Принцесса Атех

OUTLINE

Following 13 years of Labour rule, the Conservatives are about to take back Westminster. Plans to continue privatization initiated under Margaret Thatcher have been announced by the Conservatives during the campaign. Postal votes applications are flowing through the mail system.

Carla receives the letter from Uri, then questions herself about his existence.

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WOMEN'S W.C. LONDON CENTRAL MAIL CENTER

A dyed blond Royal Mail employee is taking a break at the headquarters's restroom. She cracks the window open, lights up a cigarette and talks to a pair of feet peeping out under a closed door.

-Bloody windows can't even open properly.

-You are playing with fire my dear.

-Who cares, next months we're out anyways...

The pair of feet turn around and the sound of flushing covers the end of the sentence. The blond lady continues as the noise fades out.

-So, who are they sending to Israel for the last letter?

-Well, it should have been Gurav but I guess because of his faith... his apparent faith I should say as I don't really know if he's Muslim, they've decided to send Elliott.

-Seriously, Elliott... He's a poof.

Coming out of the booth, the other employee heads for the sink.

-Well I guess they prefer sending a poof than a Paki as you would say. Anyways, who knows if he's gay, she says looking at herself in the mirror... You're just saying this because he's never responded to your overtures.

-You can't blame a skirt for trying, but I'm sure he is, answers the blond as she exhales through the half open window... Who wears a buttonhole!

JUNKERNGASSE, BERN, SWITZERLAND

Carla locks her bike in front of her building when an old lady walks out the door. She stands and moves out of her way.

-Good evening Mrs. Mahler.

-Oh, good evening young lady. I have to go buy butter, for the veal liver steak.

-But I think the grocery store is closed at this hour.

-No, no... It's not, I know, I know... answers the old lady with a smile. By the way, the postman dropped a letter in your mailbox this morning.

Not wanting to contradict the old lady and not really sure as to who of the two is the sanest.

-Oh, Ok, well thank you and good night.

CARLA'S APARTMENT, BERN

Entering her apartment, Carla drops her Frietag bag and keys on the table and sits down to inspect the letter which she just picked up from her mailbox. Baring a British Stamp and no return address, she cuts it open and find a short note clipped to a photograph of Uri, standing in front of a ship, in some African port judging from the skin color of the dockers around. She flips the photograph but sees nothing written other than Fujifilm Thermal Photo Paper. She then The note, looks back at the photograph, then the note, then the envelope again. She can't read the date on blurry postmark but notices 4 letter under the stamp: BIOT. Intrigued, she looks online and find a small town in France named Biot but then looks back at the Queen's portrait on the stamp. She scrolls down on her online search to find a more plausible match British Indian Ocean Territory. She locates it on a map and zooms out to realize that this is the most remote place one can imagine. She then looks back the photograph of Uri and notices the name of the ship behind him: ORAMA.

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