Topic: SLIDERS REBORN: 2016 Election Edition (Quinn meets Trump!)

In the aftermath of the 2016 US Election, the sliders must weigh their options as circumstances lead to Quinn Mallory confronting the new president-elect.

It is a time-honoured tradition that comic book superheroes meet real-life figures, especially the new US President. In that spirit, I would like to present this 17-page screenplay where the sliders do the same. Rave reviews so far include, "What's the point of this?" and "It's not as long as your other scripts."

While I consider this script to be set after Part 5 of SLIDERS REBORN, EP.COM reasonably and understandably opted out of including this installment, so for the full story on how Quinn, Wade, Rembrandt and Arturo are alive and well and home, please visit

Special thanks to Jeph Loeb, Joe Casey and Greg Rucka, and I look forward to Informant and Temporal Flux and Slider_Quinn21 possibly rubbishing this screenplay.


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                                                    FADE IN:

            ON A STATIC BURST:

            And then we see a newscaster before an electoral map.

                                     NEWSCASTER #1
                         And with Trump's victories in
                         Florida, Ohio, Michigan and
                         Pennsylvania, Donald James Trump will
                         be the forty-fifth President of the
                         United States.

            There's another STATIC BURST and then another newscaster.

                                     NEWSCASTER #2
                         This outcome disproved nearly every
                         scientific poll and electoral
                         projection as Donald Trump won every
                         Electoral College vote he needed --

            Static burst again. Then:

                                     NEWSCASTER #3
                         Democratic candidate Hillary Rodham
                         Clinton will deliver her concession
                         speech at ten-thirty in the morning
                         in the aftermath of a surprising and
                         unexpected upset --

            Another STATIC BURST. Then we see footage of a Trump rally
            where a crowd of people in MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN HATS are
            whooping and cheering. Shouts of "Build that wall!" and "Lock
            her up!" can be heard.

            Another STATIC BURST followed by footage of Nevada Senator
            Harry Reid addressing the camera:

                                     SENATOR REID
                         We've elected a man who brags about
                         assaulting women. He'll block food
                         stamps, obliterate the EPA and punish
                         the female population for exercising
                         reproductive rights --

            Static burst and we see a man on the street:

                         I look out my door and I see my
                         neighbors starving to death or ODing
                         on oxys while our roads fall apart
                         and our jobs go to India and China
                         and the Clinton camp was saying
                         America was in great shape; what'd
                         you expect us to do?

            Static burst again, then a shot of shot of a woman whom
            onscreen text identifies as Cecile Richards, President of
            Planned Parenthood.

                         We will fight to make sure Planned
                         Parenthood health center doors stay
                         open --

            Static burst and we see a woman in a suit speaking:

                         Americans voted in a Democrat for
                         eight years and we're still living in
                         poverty while the DNC has cocktail
                         parties. There comes a point when
                         voting's a way to screw over the
                         people running a system that doesn't
                         care about you --

            A gentleman suddenly sticks his head into the frame and
            shrieks into the camera --

                         Grab her by the pussy! Grab her by
                         the pussy!!! Trumpland now, baby,

            He walks away off camera, laughing madly as he departs. The
            woman scowls as she continues speaking.

                         And, of course, there's that.

            Another static burst and we see a different woman, this one
            identified onscreen as Susan Herman, President of the
            American Civil Liberties Union:

                         The president-elect's campaign
                         promised an assault on the freedoms
                         that define this nation and he will
                         not take them from us without a fight
                         -- we will sue him on every one of
                         his campaign promises to reauthorize
                         torture and restrict freedom of
                         speech --

            And then a final static burst as we go back to the very first
            newscaster --

                                     NEWSCASTER #1
                         President-elect Trump made his first
                         visit to the White House today
                         followed by passing through Capitol
                         Hill --

                                                    CUT TO:

            INT. HOTEL BAR - NIGHT

            A small placard on the bar reads TRUMP HOTEL - WASHINGTON,
            DC. This sedate establishment is the picture of ostentatious
            luxury. Chandeliers hang from the ceiling. Wide racks of
            bottles behind the bar reach the ceiling. There's gold-plated
            lamps on every table.

            A small number of male and female patrons in sharply tailored
            suits are scattered throughout. The sparse number of
            customers suggest exclusivity.

            At the entrance, two suited and sunglasses wearing men enter
            and look about. They are taken by surprise when a 70-year-old
            man with an absurd combover and a floppy suit hurtles between
            them and into the bar.

                         Skip the security sweep, boys!
                         Rifraff never gets into this joint --
                         you have to own at least one private
                         island to even know about this
                         watering hole.

            The Secret Service agents make protesting noises, but Trump
            waves them off and ambles towards the nearly deserted bar,
            leaving the agents to take posts by the entrance.

            Trump spies a television mounted on a wall showing his press
            meeting at the White House. His gaze remains fixed upon his
            image on the screen; he bangs into the bar before he realizes
            he's arrived, he edges himself onto a seat. Still staring at
            the TV, he waves for the bartender.

                         Scotch on the rocks.

            Trump, watching the TV, doesn't notice when a FLANNEL-WEARING
            MAN with LONG HAIR takes a seat next to Trump.

            Quinn Mallory looks shockingly out of place amidst the sharp
            suits of the other patrons. The bartender looks at Quinn.
            Quinn inclines his head in Trump's direction.

                         I'll have what he's having.

                                                    SMASH CUT TO:

            A BLACK SCREEN and then the words:

                                  12 hours earlier.

                                                    CUT TO:


            We're in a room with a long table and walls made of glass.
            Portions of the glass appear to be windows looking out at San
            Francisco, but other parts are display screens. Inside the
            room are Quinn Mallory, Wade Welles, Rembrandt Brown,
            Professor Arturo, Maggie Beckett and Dr. Diana Davis.

            The display screens show Trump giving his victory speech

                         I say we take him out and end this
                         nightmare now.

            Arturo glares at Maggie.

                         Captain Beckett, we do not deal in
                         assassination. Kindly let our moral
                         position that murder is wrong
                         penetrate that brick you call a

                         He's a bigoted, homophobic, racist,
                         climate-change denying profiteer of
                         poverty who just became leader of the
                         free world --

                         Killing is not an option.
                         But we might forcibly relocate him to
                         an alternate Earth with a thriving
                         neo-Nazi regime; we would certainly
                         take every measure for his comfort.

                         Do we have a plan for the power
                         vacuum we get then, Professor? Or do
                         you figure it out then like the last
                         time you half-assed your way into

            As Arturo scowls --

                         Hey -- don't we have a robot in the
                         basement that we could shape up to
                         look like anybody? How about we
                         replace Donald with D.E.R.I.C. the

                         You propose to have a defective piece
                         of artificial intelligence replace
                         that defective human being?

                         Who'd know the difference? And we
                         could program D.E.R.I.C. to do what's
                         best --

                         If we're going to have the president
                         elect on our hands, there's
                         rehabilitative measures we could
                         consider, too. He clearly has some
                         sort of neurological disorder; we
                         dose him with anti-psychotics and
                         mood stabilizers --

                         I think we should definitely do all
                         of that, but I want to say I'm really
                         into my robot idea and we should
                         reprogram D.E.R.I.C. to give fireside
                         chats with musical accompaniment --

                         Are we sure we can make the robot
                         mimic that ridiculous hair?

                         And in terms of relocation, another
                         option is that Earth where reality
                         television replaced all government
                         surveillance programs --

            But then a voice that has been silent thus far cuts into the

                         No. We're not doing any of that.

            The sliders fall silent and all of them stare at Quinn
            Mallory with sheer astonishment.

                         He won the electoral votes. The law
                         is the law. We're not unilaterally
                         removing an elected official; we're
                         not kidnapping him; we're not
                         replacing him with a robot and we're
                         not involving this organization in
                         partisan politics.

            And then the sliders' astonishment is replaced with outrage
            as the room is filled with angry shouts in Quinn's direction.

                         Partisan politics? This has gone way
                         beyond whose side gets the White
                         House, Quinn!

                         Our president-elect has declared his
                         sheer contempt for the rules of war,
                         for anyone with origins that differ
                         from his, for the female-half of the
                         population, for civil liberties --
                         this man's rise to power cannot be

                         He wants a nuclear arms race! He
                         wants soldiers to commit war crimes!

                         Under his administration, we're
                         looking at even more of the country
                         starving to death or dying from
                         treatable illnesses, he's going to
                         put a Creationist in charge of
                         education and staff the EPA with
                         climate change deniers --

                         What's the deal, Q-Ball? I thought
                         you were a scientist! I thought you
                         went to freakin' Berkeley! And you
                         got no right telling us how to react
                         to this looney tune that just got the
                         keys to the kingdom!

            Quinn remains absolutely calm in these frenzied verbal
            assaults. He allows each snipe and shout until they finally
            run short of breath. A silent moment passes.

                         I'm not telling you what to feel. Or
                         what to do. I'm saying that whatever
                         you decide to do -- whatever we
                         decide to do -- we do it without
                         Sliders Incorporated. No slidetech.
                         No gadgets. No gear.

            Quinn looks at each of his friends for a moment as he speaks
            with an earnest and gentle sense of caution.

                         We're not here to inflict our will on
                         the world. We're a relief
                         organization. We tend to the wounded
                         and vulnerable -- but we don't punish
                         those we find wanting.
                         We don't interfere with a democratic
                         political process no matter how
                         distasteful we find the results.

            Maggie gets an alert on her smartwatch. She focuses entirely
            on her watch as the discussion continues.

                         Quinn, we interfere every single day.

                         We used sliding to turn poison into
                         water, we've brought the dead back to
                         life, sort of --

                         We've turned ink into food and waste
                         into fuel --

                         Within San Francisco. We can't even
                         begin to calculate the results of
                         using Sliders Incorporated on a
                         global scale.

                         How can we withhold our ability to
                         influence global events when this new
                         president will have no such scruples?

                         Professor, our civilization's been
                         designed to extract resources for the
                         benefit of a few at the expense of
                         the rest, and that's the case whether
                         the figurehead for that system's a
                         career politician or a reality show

                         That figurehead could've been the
                         first female US President in history!
                         Instead, we've got a psycho!

                         A robber baron who incites violence
                         and emboldens bigots. This election
                         is a travesty!

                         Or it's an opportunity. This
                         country's pretended for too long that
                         racism's in the past -- or that
                         crumbling infrastructure and rampant
                         poverty can be ignored -- or that
                         politicians can call themselves
                         Democrats when they only serve

                         So -- this national public service
                         announcement is worth us living
                         through four years an administration
                         that's completely insane?

                         Administrations come and go. One
                         status quo's been replaced with
                         another, the only difference being
                         the previous one paid lip service to
                         civil liberties and environmental
                         issues while the new one won't
                         pretend to try. But our work here

            The sliders hear him. But they don't feel what he's saying.
            Quinn keeps talking anyway.

                         We keep looking for ways to feed the
                         hungry, treat the sick, inform the
                         ignorant, protect the weak; we
                         develop our methods in this city and
                         then we share them with the world.

            Quinn gestures to the screens of post-electoral news

                         And we stay far away from all of

            But then Maggie looks up from her smartwatch.

                         What if we can't? What if you can't?

                         What're you talking about?

                         I just got something from a contact.

            She taps several times on her smartwatch. And then ONE OF THE
            GLASS DISPLAY SCREENS flickers and shows an image. An image
            of an aged Motorola phone from the 90s.

                         What's that look like to you?

                         A timer -- an example of Mr.
                         Mallory's gifts for aesthetic design,
                         such as they are. What of it?

            Maggie taps on her smartwatch. The image ZOOMS OUT to reveal
            that the timer is ONE OBJECT sitting on a cabinet in a
            on his desk, smirking smugly at the camera.

                         My God.

                         What the heck is a timer doing in the
                         Donald's office?!

                         He bought it. Bought it years ago off
                         an FBI auction. They had it in
                         evidence that was taking up space;
                         they sold it in a clearance sale with
                         this Order of St. George medal that
                         Trump seemed to want.

                         But -- the timer and the FBI's
                         evidence -- I thought that would've
                         been erased after the reset --

                         From what you've told me, the
                         erasures weren't perfect. Quinn being
                         here's proof of that.

                         Now -- here's a message from last
                         week sent between Trump's private
                         server and the Kremlin's scientific

            The photograph is replaced with a white screen showing the

                         We've been making waves. And our new
                         president's buddies in Russia have
                         been looking into us. They haven't
                         found a thing except for that loose
                         end that's been in Trump's office for
                         awhile and just got shipped off to
                         some black-ops lab in Moscow.

                         Wait wait wait wait wait -- so what
                         you're telling me is that Russia and
                         Donald Trump could get their fingers
                         on sliding?

                         Then the situation has changed.
                         Partisan politics or not, sliding and
                         its applications are open to misuse
                         and abuse, especially by this man.

                         This just went beyond global. This
                         went interdimensional.

                               (to Quinn)
                         You still really think you're above
                         all this?

            And on Quinn's grim expression --

                                                    FLASHCUT TO:

            QUINN AT THE BAR

            Sitting next to Donald Trump as the bartender brings their
            scotches to them. Donald raises his glass for a taste. Quinn
            rotates the glass, never lifting it.

            A few patrons mill in the background or sit at tables, but
            the bar is so vacant that Quinn and Donald are essentially
            alone. Quinn sets his jaw, preparing for a confrontation.

            But then Trump lowers his glass and says to Quinn --

                         I was wondering when you'd be popping
                         in for a visit, whiz kid.

            Quinn's jaw drops. He keeps staring at his glass, but he
            visibly shrinks, seeming almost tiny next to Trump's
            overbearing presence.

                         Don't look so shocked, boy. I've got
                         friends you've visited in the dead of
                         the night. Warning them off or
                         offering some help. What brings you
                         here? Because I'm not needing
                         anyone's help -- in case you missed
                         it, I just won the whole country and
                         everything that's in it and I'd have
                         to look down with binoculars if I
                         wanted to see the top of the world!

                         I came here to tell you what the
                         deal's going to be.

            Donald's mouth puckers with momentary outrage at this flannel
            wearing man-child dictating to him. On Quinn's end, we can
            suddenly see the outrage and disgust that Quinn has for
            Trump. The contempt and loathing. Blazing in his eyes.

                         You can have sliding. Or you can have
                         the presidency. Not both.

            Donald's eyes widen with fury.

                         Where's the timer, Donald?

            Donald's eyes start sweeping to the side. Looking at the
            reflection of the mirror behind the bar. Looking for his
            Secret Service agents.

            And Quinn's voice drops to a cold and terrifying whisper as
            he speaks in the most matter-of-fact fashion.

                         You really think they can stop me?
                         You gave the Kremlin the timer. You
                         know what I am. You know what I can
                         do. You're a reality TV star who
                         bluffed and blustered through an
                         election. I'm a slider. I walk
                         between dimensions. I can erase you
                         from reality before your minders take
                         two steps.

            Quinn uses two fingers to push his glass back and forth
            between his hands.

                         I could put this drinking glass where
                         your heart should be. I could send
                         you to the bottom of the Atlantic. Or
                         forty feet to the left and just
                         outside the building. You think your
                         helpers over there can save you from
                         falling thirty storeys to the ground?

            And then Quinn finally turns to look at Donald Trump.

                         The timer. Tell me where it is.

            Donald shakily rotates in his seat to look towards Quinn,
            hesitating to meet Quinn's eyes. But eventually he does --
            and then Donald Trump bursts into a lengthy ROAR OF LAUGHTER.

            His eyes shut as he chortles uncontrollably, spraying spit
            and gesticulating madly. His red tie flies into the air. His
            Secret Service agents each take a step towards the bar, but
            Trump waves several times to hold them back as he finally
            finishes his burst of hilarity.

            Quinn's once grave expression is now blankly confused like
            he's an actor who's stumbled onto the wrong stage.

                         This is not a joke.

                         You're right, you're absolutely
                         right, you're completely dead
                         serious, believe me, I know you're
                         being serious. But here's the thing:
                         you may not be joking, but you are a
                         joke, a complete and total joke.

            There isn't an ounce of fear in Donald, just mockery.

                         Didja think you were going to walk
                         into my bar and be like Batman? And
                         it's funny how you want a piece of
                         hardware over in the Kremlin's
                         backyard, but you'd come looking to
                         me to give you directions instead of,
                         I don't know, someone who's actually
                         in that country! So here's what I
                         think, here's what I really think.

            Quinn can't get a word in as Donald lectures Quinn in a
            Trumpian trade.

                         I think you're a dickless nerd
                         leading an army of dickless nerds
                         over at Hamburgers Consolidated or
                         whatever you call yourselves. I think
                         you probably got your timer back
                         already and you didn't come here for
                         an address or even my best Jim Bean.

            Quinn exhales scornfully at Donald's liquor while finding no
            other point of contradiction.

                         You came here to try to put me in my
                         place, put the fear of God into me
                         with your teleportation and all the
                         things you can do with it -- like
                         sending me into the tiger cage at
                         the zoo or somewhere in New Jersey.
                         And you can do all that, I know you
                         could, but I also know that you very
                         much won't, never would, never will.

            Quinn gapes at Donald's understanding of him. Donald sneers
            at Quinn's dismay.

                         Seen your work, big boy. Seen what
                         you do -- sliding condoms into
                         Africa, sliding meds into Something
                         Cross, giving away wifi with weather
                         balloons. I see you sending slaves in
                         Bosnia and Croatia to Ecuador,
                         stealing all the copper cabling outta
                         Iran's launch sites --

            He raises his glass almost respectfully to Quinn.

                         But here's what I don't ever see -- I
                         don't see you ever taking anyone out.
                         I don't ever see you gunning for
                         anyone; I don't ever see the top guys
                         disappearing and I definitely don't
                         see you starting with me, but hey,
                         prove me wrong.

            Donald takes another swig of scotch like it's his last.

                         Send me outside, little man! Go on,
                         go ahead, send me outside!

            And Quinn sits still and unmoving. Trump rotates in his
            barstool once, waiting. Nothing happens.

            And Trump nods in a nearly prim fashion.

                         That's what I thought. That is what I
                         thought. You know the difference
                         between me and you? The difference
                         between me and you -- guys like you
                         always want to do the math on every
                         decision, run the numbers. And if the
                         decision is too big, you get stuck
                         doing math and you never ever make
                         your move. You're a little man who's
                         never ever gonna make a move.

            Quinn is rigid and frozen in his seat.

                         So, now that we've run through what
                         you can do, let's run through what I
                         can do. You ever heard of PRISM? You
                         know PRISM?


                         How about XKeyscore? Know that one?
                         DISHFIRE? STORMBREW? Dropmire?
                         MYSTIC? They all stand for something,
                         I don't know what, but they're great
                         surveillance programs that do great
                         work and then there's the NSA, FBI,
                         CIA, DHS and more three-letter combos
                         I can't remember and would probably
                         spell wrong and they're mine now.
                         They're all mine.

            Quinn examines his unconsumed drink.

                         Unlike you, these big names are
                         actually shit a brick scary. And
                         unlike you, I'm not bluffing and with
                         a few words, I could turn every
                         single one of them onto you and yours
                         and you don't want that.

            Donald leans over, now speaking into Quinn's ear.

                         I could have you, that little dyke
                         the black one and Pavarotti -- eating
                         rat shit in Guantanamo by the end of
                         the day. I could have my boys track
                         down anyone you've ever said two
                         words to and lock 'em up as a person
                         of interest for national security.

                         I'd stop you.

                         Oh you would, you'd have to, how
                         could you not? Except then you'd have
                         to make the moves that you can't
                         bring yourself to make because if you
                         were going do anything to me,
                         you'd've done it by now. So let me
                         tell you what the deal's going to be.

            Quinn waits.

                         You're going to go back to your
                         little city. I see one flash of a
                         vortex in my line of sight again and
                         me and a lot of three-letter agencies
                         come down on you like a ton of
                         bricks. You're going to stay out of
                         my face which means I'll never have
                         any reason to get into yours.

            Quinn says nothing.

                         That is the deal you came to make. So
                         let's just be clear that I'm the one
                         making it. Stay out of the big
                         leagues, little man.

            And Quinn finally lets out a breath.

                         Your scotch is on me, now get out of
                         my bar. Stick to handing out
                         hamburgers to the homeless. Because
                         what can you really do to me or about
                         me? What can you really, actually do?

            Quinn takes a moment to contemplate the question. Then he
            steps off the barstool while pushing his drink back from the
            bar. He looks at Donald apologetically as though to say sorry
            for not taking a single sip.

                         Thank you for the drink.

            He stands and walks off. There's a sudden BURST OF LIGHT AND
            WIND. A crackling vortex that sends Trump's combover into a
            fluttered mess and vanishes instantly. Donald jumps at the
            sight. Then the light fades away.

            And Quinn is gone.

                                                    FADE TO:


            We're in a lounge-area of Sliders Incorporated. There's a
            kitchenette in the back and some TVs on the wall. On one of
            them, we see one of San Francisco's  rainbow-painted street
            crossings graffitied with the words TRUMPLAND! Another
            television has an image of a sign that says TRUMP DIGS COAL.
            Another has an image of Mike Pence next to a sign reading:
            CURE THE GAYS.

            Quinn's at a counter. Pouring coffee into six travel mugs. He
            casts a brief glance at the TV and then looks away, filling
            the mugs, tightening their lids, gathering them in his arms
            and walking away.

                                                    CUT TO:

            INT. HALLWAY - MORNING

            We see Wade, Rembrandt, Arturo, Maggie and Diana standing in
            a hallway. All are casually dressed except Diana in her
            doctor's labcoat. Quinn comes down the hall and the other
            sliders greet him merrily and each take one of his travel
            mugs as they head out the door.

                                                    CUT TO:

            EXT. STREET - MORNING

            The sliders walk down the streets of San Francisco, talking
            inaudibly, laughing and smiling.

            And in a RAPID SERIES OF SHOTS:

            They pass by a peach-coloured building with a sign reading
            PLANNED PARENTHOOD. Diana cheerily waves the sliders good-bye
            as she enters the building.

            In a subsequent shot, the sliders pass a building with a sign
            reading THE SF LGBTQ CENTER. Wade and Maggie separate from
            the sliders to enter this facility and the other sliders
            continue along.

            Farther along is a stone and glass building with a GREENPEACE
            sign in one of the windows. Rembrandt and Arturo nod to each
            other in mutual affirmation and walk inside.

            Quinn watches them go with a smile. He's all by himself now
            and he continues onward, passing the Hyatt Regency hotel and
            breaking into a eager run towards his destination.

                                                    FADE TO:

            INT. OFFICE - MORNING

            A receptionist is working on her computer when a figure
            approaches the counter. She holds up a finger for one moment,
            finishes clicking with her mouse and then looks up.

                         Morning. And you are?

            Quinn is standing at the counter. Behind him there's a banner
            on the wall. It reads AMERICAN CIVIL LIBERTIES UNION OF

                         My name is Quinn Mallory and I'm here
                         to volunteer.


Re: SLIDERS REBORN: 2016 Election Edition (Quinn meets Trump!)

Very well done.  An interesting twist on current events twisted up in SLIDERS:REBORN.  I liked the moral argument that Quinn makes, and I like that he stands up for what he believes.  It's a well-done dialogue, and I think you captured Trump about as well as you could have.

It did make me wonder how the Sliders would see this election.  Clearly, Wade would support Hillary.  I think Arturo would be turned off by Trump the human being.  But then I started wondering about the others.  Would Rembrandt and/or Maggie be so quick to turn on a democratically-elected president?  Season 1-2 Rembrandt would probably lean more liberal (especially being a black man), but seasons 3+ Rembrandt (being a Navy man) would probably be a bit more reserved in that opinion.  I know staunch military democrats who hated Trump and feared him as a boss, but they were very careful to say anything negative.  He will be their boss.  Or at least the boss of people like them.

Maggie also might be a feminist but not to the degree of Wade.  And, again, she's military.  She worked for a supervillain in Colonel Rickman.  She might think a lot of things, but I don't know if she'd say it (your Maggie is a double, though, right?).  And other than being black (so, again, leaning democrat) and a scientist (pragmatic), I have no idea what Diana would think.

I don't think any of the sliders would've voted Trump, but I can see a couple of them voting third party or refusing to vote for either candidate.  I think Quinn and Wade (maybe Mallory) are the only definite Hillary votes in the lot.

An interesting thought experiment for sure.