# Chi Fechil Episode 3 - Sabaa Bharat (Seven Spices)

> Source note: translated from `/home/mnm/.copilot/session-state/9fa367fb-8447-49a6-9766-6975816f2f00/files/chi-fechil-extracts/chi-fechil-episode-3-sabaa-bharat.txt`, cross-checked against `special-projects/chi-fechil/source/chi-fechil-episode-3-sabaa-bharat.pdf`. Obvious OCR noise and page-break artifacts were cleaned where possible. A few short lines remain approximate where the source text is visibly damaged.

## 1. INT. HOST STUDIO - NIGHT

A dark, cinematic studio.

One soft key light. In the background, a slow loop of glitching frames from the failed sketch: pixelated faces, frozen smiles.

**HOST (EGYPTIAN)**  
Remember the last video?  
We don't need to remember it...  
The result is carved into the internet...  
and nobody saw it.

He clicks a remote.

A graph appears: a flat line.

**HOST (CONT'D)**  
This line isn't a heartbeat...  
It's the graph of their success.

Beat.

**HOST (CONT'D)**  
At that moment...  
the guys convinced themselves the problem wasn't them.  
It had to be the "flavor."

He smirks.

**HOST (CONT'D)**  
Comedy needs spice.  
So they said: let's add some...  
Egyptian spice...  
Gulf spice.

He steps closer.

**HOST (CONT'D)**  
A smart plan?  
Or one last attempt before drowning?

Because...  
and apologies to the rest of the region...  
Egyptians are masters of laughter,  
and the Gulf comes with a ready-made trend.

Beat.

**HOST (CONT'D)**  
The only truth we know...  
is that the three of them  
are still missing.

Behind him: blurred images of Mo, Jad, and Amer (Temsah).

**HOST (CONT'D)**  
And we're still following their trail.

CUT TO BLACK.

## INTERVIEW MONTAGE - "THEY'RE STILL MISSING"

### 1) Fairuz interview - missing person energy

## 2. INT. EMPTY LIVING ROOM - DAY

Fairuz holds a photo of Mo like a missing-person poster.

**FAIRUZ**  
The last time I saw Mo...  
he was opening a video call on a mountain road.  
After that...  
nothing.

She wipes a tear, then abruptly becomes awkwardly normal again.

**FAIRUZ (CONT'D)**  
He was supposed to take me with him on his last adventure...  
but he told me the experience was too hard for any girl to handle.

### 2) Egyptian actor interview - interrogation vibe

## 3. INT. DARK ROOM - SINGLE LAMP

An Egyptian guy sweats under the light.

**INTERVIEWER (O.S.)**  
Did you see the guys?

**EGYPTIAN GUY**  
I swear to God, I don't know them.  
I never saw them.  
I don't even know where Lebanon is on the map.

The light moves closer.

**INTERVIEWER (O.S.)**  
Then why are you here?

**EGYPTIAN GUY**  
I...  
I came to work on a tobacco ad.

Silence.

**EGYPTIAN GUY (CONT'D)**  
So... can I go now?

**INTERVIEWER (O.S.)**  
Go where? We're in your apartment.

The light stays on. The mood shifts.

### 3) Jad's mom - the weird room

## 4. INT. JAD'S CHILDHOOD ROOM - NIGHT

Jad's mother holds a baby photo album.

**JAD'S MOM**  
He was a quiet boy...  
but he had strange tendencies.

She opens the room door.

Inside:

- Hundreds of identical notebooks labeled **PLAN B**
- A shrine of failed props
- A mannequin dressed in Jad's clothes
- An audio recorder playing a garbled clip of Jad's voice

She smiles proudly.

**JAD'S MOM (CONT'D)**  
He always loved making up strange stories.

Cut to uncomfortable silence.

## TITLE SEQUENCE

**Seven Spices**

## 5. ARCHIVE CUT - ZIAD INTERVIEW ABOUT "7 BHARAT"

Old grainy footage.

**ZIAD (ARCHIVE)**  
The secret isn't the ingredient.  
The secret is the spices.  
Seven spices can change the taste...  
but if you add too much,  
you ruin the whole dish.

Cut.

Another archive clip: an Egyptian talk-show guy yelling.

**EGYPTIAN CLIP**  
Laughter isn't an accent!  
Laughter is spirit!

SMASH CUT.

## MEETING THE SOCIAL MEDIA "SURGEON"

## 6. INT. CHEAP OFFICE - DAY

A Social Media Guy studies their sketch on a laptop like MRI scans. Cramped office. Posters of viral videos. He plays their sketch, pauses on a dead joke.

**SOCIAL MEDIA GUY**  
The video is dead.

He freezes the frame on Jad's face.

**SOCIAL MEDIA GUY (CONT'D)**  
Pulse: zero.  
The soul is missing.  
And the content...  
needs a miracle.

He points at another moment.

**SOCIAL MEDIA GUY**  
Look...  
The joke here...  
was supposed to give birth to laughter...  
but it gave birth to silence.

He plays another beat.

**SOCIAL MEDIA GUY (CONT'D)**  
And here...  
you could lay funeral music under it.

**MO**  
So what's the solution?

The guy turns the laptop toward them.

**SOCIAL MEDIA GUY**  
Seven spices are what give something flavor.  
You need audience expansion.  
You need an Egyptian element...  
You need a Gulf element.  
A ready-made trend.  
A ready-made audience.  
And ready-made outrage if you fail.

**JAD**  
Spices? What do you mean, spices?

**TEMSAH**  
Like makeup for women  
and beards for men...

**SOCIAL MEDIA GUY**  
Bravo, Temsah.  
Exactly.

**MO**  
So this is the magic formula?

**SOCIAL MEDIA GUY**  
We'll do what we can.  
The rest is up to God.

They exchange looks.

## 7. INT. STUDIO - DAY

A printed A4 paper is taped to the door:

**Casting - Egyptian & Khaliji Actor**

They sit and wait.

Fairuz scrolls.  
Mo paces.  
Temsah adjusts lights for no reason.  
Jad rehearses lines to empty chairs.  
A clock ticks. Time passes. No one shows up.

**MO**  
If it were going to rain, the sky would've clouded over by now.

**JAD**  
You definitely boosted the casting post, right?

**FAIRUZ**  
Of course. Maybe they're at work. Or maybe they're scared of Hamra traffic.

The door opens.

**MO**  
At last.

They all brighten.

An old man peeks in.

**OLD MAN**  
Is the bathroom in here?

**MO**  
End of the hallway.

The old man leaves. The door closes.

Long silence.

**TEMSAH**  
I'm dying for a shisha. Should we go? I'm bored out of my mind.

## ZOOM CALL - SAUDI FRIEND + COST ANIMATION

## 8. INT. CAFE - DAY

Jad is on Zoom with a Saudi actor friend.

Temsah smokes loudly beside him. Jad keeps signaling for him to stop.

**JAD**  
Have mercy, man. Seriously, that's shameful.

**SAUDI ACTOR**  
My dear Jad, for you I'd come, of course...  
but the ticket...  
the lodging...  
and pocket money...

Animated numbers pop around them.

**TEMSAH**  
I told you. Hang up. Hang up. Hang up the call.

**JAD**  
It was just a feeler. Okay, habibi, let me check with producer-mama and I'll call you right back.

He ends the call.

They sit, defeated.

**MO**  
So that was nothing.  
Great. We need Egyptian spice and Gulf spice, and we came away with nothing.

Nearby, a shisha guy jokes with customers.

**CUSTOMER (CAST)**  
So are you Al Ahly or Zamalek? Or are you some kind of Zamahlkawy?

**EGYPTIAN GUY**  
Same question. Same stale joke. Same Adel Imam one-liners. And I'm supposed to put up with it.  
Please, I don't care about football or movies.

**CUSTOMER (CAST)**  
You're hilarious, I swear. Okay then, what about Mo Salah?

**EGYPTIAN GUY**  
Don't know him.

**MO (whispering)**  
Is he Egyptian?

**FAIRUZ**  
An angry Egyptian.

They approach him.

**MO**  
Want to act?

**SHISHA GUY**  
Who are you people, and act in what? Easy, easy.

**FAIRUZ**  
You could get famous with us and be done with these awful customers.

Beat.

**SHISHA GUY**  
I was joking. I love my job.

**JAD**  
One hour after work. We'll treat you to kebab and kofta, shoot it, and you go home.

**SHISHA GUY**  
Please, no kebab, no terrorism.  
Fine, sir. I agree.

**TEMSAH**  
Then put your hand in mine. Good fortune is coming for you.

**SHISHA GUY**  
Film people again...

## 9. INT. STUDIO - DAY

Handshake.

A low-budget content studio trying very hard to look professional.

Half-built set pieces from older failed sketches. A broken ring light flickers like it's about to confess something. Two cheap softboxes are held together with gaffer tape.

The camera is already rolling, found-footage style.

Temsah moves through the space with obsessive confidence, filming everything in long, unbroken handheld takes like a documentary director convinced this project will one day be studied in film school.

Jad sits on a plastic chair in full existential collapse, staring at nothing.

Mo paces like a producer who just lost funding.

Fairuz stands apart, scrolling through her phone, calm, thinking.

Temsah suddenly swings the camera onto himself.

**TEMSAH (to camera, proud)**  
I'm a master of the one-shot.

He whip-pans to Jad.

**JAD**  
I need a very big tree to hug.

Mo throws his hands up.

**MO**  
We found the Egyptian, but the Gulf part is still only half solved.  
What, no one here can learn it?  
A Lebanese-Gulf hybrid or something?

Fairuz slowly looks up. She has something.

**FAIRUZ**  
Relax.  
Once, I was at a casting call for a commercial.  
There was a Gulf guy there.

Mo freezes.

**MO**  
A real Gulf guy?  
Not one of those fake "marhaba keefak habibi" types?

**FAIRUZ**  
No. His accent was real.  
I think he lives in Tripoli.

Mo steps closer. Too close.

**MO**  
You think?  
Or you know?

Fairuz looks at him. Sharp, calm.

**FAIRUZ**  
I'll call the agency. We'll know right now.

**JAD**  
Come on, what are we waiting for?

Temsah pushes in for an extreme close-up on Mo's jealous face.

CUT HARD.

## 10. INT. VAN / BUS TO TRIPOLI - DAY

Shot from the very back of the vehicle.

The image shudders with the road. Harsh daylight burns through dusty windows.

We see them all in one frame, documentary style.

Jad sits in the front, wearing sunglasses like a failed celebrity hiding from recognition.

Mo and Fairuz sit in the middle row.

Temsah stands dangerously in the aisle, filming as if this were a war zone.

Car horns. Engine noise. A loud Lebanese song from the driver's radio.

**MO (low, passive-aggressive)**  
Strange... how do you remember where he lives?

**FAIRUZ (without looking at him)**  
Mo...

**MO**  
Is there something between you and him?

Beat.

She turns. Smiles sweetly, lethally.

**FAIRUZ (CONT'D)**  
Why? Is there something between you and me?

Temsah zooms dramatically on Mo.

From the front:

**JAD**  
Can someone explain why we're the ones going to Tripoli?  
Shouldn't he be the one coming to us?

**TEMSAH**  
Just kidding... we're doing it for Tripoli kaak.  
He said it was for security reasons.

Mo mutters:

**MO**  
Sure. You probably memorized his address too.

Fairuz looks straight into Temsah's lens, breaking the fourth wall with a tiny smirk.

Cut.

## 11. EXT. TRIPOLI - PUBLIC GARDEN - DAY

Golden late-afternoon light.

Old iron benches. Kids playing football in the background. The sea in the distance, mixed with traffic and street vendors shouting.

A small kaak stand.

They sit on a bench eating sesame kaak as if this were a stakeout in a crime movie, except completely useless.

Temsah circles them in one slow, continuous move.

Mo is nervous. This is the moment. He turns to Fairuz.

**MO**  
Fairuz... I've started...

A massive fart erupts from the fat man sitting beside them.

Silence.

Jad slowly turns.

**JAD**  
Dolby sound.

Mo tries again, emotional.

**MO**  
I was saying... I started...

Another fart, longer, sadder, more tragic.

Fairuz bites into her kaak to stop herself from laughing.

**FAIRUZ**  
Go on, hurry up and say it while he's still performing.

Temsah zooms into Mo's demolished soul.

The fat man looks at them casually.

**FAT GUY**  
You waiting for someone?

**JAD**  
We're waiting for the percussion solo.

Beat.

A breeze passes.

Then -

A shadow falls over them.

### THE KHALIJI ENTRANCE

Cinematic slow motion.

A well-dressed Gulf man. Clean. Confident. Sunglasses. Perfect grooming.

He belongs to an entirely different production value.

Temsah lowers the camera a little, even he is impressed.

**KHALIJI**  
Peace be upon you.

All three jump to their feet.

**MO (too excited)**  
And peace be upon you too, I swear!

Jad instantly turns into a serious producer.

**JAD**  
We're a comedy team...  
We have a sketch that might be right up your alley.

Temsah circles him like he's filming a celebrity interview.

**TEMSAH**  
And I have a historic one-shot waiting for you.

Fairuz steps in, controlled and professional.

**FAIRUZ**  
The role is small...  
but effective.

The Khaliji studies them. Measures the chaos.

**KHALIJI**  
Do you need a specific Gulf accent?

**JAD**  
No, no. The important thing is just... Gulf.

Beat.

He laughs.

**KHALIJI**  
Agreed.

Relief explodes.

Mo leans toward Fairuz and whispers:

**MO**  
He really is Gulf.

**FAIRUZ**  
What on earth are we doing?

Temsah pushes in on Mo's face: jealousy, confusion, hope.

Freeze-frame feeling.

SMASH CUT.

## 12. INT. AMERICAN LANGUAGE CENTER - DAY - BEHIND THE SCENES

A sad attempt at an "American" learning environment.

A plastic U.S. flag is taped crookedly to the wall.

A whiteboard still reads **WELCOME STUDENTS** in three different handwriting styles.

Fluorescent lights flicker like an interrogation room.

Temsah prowls through the space in a long handheld take, breathing loudly like a wildlife cameraman.

We see:

- The Egyptian guy in costume, rehearsing with deadly seriousness.
- The Khaliji adjusting his ghutra in a classroom window like a movie star.
- Jad in full teacher costume, holding papers and trying to look authoritative, and failing.
- Fairuz sitting on a desk, bored, swinging her legs.
- The "dumb girl" from episode 2, shooting TikToks in the background with the class globe as a prop.

**TEMSAH - TO CAMERA (whispering like a war reporter)**  
I'm in the heart of the battle now...  
Everyone is ready...  
but nobody knows the script.

Whip-pan to Jad.

### JAD - PANICKING WITH PAPERS

**JAD**  
Guys...  
Who took the last page out of the script?

**EGYPTIAN ACTOR (offended)**  
What page? You told me I'd just play myself, like in the cafe.

**FAIRUZ**  
There is no last page.  
This is a sketch.

Jad freezes.

Existential crisis.

### MO - PRODUCER MODE (fake authority)

He holds a walkie-talkie that isn't even switched on.

**MO**  
Ready to shoot!  
I need energy!

The dumb girl raises her hand.

**DUMB GIRL**  
What's the Wi-Fi?

Mo stares at her.

**MO**  
You're not a student.  
You're a character.

### THE EGYPTIAN - OVERREHEARSING

He stands in front of a mirror, repeating:

**EGYPTIAN**  
Sour and mint. Extra mint.

He starts crying in the middle of rehearsal.

**EGYPTIAN (CONT'D)**  
Strong feeling.

Temsah zooms in emotionally.

### THE KHALIJI - CALM AND PROFESSIONAL

He fixes his sleeve.

**KHALIJI**  
Where's the camera? Where do you want me to stand?

Temsah suddenly appears two centimeters from his face.

**TEMSAH**  
There are no marks.  
I am the movement.

The Khaliji nods respectfully, as if he's dealing with a genius.

### FAIRUZ AND MO - SIDE TENSION

Fairuz adjusts the student desks, actually doing real work.

Mo approaches.

**MO (low)**  
Need anything?

**FAIRUZ**  
Yeah.  
Aren't you going to give me direction?

**MO**  
No... I'm upset with you.

**FAIRUZ**  
What are we, in kindergarten?  
No, seriously. What's your issue?

**MO**  
Let's finish, upload the video, and I want to tell you something.

**FAIRUZ**  
Say it now.

**MO**  
I...

Beat.

Temsah zooms between them like a tennis match.

### SOUND CHAOS

A real class next door starts chanting loudly:

**CLASS NEXT DOOR**  
One, two, three, repeat!

Jad loses it.

**JAD**  
We can't shoot like this!

Mo runs to the door and opens it.

Twenty real students stare at him.

He slowly closes it again.

### TEMSAH - STILL FILMING

Everyone suddenly snaps into position.

Silence.

Jad stands in the teacher's spot.

He breathes in.

He tries to become a real actor.

Temsah starts circling them.

Mo raises his hand like a Hollywood director.

**MO (serious for the first time)**  
Sound...

No one answers.

**MO (louder)**  
Sound?!

The Egyptian raises his phone.

**EGYPTIAN**  
Recording, sir.

Mo nods.

**MO**  
Camera...

Temsah is already filming.

**MO**  
Rolling. And... action.

No one moves.

They all look at Jad.

Jad forgets the first line.

Long, brutal silence.

*This... is before success.*

SMASH CUT.

## 13. INT. AMERICAN LANGUAGE CENTER - CLASSROOM - DAY

Jad stands at the front of the classroom, still in character.

**JAD**  
Class is over.  
Good work, everyone... you can go.

No one leaves.

The door is right there. The room stays still.

The Khaliji clears his throat politely.

**KHALIJI**  
Excuse me...

He tries to leave.

Same thing.

The Egyptian sees him come back and laughs.

**EGYPTIAN**  
What is this?  
Is the air outside too heavy or what?

He tries it himself.

He is pulled back in.

**EGYPTIAN (CONT'D)**  
Why did I come back?

Fairuz tests it calmly.

**FAIRUZ (trying calmly)**  
Maybe it's my turn.

She reaches the door.

She comes back too.

Fairuz turns.

**FAIRUZ (CONT'D)**  
Something is pulling us back.

**DUMB GIRL**  
Maybe the floor is slippery?

She looks down.

She steps forward with confidence, comes back, and recoils.

**DUMB GIRL (CONT'D)**  
I came back all by myself.

Jad takes over, trying to stay rational.

**JAD**  
Okay... one by one.

They try again, separately.  
Each time, the same thing.  
No one gets out.

**KHALIJI**  
I felt something tell me, "Go back."

**EGYPTIAN**  
What do you mean, "something"?  
Someone from management?

**JAD**  
There's nobody there.

**FAIRUZ**  
Maybe we're the ones who can't get out...  
not the door.

The dumb girl treats that like a normal inconvenience.

**DUMB GIRL**  
I always feel like this in elevators.

The Egyptian, still trying to stay in the bit:

**EGYPTIAN**  
Okay... can any of us at least finish the sentence in English?  
"I am unable to -"

**JAD**  
This is not a grammar issue.

**KHALIJI**  
My English is fine.  
My exiting is not.

**FAIRUZ**  
Try walking backward.

They try.  
Same result.

**DUMB GIRL**  
Maybe the classroom keeps pulling us back.

The tension rises.

**JAD**  
Let's count...  
One... two... three!

They all try together.

No one gets out.  
They all snap back in at once.

**EGYPTIAN**  
I'm not scared...  
I'm just surprised the place chose us.

**KHALIJI**  
I wasn't chosen.  
I was booked.

**FAIRUZ**  
Maybe we should stop trying.

**DUMB GIRL**  
Okay, if we stop trying...  
is there coffee?

**JAD**  
Fine. Five-minute break.  
Whoever wants to leave... can leave later.

A beat.

Then, from outside the room, smiling:

**EGYPTIAN (O.S.)**  
Ah...  
That was easy.

They all turn toward the doorway.

His voice hangs there, unsettling, from somewhere beyond them.

**EGYPTIAN (O.S.)**  
Not everyone who gets out  
knows why he got out.  
And not everyone who's inside  
knows why he got stuck.

A draft blows in.

**DUMB GIRL**  
Can someone close the door?  
There's a breeze.

CUT.

## 14. INT. EDITING ROOM - NIGHT

A suffocating post-production cave.

Two monitors glow in the dark.

The exported sketch is frozen on a perfect frame:

Jad as the teacher, confident, surrounded by his "international" class.

The upload window is open.

**Title:** `BHRAT KHALIJI W MASRIE`

The cursor blinks.

Waiting for history.

Temsah is filming, as usual.

Handheld.

His breathing sits in the audio.

Fairuz adjusts sound levels.

Jad replays a silent moment of himself teaching, proud.

Mo scrolls on his phone, exhausted and aimless.

Silence, except for the computer fan.

Then Mo stops scrolling.

His thumb moves back up slowly.

His eyes narrow.

He leans toward the phone.

**MO (very low)**  
Guys...

No one reacts.

**MO (CONT'D)**  
Guys... come here.

Something in his tone.

Not comic.

They gather.

Temsah zooms in slowly.

### INSERT - PHONE SCREEN

A viral reel.

Big caption: **[caption partially illegible in the source - clearly a scandalous viral post about the same man]**

The guy in the reel is sitting in a cafe.

Same face.

Same voice.

But without the accent.

He's laughing in Lebanese with his friends.

The comments are exploding.

### BACK TO SCENE

No one speaks.

We hear the audio from the phone: the same man, speaking naturally in Lebanese. The quoted line is too damaged in the source to recover exactly.

Jad's smile dies.

Fairuz's hand leaves the mouse.

Temsah pushes closer, documentary instinct taking over.

**JAD (whispers)**  
What...?

Mo doesn't answer.

He grabs the mouse.

Opens the project file.

Scrubs the timeline.

Stops on a close-up of the Khaliji in the sketch.

Full costume.

Authority.

Presence.

Mo enlarges the frame.

Then looks back at the phone.

Then back to the frame.

Then back to the phone.

The match is undeniable.

**TEMSAH (soft, to camera)**  
[Indistinct whisper.]

**JAD**  
...

Beat.

**JAD (CONT'D)**  
So we filmed a sketch...  
with a scandal-trend?

Fairuz leans back.

Arms crossed.

Calm, but lethal.

**FAIRUZ**  
If that's really him...

Beat.

**FAIRUZ (CONT'D)**  
...then we can't post this.

Silence.

The export bar suddenly finishes:

**EXPORT COMPLETE**

A cheerful digital sound.

Cruel.

### ANIMATION SEQUENCE

The Khaliji appears in majestic slow motion.

Wind.

Hero lighting.

Then -

A notification sound.

His costume turns to pixels.

The ghutra becomes a Beirut cap.

The kandoura shortens into jeans.

He scrolls his phone, laughing.

The animated version of the guys watches him dissolve.

Then their sketch set collapses like cardboard.

Leaving only the blinking cursor:

**UPLOAD**

### BACK TO EDITING ROOM

Real time.

Stillness.

The upload button glows.

Untouched.

Jad sits down slowly, as if the air has left his body.

**JAD**  
I really thought...  
this time it was going to work.

Mo keeps staring at the screen.

Not angry.

Not loud.

Just empty.

**MO (quiet)**  
[Line too damaged to recover with confidence.]

That line lands on the season's mystery.

For the first time, Temsah lowers the camera.

This is no longer content.

This is a crime scene.

Fairuz looks at Mo, gentler than ever before.

**FAIRUZ**  
Mo?

Mo looks at the upload button.

The title.

Their names.

Their hope.

He moves the cursor toward it.

Stops.

Long beat.

He closes the window.

No speech.

Just:

**DON'T SAVE**

Click.

The monitor goes black.

Their faces reflect in it.

Four ghosts.

**MO (whisper)**  
[Whisper too damaged in the source.]

Temsah instinctively raises the camera again.

Zoom into Mo.

**TEMSAH (very quietly, to camera)**  
Are we...?

He doesn't finish the sentence.

CUT TO BLACK.

## 15. INT. MYSTERY SHOW STUDIO - NIGHT

A sleek, high-end studio.

Dark background.

A floating screen behind the host shows a paused frame of Mo, Jad, and Temsah in the classroom sketch, the perfect instant of confidence.

Dramatic music.

The Egyptian host sits calmly, holding a tablet.

He watches a few seconds of their sketch.

Stops it.

Raises an eyebrow.

**HOST (EGYPTIAN)**  
Honestly...  
I tried. I swear I tried...  
to find something nice to say.

Beat.

He zooms in on Jad's "teacher" face.

**HOST (CONT'D)**  
But when the teacher himself is lost...  
and the students don't understand...  
and the Gulf guy turns out to be from Tripoli...

He lets the implication hang.

The screen changes.

A forensic-style graphic appears.

**PLAN -> Egyptian + Gulf -> ???**

A red stamp slams down:

**FAILED**

**HOST**  
The problem isn't that the sketch failed.  
The problem is that they worked hard...  
they shot it...  
they edited it...  
and in the end...  
it couldn't even be published.

So we're not looking at ordinary failure.  
We're looking at  
unpublishable failure.

He smiles, pleased by the cruelty.

On the screen behind him:

The upload window.

**CANCELLED**

Glitch.

Then:

**MISSING - MO / TEMSAH / JAD**

**HOST (lower, mock-serious)**  
Those three...  
as of this moment...  
are still missing.

The last thing they did...  
was close the video  
and walk away.

Where did they go?  
We don't know.

But what we do know...  
is that failure  
wasn't the last thing they tried.

He flips the tablet.

A new folder appears:

**NEXT IDEAS**

Inside, we glimpse:

- the three of them singing badly in a studio
- autotune waveforms
- a cheap heart logo for a dating show
- Jad in front of a mic, terrified

Fast flashes.

**HOST**  
Because in the next episode...  
after failing at acting...  
they decided to try singing.

Yes.  
Singing.

He leans forward.

**HOST (CONT'D)**  
And that, in itself,  
is a sound crime.

Beat.

He taps again.

A cheap graphic appears:

**"A Dating Show?"**

Mo and Jad shake hands like TV hosts.

Temsah films them.

**HOST**  
And that wasn't all.  
There was also a project  
for a matchmaking show.  
A love show.  
A romance show.  
Directed by people  
nobody likes.

He smiles into camera.

**HOST (soft, teasing)**  
So now the question is...  
Can virality save them?  
Or will they stay  
Chi Fechil?

Music hit.

On the screen behind him: a distorted freeze-frame of the three guys laughing in older footage.

Glitch.

Cut to black.