Vote Control

A Science Fiction Horror Homage to the Twilight Zone

Welcome to the Futuro Zone. Or Fuzo, if you’re in a hurry. Please enjoy my entry in the Substack Twilight Zone homage. Vote Control is written in the format of a graphic novel script. If you are a visual artist and would like to bring this to life, feel free to reach out. Otherwise, please use your imagination!

The Twilight Zone redefined storytelling, drawing audiences into the unimaginable. Now, 66 years later, top writers, artists, and musicians are stepping into its eerie glow with a fresh twist. Ready to see where they’ll take you?

Liz Zimmers | Edith Bow | Sean Archer | Bryan Pirolli | Andy Futuro | CB Mason | John Ward | NJ | Hanna Delaney | William Pauley III | Jason Thompson | Nolan Green | Shaina Read | J. Curtis | Honeygloom | Stephen Duffy | K.C. Knouse | Michele Bardsley | Bob Graham | Annie Hendrix | Clancy Steadwell | Jon T | Sean Thomas McDonnell | Miguel S. | A.P Murphy | Lisa Kuznak | Bridget Riley | EJ Trask | Shane Bzdok | Adam Rockwell | Will Boucher

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Page 1

Panel 1. A half page. Daphne watches the news, leaning against the counter in her kitchen. She’s blonde and green-eyed, her hair in curls. She wears a modest dress with a silhouette reminiscent of our 1950s, but oddly severe and in a muted navy. The era is a mystery; this looks like it could be your typical, suburban 1950s dwelling, but with futuristic elements.

The television is overlarge and ominous, lurking in a corner of the connected living room. The full color screen shows a fresh-faced young man strapped into an electric chair. His head lolls and his blue eyes wander, unfocused, as though he’s drugged. Underneath, a marquee reads, Vote Now! with a timer at 11 hours and 23 minutes, ticking down. Harold, Daphne’s husband, sits at the kitchen counter, his face buried behind a newspaper.

Daphne: He looks like a nice young man.

Panel 2. A close shot of Harold still behind his newspaper. None of the headlines are visible, but we see vague photos of tanks rolling through rubble.

Harold: He’s dead meat is what he is.

Panel 3. Daphne throws her coffee cup into a trash compactor, where we glimpse broken dishes and other cutlery, along with food scraps. Another hint this world isn’t quite our own.

Daphne: Well, I’m not voting for him.

Panel 4. The paper folds up and crashes to the counter. Harold’s face, red with anger, is revealed. He’s in his early forties or a hardscrabble thirties, jowly and suidaen. He wears a pinstripe gray suit and looks like your typical corporate hatchet man.   

Harold: Not this again!

Harold: You'll do your civic duty and vote.

Page 2

Panel 1. Close shot on Daphne. Her green eyes flash with anger. Her finger aims at the ominous TV in the background. This is a familiar argument. An astute observer might notice the ring on her finger is a black diamond. Little clues abound that we are in the Futuro Zone.

Daphne: I'm not voting for that nice-looking young man!

Daphne: We don't even know what he did.

Panel 2. Harold picks up a remote control from the counter. It’s heavy and metallic, with a single red button in the middle. This is the vote control.

Panel 3. He turns the button until it clicks, a slow, deliberate, intentional movement that disables the safety.

Panel 4. He aims the remote at the TV.

Harold: He's up for execution.

Harold: That's all you need to know.

Panel 5. A close shot of his finger, pressing down the button.

Panel 6. The button dings merrily and turns green.

Page 3

Panel 1. A shot of Harold with his arms out, aiming the vote control at the screen. Daphne’s upset is written on her face. An air of suspense hangs over the room, as though something could or should happen, but the timer on the screen keeps counting down, and the only change is the color of the button.

Daphne: I don’t know how you can be so cold.

Panel 2. Harold stalks to the TV.

Panel 3. A close shot of the mechanism underneath the screen of the TV. Here we see two berths, each of them labeled with a name: Harold Hershmeir #0004729743-55 and Daphne Hershmeir #0004729743-56.

Panel 4. Harold’s hand reaches into the berth labeled Daphne and takes out the vote control resting there.

Page 4

Panel 1. A low shot from just below Harold’s arm as he holds the vote control out to her. The vote control occupies the middle of the panel, looming, dominant, with Daphne’s face in the background staring down at it as though it were feces or a dead animal — something unimaginably repellant.

Harold: Press the button. Let me see you do it.

Panel 3. Daphne takes the vote control.

Panel 4. And drops it in her purse.

Daphne: I'll do it later, Harold. You know I always do.

Page 5

Panel 1. A full-page spread of the TV, the bright, colorful image of the man strapped into the electric chair. In the right corner, the counter ticks down to 11:17. In the left corner, two glitzy talking heads smile and yammer away happily.  

Page 6

Panel 1. Transition shot. The same image of the TV, now in a small screen in the center console of a car.

Panel 2. Zooming out we see Daphne driving, a shot from the rear windshield or the backseat onto the front. The car is spacious and luxurious, a 1950s-looking sedan, but again with elements of the strange. The hood ornament is a silver eagle. There are no seatbelts. The doors are oddly bulky, as though plated with armor.

Panel 3. An overhead shot from behind, the car driving through clean, verdant neighborhoods. Your wealthy, ticky-tacky suburbs.

Panel 4. Zooming further out, we see Daphne’s car turning onto an exit, a jughandle leading to the highway.

Pages 7-8

Panel 1. Shot from the passenger seat over Daphne’s shoulder, through the window, to the median of the jughandle. She’s looking at a high chain-link fence with razor wire on the top like a prison. It holds back a swarm of filthy wretches.

Panels 2-6. Shots of the encampment. Dirty, sagging tents. People shooting up, nodding off, drinking and stumbling and collapsing. Infants screaming, children with distended bellies and fathomless eyes staring at nothing. Men brawling, banging their heads against the links of the fence until they bleed, barking like dogs.

Panel 7. A man sticking his tongue through the gaps in the fence, wiggling it lasciviously, locking eyes with Daphne.

Panel 8. She quickly looks away and accelerates.

Page 9

Panel 1. Overhead shot of a grocery store. The perspective is that of a security camera mounted in the wall or ceiling. Everything is pristine and perfect.  White floors and neat rows of colorful products in perfect order. Bright, fluorescent lights. It has just the right number of patrons, not too many to be a crowd, and they're all smartly dressed, pushing shopping carts at a dignified pace.

Panel 2. Daphne from the side, looking down an aisle, close in. Her cart is sparsely filled with food items. We notice nothing is fresh or wholesome. There are no eggs, no vegetables, no milk, no bread. Everything comes in boxes, cartons, and cartridges. She's looking at rows of cereal with names like "Cowboy Crunch" and "Miner Meals." Her expression is far off, barely there, not quite focused on what she's doing. It's clear her mind is elsewhere.

Benjamin (Offscreen): Can I help you, ma'am?

Panel 3. A store attendant, in a red and white striped uniform, crisp and starched, with a folded white cap, almost like a sailor's cap. His name tag reads Benjamin. He’s eager, polite, and smiling, like a servant.   

Page 10

Panel 1. Daphne with a finger to her red lip, looking at the rows of cereal.  Benjamin in the foreground looking with her, eager like a dog.

Daphne: I don't see the Astro Oats. They're my husband's favorite.

Benjamin: I’ll see if I can find some for you.

Panel 2. Daphne looks up to a corner of the ceiling where a TV displays the news and on it she sees once again the face of the man who's scheduled to be executed.

Daphne: Such a shame.

Panel 3. She takes the vote control out of her purse.

Panel 4. She dials the big red button all the way to the right until it clicks, unlocking the safety mechanism.

Page 11

Panel 1. Daphne looks at the TV screen, aims her vote control, sighs, and begins to press the button.

Benjamin (Offscreen): Ma'am.

Panel 2. Daphne, startled, quickly puts the vote control back into her purse.

Daphne: Yes?

Panel 3. Benjamin, smiling nervously, wringing his hands.

Benjamin: I’m so sorry, ma’am, but we don’t have any Astro Oats in stock.

Benjamin: With the shortages…you know…

Panel 4. Daphne, discombobulated, still elsewhere in her mind.

Daphne: Oh, that’s okay. Thank you.

Page 12

Panel 1. An overhead shot of cars in bumper to bumper traffic, standing still.

Panel 2. Zooming in on Daphne’s car, we see her through the windshield, gripping the wheel with white knuckles.

Panel 3. Inside the car now, from her perspective. She’s looking at a police roadblock. Behind the roadblock we glimpse scattered, damaged vehicles, some still flickering with flames. Their sides are riddled with bullets. The vague shapes of bodies are visible through the windows. Offscreen, we have indications of screams and gunfire not too far away.

Page 13

Panel 1. Daphne rolls down her window and pulls up alongside the grim-faced police officer directing traffic. His uniform is blue and gray and martial. A rifle is slung over his shoulder.

Daphne: Is everything alright, officer?

Panel 2. The officer waves her towards an orange sign reading Detour.

Officer: Move along, ma’am.

Panel 3. Daphne looks down at the TV screen in her dashboard. It displays a cartoon depiction of a general smiling and giving a thumbs up. A speech bubble from his mouth reads, Everything is under control. Next to him is a half-circle meter with different settings. From left to right we see, Danger, Caution, and Safe! The needle aims at Safe!

Page 14

Panel 1. Daphne in the kitchen, wearing an apron. She’s unboxing an instant meatloaf, with a cartoon mascot eerily similar to the one on the TV screen of her car. The brand is General Meat. The tagline: A World War of Flavor.  

Panel 2. She bends over and places the tray into the narrow slot of a futuristic oven. It’s clear you couldn’t do much cooking from scratch with this thing — you’re reliant on the cartridge meals.

Panel 3. A shot from her perspective of an egg timer that shows ten minutes. In the background, we see the TV, still with the image of the man in the electric chair. The countdown timer also shows ten minutes in an eerie synchronicity.

Harold (Offscreen): Daph?

Harold (Offscreen): Daphy?

Page 15

Panel 1. Harold on the couch with a TV tray in front of him. He leans over the couch back to shout at Daphne in the kitchen.

Harold: Daphne, for Christ's sake, are you listening to me?

Harold: I need another martini.

Panel 2. Daphne goes to a wet bar at the far end of the kitchen counter and starts pressing buttons on a boxy machine with upside-down bottles sticking out of the top. A cursive logo reads Auto Sammy, with a cartoon depiction of a bartender shaking a mixed drink.

Daphne: Of course, dear.

Harold: Make it dry. You put too much vermouth in it last time.

Panel 3. A close-up of the machine. A little martini glass drops down from a slot and a stream of clear liquid pours into it.

Panel 4. Daphne brings the martini and sits side-saddle on the arm of the couch, handing it to Harold. Her movements are refined and delicate, a perfect performance of a dutiful housewife.

Daphne: How was work today, dear?

Page 16

Panel 1. Harold takes the martini without looking at Daphne and slurps.

Harold: What the hell do you care?

Harold: Did you get the Astro Oats?

Panel 2. Daphne looks away, over her shoulder.

Daphne:  They didn't have them.

Daphne: All they had were Cosmobrans.

Panel 3. Harold hurls his martini glass at the ground. It shatters on the shaggy carpet.

Harold: Goddamn it. You went to Kirchner's, didn't you?

Panel 4. A long flat overlay. We see a little round robot like a Roomba zip out of a hole in the wall and begin cleaning the broken glass.

Panel 5. Daphne’s face. Eyes wide, flushed, upset.

Daphne: Honey, Kirchner's is closer.

Daphne: If I go to Lepremio's, I have to go through the city. It’s not safe.

Page 17

Panel 1. Harold stands and with both hands knocks away the TV tray.

Harold: They always have Astro Oats at Lepremio's.

Harold: Goddamn it, what do you even do around here?

Panel 2. Harold throwing a phenomenal tantrum. He balls his hands into fists and shakes them at the ceiling.

Harold: The robot vacuums the floor; the meatloaf cooks itself.

Harold: I ask you to do one thing, one thing for me.

Panel 3. Daphne clings to his arms, tears streaming from her face.

Daphne: I'm sorry, I’m sorry. I'll go tomorrow.

Page 18

Panel 1. A shot from Daphne’s perspective, below Harold, arms clinging to him. He towers over her, menacing, ugly, evil-looking, red-faced and nasty.

Harold: You know what?

Harold: Forget the meatloaf.

Harold: I'm going out.

Panel 2. Daphne now looking flushed and angry herself.

Daphne: Going out where?

Panel 3. Harold stomps to the door, taking his hat and coat from the coat rack.

Harold: That's not your business.

Panel 4. Harold slams the door behind him.

Page 19

Panel 1. Insert on spread below. Daphne scurrying to the bar machine and grabbing the bottle of gin.

Panel 2. Full page. Daphne drinking straight from the bottle, the gush of tears smearing her makeup. In the background the egg timer dings on the kitchen counter. On the TV screen, we see the execution begin. The nice young man spasms and screams as arcs of electricity course through him.

Page 20

Panel 1. A shot from the side of Daphne in bed, in her nightgown, drooling on her pillow. The bottle of gin sits on the nightstand. The clock reads 4:55 a.m. From below issues a bang, and a crash.

Panel 2. Daphne sits up and pats the space on the bed next to her, but it’s empty.

Daphne: Harold?

Daphne: Is that you?

Panel 3. She stands up and huddles in her robe. Thump, thump, thump, comes up the stairs and down the landing. Footsteps.

Panel 4. Bright light leaks under the crack in the door.

Page 21

Panel 1. The door bursts open and the blinding beams of two military flashlights erupt from the threshold. Behind the beams, holding the flashlights, stand two tall shadowy figures.

Panel 2. Daphne steps back cowering, covering her eyes with her arm.

Daphne: Who are you?

Daphne: What do you want?

Panel 3. A close shot of a black-gloved hand flicking a light switch.

Panel 4. The lights go on and the flashlights wink out. The two men are revealed. They wear gray uniforms with black boots, black belts, and black gloves. The insignia of a red fist holding a ballot adorns their chests. Black masks reminiscent of executioner’s hoods hide their faces.

Agent 1: Daphne Hershmeir #0004729743-56.

Agent 1: Today’s election ended at seven o’clock p.m.

Agent 1: You have no overseas or military exemption.

Agent 1: You have officially failed to vote and will be taken into custody.

Page 22

Panel 1. A close shot of Daphne’s face twisted in shock and horror.  

Daphne: No, no. It's not true.

Daphne: I voted.

Panel 2. Daphne stumbles to her closet and grabs her purse.

Daphne: I voted.

Panel 3. She pulls the vote control out of her purse.

Daphne: Look! Look!

Panel 4. She falls to her knees and holds the vote control out to them desperately.

Panel 5. And looks down at it in horror. The button is still clearly red. The safety disabled, but the final step never taken.

Page 23

Panel 1. Another shot of the agents. They loom over her, larger than life, like demons or nightmares.

Agent 2: There are no errors in the election calculus.

Agent 2: Your vote was not tallied and not counted.

Agent 2: Therefore, you acquitted a known murderer.

Agent 2: Therefore, you yourself condone murder.

Agent 2: Therefore, you by your own hand have condemned yourself.

Panel 2. A shot of Daphne on her knees before them, from their overlarge perspective. She’s frantic, eyes practically popping out of their sockets. She holds out the vote control like a talisman that will save her.

Daphne: No, I voted.

Daphne: Look, look. The safety’s off. I tried!

Daphne: It’s a mistake. It’s all a mistake!

Daphne: I thought I voted. I thought—

Panel 3. Agent 1 grabs Daphne’s outstretched arm and jams a syringe into her bicep, pressing down the plunger.

Panel 4. Agent 2 yanks a black cloth bag over her head.

Page 24

Panel 1. Full page. Blackness. Nothing but blackness. But ever so slightly in the black, shapes, and faces, swirling nightmarish renditions of the cereal box characters: Captain Otis from Astro Oats. The cowboy from Cowboy Crunch. General Meat. Sally Soy. Etc...

Page 25

Panel 1. Black. Daphne’s perspective.

Panel 2. Dazzling white as the hood is yanked away. Vague shapes amidst the white as Daphne’s eyes adjust.

Panel 3. Daphne sits naked in an electric chair, arms and legs tightly locked into place. Her head lolls and her eyes wander from the drugs.

Page 26

Panel 1. From Daphne’s perspective, she looks out across a stage with dozens of cameras aimed at her and the dark, jeering mass of a live studio audience beyond the stage lights.

Panel 2. An announcer dressed in a glitzy blue suit with gelled hair steps into view.

Announcer: Ladies and gentlemen!

Announcer: The election is ready to commence!

Page 27

Panel 1. In the grocery store from the day before, Benjamin watches the TV screen, which shows Daphne strapped into the electric chair, with a countdown in the bottom right corner. He’s transfixed.

Customer (Offscreen): Excuse me, sir.

Panel 2. Benjamin startles as though he were being shocked.

Panel 3. He sees a kindly older woman smiling at him, pushing a shopping cart.

Customer: Do you have any Astro Oats?

End.

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