If the movie created by AI.
Trevor Reznik stepped out of his car and made his way to the factory, his sneakers scuffing the pavement as he walked. He worked the graveyard shift and this place was his second home. Inside, the clanking of metal and the hum of machines filled the air. Trevor made his way to his station, his steps heavy and lethargic. The lack of sleep was taking its toll on him, it had been a year since he’d last slept.
He clocked in, somehow managing to focus on his work amidst his exhaustion. He’d become so accustomed to the darkness and noise that it became white noise to him. But he wouldn’t be able to push the exhaustion aside for long. He could feel the fatigue in his bones and he wondered how much more his body could take.
Trevor was woken from his trance by a loud crash of metal behind him. He wobbled as he got to his feet, the exhaustion making his steps slow and clunky. He peered through the darkness to find the source of the noise, and he saw a man standing at the far end of the room. He instantly recognized him as the new hire, but there was something off about him. He seemed to be taking great interest in the machines, closely examining each one.
After a few moments, the man noticed Trevor and quickly made his way to him. “Hey, I’m looking for someone who can help me out with some of these machines.” He motioned to the machines and continued, “I need you to show me how to use them.” Trevor reluctantly agreed, but he couldn’t help but feel uneasy.
Trevor showed the man how to use the machines, but he still felt suspicious. He couldn’t shake the feeling that the man was up to something. After a few hours, the man thanked him and said he was done for the night. Trevor watched him leave, wondering who the man was and why he was so interested in the machines.
The next day, Trevor found himself at the factory again and he was surprised to see the man once again. He was examining the machines and scribbling down notes. Trevor approached him and asked what he was doing, and the man told him he was collecting data for a research project. Something still seemed off, but Trevor just shrugged it off, figuring he was just being paranoid.
The weeks passed and the man continued to visit the factory, but Trevor still couldn’t shake the feeling that he was up to something. As he began to clean up at the end of his shift one night, he noticed something strange. A series of yellow sticky notes had been plastered all over the machines, with the words “Trevor Reznik” written on them. He was shocked, and he quickly pulled them all off.
He pocketed the notes and drove home, shivering despite the humid summer air. He knew he needed to find out what was going on and why his name was on those notes. Little did he know, this was only the beginning of a conspiracy much bigger than he could have ever imagined.
INT. FACTORY – DAY
The factory is loud and bustling with activity. Trevor Reznik sits alone, bent over a machine, diligently working.
SOUND: Machines whirring and beeping
Suddenly, Trevor hears a voice.
Watch your back, Reznik.
Trevor looks around. No one is there. He shakes his head, and stares back at his work.
INT. APARTMENT – DAY
Trevor sits at his kitchen table, its surface cluttered with yellow sticky notes. He’s thin and haggard, a pale imitation of himself. He takes a calculator and stares at it for a moment.
SOUND: Clicking of keys
Trevor’s face changes to one of distress. He takes a pen and paper, scribbling something down on a sticky note before affixing it to the wall.
EXT. FACTORY – DAY
Trevor is walking toward the factory with a hoodie obscuring his face. He looks around warily, as if expecting someone.
Suddenly, a hand grabs Trevor’s shoulder.
Trevor spins around, panicked. It’s his co-worker Ivan.
Whoa! Easy, dude.
Trevor takes a deep breath and forces a smile.
Hey, Ivan. What’s up?
Nothing. Just wondered why you’re so jumpy these days.
INT. APARTMENT – NIGHT
Trevor is slumped in a chair, eyes wide open. He’s been there all night, unmoving.
SOUND: Ticking of a clock
Suddenly, the phone rings. Trevor jumps and answers it.
You better watch your back, Reznik.
Trevor gasps and hangs up the phone, his face a mask of terror. He bolsters himself, scribbling something down on a sticky note, his hand shaking.
FADE TO BLACK