TEXT: THE SUN MAKERS BY: ROBERT HOLMES Part One Running time: 24:59 [SCENE_BREAK] WOMAN: Citizen Cordo, District Four? CORDO: Yes? WOMAN: Congratulations, Citizen. Your father ceased at one ten. CORDO: All was well? WOMAN: A fine death. Body weight was eighty four kilos at termination. CORDO: I'm gratified. WOMAN: Gatherer Hade is waiting for the death taxes. CORDO: Yes, I have them here. WOMAN: Pay them at the Gatherer's office. [SCENE_BREAK] HADE: Let him enter. HADE: Well, Citizen. Death taxes? Not on the desk. It might scar. CORDO: Oh, it is wood, your honour. HADE: Mmm, of a kind called ma-ho-gany. I don't suppose you've ever seen wood before, have you, Citizen? CORDO: No, never. But we learned about it at preparation centre. There was even a picture of a tree! A fine thing. HADE: Simply a primitive way of producing oxygen. Thank the Company we have no need of trees on Pluto. CORDO: Praise the Company. HADE: Is this your account, Citizen? I see you selected the golden death, with four mercy attendants. CORDO: Yes, your honour. I always pledged that when his death day came he would not suffer. HADE: Compassion is a noble thing, Citizen. Also costly. A hundred and seventeen talmars. CORDO: One hundred and seven? No, it can't be. HADE: See the account. CORDO: But there's a mistake. Eighty, they said. Eighty for the golden death. HADE: The Collector recently raised death taxes seventeen percent. CORDO: I didn't know, your Honour. HADE: It was bulletined. CORDO: But I didn't see it. HADE: It is every citizen's duty to know the tax rates. CORDO: I've been working double shifts to earn the money.
SUMMARY:
The Tardis lands on Pluto in the far future. Instead of being a lifeless rock, there's scented air, massive buildings, six suns, a human population subjugated by crippling taxes from a government called "The Company," and a man about to commit suicide.