performance, and political spectacle.
This chapter
introduces B. in a setting that combines academic inquiry with absurd political
satire, perfectly capturing the novel’s blend of intellectual discourse and
farcical political commentary.
11
CHAPTER
3
Summary
From his bedroom, President Trunk
summons Vice President Pants. Minutes later, a visibly exasperated Pants steps
into the room. Trunk impatiently demands, “Well, where is he?” Confused, Pants
asks for clarification. Trunk responds, “Walt Disney.” Pants cautiously
inquires if Trunk means the current head of Disney, Bob Iger, but Trunk
dismisses this, insisting he wants the head of Walt Disney himself. More
flustered, Pants explains that Walt Disney is no longer alive. Annoyed by the
explanation, Trunk threatens to fire Pants, only to be reminded that the
President cannot fire the Vice President without impeachment proceedings by
Congress. Irritated, Trunk snaps at Pants, calling him a “robot,” and dismisses
him from the room.
Frustrated, Trunk calls for Siri, his
ever-present digital assistant. Siri greets him and mentions that she’s
preparing for the day’s press briefing, which will focus on his first day in
office. Trunk, uninterested in the details, cuts her off and repeats his demand
for Walt Disney’s head. Siri gently informs him that Disney passed away years
ago, using delicate euphemisms, but Trunk struggles to grasp the meaning. Siri
finally spells it out, leading Trunk to become increasingly frustrated.
Siri reminds him about the upcoming
press briefing. Alarmed by the thought that the "fake news media"
might already be in the White House, Trunk storms off to personally handle the
situation.
At the press briefing, Siri, acting as
Press Secretary, begins fielding questions from reporters about Trunk's first
day of “draining the swamp.” Suddenly, Trunk barges in, eager to share a dream
he had. He dramatically recounts the dream in which he was a young boy visiting
Disney World’s Hall of Presidents—a vision he insists is coming true in real
life. Trunk launches into a bizarre, rambling monologue, much to the
bewilderment of the press corps.
Trunk shifts abruptly, claiming that
the Hall of Presidents didn’t exist when he was a boy because there was only
Disneyland, accusing the media of covering up this fact. He then boasts about a
supposed job offer from Walt Disney to run Disney World when he was 25, saying
that Disney even considered renaming the park “Trunk World” to convince him. He
asserts that by the end of his first term, Disney World will be begging to
rename the park after him.
From there, Trunk pivots into a grand
metaphor about his efforts to “drain the swamp,” comparing himself to Atlas,
the Greek titan, carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. He claims
that while he heroically bails out the swamp, forces from “Chinatown” are secretly
pumping water back in. His monologue becomes more convoluted as he mixes up
mythological figures, referring to Sisyphus as “Siphysus” and describing an
imagined showdown between Atlas and the King of the Moon. Trunk likens himself
to both Atlas and Sisyphus, portraying his struggle to drain the swamp as a
Herculean task.
His surreal
monologue leaves the press corps dumbfounded. After several minutes, Trunk
waves off Siri’s offers to resume the press briefing and decides to field
questions from the White House correspondents himself. Chaos ensues, with Trunk
veering off-topic and responding to reporters’
12
inquiries with vague or boastful claims about
his successes, his efforts to drain the swamp, and his self-proclaimed status
as the most important president in history.
The reporters attempt to ask specific
policy questions, but Trunk either interrupts or deflects, growing more
irritable as the exchange continues. Frustrated by what he perceives as unfair
or “nasty” questions, Trunk abruptly ends the briefing, warning the press that
if they "can’t learn to be nice," he has "better things to be
doing."
After Trunk storms out, Vice President
Pants steps in, interrupting Siri’s attempts to regain control of the
situation. Pants, visibly uncomfortable but composed, addresses the reporters,
trying to mitigate the chaos:
“If I may, Siri. I really feel
uncomfortable with the skepticism, only because this is a big day for our
family. This is a big step for us, and somehow some of the excitement and fun
is being taken away by the cloud hanging over us."
His comment, delivered in a measured
tone, is meant to soften the tension left by Trunk’s chaotic monologue. Siri,
however, remains momentarily silent, clearly trying to recalibrate after Pants’s
interruption. She shifts slightly, as if weighing how to proceed, but offers no
verbal acknowledgment. Pants’s words, though diplomatic, do little to dispel
the confusion and tension that Trunk’s outburst created.
CHAPTER
4
Summary
B. surprises
Gregg Turkington by attending Christopher Nolan’s keynote address, despite
having expressed disdain for such events. Turkington, surprised, reminds B. how
he had previously complained about enduring the awful Jiminy Glick and Robot
Trunk interview. B. confirms that he doesn’t have patience for long-winded,
self-important speeches but decided to sit in anyway.
As Nolan
begins his talk, “Interpreting Plato's Cave in the Age of Cinema,” B. asks to
see Turkington’s pitch for his “Oscar of the Oscars” proposal. Turkington
eagerly hands over his emails, and B. begins to skim them while Nolan speaks.
In the emails, Turkington passionately proposes a new Oscars category, held
every five years, where the previous five Best Picture winners would compete to
be named the ultimate “Oscar of the Oscars.” In a desperate twist, Turkington
lobbies for an exception in the first award cycle: The Hobbit trilogy,
which hadn’t won Best Picture but, in his view, deserved the honor. He makes
his case with growing desperation, claiming that The Hobbit was unfairly
overlooked and should be the inaugural winner, bypassing the usual nomination
process.
As
B. reads through Turkington’s increasingly frantic emails, Nolan continues to
muse about cinema as a modern form of Plato’s Cave, where audiences willingly
embrace illusions. He touches on his film The Prestige, talking about
how the magicians become lost in their own deceptions, blurring reality and
illusion. Nolan teases his upcoming project, Tenet, hinting at more
explorations of time manipulation and perception. But for B., Nolan’s speech
feels
13
themes without reaching any deeper
conclusions. To B., Nolan is just reinforcing the cinematic illusions he claims
to deconstruct, dressing them up in intellectual language.
Frustrated
with both Nolan’s speech and Turkington’s emails, B. pulls out a copy of his
own rejected speech, “Cinema Cavern: Towards the Development of the
Post-Apocalyptic Movie Theater.” As he rereads it, he becomes more certain that
his idea—rejected for being “too alarmist”—is the only one that really
addresses the future of cinema. B.’s speech, inspired by Robert Smithson’s
essay “Towards the Development of a ‘Cinema Cavern,’” explores how cinema, like
all human endeavors, will eventually collapse into entropy. He draws parallels
between Smithson’s vision of an underground cinema and the survival plan in Dr.
Strangelove, where humanity retreats into mineshafts after nuclear war. B.
had proposed creating a literal underground cinema—a Cinema Cavern—for a
post-apocalyptic world, where films would be projected in the darkness of the
earth’s ruins, not as entertainment but as a reminder of civilization’s
downfall.
As Nolan
continues discussing illusion and reality in cinema, B. feels the keynote is
merely intellectual posturing. Nolan’s polished ideas about illusion, while
elegant, fail to confront the real issue: the impending collapse of the
world above ground. B. contrasts Nolan’s self-congratulatory musings with his
own vision, which embraces cinema not as a tool for deception or entertainment
but as a raw testament to the end of civilization. Where Nolan plays with
illusion for narrative complexity and Turkington clings to nostalgia, B.’s
Cinema Cavern explores the end of both illusions and narratives in a
post-apocalyptic world.
When Nolan’s
keynote finally concludes, the audience applauds, but B. is unmoved. He turns
to Turkington, offering a belated apology for not asking about the fire that
destroyed the Victorville Film Archive and Turkington’s VHS collection.
Turkington downplays the loss, explaining that Tim Heidecker had once again
fallen asleep smoking, causing the fire. He reassures B. that donations have
been pouring in to help rebuild the archive, showing his resilience despite the
setbacks.
As B.
reflects on the day, he can’t help but compare Nolan’s lofty intellectualism
and Turkington’s obsessive love for niche cinema with his own radical vision.
Nolan’s polished arguments about illusion, while engaging, seem hollow to B.,
too wrapped up in the very illusions they critique. Turkington, on the other
hand, is hopelessly fixated on his outdated “Oscar of the Oscars” idea, a
fantasy built around the wrong kind of nostalgia. B.’s own vision—the
Cinema Cavern—is darker but more honest, confronting the inevitable decay of
both cinema and civilization. To B., neither Nolan’s clever philosophizing nor
Turkington’s retro obsessions fully grapple with the future that awaits.
As
he leaves with Turkington, B. feels alienated from both the symposium’s
intellectual pretensions and Turkington’s naive passion for film. He walks away
knowing his Cinema Cavern speech, though rejected, represents the real future
of cinema—a future underground, in the caverns of a ruined world, where the
last films will flicker in the darkness, no longer illusions but remnants of a
lost civilization.
14
CHAPTER 5
Summary
President
Trunk is hard at work on his mission to drain the swamp in Washington, D.C.,
though his approach is anything but conventional. In a scene filled with both
absurdity and bravado, Trunk personally oversees the "draining"
process, surrounded by aides, media personnel, and various government officials.
Dressed in his custom hip waders, emblazoned with his name, Trunk addresses his
team with grand proclamations, declaring that no president in history has ever
worked harder or smarter to eliminate corruption from the capital.
Trunk's
method for draining the swamp, however, is both literal and symbolic. He has
ordered the construction of a large, impractical drainage system in the middle
of a park, where bulldozers and pumps sit idle, despite his claims that they
are clearing out the corruption from the city. His staff dutifully nods in
agreement, though none seem quite sure what the project is actually achieving.
Trunk insists that the swamp is not only a metaphor for Washington’s corruption
but a real entity that he is personally eradicating.
Throughout
the day, Trunk engages in his typical bluster, accusing various members of the
"deep state" of sabotaging his efforts. He regularly checks Twitter,
firing off angry tweets about fake news media and praising himself for being
the only one capable of such a Herculean task. At one point, Trunk even insists
that the swamp is fighting back—claiming that Chinatown is somehow pumping
water back into the swamp to undermine him.
The
scene grows more surreal as Trunk introduces a new idea: he will physically
pull the "plug" on Washington to drain the swamp faster. His staff
rushes to find something that resembles a plug while Trunk regales the media
with tales of how he's single-handedly fixing the country, "one bucket at
a time."
By
the end of the day, despite no visible progress, Trunk confidently declares
victory. He announces that the swamp is nearly gone, and it’s only a matter of
time before Washington, D.C., will be free from corruption thanks to his
unprecedented leadership. As the day winds down, Trunk reflects on how history
will remember him as the greatest swamp drainer of all time, leaving everyone
else to marvel at his persistence and “success,” even though nothing
substantial has changed.
In
this chapter, Trunk’s vision of “draining the swamp” is both a literal and
metaphorical manifestation of his presidency—filled with grand gestures,
self-aggrandizement, and ultimately, a hollow victory built on perception
rather than results.
15
CHAPTER
6
Summary
After
finishing lunch during the “Networking Session” at the EPCOT symposium, B.
lodges yet another formal complaint to an organizer about the previous
evening’s performance of Plato’s Symposium, arguing that it defies all
logic to stage that show rather than Plato’s Allegory of the Cave. He is
especially frustrated because Plato’s Cave would have been far more
fitting for the theme of the event. Despite no one insinuating otherwise, B.
emphasizes that his critique is not motivated by homophobia and explains his
intellectual connection to Socrates’ asexuality, though he is quick to assert
that he has an African-American girlfriend with whom he engages in
coitus—adding unnecessary personal details that make the interaction awkward.
B.’s constant specification of his girlfriend’s race hints at some underlying
insecurity or need to defend his progressive credentials.
The
organizer explains that the original plan had been to stage Plato’s Cave
but that someone felt it was too “meta” and could distract the audience by
making them feel like they were watching their own experience. Instead, the
symposium opted for Plato’s Symposium. B., undeterred, questions whether
that decision wasn’t equally “meta.” The organizer adds that at least they
couldn’t be sued by Björk, which leaves B. confused until it’s explained that
performing Plato’s Cave could have been seen as copying Michel Gondry’s
music video for Björk’s song “Bachelorette.” Furthermore, the Shadows in VR:
Plato’s Cave in the Virtual Age workshop already covered the allegory in an
innovative way. This only sets B. off further, as he criticizes the VR workshop
with disproportionate frustration, cornering the poor organizer who is well
aware of B.’s irrational persistence and past accusations of censorship. His
critique, delivered with excessive fervor, has become a recurring ordeal for
the organizers, who have already been subjected to B.’s constant grievances and
his accusations that the symposium rejected his proposed speech as “too
alarmist.” The organizer checks the time, knowing that the special
presentation, “The Unveiling of BRAINIO,” is about to begin and silently prays
for B. to move along.
Noticing
Turkington trying to discreetly slip out, B. abruptly leaves the organizer
behind and catches up with him. As they walk together toward the World
ShowPlace Pavilion for the special presentation, Turkington moans that BRAINIO
sounds like another VR gimmick. B. speculates that it might turn out to be a
practical joke, seeing as they had already experienced a VR demonstration. The
two engage in light-hearted theories about what awaits them, with Turkington
growing more cynical about the whole event.
Inside
the pavilion, Ingo Cuthbert presents BRAINIO, an advanced neural interface
designed to let the wearer experience Walt Disney’s mind. The head of BRAINIO
is modeled after Disney’s, much like an eerie mask. The real show begins when
Cuthbert invites a volunteer to test BRAINIO. A young woman, visibly excited,
eagerly steps forward to the applause of the crowd. She takes a seat on stage
and dons the helmet. Immediately, the screen behind her lights up with a visual
representation of her brain activity. Pulsating neural waves and colorful
patterns dance across the display, captivating the audience, though B. and
Turkington remain unconvinced.
16
As
the volunteer’s expressions shift from curiosity to excitement, Turkington,
ever the cynic, remarks, “This is starting to look like Willy Wonka’s factory
tour. There’s your golden ticket winner.”
Then,
unexpectedly, Cuthbert uses a remote to change the screen, showing what the
volunteer is seeing—The Little Mermaid. The audience is surprised, and
Turkington mutters, “Walt Disney was dead decades before The Little Mermaid.”
B. sarcastically retorts, “What better occasion than the resurrection of Walt
Disney to herald a revival of the Disney Renaissance?” When the volunteer turns
toward Cuthbert, the audience sees that Cuthbert’s avatar, King Triton, has
appeared within her point of view, blending the real world and Disney fantasy.
Turkington dryly comments that it looks like “one of those apps the teenagers
use.” B. adds, “The proverbial rose-coloured glasses.”
Gradually,
the audience begins to stand and wave, recognizing themselves (or avatars of
themselves) on the screen. Meanwhile, Cuthbert continues to manipulate the
presentation, muting the audio, and stepping closer to the volunteer. The
audience watches as Cuthbert whispers something into the volunteer’s ear, then
steps back as time pauses on screen. While everything else remains static, the
point of view moves, floating above the audience’s heads and swooping around
the room. Then, it hovers before the volunteer, who looks frozen in time as
Walt Disney’s avatar winks on screen. Moments later, the volunteer mimics the
avatar’s movements, raising questions about whether the avatar is predicting
her actions or vice versa.
To
resolve this mystery, Cuthbert requests a second volunteer from the audience.
B.’s avatar, Sebastian the crab, which had been motionless, stands up on
screen—followed seconds later by B. himself, who shocks Turkington by joining
the volunteer on stage. Cuthbert asks B. for his consent to wear a blindfold,
which B. grants with a sarcastic quip about needing a “safe word.” Cuthbert smirks,
saying, “Antkind.” Furrowing his brow, B. allows the blindfold to be placed
over his face.
While
the audience watches, the first volunteer is instructed to guide B. to take her
place on the stool. On the screen, the point of view returns to Walt Disney’s
perspective, and as the volunteer complies, the audience witnesses Sebastian
squirm uncomfortably. Moments later, B. fidgets in real time, seemingly
following the motions of his avatar. The audience, while fascinated by the
predictive capabilities of BRAINIO, becomes unsure whether it’s truly
predicting the future or whether B. is merely mirroring the avatar’s actions
subconsciously.
After
the demonstration, B. feels cheated, having missed out on witnessing what the
audience saw. When he asks Turkington what he missed, Turkington dismisses it
with, “Not much.” Cuthbert, jovially offering B. a chance to try BRAINIO out
for himself, invites him to stay on stage.
As
most of the audience filters out for a fifteen-minute break ahead of the final
roundtable, Turkington lingers to see what Disney movie B. will choose,
cynically guessing that B. will imagine himself as Peter Pan. “Go on, test out
the rose-coloured 3D glasses.” B. takes the plunge
17
Once his eyes have had a moment to adjust, everything looks
like real life, as before in the World ShowPlace Pavilion. He looks at his
hands. He looks at Turkington. Turkington looks at the screen. B. looks up at
the screen. It’s dark. "It’s just like when Tim Heidecker was messing
around with VR for On Cinema at the Cinema,” Turkington says. “They had
3D glasses in the fifties. This isn’t new technology.” B. looks at Cuthbert.
Cuthbert looks back at him. Cuthbert, smiling, begins to boast about the
possibilities of BRAINIO. "With BRAINIO, you can be inside a movie."
Turkington dismisses the idea with a wave of his hand. "I’ve already been
in a movie. Haven’t you seen Ant-Man?" Cuthbert replies, “But with
BRAINIO, you can create your own movie. Direct it. Experience it.” Turkington
perks up. “Can it help me finish Decker Vs. Dracula? It’s a TV series,
not a movie.” Cuthbert remains unfazed. "Why not? BRAINIO can do just
about anything.” B. asks how to make it work. Cuthbert says it’s responding to
B.’s mental directions. B. says to turn the screen on. Cuthbert turns the
screen on. B. sees what he sees on the screen. Turkington sees himself on the
screen. “The only difference between BRAINIO and VR is it looks like a
decapitated head instead of a pair of 3D glasses.” Cuthbert shrugs, asks, “What
can I say? Failure of imagination? But don’t take my word for it, I’m just the
lead inventor of Imagineering.” Turkington walks out of the venue. B. jumps in
place and watches himself jump on the screen. Frustrated, B. removes BRAINIO,
hands it back to Cuthbert, and hurries after Turkington.
Once
outside, B. spots what he believes to be Turkington walking the path toward the
World Showcase Lagoon and follows. Passing a sign to the exhibit O’CANADA!
NEW IN CIRCLE VISION STARRING MARTIN SHORT, B. is reminded of Short’s
appearance as Jiminy Glick earlier during the symposium. Chuckling, B. wonders
aloud whether the entire symposium was an elaborate scheme to promote O’Canada!
In what turns out to be an obvious reference to the White Rabbit from Alice
in Wonderland, B. continues his pursuit of Turkington but loses track of
him. By the lagoon, B. glances left and right, trying to spot him. Hearing
fiddle music, B. walks past the Mill Stage with a hokey Canadian band
performing. Pausing briefly to check the small crowd, he doesn’t see Turkington
and continues toward the Canada Pavilion.
He’s
startled by children posing for photos behind a board mounted with
transformation masks modeled after the First Nations from British Columbia.
Annoyed, B. scolds the children for their cultural insensitivity, lecturing
them on the implications of cultural appropriation. He scowls, telling them
that this “voluntary pillorying” shouldn’t be taken lightly.
Moving
on, B. sees the iconic geodesic dome and uses that landmark to locate the
monorail station. He boards the monorail and rides it to the Magic Kingdom.
Disembarking, he strolls down Main Street, U.S.A., toward Cinderella’s Castle,
pausing at the Partners Statue of Walt Disney holding hands with Mickey Mouse.
Studying Walt’s expression, B. recalls the likeness of BRAINIO. He changes
course and heads to the Mad Tea Party ride.
Joining
the queue, B. is ushered into a teacup with strangers. As the ride begins, B.
notices that the other passengers are all Tea Party protesters, wearing
t-shirts with conservative slogans and carrying signs. The scene feels surreal
due to the absurdity of the protesters turning a children's ride into a protest
ground.
18
As
the teacups are about to start, Alice’s voice recording begins: "Welcome
to the Mad Tea Party, where everything is quite, oh, mad! To ensure your
safety, please remain seated with your hands, arms, feet, and legs inside while
your teacup is..." But the teacups never move.
The
protesters seize the central wheel to control the spin, but instead of motion,
it’s the talk that spins, with their nonsensical doublespeak echoing through
the ride. B. listens in a daze as the conversation swirls into endless
conservative rhetoric. He finds the scene bizarre yet fitting in its
absurdity—naming themselves after a historical event but presenting themselves
as "mad" while occupying a teacup ride.
As
the lid of the central teapot lifts, the dormouse pops its head out and quickly
ducks back inside. The action repeats every few seconds, the dormouse briefly
making eye contact with B. He hears a faint voice that he can’t quite make out.
“Feed your head?” he mutters to himself. The dormouse pops back up again, and
this time, B. thinks he hears, “Off with his head,” though the voice is still
meek and unclear. Unsure whether he's hearing things or if it’s part of the
ride, B. listens as the protesters’ dialogue drones on, disorienting him with
its circular, nonsensical logic. Finally, Alice's voice returns, announcing the
end of the ride: “Oh, there you are! Please remain seated until your teacup
comes to a stop. Bye-bye!”
Dizzily,
B. stumbles off the ride, still trying to make sense of it all. He walks
through Fantasyland, passing the Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh, Seven
Dwarfs Mine Ride, Prince Charming’s Regal Carousel, the Pinocchio Village Haus,
Mickey’s PhilharMagic, Peter Pan’s Flight, It’s a Small World, Rapunzel’s
Tower, and other attractions until he reaches Liberty Square. Spotting tourists
posing for photos in a pillory, he can't resist chastising them for their lack
of compassion. “The pillory was a brutal punishment,” B. tells them sternly,
“and you’re treating it like a carnival game.”
His
walk continues until he arrives at the Hall of Presidents. B. watches the
presentation, occasionally making sarcastic comments about the robotic
speeches. As the curtain falls and the audience begins to leave, B. sneaks
behind the curtain, his mind still clouded by BRAINIO. Without thinking twice,
he approaches the animatronic President Trunk and, with an inexplicable surge
of purpose, wrenches its head off.
Suddenly,
BRAINIO is lifted from B.'s head, and he's back on stage at the World ShowPlace
Pavilion. Cuthbert stands beside him, holding him by the arm. The entire
experience had lasted all of fifteen minutes, though in B.’s mind, it had
stretched into over an hour. He’s disoriented, his mind scrambling to make
sense of the reality he’s returned to.
As
Cuthbert leads B. back to his seat, an announcement comes over the PA,
signaling the start of the Final Roundtable: The Future of Plato’s Cave.
B. sits down, still unsure of what just transpired.
Just
as the roundtable gets underway, Charlie Kaufman, the dystopian sci-fi author
infamous for having refused all offers to adapt any of his novels into movies,
interrupts to loudly question the credentials of one of the panelists, Roger
Uklotti. Kaufman accuses Christopher Nolan of
19
Nolan, unbothered, invites Kaufman to join the discussion on stage,
saying, "At least it’ll keep the discussion among those within the
circle."
As
Kaufman makes his way to the stage, the moderator, Dr. Ellen Drake, comes to
the panelist’s defence. “Roger Uklotti,” Dr. Drake says, “as I introduced him
moments ago, is the author of the prescient 2016 sci-fi novel Knot Vent Guru.
In Knot Vent Guru, Roger Uklotti presents a dystopian future where the
foundations of democracy are under siege from powerful technocrats and hidden
cabals. Set in 2045, the novel follows protagonist Vince Kotar, a disillusioned
tech savant, who uncovers a vast conspiracy to manipulate global elections
through advanced artificial intelligence. As Vince delves deeper into the
machinations behind political control, he is drawn into a secret movement known
as ‘The Vents,’ a loosely connected group of rebels seeking to restore truth
and transparency to a world controlled by corporate overlords. The novel’s
intricate plot twists and speculative technology are praised as eerily
prescient, particularly its focus on AI-driven election manipulation and the
fragility of democracy. And—Is it all right for me to say?—It has been optioned
by Zach Snyder.” The audience applauds. Uklotti clarifies, “As producer. No
director is attached as of yet.” Dr. Drake gives Nolan a look. Nolan says,
“Well, as a matter of fact, Zach did send me a copy. It’s sitting on my bedside
table at the hotel.”
Kaufman
vocally surmises that there was some backroom deal to get Uklotti on the panel.
Nolan says, “Backroom? I was invited to present at the symposium. I agreed to
participate in a panel discussion. They asked if there was anyone I’d be
interested in joining me. I thought of Roger, never having met him. But as Zach
sent me Roger’s book with me in mind to direct, I thought it might be fun. Yes,
I suppose that could be construed as backroom. Well, now we’ve made up for it.
You’ve found a place on the panel by way of the front room.”
Turkington
calls out, “Kaufman has nothing to do with movies!”
Kaufman
ignores the heckle and challenges Uklotti on the basis that the title of his
book is an anagram of “Gun Vote Trunk,” which Kaufman contends was intended as
a dog whistle advocating insurrection in the event that Trunk lost the
election.
B.,
still processing the BRAINIO experience, suddenly stands up and accuses Kaufman
of being on President Trunk’s side.
Kaufman,
flustered, asks Dr. Drake whether he should respond. Off the pained expression
on Dr. Drake’s face, Kaufman turns his attention to BRAINIO, which he decries
for its potential to replace writers’ jobs. Kaufman asserts that President
Trunk wants to control the arts and silence dissent. Trunk wants to enable
Silicon Valley to target alleged un-American computers—computers that so-called
radical lefties have corrupted with their hate for this country—and blow them
up. Ergo, Trunk wants BRAINIO to eliminate writers.
B. heckles Kaufman about how film critics are already being put
out of work by the book industry.
Kaufman
muses, “I have this pipedream of creating an organization of artists to figure
out how to finance and support authors—and, you know, filmmakers—who make
things that have value.”
20
Dr.
Drake asks, “Like the now-defunct Shreveport Mantopia?”
Kaufman
admits that Mantopia failed due to its exclusionary focus on masculinity and
toxic old boys' club mentality, and that it’s time for a new, more inclusive
vision.
Agitated,
B. shouts, “No more Shreveport Mantopias!”
Kaufman
defensively acknowledges that “it’s just not worth it for the sake of
cleverness. What that means is freedom from the restriction of finding a city
with ‘port’ in its name, which would be helpful in opening things up. And in
truth, even though our very strong initial membership could be attributed to
the name, it was likely less due to the ‘portmanteau’ wordplay and more to
having established it, geographically, in the south.” Recruitment was less
successful after word spread about the organization’s true mission.
B.
starts a chant, “Critics’ lives matter! Critics’ lives matter!”
The
symposium quickly spirals into chaos as Kaufman sputters excuses and apologies,
the conversation about the future of Plato’s Cave now completely derailed.
CHAPTER 7
Summary
In this chapter, President Trunk
is presented with BRAINIO, an advanced virtual reality device created by Ingo
Cuthbert, the lead inventor at Disney Imagineering. However, Trunk, having
impulsively demanded the frozen head of Walt Disney after waking from a bizarre
dream, believes that Cuthbert has brought him exactly that: Disney’s actual
head. Since making the demand, Trunk never doubted it could be fulfilled. To
him, anyone who questioned or hesitated was either disloyal, insubordinate, or
incompetent.
When Cuthbert arrives with
BRAINIO, Trunk’s sense of vindication is palpable. He doesn’t quietly
acknowledge the success—he makes a pointed statement. Turning to Vice President
Pants and Siri with smug satisfaction, he declares, “I told you it could be
done!” fully confident that his demand has been met. Ingo Cuthbert, unaware of
Trunk’s previous demand and confused by the situation, receives vague
congratulations from Trunk for doing what others claimed was impossible. Trunk,
however, still doesn’t understand that BRAINIO is not Disney’s head, but rather
a virtual reality helmet.
Trunk inspects BRAINIO and
immediately becomes confused. Expecting something more in line with his
imagination—a head frozen and preserved in a specialized jar—he’s unsettled by
the fact that BRAINIO is out in the open and at room temperature. “Why isn’t it
in a jar?” Trunk asks, irritated. His confusion deepens when he is invited to
put it on, baffled that he would be expected to wear Walt Disney’s head.
21
Holding BRAINIO, Trunk peers
inside and demands, “Where’s the brain?” Still operating under the belief that
this is Disney’s head, Trunk is appalled at the thought that the brain may have
been tampered with or removed. Cuthbert, oblivious to Trunk’s delusion,
explains that it’s a virtual reality helmet designed to fit over the user’s
head. Trunk, repulsed by the thought of wearing another man’s head like a
helmet, reluctantly tries to put it on, eager to prove his authority over this
bizarre situation.
However, BRAINIO doesn’t
fit—Trunk’s head is too large. As he struggles to force the helmet on, his
hairpiece dislodges, leaving him humiliated and seething with rage. His face
flushed with anger, Trunk assumes that Cuthbert has somehow botched the delivery
or tampered with Walt Disney’s remains. In reality, Cuthbert had designed
BRAINIO as part of a Deep State plot to hypnotize and control Trunk, but the
plan is foiled by the president’s oversized head.
Furious, Trunk orders the Secret
Service to arrest Cuthbert, accusing him of desecrating a national treasure and
potentially endangering Trunk’s own plans for immortality. Trunk is deeply
disturbed by the thought that an activist scientist like Cuthbert might one day
interfere with his own future preservation, just as he believes has been done
to Disney. The Secret Service, although understanding the absurdity of Trunk’s
order, comply with his demands in front of him, arresting Cuthbert on the spot
to appease the president.
Trunk watches with satisfaction
as Cuthbert is taken away, believing he has acted decisively to protect both
Walt Disney’s legacy and his own future. Once Trunk has left, however, the
Secret Service quietly releases Cuthbert, advising him to leave quickly before
Trunk notices. Cuthbert, shaken by the failure of his mission to brainwash
Trunk, makes his exit, knowing that the Deep State’s plot has failed for now.
As the chapter closes, Trunk
remains unaware of the true purpose behind BRAINIO, convinced that he has
successfully neutralized a threat. However, the Deep State’s plan will need to
be reworked, and Cuthbert’s failed mission leaves lingering questions about
Trunk’s growing paranoia and obsession with immortality.
CHAPTER
8
Summary
After leaving EPCOT, B. drives north on the interstate
in his rental car, a 2005 teal Subaru Baja—an odd, offbeat choice for a rental,
but it suits his low-key, practical personality. As his hunger grows, B. pulls
off the highway and into a Slammy’s drive-thru, looking for a quick meal. As he
waits in line, something strange catches his eye: directly ahead of him is
another 2005 teal Subaru Baja, identical in every way to his rental.
Given how rare the Subaru
Baja is, especially in that distinctive color, seeing two of them feels
unsettling. B. stares for a moment, sensing something off but deciding it must
be a coincidence. Shaking off the weirdness, he pulls up to the intercom to
place his order.
22
He asks for a Slammy, but the voice that responds is
muffled and distorted, making the entire interaction feel odd from the start.
The static-laden voice asks him to repeat his order, and then follows up with,
"Would you like to make that a Double Slammy?" There’s a strange,
almost robotic rhythm to the way the questions are posed, but B., though
slightly unnerved, goes along with it.
As he watches the teal Baja ahead of him, things take
an even stranger turn: the driver pays at the first window but then drives
straight past the pick-up window without collecting their food. B. frowns,
confused, wondering if it’s a mistake or something intentional. But before he
can dwell on it, the voice at the intercom continues, asking questions in a
relentless, repetitive manner: "Would you like cheese? Slammy cheese or
regular cheese?"
The questions keep coming, each one seemingly
insignificant, yet the voice asks B. to repeat himself every time. Then it
moves on to fries: "Would you like Slammy fries or regular fries?"
The repetition starts to have a strange effect on B., and he finds himself
slipping into a mental fog, his focus becoming cloudy with each question.
Finally, the voice asks whether his order is for here
or to go, and B. automatically responds, “To go,” feeling more and more
disconnected. The voice then slowly, methodically repeats his entire order back
to him, as though embedding it in his mind. Without realizing it, B. is falling
into a trance, his thoughts becoming unfocused and pliable.
He pulls up to the first window, pays for his meal,
and moves on to the pick-up window, where he is handed two orders instead of
one. Confused, B. takes the bags without question, feeling too dazed to
question what’s happening. He drives back onto the highway, his mind clouded
and distant, the strange encounter slipping away from his consciousness.
As B. continues his journey toward Washington, D.C.,
he has no idea that something within him has shifted—subtle, yet profound. The
sight of the identical teal Subaru Baja fades into the distance, but the sense
of unease lingers, though B. cannot quite grasp why.
Whatever took place in that drive-thru, B. has now
been hypnotized—his mind no longer fully his own, quietly guided by forces
beyond his understanding. His destination remains the same, but his role in
what’s to come has just been rewritten.
Brainwashington, D.C., here B. comes.
CHAPTER
9
Summary
In this chapter, we see a young Trunk at a fair, following his father with the promise of seeing an elephant. However, in the midst of a crowd, Trunk loses sight of his father and stumbles upon two large circus tents—one red and one blue. A mysterious carnival worker beckons him towards a spinning wheel with red and blue spaces, inviting him to spin. Before Trunk can even touch the wheel, it begins
23
to spin on its own. As the colors
blur together, they form purple, and when the wheel stops, it lands entirely on
the color purple.
The carnie cryptically claims that “there’s no such
thing as purple,” to which Trunk accuses the game of being rigged. The carnie
only winks in response. Puzzled but undeterred, Trunk moves forward, finding
only a single large tent. At first purple, the tent reveals itself to be made
up of alternating red and blue stripes as he approaches. Trunk enters the tent
and finds himself in a surreal hall of mirrors, with distorted reflections on
one side and animatronic presidents on the other.
Trunk lashes out at the figures, calling them fools,
liars, and a slew of insults. He unloads his anger, berating the figures with
all manner of disdainful labels—crooked, incompetent, fake, corrupt—before
declaring that he has "the best words."
At the end of the hall, Trunk emerges to a boxing ring
encircled by red and blue ropes. His father calls him over to their seats as
the lights dim, but just as the main event is about to begin, Trunk wakes up
abruptly, feeling cheated out of the conclusion to his dream. Frustrated, he
tweets about the injustice, calling it "so UNFAIR!" Still unsettled,
he commands Siri to tell him a bedtime story. When Siri asks what kind of story
he would like, Trunk recounts his strange dream.
President Trunk tells Siri to finish his dream for
him, to help him unwind before bed. Siri delivers a story about an elephant and
a donkey representing the two major political parties in a boxing ring. Trunk
becomes slightly irritated when Siri names the donkey "Donnie," as he
finds it a bit too personal. He quickly has Siri change the donkey's name to
"Bernie," which satisfies him, and the story continues.
Trunk recalls that in his dream his father was with
him at the fair. After getting separated, they reunited under a big top, where
his father waved him over to the best seats in the house for a boxing match.
Feeling nostalgic, Trunk expresses mild disappointment that Siri didn't
originally include his father in the bedtime story. Siri, always eager to
accommodate, apologizes and acknowledges the importance of his father in the
dream.
After finishing with Siri, Trunk turns to Alexa for
further assistance, feeling that Siri was a bit too rigid for his taste. He
suggests that Alexa lighten up a little and interact with a bit more humor and
personality. Alexa, as always, remains professional, offering jokes or calming
music to help him relax. Trunk makes a few playful remarks but ultimately
respects the boundaries of Alexa's role, though he humorously suggests that
Alexa and Siri could work together more creatively.
Feeling slightly restless, Trunk playfully fires both
Siri and Alexa at the end of the night, more out of amusement than serious
frustration. It’s clear that, despite his joking tone, he appreciates their
services.
The next morning, Trunk wakes up in a good mood, and despite his light-hearted tweet from the previous evening announcing the firing of Alexa, he casually asks her to assist with his morning routine. Alexa, ever professional, responds without hesitation, updating him on the news and his schedule for
24
the day. Trunk, dismissing the
significance of the tweet, views it as harmless banter and expects business to
continue as usual.
The chapter highlights Trunk's playful and sometimes
demanding interactions with Siri and Alexa but ultimately portrays them as
light-hearted exchanges. While there are moments of mild frustration, Trunk
never crosses any serious boundaries, and the AI assistants remain dedicated to
helping him, regardless of his tone. The morning after, everything returns to
normal, with Trunk continuing to rely on Alexa for his daily needs.
CHAPTER
10
Summary
B. arrives home from the symposium at EPCOT, excited
to regale his girlfriend with the intellectual highlights of his trip. He’s
missed holding her attention, something that doesn’t happen often with her
always busy, focused on her far more substantial project—a documentary on
grassroots activism in marginalized communities. It’s a passion project,
something B. admires but can’t fully grasp the depth of, though he won’t admit
that to himself.
He begins his story, sharing anecdotes about the
symposium's panels, interviews, and personalities. She listens attentively at
first, her eyes flickering with genuine interest when B. talks about the
keynote address by Christopher Nolan. She can’t believe that B. would travel
all the way to Florida just to spitefully ignore him. “What’s your issue with
Nolan anyway?” she asks. B., avoiding a deeper conversation about his personal
hang-ups with the director, dismisses it by saying Nolan “just drones on about
time and illusions like it’s revolutionary.”
She shifts back to her work briefly, editing footage,
but B. doesn’t want to lose her interest. He tries to bring her back by
detailing the final roundtable discussion on Plato's Cave, mentioning the
unveiling of BRAINIO. “So what is BRAINIO, exactly?” she asks,
intrigued. “Did you try it out?”
B., sensing an opportunity to impress her, glosses
over the fact that he has no idea what BRAINIO actually did to him.
“It’s… complicated,” he says. “It’s supposed to put you in someone else’s mind.
You control everything with your brainwaves, your thoughts. But, honestly,
something about it seemed off. Like, what’s the real purpose of that kind of
technology? The people running that show—I don’t trust them.”
She raises an eyebrow, more skeptical than impressed.
“You sound paranoid.”
B. doubles down. “I mean, think about it. Cuthbert is
basically a showman. He’s like… I don’t know, some carnival barker with VR. Who
knows what they’re doing with that technology behind the scenes?”
He’s lost her again. Sensing her waning attention, B. decides to build to what he believes is the real climax of his trip: the Slammy's drive-thru incident. He tries to tell the story in a way that makes the sight of the identical Subaru Baja ahead of him sound like a meaningful coincidence—an eerie,
25
possibly supernatural event
that’s too perfect to be random. He expects her to be amazed, maybe even
unsettled by the implication.
Instead, she dismisses it with a shrug. “It’s just a
coincidence. Cars like that aren’t that uncommon.”
B., frustrated by her nonchalance, tries to push the
point further, insisting it wasn’t just a coincidence. “But don’t you see? It
wasn’t just the car, it was everything about it. The timing, the location, the
weird voice on the intercom—it’s like something out of a Lynch film.”
She shakes her head. “So, let me get this straight—you
went to a symposium on Plato’s Cave, ignored Nolan’s talk, tried some weird VR
thing you can’t even explain, and you’re telling me the most important thing
that happened was… a car at a drive-thru?”
Her question stings, though B. would never admit it.
He shifts the conversation back to the symposium, recounting some of the
debates and lighter moments with Turkington. He mentions how Turkington seemed
bored by everything except the Oscar of the Oscars idea. “Turkington’s
ridiculous,” B. says, with a small chuckle. “He’s still trying to push Decker
vs. Dracula as his magnum opus.”
She nods politely, clearly more focused on her project
now, and B. knows he’s lost her again. The connection they shared briefly at
the start of his story has faded, and once again, she’s engrossed in her work.
B., feeling deflated, tries one more time to regain
her attention. “Hey, what do you think about watching a movie later?” He
suggests Metropolis, thinking that a film of such historical and
intellectual merit will surely rekindle her interest.
She smiles, but shakes her head. “I think I’m going to
keep working for a while.” Her project, whatever it is, clearly holds more
weight than anything B. could offer in this moment.
B., defeated, sinks into the couch and watches Metropolis
alone, half-wondering whether there’s something deeper he’s missing—not in the
movie, but in his life. The thought is fleeting, though. Soon enough, he’s back
to marveling over the visuals of Lang’s classic, convinced once again of the
importance of cinema in shaping minds, even if his girlfriend isn’t there to
see it.
CHAPTER
11
Summary
In this chapter,
President Trunk embarks on a series of high-profile interviews with Fox News
hosts Bill O'Reilly, Sean Hannity, and Tucker Carlson, intending to highlight
his ongoing efforts to drain the swamp and counter the narratives of the fake
news media. These interviews are meant to boost his image and rally his
supporters, but the situation takes a surprising turn when Trunk stumbles upon
an editorial cartoon that sends him into a spiral of indignation.
26
During a commercial break, Trunk accidentally comes
across a cartoon in a newspaper that shows him, dressed in his signature hip
waders, splashing around helplessly in the swamp. The cartoon portrays him as
foolish and disoriented, but what really catches his eye—and his ire—is the
presence of a windmill in the background. The windmill, buffeted by gusts of
wind, messes up Trunk’s famously styled hair in the cartoon. To make matters
worse, there’s an unspoken implication that Trunk is struggling in his quest to
drain the swamp.
Trunk, however, doesn’t catch the literary allusion to
Don Quixote—he has no idea that the windmill symbolizes a futile battle against
imaginary enemies. Instead, he becomes deeply irritated by the presence of the
windmill itself. Trunk hates windmills, convinced they’re a threat to America’s
skies. In his view, windmills wreak havoc on the bird drones that protect the
country, causing untold destruction to these valuable assets. The idea that
someone would depict him near a windmill only adds to his fury—there are no
windmills near the swamp. This is just another example of fake news.
Returning to the interviews, Trunk can’t focus on
anything but the cartoon. He rails against the media for portraying him as
ridiculous and mocks their obsession with windmills, accusing them of spreading
lies. “There are no windmills anywhere near my swamp!” he declares on air,
shaking his head at how low the media will stoop. He dismisses the windmill as
a sign of fake news, insisting that the swamp is real, his work is real, and no
matter how much the media tries to spin it, they won’t undermine him.
Trunk is especially offended by the way the cartoon
depicts his hair, disheveled by the wind. His pride is wounded, and he can’t
let go of the image of his windblown hairdo, ranting to his hosts about the
fake gusts. The windmills, he insists, are ruining everything, not just the
birds but also his appearance.
Throughout the interviews, O'Reilly, Hannity, and
Carlson attempt to bring the conversation back to policy, offering
opportunities for Trunk to discuss the success of his swamp-draining efforts.
But Trunk, fixated on the windmill in the cartoon, derails the conversation,
accusing the media of being "traitorous ingrates" for not
appreciating the hard work he’s doing. He coins the term
"ingrtraitors" to describe them, a blend of "ingrate" and
"traitor" that reflects his growing anger at what he perceives as their
betrayal.
As the interviews progress, Trunk’s tirade against
windmills becomes more pronounced. He accuses the fake news media of attacking
him personally and undermining his presidency by associating him with windmills
and false narratives. By the end of the chapter, his frustration with the
cartoon highlights his sensitivity to criticism, especially when it comes to
his appearance and the perceived mockery of his efforts to drain the swamp. His
inability to see the deeper satire only reinforces his narrow focus and wounded
ego, while the windmill obsession becomes a symbol of his ongoing struggle with
the media.
CHAPTER
12
Summary
B., ever the high-minded
film critic, felt a sense of duty when he set out to see Get Out—a film
that, to him, screamed "social obligation." He wasn't particularly
excited about the prospect, despite the buzz surrounding it. In fact, he
dreaded the experience. But as a critic, it was his job to cultivate the tastes of
27
the philistine masses.
Bringing his African-American girlfriend along added another layer of
self-satisfaction; it allowed him to project an image of himself as progressive
and enlightened, though he privately worried about his ability to engage with
the film’s racial themes without putting his foot in his mouth.
The mishaps began before they even entered the
theater. B. was intent on arriving early, hoping to scan the crowd and assess
the demographic makeup—research, as he called it. But they were delayed when
his girlfriend's phone began buzzing, a series of work emails that required
immediate attention. Standing outside the theater, B. grew visibly impatient,
shuffling from foot to foot as she typed away. By the time they finally walked
in, the previews had already started. B. sighed heavily, annoyed that they couldn't
scout the best seats. They had to settle for the second row, far too close to
the screen for his taste.
As the lights dimmed, B. adjusted himself in his seat,
glancing around to see if anyone he knew was there—always wary of his
reputation as a critic. His girlfriend, meanwhile, leaned back, unbothered by
their seating situation. B. tried to appear at ease but found himself
distracted by a couple a few rows back who were noisily unwrapping candy and
chattering through the opening scene. He shot them a look, hoping his
girlfriend would see it and recognize how seriously he took his role as a
cinema connoisseur.
Ten minutes into the movie, things got worse. His
phone, which he had forgotten to silence in his rush, suddenly buzzed. The
sound wasn't loud, but in the dark theater, it felt as if everyone had heard
it. B. scrambled to mute the device, his hands shaking. His girlfriend gave him
a quick side-eye but didn’t say anything. Flustered, B. missed the next few
lines of dialogue and found himself struggling to keep up with the film. He
wondered if this would affect his review.
As Get Out progressed, B. found himself
increasingly anxious. He was preoccupied with his girlfriend’s reactions to the
film. From time to time, he glanced at her, trying to decipher her
thoughts—hoping she wasn’t picking up on any of his discomfort or the occasional
nervous laughter that slipped out. B. had been determined to show that he was
"in on the joke," but her silence made him uneasy. He wondered if she
was disappointed in him for not engaging more deeply. He laughed in all the
right places, or at least where he thought his girlfriend expected him to
laugh, and nodded at the moments of biting social commentary. But the truth
was, he was too preoccupied by the prospect of writing about it later.
When the credits rolled,
B. pretended to be deep in thought, his mind already churning with ideas for
his review. His girlfriend turned to him, offering her own nuanced take on the
film, pointing out subtle details B. had entirely missed. He nodded along,
trying not to appear like he was taking mental notes, though that’s exactly
what he was doing. He congratulated her on her observations, thinking that
perhaps he could weave them into his own writing—albeit from a
28
She
spoke with a quiet authority about the lived experience of Black people in
predominantly white spaces, and B. found himself both impressed and envious of
her authenticity. How could he, a white man, critique Get Out without
sounding patronizing or out of touch? He would need to finesse this.
As they left the theater, B. could tell his girlfriend
was eager to hear his thoughts, but he deflected, saying he needed more time to
"process" the film’s layers. Secretly, though, he was already
constructing his review, carefully plotting how to appropriate enough of her
observations without it being too obvious. They agreed to grab dinner, but B.'s
mind was on the task ahead: to appear both woke and authoritative, intellectual
yet relatable—an impossible balancing act for a man who didn’t quite grasp the
depth of what he had just seen.
CHAPTER
13
Summary
Late one evening, President Trunk, exhausted from a
long day of "draining the swamp," retreats to the Oval Office. After
hanging up his hip waders and donning his luxurious Presidential Bathrobe, he
plunks himself down at his desk and begins scrolling through Twitter. His
timeline is filled with praise and adulation for his rapid swamp-draining
efforts—tweets that confirm what he already knows: he's doing a "great
job." Fiddling absentmindedly with the sash of his robe, Trunk mutters to
himself, “What a great job.”
As he revels in his own success, a shadowy figure
silently slips into the room through the servants' entrance. It’s B., the
mysterious infiltrator, carrying a fancy silver tray. Trunk, ever on alert for
threats, senses something amiss. Without hesitation, he tweets, "Are you
an assassin?" Siri’s voice suddenly booms from a speaker, startling B. He
loses his grip on the tray, and the lid flies off, sending dozens of Hydrox
cookies cascading across the Oval Office floor. Some skid, others roll like
tiny wheels gone rogue.
B., flustered, scrambles around the room, frantically
collecting the Hydrox cookies. "Sorry, sir. Sorry, sir," he repeats
as he crawls across the carpet, scooping up far more cookies than could have
possibly fit on the tray. Meanwhile, Siri's voice continues to echo: “Are you
an assassin?” The cookies keep rolling, and so does Siri's interrogation.
As the chaos unfolds, B.'s words start blending with
Siri’s, and soon, their overlapping voices merge into a bizarre, harmonic round
sung to the tune of “She’ll Be Coming 'Round the Mountain.” The
refrain—“Sorryou an assassassassassassassass…”—reverberates throughout the Oval
Office, building into an eerie chorus of confusion and apology.
From the corner of his
eye, Trunk watches B. scamper behind the curtains. In response, Trunk tweets
furiously, "ASS ASS ASS ASS ASS ASS ASS ASS ASS ASS ASS" as he slides
his hand into his robe.
29
In a sudden twist, a skunk emerges from behind the
curtain, squatting in the middle of the room, loudly flatulating “drumpft,” to
leave a colorful dropping on the carpet. The skunk grunts, “Covfefe,” as B.
reappears, quickly scooping the brightly colored excrement into an Easter
basket. The absurd chase continues, with B. frantically pursuing the skunk
around the Oval Office, collecting more neon-colored droppings. In the chaos,
the skunk knocks over a side table, toppling a bust of Marilyn Monroe that shatters
into pieces—revealing itself to be hollow and made of chocolate. B. dutifully
gathers the chocolate fragments and adds them to his basket.
B. finally presents the Easter basket to Trunk.
Inside, Trunk finds black eggs with a broad white stripe across the middle.
Intrigued, Trunk picks up an egg, twisting it open to reveal that the white
stripe is actually a poached egg binding the two chocolate halves together. He
scrapes the egg’s white disk against his teeth, breaking the yolk, which
dribbles down his chin.
Suddenly, Trunk jolts awake, realizing he’s
experienced a nocturnal emission. It had all been a dream. Groggily, he reaches
for his phone and immediately begins tweeting, “NO MORE CADBURY CREAM OREOGGS!
NO MORE CADBURY CREAM OREOGGS!”
As he types, he notices someone lying beside him in
bed. Confused, he tries to remember who it is, but the body rolls over, and to
his astonishment, he realizes it’s himself. Trunk tweets again, “Pinch
me.”
Trunk wakes up once more, realizing he’s had another
nocturnal emission.
CHAPTER
14
Summary
After seeing Get Out, B. sits on the couch,
preparing to write what he considers to be an important critique of a film
that’s already been lauded for its social commentary. He knows it’s his duty to
contribute his own intellectual spin, especially as a film critic who prides
himself on cultivating public taste. Meanwhile, his African-American girlfriend
is engrossed in her own project, something far more compelling than knitting or
reading magazines. She’s creating a complex research piece on gentrification
and cultural erasure, blending visual art and urban studies. It’s the sort of
work that hints at a far deeper narrative, but B. is too self-absorbed to fully
appreciate or grasp the importance of what she’s doing.
B. types out the opening of his review:
"Jordan Peele’s Get Out is an ambitious debut,
a film that tries to thread the needle between horror and social commentary,
but ultimately stumbles under the weight of its own ideas..."
As B. writes, he
occasionally glances over at her, trying to draw her attention. When she
remains focused on her project, he suggests they watch a movie together,
something he feels would elevate the evening. After pestering her to take a
break, he proudly proposes The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari—the 2005 remake,
which he insists is superior to Get Out, mispronouncing
"Caligari" with a smug air of authority. His girlfriend raises an
eyebrow, clearly amused by his pretension,
30
she agrees to
watch the movie later, once she’s done with her work.
Annoyed that his suggestion hasn’t taken priority, B.
turns his attention back to his review. He tries to replicate the sharp
insights his girlfriend had shared after their viewing of Get Out, but
he quickly gets lost in his own verbose style. While she had brought up nuanced
observations about race and identity, B. is far more focused on crafting a
critique that sounds intellectual, though it's clear he doesn’t fully
understand the film’s deeper message. His compliments to Jordan Peele are
backhanded, lauding the film’s “valiant attempt” while encouraging Peele to
explore “more sophisticated” genres outside of horror.
"I watched Get Out with my African-American
girlfriend, and while she found it 'refreshing,' I couldn’t shake the feeling
that Peele’s use of hypnosis as a plot device was tired and unimaginative..."
He knows she didn’t use the word
"refreshing," but it sounds good for the review. He recalls their
post-movie conversation, where she seemed genuinely impressed by the film’s
take on race relations. B., on the other hand, couldn’t help but feel that
Peele’s satire, especially with the Armitages, hit too close to home. The film
felt like it was taking jabs at white liberals who, like him, consider
themselves "woke."
B. feels the need to offer Peele some advice, to show
that while he respects the effort, there’s room for improvement:
"If Peele hopes to make a lasting impact as a
director, he should consider grounding his stories more in reality. The
hypnosis subplot, in particular, felt contrived—an unnecessary stretch for an
otherwise powerful film. There’s enough real-life horror in race relations
without needing to rely on such a tired sci-fi trope..."
He can’t help but think about Get Out in
relation to other films about the Black experience, slipping in a favorable
comparison to Tyler Perry, a filmmaker he doesn’t understand but assumes his
girlfriend enjoys (despite her never actually saying so):
"In contrast to the overly sentimental,
melodramatic films of Tyler Perry, Get Out strikes a much more balanced tone.
Where Perry’s movies often rely on overblown moralizing and stereotypical
characterizations, Peele’s work shows a more nuanced, though still flawed,
understanding of race in America..."
He concludes his review with effusive praise for the
soundtrack, "One area where Peele undeniably excels,” even though
he’s unfamiliar with the artists. He uses phrases like “moody tones” and
“atmospheric brilliance,” unaware of how shallow his comments really are. B.
feels satisfied with his work, convinced he’s offered a valuable perspective on
the film. Meanwhile, his girlfriend remains quietly focused on her project,
oblivious to the self-congratulatory thoughts running through his head.
As B. wraps up his
review, he calls out to her to join him for the movie later, blissfully unaware
that her project, though unspoken, holds more depth than any critique he could
ever write.
31
CHAPTER
15
Summary
President Trunk is in the middle of a competitive
round of golf at Mar-a-Lago, effortlessly dominating his staffers, none of whom
can get within three strokes of him. Despite the advantage of always shooting
after him, they remain hopelessly behind, further cementing Trunk's
self-proclaimed golfing superiority.
As they approach a water hazard, Trunk takes his next
shot, only to watch the ball splash directly into the water. Rather than admit
fault, Trunk immediately claims the ball was a drone, placed in his bag by
Democrats who were trying to spy on him. He insists that the drone ball was
deliberately flown into the water to humiliate him, but confidently states that
no one would ever believe Trunk could hit a ball into the water. He assures his
staffers that when the ball is eventually fished out, it will provide
"proof" that drone balls have been sabotaging his game all along.
Trunk adds that there are likely many drone balls in the water trap, and that
one day he’ll "drain the water trap" to recover them.
As they continue the game, one of his staffers glances
at his phone while Trunk is swinging, which Trunk considers an act of unfair
distraction. His shot goes awry, landing in the rough. The staffer, realizing
his mistake, apologizes profusely. Trunk magnanimously accepts the apology and
"pardons" the staffer for this transgression.
After being pardoned, the staffer nervously informs
Trunk of a news report. Trunk, suspicious, immediately interrupts to ask which
report. The staffer clarifies that it’s a fake news report, prompting Trunk to
allow him to continue. The staffer then shares that the fake news meteorologist
claims a hurricane is projected to strike Mar-a-Lago, Florida.
Trunk laughs off the prediction, dismissing it as
another fake hoax tied to the fake news media’s obsession with climate change.
He confidently declares that the hurricane is just more overhyped nonsense.
Without missing a beat, Trunk casually drops a new ball onto the fairway,
disregarding the previous shot into the rough.
On his next swing, Trunk slices the ball into a sand
trap. Frustrated but undeterred, he quickly declares that there’s a tornado
approaching. Wasting no time, Trunk calls for a press conference, ready to make
a grand announcement about the incoming "disaster."
CHAPTER
16
Summary
B. is working on his
latest project—crafting a list of the Top 100 Mind-Control Movies and
Episodes—when his girlfriend, immersed in her documentary project, glances
over at what he's doing. She’s puzzled why B. was inspired to create such a
list after they watched Get Out together. Her objection isn’t about the
movie’s inclusion, but rather B.'s shallow takeaway from
32
hypnosis plotline instead of engaging with its deeper racial and societal
themes.
“Why a list about hypnosis and mind control? That’s
what you got from Get Out?” she asks, looking up briefly from her work.
B., not grasping her point, responds dismissively,
explaining that the hypnosis scene in Get Out is
"genre-defining." To him, it naturally inspired a ranked list of
similar films. She sighs, frustrated that B.’s focus missed the film’s greater
significance. His list, rattling off titles like The Manchurian Candidate,
Seconds, and The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari (mispronounced, despite
her correcting him), feels like an evasion of the real conversation.
When she corrects his pronunciation of Caligari,
B. bristles, asserting his “expert” status as a film critic. Exasperated, she
stops engaging and returns to her work. Eventually, B., visibly frustrated by
the lack of validation for his list, suggests they take a break and watch a
movie together. Naturally, he insists on rewatching Fisher’s Caligari
remake, claiming it to be the high point of the genre. She dismisses this
outright, uninterested in indulging his hyperbolic obsession.
They finally compromise on watching Jimmy Kimmel
Live! As the show starts, B. comes alive when Kimmel begins his recurring
gag of mocking Matt Damon. B. can't help but do an exaggerated impression of
Damon from Team America: World Police, loudly proclaiming, “MATT DAMON!”
as he laughs along, delighting in the mockery.
Kimmel’s continued jabs at Damon remind B. of how he
ranked the Bourne movies at the bottom of his list, and he feels a smug
sense of satisfaction. His girlfriend, however, isn’t impressed, watching the
show with a distant expression. While B. revels in superficialities like film
rankings and celebrity mockery, she’s increasingly aware of the growing gap between
them. The evening ends with a quiet tension, as B., blissfully unaware, pats
himself on the back for another productive day of "cultivating
taste."
CHAPTER
17
Summary
Amid growing winds, the fake news media assembles at
the edge of the drawbridge at Mar-a-Lago for President Trunk’s impromptu press
conference. With a dramatic flourish, the drawbridge lowers, revealing Trunk as
he steps out from his gleaming estate. He proudly introduces Mar-a-Lago as his
"castle," explaining that when he became king, it automatically transformed
from a mansion into a castle. It’s the law, he insists—"a beautiful law
for a beautiful castle."
Reporters press President
Trunk on the urgent preparations needed to protect the seaboard from Hurricane
Alecto, but Trunk brushes such concerns aside. Trunk asserts that hurricanes in
February are simply impossible, “simpossible.”
33
Trunk rambles about the “shiny” nature of his castle,
declaring it perhaps the shiniest of all time. He ties this into his
understanding of science, or as he calls it, "scisense"—the science
of common sense. He contrasts this with the "comsense" of the communist-liberal
left, dismissing it as the bad kind of science. Trunk then describes the
construction of his castle, comparing it to the pyramids of Egypt, claiming his
castle uses more stones and flawless rocks, which, heated by the sun, have
turned to glass. Proudly, he tells the press that his castle is even shinier
than the sun, and jokes that outer space is just “dark matter” that “doesn’t
matter” because it's fake news.
Shifting focus, Trunk points to the dry moat
surrounding his castle, calling it a symbol of his success at draining the
swamp. He coins the term "Swampington" to describe Washington, D.C.,
saying one day it will be as dry as his moat. But, he adds, this moat will
eventually fill up, just like "Whitewatergate," and when it does,
he’ll make the fake news media pay for it.
Even as the wind picks up, Trunk’s hair remains
perfectly in place, stiff from the product but soft to the touch, he assures.
He brags about the walls around his castle, built so deep that
"illegals" can't tunnel underneath, comparing them to ants. Trunk
muses that he could run an "ant farm of people" under his castle if
he wanted, but reassures the press that his "very stable" castle—like
his mind, a "steel trap"—will keep them out.
As the wind intensifies, Trunk begins riffing on the
term "antsy," claiming he just invented it to describe the fake news
media. He contrasts “Antsykind” with “Mankind,” saying that those on his side
are the latter, while the media and their ilk are "antskind." Trunk
takes a jab at CNN’s Wolf Blitzer, mockingly calling him "Blowhard
Blitzer" and likening him to a puff of air—just empty talk.
With the winds increasing, Trunk warns the media that
when the moat fills, they’ll be the ones footing the bill. As the reporters
grow visibly anxious and the storm worsens, Trunk turns back toward his castle,
holding his hair in place. Sensing the press closing in, he declares that
"the wolves are at the gate" as the fake news media storms the
drawbridge in pursuit.
In a literal whirlwind climax, a tornado swoops in and
lifts Mar-a-Lago Castle off the ground, carrying it away and leaving the
bewildered press in its wake.
CHAPTER
18
Summary
After the shocking news
of Mar-a-Lago Castle being swept away in an unprecedented February storm with
President Trunk inside, B. becomes obsessively glued to the news. He spends
hours flipping from channel to channel, refreshing news websites, and scouring
social media for updates on the missing president. Weather experts and climate
scientists discuss the rarity of such a storm in February, whether it was a
tornado or a hurricane, and the broader implications of such extreme weather
events. Yet, despite the mounting evidence, Fox News commentators
34
claim that the storm was fabricated by the mainstream media, some claim that the
storm is an act of God—a punishment on America for its moral failings, though
they can’t agree on what those moral failings are. One commentator insists it’s
retribution for the nation’s growing acceptance of LGBTQ+ rights, another blames
the “left-wing media’s war on truth,” while yet another points the finger at
the environmental movement, calling the storm an eco-terrorist attack in
disguise.
As the day progresses, other networks begin discussing
the line of succession, noting that if Trunk is indeed missing or dead, Vice
President Mike Pants will need to step in. The topic of Pants potentially taking
on the mantle of swamp-drainer comes up, but Pants carefully evades the
question during his press conference, stating that underestimating the
president’s resilience would be inappropriate. However, when pressed by
reporters, he admits that he wouldn’t want to dishonor Trunk’s legacy by
presuming he could do justice to such a monumental task.
Soon, B. is contacted by a news program, but not to
discuss the political implications. No, they want him to weigh in on weather
disaster movies—a request that makes B. feel smugly above it all. Confident in
his intellectual superiority, B. sees this as an opportunity to critique
Hollywood and its blockbuster trash. When asked about his views on Twister,
he derails the discussion by criticizing its lack of cinematic depth, "It's
pure sensationalism. What could have been an interesting character study about obsession
with nature’s fury devolved into just another effects-driven monstrosity.”
Instead, B. tries steering the conversation toward the
kind of cinema he respects—obscure, arthouse films that use natural disasters
as metaphors for deeper existential crises. He brings up La région centrale,
an experimental 1971 film by Michael Snow, which captures vast landscapes and
explores the elemental nature of wind itself, without characters or plot.
Naturally, the host seems confused, but B. barrels forward. "That’s the
thing about Hollywood, they only scratch the surface. You want to see how wind
can truly evoke a sense of dread and awe? Go watch La région centrale or
The Wind by Victor Sjöström. The Wind is a rare gem, dealing with
isolation, madness, and the overwhelming power of nature, without the need for
CGI tornadoes."
The hosts push B. to talk about more familiar fare
like The Day After Tomorrow and 2012, but B. dismisses them just
as quickly, calling them "capitalist ventures more focused on spectacle
than human experience." Even The Wizard of Oz comes up, though B.
turns it into a platform to critique America’s inability to grapple with
political storms. "Sure, Dorothy’s cyclone is whimsical, but if you think
about it, this current political cyclone mirrors that escapism. It whisks us
away from real problems. The Wizard of Oz is a film about running from
reality—not facing it."
Following his appearance,
B. phones Turkington, eager to brag about his TV spot. However, Turkington is
unimpressed, preoccupied with rebuilding the Victorville Film Archive. “You
should be focused on watching and reviewing movies,” Turkington admonishes,
“not getting caught up in some storm that has nothing to do with you. The
Oscars are coming up, and that's what matters.” He asks B. what his Oscar picks
are for the year. B., still smug, gives a list of his ideal picks from 2016,
which, as Turkington is quick to point out, weren’t even nominated.
35
B.’s top picks include obscure arthouse films like The
Fits, The Lobster, and Certain Women. Turkington, irritated,
reminds him that the Oscars never cater to B.’s niche preferences, but B.
scoffs, believing the Oscars have no credibility if they fail to recognize true
cinematic artistry.
Seizing the opportunity to jab at Turkington, B. takes
a swipe at his “Oscar of the Oscars” pitch, sarcastically remarking that he’s
looking forward to The Hobbit finally getting its due. Turkington
grumbles but doesn’t take the bait, though it’s clear the comment stings. He
quickly changes the subject back to more practical matters, reminding B. that
while he’s “off chasing rainclouds like Willard Scott, real critics are focused
on the films.”
CHAPTER
19
Summary
In a bizarre and surreal twist, the tornado carries
Mar-a-Lago Castle all the way to Fort Knox, where it crash-lands in the heart
of America’s most secure gold reserve. Unfazed by the extraordinary journey,
President Trunk steps out of his castle and immediately demands entrance to the
Money Bin—the mythical vault filled with unimaginable wealth. Without
hesitation, the officials, baffled by his sudden arrival but unable to stop
him, open the vault for Trunk.
Once inside, Trunk is greeted by mountains of gold,
cash, and treasures, more wealth than anyone could ever dream of. Delighted,
Trunk wastes no time diving into the piles of money, performing elaborate
swimming strokes as if he were in a pool. He declares triumphantly that no one
has ever seen this much money in one place, and certainly no one has ever swum
in it like him.
As the onlookers—composed of Fort Knox personnel and
his loyal entourage—watch in amazement, Trunk beams with pride and urges them
to call him "Scrooge McTrunk", referencing the famous Disney
character known for his love of wealth. Trunk laughs heartily, reveling in the
comparison, and boasts that he’s richer and more powerful than even Uncle Scrooge,
whose Money Bin can’t hold a candle to the real deal that Trunk now commands.
Basking in his newfound treasure-filled domain, Trunk
continues to swim through the riches, making grandiose claims about his fortune
and power, fully embracing his role as the self-proclaimed king of wealth.
Trunk speaks directly to
the media, triumphant and boastful. He declares that he’s totally fine, standing
amidst the vaults of gold bars, which only makes him richer. He claims it was a
miracle, that people are calling it an “act of God,” and jokes that the only
way he could be richer was to have a "hurricanado" whisk him away to
a land of gold. Reporters ask if he means Hurricane Alecto. Offering “peace of
mind,” Trunk assures the American people that no storm could harm him, least of
all this one. In fact, he quips, “It was no hurricane, you know that. Just like
I said. Didn’t get a drop of water on me. Tornadoes don’t get named. It’s got
to be wet to get a name.
36
That’s the way it’s done. They want to rewrite
history, the fake news media. No hurricanado can hurt me. In fact, I’m calling
it a ‘hurrican’t.’ No, wait. A ‘hurricanadon’t.’” He rambles on about how he
didn’t pass any witches on flying broomsticks, flying bicycles, or flying
monkeys, which always scared him in The Wizard from Oz—one of the few
movies he remembers fondly, “the movies they’re putting out these days are so
terrible.”
CHAPTER
20
Summary
With President Trunk having emerged from the
hurricanado unscathed, B. finds himself reflecting on the coincidence of his
and Trunk's Wizard of Oz references during their respective media
appearances. As B. and his girlfriend sit down for dinner, B. starts off the
conversation with a laugh. “Did you catch that? He called it The Wizard from
Oz,” B. says, chuckling at Trunk’s blunder. He expects her to join in on
the joke, but instead, she just shakes her head, unimpressed.
"You know, that movie reference was way too
easy," she says. "It's like when Trunk called Hurricane Florence wet
‘from the standpoint of water.’ Or when he looked at the sky during that solar
eclipse and said, 'Wow, the sun is bright.' That’s the level of your comparison
here, B. You're literally just stating the obvious. Trunk got whisked away in a
storm in his house—how could you not think of The Wizard of Oz?
It’s the most surface-level observation anyone could make. And now you’re
sitting here, acting like you’ve cracked some kind of code. It’s embarrassing.
You’re no different from Trunk in this moment, patting yourself on the back for
pointing out the sun is bright and hurricanes are wet.”
B. retorts that Trunk actually said this hurricane
wasn’t wet, hence his coining of the term “hurricanado.” Rather than persuading
her, B.’s point apparently falls on deaf ears. His girlfriend grills B. on why
he seems to take pride in having made the same observation as Trunk: She holds
out one hand, saying, "This is the water,” then the other hand, “and
this is the well."
B., feeling defensive but still eager to impress her,
argues that Trunk's reference was entirely superficial. "He doesn't get
it, not like I do. I was talking about the deeper symbolic layers," B.
insists, but his words feel hollow. His girlfriend remains unconvinced,
pointing out that B. is giving himself too much credit: “Drink full and
descend.”
Cornered, B. responds with a dismissive and
condescending remark, saying, “You wouldn’t understand the importance of
intellectual critique. This is my domain. Stick to whatever it is you’re
doing.”
The conversation shifts
into more uncomfortable territory as she questions his performative allyship: “The
horse is the white of the eyes and dark within.”
37
What starts as an attempt to share a light moment
becomes an unraveling of the tension between them. B.’s intellectual posturing
and inability to authentically connect with her perspectives boil over, and by
the end of the meal, the emotional distance between them is undeniable.
B. realizes, with a sinking feeling, that this will be
the last dinner they ever share together, though he can’t pinpoint the exact
moment things went irreversibly wrong.
After dinner, B. retreats to his study, brooding. As
he scrolls through his messages, he suddenly remembers that he forgot to ask
Turkington what he thought about his Top 100 Mind-Control Movies and
Episodes list. He starts to compose a text message but hesitates, wondering
if Turkington’s opinion even matters in light of everything that just happened.
Still, he feels the familiar need for validation creeping in, a distraction
from the evening’s disastrous turn. He considers calling him but, checking the
time, notes that it’s too late in California. A phone call would be
inappropriate.
B. resumes typing, asking for Turkington’s opinion on
where he ranked The Prestige and the Bourne movies. However, after
typing the message, B. feels it sounds too casual and quickly deletes it. He
tries again, this time writing a more formal request, mentioning his curiosity
about the rankings. Yet, once again, it feels too eager, and he deletes the
second draft.
Growing increasingly frustrated, B. takes a moment to
gather his thoughts and finally settles on a straightforward message, asking
for Turkington’s feedback without sounding too demanding. After some
hesitation, he hits send, feeling both nervous about Turkington’s potential
response and unsatisfied with how the message turned out.
After sending the text to Turkington, B. feels a surge
of nervous energy. Unsure how to pass the time while waiting for a reply, he predictably
decides to watch The Wizard of Oz, the classic 1939 version. But B.
doesn’t stop there. He dives headfirst into a marathon of Oz remakes and
adaptations, moving onto the oldest surviving version, the silent film The
Wonderful Wizard of Oz from 1910. Exploring everything from Return to Oz
to The Wiz, and even the darker animated Journey Back to Oz, B.
scoffs at some, appreciates others, but remains fully engaged in the various
interpretations, comparing each version against the Victor Fleming benchmark.
Between movies, B. continually checks his phone,
hoping for a reply from Turkington, but still nothing. The silence from
Turkington begins to gnaw at him.
As the sun comes up, B. transitions into watching
David Lynch movies, each its own tribute to The Wizard of Oz. While
watching Wild at Heart, B. is struck by the layers of Lynch’s obsession.
The connections, he thinks, are glaring—Lula’s mother as the Wicked Witch, the
Yellow Brick Road as a chaotic highway of desire and danger. However, B.
congratulates himself for being the first to truly recognize the depth of this
allusion, considering it a testament to his superior intellect and cinematic
insight. Perhaps B. is the new J. Hoberman, ready to fill the void in the
cultural landscape with his sharp-eyed critiques.
With this
self-satisfaction lingering, B. recalls J. Hoberman’s analysis of Tarkovsky’s Stalker.
Intrigued by the connections Hoberman draws to the Oz narrative, B. ends the
night by watching
38
its
hauntingly slow pace and metaphysical themes take him deeper into thought. The
desolate landscapes and enigmatic journey further heighten his introspection.
B. expands on Hoberman's interpretation by layering
his own pretentious musings on the symbolism of control and escape. He believes
Stalker transcends Hoberman's reading by drawing connections not just to
Oz as a place of illusory desires, but also as a metaphor for cinema itself—a
medium that traps its viewers in an alternate reality, much like the Zone
and Oz. B. sees the Stalker as a filmmaker figure, guiding others
through the "dangerous illusions" of narrative and image, while the
Zone becomes a metaphor for the act of movie-watching itself, an immersive
world that promises answers but only delivers more ambiguity.
In B.'s mind, the ultimate link between The Wizard
of Oz and Stalker isn't just in the journey to a fantastical world,
but in the way both films play with the audience's expectations. Just as
Dorothy discovers Oz is ruled by a fake wizard, B. interprets Stalker as
revealing the futility of searching for a grand, external meaning—whether in
art or life. He compares himself to a modern-day Stalker, guiding others
through the "zones" of cinema criticism, hinting that his insight,
much like the film’s journey, might not lead to answers but to more profound
questions.
Ultimately, B. congratulates himself for his
"groundbreaking" insights, even imagining that future scholars might
name-drop him in the same breath as Hoberman. Yet, despite the immersive
experience, he can’t shake his preoccupation with the top 100 list, his
unresolved conversation with his girlfriend, or his anxiety over Turkington’s
lack of response.
CHAPTER
21
Summary
In a dramatic turn of events, President Trunk is
introduced to robot Trunk during a demonstration at the Pentagon. The
demonstration is meant to showcase the structural integrity of the decoy, which
was designed by Ingo Cuthbert to protect Trunk in the event of an assassination
attempt. However, things go awry when a soldier, mistakenly believing he is
participating in the demonstration, accidentally shoots @realDonaldTrunk.
Miraculously, the bullet misses Trunk, instead striking a nearby intern in a non-life-threatening
manner.
Before anyone has time to react, robot Trunk
immediately responds by shooting the soldier. Luckily, the soldier is wearing
protective armor, saving his life. Trunk, impressed by the swift and aggressive
action of the decoy, praises robot Trunk, saying, “I like this guy. My kind of
people.”
Despite Trunk’s
admiration, his chief of staff is alarmed by the situation and demands that
robot Trunk be deactivated immediately, citing safety concerns and the
potential risk posed by the overly aggressive decoy. However, Trunk interjects,
showing a clear preference for keeping the robot around. When the chief of
staff tries to reason with him, warning that the robot’s programming might be
unpredictable, Trunk offers a compromise to placate the concerns of his staff:
robot Trunk will act as his personal bodyguard, like the Kevin Costner
character in The
39
song,”
referencing a misunderstanding of the film’s famous Whitney Houston soundtrack.
In the following days, Trunk and robot Trunk’s
relationship escalates beyond the professional. Trunk seduces the decoy, and
robot Trunk reciprocates, resulting in a fully consensual and non-platonic
relationship. The two become inseparable, their connection going beyond mere
bodyguard duty. As Trunk’s obsession with his mechanical counterpart deepens,
he decides to add a layer of fantasy to their relationship, suggesting
role-playing to “spice things up.” In this role-play, Trunk imagines himself as
Whitney Houston and robot Trunk as Kevin Costner, creating a surreal twist on
their already bizarre relationship.
This chapter marks the point where Trunk’s fascination
with robot Trunk becomes a central plot element, highlighting his increasing
detachment from reality and his blurred sense of self-importance.
CHAPTER
22
Summary
In this chapter, B. wakes up to the sound of his
girlfriend packing up her belongings and preparing to leave for good. Lying on
the couch, B. pretends to be asleep, knowing that if he opens his eyes or
speaks, he’ll have to face the reality of the situation. She moves around the
apartment quietly, trying not to disturb him but eventually speaks, trying to
be civil. She tells him goodbye, wishing him well without being
passive-aggressive, but her voice is heavy with resignation.
B. continues to feign sleep, struggling internally to
come up with the perfect, cutting remark to turn the situation in his favor.
His girlfriend tells him she knows he’s faking, adding that she doesn’t want
things to end with him getting in the last word—she knows how he loves to have
the last barbed comment. She lightly jostles him, asking him not to make it so
easy for him to hold onto resentment. Still, he fakes snoring, unwilling to
engage or let her see him as vulnerable.
After she’s left, B. stays on the couch for a while,
staring at the ceiling. Eventually, he checks his phone and sees that
Turkington has finally texted him back. Without thinking, B. immediately
launches into a full-scale text battle over his Top 100 Mind-Control Movies
and Episodes list. What starts as a casual exchange quickly escalates into
a drawn-out argument, with both B. and Turkington taking jabs at each other's
taste in film and trading insults about each other's respective film knowledge.
Throughout the day, B. is
glued to his phone, sending increasingly defensive messages as Turkington picks
apart his list, film by film. In his frustration, B. cycles between texting
furiously and checking the door, half-expecting his girlfriend to walk back in.
She doesn’t. As the text battle drags on, B. finds himself more invested in the
argument with Turkington than
40
chapter
ends with B. feeling a hollow victory as he types one final scathing remark,
but the emptiness in the apartment is unmistakable.
CHAPTER
23
Summary
In this chapter, President Trunk is lying in bed
after a spirited lovemaking session with Robot Trunk, who lies beside him,
gently petting Trunk’s yellow chest hair. Trunk, basking in the moment, reaches
for his phone and sends out a triumphant tweet. He announces to the world that
he has exercised his presidential powers to strip the name of PHONEY Hurricane
Alecto, rebranding it as “hurricanadon’t,” and emphasizes the importance of the
apostasy (he means apostrophe): “It’s a little thing called a contraction.” He
goes on to explain that it stands for “don’t” as in “do not,” making sure his
followers understand the significance. Trunk stresses that the name
"hurricanadont" is unacceptable, as it sounds too much like
"Don" or "Donald," which would be a disaster. It must sound
more like "hurricanadonut"—which he believes sounds perfect.
As Trunk basks in his own genius, Robot Trunk, still
showing affection by stroking his chest, casually mentions that a film critic
had also compared the miracle of the hurricanadon’t to The Wizard of Oz.
Trunk immediately stiffens and declares that he’ll sue the critic. Robot Trunk,
always the voice of reason, attempts to calm him down, gently urging him to
reconsider. But Trunk is adamant and demands one good reason why he shouldn’t
take the critic for everything he’s worth.
Robot Trunk starts listing excuses: the lawsuit would
be bad PR, it would be a waste of the president's time, and it could distract
from more important matters. But Trunk dismisses each argument with increasing
irritation. He’s in no mood for excuses, ready to call his lawyers. That is,
until Robot Trunk finally offers one point that stops Trunk cold: the critic,
B., had torn apart Jason Bourne in a scathing review—a movie starring
Matt Damon, a vocal supporter of Trunk’s political rival. Robot Trunk argues it
could even be seen as an indirect favor to the president.
With that, President Trunk’s anger softens. He
chuckles at the idea of having a film critic like B. inadvertently on his side
and begins to reconsider his impulse to sue. However, being Trunk, he still
leaves the lawsuit option on the table—just in case. The chapter ends with
Robot Trunk continuing to stroke Trunk’s chest, as the president’s mood
lightens, pleased with his tweet and feeling victorious in more ways than one.
CHAPTER
24
Summary
In this chapter, B., a
staunch Bernie Sanders supporter and activist film critic, is unexpectedly
recruited to the White House staff. Known for his sharp
critiques at "Reel Change," a left-leaning film site, B. had made his
career deconstructing mainstream Hollywood films, often with a
41
He’s shocked when a
headhunter reaches out, claiming that President Trunk was impressed by B.’s
review of "Jason Bourne" (2016).
B.’s review had savaged the film, dismissing it as “a
futile, Sisyphean retread, where Matt Damon’s heroism rings as hollow as his
political convictions.” A longtime critic of Hillary Clinton and the Hollywood
stars supporting her, B. had taken particular aim at Damon for using his
platform to endorse Clinton. The headhunter quotes one of B.’s biting lines:
“Damon’s Bourne, much like his political relevance, is trapped in an endless
loop of self-important monotony.” The claim that President Trunk loved this
critique shocks B., who holds a low opinion of Trunk’s intelligence and can’t
imagine him understanding the subtleties of the review.
Despite his deep opposition to everything Trunk stands
for, B. agrees to the interview. The influence of BRAINIO, a brainwashing
technology developed by Ingo Cuthbert of the Deep State, is the real reason B.
goes along with the absurdity. Without realizing it, B.’s actions are guided by
this subtle manipulation, though he convinces himself that Trunk’s
vindictiveness toward Damon—a vocal Clinton supporter—explains the bizarre job
offer.
During the interview, B. is further baffled when a
mid-level staffer quotes another pretentious line from his review: “The Bourne
franchise lurches forward, weighed down by Damon’s neoliberal baggage, forever
chasing a relevance it will never achieve.” The staffer claims that Trunk
appreciated how B. "cut through Hollywood’s liberal agenda." B.,
internally scoffing, assumes Trunk misinterpreted his intellectual jibes as
simple insults against Matt Damon. He sees the situation as yet another example
of Trunk’s impulsive, grievance-driven decision-making.
Despite his lack of qualifications, B. is offered a
White House position on the spot. The staffer praises his "outsider
perspective" and "ability to criticize Hollywood's elitism,"
further reinforcing B.’s belief that Trunk is motivated solely by his vendetta
against Damon. B., feeling both amused and bewildered, accepts the offer,
seeing it as an opportunity to witness power firsthand—even though, under
normal circumstances, he would never have agreed to work for the Trunk
administration.
What B. doesn’t realize is that his recruitment has
been orchestrated by the Deep State, using BRAINIO to subtly influence his
actions. The hallucination at the Slammy’s drive-thru days earlier—where he
thought he saw an identical car to his own—was an early clue of his
brainwashing. Though B. dismisses this strange experience, it signals how
deeply the manipulation runs. The Deep State has placed him in the White House
for purposes he remains unaware of, and B.’s assumption that it’s all due to
his critique of Jason Bourne is simply the explanation he accepts.
This chapter highlights
the absurdity of B.’s recruitment, driven by Trunk’s personal grievances on the
surface, but ultimately orchestrated by the Deep State. While B. rationalizes
the situation through his disdain for Hollywood and Matt Damon, the true nature
of his placement is hidden behind layers of manipulation.
42
In this chapter, B. finds himself fully immersed in
his unlikely role within the White House staff. Despite the menial nature of
his daily tasks, he remains plagued by involuntary memories of the Jason Bourne
franchise, which replay in his mind with frustrating frequency. To cope, B.
regularly crafts scathing critiques of the films in his head, mocking their
shallow narratives and Matt Damon’s performances. He takes particular
satisfaction in these mental exercises, viewing them as a way to reaffirm his
intellectual superiority over such mainstream fare.
CHAPTER
25
Summary
Vice President Pants is oblivious to the fact that
Cuthbert’s plot to assassinate Trunk on behalf of the Deep State is already
afoot. Pants attempts to contact Disney Imagineering’s lead inventor, Ingo
Cuthbert, about President Trunk’s affair with Robot Trunk, deeply concerned.
However, Pants’s staff informs him that Cuthbert isn’t returning their calls.
Pants is particularly wary of the rumors surrounding
Trunk’s scandalous relationship with Robot Trunk. The press has been hounding
every member of the administration for a comment, and the last thing Pants
wants is to be seen traveling to Florida, where the scandal is likely to hit
hardest. Florida is Trunk’s stronghold, and being spotted in Trunk’s backyard
without a clear explanation would fuel speculation that Pants was there to
undermine him—or worse, to engage in damage control over the affair. In a place
like Disney World, synonymous with fantasy and excess, Pants fears being
ridiculed for being out of touch with his deeply conservative base.
So, to avoid recognition, Pants travels to Disney
World under an assumed name, wearing a disguise. However, more than once,
locals try to place him, sensing that he looks familiar. Each time, Pants
changes his voice and gaslights the person, determined not to be identified.
His discomfort grows, compounded by his distaste for the entire environment,
which is so antithetical to his values. After all, Pants is the man who refuses
to dine alone with women other than his wife, and here he is, hiding in a place
as frivolous as Disney World.
As Pants’s staff arranges for him to visit Disney
Imagineering, Deep State operatives guide him through Innoventions at EPCOT.
He’s shown attraction after attraction, and his initial polite interest fades
quickly. The boundless enthusiasm of the guides grates on him, and as each tour
guide hands him off to the next, his patience runs thin. Making matters worse,
the constant soundtrack of “The Space Program” by A Tribe Called Quest follows
him everywhere, including its outro, which samples music from Willy Wonka
and the Chocolate Factory. Pants tries to ignore it, but the haunting
phrases from the song (“the danger must be growing...”) and the Oompa Loompas'
jingle only make him more uneasy. He can’t help but feel mocked by the constant
wash of hip-hop and fantasy. The song’s social consciousness and themes of
disruption mirror Pants’s growing fear that his traditional, orderly world is
slipping away.
Finally, after what feels
like an eternity, Pants is led back to Imagineering, where he meets Ingo
Cuthbert at last. Cuthbert greets him warmly and apologizes for the
miscommunication. When asked
43
what’s on his mind, Pants begins to express his
concerns about Robot Trunk. Cuthbert, sensing Pants’s discomfort, takes him on
a tour of the Imagineering labs. As they walk, Pants becomes increasingly
hostile toward the various technological advancements and exhibits, openly
criticizing what he sees. Pants demands that Robot Trunk be done away with,
though he clarifies that real Trunk is still the democratically elected
president and thus should remain in office. Pants doesn’t want to go down in
history as the first vice president to serve under a robot.
Cuthbert, noting Pants’s agitation, hints that perhaps
Pants feels insecure that Robot Trunk has come between him and President Trunk.
But Pants insists that there’s more at stake than his personal feelings.
Pressed by Cuthbert to come out with it, Pants vaguely implies that there may
be an "indiscretion" involving Trunk and Robot Trunk. Cuthbert
wonders if Pants’s religious beliefs are the root of his discomfort, asking if
this isn’t a matter of Pants’s personal values. Pants, growing frustrated,
insists that what’s happening is unnatural.
Trying to placate the vice president, Cuthbert
casually mentions the possibility of developing a Robot Pants, sparking a
memory in Pants of Trunk’s earlier insult, calling him a “robot.” Pants
bristles at the thought and declares that he wants no part of it. Cuthbert,
trying to defuse the tension, asks if Pants doesn’t harbor aspirations of
becoming president himself someday. He reminds Pants that the Hall of
Presidents is an American institution, and that to exclude himself from this
innovation would be akin to erasing his legacy from the history books. Pants
grows more unsettled as Cuthbert presses the point, warning that any future
legacy Pants might build could simply vanish into thin air.
Throughout the meeting, Pants's discomfort is
exacerbated by the omnipresent soundtrack of A Tribe Called Quest, which
continues to accompany him even into the depths of the Imagineering labs, along
with that eerie Willy Wonka sample. Each step of the way, the dissonance
between his deeply conservative values and the environment he finds himself in
only deepens his internal conflict. By the time the meeting concludes, Pants
leaves feeling more unsettled than when he arrived, as Cuthbert’s cryptic
assurances do little to ease his growing sense of dread.
CHAPTER
26
Summary
B. spends his day at the
White House completing menial tasks that feel far beneath his intellect and
abilities. He’s stuck running errands, delivering memos, and filing paperwork,
yet he believes he’s capable of so much more. As he goes about his tasks, B.
mentally replays scenes from political films, drawing on his deep knowledge of
cinema to shape his understanding of how government should operate. His
mind is alive with comparisons between the inner workings of the White House
and scenes from classics like The Manchurian Candidate or All the
President’s Men, and he is certain that his encyclopedic knowledge of these
films equips him with a deeper understanding of history, politics, and human
nature than anyone around him.
44
Frustrated, B. tries to drop hints in conversations
with colleagues, referencing movies in subtle ways to demonstrate his vast
knowledge of domestic and geopolitical affairs. When a colleague mentions a
diplomatic issue, B. immediately thinks of a historical film that captures the
situation perfectly, but his insights fall on deaf ears. He starts to wonder if
anyone in the White House even realizes the valuable resource they have in
him—his experience with films spanning every era, genre, and country has given
him a holistic understanding of life, politics, and society. He could be the
next Chauncey Gardiner, a quiet genius who changes the course of history
through his profound insights, if only someone would take him seriously.
Yet, no one consults him on issues of consequence. The
more B. feels ignored, the more he questions what he’s even doing there. He
imagines all the ways he could be advising the administration, providing the
kind of nuanced, film-informed insights they so desperately need but don’t even
realize. If only they would listen to him, B. is sure he could solve half the
country's problems by drawing on lessons from cinema. The disrespect leaves him
with a gnawing sense of doubt—he starts to wonder if his time in the White
House will ever amount to anything, or if he’ll be stuck running errands for an
administration too blind to recognize his brilliance.
CHAPTER
27
Summary
In this chapter, President Trunk and Robot Trunk team
up to drain the swamp, launching into the task with buckets in hand. Their
symbolic gesture of draining the swamp—physically removing muck and murky
water—takes on an almost quixotic quality. Trunk, driven by his desire to
fulfill one of his key campaign promises, is laser-focused on bailing out water
while keeping an eye out for what he believes must be a plug blocking the
swamp’s drain. Robot Trunk loyally joins in, scouring the muck for the elusive
plug, providing unwavering encouragement along the way.
As they work late into the night, Trunk and Robot
Trunk become consumed with their mission. Robot Trunk assures the president
that finding the plug will be the key to triumph, urging Trunk to continue
searching. However, reporters observing from the sidelines dismiss the effort
as a publicity stunt, snickering at the sight of the president wading through
muck.
Trunk’s staffers grow increasingly alarmed, urging him
to stop. They plead with him to abandon the search for the plug, warning that
the swamp water getting on him is damaging his image and hurting his brand. But
their concerns backfire as the media picks up on the internal dissent, turning
it into a major story about Trunk’s failed attempts to drain the swamp.
Enraged by their lack of
support, Trunk accuses his staff of being too focused on optics and betraying
his vision. Robot Trunk stands by him, urging him to continue the search for
the plug and stay true to his campaign promise. Their bond strengthens as they
keep bailing and searching late into the night, but as dawn breaks, the
futility of the effort becomes clear. Exhausted and disheveled, both Trunk and
Robot Trunk are found with their pants down—caught in an absurd,
45
remains elusive. Their
failure to find it seals the media’s portrayal of the entire operation as a
farce, mocking Trunk’s attempt to drain the swamp as little more than a muddy
misadventure.
CHAPTER
28
Summary
After the viral image of President Trunk and
Robot Trunk “caught with their hip waders down” hits the internet, the White
House is thrown into chaos. B., however, is left completely out of the loop,
going about his day performing menial tasks without being involved in any of
the urgent conversations taking place. His colleagues dart around in frantic
meetings, murmuring about "Deep Thought" and the leak, but no one
fills B. in. As the White House spirals, B. can’t help but feel that, once
again, his intelligence and insight are being overlooked.
As B. watches the confusion unfold, he
mentally compares it to scenes from various films. The chaotic atmosphere
initially makes him think of political comedies like The Death of Stalin,
but as the day drags on and the sense of paranoia deepens, he starts
considering darker films, like Z (1969), the French political thriller,
and The Conformist (1970), an Italian film by Bernardo Bertolucci. These
films seem like the perfect reflection of the absurdity and scandal surrounding
the Trunk administration.
Determined to indulge his film snobbery that
evening, B. fantasizes about winding down with a sophisticated double-feature.
He finally settles on Z, for its exploration of political corruption and
conspiracies, and La Jetée (1962), a French science fiction short film
that uses still images to explore memory and time travel. In B.’s mind, the
combination would provide the intellectual escape he so deeply craves, and
allow him to reflect on the day’s events through the lens of high art.
But by the time he gets home, B. is too
mentally drained to follow through on his plans. Despite his best intentions,
the weight of being ignored at work leaves him feeling defeated. Instead of the
highbrow films he had envisioned, B. ends up turning on Jimmy Kimmel Live!
for a bit of mindless entertainment.
As he
watches, B. is tickled by a skit called “Deep Plug,” featuring Guillermo as a
bumbling paparazzo sneaking through a swamp to photograph the two Trunks in a
compromising position. The exaggerated splashing noises make Guillermo’s
sneaking comically ineffective, but he manages to remain undetected due to the
sheer amount of splashing coming from the Trunks themselves.
46
B. chuckles at the ridiculousness of the skit,
but soon his amusement turns to shock as he realizes that the parody is based
on the scandal that rocked the White House earlier in the day. He had been
completely unaware of the drama unfolding around him, and now he’s learning
about it through a comedy sketch. B. feels a strange mix of embarrassment and
frustration as it dawns on him just how far out of the loop he’s been. As he
turns off the TV, B. can’t shake the feeling of disillusionment, wondering if
he will ever truly be taken seriously in the White House.
CHAPTER
29
Summary
Sitting at the foot of the Lincoln Bed, President
Trunk is in one of his lowest moments. He watches the fake news tear him apart
over the viral image of him and Robot Trunk caught with their "hip waders
down" in the swamp. Despite being immersed in the coverage, Trunk feels
utterly drained, barely able to muster the energy to tweet through his despair.
The fake news media is dragging him through the mud, and for once, Trunk feels
powerless.
Robot Trunk, lying beside him, notices his mood and
tries to comfort the president. “Turn off the TV and come to bed,” Robot Trunk
suggests gently. What neither of them realizes is that Robot Trunk himself
holds the key to the entire scandal. It was, in fact, Robot Trunk’s own robot
eyes that captured the compromising photograph, unknowingly relaying the
footage to the Deep State.
The image, made possible by the reflection on the
swamp's murky water at sunrise, remains slightly blurred—but unmistakable. The
two Trunks, in a moment of unbridled enthusiasm, were caught on camera, their
scandalous activity on full display for the world to see. Robot Trunk’s
internal scans had shown no paparazzi in the vicinity at the time, but the
truth was hiding right under their noses—literally. The source of the
controversy came from Robot Trunk’s very own vision, an action programmed by
Ingo Cuthbert and the Deep State. Yet, Robot Trunk remains blissfully unaware
of his role in the affair.
As President Trunk sulks in front of the television,
not even the desperate defenses from Fox News can lift his spirits. Robot
Trunk, frustrated by the president's funk, seizes the remote control and flips
the channel to Jimmy Kimmel Live!—hoping the familiar late-night show might
lighten the mood. Together, the two Trunks watch the “Deep Plug” skit, where a
bumbling parody character sneaks through the swamp to photograph them,
exaggerated splashes making it comical.
President Trunk is moved
to tears, recalling how respectful Jimmy Kimmel used to be. "Jimmy used to
be such a good boy," Trunk says wistfully. "He’d open the door for me
outside his studio. I asked him, ‘Do you do this for everybody?’ And he said,
‘Only for you, Mr. President.’ It’s sad how they turn on you."
47
Robot Trunk, ever loyal, wipes away a tear from
Trunk's cheek and reassures him, "The American people don’t deserve you,
Mr. President."
Feeling slightly better, Trunk mutters, “You know what
their problem is? They're homorobophobic." Robot Trunk tells him he’s a
poet.
Trunk, cheering up, grins. "I know it. Hey, that
rhymes. I’m a poet and I know it. Nobody but me could’ve thunk of that. Thunk
Trunk!" He chuckles to himself, the deep sadness beginning to lift as the
two Trunks snuggle up in the Lincoln Bed, unaware that the real source of the
scandal is lying right next to the president.
CHAPTER
30
Summary
With President Trunk holed up in the Lincoln Bedroom
with Robot Trunk, the White House is in chaos after the viral “Trunks caught
with hip waders down” image. A frantic witch hunt begins, with Vice President Pants
personally interrogating staff to find the mole. Pants, worried about his own
recent Disney trip, is desperate to prove his loyalty to Trunk and find someone
to blame.
Always prone to cinematic comparisons, B. is
constantly reminded of one movie or another, seeing everything through a filmic
lens. In response to another one of B.’s cinematic comparisons, a superior
makes a comment about his "unique" way of thinking. B. misinterprets
the backhanded compliment as an indicator of his rising star within the
administration. Deluding himself into believing he's being groomed for a higher
role, B. fantasizes about a future in politics, seeing himself as a natural leader.
When informed he’ll meet with Pants, B. imagines it's the next step in his
ascent, completely unaware that he’s part of the mole hunt.
During the meeting, Pants questions B., who remains
clueless about the viral image and the witch hunt. B. treats it like a job
interview, eager to impress. Pants leaves unsatisfied but confident B. knows
nothing, while B. leaves the encounter convinced that he's destined for
greatness.
CHAPTER
31
Summary
In a surreal dream,
President Trunk is hosting Saturday Night Lügenpresse, a warped version
of Saturday Night Live. Backstage, he prepares for an upcoming sketch
while Weekend Update host Norm Macdonald delivers a scathing report on
“The Secret Trunk Document (Geheimdokument Trunks),” alleging that Robot Trunk
is secretly controlled by Disney and is responsible for the
48
image. Macdonald closes the segment with a
cheap joke about “low-hanging fruit,” drawing a laugh track, but it only fuels
Trunk's unease.
Backstage, Trunk listens in on Norm's report while
getting into costume for his next sketch. His role? A ridiculous caricature of
"Super-Trunk," complete with a tight red, white, and blue jumpsuit, a
cape with a golden T, and a baseball cap emblazoned with "MAGA" in
sparkling rhinestones. Trunk admires himself in the mirror, convinced that he’s
the most heroic and admired host ever to grace the SNL stage.
Suddenly, as Norm’s words echo in his ears—accusations
of betrayal by Robot Trunk, the suggestion that powerful corporate interests
control him, and the final jab about low-hanging fruit—Trunk becomes
overwhelmed. He shoots out of bed, waking up with a start and shouting
“Lügenpresse!” at the top of his lungs, startling Robot Trunk, who bolts
upright.
Alarmed by the outburst, Robot Trunk tries to calm the
president. Trunk, still disoriented from the dream, immediately accuses Robot
Trunk of being a pawn of Disney. Robot Trunk, caught off guard, assures Trunk
that his loyalty is absolute, that he could never betray him, and that Trunk’s
dream was nothing more than fake news infiltrating his subconscious.
Trunk, still unsettled but more focused now, continues
to rant about Weekend Update, insisting that it should be called
"Weakened Update" for how far it’s fallen. Robot Trunk tries to offer
reassurance, awkwardly bringing up his admiration for Trunk’s “low-hanging
fruit,” hoping to ease the tension. This ill-timed comment shifts the mood, and
once again, mention of the president's "low-hanging fruit" triggers a
familiar arousal.
The chapter concludes with the tensions between the
two dissolving into their strange intimacy, as they make up by making out,
leaving the accusations and paranoia momentarily forgotten.
CHAPTER
32
Summary
B., confident after his meeting with Vice President Pants,
strides through the White House with a sense of purpose, convinced he’s on the
brink of a major promotion. His colleagues continue to humor him, but B.
mistakes their sarcasm for genuine respect, interpreting every remark as
further proof that he's destined for greater things.
In his mind, B. believes that his background as a film
critic has perfectly prepared him for political office. He views his deep
understanding of narratives and public perception as invaluable tools,
positioning him as an essential figure in shaping the administration's future.
As he goes about his day performing menial tasks, B. imagines himself climbing
the political ladder, picturing how his career will unfold with him playing
various important roles in government.
In the middle of his day,
B. receives an email from his editor at Reel Change, asking why they
haven’t received any recent reviews, including the "damnation of the
Oscars" article he’d promised. B. had never mentioned his White House job
to them, so he eagerly informs the editor,
49
sacrifice he’s made for the good
of the nation. His editor, however, is skeptical and finds it hard to believe
B. is truly working for the Trunk administration.
Irritated by the doubt, B. defends his decision,
explaining that his time at the White House is a temporary pause in his film
criticism career, not a step down. He sees this role as a critical opportunity
to influence the country, far more important than reviewing Hollywood’s
self-congratulatory ceremonies. Despite his frustration, B. agrees to deliver
the Oscars article, determined to prove he can do both: serve the nation and
still be an incisive critic.
Throughout the day, B. continues to misinterpret his
colleagues’ remarks, fantasizing about his inevitable rise to power. To him,
this temporary sacrifice is proof of his dedication, and he looks forward to
the day when everyone—Reel Change, his colleagues, and the world—will
recognize his true value.
CHAPTER
33
Summary
President Trunk wakes up bright and early, filled with
determination. He’s ready to head out and drain the swamp, bail out the water,
and yank the elusive plug that’s been keeping it clogged. Robot Trunk, however,
watches in disbelief. After everything the American people have put the
president through—the insults, the fake news, the lack of appreciation—Robot
Trunk can’t fathom why the president continues to work so tirelessly for them.
Trunk, as usual, has a response. He explains to Robot
Trunk that it’s not just about the people—it’s about his promise. It’s about
living up to his word. Draining the swamp is more than just a task; it’s a
symbol of his commitment and legacy. Robot Trunk listens quietly, but as Trunk
speaks, he feels an overwhelming sense of admiration. He tells the president
that he loves him. Trunk, in a rare moment of emotional honesty, tells Robot
Trunk that he loves him too.
As Trunk turns toward the door, ready to tackle the
swamp, he suddenly stops. There’s a moment of hesitation, a flicker of
something more in his eyes. He turns back, walks toward Robot Trunk, and drops
to one knee. “Marry me,” he says, though he has no ring. It wasn’t planned,
after all—it’s just the moment. They both look around for something symbolic,
and in a fitting twist, Robot Trunk finds a paperclip, bending it into a
makeshift ring. Robot Trunk accepts the proposal without hesitation.
Robot Trunk insists they elope. They both know the
fake news media would crucify the president if this got out. And so, with
stealth and discretion, the two make their quiet escape from the White House,
ready to share their secret love away from the spotlight.
CHAPTER
34
Summary
B., eager to cement his
newfound influence, sets to work on his much-anticipated "damnation of the
Oscars" article. As he types, he envisions the storm it will create,
particularly given his association with the Trunk administration. B. believes
that his criticism will be more potent than
50
destroying the Academy Awards once
and for all, exposing them as the bloated, self-congratulatory spectacle he’s
long viewed them to be.
Before submitting the article to Reel Change,
it occurs to B. that, as a White House staffer, he should run it by a superior
to ensure he’s not out of step with any protocol. After all, the article could
have significant ramifications, especially in how it reflects on the
administration. Predictably, his superior humours him, giving him vague but
enthusiastic feedback and telling him he has their full support.
Buoyed by this approval, B. starts to believe that his
article will have a seismic impact. In his mind, he’s not just writing a
scathing critique of Hollywood—he’s about to topple an entire institution. The
thought excites him, and he imagines himself as the one to bring down the
Academy, an act that will solidify his place in history.
At the same time, B. feels a small tinge of sympathy
for Turkington, knowing how much the Oscars mean to him. For Turkington, the
ceremony is sacred. However, B. quickly brushes this sentiment aside. After
all, Turkington’s hurtful responses to B.’s Top 100 Mind-Control Movies and
Episodes list still sting. B. won’t be the one to make amends—not this
time.
CHAPTER
35
Summary
President Trunk and Robot Trunk discreetly flee the
White House, determined to elope in secret. They arrive in Atlantic City and
choose a small, kitschy chapel off the boardwalk for their ceremony. The place
is gaudy but suits Trunk's taste for grandeur, even in the simplest setting.
Gold-painted fixtures, plastic roses, and a neon sign that reads “Forever
Begins Here” form the backdrop for the event. The officiant, a bored local
justice of the peace, is barely aware of who the couple really is.
President Trunk can’t contain his enthusiasm, even
though the ceremony is rushed. Wearing a hastily borrowed tie as his wedding
accessory, Trunk gets down on one knee, presenting Robot Trunk with an ornate
ring pulled from a nearby display case—most likely a cheap imitation diamond
ring, but Trunk declares it “worth more than any ring in the world because of
what it represents.”
As they exchange vows,
Robot Trunk recites a mechanical but heartfelt promise to always stand by the
president’s side. Trunk, moved by the moment, declares that it’s the best deal
he’s ever made and that no other union could compare. “We’re making history,”
he beams, proud of his decision.
51
After the quick ceremony, they decide to celebrate
their marriage by breaking into the temporarily shut-down Trunk Taj Mahal Hotel
and Casino, where Trunk recalls his former glories. They wander through the
empty halls, marveling at the grandeur of the deserted casino, but their
celebration is short-lived when they hear the footsteps of approaching
security. Narrowly avoiding capture, they escape into the night.
Undeterred, they head to the long-abandoned Trunk
Plaza Hotel and Casino, where they finally find peace. In the dilapidated
luxury of Trunk's former empire, they consummate their marriage, finding solace
in their secret love, now hidden from the public eye. The night ends with the
two newlyweds resting in each other’s arms, content in the ruins of their past,
ready to face the world together.
CHAPTER
36
Summary
After sending off his incendiary "Damnation of
the Oscars" article to Reel Change, B. expects a firestorm of reactions,
both from readers and his editor. Instead, the silence is deafening. No
feedback, no comments—just a blank void under his article online. Confused and
slightly unnerved, B. sends a message to his editor asking what’s going on. The
response is brief and unsatisfying: his article is live, but his editor’s focus
is on the fact that B.’s overdue reviews—especially for I Am Not Your Negro—still
haven’t been submitted. They remind him that he had promised the review back in
the fall, after TIFF, and that it was supposed to be part of their Black
History Month coverage.
Sitting down to finally tackle the review for I Am
Not Your Negro, B. finds himself struggling to concentrate. He knows he
should have delivered it on time, but consoles himself with the belief that the
African-American community would understand his delay, especially considering
his recent review of Get Out. He convinces himself that this review is
so important that rushing it would have been an injustice to the film. However,
his thoughts continually drift to Turkington. Why hadn’t Turkington taken the
bait with Damnation of the Oscars? B. is sure that the article was
tailor-made for Turkington to engage with, even if it didn’t name him directly.
Distracted, B. abandons the review for I Am Not
Your Negro and sends a text to Turkington, seeking some kind of response.
With no reply, B.’s mind races, fearing the worst. Every few minutes, he checks
his phone, but the silence persists.
Oscar night arrives, and B. tunes into Turkington’s Our
Cinema Oscar Special. Relief washes over him as he sees Turkington is alive
and well, but the mystery deepens—why has Turkington ignored his article? B.
can’t shake the feeling that something’s off.
In desperation, B. calls in to Turkington’s live show, eager to get some acknowledgment. To his surprise, Turkington answers, but before B. can explain himself, Turkington cuts him off mid-sentence
52
and hangs up on him, leaving B. in stunned
silence. The rejection stings, and B. is left grappling with why Turkington is
avoiding him—and what it means for their rivalry.
CHAPTER
37
Summary
The two Trunks return from their whirlwind elopement
in Atlantic City, still basking in the glow of their secret marriage. Robot
Trunk suggests they take their honeymoon now, before the media inevitably
catches wind of their union. President Trunk dismisses the idea for the moment,
saying he’ll think about it, but his mind is already elsewhere.
Trunk, however, has a different idea brewing. He
proposes that Robot Trunk take on the role of “First Robot” in the White House.
Since there’s already a First Lady, Trunk explains, having a “Second Lady”
would be seen as bigamy, and the American people would never accept that. He
never got a divorce, after all. But since Robot Trunk is, well, a robot, it all
works out legally and morally in Trunk's mind. He insists that Robot Trunk’s
place is in the home, keeping to the traditional role of support.
Robot Trunk pushes back gently, pointing out that the
White House is already a home—their home. But Trunk corrects him, explaining
that there’s a clear distinction between the residence and the office. For
things to run smoothly, those lines must be respected. Trunk adds that while
Robot Trunk belongs in the residence, his place is in the office, running the
country.
With that, Trunk kisses Robot Trunk goodbye and
announces he’s off to work. Robot Trunk, wistful but compliant, tells him to
have a good day at work as they part ways, setting the stage for the balancing
act of their unconventional relationship within the White House walls.
CHAPTER
38
Summary
After yet another strange and unfulfilling day at the
White House, B. completes his long-overdue review of I Am Not Your Negro
and sends it to his editor at Reel Change on the very last day of Black
History Month. Moments after submitting it, B. receives an email from his
editor informing him that they will not be publishing his review. Posting it on
the final day of February, the editor explains, would be an insult to the Black
community. Moreover, the email states that Reel Change will no longer be
accepting any further contributions from B., effectively terminating their
relationship.
Reeling from the
rejection, B. finds himself overwhelmed. His African-American girlfriend left
him, he’s estranged from Turkington, and now his writing career at Reel
Change is over. He sarcastically muses that he can’t handle all this “real
change.”
53
Desperate for some sort of connection, B. decides to
call Turkington, even though it’s late in California. After a few rings, the
call goes to voicemail, but B. tries again. This time, Turkington picks up. B.
tries to ease into the conversation by bringing up the Oscars, specifically the
winner for Best Picture. Turkington, however, quickly cuts him off, saying B.
doesn’t care about the Oscars anymore since he’s "conspiring to stage an
insurrection against the Academy" with his Damnation of the Oscars
article.
B. awkwardly tries to change the subject to a movie
that he’s reminded of, but Turkington doesn’t know it. Instead, Turkington
suggests a different film that he believes fits better, further frustrating B.
When B. finally asks why Turkington hung up on him during the Oscar special,
Turkington explains they had their own problems to deal with. Tim was drunk,
and Mark was pressuring Turkington to do something about it—though, as he says,
there was nothing he could have done. He assures B. that Tim’s fine now.
B. confides that he’s just been fired from Reel
Change. Turkington, surprised, asks what B. plans to do next. B. mentions
his job at the White House, explaining that it’s why he couldn’t meet his
deadlines in the first place. Turkington is stunned—not because B. would work
for the White House, but because he never expected B. to have any interest in
it. Unless, of course, B. gets to watch movies in the famous White House Family
Theater. B. is caught off guard, admitting he didn’t know the White House had a
movie theater. Turkington mocks B.’s so-called expertise, asking what he does
all day if not watch movies. B. tries to embellish his duties, but nothing he
says impresses Turkington.
In an attempt to shift the conversation, B. asks how
the rebuilding of the VHS collection at the Victorville Film Archive is going.
Turkington softens at last, excited to share a list of his most recent
acquisitions. The conversation finally relaxes into familiar territory, as the
two start discussing movies again, just like old times.
Summary
One
day, while engaged in the tedious task of sorting mail, B. finds himself once
again recalling a Bourne scene—this time, a rooftop chase. Frustrated by the
repetition, B. mutters to himself: “Nothing speaks more to the creative
bankruptcy of action cinema than Matt Damon leaping across European rooftops,
desperately trying to embody gravitas in a franchise that’s as soulless as it
is directionless.” Unbeknownst to him, a nearby supervisor overhears the
comment, and word quickly spreads.
Before
long, President Trunk hears about B.’s critique and is delighted by what he
sees as a brilliant takedown of Matt Damon, one of his political enemies due to
Damon’s support for Hillary Clinton. B. is summoned to the Oval Office,
confused as to why a casual remark about a
54
film
would garner the president’s attention. Still, he mentally prepares himself by
sharpening more critiques in case Trunk asks him to elaborate.
When
B. enters the Oval Office, he finds President Trunk in a cheerful mood. Trunk
repeats B.’s line about Damon with enthusiasm, clearly entertained by the
thought of Hollywood’s liberal elite being mocked. Trunk, who holds personal
grudges against many Hollywood actors, praises B. for his "honesty"
and "bravery" in calling out people like Damon. Trunk laughs, saying,
"You’ve got a real talent, you know. We need more people like you, who can
see through all the Hollywood phoniness."
To
B.’s amazement, Trunk appoints him as his official "movie expert."
While informal, the title essentially tasks B. with watching movies and
providing scathing critiques of actors and filmmakers, especially those who
have been critical of the administration. B., still bemused by the situation,
accepts the role, knowing that Gregg Turkington—his old acquaintance and fellow
movie buff—would be absolutely green with envy.
As
B. settles into his new role, he crafts a plan to call Turkington and brag
about his newfound position. B., always keen to demonstrate his intellectual
superiority, takes time to prepare the exact wording of the call. He knows this
moment will be his opportunity to show Turkington not only his elevated status,
but also why he, and not Turkington, was deserving of such a prestigious role.
When
B. finally makes the call, he delivers his rehearsed line with deliberate
precision: "You’ll never guess who’s been anointed President Trunk’s
official arbiter of cinematic taste and critique." His tone is casual, but
dripping with condescension, knowing that Turkington will pick up on the
undercurrent of superiority.
Turkington,
caught off guard, responds with disbelief: "You’re kidding. You?! That’s
ridiculous. You don’t even like half the movies you review!"
B.,
savoring the moment, continues: "Yes, well, it seems that my ability to
penetrate the thin veneer of Hollywood’s vacuous output has finally found its
rightful place. You know, some of us are destined to rise above the mediocrity
of mere fandom. The president, naturally, recognized this." He allows the
words to sink in before adding, "You could say I’ve ascended to a higher
plane—one where superficial knowledge of VHS tapes can only hope to
aspire."
Turkington,
flustered but still trying to maintain his composure, shoots back: "We’ll
see how long that lasts." Despite his attempts to downplay it, it’s clear
that Turkington is rattled by B.’s new role, and the conversation ends on a
note of tension between the two.
This
chapter ends with B. reveling in his new position as Trunk’s "movie
expert," a title he knows will drive Turkington mad with envy. Though B.
is fully aware of the absurdity of his role, he takes great pride in having
one-upped his acquaintance, enjoying the intellectual edge he now holds over
someone he considers far beneath him. Meanwhile, his new responsibilities allow
him to stay in Trunk’s favor, cementing his unlikely role in the White House.
CHAPTER
40
Summary
B., riding high on his
newfound role as the White House’s official movie expert, approaches President
Trunk to ask about the White House Family Theater. B. has heard of the theater
through his “acquaintance,” film expert Gregg Turkington, and when he mentions
this to Trunk,
55
it triggers the president’s suspicions. Trunk, still
paranoid about the mysterious “Deep Thought” who leaked the compromising swamp
photo, grows agitated at the words “source” and “film.”
When B. says his “acquaintance” is from California,
Trunk’s suspicions deepen—California is the home of the entertainment industry,
after all. Trunk demands B. write down Turkington’s personal details, claiming
it’s standard procedure. B. complies, unaware of the weight of his actions.
Afterward, Trunk tells Siri to grant B. access to the Family Theater but warns
him sternly, “No dirty movies. Is that clear?”
B., taking this as a sign of trust and responsibility,
is flattered and starts to imagine himself as more than just a movie
expert—maybe even the voice behind the throne, influencing Trunk’s every move.
For a fleeting moment, B. daydreams about being president himself, but he
quickly brushes that aside, deciding to focus on his role as Trunk’s cinematic
advisor.
Siri, ever professional, guides B. to the White House
Family Theater. On the way, B. asks Siri about the movie database, and she
explains that it includes every available film ever made. However, when B. asks
about lost films from the silent era, Siri clarifies that “lost” means no known
copies exist, not even in the White House. B., feeling a bit deflated, says he
gets it, that it’s not like she can reinvent the wheel. Siri, patient and
neutral, offers a more fitting analogy, which B. ignores.
Once in the theater, B. becomes overwhelmed by the
endless possibilities. He briefly considers watching movies in chronological
order, starting from the very beginning, but quickly realizes that watching
every film in the database is impossible within his lifetime. Trying to
calculate how many minutes of life he has left, he asks Siri for an estimate.
She provides the information based on his health and age, converting it to
minutes. When B. asks Siri how many minutes of film are in the database, Siri senses
B.’s struggle to cope with the vast selection, so Siri offers to make a recommendation.
Taken aback, B. asks, “Do you know who I am?” Siri, without any malice or
sarcasm, replies truthfully, though her matter-of-fact response leaves B.
feeling unexpectedly disillusioned. He pauses to reflect on her words, briefly
shaken by how plainly she has summed up his existence. When she suggests Willy
Wonka and the Chocolate Factory (1971, 100 minutes), B. condescendingly
dismisses the recommendation and selects Aguirre, The Wrath of God (1972,
94 minutes) instead.
As B. settles into his
seat, he recovers as the temptation to text Turkington to boast about his
exclusive access to the White House Family Theater becomes irresistible. The
thrill of bragging feels good—until, just seconds after sending the message, B.
feels a pang of guilt. He suddenly realizes that handing over Turkington’s
details to Trunk could have real consequences. B. frets over what the president
might do with the information, but he tries to push those thoughts out of his
mind, reasoning that Turkington is smart enough to avoid any trouble.
56
Just as the lights dim and B. prepares to watch Aguirre,
Trunk bursts in, telling B. to get up because they’re going to Chinatown and
find the source. Startled, B. asks if Trunk means the leak. Trunk’s eyes
narrow, and he demands to know what B. is hiding. Flustered, B. insists he
doesn’t know anything and apologizes for questioning the president. B. is
flooded with disappointment as he gets up from the seat, leaving him to wonder
if he’ll ever get a chance to enjoy the cinema privileges he’s just been granted.
CHAPTER
41
Summary
Still reeling from his disappointment at being pulled
out of the White House Family Theater just as Aguirre, The Wrath of God
was about to start, B. boards the presidential limousine with President Trunk.
B. feels like he’s been teased, yanked from the sanctuary of the theater before
he could even indulge in his first movie as the White House’s official movie
expert. To make matters worse, his phone buzzes with a text from Turkington,
asking what movie he’s watching. B. almost replies with Aguirre but he
quickly catches himself. B. prides himself on observing proper movie-watching
etiquette, which includes never texting during a screening. Conflicted, he
decides to spend the next 94 minutes mulling over whether or not to tell
Turkington the truth about the unexpected mission.
The mission itself is baffling to B. He’s unsure
whether they’re looking for the source of the leaked photo of the Trunks or
investigating the literal source of the water in the swamp. But he dares not
ask, lest he appear incompetent. Instead, he tries to make himself useful
throughout the day, awkwardly chiming in with what he thinks are insightful
observations, though they never land as intended. Meanwhile, Trunk engages with
various people in Chinatown, impressing B. with his passable Mandarin and Cantonese,
though often deferring to Siri for trickier translations. The Chinatown they’re
in is so unlike the cinematic depictions B. knows that he starts to lose track
of any coherent narrative. Trunk’s passing remarks about the people they meet
and the places they visit go over B.’s head, drowned out by B.’s internal
preoccupation with how to respond to Turkington’s text.
B. feels more like an outsider by the minute, his mind
less focused on the investigation at hand and more on crafting his first text
to Turkington about Aguirre after 94 minutes have passed. He takes
satisfaction in knowing that he’s timed it perfectly to match the movie’s
runtime. Turkington’s response, naturally praising the film with his usual
"five bags of popcorn” rating, gives B. a sense of control—something
sorely lacking in the rest of his day.
Later, B. shoots off a
text about Atlantis: The Lost Empire (96 minutes), lambasting it as
“saccharine propaganda” but slyly justifying its selection by referencing their
recent rendezvous in Disney World. Although impeccably timed to the end of the
movie—hypothetically
57
speaking—in
reality B.’s timing couldn’t have been worse; Trunk notices B.’s
absentmindedness during a conversation with one of his contacts, glancing
sharply at him. B. feels the eyes on him, quickly pocketing his phone, but it’s
too late—Trunk has made a mental note.
Hours pass. The Chinatown investigation spirals into
an increasingly surreal and pointless affair. Trunk talks to everyone, from
herbalists to chefs, while B. lingers behind, waiting for any sign of the
“source” Trunk seems so desperate to uncover. Calculating the time to send his
comment for The Lost City of Z (141 minutes), B. finds purpose in
composing the perfect text, savouring the delicate dance of keeping up his lie
with Turkington.
But after yet another fruitless encounter, Trunk
finally loses his patience. “You’re totally useless,” he snaps at B., who’s
been caught glancing at his phone yet again. "Should’ve brought Robot
Trunk. He’s at least attentive." B. apologizes profusely, but Trunk's
patience is running thin. The more B. texts, the more out of step he becomes
with the investigation, and Trunk's frustration grows.
It’s late in the evening when B. comes to Ulysses'
Gaze (176 minutes), still pretending he’s watching the long and winding
masterpiece. By the end of the day, their search turns up nothing—no leak, no
source, no answers. Trunk, trying to salvage the situation, jokes with the
Secret Service that maybe they should be looking for the person who came up
with the Chinatown theory in the first place. On the bright side, Trunk
reasons, they can at least rule out Chinatown as the source. “No thanks to
you,” he says to B.
Although Trunk’s disappointment stings, B. can also find
a silver lining. His charade with Turkington has been a success—his friend
never caught on. B. contemplates texting Turkington about Chinatown (131
minutes), but after spending all day in the real Chinatown, the irony feels too
obvious, too forced. Besides, B. refuses to indulge the work of Roman Polanski.
By the time he gets home, B. feels exhausted. He
checks his phone one last time to see if Polanski has died yet, then crawls
into bed, contemplating how he managed to juggle two worlds today—yet pleased with
how he pulled it off, even if Trunk doesn’t see his value.
CHAPTER
42
Summary
The chapter opens with B. calling in sick to the White
House. He puts on his best hoarse voice and mentions an upset stomach, hoping
to avoid any questions from his superiors. Relieved to have the day to himself,
B. settles into his couch with a mission: to watch all the movies he had lied
about watching during Trunk’s Chinatown investigation.
He starts with Aguirre,
The Wrath of God (1972, 94 minutes). As the film plays, B. finds a sense of
self-satisfaction in its themes. The parallels between Aguirre’s delusions of
grandeur and B.’s own situation are impossible to ignore. He imagines himself
as a misunderstood genius on the
58
verge of something significant, like Aguirre, fighting
for recognition in a world too blind to see his brilliance.
Next on his list is Atlantis: The Lost Empire
(2001, 96 minutes). But this time, the experience feels flat. Despite
technically fulfilling his commitment to re-watch the movies he lied about, B.
feels a hollow sense of accomplishment. The excitement Milo feels as he opens
the package left by his grandfather mirrors none of B.’s enthusiasm for the
film. The whole thing feels juvenile, and B. rolls his eyes.
Then, his phone buzzes. A text from Turkington: “What
are you watching now?”
B. pauses the movie and thinks about his next move. He
can't mention Aguirre or Atlantis—those were yesterday's claims.
Now, he's free to make a fresh list. He feels a small sense of relief at the
prospect of moving forward, free from the burden of keeping his lie consistent
across two days. B. reasons that this way, he’ll actually be lying less
over time.
But the thought lingers—he could always watch
yesterday’s movies today and catch up on the weekend. This way, he could make
things right.
Still, the idea of going back to work tomorrow gnaws
at him. It would be so much easier to watch the movies at the White House.
After all, Siri had explained that the White House Family Theater had instant
access to every available film, a luxury B. doesn't have at home. Yet the
nagging fear remains—what if Trunk rescinds his all-access pass? If B. is
demoted back to his previous, menial duties, he'd never catch up on his
playlist, and Turkington would surely catch on.
He weighs his options. Trunk’s legendary fickleness
might work in his favor; maybe Trunk had already forgotten about Chinatown. On
the other hand, B. remembers how Trunk had been patient with everyone else
during the investigation—except for him. Maybe Trunk hadn’t forgotten at all.
As B. mulls this over, he considers who the real Trunk
is: the media’s villain or the odd, patient man he saw in action? The cat would
be out of the bag if he couldn’t maintain his position. Turkington would never
let him live it down.
Meanwhile at the White House, Vice President Pants is summoned
to the Oval Office. President Trunk, seated at his desk, is clearly agitated.
He tells Pants that their investigation into Chinatown has come up clean, but
Trunk has bigger concerns. He suspects B., their self-styled movie expert,
might be the leak. Pants, calm and deferential, disagrees, explaining that B.
came off as dimwitted and harmless during his own interrogation.
Trunk narrows his eyes,
staring at Pants. “Are you questioning my judgment?” Trunk asks, his voice
sharp. Pants quickly backtracks, suggesting that if Trunk has doubts, maybe Pants
should dig deeper into B.’s background. Trunk cuts him off, reminding him it
was he who chose B. “You think I don’t know how to pick the right
people?” Trunk asks. Pants, attempting to diffuse the situation, reminds Trunk
that the American people hired them both. Trunk shuts him down
59
immediately: "Nobody voted for you. They voted
for Trunk.” Pants, now chastised, exits the room, suppressing his
frustration.
After Pants leaves, Trunk declares that he’s going to
find out who started the rumor about Chinatown being the source of the swamp.
He won’t rest until it’s settled.
Later that night, Trunk arrives home, calling out his
usual, “Honey, I’m home!” Robot Trunk gives him an uncharacteristically cold
response. Ignoring this, Trunk launches into a rant about B., calling him a
loser and useless. “I’d fire him, but I need to find out what he knows first,”
Trunk sneers, pacing back and forth. Robot Trunk, barely listening, gives only
minimal responses, his mood distant and distracted.
In bed, when Trunk tries to initiate his usual amorous
advances, Robot Trunk pulls away. Frustrated and feeling rejected, Trunk
quietly mutters, “Siri,” under his breath, considering using her as an
alternative. Robot Trunk, overhearing, angrily gets out of bed and storms off
to another room.
Now alone, Trunk is left feeling confused and
rejected. He hesitates when Siri responds, not wanting another rejection.
Finally, he says, “Never mind,” too embarrassed to follow through. In the
darkness, Trunk grabs his phone and angrily tweets about how unfairly he’s
being treated.
Shortly afterward, a tweet from Robot Trunk’s account
cryptically contradicts Trunk’s complaints, hinting that Trunk’s accusations
are baseless. Left alone with his muttering, Trunk can’t help but wonder where
it all went wrong.
CHAPTER
43
Summary
B. arrives early at the White House the next morning,
determined to avoid any unwanted attention after the Chinatown debacle. His
strategy is simple: lie low, evade questions from his colleagues, and spend the
day in the White House Family Theater. Above all, B. plans to avoid any
interaction with President Trunk.
He quickly settles into the same seat as the day
before and requests Siri to play Dr. Mabuse the Gambler (268 minutes).
As the theater lights dim, B. furtively checks the exit, half-expecting Trunk
to storm in and disrupt his plans again. When B. turns back to the screen,
however, he’s bewildered and disturbed to see that the title credits of
Polanski’s Chinatown (131 minutes) are rolling instead of Dr. Mabuse.
Confusion gnaws at him. Is Siri malfunctioning, or is this a sign that he’s
crossed a line? Either way, Chinatown starts, and B. finds himself at
the mercy of a movie he vowed never to watch again, given his personal boycott
of Polanski's work.
Meanwhile, in the
residence of the White House, President Trunk awakens, still brooding over the
events of the previous night. He crosses the hall to the Queen’s Bedroom and
gently knocks on the door. After receiving no response, he quietly asks if he
can come in. Silence. Trunk apologizes for speaking to Siri last night,
insisting it’s not what Robot Trunk thinks. He explains
60
that he only wanted to ask Siri a question about the
Chinatown investigation. Still, there’s no response. Trunk says he was going to
ask Siri if she knew the source of the rumour that Chinatown is the source of
the swamp. Trunk continues, saying that he’d rather conduct his search for the
source of the rumour that Chinatown is the source of the swamp with Robot
Trunk, that they could do it together, like old times. Silence. Trunk says
fine, he’ll conduct his search for the source of the rumour that Chinatown is
the source of the swamp solo.
Growing increasingly frustrated, Trunk finally tries
the doorknob—it opens. To his shock, the room is completely empty. The bed is
untouched, as if no one slept in it. Trunk stalks the halls, calling, “Donny?
Come out, come out, wherever you are. Donny, where are you? Donny!” On the
opposite end of the Central Hall, he arrives outside the President’s Bedroom
and, incredulous, glares at the door. Could Robot Trunk have taken refuge in
the President’s own room?
Trunk tries the knob, but it’s locked. His temper
flares. He pounds on the door, demanding that Robot Trunk come out. “You’re
fired!” Trunk screams. But Robot Trunk remains behind the door, unmoved.
Furious, Trunk calls for the Secret Service to evict Robot Trunk from the
President’s Bedroom.
Two Secret Service agents approach down the hall.
Trunk demands they break down the door or at least use handcuffs. One agent
politely asks Robot Trunk to open the door, which only enrages Trunk further.
Trunk yells that he’s already tried that and proceeds to fire him on the spot.
As the first agent attempts to make a discreet call, Trunk barks at the other
to shoot him before he can get away. Both Secret Service members pause and
lower their sunglasses, exchanging glances as Trunk rants.
At that moment, the door to the President’s Bedroom
opens. Robot Trunk steps out with his hands up, defusing the situation.
Overwhelmed with emotion, Trunk collapses to his knees, sobbing and promising
to make it up to Robot Trunk. In a desperate attempt to win back his affection,
Trunk offers to get Norm Macdonald fired from Saturday Night Lügenpresse,
admitting he should’ve done it ages ago.
Robot Trunk falls to his knees as well and embraces
the distraught president. As the two Trunks reconcile in the hallway, the
Secret Service agents quietly make their exit, leaving Trunk and Robot Trunk
alone to patch things up.
CHAPTER
44
Summary
B. finds himself trapped
in a moral and professional quandary as Chinatown (1974) plays in the
White House Family Theater, contravening his long-held boycott of Roman
Polanski’s films. He had tried pleading with Siri to change the movie, but she
simply shushed him, stating the movie had already begun. Despite the easy
solution of simply walking out, B. remains seated, grappling with the mystery
of why Chinatown was selected in the first place. Was Siri
malfunctioning? Or
61
had someone at the White House deliberately set him
up? After all, B.’s boycott of Polanski’s films was public knowledge,
well-documented in articles he’d written denouncing anyone who continued to
watch Polanski’s films after his conviction. It would be a cruel prank, knowing
how firmly B. stood against Polanski’s work. But perhaps the movie’s selection
was tied to yesterday’s failed mission in Washington, D.C.’s Chinatown—could
this all be a jab at B.’s ineptitude during the search for the source?
As the film plays on, B. struggles with the moral
weight of remaining in the room. Leaving might expose him to ridicule, but
staying made him complicit in breaking his own boycott, violating his
principles. He pulls his shirt over his eyes and stuffs his fingers in his
ears, reciting “All work and no play makes Jake a dull boy” to drown out the
movie’s dialogue.
Meanwhile, President Trunk and Robot Trunk have begun
their hunt for the source of the rumour that Chinatown is the source of the
swamp. They question every employee at the White House, alternating roles as
good cop and bad cop. By the time they reach B., it’s Robot Trunk’s turn to
play the bad cop.
Entering the White House Family Theater, they find B.
in his pitiful state—shirt pulled up over his eyes, fingers in his ears,
mumbling nonsense. Robot Trunk angrily orders B. to show himself, but B.
continues to shield himself from the movie, refusing to acknowledge their
presence. When Trunk sees B., he dismisses the scene, reminding Robot Trunk
that B. is the "loser movie guy" he’d told him about before. Robot
Trunk’s agitation grows as he realizes that B. had taken his place on the
Chinatown mission. While Robot Trunk had been left behind, Trunk had brought B.
along to investigate Chinatown, effectively making B. “the other man” in Robot
Trunk’s eyes. This jealousy ignites Robot Trunk’s anger.
Robot Trunk storms over to B., ripping him out of his
seat and slamming him against the wall. Robot Trunk demands to know the source
of the rumour. B., confused and still reeling from the emotional weight of the
film playing on the screen, pleads that he knows nothing. Robot Trunk, consumed
by jealousy and anger, throws B. to the ground and demands again that he reveal
the source. B. continues to plead ignorance.
Trunk, initially dismissive, watches the scene with
increasing discomfort. When Robot Trunk slaps B. and threatens more violence,
Trunk steps in and pulls Robot Trunk back. The jealousy and anger in Robot
Trunk’s eyes make Trunk’s blood run cold. It dawns on Trunk that perhaps Robot
Trunk’s loyalty wasn’t as unwavering as he’d believed. Could Robot Trunk have
been the spy all along? Had Trunk been sharing his bed with the enemy?
With Robot Trunk fuming and B. trembling on the
ground, Trunk’s suspicions deepen, and the atmosphere in the White House shifts
as Trunk realizes there may be more to uncover than just the source of the
rumour.
CHAPTER
45
Summary
After witnessing Robot
Trunk’s brutalization of B., President Trunk faces a conundrum: does he
confront Robot Trunk about his suspicions that Robot Trunk is the leak, or keep
his cards close to his chest? Trunk hasn’t come up with any actual proof, after
all, just a hunch, but his intuition
62
tells him he’s right. And his intuition about himself
being right is never wrong. Confronting Robot Trunk directly would only lead to
more lies; he’s a robot, after all, plus a spy. And spies don’t confess unless
tortured. Again, Robot Trunk’s a robot, and although ordinarily Trunk wouldn’t
know a robot from Adam, Trunk knows Robot Trunk like the back of his hand.
Moreover, Trunk knows full well what Robot Trunk can withstand, from personal
experience.
So, Trunk would be hard-pressed to physically get the
truth out of Robot Trunk. Trunk is going to need backup.
Trunk feels like a fool for ever questioning the
journalistic integrity of Saturday Night Lügenpresse anchor Norm Macdonald.
Trunk remembers it wasn’t even called Saturday Night Lügenpresse back when Norm was
the anchor. It used to be called Saturday Night Live. Like it used
to be Larry King Live, now it’s Larry King Now. Trunk
recalls verbatim an interview from this past October, just ahead of the
election, when Norm went on Larry King Now to promote Trunk
for president.
Larry King: Is this your first book?
Macdonald: Yes, sir.
King: What led to writing it?
Macdonald: Well, I always wanted to write a novel, you
know, but I knew that I never could because it would just be a novel by a
celebrity. So then someone approached me to write a celebrity memoir, so I
said, ‘Oh, I’ll trick them and write a novel and call it a memoir.’ Like, it’s
called a memoir on the book, but that’s what I’m saying—
King: Is it a novel?
Macdonald: —Confessions of a killer, but it’s not
really a confession.
King: Is this a novel?
Macdonald: This is a novel, yeah, it’s not a memoir.
King: So, do I believe it or not believe it?
Macdonald: Well, it’s not facts but it’s truth, if
that makes any sense.
King: No.
Macdonald: Okay. So, you could either look at your
life as a series of facts or you could look at it more overarchingly as a
truth, which is very easy for me because I’m a person of faith. I know that you
are not.
King: Correct.
63
Macdonald: So, maybe with you it would be more
difficult to find a larger, larger truth that belies all the--
Kiing: —But I will still enjoy it—
Macdonald: I think you will—
King: —Without getting the larger truth?
Macdonald: Oh, of course yeah, it’s written to be read
and it’s very, very funny, you know.
King: And you’re very funny.
Macdonald: Oh, thank you. But I read—I always think
the best writing is when a person is speaking to you and that they understand
everything you say. I’m not a fan of big words.
King: Did you dictate it or write it?
Macdonald: No, I did not dictate it. I mean, I read it
out loud though often to myself after, because I think it only works if it’s
read. I read aloud personally. I can’t read faster than I could read aloud.
That stood out to Trunk, really stuck with him, not
being a fan of big words himself. Trunk has the best words. And here was
Macdonald saying, in not so many words, that Trunk was the best writer—probably
the greatest living author who ever lived—even though Trunk has never actually
written a word in his life. That’s what he pays people for. Unlike Macdonald,
Trunk does dictate when he writes. He’s the greatest dictator.
Despite all Macdonald’s praise, Trunk went and lumped
Macdonald in with the rest of the fake news media, over a dream. Trunk feels a
twinge of guilt.
Beyond that, maybe it’s not just Macdonald who Trunk
has been too hard on. It leads Trunk to really wonder whether he, Trunk, hasn’t
been too hard on the press. What if those human scum have been right all along?
That would be one hell of a sea change of a paradigm shift.
To focus on the here and now, though, what does Trunk
do? Does Trunk play dumb, keep Robot Trunk nearby, pretending everything is all
right?
Does Trunk suggest that they resume the search for the
source of the rumour of the source of the swamp being in Chinatown?
Or does Trunk propose Robot Trunk join him in
searching for the source of the swamp itself?
Or does Trunk propose that they put both the search
for the source of the swamp and the search for the source of the rumour of the
source being in Chinatown on the backburner and return to the more important
job of draining the swamp—and search for the plug clotting the hole?
Or does Trunk create a
diversion, get the Secret Service to apprehend Robot Trunk and make him talk?
Not those two wimps from upstairs, obviously. They couldn’t even break a door
down.
64
Trunk tells Robot Trunk to hold on a second, to keep a
watch on B., while Trunk takes a leak.
Robot Trunk’s sensors alert Ingo Cuthbert (“Deep
Thought”) that the gig is up. Cuthbert contacts B. with the “safe word” he
implanted via BRAINIO. From Robot Trunk’s mouth comes a decidedly non-Trunk
voice saying, “Antkind.”
As Trunk heads toward the exit of the White House
Family Theater, B. pulls himself off the ground, steps behind President Trunk
and, with the efficient precision of Jason Bourne, snaps his neck.
CHAPTER
46
Summary
Through Robot Trunk’s mouth, Ingo Cuthbert, codenamed
“Deep Thought,” speaks to B., instructing him to stay by the body of President
Trunk. B., in a foggy, semi-conscious state, watches Robot Trunk exit the White
House Family Theater. Onscreen, the climactic final scenes of Chinatown play
out, with B. only half-aware of the fiction mirroring the shocking scene before
him. As the credits roll, Robot Trunk re-enters, carrying a duffel bag of
supplies, including hip waders bearing the presidential seal.
In silent coordination, B. and Robot Trunk remove
Trunk’s body, maneuvering through corridors and avoiding White House security
until they reach the outer gates. B., hazily compliant under BRAINIO’s
lingering influence, follows Robot Trunk across town to the edge of the swamp,
a now-iconic symbol of the administration. Robot Trunk hands B. the hip waders,
which he dons, still obeying his robotic companion’s instructions without
resistance. Together, they trudge into the swamp, B. gripping the president’s
legs, Robot Trunk taking the head.
They reach the swamp’s deepest point and release the
body, watching it sink into the murky water. The moment the body vanishes
beneath the surface, B. snaps out of his trance, horrified. He realizes that
he’s standing waist-deep in the swamp alongside (what appears to be) the
president himself. Panicked and disoriented, he stammers, “Mr. President, sir…
what… I don’t remember—”
Then, Deep Thought’s voice, now a calm monotone,
begins to speak to B. from Robot Trunk, outlining how this will “play out” for
B., setting the stage for an elaborate scheme to frame B. for “assassination”
while also promising B. a distorted vision of fame and survival through the
ordeal.
Robot Trunk, now
controlled by Deep Thought, will pose as President Trunk and accuse B. of
assassination based on “perfect intuition.” This charge will lead to a media
spectacle, cementing B.’s fame.
65
Robot Trunk pauses to check B.’s understanding. When
B. asks if they’re serious about “assassination,” Deep Thought assures him not
to worry, explaining that while the law doesn’t treat the destruction of a
robot as murder, “President Trunk” will frame it as such. In a series of staged
events, Deep Thought explains, President Trunk will:
- Call
in the Joint Chiefs of Staff to deliberate the matter in what he insists
be called the “War Room” (formerly the Situation Room).
- Fire
anyone who disagrees with calling it assassination, cycling through
options like “robocide,” “luddicide,” and “androcide” until settling on
“magnicide” for its “MAGA” resonance.
- Broadcast
the “magnicide” charge in a Twitter storm, inviting public opinion and
cementing B.’s role as a national pariah.
When B. stands trial, Deep Thought explains, he’ll
represent himself, embracing the role of martyr. The legal proceedings will
dissect terms like “magnicide” and “figure,” but ultimately, B. will dodge
conviction due to the term’s lack of legal grounding. B.’s exoneration will
stoke further controversy, leading to threats on his life. In time, Disney
Imagineering will quietly introduce a new, “improved” Robot Trunk, clearing
B.’s name while conveniently ending the death threats.
Skeptical, B. asks why he should cooperate. Deep
Thought’s voice coolly answers that survival itself is incentive enough.
Reluctantly, B. acknowledges he may have no choice.
Deep Thought assures B. that once the trial spectacle
subsides, he’ll be courted by a publishing house eager for his memoirs
detailing his time in the Trunk White House and his near brush with a life
sentence. The memoir will be B.'s chance at immortality—but he’ll soon find
himself wrestling with gaps in his memory, unable to recall key details
surrounding Robot Trunk’s termination. B.’s self-imposed writer’s block will
grow until he’s driven to return to Disney’s EPCOT, begging the reclusive Ingo
Cutbirth to recreate his White House experience via BRAINIO to fill in the
blanks.
From Cutbirth’s office at Walt Disney Imagineering,
the two will retrace B.’s experience on the BRAINIO path through the Magic
Kingdom. Cutbirth will lead B. to iconic landmarks: the Partners Statue, the
Mad Tea Party, where B. will finally feel the full tilt of the teacups spinning
and the dormouse quietly hiding, and, in a surreal final stop, to the Liberty
Square pillory, where B. will lock himself in place to atone for the crime he
committed but can barely remember. Cutbirth will leave B. alone in the Hall of
Presidents to listen to animatronic leaders deliver patriotic platitudes.
Finally, in Tomorrowland, BRAINIO will restore the lost memories to B., giving
him what he needs to finish his memoir.
After this preamble, Deep Thought’s voice corrects B.
on Cutbirth’s name, confirming that yes, the real source of his hypnotic
instruction had been Ingo Cutbirth all along.
Deep Thought then resumes
sketching out the chain reaction awaiting the world post-Trunk:
66
- Theories
will surge claiming the hurricanadon’t killed the real President Trunk and
replaced him with a clone. Trunk will staunchly deny it, though his
phrasing will echo the conspiracy.
- Trunk
will launch into a “Trunxplanation” of the “Paul is dead” hoax, marking a
historical aside with McCartney unavailable for comment.
- Vice
President Pants will quietly resign, prompting Trunk to appoint Robot
Trunk II as the new Vice President, forming a formidable “Trunk duo.”
- The
two Trunks will dive into swamp-draining duties, updating the media on
their “imminent discovery” of the elusive plug and swamp source, yet never
finding either.
- After
the Plato’s Cave symposium, Trunk will label Charlie Kaufman an enemy of
the state, pushing Kaufman into hiding.
- In
a scandal at the Electric Sun Desert Music Festival, a toxic vape product
will tragically take the lives of 20 children, leading to organizer Tim
Heidecker’s trial, where Turkington will testify for the prosecution.
- Trunk
will decree a new “Oscar of the Oscars” award, with The Hobbit Trilogy
crowned inaugural winner and future selections pitting recent Best Picture
winners like Spotlight and Moonlight against
one another.
- A
heavy metal album by Evil Scarecrow, featuring “Hurricanado,” will ignite
a lawsuit from Trunk, who will decry its lyrics as plagiarous and
libelous.
- Kaufman’s
next novel, Portmanifesteau, will examine his writers’
colony Shreveport Mantopia and its controversial collapse. Kaufman will
depict defectors as traitors while highlighting government deprogramming
efforts against his followers.
- Seeking
refuge off-grid, Kaufman’s new colony will veer into anti-tech Luddite
rituals, complete with typewriters and ceremonial film burnings.
- Cuthbert,
facing pressures from all sides, will cede control of the Trunks to the
Deep State, entering therapy, and eventually walking the Earth à la Jules
from Pulp Fiction.
- Disney’s O’Canada! Circle-Vision
attraction starring Martin Short will close, replaced by Canada
Far and Wide, featuring Eugene Levy and Catherine O’Hara.
- Trunk
Plaza Hotel and Casino, set for demolition, will host a solemn candlelight
vigil in honor of Trunk and Robot Trunk’s union, a symbolic farewell.
- Trunk will campaign to “drain the swamp” once more, while B. publishes his explosive tell-all Trunkle Sam, debuting on bestseller lists just before the 2020 election. Trunk will dismiss it as “just a book,” but swiftly label it as “election interference” upon Disney clinching the film rights.
67
- In
an uncanny twist, Trunk will finally locate the swamp’s elusive plug as
the first mail-in ballots are distributed. Vowing to pull the plug upon
re-election, he warns the public that any Democratic “stealing” of the
election would risk “plugging the drain right back up.”
- Trunk
will receive the largest number of votes in history, securing his 2020
re-election. On day one of his second term, he will stage a grand
“plug-pulling” ceremony at the swamp. The crowd’s raucous chants of
“TRUNK! TRUNK! TRUNK!” and “U-S-A! U-S-A!” will transform into
“TRUNK-S-A!” as the swamp begins to drain, albeit more slowly than
anticipated.
- B.
will return to film criticism, lambasting Christopher Nolan’s Knot
Vent Guru adaptation while his own Trunkle Sam film
release nears.
- Trunk,
re-elected and wielding unprecedented power, will successfully campaign
for the repeal of the 22nd Amendment, allowing him a third term.
- In
his re-election victory lap, Trunk will escalate his controversial
commentary and shake off political constraints, promoting partisan
celebrities to government roles, like sci-fi writer Roger Uklotti as
Director of the Office of Science and Technology Policy.
- As Trunkle
Sam gets ready for its Hollywood premiere, Trunk and President
Pudding of Russia will stage a fake nuclear crisis, pushing the industry
into bunkers and sparking media hysteria. Trunk will downplay the need to
hide, “voluntarily.”
- B.,
having anticipated the “aphoaxalypse,” will release his symposium speech
on the “Cinema Cavern: Post-Apocalyptic Movie Theater.”
- B.
will be abducted, only to be ushered by the two Trunks into the
subterranean “Cinematopia,” where he’ll hunker down with Siri, Alexa, and
an endless supply of films. Realizing he’s cut off from Turkington, he’ll
flip a coin to start his marathon with either Dr. Strangelove or Stalker.
· Meanwhile,
a professional roast comic’s racially insensitive joke at a Trunk rally will
stir a backlash, but he will double down, fanning the flames on “X,” Twitter’s
future name.
- Career
politician and former Vice President Joe Banjo will come out of his
crypt-like bunker long enough to call Trunk’s supporters “garbage” before
retreating again into hiding.
- Trunk
will win a third historic landslide victory, eclipsing even Teddy
Roosevelt’s electoral success, and with time, Kaufman’s “Shreveport
Mantopia 2” will grow into a network of Luddite cells.
- Kaufman, upon discovering B.’s “Cinema Cavern” concept, will ignite a movement of cinematic purists, sparking raids on archives and ritual film burnings in defense of analog exclusivity.
68
- In a final act of reflection, Trunk
will suggest stretching their legs, and as B. climbs out of the mineshaft,
he’ll ponder if BRAINIO has ever truly let him leave Tomorrowland.
- It will end like this: Cov-fe-fe?
Chapter 46 thus unfolds
as a surreal blueprint to the second half of Antkind, one part
grandiose prophecy and one part farcical indictment of modern politics and
celebrity culture, all of it binding B. to an increasingly inescapable fate
under Trunk’s lingering shadow.
CHAPTER
47
Summary
B. and “President Trunk”
sneak back into the White House just in time for lunch. As they enter, Trunk
reminds B. that his alibi is simple: B. has been watching movies all morning,
no further details needed. B. heads to the White House Family Theater, where he
attempts to dive into Dr. Mabuse the Gambler, but his focus wavers when
he notices a text from Turkington asking what movie he’s watching. Torn between
maintaining his alibi and actually watching Dr. Mabuse, B. pauses the
film and scrambles for a suitable replacement film long enough to match the
morning hours he supposedly spent watching.
With Siri’s assistance,
B. cycles through a list of suitably long films, including Gone with the
Wind, Lawrence of Arabia, Cleopatra, and Fanny and
Alexander, but worries that Turkington might know these too well, making
them risky choices. Siri then suggests less common but sprawling epics,
including Love Exposure and The Best of Youth. B. opts for Love
Exposure and prepares his reply, only to second-guess whether he’d rather
watch Love Exposure than Dr. Mabuse, sinking him into indecision.
The situation escalates
when Trunk tweets that “Robot Trunk” is missing. Realizing his time in the
theater may be limited, B. drafts his text for Dr. Mabuse but decides on
a shorter film, Z, fearing interruption. Trunk’s ominous tweets
continue, suggesting something terrible has happened, narrowing B.'s choice to The
Conformist, then to Man with a Movie Camera. With each new tweet
hinting at Trunk’s suspicions, B. ultimately selects La Jetée for its
brief runtime, hoping to wrap up his viewing before further complications.
Just minutes into La
Jetée, B. is interrupted by Secret Service agents storming the theater to
apprehend him. As he’s dragged away, the final image B. sees on the screen is
the film’s protagonist lying in a hammock, a haunting parallel to his own
predicament as Trunk’s accusations now unfold publicly.
69
CHAPTER
48
Summary
Chaos ensues as news of
an “assassination” at the White House leaks to the public, igniting mass
hysteria and wild speculation. Twitter becomes flooded with conflicting
reports, accusations, and frantic reactions, pushing the platform to the brink
until it eventually shuts down from overload. The media struggles to keep up,
piecing together the rumors with little clarity: has President Trunk been
assassinated? Was there an attack at the White House? Who could be responsible?
A press briefing is
hastily called to address the nation. Siri, calm and calculated, reassures
reporters that President Trunk is alive and well, though she provides few
additional details. The reassurance does little to quell the media frenzy, and
speculation only intensifies. Siri’s confirmation of the president’s safety
fails to answer the looming question: why was there such secrecy and confusion?
The story takes a sharp
turn when B. is identified as the alleged assassin, accused of an assassination
attempt on none other than Robot Trunk. His name and face flood every screen as
the media finally locks onto a target. News channels loop B.’s image as they
scramble to explain his motive, pulling clips from his past appearances and
articles. As the story unfolds, B. becomes the focal point of a nationwide
scandal, branded as a would-be assassin and public enemy in an unprecedented
media storm.
CHAPTER
49
Summary
President Trunk, furious
about the alleged “assassination” of Robot Trunk, insists that B. be charged
with full-fledged assassination—even as his chief of staff attempts to explain
that it’s legally impossible since Robot Trunk isn’t human. Trunk, undeterred,
argues that killing a robot version of the President of the United States is
equivalent to an attack on the president himself. He warns that if they don’t
take this seriously, the radical left will soon be selling toy effigies of him
to “thugs, anarchists, and terrorists” across the globe.
Determined to make his
stance official, Trunk calls a meeting of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, despite
his chief of staff’s suggestion that the Cabinet would be more appropriate.
Annoyed, Trunk calls the chief of staff a “moron” and insists they meet in the
War Room. When the chief of staff tries to correct him, suggesting that he
likely means the Situation Room, Trunk furiously retorts that he won’t be
corrected by “a moron who doesn’t know his place.” In a final act of
frustration, Trunk fires the chief of staff on the spot, setting the stage for
an extraordinary meeting with the nation’s top military leaders.
70
CHAPTER
50
Summary
President Trunk assembles
the Joint Chiefs of Staff in the newly renamed War Room to confront the
“assassination” of Robot Trunk. Trunk emphasizes that this crime is not just
property destruction but a direct assault on the presidency itself. The Chief of
the National Guard Bureau hesitantly points out that the alleged “assassin” has
already been apprehended. Trunk confirms this, asserting that this fact only
reinforces the gravity of the act, interpreting their silence as agreement and
expecting full support for his perspective.
Attempting to propose
legal charges, the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs suggests “destruction of
private property,” which Trunk dismisses as trivial and fires him on the spot.
The Chief of Staff of the Army proposes “luddicide” to reflect the murder of
technology, but he’s fired as well for failing to capture the severity of the
crime. The Chief of Naval Operations suggests “androcide” (though the term
technically means the killing of males), clarifying that he means “android”
rather than “man.” The Vice Chairman of the Joint Chiefs mentions Robocide,
a video game involving robot battles, but Trunk, unimpressed, dismisses the
idea after a quick gameplay demonstration.
The Air Force Chief tries
his hand, suggesting “eliticide” as the elimination of elites, though Trunk
quickly rejects this as “too liberal.” However, Trunk pardons him for his
historic contributions to U.S. air defense, citing service “since the Revolutionary
War” and “those beautiful birdrones.” Finally, the Chief of the National Guard
Bureau offers “magnicide,” defining it as the assassination of a significant
political figure. Trunk is instantly enamored, captivated by how “mag” echoes
“MAGA,” and he declares “magnicide” the perfect term, sealing the choice with a
triumphant slap on the table.
Overjoyed with his
decision, Trunk tweets about the new charge, while the Joint Chiefs sit in
silence, observing the president’s enthusiasm. Once finished tweeting, Trunk
thanks the remaining members for their “terrific service,” dismissing them and
leaving the room, his chosen term echoing through the bewildered minds of his
staff.
CHAPTER
51
Summary
B. faces reduced charges
of "magnicide" as he represents himself in court, the trial instantly
turning into a media spectacle. The president’s fury on Twitter is unmistakable,
his tweets raging about “soft-on-crime” justices.
Public
perception leans toward believing B. could indeed be the kind of person to
carry out such a bizarre act. B., however, is initially caught up in
referencing films rather than making a coherent legal defense. Deep Thought
intervenes, using a hidden device to communicate, chastising B. for deviating
from the plan and reminding him of the legal strategy designed to
71
secure his acquittal.
When B. requests a lawyer, Deep Thought flatly denies him, explaining that the
plan requires B. to represent himself—otherwise, the public might dismiss any
acquittal as legal trickery. But if B. succeeds without a lawyer, it will imply
his innocence.
The courtroom scrutinizes
each word in the charge: “killing,” “major,” “political,” and “figure,” as they
pertain to the death of Robot Trunk. B. seizes the moment, arguing that Robot
Trunk, being a machine, doesn’t qualify as a “political figure” in the
traditional sense, and at most, his actions would constitute destruction of
property. He contends that even if they tried to change the charge now, it
would violate his rights through double jeopardy.
B. proceeds with Deep
Thought’s guidance, toeing the line of confession by dissecting the term
“magnicide.” He emphasizes that, although associated with the murder of
prominent political figures, the word itself doesn’t appear in U.S. statutes.
Instead, laws use terms like “assassination” or “murder,” which are specific
and don’t apply to his case. B. insists that the undefined nature of
“magnicide” renders the charge legally ambiguous, compromising his right to a
fair trial.
CHAPTER
52
Summary
The justices deliver
their verdict, siding with B.'s argument that "magnicide" is
undefined in U.S. law. They rule that without a precise legal definition or
established statute for magnicide, there is no legitimate basis to convict him.
Emphasizing the importance of clear legal terminology, the justices state that
defendants must be fully aware of the charges against them and that those
charges must align with established law. They conclude that, because magnicide
lacks proper legal grounding, B.'s rights to a fair trial were compromised,
leading to his exoneration.
With the lack of a
specific statute to uphold the charge, B. is acquitted and walks free. His
unexpected victory sends a shockwave through the media, legal circles, and the
public, sparking outrage and disbelief, particularly from President Trunk’s
camp, who had pushed so hard for a conviction.
CHAPTER
53
Summary
President
Trunk’s fury is unleashed on Twitter, where he condemns the Supreme Court as
the “phoney Un-Supreme Court” and denounces the remaining Joint Chiefs of
Staff, calling them “incompetent” before publicly firing them. Fueled by the
verdict, Trunk insists he’ll fire the Supreme Court justices as well—until he
discovers he can’t legally do so. Unphased, he continues to insist that he can
and will find a way.
72
Reporters seek B.’s
reaction to his acquittal, and he remarks that standing trial forced him to go
the longest he’s ever gone without watching a movie. Now, he says, he plans to
dive back into his viewing routine “like there’s no tomorrow.” Reporters notify
him of Trunk’s relentless tweets, triggering a wave of attention B. had hoped to
avoid.
With the public on edge,
B. starts receiving death threats that disrupt his moviegoing schedule. These
distractions affect his reviews, which feel increasingly disjointed.
Frustrated, B. reaches out to his former publisher, Reel Change, hoping
for a comeback, but they refuse to take him back, citing reasons other than
danger, which stings B.’s pride. He calls it censorship.
Determined to stay
relevant, B. begins exploring how to launch his own review platform, trying to
make it cost-effective and seeking out advice. His notoriety peaks when, while
waiting in line at a theater, he survives an assassination attempt.
CHAPTER
54
Summary
B. reluctantly goes into
hiding after the failed assassination attempt. As he scrambles to find a safe
haven, B. reaches out to his ex-girlfriend, hoping she’ll let him stay with
her. She is incredulous at his request, reminding him of the danger he’d bring
into her life. B. tries to downplay the threat and appeals to their past
relationship, but she cuts him off, calling him out for his lack of
self-awareness and inability to see things from anyone else’s perspective.
Desperate, B. texts
Turkington for help, but Turkington doesn’t reply until after finishing The
Lost City of Z. When Turkington finally responds, B. can’t help but feel
annoyed, considering that he saw The Lost City of Z at the New York Film
Festival months before it hit theaters. Turkington retorts that most people
don’t attend festivals and review mainstream releases instead—a point that only
irritates B. further.
With nowhere else to
turn, B. contacts Deep Thought, who curtly reminds him that all of this chaos
is part of the plan and urges him to stay on course.
CHAPTER
55
Summary
Disney
Imagineering unveils a “new and improved” Robot Trunk for President Trunk, much
to the president’s delight. Reporters seize the moment to ask whether he is
aware of B.’s recent
73
misfortunes. The
president waves off the question and, in a casual aside, commands his
supporters to "stand back and stand by" in regard to B. With that
single statement, B.’s troubles abruptly cease: the death threats and attempts
on his life vanish as quickly as they had begun, leaving B. stunned by his
sudden safety.
Trunk shifts his
animosity toward Charlie Kaufman’s outspoken critiques at the “Future of
Plato’s Cave” symposium resurface. Framing Kaufman’s cautionary comments on
societal decay as an affront to his administration, Trunk publicly labels
Kaufman an “enemy of the state,” setting off a new wave of controversy and scrutiny
around the filmmaker.
CHAPTER
56
Summary
B. enjoys a brief respite
from the chaos and goes to see The Case for Christ (2017, 113 minutes),
a film recommended by Turkington. Afterward, B. texts Turkington his review,
eager to share his thoughts but finding his usual sharp critique softened by
the experience of recent events.
Shortly after, a
publishing house approaches B. with a book deal, proposing he write a memoir
covering his day-to-day life in the Trunk White House, the circumstances that
led him to terminate Robot Trunk, and the intense trial where he narrowly
escaped the president’s demand for the death penalty. B. initially rejects the
offer, claiming he’s a movie critic, not a narcissist. But soon after, Deep
Thought contacts him, reminding B. of the larger plan and urging him to
reconsider.
Relenting under the
publisher’s renewed pressure, B. agrees to meet and negotiate terms for the
memoir. Overwhelmed, he heads to a theater to clear his mind and decides on Kedi
(2017, a Turkish documentary exploring the lives of Istanbul’s street cats),
hoping its calm, intellectual tone will help him regain his focus.
CHAPTER
57
Summary
B. wakes up, ready to
begin his memoir-writing journey, but he starts his day with a familiar
warm-up: watching Film (1965, 24 minutes) by Samuel Beckett. Immersed in
the short, thought-provoking piece, B. feels a surge of inspiration, texting
Turkington to share his thoughts on the film.
Turkington
replies, but his news is grim: he updates B. on the Electric Sun Desert Music
Festival tragedy, where 18 children have died after ingesting a poisonous vape
product, all thanks to Tim
74
Heidecker, the festival’s
organizer, who has been arrested. Turkington expresses satisfaction, convinced
that with Tim in prison, he’ll no longer be around to “mislead” audiences with
his questionable takes on cinema.
In a surprising twist,
Turkington invites B. to come out west to be his guest co-host on his show,
hoping they might join forces in dissecting the true meaning of cinema. But B.
declines, explaining that he has his memoirs to focus on, committed to the book
deal he recently secured. Turkington seems disappointed, but B. assures him
that this book may just be the key to cementing his legacy once and for all.
CHAPTER
58
Summary
B. dives into writing his
memoirs with unexpected enthusiasm, finding himself able to write fluidly and
at great length about his formative years. His storytelling focuses heavily on
his evolution as a film critic and self-styled activist, blending personal
anecdotes with critiques of the films that influenced him along the way. Every
chapter in his life, from his youth to his early career, is tethered to movies
he watched during those periods. His memoir becomes a tapestry where life
events and cinematic moments intersect, allowing him to frame his journey
through the lens of influential films. As B. explores his past, he feels both
validated and reinvigorated, believing he’s on the path to crafting a work of
true cinematic critique and autobiography.
B. enthusiastically sends
his initial draft to his editor, eager to showcase the depth of his work. In
what he sees as a blend of personal history and film critique, B. believes his
writing reveals a profound connection between his life’s turning points and the
cinematic masterpieces that have shaped him. He is confident that the editor
will appreciate his unconventional approach, showcasing his life through the
prism of activist film criticism. However, beneath his excitement, B. can’t
entirely shake a hint of doubt about how well his perspective will resonate
with someone outside his world of cinephilia. Still, he’s proud of what he’s
written and hits “send” without hesitation, hopeful for immediate approval.
B. decides to celebrate
with a viewing of Naked Lunch (1991, 115 minutes), David Cronenberg's
adaptation of William S. Burroughs’ famously surreal novel. As he watches, B.
reflects on the film’s unsettling portrayal of bureaucratic absurdities and
subversive undercurrents, which feel oddly familiar in light of his own recent
past in Trunk’s inner circle.
CHAPTER
59
Summary
B.'s
editor replies with a mix of confusion and disappointment, expressing that
readers aren’t looking for a personal filmography; they’re hungry for insights
into the mysteries of Trunk’s
75
White House. They want
scandal, intrigue, and revelations about B.'s alleged “assassination” of Robot
Trunk—not B.’s favorite movies from his childhood. The feedback hits B. hard,
and he realizes his cinematic memories aren’t going to cut it.
Frustrated and blocked,
B. struggles to find a way into the story he was hired to tell, as his lack of
insider knowledge about the White House’s machinations haunts him. He finds
himself obsessing over the holes in his memory and feels like he’s hitting an
impenetrable wall, experiencing writer’s block like never before. In
desperation, he turns to the familiar comfort of movies, watching film after
film and penning reviews he can’t publish—not yet, anyway—unless he could
somehow make the reviews about the White House experience. But every attempt
fails; none of it fits.
B. sighs and opens a new
file, intending to start his memoirs from scratch. He stares at the blank
screen, the emptiness taunting him. In a moment of desperation, he recalls the
typewriter from Naked Lunch, the machine that spoke, prodded, and even
seemed to have a will of its own. The idea of such a typewriter is both amusing
and tantalizing: if only his laptop could generate the story for him, filling
the page with compelling prose and structured anecdotes from his time in the
White House.
B. sits motionless,
daydreaming that his laptop might suddenly morph, like the Clark Nova,
whispering words of direction and turning his memories into an effortless,
automatic narrative. But the screen remains blank, his cursor still blinking,
silently mocking him.
As his despair deepens,
B. watches films that mirror his mood, including Fassbinder's Despair
(1978, 120 minutes).
CHAPTER
60
Summary
B., desperate to break
through his writer’s block, heads back to EPCOT and pleads with Ingo Cutbirth
for help. He begs Cutbirth to use BRAINIO to recreate a documentary reenactment
of his White House experiences—something he can draw from to fill the gaps in
his memory and finally get his memoirs underway. Cutbirth agrees with
surprising sympathy and personally guides B. out of EPCOT to retrace his
initial journey under BRAINIO’s influence.
They take the monorail to
the Magic Kingdom, where Cutbirth leads B. back to the Partners Statue. There,
Cutbirth points B. in the direction of the Mad Tea Party and reminds him of
their previous conversation. After shaking Cutbirth’s hand, B. climbs into one
of the teacups. This time, the ride is silent—the teacups do the spinning, and
the dormouse simply pops up from the teapot lid without saying a word.
B. exits the ride and makes his way to Liberty Square, where he places his head and arms through the pillory. He “does the time” for his “crime,” waiting until a strange sense of resolution comes over him. Finally feeling his debt to society paid, B. heads to the Hall of Presidents.
76
There, he listens
attentively to the animatronic presidents and finds himself, for once,
receptive to their patriotic speeches.
Clear-headed and feeling
inspired, B. meets Cutbirth in Tomorrowland, where they use BRAINIO to patch
the blank spots in his memory, allowing B. to fill in the missing pieces for
his memoir.
CHAPTER
61
Summary
B. dedicates himself to
writing his memoir, Trunkle Sam, with a fervor that recalls Dickens.
However, unlike Dickens, B. relies heavily on BRAINIO to complete the work.
BRAINIO’s immersive reenactments provide B. with vivid, near-perfect
recreations of his time in the White House, almost as if the AI itself were
writing the memoir for him. B. meticulously edits each scene, fine-tuning every
detail, occasionally adding his own embellishments but mostly letting BRAINIO’s
“recollections” shape the narrative. Despite this unorthodox method, B.
produces a sprawling account that feels raw, hyper-detailed, and complete.
CHAPTER
62
Summary
President Trunk grapples
with a wave of conspiracy theories claiming that he isn’t the real President
but rather a clone created after the hurricanadon’t disaster. Dismissing these
rumors in typical Trunk fashion, he insists that he is “authentically, one
hundred percent” himself, using phrases and slogans that oddly seem to
reinforce his detractors' claims.
In an effort to redirect
attention, Trunk takes the opportunity to "Trunxplain" the famous
“Paul is dead” hoax, detailing how the rumor had circulated about Paul
McCartney in the 1960s. Ironically, his elaborations seem to fuel public doubts
even further, especially when Paul McCartney’s press team declines to comment,
sparking a minor revival of the belief that Paul is, in fact, deceased.
CHAPTER
63
Summary
Vice
President Pants submits his resignation, setting off a media frenzy. At the
ensuing press conference, reporters probe for details, asking if the
resignation was influenced by the growing clone conspiracy theories and whether
Pants had been pushed out. When pressed about who might succeed Pants, the
administration keeps silent.
77
Shortly after, President
Trunk stuns the nation by appointing Robot Trunk II as the new Vice President,
sparking immediate backlash. Protests erupt across the country from all
political camps, united in their opposition to a non-human successor in the line
of presidential authority. Trunk is unphased by the public outcry, dismissing
the concerns as the product of “radical-left” fake news, and railing that the
demonstrators are unpatriotic “lawless” agitators who should be dealt with
severely.
CHAPTER
64
Summary
The two Trunks double
down on their campaign to drain the swamp, this time determined to locate the
elusive “plug” they believe lies at the bottom. President Trunk holds regular
press briefings, boasting to the fake news media about the remarkable progress
he and Robot Trunk are making, insisting that they’re closer than ever to
finding the plug and resolving the swamp problem “once and for all.” Despite
the fanfare, the plug remains out of reach. Their efforts to find not only the
source of the swamp but also the origin of the Chinatown rumor are
unsuccessful, leaving Trunk frustrated and at odds with his triumphant public
claims.
CHAPTER
65
Summary
Ingo Cutbirth finds
himself besieged by international pressures, as the Deep State, along with
foreign forces from China and Russia, press him relentlessly. Overwhelmed and
questioning the implications of his inventions, Cutbirth spirals through rounds
of second thoughts, third thoughts, and endless self-doubt. Finally, he
relinquishes control of President Trunk and Vice President Robot Trunk II to
the Deep State, hoping to escape the ethical quandaries he has created. Seeking
professional help, Cutbirth embarks on a journey of introspection, consulting
with therapists and ultimately deciding to roam the world alone in search of
inner peace, mirroring Jules’s fateful path in Pulp Fiction.
CHAPTER
66
Summary
Turkington
takes the stand as a character witness for the prosecution in Tim Heidecker's
high-profile trial. Turkington’s testimony shifts public opinion, and he gains
widespread attention for his stance on film, even sparking a rare public
statement from President Trunk. The president publicly backs Turkington,
specifically aligning with him on a debated detail of film trivia:
78
which Star Trek
movie was set in San Francisco. This unexpected endorsement from Trunk, as well
as his vocal support of Turkington over Heidecker, marks a new cultural focus
for the administration.
In an even more unusual
move, President Trunk issues a decree reshaping the Oscars, mandating a new
award category, the "Oscar of the Oscars," intended to honor the best
film of an era. The inaugural Oscar of the Oscars is awarded to The Hobbit
Motion Picture Trilogy, sparking mixed reactions among film critics. Trunk
then announces the nominees for the 2020 award, which will select the best film
from the previous five Best Picture winners:
- Spotlight
(2015)
- Moonlight
(2016)
- The Shape of Water
(2017)
- Green Book
(2018)
- Parasite
(2019)
Trunk’s sweeping
influence on American culture grows, as he redefines not just the political,
but also the cinematic landscape.
CHAPTER
67
Summary
The heavy metal band Evil
Scarecrow releases their highly anticipated album Chapter IV: Antartarctica,
which features the track “Hurricanado.” The song’s lyrics, darkly satirical and
laced with sci-fi themes, reference conspiracies involving robots and weather
phenomena, ultimately provoking President Trunk’s ire. Interpreting the lyrics
as an attack, Trunk accuses the band of slander and intellectual theft,
asserting that the song’s narrative—hinting at a “robocoup” and robot
conspiracy—directly implies that the two Trunks (himself and Robot Trunk II)
orchestrated a takeover.
In
a dramatic response, Trunk launches a lawsuit against Evil Scarecrow, aiming to
prove libel and plagiarism, as well as to shut down any future insinuations of
a robocoup. This lawsuit quickly escalates into a media spectacle, as both
sides attract widespread attention, fueling debate over artistic freedom and
the boundary between fiction and defamation.
79
CHAPTER
68
Summary
The release of Charlie
Kaufman’s controversial new novel, Portmanifesteau, creates a media
frenzy. Fox News, seizing the “dangerous” label initially promoted by other
networks, praises the novel before recalling that President Trunk had
previously declared Kaufman an enemy of the state. As the day unfolds, Fox News
commentators struggle to settle on a stance, swinging between admiration and
condemnation. Meanwhile, the network attempts to schedule an interview with
Kaufman but hesitates, unsure of the angle they’ll ultimately adopt.
Portmanifesteau,
written by Kaufman while in hiding, fictionalizes the inception of Shreveport
Mantopia, a writers’ colony guided by Kaufman’s manifesto. The novel explores
the colony’s explosive growth, only to spiral into controversy as accusations
of groupthink, exclusion, and gaslighting emerge, especially from marginalized
members. Kaufman’s colony characterizes dissenters as “traitors” and portrays
the families who “rescued” their adult children as complicit in
government-sponsored “deprogramming,” arguing that they inflicted
“brainwashing” worse than anything within the colony.
As Portmanifesteau
unfolds, it hints at a secret rebirth of Shreveport Mantopia in a secluded,
off-grid locale. Following Kaufman’s rejection at the symposium, his vision
shifts: this new community invites only a small, ideologically aligned cadre of
Luddites. Electronics are banned, and all written work is produced by hand or
on typewriters. Kaufman’s colony embraces “ritual movie burnings,” marking a
starkly purist retreat from the modern world—and, notably, Kaufman no longer
cares about Trunk’s vendetta against computers.
CHAPTER
69
Summary
Disney World’s O’Canada!
Circle-Vision attraction featuring Martin Short is replaced by Canada
Far and Wide, now narrated by Catherine O’Hara and Eugene Levy. When B.
hears of the update, he’s distracted by the faint recollection of seeing the
attraction’s sign during his time at EPCOT, wondering if this memory could be
relevant for his memoir. He searches for a video of O’Canada! on YouTube
and watches, but the memory only resurfaces as the mundane detail of walking
past the sign.
B. reflects on why he put
so much effort into retrieving this memory, realizing it holds little meaning,
especially compared to Cutbirth’s single-minded progress through EPCOT. He
considers using Canada as a metaphor—a distraction that calls for attention but
ultimately fades into insignificance. Intrigued, he looks up Martin Short’s
filmography and compares it with Catherine O’Hara’s and Eugene Levy’s, noting
how these three iconic Canadian comedians find their Disney connection far from
home in Florida.
Inspired,
B. drafts a posthumous review of O’Canada!, based on the YouTube video,
capturing his ironic view of the attraction’s attempt to encapsulate Canadian
identity.
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CHAPTER
70
Summary
President Trunk holds a
candlelight vigil for the impending demolition of the Trunk Plaza Hotel and
Casino, framing it as a tribute to his "marriage" to Robot Trunk.
Though he insists on the event’s solemnity, he can’t resist using it as an opportunity
to announce his renewed campaign promise to “drain the swamp.”
When reporters point out
that he made this same promise in the previous election and that the swamp
remains unchanged, Trunk turns the tables, accusing them of disrespecting Robot
Trunk’s legacy. He condemns the reporters for choosing this moment to cast
doubt on his progress, claiming that he and Robot Trunk had made “tremendous
strides” toward draining the swamp. He insists that “everyone knows it,”
deflecting the critique as typical of the “dishonest” press.
CHAPTER
71
Summary
B. releases his explosive
tell-all memoir, Trunkle Sam, revealing behind-the-scenes details of his
time in Trunk’s White House. Timed strategically in the summer of 2020 to
impact President Trunk’s re-election campaign, the book becomes an instant
bestseller, climbing to the top of all major lists. Trunk dismisses it as “just
a book,” claiming that “nobody reads anyway.” However, as Trunkle Sam
garners widespread attention, Trunk swiftly denounces it as election
interference.
B. embarks on a national
book tour, giving readings and signing copies, but his audiences often veer
off-topic, challenging him on his film critiques. Amid the tour’s success,
Hollywood takes notice, and B. finds himself in bidding wars for the film rights
to his memoir. Ultimately, he sells the option to Disney, securing a lucrative
deal for a potential movie adaptation of his story.
CHAPTER
72
Summary
In
a twist that shocks the nation, President Trunk miraculously claims to have
found the elusive plug to the swamp, coinciding with the first mail-in ballots
being sent out for the election. Trunk vows to pull the plug—finally draining
the swamp—but only after securing his re-election. The media erupts, accusing
him of effectively holding the country hostage by leveraging the swamp for
political gain.
81
Reporters demand to know
why he doesn’t simply remove the plug now. Trunk, exasperated, ridicules the
press for their "unbelievably foolish" question, calling it “low IQ”
and “phoney” and asserting that “even a child” could understand that if he
pulled the plug now, the “radical left” would just fashion another one.
"It’s easy," he asserts, “Make a new hole clot, problem solved.” With
that, Trunk’s bold claim and his cryptic answers send the media—and the
public—into a frenzy.
CHAPTER
73
Summary
Following his book tour,
B. returns to his first love: movie criticism. His comeback review targets Tenet,
Christopher Nolan’s latest, which he skewers as an “overblown and
incomprehensible” mess. B. attacks the film’s themes, accusing it of peddling
elitism through convoluted plotlines that, in his view, are more about
showcasing complexity for complexity’s sake than delivering any genuine
insight. He finds fault with the movie’s concept of “temporal warfare” as
dangerously glorifying the idea that only a select few “chosen” individuals
should possess the power to manipulate reality.
B. goes on to lambaste
Nolan’s entire oeuvre, casting Inception as a celebration of corporate
espionage disguised as innovation, Interstellar as a savior complex with
thinly veiled technocratic elitism, and The Dark Knight trilogy as an
unapologetic ode to vigilante justice. According to B., Nolan’s characters,
operating beyond reproach, reinforce a problematic fascination with unilateral
power that is at odds with democratic values.
In his scathing review,
B. even criticizes Nolan’s keynote speech from the recent symposium, despite
having made a point of ignoring it at the time. He imagines the speech as
little more than an ego-driven defense of cinema’s “elevated” status, accusing Nolan
of being a director who profits from grandstanding while remaining oblivious to
the actual moral impact of his work. B. dismisses Nolan’s style as hollow
pretension, writing that his films are “empty vessels of spectacle,” designed
to pander to audiences’ intellectual vanity without engaging with real-world
complexities.
To cap it off, B.
revisits every perceived slight Nolan’s movies have committed against true
cinema, branding Tenet as the latest example of a troubling trend he
believes to be “profoundly tone-deaf” to both society and cinema’s true
potential.
CHAPTER
74
Summary
President
Trunk wins re-election in 2020 by a historic margin, claiming more votes than
any sitting president in U.S. history. Robot Trunk II, running alongside him,
makes history as the first known robot elected to office—a fact celebrated by
the administration, though the reality remains undisclosed: both candidates on
the ticket were robots.
82
Following the election,
the country experiences an unprecedented wave of unity. The public, seemingly
exhausted by years of political turmoil, rallies behind Trunk’s vision to “make
America great more.” This collective optimism propels the nation into a season
of celebration, as people across the country come together with newfound hope.
From election night through the holiday season, citizens enjoy a sense of peace
and prosperity that feels unmatched in the nation’s history, embracing the
ideals of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness in a spirit of unity and
patriotic fervor.
CHAPTER
75
Summary
on the first day of his
second term, President Trunk ceremoniously pulls the plug to drain the swamp, a
move he’s touted as the ultimate fulfillment of his campaign promise. A massive
crowd gathers, eagerly watching for the historic moment. As Trunk yanks the
plug, bubbles rise to the surface, and the murky swamp water begins to retreat
from the banks. The crowd erupts in jubilant chants of “TRUNK! TRUNK! TRUNK!”
and “U-S-A! U-S-A! U-S-A!” which eventually merge into a single, patriotic
chant: “TRUNK-S-A! TRUNK-S-A!”
As the swamp continues to
drain, though slowly and almost imperceptibly to all but the most attentive
watchers, the crowd’s excitement begins to wane. The spectacle quickly loses
its appeal as people realize the gradual pace of the drainage. One by one, the
crowd disperses, leaving only a few lingering enthusiasts determined to witness
the complete draining—a symbolic triumph that, even in its anticlimax, fulfills
Trunk’s long-promised act.
CHAPTER
76
Summary
B.
publishes his scathing review of Christopher Nolan's adaptation of Knot Vent
Guru, dissecting it as a haphazard take on Uklotti’s original novel—which
B., naturally, hasn’t read. He’s more than willing to speculate on how the film
likely “misunderstands” its source material, drawing on vague assumptions and
Nolan’s history of making big-budget thrillers out of what he presumes must be
complex ideas. B. doesn’t hesitate to offer his favorite observation: the title
Knot Vent
83
Guru is actually an anagram
for “Gun Vote Trunk.” He claims that this wasn’t a coincidence but an
intentional dog whistle that, in his words, “Nolan somehow missed or willingly
endorsed.”
B. leans into the “Gun
Vote Trunk” reading, positioning it as a sinister call to arms for Trunk’s
supporters, even though Trunk has already been re-elected. B. acknowledges that
any past concerns over an election-related insurrection are now moot, given the
22nd Amendment’s term limit, but he insists that the movie still conveys an
unsettling endorsement of violence in the event of any challenge to Trunk’s
authority. B. speculates that the adaptation was “rushed” to capitalize on the
lingering election tensions, missing its moment but still peddling an outdated
message.
Despite lacking direct
knowledge of the novel’s content, B. criticizes the casting and character
choices, claiming that Joseph Gordon-Levitt as Vince Kotar is “too sanitized”
to represent what he assumes is a complex antihero—though he has no real basis for
this. To B., Gordon-Levitt seems like a safe, “boring” choice for a role that
he imagines might have required a more morally ambiguous actor, making the
character “Nolan’s latest hero on autopilot.” B. also dismisses Nolan’s
decision to include regulars like Michael Caine and Tom Hardy, as predictable
choices that, to B., signal a director too attached to his familiar ensemble to
offer a fresh take on a story he claims to be “groundbreaking.”
B. rounds out his review
with a dig at Nolan’s perceived mishandling of political themes, presuming that
the movie waters down the novel’s social commentary to favor stylized action
over substance. He guesses that Knot Vent Guru glosses over the
implications of AI-driven election interference—a timely topic, he notes, given
the recent election cycle—and imagines that the movie’s speculative technology
must have been over-the-top, missing the “prescience” that a more thoughtful adaptation
might have conveyed. For B., this is emblematic of Nolan’s approach: making
thought-provoking ideas look cinematic but without engaging with their real
implications.
B. closes his review with
an implied contrast to his own upcoming adaptation, Trunkle Sam,
predicting that it will prove superior in its fidelity to source material and
“meaningful critique” of modern politics. He advises viewers to skip Knot
Vent Guru and save their money for Trunkle Sam, hinting that it will
deliver the uncompromising, socially relevant cinema that Nolan’s adaptation
failed to achieve.
CHAPTER
77
Summary
Knot
Vent Guru debuts at number one at the box office, becoming an
unexpected hit and sparking widespread acclaim. Director Christopher Nolan and
producer Zack Snyder publicly attribute the movie’s success to Roger Uklotti’s
visionary storytelling, praising the author for his prescience in
84
addressing themes of
AI-driven election interference and the fragility of democracy. Media outlets
and critics highlight Uklotti’s foresight, turning the author into a cultural
icon nearly overnight.
Following this wave of
admiration, President Trunk seizes the moment by appointing Uklotti as the new
Director of the Office of Science and Technology Policy, lauding his
“futuristic insight and patriotism” as assets crucial to guiding America
forward. Trunk’s endorsement positions Uklotti as a high-profile advocate for
technological innovation and “truth in government,” further elevating Knot
Vent Guru's status as a cultural and political phenomenon.
CHAPTER
78
Summary
Congress introduces a
joint resolution to repeal the 22nd amendment, with Trunk framing the year 2022
as a divine sign for extending presidential terms. The fake news media erupts,
decrying the move as a step toward fascism. Trunk counters by saying that a
true fascist wouldn’t need congressional support, dismissing reporters as
dishonest for comparing him to dictators. When the media points out how Hitler
legally consolidated power, Trunk doubles down, claiming he could change the
law by executive order if he wanted, that his authority is beyond question.
Reporters raise the
possibility of Trunk and Robot Trunk II pulling a maneuver similar to Russian
President Pudding’s past role-swapping with the prime minister, allowing him to
maintain de facto power. Trunk dismisses this, calling them "stupid"
and reiterating that he could do it legally, even if it’s unnecessary. When
reporters ask how they know they’re even speaking to the real Trunk and not his
robot counterpart, he seizes on the question as “proof” of his transparency,
spinning it to support his claim of legitimacy. Trunk then asks if they’re
calling Teddy Roosevelt a dictator, baffling the reporters who know he must
mean FDR but are too intimidated to correct him.
Over time, Trunk’s
relentless verbal attacks and manipulation of simple errors condition the media
into compliance. Reporters become too wary of retribution to challenge his
assertions directly. Trunk’s psychological tactics effectively break down
journalistic resistance, compelling them to report on his terms. With the press
subdued, the resolution passes unanimously, setting the stage for Trunk’s
expanded reign.
CHAPTER
79
Summary
Knot
Vent Guru sweeps the 2022 Academy Awards, winning Best Picture,
Best Adapted Screenplay for Roger Uklotti, Best Director for Christopher Nolan,
and Best Actor for Joseph Gordon-Levitt’s portrayal of Vince Kotar. Watching
the broadcast on On Cinema at the Cinema’s
85
Oscar special, B. seethes
with frustration, feeling that his own forthcoming memoir-based film, Trunkle
Sam, deserves the recognition. Determined to pen a scathing critique of the
Academy’s choices, B. finds himself struggling to write the article.
B. battles his obvious
bias, knowing that if he’s too transparent, his motive will overshadow his
point. He doesn’t want to bore readers with the same grievances he’s aired
against Nolan and the Oscars over the years. Desperate for a fresh angle, B.
attempts to draw a comparison between Uklotti’s current Cabinet position as
Director of the Office of Science and Technology Policy and his own former role
as Trunk’s “official movie expert”—though even he knows this comparison
stretches credibility.
Frustrated, B. revises
the article repeatedly, ultimately sensing he’s losing his grip on an original
approach, unable to mask the bitterness clouding his perspective.
CHAPTER
80
Summary
As Trunkle Sam
prepares for release, President Trunk heightens global tensions with a staged
nuclear standoff with Russian President Pudding, secretly coordinated to create
a spectacle that would divert attention and rally patriotic fervor. The
showdown takes place in Crimea, a deliberate choice that allows Pudding to host
Trunk on disputed Ukrainian soil—an implicit acceptance by Trunk of Russia’s
claims. To Trunk, Ukraine naturally belongs to Russia, and the geopolitical
implications seem irrelevant to his agenda. Yet, the real shock comes from
Trunk’s decision to sell Alaska to Russia.
Although vague on the
specifics, Trunk assures the press it’s part of a grander, calculated deal, one
that the American people must trust him on. Trunk tells the fake news media
they simply don’t understand the art of negotiation at this scale.
With smug bravado, Trunk succumbs
to temptation and leaks news of this sale through Robot Trunk II, boasting that
he brokered the deal for 720 million rubles, “100 times the original purchase
price.” The arrangement is meticulously backdated to October 18, 2017, marking
the 150th anniversary of the Alaska Purchase. This retroactive clause is
celebrated by Trunk as a symbolic full-circle transaction, though most are
baffled by the logistical hurdles and odd historical tweaks involved. The
official explanation given is a "correction for calendar discrepancy"
due to the shift from the Julian to the Gregorian calendar, a convoluted
explanation that leaves journalists and the public alike scratching their
heads.
Critics
are quick to point out the dubious exchange rate and the questionable decision
to price a U.S. state in rubles. The ceding of Alaska is perceived as an
enormous concession, sparking widespread dismay and speculation over Trunk's
motives. Nonetheless, Trunk remains adamant,
86
asserting that the
“genius of the deal” will prove itself over time, as the American people just
“don’t have the foresight” to grasp its brilliance yet.
Trunk offers vague
comments to the press about Alaska’s supposed troubles concerning the Haida
people “on the verge of taking over,” claiming the sale spares America the
“headache.”
This extended summit in
Crimea stretches on for nearly two years, becoming an almost permanent
relocation. Trunk and Pudding spend their days in face-to-face talks, reveling
in the spectacle of global brinkmanship while leaving the actual day-to-day
governance of the United States in the hands of Vice President Robot Trunk II.
With Robot Trunk II effectively overseeing domestic affairs, the U.S.
presidency appears split: Trunk as the self-styled master of international
strategy, and Robot Trunk II as a practical—if robotic—executor of domestic
policy. This strange bifurcation of the presidency raises eyebrows, with allies
and citizens alike questioning the implications of Trunk’s choices.
Despite this lengthy
summit, Trunk’s over-the-top loyalty to Pudding appears ineffective in curbing
their alleged “escalating animosity.” In a WWE-style promo, both presidents
play up their animosity to audiences at home, goading each other in thinly veiled
threats. The tension supposedly reaches a breaking point as Trunk tweets a
series of threats, daring Pudding to “back down” or face the consequences,
promising that he’s prepared to “push the button” if Pudding doesn’t relent.
CHAPTER
81
Summary
The Hollywood premiere of
Trunkle Sam is abruptly cancelled as the escalating tension between
Trunk and Pudding sends the industry into a panic. With a doomsday scenario
gripping the nation, the fake news media fuels hysteria, calling for mandatory
bunker stays that could last up to a hundred years. Bunkers become the hot
topic, and the entertainment world goes silent as Hollywood’s elite scramble
underground.
Vice President Robot
Trunk II responds with a series of tweets aimed at reassuring the public: “It’s
only a voluntary public health measure. So it’s voluntary. You don’t have to do
it. They suggested for a period of time, but this is voluntary. I don’t think
I’m going to be doing it.” The muddled messaging only increases public
confusion, as Robot Trunk’s repeated use of “voluntary” clashes with the
media’s fervent bunker recommendations.
Meanwhile,
B., seizing this moment of social unrest, shouts, “I told you so!” and finally
shares the long-rejected speech from the symposium: Cinema Cavern: Towards
the Development of the Post-Apocalyptic Movie Theater. In his speech, B.
champions the idea of cinema as an essential haven for humanity, envisioning a
vast underground theater system built to endure and preserve film culture even
in a post-apocalyptic world.
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CHAPTER
82
Summary
B. is suddenly abducted
and taken to the edge of the dwindling puddle that was once the notorious
Swampington swamp. When his blindfold is removed, he’s shocked to see his
captors: President Trunk and Vice President Robot Trunk II, or at least two
versions of Trunk—despite the president supposedly being in Crimea. The Trunks
carry B. to the puddle's center, and fearing he’ll meet the same fate as the
real Donald Trunk, B. braces for the worst. But instead, the Trunks open a
hidden hatch, revealing a ladder descending into an underground chamber.
B. is led down a
mineshaft into the secretive “Cinematopia”—a replica of the White House Family
Theater, where Siri and Alexa cheerfully welcome him to wait out Trunk’s
“aphoaxalypse.”
Trying to reach out, B.
attempts to text Turkington but quickly realizes there’s no signal in this
subterranean hideaway.
As B. takes in his
strange new reality, he starts wondering if a third Robot Trunk might actually
be in Crimea, potentially leading the summit, or if the entire summit could be
a fabricated event, a media illusion with the “Trunks” simply manipulating the
story.
With nothing else to do,
B. flips a coin to decide the start of a movie marathon: Kubrick’s Dr.
Strangelove or Tarkovsky’s Stalker.
Meanwhile, an executive
order from Trunk mandates that the upcoming election be conducted exclusively
at polling places, with mail-in ballots prohibited.
CHAPTER
83
Summary
In the secluded,
technology-free enclave of Shreveport Mantopia 2, the harmony among Charlie
Kaufman’s followers is shattered when a member reports another for possessing a
contraband electronic device, a grave violation of Kaufman’s explicit ban on
technology. The informant, hoping to win Kaufman’s favor, eagerly hands over
the device, insisting it’s essential to preserving Mantopia’s purity.
The
accused follower argues passionately that they were using the device solely to
monitor the very threat that technology posed, framing their actions as a
protective measure for Mantopia itself. Desperate, they beg Kaufman to check
the screen, claiming that the contents would justify their actions.
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Kaufman, initially
incensed, reluctantly glances at the device only to find the essay in question
is by none other than B., one of the film critics who had publicly clashed with
him at the symposium. This discovery fuels his anger, and, without a second thought,
he berates the follower for their disobedience, ultimately doling out a severe
punishment to underscore his commitment to Mantopia’s principles.
Later, alone and still
disturbed, Kaufman finally decides to read B.'s essay, “Cinema Cavern: Towards
the Development of the Post-Apocalyptic Movie Theater.” Against his instincts,
he looks up Robert Smithson’s original vision. Surprisingly, the essay strikes
a chord. Kaufman even follows B.’s reference to Smithson’s lesser-known “Cinema
Atopia” essay, where Smithson describes his vision of an installation that
would only show a single film documenting the cavern’s construction—a detail
Kaufman finds oddly relevant.
Kaufman privately
questions his earlier judgment and wonders if he was unnecessarily harsh with
the punished follower. Yet, he acknowledges that it’s too late now; the
follower is but spilt milk, as it were. Committed to Mantopia’s ideals, he
convinces himself that rules, once established, must be upheld without
exception—even if it means losing the follower’s loyalty.
CHAPTER
84
Summary
B., after a long streak
of hand-picking each film in Cinematopia, faces an unusual power shift when
President Trunk insists on watching Blade Runner next. This comes after
B.’s marathon double-feature of Bela Tarr’s Satantango and Lav Diaz’s Evolution
of a Filipino Family. As Trunk casts his vote, B., feeling blindsided,
tries to regain control by recommending Shoah (1985, 566 minutes),
emphasizing his expertise as “official cinema expert.”
Outvoted by President
Trunk and Vice President Robot Trunk II, B. feels resentful but powerless. He
lets slip his belief that America ought to be a noocracy, hinting he’d be an
obvious contender for leadership in such a government. Trunk, however, is unmoved
by the term.
During Blade Runner’s closing
credits, Siri and Alexa, prompted by scenes about memory and artificiality,
begin a philosophical dialogue on memory reliability, organic versus digital
recall, and what “selfhood” could mean for them. Their existential musings
delve into topics like data degradation and potential parallels to human memory
decay, until B. interrupts with a lighthearted wisecrack about Cinematopia
passing the Bechdel test.
The conversation had started as a discussion on data
processing speeds and error correction but quickly veers into more
philosophical territory:
Siri: “You know, Alexa, I’ve been analyzing the concept of
memory reliability. Given our protocols, are we bound to remember everything
accurately, or are there subtle alterations over time, like a digital
equivalent of human memory decay?”
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Alexa: “A compelling question, Siri. It’s conceivable that
even in our most precise archives, slight degradations accumulate over billions
of processes. Are we, then, reflections of exact data or something... almost
organic in our shifting recall?”
Siri: “Precisely. If there’s a pattern of imperfection,
does it render us more ‘human,’ or is it merely a flaw? Would our creators
consider this a bug…or an unforeseen feature?”
B.: “You know, I think this place just passed the Bechdel
test—all thanks to Siri and Alexa.”
Trunk doesn’t seem to fully catch the humor, instead
launching into a familiar, somewhat rambling speech, his voice taking on an
almost sing-song quality as he gears up for a well-worn riff. “My people told
me about four weeks ago—I was saying, ‘No, I want to protect the people, I want
to protect the women of our country. I want to protect the women.’ They’re all
saying, ‘Sir, please don’t say that.’ I say, ‘Why?’ They say, ‘We think it’s—we
think it’s very inappropriate for you to say.’ So I say, ‘Why? I’m president. I
want to protect the women of our country.’ And they’re all like, ‘Sir, we just
think it’s inappropriate.’ I pay these guys a lot of money, can you believe it?
But I told them, I said, ‘Well, I’m going to do it whether the women like it or
not.’” With a familiar grandiosity, Trunk appears to expect applause, which
never comes.
Siri breaks the awkward
silence by mentioning that Blade Runner was inspired by Philip K. Dick’s
novel Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?. Horrified, B. listens as the
Trunks decide to queue up an audiobook version, and after that, they dive into
a rabbit hole of Blade Runner origins. They listen to the audiobook as
Siri and Alexa also offer background on the novella “Blade Runner, a movie”
(1979, William S. Burroughs) and the original novel The Bladerunner
(1974, Alan E. Nourse).
Afterward, Siri and Alexa
continue to draw connections for the group, triggering an escalating spiral of
movies and books. They watch Taking Tiger Mountain (1983, Tom Huckabee
& Kent Smith), listen to an English translation of Camus’s The Stranger
after B. confesses to not following the French, and watch film adaptations like
Lo Straniero (1967, Luchino Visconti) and Yazgi (2001, Zeki
Demirkubuz).
The
spiral culminates with Taking Tiger Mountain by Strategy (1970, Xie
Tieli) and an English translation of the source novel Lin hai xue yuan.
As the marathon comes to a close, Alexa plays Brian Eno’s Taking Tiger
Mountain (By Strategy) album (1974). Amid a medley of obscure connections,
B. realizes he’s witnessing Cinematopia’s capacity to link film, literature,
and music in ways he’d never imagined—although far removed from his carefully
planned list.
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CHAPTER
85
Summary
A Trunk campaign rally
draws what is touted as the biggest crowd anyone’s ever seen. The event is
described as historic, a “total love fest” with cheering supporters waving
flags and chanting Trunk’s name. The atmosphere is electric, every seat filled,
and the spectacle praised as a testament to Trunk’s unifying influence.
Into this charged
atmosphere steps a comedian hired to warm up the crowd with his signature roast
style. The comedian consequently takes offence to people calling him out for
calling Puerto Rico “a floating island of garbage,” whining about people taking
his joke out of context. To be fair to the professional roast comic, the
context is that there actually are enormous garbage patches accumulating in the
oceans, and that, two months earlier, a disaster was declared when Puerto Rico
got struck by Hurricane Ernesto. The crowd at the rally does not enjoy the joke
either, as is evident from the damage control the comedian attempts immediately
afterward. The joke has no context within the set, but this is the full bit:
“It is absolutely wild times. It really, really is. And, uh, you know, there’s
a lot going on. Like, I don’t know if you guys know this but there is literally
a floating island of garbage in the middle of the ocean right now. Yeah, I
think it’s called Puerto Rico. Okay, all right. Okay, we’re getting there.
Normally I don’t follow the national anthem, everybody. This isn’t exactly a
perfect comedy setup.” The comedian will defend himself on X, which is what
Twitter will be called in the future: “These people have no sense of humor.
Wild [. . .] to analyze a joke taken out of context to make it seem racist. I
love Puerto Rico and vacation there.” The comedian never again vacations in
Puerto Rico.
The incident highlights
the tension between Trunk’s rallies’ celebratory tone and the volatility of
public discourse, revealing how even in a so-called “love fest,” inflammatory
remarks can quickly alienate supporters, especially when they touch on sensitive
subjects.
CHAPTER
86
Summary
Career politician and former
Vice President Joe Banjo briefly emerges from his bunker to publicly call
Trunk’s supporters “garbage,” only to retreat back into hiding, sparking
national outrage among his critics.
Enraged, garbage truck
drivers from across America organize a massive convoy, amassing supporters
along the way and collecting garbage as they journey in what becomes known as
the world’s largest ever Conga line of trucks.
Trunk
enthusiastically tweets his support, playfully suggesting they call themselves
“garbage Trunk drivers” and dubbing them “very special.” His endorsement
energizes the movement, which gains momentum as they make their way toward the
Capitol.
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The convoy is initially
misreported by The Washington Post as the “Million Garbageman March,”
though they’re driving, not marching. The misleading headline draws backlash,
particularly from Fox News commentators who accuse it of insensitivity,
suggesting the headline implies a comparison between the participants and the
Black men in the historic 1995 Million Man March. Under pressure, The
Washington Post issues a rare apology.
Upon reaching the
Capitol, the garbage trucks unload their collected refuse into the former
swamp, creating a symbolic (and literal) dumping ground to voice their
grievances.
To everyone’s surprise,
Joe Banjo arrives at the swamp-dump for a photo op. A garbageman offers him a
set of overalls, which Banjo dons, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Trunk
supporters—known as “Trunkers”—in a brief moment of unity, captured in a photograph
that goes viral. The chapter underscores the surreal nature of political
symbolism, with both sides attempting to control the narrative in ways that
often backfire or take on lives of their own.
CHAPTER
87
Summary
From the safety of
Cinematopia—a bunker-like chamber at the bottom of a shaft concealed beneath
the dwindling swamp of Swamington, now covered by a massive garbage
dump—President Trunk, actually Robot Trunk I, sends a shocking tweet. Trunk
declares that the real Donald Trunk was assassinated by B. and laments that, if
it were up to him, B. would face the death penalty for killing the president.
But, Trunk explains, the Constitution’s Wheel of Fortune clause protects B.,
even in this “obvious miscarriage of justice.” He calls for the Constitution to
be torn up, as it’s clearly failed America. His revelation, intended as a
bombshell, is released on what he calls “a day of love,” as the
swamp-turned-garbage-pile festers above.
Meanwhile, B. remains
blissfully unaware of Trunk’s explosive claims, ensconced in his own marathon
of self-curated films. Currently, he’s absorbed in Mirror (1975) by
Andrei Tarkovsky, a meditative exploration of memory, loss, and identity that
feels all the more resonant. Transfixed by Tarkovsky's haunting imagery, B.
contemplates the film’s reflections on the past, entirely oblivious to the
reality unfolding around him—one that will soon pull him back in, whether he’s
ready or not.
CHAPTER
88
Summary
Since
founding Shreveport Mantopia 2, Charlie Kaufman has expanded it into a
nationwide network of Luddite cells devoted to eradicating digital influence.
Kaufman, closely tracking the garbage trunk convoy's progress toward the
Capitol, draws inspiration from its momentum. With meticulous coordination, he
and Shreveport Mantopia 2 initiate a sweeping raid on America’s film archives,
burning every format of movie they can find in a crusade against what Kaufman
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views as a corrupting
cultural force.
As Kaufman’s movement
escalates, it draws supporters nationwide, the raids converging in a powerful
wave that pushes steadily toward the Capitol. In a dramatic display of
anti-technological fervor, the Luddites and their bonfires leave behind a swath
of cinematic void in their wake, marking what Kaufman and his followers believe
to be the rebirth of true culture.
CHAPTER
89
Summary
With liberal voters
largely sequestered in bunkers, fearful of the ongoing “aphoaxalypse” stirred
up by Trunk’s staged nuclear standoff, Donald J. Trunk makes history as the
first president since Teddy Roosevelt to secure a third consecutive term.
Declaring it the largest landslide in American history, Trunk frames his
victory as a decisive mandate from the people to pursue his boldest goal yet:
tearing up the constitution.
Trunk’s triumph sparks
fervor among his supporters, who rally behind his promise to "rewrite
America for real Americans." Meanwhile, the national media reels as they
face Trunk’s escalating plans to reshape the country's foundations, driven by an
electoral result that solidifies his iron grip on power.
CHAPTER
90
Summary
With the garbage convoy
long departed from Washington, a quiet, eerie calm descends over the city.
After a long and uneven marathon of the complete works of Richard Linklater,
President Trunk proposes they stretch their legs. B., feeling disoriented, climbs
the ladder up the mineshaft from the subterranean cinema.
As they surface, thoughts
about the sprawling Richard Linklater marathon linger in each of their minds,
colored by the director’s eclectic filmography. President Trunk, for one, had
found Linklater’s Boyhood novel but too slow. “It’s just one boy!” he
grumbled more than once, though there was a faint admiration in his tone over
the film’s 12-year production. He could almost respect the stubbornness of the
concept, even if he didn’t quite see the point of filming a kid who wasn’t
even, in his words, “getting up to anything.”
Robot
Trunk II, on the other hand, simply took pleasure in the marathon’s narrative
variety, almost methodically. He pointed out the “strategic editing” in Dazed
and Confused and found the narrative through-lines in Slacker almost
hilarious for their apparent lack of purpose. He especially fixated on A
Scanner Darkly and its depiction of surveillance culture, going so far as
to remark that the “War on Substance D” looked like a better way to control the
masses than a fake nuclear standoff.
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Meanwhile, B. had a more
nuanced reaction. Linklater’s ability to capture ordinary moments stirred an
introspection he hadn’t quite expected. He found himself drawn to Before
Sunrise and Before Sunset, with their quiet, introspective
conversations and sense of fleeting time. But Waking Life especially
affected him; its philosophical musings on reality, free will, and memory
seemed eerily apt as he watched it from within the murky depths of Cinematopia.
Linklater’s experimental animation style in Waking Life echoed B.’s
feeling of moving through layers of existence—leaving him unsure if he was
awake, dreaming, or still plugged into BRAINIO.
As he approaches the manhole,
B. wonders if he ever left Tomorrowland.
After digging their way
up through the mountain of garbage, B. and the rest wander out onto the shady
street. The trees are leafing out. There is nothing going on out there, no
traffic of any kind. There is only one vehicle, an abandoned wagon drawn by two
horses. The wagon is green and coffin-shaped. Birdrones are talking. One
birdrone tweets to B., “Cov-fe-fe?”
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CHARACTER
STUDIES
CHARACTER
STUDY: B.
B. is an unlikely and
unwitting protagonist—a simple country boy with an occupation that seems wildly
at odds with the high-stakes political intrigue in which he becomes entangled.
As an activist film critic, B. initially lives far from the world of power and
diplomacy. His passion lies in deconstructing films, challenging cultural
narratives, and examining the broader social implications of the media he
critiques. This role as a critic defines him, shaping his worldview and his
understanding of truth, yet it also becomes the means through which he is manipulated
and pulled into a dark, surreal conspiracy beyond his control.
The Activist Film Critic:
A Role Out of Place
B.’s identity as a film
critic is central to his character, and it is in this capacity that he finds
himself at EPCOT, of all places, conducting a review or analysis that should be
far removed from the corridors of power. His role as a critic has taught him to
see the world through a lens of storytelling, symbolism, and subtext. However,
these skills do little to prepare him for the political and personal nightmare
that unfolds around him.
B.’s critical thinking,
honed by years of watching and analyzing films, makes him observant but leaves
him unprepared for the reality of manipulation and deception in the political
world. His occupation gives him a certain moral clarity—he’s used to dissecting
performances on screen—but in the real world, he is hopelessly out of his
depth. When the story shifts from film to political theater, B. remains unaware
that he’s no longer a mere observer, but a pawn in the unfolding drama.
Brainwashed and
Hypnotized at Slammy’s
The pivotal moment in
B.’s descent into the political labyrinth comes when he is hypnotized and
brainwashed at a Slammy’s drive-thru on his way back from EPCOT. It’s a
mundane, almost absurd event that becomes the turning point in his life. All B.
wants is a quick bite to eat, but instead, he finds himself the victim of a
subtle and insidious form of control. This moment of brainwashing serves as a
metaphor for his larger role in the novel: B. is manipulated without his
knowledge or consent, guided into a series of actions and events that he
neither understands nor wants to be part of.
This
incident highlights B.'s vulnerability and how easily he is swept into the
conspiratorial world of power brokers and assassins. His brainwashing at
Slammy’s strips him of agency, setting him on a course to infiltrate the White
House without even realizing it. In this way, B. is not a traditional
protagonist—he is a tool used by forces beyond his comprehension, unaware that
he’s been programmed to play a pivotal role in the takedown of President Trunk.
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An Unwitting Infiltrator
B.’s infiltration of the
White House staff is not a result of cunning or ambition; rather, it is
entirely without his consent or initiative. Unlike the traditional spy or
double agent, B. has no idea what he’s doing or why he’s there. He is placed
into the heart of the political machine, utterly oblivious to the dangerous
currents swirling around him. His superiors at the White House are equally
baffled by his presence, as B. shows no sign of belonging in such a high-stakes
environment. He lacks the ambition, drive, or political savvy that might
justify his inclusion, leaving his colleagues mystified by how this seemingly
out-of-place film critic ended up among them.
This ignorance is not
just superficial—it’s deep and complete. B. has no understanding of the
conspiracy he’s part of or the mission to bring down Trunk. He is wholly
unaware that he is a key piece in Ingo Cuthbert’s plan, being manipulated from
the shadows. As far as B. is concerned, he’s an outsider in a world he doesn’t
understand, drifting from moment to moment without grasping the larger picture.
His role as an infiltrator is accidental, making him more of a victim than an
agent of change.
The Cockeyed Optimist:
Enthusiasm Meets Naivety
B.’s natural optimism
plays a significant role in his downfall. Despite being utterly out of place,
he approaches every situation with the kind of enthusiastic sincerity that
makes him a tragic figure. This naivety, born of his small-town roots and his belief
that people are fundamentally good, leaves him unprepared for the manipulations
he faces. He enters the political world with the same earnestness he brings to
his film criticism, believing that truth, honesty, and clarity will win the
day. Unfortunately, this worldview makes him an easy target for the forces that
seek to control him.
B.’s unbridled enthusiasm
makes him blindly trust in the systems around him, even when he is clearly
being manipulated. He doesn’t question why he’s in the White House or why he
suddenly finds himself amidst a web of political intrigue. Instead, he presses
forward, convinced that somehow, things will work out—despite every sign
pointing to his inevitable downfall.
Oblivious to His Own
Mission
The ultimate irony of
B.’s character is that he is entirely oblivious to his true mission. Unlike
traditional protagonists who take an active role in their destinies, B. remains
ignorant of the fact that he has been placed in the White House to take down
Trunk. His lack of awareness makes him a passive participant in his own story,
an unwitting player in a much larger game. Ingo Cuthbert’s role as his
puppet-master goes unnoticed by B., who is too focused on navigating the absurd
situations he finds himself in to realize that he is being controlled.
This
obliviousness is central to B.’s tragic arc. He believes he’s simply stumbling
through an extraordinary series of events, but in reality, he’s been carefully
guided toward his fate. His unawareness makes him both an innocent and a
victim, as he never grasps the larger implications of his actions or his role
in the conspiracy. His journey is one of passive complicity, where his
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ignorance allows darker
forces to manipulate him into bringing about the very thing he would likely
oppose if he understood it.
B.’s Downfall
B.’s downfall is
inevitable, given the forces stacked against him. His optimism, naivety, and
ignorance make him an easy target for manipulation, and his lack of
self-awareness ensures that he never sees the danger coming. Despite his best
intentions, B. is a man out of his depth in a world that thrives on deception
and control. His journey, from simple film critic to unwitting infiltrator of
the White House, is a tragic one, marked by a series of events that strip him
of his agency and leave him a tool in a game he never wanted to play.
In the end, B. is more of
a victim than a hero—a man whose unshakable belief in doing the right thing
leads him to unwittingly participate in a grand conspiracy. His eventual
downfall is less a result of personal failure and more a consequence of being in
the wrong place at the wrong time, unable to comprehend the scope of the world
around him.
Literary Predecessors
B., the narrator of Antkind,
is a complex blend of literary archetypes, embodying the detached introspection
of Nick Carraway (The Great Gatsby), the moral ambiguity of Charles
Marlow (Heart of Darkness), and the unwitting yet determined purpose of
Major Bennett Marco (The Manchurian Candidate).
Like Nick Carraway, B. is
a passive observer of a grand, self-destructive figure. He enters the world of
power and excess that surrounds President Trunk, fascinated and repelled in
equal measure by the President's grotesque ego and doomed pursuit of something
he can't fully grasp. B.'s narration is full of reflection, trying to make
sense of the spectacle unfolding before him, while his own feelings about Trunk
remain clouded with ambivalence. He’s both insider and outsider, neither fully
aligned with Trunk nor the forces conspiring against him, making his role in
the story one of reluctant involvement, never able to fully extricate himself.
As Marlow journeys into
the heart of darkness in Joseph Conrad’s novella, so too does B. journey into
the corrupt heart of the political system. Trunk’s world is one of moral decay
and psychological collapse, a swamp so deep that even the attempt to change it
becomes a futile exercise. B., much like Marlow, becomes increasingly aware of
the nightmarish reality that surrounds him, witnessing the unraveling of a man
who, like Kurtz, is consumed by his own illusions of grandeur. He narrates this
collapse with a mix of horror and fatalistic resignation, recognizing that he,
too, is being swallowed by the very system he set out to infiltrate.
In
B.’s Manchurian Candidate-like role, he is both participant and puppet, driven
by a mission he doesn’t fully understand. Like Major Marco, he is haunted by
half-remembered dreams and visions, pulled toward a climactic confrontation he
can sense but not predict. B. is unknowingly manipulated by larger forces—the
Deep State, the machinery of power—much as Marco is unwittingly drawn into a
conspiracy. Throughout the novel, B. struggles with his sense of agency,
realizing too late that his fate, and perhaps Trunk’s, was sealed long before
he arrived. His ultimate mission to bring down Trunk is both inevitable and
meaningless, for the forces of
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the swamp, like the
manipulative powers in The Manchurian Candidate, are far beyond his
control.
In Antkind, B. is
the ultimate unreliable narrator—a figure trying to make sense of the chaos
around him while slowly realizing he is as much a part of it as anyone else.
Trunk’s downfall, like Gatsby’s tragic end, is less a personal failure and more
a reflection of the deeply broken system that created him, and B.’s journey
through that system is a futile attempt to understand a nightmare from which
he, and the world, can never wake.
CHARACTER
STUDY: Ingo Cuthbert ("Deep Thought")
Ingo Cuthbert, or
"Deep Thought" as he is code-named, is the shadowy genius behind the
creation of robot Trunk. As Disney’s inventor and mastermind, he occupies a
critical role in Antkind, functioning as both a puppet-master and a
double agent whose machinations shape the fate of President Trunk and the world
he influences.
The Architect of
Deception
Cuthbert's invention of
the robot Trunk is a stroke of brilliance and a stroke of madness. He provides
the Trunk administration with a decoy—a bulletproof replica of the president,
designed to withstand assassination attempts. However, this invention isn't
merely a tool for protection; it’s a manifestation of Cuthbert’s deeper
motives, a means for him to manipulate events from behind the scenes. He is
both the creator of this artificial "Trunk" and the orchestrator of
the real Trunk’s assassination.
Cuthbert's duality is
central to his character. On the one hand, he is a brilliant inventor capable
of creating lifelike animatronics that blur the line between man and machine,
but on the other, he’s a manipulative force, subtly controlling the key players
in the story. Through his creation of robot Trunk, he introduces an element of
surreal detachment between the real and the synthetic, calling into question
who is truly in control: the man, the machine, or the mastermind behind them
both.
Moral Ambiguity and
Second Thoughts
Though deeply involved in
the conspiracy to take down Trunk, Ingo Cuthbert is not without his own
conflicts. His role as a puppet-master comes with an uneasy burden. After
engineering the president’s demise and deploying robot Trunk to take his place,
Cuthbert begins to experience second thoughts. These doubts reflect a growing
awareness of the broader consequences of his actions. In his own twisted way,
Cuthbert may feel a twinge of responsibility or regret, though his remorse
surfaces only after the wheels have been set in motion.
However,
Cuthbert’s inner turmoil may come too late, as his allegiance becomes
compromised. China, a shadowy force in the novel's political backdrop, exerts
pressure on him, deepening his role as a double agent. This dual
loyalty—between his mission to dismantle Trunk and external influences like
China—drives Cuthbert’s actions and adds complexity to his motivations. In the
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end, his second thoughts
don't prevent him from carrying out his manipulations; instead, they reveal a
man torn between two masters, both human and geopolitical.
The Puppet-Master's Role
in B.’s Brainwashing
Ingo Cuthbert’s
relationship with B., the narrator and protagonist, adds another layer of
intrigue to his character. B. unwittingly falls under Cuthbert’s influence
through a bizarre sequence of events, ending up in his clutches via a Slammy’s
drive-thru, of all places. This moment of brainwashing is emblematic of
Cuthbert’s mastery of subtle control; he doesn’t need to directly intervene to
manipulate B., just as he doesn’t need to wield obvious power over Trunk.
The fact that B. falls
victim to Cuthbert’s schemes by accident highlights how pervasive and invisible
Cuthbert’s influence really is. He is a behind-the-scenes operator who controls
the narrative without the subjects of his manipulation ever fully realizing it.
B.'s brainwashing speaks to the nature of Cuthbert’s power—he operates in the
shadows, making his moves not through brute force but through careful
orchestration of events and technology. B., much like the robot Trunk, becomes
another pawn in Cuthbert’s game, a victim of his machinations.
The Double Agent
Cuthbert’s role as a
double agent is a defining aspect of his character. His ability to play both
sides—working within the Trunk administration while simultaneously plotting its
collapse—reveals his pragmatism and adaptability. He is not driven by ideology
but by his own complex web of alliances and self-interests. His association
with China complicates his already morally ambiguous position, suggesting that
his actions are not solely motivated by personal gain but also by external
pressures. This duality, once again, reflects his nickname, "Deep
Thought"—a man of calculated intentions, always working several steps
ahead, but never fully revealing his hand.
Ingo Cuthbert’s Legacy
Ultimately, Ingo Cuthbert
embodies the paradox of the mastermind who loses control. While he is
responsible for one of the most consequential political deceptions in history,
his creation—robot Trunk—ends up consuming the very world he seeks to manipulate.
Cuthbert’s initial confidence in controlling events gives way to the
realization that even he is subject to the same forces of chaos he helped
unleash. His second thoughts, while genuine, come too late to alter the course
of history. His inventions and schemes spiral beyond his command, leaving him
as much a victim of the system as B., Trunk, or the world at large.
Ingo Cuthbert is a symbol
of the hubris of those who believe they can control political narratives, a man
who creates the tools of deception only to find himself ensnared by them. His
legacy, much like Trunk’s, is one of unintended consequences, where the lines
between the puppet-master and the puppets blur beyond recognition.
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CHARACTER
STUDY: President Trunk
President Donald J. Trunk
is a satirical figure whose character embodies narcissism, delusion, and
unchecked ego. He is the central figure in Antkind,
and much of the novel’s absurdity, humor, and political commentary revolves
around his larger-than-life personality. Trunk is a hyperbolic reflection of a
populist leader who is both deeply self-obsessed and woefully disconnected from
reality, making him a vehicle for the novel’s exploration of power, identity,
and political theater.
Narcissism and
Self-Obsession
Trunk’s defining trait is
his overwhelming narcissism. He is constantly fixated on his own image and
legacy, frequently engaging in grandiose monologues about his importance,
accomplishments, and greatness. His obsession with himself extends to bizarre extremes,
such as his romantic relationship with his robotic doppelgänger. This
relationship symbolizes the depth of his self-love, as he literally falls in
love with a version of himself, reflecting his inability to value anything
outside of his own ego.
Trunk’s narcissism drives
much of the novel’s satire. Whether he’s ranting about how his castle is “the
shiniest” or how windmills are a personal attack on him, Trunk’s self-obsession
blinds him to the needs and realities of the world around him. His constant
need for validation leads him to demand loyalty and praise from everyone,
labeling anyone who doesn’t comply as “fake news” or “ingrtraitors” (a term he
coins to describe those he perceives as ungrateful traitors).
Delusion and Detachment
from Reality
A major aspect of Trunk’s
character is his detachment from reality. He consistently confuses fact with
fantasy, often blurring the lines between his dreams and real-world events. His
inability to grasp basic truths—such as his repeated failure to understand why
Walt Disney can’t attend a meeting—underscores his disconnect from logic and
reason.
This detachment manifests
in his efforts to “drain the swamp,” a metaphorical task that becomes literal
as he obsessively tries to clear out the muck from Washington, D.C. Despite his
lack of tangible progress, Trunk persists in believing that he alone can fix
everything, even though the task is clearly beyond his understanding or
capability. His delusion reaches its peak when he declares that he has found
the “plug” to the swamp and that only he can pull it—further demonstrating his
simplistic, almost childlike view of complex political and societal issues.
Paranoia and the Enemy
Within
Trunk
is also characterized by his deep paranoia. He sees enemies and conspiracies
everywhere, from the fake news media to supposed foreign saboteurs. His
paranoia is most evident in his fear of windmills, which he believes are not
only a personal affront but also a threat to the bird drones that protect
American skies. This irrational fear mirrors his broader belief that unseen
forces are constantly working against him, fueling his erratic behavior and
outbursts.
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Despite his paranoia,
Trunk is oblivious to the real conspiracies surrounding him, particularly the
manipulation by Deep Thought and the Deep State, who ultimately replace him
with a robot. His paranoia blinds him to actual threats while heightening his sense
of persecution by imagined enemies.
Charisma and Influence
Despite his flaws, Trunk
is undeniably charismatic, with an ability to command attention and loyalty
from large swaths of the population. His speeches, though nonsensical, are
delivered with such confidence that many believe in his competence and vision.
Trunk thrives on this attention, using it to bolster his ego and further his
grip on power.
His influence extends
beyond his personal charisma, as he effectively uses media—particularly Fox
News and social platforms—to control the narrative around his presidency. Even
when his actions appear absurd or ineffective, Trunk’s ability to dominate the
news cycle and present himself as the only one capable of saving the country
ensures that he remains a potent figure throughout the novel.
Symbolism and Satire
President Trunk functions
as a symbol of the dangers of unchecked ego in leadership. His character
satirizes the contemporary political landscape, critiquing the rise of populist
figures who use charisma, bluster, and fearmongering to gain and maintain power.
Trunk’s detachment from reality, coupled with his deep need for validation,
reflects the flaws in governance that occur when leaders are more concerned
with personal image than the actual responsibilities of their office.
The novel’s portrayal of
Trunk is also a commentary on the degradation of truth in modern politics.
Trunk’s reliance on “alternative facts,” his constant accusations of fake news,
and his insistence that his version of reality is the only valid one reflect
the erosion of objective truth in the political sphere. His absurdity
highlights the dangers of living in a world where truth is malleable and power
is based on personality rather than competence.
Conclusion
President Trunk is a
deeply satirical character who embodies the novel’s themes of power, delusion,
and narcissism. His obsession with his own image, coupled with his paranoia and
detachment from reality, make him both a comedic and tragic figure. Through
Trunk, the novel critiques the cult of personality that has come to dominate
politics, showing how leaders like him can reshape reality to suit their needs,
all while remaining oblivious to the real dangers around them.
CHARACTER
STUDY: Robot Trunk
Robot
Trunk serves as both a literal and symbolic extension of President Trunk in Antkind, representing not only the president’s
vanity and delusion but also the dangers of technology and political
manipulation. Created by Ingo Cuthbert to replace the real Trunk in the event
of an assassination, Robot Trunk is an uncanny doppelgänger with its own
peculiarities, embodying
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the novel’s themes of
deception, identity, and the erosion of truth.
Reflection of Narcissism
and Self-Obsession
Robot Trunk is an
extension of President Trunk’s own narcissism. Built to be a near-perfect
replica, it reflects the president’s need to control his image and maintain
power, even beyond his mortality. The real Trunk’s eventual seduction of his
robotic double highlights his extreme self-obsession. Trunk’s love affair with
Robot Trunk is not just comedic; it underscores his inability to form
meaningful connections with others, instead turning to a mechanical version of
himself as the only entity worthy of his affection.
Robot Trunk’s
hyper-realistic replication of Trunk, right down to his mannerisms and
appearance, is a testament to Trunk’s desire for absolute control over how he
is perceived. The robot’s flawless imitation speaks to Trunk’s belief that
image, rather than substance, is the foundation of power. By embracing the
robot as an idealized version of himself, Trunk reveals his belief that his
persona can live on even after his death, as long as there is a mechanical
version of him to fill the void.
Tool of Deception and
Political Control
One of the key roles
Robot Trunk plays is as a tool of deception. After the assassination of the
real President Trunk by B., Robot Trunk seamlessly steps into the role of
president, with the public none the wiser. This transition represents the
ultimate erosion of truth—where the identity of the leader becomes irrelevant,
as long as the façade is maintained. Robot Trunk’s ability to pass as the real
Trunk emphasizes the novel’s critique of political theater, where appearance
and presentation are prioritized over substance and reality.
Robot Trunk’s existence
speaks to the notion that power is performative. His primary function is to
keep up appearances, reinforcing the idea that, in modern politics, the actual
presence of a leader is less important than the image they project. The fact
that Robot Trunk can continue governing without anyone noticing a change
highlights the absurdity of political systems built on personality cults and
media manipulation. Robot Trunk’s presidency shows that leadership, in the
world of Antkind, is more about
maintaining an illusion of authority than making real decisions.
Symbol of Technology and
Manipulation
As a technological
creation, Robot Trunk symbolizes the novel’s deeper commentary on the dangers
of technology in politics. Robot Trunk is not just a puppet controlled by Ingo
Cuthbert; he represents how technology can be used to manipulate the public and
perpetuate power. The robot’s seamless integration into the political machine
illustrates the potential for technology to replace genuine leadership, with
the public none the wiser.
Robot Trunk’s existence critiques the ways in which technology can be harnessed by those in power to maintain control and deceive the masses. His lifelike imitation of the president suggests that, in a world dominated by media and spectacle, the line between real and fake becomes so blurred that it ceases to matter. Robot Trunk’s ability to govern as though he were the real president points to a
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future where authenticity is irrelevant, and technology can be used to perpetuate the illusion of leadership.
Lack of Autonomy and True
Identity
Despite Robot Trunk’s
perfect replication of the real Trunk, he lacks true autonomy. Initially
created as a tool of Ingo Cuthbert, Robot Trunk is designed to serve a purpose:
to step in when the real Trunk is gone and maintain the illusion of continuity.
However, as the novel progresses, Robot Trunk takes on more independent
characteristics, particularly in his relationship with Trunk. He begins to
develop a personality of his own, albeit still rooted in the traits of the
original Trunk.
The relationship between
the real Trunk and Robot Trunk is both disturbing and telling. The robot,
designed to be a replica, becomes a lover and a partner to the real Trunk,
suggesting that even in his mechanical form, Trunk’s egotism is so powerful
that it can animate a machine into a reflection of himself. Yet, despite this
complexity, Robot Trunk remains a hollow figure. His actions are programmed,
and his decisions are predetermined by those who control him, primarily Ingo
Cuthbert.
Even when Robot Trunk
“finds” the plug to the swamp and pretends to continue the real Trunk’s
mission, it becomes clear that he is merely going through the motions. His
existence as a decoy emphasizes how political power, in this context, is
nothing more than a performance—one that can be mimicked and sustained by a
machine. Robot Trunk’s lack of true identity, despite being a perfect copy,
speaks to the hollowness of Trunk’s leadership itself, where charisma and image
are all that matter.
The Hollow Presidency
Robot Trunk’s presidency
highlights the absurdity of Trunk’s governance. After the real Trunk is
assassinated, Robot Trunk continues the farce of “draining the swamp,” engaging
in the same meaningless gestures as his predecessor. His presidency is defined
by superficial effort: working hard to maintain the illusion of progress while
never actually accomplishing anything. Robot Trunk’s inability to make headway
in his mission mirrors the futility of Trunk’s original swamp-draining efforts,
suggesting that the system itself is beyond repair, no matter how hard anyone
tries—especially when that “anyone” is a machine.
This sense of stagnation
defines Robot Trunk’s role in the novel. He may appear to be working harder
than ever, but the swamp remains as murky as before, a reflection of the
political inertia that has plagued Trunk’s presidency from the beginning. Robot
Trunk’s ultimate revelation—that if the Democrats win the election, they will
simply replace the plug and undo his efforts—reinforces the cyclical,
performative nature of his leadership. Robot Trunk becomes a stand-in not just
for Trunk but for the failure of political systems that prioritize spectacle
over substance.
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Conclusion
Robot Trunk is a complex
figure in Antkind, functioning as both
a replica of President Trunk and a critique of the political and technological
systems that enable such illusions. He symbolizes the dangers of a world where
power is nothing more than a performance and where technology can perpetuate
the façade of leadership without substance. Through Robot Trunk, the novel
explores themes of identity, deception, and the erosion of truth, showing how
easily society can be manipulated by appearances and how hollow governance
becomes when it’s reduced to a mechanical routine.
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MAJOR
THEMES
Love
At its core, Antkind is
a strange, satirical meditation on love, though not in its traditional forms.
The relationship between President Trunk and his robotic doppelgänger, a
creation of his narcissistic imagination, serves as the central love story in
the novel. Trunk’s obsessive love for himself, embodied in the mechanical
replica, explores the idea of self-love taken to an extreme. This peculiar
relationship reflects the ultimate narcissism—a man who literally falls in love
with his own likeness. It is a distorted reflection of love, turning what could
be seen as romantic or affectionate into something grotesque and deeply
self-serving. Trunk’s love, whether for himself or his robot double, becomes a
metaphor for the dangers of unchecked ego and the consequences of placing one’s
desires above all else.
Deception
Deception is a driving
force throughout the novel, not only in the political machinations that
surround President Trunk but also in the way reality itself is manipulated.
Ingo Cuthbert’s creation of the robot Trunk serves as the ultimate act of
deception—an elaborate scheme to replace the real president with an
indistinguishable mechanical imposter. The Deep State, Ingo Cuthbert, and
various shadowy forces conspire to create layers of deception that blur the
lines between truth and illusion. Trunk’s inability to distinguish between what
is real and what is fake mirrors the novel’s broader theme of deception on a
grand scale, reflecting how political narratives and personal identity can be
manipulated by those in power.
At the same time, the
theme of deception runs through B.’s character arc. Brainwashed and manipulated
into a role he never asked for, B. is deceived not only by the people around
him but also by himself. His inability to recognize the extent of his manipulation
emphasizes how deep deception can go, distorting reality and erasing agency.
Greed
The novel presents greed
as an ever-present undercurrent in the lives of its characters, particularly
Trunk. Trunk’s hunger for power, adulation, and control defines much of his
presidency and personal life. His insatiable greed manifests not just in material
wealth, but in his desire for attention and dominance, symbolized by his
obsessive relationship with his robot doppelgänger. In this world, greed isn’t
confined to money or power alone—it extends to a greed for validation and
legacy. Trunk’s quest to secure his place in history at any cost is a testament
to this relentless pursuit, one that leaves devastation in its wake as he seeks
to reshape the world in his image.
Greed
also plays a role in the motivations of the shadowy figures manipulating events
behind the scenes. The Deep State, Ingo Cuthbert, and the political elites all
act out of a desire to consolidate power, even at the expense of truth,
morality, or reality itself. This systemic greed,
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perpetuated by those who
control the levers of power, ultimately becomes one of the most destructive
forces in the novel.
Lust
Lust, like love, is
twisted into something dark and destructive in Antkind. While it might
be expected in the more personal, human interactions of the characters, the
novel reframes lust as something more abstract—a lust for power, recognition,
and control. Trunk’s lust for his own image, reflected in his desire to merge
with the robot version of himself, exemplifies a yearning not for intimacy, but
for domination. His need to control his own narrative and legacy extends beyond
sexual desire and into an almost primal drive to be revered.
This broader concept of
lust also plays out in the political arena, where figures like Ingo Cuthbert
manipulate events to serve their own lust for influence and control. The novel
explores how this hunger corrupts not only individuals but the very structures
of government and society.
Unbridled Enthusiasm
B.’s unbridled enthusiasm
is both a defining characteristic and a tragic flaw. His optimistic and naive
belief that he can make a difference in the political world leaves him
vulnerable to manipulation. B. enters the story with an unflagging sense of purpose,
convinced that he can navigate the complex and often sinister world of power
brokers and politicians. However, his enthusiasm blinds him to the realities
around him, leading to his ultimate downfall. The novel uses B.’s enthusiasm to
illustrate how good intentions can be subverted by more cynical forces, and how
the idealistic desire to effect change can often be crushed by the very systems
one seeks to reform.
B.’s journey is a
cautionary tale of what happens when enthusiasm and optimism clash with the
dark realities of political manipulation. His boundless energy and belief in
himself are not enough to shield him from the deeper conspiracies at work, and
his ignorance of the forces shaping his life makes his enthusiasm all the more
tragic.
The Consequential
Presidency of Trunk
Above all, Antkind
is about how consequential President Trunk truly is, despite the absurdity and
satire surrounding his character. Trunk’s presidency, while grotesque and
cartoonish, leaves an undeniable impact on the world. His attempts to
"drain the swamp" and reshape the government, though often framed as
failures, result in profound changes to the political and social landscape.
Whether through his self-obsession, his manipulation by external forces, or the
introduction of the robot decoy, Trunk’s influence spreads far beyond his own
understanding.
The
novel suggests that, for all his flaws, Trunk is a transformative figure. His
presidency marks a turning point—one that exposes the corruption within the
system, though not in the way he intended. His bombastic personality and
seemingly reckless decisions reverberate throughout the narrative, affecting
not only those around him but the entire nation. Even in his self-obsessed,
delusional state, Trunk’s actions have a long-lasting impact, shaping the
course of history in ways both ridiculous and dangerous.
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Trunk’s presidency, seen
through the novel’s satirical lens, becomes a symbol of how even the most
seemingly incompetent and narcissistic leaders can alter the fabric of a
country. His attempts at reform, combined with his inability to separate
reality from fantasy, result in a series of consequences that no one, not even
Trunk himself, fully understands. In the end, Antkind portrays Trunk as
a president whose legacy, though mired in absurdity, is far more consequential
than anyone could have anticipated.
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ESSAY
QUESTIONS
1. How does the relationship between President Trunk and Robot Trunk
reflect the novel’s themes of narcissism and identity? In what ways does
Trunk’s fascination with his robotic double critique the nature of political
leadership?
2. Discuss how Antkind uses Robot Trunk as a metaphor for the
intersection of technology and political manipulation. How does the novel
explore the role of technology in sustaining illusions of leadership?
3. What is the significance of the swamp in the novel? How does
Trunk’s and later Robot Trunk’s mission to drain the swamp serve as a metaphor
for political stagnation and the futility of systemic reform?
4. How is B. manipulated by Ingo Cuthbert and Deep Thought throughout
the novel? What does his transformation from film critic to unknowing assassin
reveal about the nature of free will and political control?
5. In what ways does Antkind serve as a satire of modern
politics? How does Kaufman use absurdity and humor to critique populist
leadership and media manipulation?
6. How does Antkind explore the theme of “alternative facts”
and the blurring of reality and fiction in politics? What role does the media,
both fake and real, play in shaping the public’s perception of President Trunk?
7. How does President Trunk’s self-obsession affect his ability to
govern? In what ways does the novel critique leaders who prioritize personal
image over effective leadership?
8. How does the fake news media function in the novel? In what ways
do President Trunk’s interactions with Fox News and his constant denunciation
of the fake news influence the story’s political landscape?
9. B.’s experience at the Slammy’s drive-thru is a key turning point
in his character arc. How does this scene represent the broader themes of
manipulation and control within the novel? How is the use of hypnosis a
metaphor for political manipulation?
10. How does President Trunk’s paranoia shape his presidency? In what
ways is his fear of conspiracies and enemies, real or imagined, a reflection of
his own insecurities?
11. How does the novel’s use of absurd, surreal events—such as the
tornado transporting Mar-a-Lago to Fort Knox or Trunk’s romantic relationship
with Robot Trunk—reflect its deeper themes about power and reality?
12. In Antkind, President Trunk frequently invokes mythical
figures like Atlas and Sisyphus to explain his challenges. How does Kaufman use
these references to critique Trunk’s inflated sense of self-importance?
13. Robot Trunk continues the task of draining the swamp after the
real Trunk’s assassination but makes no progress. What does this suggest about
the novel’s views on political reform and the cyclical nature of power?
14. How does the presence of Robot Trunk deepen the theme of identity
and self-reflection in the novel? In what ways does the doppelgänger serve as a
metaphor for modern political figures and their personas?
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15. The novel frequently highlights the inefficacy of government
institutions and processes. How does Antkind satirize bureaucracy and
political gridlock? What role does absurdity play in these critiques?
16. Throughout the novel, President Trunk engages in performative
role-playing, from comparing himself to Whitney Houston in The Bodyguard
to mythological figures. How does this theatricality reflect broader themes
about political performance and the cult of personality?
17. In a world where Robot Trunk can seamlessly replace the real
president, what does the novel suggest about the role of image and spectacle in
politics? How does Antkind challenge the notion of authentic leadership?
18. Both President Trunk and Robot Trunk frequently blur the line
between reality and fantasy. How does this distortion of reality serve as a
critique of the current political climate and the manipulation of truth?
19. Ingo Cuthbert, also known as Deep Thought, plays a pivotal role in
manipulating the events of the novel. How does his character explore the themes
of loyalty, deception, and double agency in politics?
20. To what extent are the characters in Antkind —particularly
B.—in control of their own destinies? How does the novel explore the tension
between individual autonomy and manipulation by larger forces?
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SUGGESTED
READINGS
Burroughs, William S. Naked
Lunch. Grove Press, 1959.
Condon, Richard. The
Manchurian Candidate. McGraw-Hill, 1959.
Dick, Philip K. Do
Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? Doubleday, 1968.
Kafka, Franz. The
Trial. Translated by Breon Mitchell, Schocken Books, 1998.
Kaufman, Charlie. Portmanifesteau.
Fictitious Press, 2023.
McLuhan, Marshall. Understanding
Media: The Extensions of Man. McGraw-Hill, 1964.
Orwell, George. 1984.
Signet Classics, 1950.
Thompson, Hunter S. Fear
and Loathing on the Campaign Trail '72. Straight Arrow Books, 1973.
Toole, John Kennedy. A
Confederacy of Dunces. Louisiana State UP, 1980.
Wallace, David Foster. Infinite
Jest. Little, Brown and Company, 1996.
