Episode transcript - “FORGIVE ROOT”

ADAM RAYMONDA: Windfall Would not be possible without Her Majesty’s gracious Proximans.

[SFX - An announcement chime dings.]

WANDA: We’d like to offer some thank you to Antigone Brickman who’s been teaching Bimble how to sword fight in the royal gardens. Which has been wonderful, cause Bimble has had far too much energy recently, and now she comes in, and she’s exhausted, and she passes out without bothering me. So thank you Antigone for the support, and for teaching Bimble how to sword fight.

ADAM: Pledge your devotion over at patreon.com/roguedialogue

ADAM: Hey everyone, Adam here, if you missed our little announcement a few weeks ago, this is a crossover special with Forgive Me!, a dramatic comedy podcast also created by Rogue Dialogue Productions. You don’t need to listen to Forgive Me! before you hear this, but if you want to, we’ve got links for you in the shownotes. One more thing before we start: this episode is showing up in both feeds, and each one has a unique ending, so if you want to hear the other side of this story, go check it out in the Forgive Me! feed.

[MUSIC: A mashup of the Forgive Me! and Windfall theme songs plays.]

[SFX: A futuristic version of the confessional curtain opens and closes as footsteps approach. There is a synthy whoosh under the conversation.]

ROOT: (disoriented) Where on Proxima—

FR. BEN: Oh good! There is somebody else here. I was convinced I was alone for a minute there.

ROOT: You’ve taken me out of my cell? What is this? Some kind of new interrogation chamber?

FR. BEN: (chuckling) I’ve never been here before either, but it looks a lot more like a confessional to me.

ROOT: So we’re playing semantics, then? What is an interrogation, if not a series of unwillingly provoked confessions?

FR. BEN: Huh, I suppose you do make a good point.

ROOT: If you’re so familiar with these confessionals, what is the purpose of this partition between us?

FR. BEN: It’s for the anonymity of it all. We find that privacy helps people open themselves up to their own vulnerability in a way that may be otherwise difficult for them.

ROOT: That’s nonsense. I have nothing to be vulnerable about.

[SFX: Root frustratedly rips open the privacy screen.]

FR. BEN: My lord! You’re… blue. And are those… tentacles on your head? 

ROOT: (scoffs) You act as if you’ve never seen a Proximan before.

FR. BEN: … That’s because I haven’t.

ROOT: So, if you’re not with the humans who captured me, which, from the looks of your pitiful rags, does make a certain sort of sense… who are you?

FR. BEN: (defensive) These aren’t rags, thank you very much. And I’m just a friend. Someone who can act as a guiding light for lost souls looking to connect with the Lord.

ROOT: Hmm… the Lord. It’s fascinating to think that there’s a whole species of you, out there, worshipping something bigger than yourselves. Living your lives just like Queen Wanda, when my people have spent the last several decades treating Her Majesty as nothing less than a God herself. 

FR. BEN: (chuckling) Now, I may not personally be able to speak for this Wanda, but I can confidently say that if she looks like me? She’s not God.

ROOT: Of course, she isn’t! What do you take me for? Some kind of plebe? I said my people, didn’t I? I didn’t say me. While I may know how to seek power for myself by riding the coattails of others, that doesn’t mean I follow their word blindly like some common sheep. 

FR. BEN: If I can be so bold, you’ve mentioned that before you found yourself wherever it is we are, you were in a cell. If you’re really that powerful, what got you locked up in there in the first place?

ROOT: (sighing) Hubris in the face of my world’s new masters. I’ve been punished for trying to sail along with the winds of change, rather than knowing my place and keeping to the status quo, as it were.

FR. BEN: We’re still keeping things purposefully vague, then?

ROOT: (offended) I’ll give you specifics when I feel you’ve earned them. If you aren’t one of them, and you’re instead, some lowly prophet from one of their religions, what makes you qualified to give someone as decorated as me advice? In this world or any other?

FR. BEN: Woah now, whoever called me a prophet? I think I’m pretty good at what I do, but I would never go so far as to say that.

ROOT: (annoyed) Oh good, he’s modest.

FR. BEN: (humbled) I like to think so— 

ROOT: That wasn’t a compliment.

[SFX: Root shuffles and stands.]

FR. BEN: Where do you think you’re going?

ROOT: Those idiots, wherever they are, left me here without my shackles. I’ve been looking for my chance to escape, so it seems like now must be it.

FR. BEN: You can’t do that.

ROOT: (determined) Just you watch me.

[SFX: Root rips the door open in front of him. He runs down a long corridor as an alarm begins to blare. As Root comes upon another door, he opens it and dives in. The alarm fades away.]

ROOT: How the…?

FR. BEN: I told you, you couldn’t do that.

ROOT: I don’t know what kind of devilry it is that you humans command, but this is not funny. I have already told your overlords time and time again that I have useful information for them if only I am released and treated with the respect that I deserve.

FR. BEN: That’s all well and good, but you’re not listening to me. I have nothing to do with whoever it is that put us here. And I am just as trapped as you are. I tried it all before you showed up; walking out the door, climbing through the vent in the ceiling, even smashing a hole into the wall—every way out just leads right back to here.

[SFX: Frustrated, Root begins to pound on the wall next to him.]

ROOT: (making an unintelligible whine) Why must they taunt me in this way? Dangle freedom in front of my face only to stick me in a new kind of prison with this… this roach.

FR. BEN: Okay, look, I think we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot. Can we start over? I’m certainly not going to try and convince you why you should listen to any advice that I have to give, but you seem like you’re having a rougher day than I am. And, if you’d be so willing, I can confidently say that I’m a good listener, at the very least.

ROOT: (begrudging) I suppose I’ve passed the time in worse ways.

FR. BEN: (relieved) Great, because as long as I’m here with you, I may as well make myself useful. (beat) Do you mind if I close this screen again?

ROOT: As you wish.

[SFX: Fr. Ben closes the curtain between them and gets more comfortable.]

FR. BEN: There, that’s better. So… what should I call you?

ROOT: I am Captain Octavius Root, the decorated Alpha Wolf of Her Majesty Queen Wanda’s Wolfpac, chief security officer over the entire city of Windfall. And before your more… militarized compatriots showed up, you couldn’t so much as sneeze within 100 clicks of her castle without me knowing about it. You may call me Root, for short.

FR. BEN: While none of that means anything to me at the moment, it all does sound rather impressive at the very least. You can call me Father Ben, if you were wondering.

ROOT: Hah! The last person I called Father didn’t fare so well. I think you’d probably prefer it if I kept it to just Ben.

FR. BEN: I’m afraid to ask you what that means.

ROOT: Eh, just that I’ve committed some light patricide in my day, that’s all.

FR. BEN: How does one commit light patricide? Isn’t patricide just… patricide?

ROOT: No, not exactly. Not if I’m not the one who pulled the trigger that ended his life. I’m just the one that set the pieces in motion so that it would.

FR. BEN: (increasingly concerned) I’m starting to think maybe it’s a good thing we’re trapped in here, away from anyone else you can hurt.

ROOT: (laughing earnestly) Oh, don’t worry, father, I’d say I’ve gotten all that gleeful patricide out of my system at this point. So… how does this all work? This, uh, this listening you do for other humans?

FR. BEN: Well, you’ve kinda already got it down. Folks usually come to me with whatever’s weighing on their soul at the moment. Whether that be a sin they’ve committed against someone else that they’re feeling guilty about, or just a traumatic experience they’re trying to process. In your case… I’d say that light patricide fits the bill. 

ROOT: But does it? By your own definition, you say that the sins committed should be weighing down on my soul. And, setting aside the simple fact that I don’t believe in the very concept of souls, killing my father? It’s never weighed me down. In fact, it did quite the opposite! For many years, that one action has quite literally lifted me up above almost every other Proximan on this planet.

FR. BEN: I have no idea how to begin unpacking all of that. But… Why don’t we go back to the beginning? What is it that drove you to have your father killed in the first place?

ROOT: My father was a stubborn sort. A heavy laborer from the time I was a small boy, and a principled one at that. 

[SFX: The echoey sounds of the confessional are replaced by the sound of heavy construction.]

ROOT: When the castle first appeared and the Wolfpac was just forming, he happily took the employment he was offered, building the towers they dreamed would one day reach up to her. He came home each night, sweaty and tired and bruised, but still, quite satisfied with the way it allowed him to provide for my mother and me. He took great pleasure in knowing that, with every beam of steel he laid in the pursuit of their ultimate goal, he was helping to create what he felt was a better life for his loved ones. At first, anyway.

FR. BEN: At first? What changed?

[SFX: The sound of construction dissipates and is replaced by synthy worship music.]

ROOT: The laws did. You see, my father, like you, was a religious man. He obviously didn’t worship whoever this Lord it is that you speak of, but he had an avowed love for the old gods of my planet. Kept a shrine to Medina in our home and everything. But the Wolfpac, as the years went on and they gained more power? Well, they began to outlaw the worship of the old gods, in favor of Her Majesty.

[SFX: A door smashes open as a guard enters.]

WOLFPAC GUARD: Alright, heathens, it’s time to shut down this little service of yours!

FR. BEN: I take it your father didn’t take to that change kindly.

[SFX: The synthy music fades and a large, crackling bonfire underscores the conversation.]

ROOT: No, he didn’t. And if it weren’t for my mother, he wouldn’t have taken to it at all. But she made sure he disassembled his shrine and burnt it out on the community pyre along with the rest of our neighbors. You see, we’d grown quite accustomed to the life that my father’s job had brought our family. And we were afraid, if he didn’t fall in line, we’d lose that status he’d spent years cultivating for us.

FR. BEN: And how did that make him feel?

[SFX: The fire disappears. We hear the sound of shots being poured and taken, one by one by one.]

ROOT: (laughing) My father? Like the shill he was. He kept his head down and, while he may have grumbled about it over the occasional dinner, went right back to work without speaking out. You see, there was a lot of talk and rumors of open rebellion at that point. People still thought of the Wolfpac as a fledgling organization that would one day crumble, and make room for the ways of the old world to re-emerge. But Pop wasn’t a joiner. Besides, he was petrified of what my mother and I would do to him if he did. 

FR. BEN: I’m guessing that fear of his wasn’t unfounded?

[SFX: The synthy, echoey drone of the confession returns.]

ROOT: No… no, it wasn’t. As I’ve said before, my mother and I had become quite comfortable with our lot in life. We saw the promise of the Wolfpac for what it was, early on. While Pop was home licking his wounds, we were marching right on down to the recruitment office and signing me up for my first role as a junior cadet in the Wee Wanda Scouts wing of the organization.

FR. BEN: How was he able to handle this abrupt heel turn? Did he lash out?

ROOT: Oh, quite the opposite. He gritted his teeth and smiled on my first day of boot camp. After mother had pressed my uniform and paraded me around the living room, he did his best to exhibit her same sense of pride. Even if I was committing myself to the very people who’d torn his religion away from him. He told me I looked “rather impressive” and wished me luck among my fellow cadets. Cadets who were all rather cruel to me, by the way, but that didn’t matter. Because mother knew that I was destined for greatness, and made sure to remind me of that every day when she sent me into work.

FR. BEN: Understood. So… what was the final straw, then? In committing this… light patricide you’re so obviously proud of.

ROOT: Mother and I had just… grown weary of his presence. He performed his fatherly duties admirably enough. We were well taken care of with three square meals and a roof over our heads, but we longed for more. And after she’d taken to accompanying me to martial arts practice, she developed a fondness for my General. And who could blame her? He was everything my father wasn’t: charming, well put together, and absolutely rich. So one day when he proposed for her hand in marriage, we set about figuring out a way to dispose of Pop.

FR. BEN: And what did that look like?

ROOT: It was rather brilliant, really. As I’d already told you, my father was a religious man. And though he’d eventually relented and burned his effigies to Medina along with the rest of our neighbors, it was rather easy for the General to help us acquire the materials to rebuild it deep within his closet. And just so happen to “discover” them as my new boss was joining us in our home for dinner. Father was arrested on the spot, much to his own confusion and dismay. Mother and I played our part, feigning shock at his presumed betrayal, all the while celebrating the Wolfpac officers present for ridding us of this blight upon our home.

FR. BEN: There was no part of you that felt guilty? For sacrificing the man whose labor brought you the original bit of wealth and status that you were protecting in the first place?

ROOT: Hnh, poppycock! He was an absolute, unequivocal disappointment of a man, and if I were given the chance at a do-over tomorrow? I wouldn’t change a damn thing.

FR. BEN: Did you ever see him again?

ROOT: Only once. It was after both his farce of a trial and my boot camp training were complete and I was given the first official posting of my very own. I was granted a brief leave in order to attend his execution, a day I had been counting down the minutes toward since I had first reported him. Upon my arrival, he begged me to help plead his case. To convince his jailers of his innocence and give him another chance at his mediocre existence. But that wasn’t what I was there for, no, the reason I attended was to watch as he took his very last breath.

FR. BEN: Wasn’t that traumatic? Witnessing the ultimate consequence of your actions?

ROOT: On the contrary, Ben. It was quite the opposite. I learned an important lesson that day. One that I’ve taken with me for the rest of my life, up till this point.

FR. BEN: And what was that?

ROOT: We’re only as powerful as we make ourselves out to be. And hardening yourself to that kind of truth? Nay, harnessing it? And realizing that you can take total control over your lot in life, if you just stop being so sentimental about it? That, if you can be willing to throw anyone around you in front of the bus, you can get whatever it is that you’re feeling you’re due? It’s intoxicating. The look on my father’s face that day? On the day he died by firing squad? It was priceless, and if I hadn’t been there to witness it, I don’t know if I’d ever have accomplished as much as I have in this lifetime.

FR. BEN: That’s an incredibly cynical way to make your way through the world

ROOT: Oh, perhaps. But it’s a powerful one, as well.

[SFX: There is a strained silence as Ben attempts to wrestle with the horrifying story he’s just heard.]

FR. BEN: So, where did your mother land in all of this? I know she had her sight set elsewhere at that point in time, but there must have been some small part of her that regretted sending the man she once loved to his death?

ROOT: She didn’t bat an eye. After publicly denouncing my father’s betrayal of our city’s values, she accepted the General’s marriage proposal, and scheduled their wedding ceremony for the very week after his execution. And, given that I was now a full-fledged Wolf, I was able to perform it myself. Neither of us could be happier with the situation. With Pop out of the picture, we were able to flourish. New clothes, new friends, new apartments. Every whim we’d ever wanted for taken care of, including ones we’d never thought to want for in the first place. We both understood the cost-benefit analysis of the trade we’d agreed to—one life for the world. And we never once hesitated.

FR. BEN: (disgusted) Are you sure it’s the General that your mother was looking to marry?

ROOT: I don’t follow you.

FR. BEN: Heh, no, I suppose you wouldn’t. Look, I’m not going to pretend I understand your predicament, current or otherwise. Religious persecution isn’t something that I can get behind, by any stretch of the concept, and neither is the death penalty, for any sin. You speak about this experience as if it has defined the man that you have become in your adulthood, and I can acknowledge that that is likely true… I just can’t hazard to say that it has done anything to make you a better or more empathetic person. 

ROOT: Hah! Whoever said I was trying to become better? I’m already perfect. Mother knows that. She’s always known it. And I have too.

FR. BEN: It seems to me like whoever locked you away may have felt otherwise.

ROOT: That’s beside the point.

FR. BEN: Correct me if I’m wrong, because we all know that assumptions just make an ass outta me, but I take it your father’s wasn’t the last life you ended?

ROOT: Hah, not by a long shot.

FR. BEN: And yet, you don’t just seem fine with that fact of yourself. You seem proud of who you’ve become.

ROOT: That I am.

FR. BEN: Try as I might, that won’t ever make sense to me. Though I must admit, there’s no part of me that’ll ever try THAT hard to empathize with a confessed killer.

ROOT: I’m not sure about wherever it is that you came from, but here? We live in a world of manufactured scarcity. I learned that from a very young age. There was no reason that my family had any more or less than the family across the street from us, other than the fact that my father was better at cozying up to the right kind of corrupt contractors in order to get the most lucrative jobs out there. There’s no way to become wealthy and powerful, without willfully taking something from people that you see as deserving of being below you. 

FR. BEN: (sigh) As much as I hate to say it, that doesn’t sound too different from home. But if it makes any difference at all, I don’t believe that it should be. Here, there, or anywhere else for that matter. 

ROOT: Then you never would’ve risen as high in Her Majesty’s ranks as I have. 

FR. BEN: I think that’s probably a good thing, if I’m being honest.

ROOT: Is it though? Would you really rather choose a life of poverty, over one of unlimited access?

FR. BEN: I mean, yes, quite literally. Part of my job entails forsaking personal wealth and romantic entanglements, in order to better serve both my God and my community.

ROOT: Hmm, sounds like a shitty job.

FR. BEN: Heh. I make it work. Why don’t you tell me more about yours?

ROOT: (proud) Ahh, the Wolfpac, how I miss it. Rising through the ranks, over the years? For some, it seemed like an impossible hill to climb. But for me? It was nothing but a walk in the park. There’s really something about whisper politics that just gets my juices flowing, if you’ll excuse me for saying it. I had no problem sniffing out the city’s many pockets of would-be revolutionaries and having them squashed like bugs, or framing a fellow recruit for treason, when we were both up for the same promotion. I have a bit of a disgusting talent for keeping my friends close and my enemies much, much closer, and for that, I’ve been consistently rewarded. It was all quite delicious, getting myself to a place where so many of Her Majesty’s devotees had to hang on my every single word. 

FR. BEN: So what changed?

ROOT: (deep sigh) Eventually, I flew too close to the sun.

FR. BEN: All of the ruthless killing finally caught up with you?

ROOT: Hah! Quite the opposite. You see my end? It was predicated by the destruction of a full skyscraper’s worth of my Proximan compatriots. 

FR. BEN: (horrified) That’s terrifying. Who other than Queen Wanda wields that much power in Windfall City?

ROOT: A stern, impressive woman named Timms with a fleet of warships at her fingertips. The moment we met, I tried to appeal to her kinder nature, with promises of my knowledge and influence over the Proximan people, but she had enough foresight to see what a danger someone as cold, calculating, and agreeable as me could pose to her legitimacy. 

FR. BEN: You’re telling me that you witnessed, with your own two eyes, as this Timms woman showed up and committed heinous war crimes, and then you immediately tried to cozy up to her?

ROOT: Yes.

FR. BEN: Wow. What kind of monster are you?

ROOT: (exasperated) Have you even been listening? I’m exactly the man I want to be.

FR. BEN: You know, I’m doing my best over here, hearing you out and trying to find a way to sympathize with you. To understand how someone can wake up one day and choose violence over and over and over again. And though you may argue that the path you’ve chosen was necessary, the ways in which you’ve weaponized your power over those less fortunate than you? Over your own father? Who, from your very description of him, sounds like a perfectly kind man. That’s just something that I cannot abide by. You and I are living two lives that run so unbearably counter to one another, that I don’t think there’s anything I can do to help you. And while I’d never be so bold as to say that I have the right to judge you myself, or decide your fate, there isn’t anything I can offer in the way of comfort to you either.

ROOT: Oh, but there is, Father.

FR. BEN: Oh? And what’s that?

ROOT: I’m not sure who put us both here, but I do know that two heads are better than one. You may not have been able to find a way out of this place on your own, and I may have ended up right back here on my escape attempt as well, but who knows what we could accomplish together?

FR. BEN: Ah.

ROOT: See? You don’t need to empathize with or understand me. All you have to do is stand up, open up that door, and help me figure out a way to get us both the hell out of here.

FR. BEN: (chuckling) I’m afraid I can’t do that.

ROOT: And why the fuck not?

FR. BEN: This Timms? Whoever she is? She sounds horrifying. And I hope that I never have the chance to cross paths with her. But her decision to lock you up? I can confidently say that that was a good one. And while we may not be on Proxima right now? I’m sure that this is a better place for you to be than out there, or in any world, free to cause anyone else any more willful harm.

[SFX: Ben stands and opens the door on his side of the confessional.]

FR. BEN: (staring down a new hallway) Huh, look at that. That wasn’t there before.

ROOT: (suddenly desperate, pleading) No, Father Ben! Wait! Come back! If you’ll just help me, I promise, I promise I’ll reconsider my actions! I’ll do anything I can to become the better person you so want me to be! Just don’t leave me here to rot!

FR. BEN: (calling back) I’m sorry, Root. I just don’t believe you.

ROOT: You spineless bastard! You’re just like the rest of them! Oh just you wait, just you wait until I get out of here. And trust me, I will get out of here. I’ll come for you! I’ll send you to hell just like I did my father!

[SFX: An alarm begins to play as Root laughs maniacally, but as it fades, the alarm shifts to the sound of a blaring clock.]

FR. KLEM: (from the other side) Get your ass up, Benji! I’m hungry!

FR. BEN: (yawning, sighing) I’m coming, I’m coming.

[SFX: Klem opens up the door.]

FR. KLEM: Jesus Christ, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.

FR. BEN: No, it’s nothing like that. But… before we go to Pat’s, I’ve got a question for you.

FR. KLEM: Oh? Make it quick, I’m so famished that I want that bran muffin, stat.

FR. BEN: Have you ever dreamed about a confession so terrifying that it shakes you to your very core? About a person so hateful, so willfully proud of their heinous acts, that you feel like you may have met the devil himself?

FR. KLEM: (laughing) Sheesh. Sounds like somebody’s gonna need a nap later.

FR. BEN: I’m serious, Klem.

FR. KLEM: And so am I! You’ve gotta take a break every once in a while, kid. I know you love this job and all, but lord is it not worth losing that much sleep over.

FR. BEN: (sighing) Yeah, I guess you’re right…

FR. KLEM: I am, now get dressed and ready in ten minutes or I’m leaving without you.

FR. BEN: Fat chance I’m letting you drive my car again after last week.

FR. KLEM: (shaking his keys in the air, laughing) I’d love to see you try and stop me!

[SFX: We hear the sound of twinkling chains before someone enters the room in a huff.]

ROOT: (SLEEPILY) No! No! Come back here, you stupid whelp!

WOLFPAC GUARD: (BANGING ON THE BARS) Hey! Hey! Wake up, Captain.

ROOT: (CONFUSED) What’s going on? Where am I?

WOLFPAC GUARD: Same place you’ve been these last few months, boss. You feelin’ okay? You were screamin’ pretty bad there for a minute.

ROOT: I must’ve been dreaming, but it felt so… real. Like my escape from these infernal conditions were finally within my grasp.

WOLFPAC GUARD: Seems like that would’ve made you a whole lot happier than you were sounding.

ROOT: In theory, yes, but there was another there. And he was standing in my way, as you bumbling idiots are wont to do.

WOLFPAC GUARD: Hey! I’d like to think you and I had a pretty good thing goin’, thank you very much, before you did whatever it was you did to end up in my care.

ROOT: We’d have a much better thing going, if you’d just take that key off your belt and let me out of here.

WOLFPAC GUARD: (SUCKING IN HIS BREATH THROUGH HIS TEETH) No can do, boss. For as much as I’ve always respected you, that new lady? She’s a cruel one, you know what I mean? I’ve got a daughter to consider.

ROOT: (GRUMBLING) When did all of you become so useless?

WOLFPAC GUARD: I’m just doin’ what you taught me, sir. Lookin’ out for my own interests, first and foremost. I’ll see you tomorrow. Feel better, okay?

[SFX: The guard starts to walk away.]

ROOT: Wait, come back! I’m sorry I was so harsh! Don’t leave me here, all alone! I don’t want to be alone anymore…

[MUSIC: Ending credits music plays.]

Windfall is a Rogue Dialogue production. This episode was written and directed by Bob Raymonda, Jess Clark, and Jack Marone

Here’s our cast in order of appearance: 

Josh Rubino Captain Root 
Casey Callaghan Father Ben + Wolfpac Guard #1

Dialogue Editing by Bob Raymonda.

Sound design, score, and mixing by me, Adam Raymonda.

All of the graphic design comes from Sam Twardy.

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