The Process

by

Yi Zhong

Yi Zhong yi_zhong@emerson.edu
EXT. JEWISH CEMETERY - DAY

Opening Title: Prague, 1924

In the rain, FRANZ KAFKA’s funeral is being held. Among the

few attenders, MAX BROD, 40, all in black, stands at the
front holding an umbrella. In his left hand is a LETTER.

A RABBI dressed in traditional Jewish clothing recites

prayers.

RABBI
I lift my eyes to the mountains, from
where will my help come?

Kafka’s FATHER, an old man dressed in black, cuts off the

black ribbon on the coffin. He is accompanied by Kafka’s
MOTHER, who, also in black, is holding an umbrella for him.

RABBI (CONT'D)
My help will come from the Lord, Maker
of heaven and earth.

Kafka’s parents are joined by Brod, and together they start

to place dirt on the coffin with SHOVELS.

The Rabbi is still reciting prayers. However, staring at the

coffin, Brod is lost in his thought:

FRANZ KAFKA (V.O.)

I just need more time, Max...They are
not good enough. And if I failed them,
if they remained a shame, then they
shall be destroyed. No one shall ever
read them again!

Dirt has covered the coffin. A COCKROACH crawls out from the
dirt. Most people go their own ways.

Brod meets with Kafka’s parents. He shows them the letter.

BROD
Did you know--

KAFKA'S FATHER
--My son had made countless mistakes
in his life, and I advise you not be
the accomplice for his last
one...Those writings are...

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BROD
So did you understand any of them?

Kafka’s Father is silent.

Brod leaves them.

INT. BAR - NIGHT

Brod and his two friends gather at a table. FRIEDRICH, 32, is

tall, blonde, handsome and well dressed. He stands up to make
a toast.

FRIEDRICH
Sorry I wasn't at the funeral, I
had...things to attend to. To make up
for that, I shall drink up: to our
beloved friend, Franz Kafka.

People drink, Friedrich shows his empty cup, sits down, and
starts to play with his pocket watch.

WILLEM, 31, dressed in a rigid plaid shirt, stares at his own

half-filled cup. He frowns.

WILLEM
I can't believe Franz said that!

FRIEDRICH
What?

Brod looks up but does not respond.

WILLEM
Didn't you know? Franz sent Max a
letter before he died...He told him to
burn all of his manuscripts!

FRIEDRICH
Is he mad? Don't listen to him, Max,
I'd say you are one of the best
writers in Prague right now.

WILLEM
No, not his! Franz's! And it's been
tormenting Max whether to do as Franz
said.

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FRIEDRICH
You got his manuscripts, Max?

BROD
They were sent to me yesterday.

FRIEDRICH
...Pfff...then maybe just follow his
wish. I mean...he was a great lawyer
and colleague, don't get me wrong, but
as a writer, he was just a crackpot
writing for himself...

WILLEM
What do you mean?

FRIEDRICH
Imagine: one morning you wake up in
your bed, and these two weird men just
come to your house to arrest you. With
no charge or evidence. What is that
supposed to mean? And that's how one
of his novels starts.

WILLEM
Well, for me it sounds kind of funny--

BROD
(slightly annoyed)
--Franz never meant to be funny, or
incomprehensible.

A moment of silence.

BROD (CONT'D)
Franz sees problems in the court
system...and the world, even. His work
is essentially a critique of them,
and--

FRIEDRICH
--Yeah...I know...he's a bit cynical.
He even names his protagonist K, as if
it is his "incarnation"
(gesturing the quotation marks)
in that absurd novel...I think it's
called The Trial...Right, Brod?

Brod nods reluctantly.

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FRIEDRICH (CONT'D)
Whatever...The world we are living
seems fine for me. Yes we had a world
war, but we'll always have science,
and laws. They get better, our world
gets better, that I am certain.

The conversation is interrupted by the BOOING and LAUGHING of

the crowd. Brod and his friends see a MAN and a WAITRESS
lying under the bar counter. The two kiss and caress.

FRIEDRICH
(amused)
Oh my god, this is just absurd! With
no regard for public decency...

Friedrich gets up and joins the excited crowd, while Willem

leans forward to see more clearly. Brod shows no interest.

Willem soon sits back and turns to Brod, but with his eyes
intermittently glancing towards the bar counter.

WILLEM
Well, Max, I don't think we can help
you much with your dilemma.
Apparently, you know better about
Franz and his works than we do. I
mean...you are the one who also
writes, while he's a lawyer...
(pointing at Friedrich)
...I'm an engineer...And yet...
(signing)
...with all due respect, you are not
him...nor can you even ask him
anymore...

Upon hearing these words, Brod is immersed in his

contemplation.

WILLEM (CONT’D)
(attracted by the scene)
Oh Christ...these two are really into
it...

INT. BROD'S APARTMENT - NIGHT

The letter is thrown into the fireplace, soon burned down.

Brod stares at the fireplace, redirects his eyes to his

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shelf, where several MANUSCRIPTS are stacked.

Brod takes down the manuscripts with the signature "Kafka" on

top, walks to the fireplace. He stops. There is only the
sound of the burning fire.

WILLEM (V.O.)
...you are not him, nor can you even
ask him anymore...

Brod goes back to his desk with the manuscripts. He lays out,
one by one, all of the manuscripts, each with a title on it.
The Castle, The Trial, The Metamorphosis, America...

Brod stares at The Trial for a while.

FRIEDRICH (V.O.)
He even names his protagonist K, as if
this K is his "incarnation" in that
absurd novel...

Brod picks up The Trial, sits down, and starts to read it.

BEGIN DREAM SEQUENCE:

INT. BROD'S APARTMENT - NIGHT

Several seconds later, the LAMP goes off. Brod checks it but
can’t fix it.

Brod then lights a CANDLE.

Instantly, there is a KNOCK at the door.

WILLEM (V.O.)
Sir, please open the door.

BROD
Who is it?

FRIEDRICH (V.O.)
We are from the court.

BROD
What is the matter?

Brod goes to the door, looks through the peek hole.

He sees WILLEM and FRIEDRICH, but this time dressed like

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court officials, for they wear identical uniforms--black

suits and black hats. Their figures are distorted through the
peek hole.

BROD
Willem? Friedrich? Please, not
now...and why do you dress--?

FRIEDRICH (V.O.)
--Please stop cottoning up with us.
We've never met under the law. Here's
our license and warrant.

Willem puts his license and the warrant in front of the peek
hole.

BROD
Wait...you mean you don’t know me? And
how--

WILLEM (V.O.)
--You are arrested.

BROD
What? Why?

FRIEDRICH (V.O.)
Because you are guilty.

BROD
Why am I guilty?

WILLEM (V.O.)
Because the court said so.

BROD
Who in the court?

FRIEDRICH (V.O.)
I'm sorry, sir, this is also beyond
our own knowledge... But I believe the
court will clarify everything once you
have presented yourself. Now, please
open the door.

Brod slowly turns back, looks at the manuscripts, and

realizes something with his eyes wide open.

Brod runs back to the desk, puts all the manuscripts into a
bag, grabs the bag, carefully climbs out of the WINDOW.

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EXT. BROD'S APARTMENT - DAY

It’s dawn time. On the side wall of this apartment building

of four floors, Brod holds onto the vertical pipeline
attached to the wall.

Brod looks down — it’s four floors high. He takes a deep

breath, re-adjusts the position of the bag on his back, and
starts to climb down along the pipeline.

When Brod is still three floors above ground, one of the

manuscripts, The Trial, slowly slips out of his bag. Brod
notices it, and catches it with his right hand.

However, now bearing his entire weight, his left hand starts
to slip away from the pipeline. Brod looks down at the ground
in terror.

He falls down.

Brod lands at the small brick alleyway on the side of the

building connected to the street, and WITHOUT A SCRATCH.

BROD
(thinking aloud in disbelief)
O...Ok...?

Before entering the street, Brod, hiding behind the building,

quietly peeks at the front door to the street — no signs of
Willem and Friedrich.

The moment he turns back and starts to run to the other way,
Brod almost runs into Willem and Friedrich.

WILLEM
Thank you for your cooperation. Hope
it‘ll go well for you!

Willem and Friedrich tip their hats and start to leave.

BROD
Wait, so am I arrested or not?

Willem and Friedrich stop and turn around.

FRIEDRICH
Frankly, sir, I don’t think we have
met anyone more compliant.

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BROD
Then what am I supposed to do now?

WILLEM
Apparently, you‘ve already shown that
you know much more than we do, Mr.
Brod.

BROD
Wait, I’m still Brod?

WILLEM
I guess this is still not enough to
undermine my previous statement?

BROD
So I'm not K...?

FRIEDRICH
It must have been a unique experience,
a virtue even, to know more about
others than yourself, wouldn‘t you
agree? Yes, Mr. K is indeed our
next...client, if you may.

Brod stands still for a moment immersed in his thought.

Suddenly he checks his bag--it's filled with the manuscripts.

Then he turns to look for Willem and Friedrich on the street-
-they are still in his sight. Brod paces to follow them.

EXT. K’S APARTMENT BUILDING- DAY

Brod follows Willem and Friedrich to another small alleyway.

He takes cover behind a thin STREET LAMP.

Willem and Friedrich stop at one of the front doors. Soon

they are let in.

Brod waits until the door is shut and then puts his ear
against the door.

He can hear them talking with K vaguely in the building:

FRIEDRICH (V.O.)
...our department is attracted by
guilt and has to send us guards out.
That is the law. Where could there be
an error?

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K (V.O.)
That is not a law that I am acquainted
with.

FRIEDRICH (V.O.)
Look, Willem, he admits he doesn’t
know the law and at the same time
claims he’s innocent.

WILLEM (V.O.)
You’re quite right, but you can’t get
him to see anything.

BROD
(thinking aloud with his ear
against the door)
These are the exact lines in the
novel...

Brod hears something upstairs across the alleyway.

He looks up -- it's Franz Kafka’s Parents, but this time

dressed in sleepwear. Standing on the balcony, they are
looking curiously at the other side, presumably where K’s
apartment is located.

Kafka’s Mother notices Brod, drags her Husband away from the
balcony and draws the curtain.

Brod puts his head against the door again.

WILLEM (CONT'D)(V.O.)
I presume you'll want to go to the
bank now?

K (V.O.)
To the bank? I thought I'd been
arrested?...

As footsteps become nearer and louder, Brod runs back behind

the street lamp.

Several seconds later, Willem and Friedrich push the door

wide open, come out of the building, and go their own ways.

The door is gradually closing. Brod runs to it.

As Brod reaches the door only to witness it shut entirely,

the door fails to lock itself--the cylinder is stuck.

Brod stares at the lock for a moment in amazement, opens the

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door, and enters the building.

INT. K'S APARTMENT - DAY

Brod wanders around the staircase, locates the door to K's

room, knocks at the door. A voice comes from the other side
of the door:

K (V.O.)
You just said that I could retain my
liberty.

BROD
No, I am not from the court.

K (V.O.)
Then who are you?

BROD
I'm Ma...ehh...Odradek...? Yeah,
Odradek.

K (V.O.)
Who?

BROD
I... I ask for your help...And I guess
I can also help you, because I believe
we are in the same situation right
now. This is a very peculiar court as
you can see...

A moment of silence, then the door is opened.

Joseph K, around 35 and very slim, appears in sleepwear and

very confused.

BROD (CONT'D)
Mr.K, I would love to introduce myself
in a more proper manner and occasion
so as to possibly become an
acquaintance of yours, because, trust
me, it would be an honor, but we
really don't have much time.

Brod takes out the bag, reaches for the manuscripts.

FADE TO:

K stares at the manuscripts, while Brod, drinking from a

teacup, stares at K.

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K
I mean... if you value them, just keep
them then? Why bother asking me? And
since the author had told you what to
do--

BROD
--No...he...
(almost mumbling)
...he wasn't himself at the time...
(puts down the teacup and faces K
resolutely)
That's why I come to you--in a way
they are also yours! You're K! You're
born to be his incarnation!

K
Well, then I'll say keep them, so that
you wouldn't get upset--

Brod gets desperate and hits the desk.

BROD
--No! You don't understand! It doesn't
matter whether I get upset. It has to
be YOUR own decision--

K
(slightly annoyed)
--Why are you so certain that I can
represent him in the first place... I
don't even write! I work for the bank!
Why don't you ask a writer instead?

BROD
(desperately)
Franz, please!

K
I'm Joseph...Look! We don't even have
the same name!

BROD
...It...it doesn't matter! Don't you
want me to help you with your trial or
not? You will DIE at the end, do you
know that?

A moment of silence.

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K
(frozen)
...Ok. I guess I'll try...but I...I
need more time, and would you please
leave me alone for now,
Mr...Odradek...?

EXT. BROD'S APARTMENT - DAY

At the front door to his apartment building, Brod finds

Willem and Friedrich already waiting.

BROD
What...? We just--

WILLEM
--Mr.Brod, we are happy to inform you
that the court has released you.

BROD
(surprised)
Oh...then...great! Did the court
mention why?

FRIEDRICH
The court has claimed what it had been
seeking. This is all we know, although
it's probably the only reason why
anyone is released--

Before letting Friedrich finish his sentence, Brod suddenly

realizes something and runs to the streets.

EXT. STREETS OF PRAGUE - DAY

Running on the street, Brod runs into K, who is carrying a

BAG.

K
What...what a coincidence, Mr.Odradek!

BROD
(In a strong tone)
Where are you going?

K
I just came back from the court.

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BROD
This quick? I think we just parted
minutes ago.

K
You must be joking, Mr.Odradek. Look,
it is already sunset.

K points at the sun, which is half-covered by the CATHEDRAL

at the mountain top.

Brod leans forward to check K's bag. K tries to cover it, but
Brod eventually sees the inside--the bag is empty.

K (CONT'D)
(hastily)
Oh, in case you're wondering about the
manuscripts, I...I just handed them to
the court, where people make judgement
professionally, not to mention
that...that this could also help with
my case--

Brod strides towards K and grabs K's collar.

BROD K
You were right... you are It is still a decision,
not him! isn't it?

Brod releases K and starts running.

INT. THE COURT OFFICE HALL - NIGHT

Brod arrives at a building among many in Prague that are

almost identical--white wall and red brick roof.

He runs into the entrance hall. A RABBI--identical to the one

at the funeral--comes to block him.

BROD
I am guilty!

The Rabbi backs off.

Brod runs to the staircase, checks the sign on the wall:

There is an ARROW SIGN in parallel with the lower stairs to
the basement but directing upwards. On that lower sign writes
with chalk, in capital letter, "THE LAW".

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Brod looks up: no signs about the upper staircase.

Brod hesitates, and runs up the upper staircase.

At the door to the second floor, Brod vaguely hears people

screaming and laughing. He opens the door.

INT. THE ROUND ROOM - NIGHT

Brod enters a round room decorated like a theatre. There are

two men, both HALF NAKED, pacing in circle with their heads
down, which makes them difficult to recognize. The shorter
one holds a WHIP thrashing the taller one, and each SCREAMS
and LAUGHS.

The thrashed one notices Brod, turns towards him. Only then
has Brod recognized him. It is WILLEM, and the other is
FRIEDRICH.

FRIEDRICH
Greetings, Mr.Brod! You fancy joining
us?
(got whipped)
Ahh!

Brod backs off through the door, and shuts the door.

INT. THE BASEMENT AKA. THE COURT OFFICE - NIGHT

Brod runs down the staircase all the way to the basement.

Brod opens the door to the basement. He finds himself at the

start of a long HALLWAY.

In the hallway, there are more ARROW SIGNS--just like the one
on the first floor--on the walls and the floor all directing
towards Brod, that is, the opposite way to that which he is
going.

Brod hesitates, looks back at the door that he just went

through, and starts walking along the hallway.

As Brod is walking, there are STAFFS coming in and out of

those numerous offices connected to the hallway, all looking
down and holding some files.

Most of the staffs are dressed in BLACK and walking following

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the arrow, while a few others dressed in WHITE join Brod, who
is walking towards the other end. All is silent except the
intense FOOTSTEPS.

Brod arrives at the other end only to see a BRICK WALL. The
one ARROW SIGN on that wall directs upwards. Brod looks up:
there is nothing on the ceiling.

Brod crouches down to check the floor: He finds an OPENING to

further down. He opens it. There is a LADDER attached to it.

INT. THE SHELF OF LAW: THE OBSERVATION DECK - NIGHT

Brod climbs down the ladder, and lands on a big red topless
PLATFORM that is situated in a massive grotto-like
underground space.

This semicircle platform stretches from one side of the

grotto's rock surface towards the center--it is an
observation deck, at the edge of which one expects to see
spectacles laid out below.

On the right side of the platform, there is a staircase

leading to further down.

The entire place is dimly lit by countless number of candles

attached on the rock surface.

Far from the edge of the platform, Brod cannot yet see what's
down below. On the platform, there is only him and a DUSTMAN
dressed in a neat brown suit, who is sweeping the floor with
his head down and his back towards Brod.

DUSTMAN
We are closing for today.

BROD
Excuse me, would you mind telling me
where we are?

The Dustman suddenly stops his task at hand, and leans on his
BROOM.

DUSTMAN
In fact, you are just on time...

The Dustman raises his head, and turns around.

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DUSTMAN (CONT'D)
Max.

BROD
How do you know my n--

Brod checks the Dustman's face, only to see the very face of
his dead friend, Franz Kafka.

BROD (CONT'D)
--Franz...? How...?

DUSTMAN
Welcome...to The Shelf of Law.

Brod follows the Dustman to the edge of the platform.

Below is a huge toppled-cone-shaped hollow structure

constructed based on the round cone shape of the lower half
part of the grotto. The structure's entire circular inner
surface is covered with WOODEN GRIDDINGS--it is a SHELF.

In each grid places a BOOK, and the numbers of both

horizontal LEVELS and vertical COLUMNS are too large to tell.
As it gets further down, the Shelf's diameter decreases, and
each level of grids contains less books.

All the way to the bottom, Brod can vaguely see that there is
only ONE book placed in that ONLY grid in the center.

Each level rotates randomly and intermittently with

formidable NOISE except that bottom level, where that single
grid holds still.

Leaning forward against the handrail, Brod is drawn into a

trance state by what he sees--his eyes have almost lost
focus.

BROD
Why do you call it the Shelf of Law?

DUSTMAN
Because we make laws out of it.

BROD
How does it work, then?

DUSTMAN
It works...with certain mechanisms.
Allow me to show you.

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The Dustman walks Brod down the stairs to the inside of the
Shelf.

INT. THE SHELF OF LAW: INSIDE THE SHELF - NIGHT

Brod and the Dustman arrive at a long spiral staircase

attached to the Shelf's inner wooden surface, from which one
can look closely at the books in the griddings.

There are some STAFFS walking on the staircase. Most dress in

black, each holding some papers or some books, and very few
in white, each holding a book. They walk silently with their
heads down.

The Dustman talks as he and Brod walk down the spiral

staircase.

DUSTMAN (CONT'D)
The books are chosen based on the
amount of wisdom they possess, and
they are placed in chronological
sequence from bottom to top. As you
see, each level rotates, and no one
knows when and which level would stop.
But sometimes, with enough patience,
you will find them all come to a halt
- Subsisto - that's how the old people
call it. Then in each column you get a
unique combination of books, and from
each combination derives a law that
would be carried out, here I mean
literally, to govern the world with
the others.

A STAFF dressed in black walks past them, the Dustman turns

to look at him.

DUSTMAN (CONT'D)
(smiling)
They have their own way out.

BROD
Those old laws, would they be replaced
or overwritten?

DUSTMAN
No, why would they? Laws are like
wealth - the more, the better!

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BROD
But don't different laws have
different qualities? How come you just
add them up like money?... No, I don't
see it work... How do you know you can
derive laws from any combinations? I
guess some books are just too
different? And who on earth has such
art? What if there were repetitions?

DUSTMAN
(satisfied)
Hmm...all these doubts...they torment
you, don't they? But to be very honest
with you, Max, I myself have no idea,
since I am not responsible for such
art. I just let the staffs do their
job, and up until now no one has
reported any difficulties, which does
surprise me when thinking about it, so
trust me, I can sympathize with you on
that one. In fact they seem to be too
devoted to such task that sometimes
they dare to take liberties with it.
From time to time I would find old
books placed along with the new ones
in some upper levels and vice versa,
and yet new laws come out as usual.

As the Dustman continues with his introduction, Brod follows

him walk down around the shelf and glances at the books.

He sees in one grid "De origine et situ Germanorum" by

Tacitus and just below it a "December 1920 edition" local
porno comic magazine. The Dustman notices it and joins him.

DUSTMAN (CONT'D)
Take these two books for example--It
would well be that they still see them
as a perfect match!

The two keep walking down the Shelf.

DUSTMAN (CONT'D)
When I ask my staffs concerning such
arrogation, or talent, if you want,
every time I get nothing out of their
mouths, and neither can I fix the
problem, since I know nothing about
the specific order of the books. My
solution is to thrash one of the

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staffs - randomly picked, of course -

but it seems that they've grown used
to it, and some even enjoy it. As you
can see, this issue has almost gone
out of control and has caused
considerable disorder in the Shelf
over time. However, it does provide a
satisfying answer to your question of
repetitions, I assume? And maybe
disorder is just one particular
species of order after all.
(pointing at a staff dressed in
white)
Oh, and we also have new books coming
in every once in a while.

Brod and the Dustman arrive at almost the bottom of the

Shelf, where the spiral staircase falls short. Brod looks
down, and sees all of Franz's manuscripts--easy to identify
without any covers--placed among the levels at the bottom of
the entire Shelf. The Trial occupies the one single fixed
grid in the very center.

BROD
(staring downwards at the books)
I guess these books of yours have just
arrived?

DUSTMAN
Yes, and no, if you were to consider
them the foundation of this world. No
one shall or has ever touched them,
not even any one of my staffs.

BROD
But you did write most of them rather
recently--

DUSTMAN
--History shall collapse if it were to
follow the work of time any more
loyally than how one's action follows
his intention. And that's why here, as
you have probably noticed, time is out
of joint. History serves man, not the
other way around.

BROD
So, skew all the other books, but
enthrone those of your own. Isn't that
self-contradictory?

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DUSTMAN
Not at all, but rather necessary.

Brod stops walking, contemplates for a moment.

BROD
I need to take those manuscripts.

DUSTMAN
To whom? Their master is standing in
front of you.

BROD
To...to reality.

DUSTMAN
So that their fate could be judged by
values even more surreal? Then why not
let them function in THIS world, where
there is at least a firm ground?

Brod stares at The Trial in silence.

DUSTMAN (CONT'D)
And who can be a better judge of those
books than the author himself?

BROD
I guess your argument might well be
impeccable. But it somehow makes me
want to act the opposite ever so
desperately.

DUSTMAN
...Wait, so you do know I am right!

BROD
Yes, but I detest it! I DETEST IT! And
with all due respect...I could not
explain why!

Brod jumps down from the end of the staircase. He lands on

the bottom of the Shelf, and, when also trying to keep
balance, starts to take out Franz's manuscripts in those
grids.

Without the books, the emptied grids soon collapse and,

because of the incessant rotation, are replaced by the
adjacent ones pressed to them, either horizontally or
vertically.

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The whole Shelf trembles as the rotation of the levels is

disrupted. The whole scene is like the play of tetris.

DUSTMAN
As the master of my works, I order you
to stop!

BROD
I'm sorry, Franz, or whoever you are,
but it seems that I couldn't help it!

The Dustman jumps down, chases Brod and hits him with his
broom, but Brod tries to defend himself and manages to keep
on with his task. The two act rather clumsily, as if they
were playing a pantomime.

Holding all the other manuscripts, and dodging and enduring

the beating of the Dustman, Brod runs down to the very bottom
and picks up The Trial in the center.

As soon as he does that, that one central grid collapses and

eventually falls off, leaving a hole which seems to lead to
some dark abyss.

The collapse of the Shelf gets more drastic. The books are
falling off.

The Dustman is tripped by the collapsing grids and falls

over.

Brod holds The Trial, stares at it, and opens it.

He sees, from every page he turns to, words changing

constantly. From one of the pages, he is able to catch what
is just being written overwriting the previous words:

"He sees, from every page he turns to, words changing

constantly."

BROD
It writes itself...It writes itself!

As Brod says these words, new words appear on the book:

"It writes itself. It writes itself!" He is almost screaming.

Brod turns to the Dustman.

BROD (CONT'D)
It does not belong to you.

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DUSTMAN
Max, it really hurts being questioned
about one's own identity, not to
mention by his best friend.

BROD
No, I don't even bother questioning
your identity. You can surely be the
real, the other real, or the
essentially real Franz Kafka, but this
is irrelevant to what or whom those
books belong to, for they belong to
NOTHING, and NO ONE. They are their
own masters, who will their will and
act their act. They might well thank
you, but they would never yield to
you. They are not objects. They are
events that are always happening and
renewing themselves...

Upon saying those words, Brod shows the opened book to the
Dustman.

The Dustman stares at the book for a moment, then redirects

his eyes at the collapsing Shelf.

DUSTMAN
Bravo, then! Now you see what the
foundation of your reality has always
looked like. A constant collapse, ever
so daunting and unrecoverable. Go now!
Drift, like a sail in the wind!

Brod looks at the Dustman affectionately.

BROD
(almost whispering)
I'll see you again, Franz.

Holding all the manuscripts, Brod climbs down the hole at the
bottom.

INT. DARK SPACE - NIGHT

Brod climbs down to a dark narrow space with no light except

from above. He can still see the collapse of the Shelf
through the hole.

Suddenly this dark space topples over--gravity along with it-

-

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and Brod can no longer see the view of the Shelf. It gets
even darker. The noise of the collapse is also gone.

Brod climbs back up through the hole.

INT. CONFESSIONARY IN THE CATHEDRAL - DAY

Brod finds himself arrive at a very narrow CONFESSIONARY with

a CURTAIN separating him and the other side, where one should
find the priest.

Brod hears the howling of Ju 87 “Stuka" Bombers in the sky,

later a wave of EXPLOSIONS nearby. The heat and light of the
explosions go through the Venetian blind on the wooden walls
of the Confessionary.

Brod covers himself.

After the explosion, there is silence.

FADE IN：BACKGROUND MUSIC: Saint Matthew Passion, Chorus I

Brod manages to look out through a crack on the wooden wall.

He finds out that the entire CATHEDRAL has been bombarded to
ruins, and that he can directly see the surrounding CITY,
whose fate is no different.

FADE OUT: BACKGROUND MUSIC

Brod turns to the curtain that blocks him from the other half
of the Confessionary.

He draws it open, and sees a MIRROR covering the entire

opposite wall, in which he sees himself, but with the face of
Franz Kafka.

BLACK SCREEN

INT. BROD'S APARTMENT - DAY

It's DAWN. Brod opens his eyes, lifts his head from the
manuscript of The Trial, and checks the hand-writings on it:

"Someone must have been telling tales about Joseph K, for one
morning..."

Brod checks the LAMP--it is on.

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He then takes a deep breath in relief.

Brod closes The Trial, puts it back among the other

manuscripts laid out on the desk. He contemplates upon them
for some time, gathers them into a bag, then walks out of the
room.

The CANDLE, already melted into wax, is still giving out some
smoke as if it were its last sigh.

THE END