To sedate her she is stuck in the neck with a long needle... she recoils, grimaces, her hands clutching at herself, curling up like dying spiders. Electrodes are applied, buttons are pressed.
THE IRON BOX
We see Lavender closed into a coffin-shaped metal box, we see it lowered by mechanical arms into a slot in a cylindrical structure which turns out to be part of a rocket assembly. There is a view of a launch, scenes as the rocket travels into the darkness above the sky, whittling itself down, until at last it disgorges the box, now equipped with batlike wings of solar panels. It reaches its assigned point and brakes, spreads its wings, then jets itself into slow revolution. Time passes. It spins. Edge-on it almost looks like a crucifix. There is a tiny glass port at eye level and inside we see a square of light occasionally sweep across the eyes of the sleeping Lavender, whenever her prison faces the sun. We see tiny lights in the wall of the coffin. As we close on these, several light up brightly. Now we are somewhere else, an obvious war room/command center. Establishing shots, quick ones. We are looking at another control panel, and more bright lights suddenly appear. In a wider shot we are shown more wakening machines and are led to believe this is out of the ordinary. Key-controlled panels activate of their own accord, the empty locks turning in their sockets. Panic by the soldiers, spreading to the officers. Another rocket launch, then several... they arc in darkened heaven. Increasing disarray in the war room. In the box, Lavender's eyes slowly open. Panic in the war room, a light-up map with far too much activity. A view of Lavender's coffin, spinning. A flash in the clouds. Sudden panic stilled. Multiple flashes seen under the curved shroud of Earth's atmosphere. Lavender's eyes, reflecting these flashes like myriad firecrackers, indeed her face illuminated. More immediate flashes, clouds, suggestion of a characteristic mushroom shape. A general transfixed by something beyond and above the camera, as though regarding heaven, weeping. A city one moment, fire the next. Shot after shot of similar, but never as definite as the first one, all bursts of light and unidentifiable blackened bits, fire wind blowing, sometimes back to view from the clouds, but these are rare. Interspersed are segments of a shot of Lavender's mouth, darkly illuminated in the coffin's controls, swept once or twice by the peering square of light, the corner of her mouth gradually perking up into a grin/smirk/snarl, showing her normally cutely-pointed canine tooth, now as terrible as we know her to be. And now we see the darkened Earth. Then we see the winged box spinning, spinning in silent space, seemingly stationary. For a moment we see Lavender closing her eyes, the window's glare sweeping across them; she grins still. Spinning and spinning is the coffin, drifting in its orbit now. And then we see the front of the coffin thrown open to reveal a startled Lavender. It is opened by outside hands which beckon her to the sudden glare of a white world outside, a bright-white laboratory. The previous events have been a daydream? A hallucination? But we are sure that they didn't really happen.