Chapter 7 – Page 023
Don’t knock this approach, decade-old Yahoo Answers are how I built the website you’re browsing right now.
↓ Transcript
Panel 1 (wide):
Young Nancy wheels a trolley into a derelict warehouse teetering on the edge of a sandpit leading up to the Stratford Canal.
NANCY (box): ‘I found me an empty warehouse in Stratford where I could experiment in peace.’
NANCY (box): ‘This was before the Olympics, there were still large swathes of the East End that were post-apocalyptic wastelands.’
SI (box): ‘When ya really think, ain’t Westfield centres jus’ another kindof post-apocalyptic wasteland?’
NANCY (box): ‘Oi, I’m the cynic here, getcher own gig.’
Panel 2:
Nancy’s phone, hooked up to all kinds of wires, is foregrounded as she hooks up a mountain of equipment in the back.
NANCY (box): ‘Hooking up electricity was the hard bit, after that…’
NANCY (box): ‘...like, I was going off a printed Usenet post and half-remembered bits of the Anarchist Cookbook, there’s no way it shoulda slotted together as easy as it did.’
Panel 3:
Closeup of two buttons on the front panel of a piece of equipment, both of which Nancy is somehow able to press with her right index finger simultaneously.
NANCY (box): ‘Just being near the equipment was breaking down reality ever so slightly.’
NANCY (box): ‘Little things at first.’
Panel 4 (narrow):
Nancy stares confused at the buttons she pressed with just the one finger to do it.
NANCY: …the hell just happe-?
Panel 5 (narrow):
Same view. Nancy’s face registers confusion and Nancy’s other spatially-displaced face registers a searing migraine.
NANCY: -ngh!
Panel 6 (narrow):
Same view. Nancy rubs the temple of her reconstituted head.
NANCY (box): ‘Reason seven hundred why I needed to stop.’
SI (box): ‘Which you ignored?’
NANCY (box): ‘Naturally.’
Young Nancy wheels a trolley into a derelict warehouse teetering on the edge of a sandpit leading up to the Stratford Canal.
NANCY (box): ‘I found me an empty warehouse in Stratford where I could experiment in peace.’
NANCY (box): ‘This was before the Olympics, there were still large swathes of the East End that were post-apocalyptic wastelands.’
SI (box): ‘When ya really think, ain’t Westfield centres jus’ another kindof post-apocalyptic wasteland?’
NANCY (box): ‘Oi, I’m the cynic here, getcher own gig.’
Panel 2:
Nancy’s phone, hooked up to all kinds of wires, is foregrounded as she hooks up a mountain of equipment in the back.
NANCY (box): ‘Hooking up electricity was the hard bit, after that…’
NANCY (box): ‘...like, I was going off a printed Usenet post and half-remembered bits of the Anarchist Cookbook, there’s no way it shoulda slotted together as easy as it did.’
Panel 3:
Closeup of two buttons on the front panel of a piece of equipment, both of which Nancy is somehow able to press with her right index finger simultaneously.
NANCY (box): ‘Just being near the equipment was breaking down reality ever so slightly.’
NANCY (box): ‘Little things at first.’
Panel 4 (narrow):
Nancy stares confused at the buttons she pressed with just the one finger to do it.
NANCY: …the hell just happe-?
Panel 5 (narrow):
Same view. Nancy’s face registers confusion and Nancy’s other spatially-displaced face registers a searing migraine.
NANCY: -ngh!
Panel 6 (narrow):
Same view. Nancy rubs the temple of her reconstituted head.
NANCY (box): ‘Reason seven hundred why I needed to stop.’
SI (box): ‘Which you ignored?’
NANCY (box): ‘Naturally.’