Written by Antoinette Johnson

[SCENE 1: “The Table of Sacrifice” – INT. LUXURY BOARDROOM, MIDNIGHT]

A long obsidian table lit only by a red glowing triangle in the center. Powerful execs sit in shadow—faces blurred, hands clasped, documents in front of them. An aspiring artist stands alone at the end of the table. Nervous. Hungry.

EXECUTIVE 1
We don’t want your voice.
We want your silence.

EXECUTIVE 2
You want fame? Give us something…
Or someone.

*A document slides across the table—The Contract.

—5

[SCENE 2: ME IN A STUDIO OF TRUTH]

I’m in a room filled with broken gold records, shredded movie scripts, and name tags from “stars” that no longer exist.

ME
Let’s get it straight—some of your favorite “artists” didn’t just blow up. They bled out.
They sacrificed family. Sold loyalty. Stole ideas. Gave away their spirit for a stream count.

Flashes of scenes show:

An actress in tears being told to “do what needs to be done” for a lead role

A producer signing off on a “tribute song” hours after their friend “mysteriously” passed

A rapper being forced to change their message from healing to violence—for “marketability”

—

[SCENE 3: THE ALGORITHM PRISON – INT. DATA WAREHOUSE]

We enter a matrix-like vault: servers stacked high, neon wires everywhere. Screens display stats—songs, streams, views, placements. Malik Nova walks beside me, scanning it all.

MALIK NOVA
This ain’t music. This is manipulation.
They got backdoors coded into every site—YouTube, Spotify, Netflix, TikTok.
It’s not what plays… it’s who they choose to let win.

ME
Ever wonder why you hear the same five artists? Same movie styles? Same messages?
That’s not demand.
That’s control.

—

[SCENE 4: REVEALING THE SNEAKY SELLERS]

Clips of known artists appear—glitches reveal their moments of betrayal:

One sold their sibling for a festival headliner slot.

Another got their big break after their best friend “vanished.”

A third was real… until they weren’t. Their tone, their message, their eyes changed.

SOLÈA (watching)
They wear crystals on red carpets but pray to greed backstage.

—

[SCENE 5: “THE LAST DEAL” – INT. SACRED CAVE]

*A burning contract floats before me. I walk forward with a new scroll—The Covenant of Truth.

ME
We don’t need your streaming farms. Your fake charts. Your backroom blood deals.
This is the last contract… and it don’t come with chains.

I sign it in gold light. The flames consume the old contract. A shockwave hits the data vault—it shuts down, permanently.

—

[ENDING SCENE: THE NEW PAY SYSTEM]

A new digital interface opens—powered by intention, authenticity, and purpose. Artists are paid by impact, not algorithm. Movies are streamed through energy-based portals. The crowd cheers.

ME
From this moment on, your soul ain’t for sale.
Your story is the currency. Your truth is the real deal.

> “The industry had its time. But we just launched the kingdom.”

To be continued…