Month: July 2025

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1901 The Movie: Tower Power

Title: 1901
Genre: Historical Drama / Tech Thriller
Starring:

  • Goran Visnjic as Nikola Tesla
  • Tom Cruise as Thomas Edison
  • Anthony Hopkins as J.P. Morgan

TREATMENT:

LOGLINE:
In the dawn of the 20th century, as the world braces for a new era of electricity, innovation, and empire, visionary inventor Nikola Tesla battles powerful rival Thomas Edison and financier J.P. Morgan in a high-stakes war of technology, control, and legacy.

ACT I – THE CURRENT WAR

The film opens in New York City, 1901, amidst the clanging steel and electric hum of a rapidly industrializing world. Serbian-born genius Nikola Tesla (Goran Visnjic) is isolated, eccentric, and destitute — living in a hotel room with pigeons and unfinished blueprints. Flashbacks show his rise: the immigrant prodigy who once lit up the Chicago World’s Fair, now a forgotten man.

Meanwhile, Thomas Edison (Tom Cruise) is in his prime — rich, famous, and ruthless. He’s using Direct Current (DC) to power cities, even as Tesla’s Alternating Current (AC) system proves superior. Yet Edison refuses to yield, launching public smear campaigns and electrocutions of animals to sway opinion.

Enter J.P. Morgan (Anthony Hopkins) — the titanic banker and industrialist. Cold, cunning, and with a towering presence, Morgan finances Tesla’s early innovations, only to turn on him when Tesla proposes free wireless energy from his Wardenclyffe Tower. Morgan scoffs: “If anyone can draw power from the air, where do we put the meter?”

ACT II – WARDENCLYFFE AND THE WIRELESS DREAM

Tesla races to complete his Wardenclyffe facility on Long Island — a futuristic tower meant to transmit energy and information across the globe. He dreams of a world with no borders, no wires, and no war. Goran Visnjic brings emotional depth to Tesla’s quiet madness and genius.

Edison and Morgan, threatened by this utopian vision, ally to sabotage Tesla. A secret committee of industrialists calls Tesla’s project “the greatest threat to capitalism.” Newspapers publish stories of Tesla as a dangerous madman.

Tesla’s experiments grow stranger: death rays, earthquake machines, and cryptic claims of signals from Mars. He is either on the brink of world-shaping discovery — or insanity.

ACT III – THE COLLAPSE AND THE LEGACY

Morgan pulls funding. Edison secures government contracts. The tower is dismantled. Tesla is evicted from his lab and reduced to speaking at clubs about “vibrational frequencies” and “invisible waves.” He feeds pigeons, ignored by the world he helped create.

But something remains. In a secret final experiment, Tesla transmits a brief pulse of power across the Atlantic — lighting a bulb in Morocco. The scene is mythic, near-spiritual. He smiles. He’s proven it can be done.

The final scenes flash-forward to the 21st century — wireless tech, drones, satellites, clean energy — Tesla’s dreams made real. A child opens a physics textbook. The name “Tesla” is on the cover.

FINAL IMAGE:

A long shot of the Eiffel Tower, lit at night. Lightning strikes. Somewhere, unseen, the current still flows.

Tone & Style:

A blend of The Prestige, There Will Be Blood, and Oppenheimer. Real science. Real rivalry. Real madness. Moody cinematography, dark Tesla coil visuals, and industrial-age dread. The moral question: who owns the future — visionaries, businessmen, or no one?

Tagline:
“He lit the world… but couldn’t pay his own light bill.”

Let me know if you’d like a poster, screenplay pages, or dialogue samples.

FINAL SCENE: 1901 – Epilogue

INT. DARKENED HOTEL ROOM – NEW YORK CITY – NIGHT

Nikola Tesla (Goran Visnjic), gaunt and alone, stares at the last of his pigeons out the window. On the desk, blueprints of machines decades ahead of their time — wireless energy, antigravity ships, particle beams — scatter like abandoned dreams.

A single bulb flickers above. Then dies.

Tesla closes his eyes.

TESLA (V.O.)
The present is theirs. The future, for which I really worked, is mine.

A deep rumble builds…

EXT. PARIS – NIGHT – 2025

The Eiffel Tower stands glowing in the distance, but a storm is brewing overhead.

Suddenly — a bolt of lightning crashes into the top of the tower.

The entire skyline of Paris surges with electricity — a city powered by Tesla’s forgotten vision.

Standing at the base of the Eiffel Tower, smiling in awe, are:

  • Joe Jukic, in a black leather jacket
  • Nelly Furtado, in a futuristic emerald dress
  • Justin Trudeau, in a navy blue suit
  • Katy Perry, radiant in a velvet gown
  • Emmanuel Macron, proud, and
  • Brigitte Macron, elegant and calm

They look up as the tower surges with power — not just electricity, but hope.

In this moment, the world realizes Tesla’s dream wasn’t madness — it was prophecy.

A caption fades in:

“Dedicated to Nikola Tesla — the man who saw the future.”

CLOSING CREDITS

As the credits roll, the soundtrack features an original song by Nelly Furtado and Joe Jukic called “Lightning for the People” — a blend of classical strings, pulsing synths, and poetic lyrics about free energy, stolen dreams, and a future reclaimed.

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Return of the Plague

Title: The Ocelot Initiative

In the year 2031, as the world stumbled through another wave of ecological disasters and viral outbreaks, a silent terror crept back into the global cities—the Black Plague, or bubonic plague, whispered its ancient name through crowded subways and flickering hospital lights.

It started in Cairo. Rats swarmed the train stations. A week later, Mumbai. Then New York, Paris, Tokyo. Fleas bloated with Yersinia pestis latched onto humans as sanitation crumbled beneath urban sprawl and climate collapse.

Panic ensued.

Except in Brazil.

Specifically, São Paulo, the mega-metropolis that had long been dismissed by the world as chaotic and ungovernable. But it was there that the visionary mystic and novelist Paulo Coelho, having retreated from writing and joined an obscure ecological think tank in the Amazon, unveiled his Ocelot Initiative.

“Spiritual problems require natural answers,” he once said in a viral TEDx talk, wearing a linen robe and stroking a spotted feline lounging across his lap.

Coelho’s idea was unorthodox: genetically assisted rewilding of native ocelots—the elusive jungle cats of South America—into urban ecosystems. These sleek predators, trained and bio-tagged by an AI-assisted harmony algorithm called Aleph, were reintroduced into São Paulo’s alleyways, rooftops, and sewage tunnels.

At first, the world laughed.

But when footage emerged of ocelots slinking through favelas, leaping onto trash bins, elegantly pouncing on fat rats carrying plague fleas, the laughter turned to curiosity. Then jealousy.

While Paris was shut down and the Seine clogged with corpses, São Paulo remained open. Children rode bicycles in Ibirapuera Park. People gathered at jazz clubs. No lockdowns. No deaths. No plague.

Reporters from CNN and Al Jazeera streamed in. They found that Coelho’s ocelots were more than animals—they were part of a spiritual and ecological renaissance. Locals called them “Os Vigias”—the Watchers.

“It’s not just the ocelots,” Coelho explained to a BBC crew. “It’s the balance. We took nature seriously, and in doing so, nature protected us.”

The UN offered Brazil a seat at a newly formed Global Eco-Security Council. Coelho declined.

“We do not lead the world,” he said from his jungle compound, “but we may guide it, as a candle does in darkness.”

By the end of the year, other nations scrambled to copy the model. But they couldn’t replicate the spiritual aspect. The ocelots in New York became house pets. In London, they ran wild and mauled dogs. Only in São Paulo did they continue their silent vigil, graceful ghosts in the night, guardians of balance.

And somewhere in the shadows, Paulo Coelho whispered, “The universe always conspires in favor of the soul that seeks harmony.”

The plague never returned to Brazil.

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Cancel This Worthless Alliance


A short story by request

The panel room was sterile—white walls, no windows, guarded by bureaucratic silence and men in gray suits who didn’t blink. Joe Jukic sat under the blinding lights, the lone man in a folding chair before a tribunal of international power brokers. A nameplate in front of him read: Subject: Jukic, Joseph — Threat Assessment Review Panel.

Across the table, Dr. Vijay adjusted his glasses. He was sharp, calm, his Indian accent refined by years of education in the West. “Mr. Jukic,” he began, “your rhetoric has grown erratic. You claim alliances mean nothing. You provoke without remorse. Do you not understand? My words are backed by India’s nuclear triad. One command, and cities become glass.”

Joe cracked his knuckles. “You’re not the only one with words backed by warheads, Doc.” He leaned forward. “The Croats have survived a thousand years of empire and betrayal. And now we say this: Cancel this worthless alliance. NATO is finished. We don’t answer to George W. Bush, that Crusader King of Oil and Orphans. And if you want to know who backs our words—ask Putin. Ask Russia.”

Murmurs rippled through the panel. Dr. Vijay raised an eyebrow.

But then one of Joe’s Jewish psychiatrists, Dr. Weiss, cleared his throat nervously. “If I may interject… the Jewish doctors who’ve treated Joe are compelled to say—our words are also backed by nuclear weapons.”

The Iranian delegate scoffed. The British ambassador sipped his tea.

Then, from the back of the room, a young voice called out: “And so are Islam’s.”

Everyone turned.

It was Hamza, a teenage boy from Joe’s local mosque. Skinny, humble, brave. He stood firm in his hoodie and sneakers. “You forget,” he said calmly. “Pakistan has the bomb. Islam has the bomb. We protect our own.”

The room froze.

Suddenly, a grand old English voice creaked like a dusty cathedral bell. “And let us not forget the Crown.”

King Charles III stepped forward. Somehow, no one had seen him enter. Dressed in ceremonial blues and a cape of lions and roses, he raised a wrinkled hand. “British Columbia is my land, and Britain still has the bomb. My words too… are backed by nuclear weapons.”

A pause. The world was tilting.

Then came the moment no one expected.

Prime Minister Justin Trudeau, smooth-faced and smiling like a man who had just remembered mercy, rose beside French President Emmanuel Macron. “Enough,” Trudeau said. “Canada will not participate in this madness.”

Macron added with a shrug, “France believes in la parole forte. But we also believe in le pardon.”

Their combined words, too, were backed by nuclear fire.

Trudeau walked across the room, unlocked Joe’s cuffs with a tiny key, and helped him to his feet.

“You’re free, Joe,” he said. “Go home.”

Dr. Vijay looked stunned. King Charles nodded solemnly. Joe turned once more to the room.

“NATO is obsolete,” he said. “The Crusader games are over. We’ll build something new. Something not backed by bombs—but by truth.”

Hamza smiled. Even Dr. Weiss looked relieved.

And as Joe walked out into the bright unknown, for the first time in years, he didn’t feel like a subject on trial.

He felt like a free man.

The End.