Pseudogenesis is proud to present the first-ever stage adaptation of LordStonefish's underappreciated 1964 masterwork: 4012!
PROLOGUE.
1000 words.
INT. HOME. - BEFORE DAWN.
The HOUSE-LIGHTS are off, but the audience can still the dim outline of the STAGE, expanding vertically to fit from floor to ceiling.
With a bang, they activate.
They are dim, rose red, and reveal three levels, stairs interconnecting them. The SPOTLIGHT focuses on the top-level bedroom. It is small, cozy. Two men sleep: Micheal, whom is 35, slightly tall, skinny, messy-haired, and Jake, whom is 30, stockier, darker, neatly cropped and shaven. Micheal snores loudly — a pill bottle lies open on his bedside table.
Jake winces. He opens his eyes after a beat, and sits up slightly. He rubs his eyes and, silently, leaves the bed. He sighs and looks at Micheal for a moment before putting on his clothes.1
He goes to the second-level bathroom, and covers his eyes as he turns the light on. After acclimating, he washes his face, brushes his teeth, and stretches. He goes to the ground-floor kitchen, gets keys from a keyhook, and exits the home-model right.
The STAGE follows him, shifting the home-model left. He goes into a parking lot and yawns as he enters an battered truck with a ladder rack and toolchest in the back. He starts it after a failed attempt.
The curtain closes.
INT. OFFICE - WARM MORNING.
The HOUSE-LIGHTS shine down from across a wall of glass. It has a red target painted onto it.
A row of blue private offices, facing the audience, are occupied. The gray-skinned workers wear the Foundation insignia. The center office is for Brandon—25, blonde, short, athletic build. He is on the phone and is mad as hell.
BRANDON
What do you mean there was a mass-exoneration? That’s a couple dozen murderers they just let off the hook!
A pause. Brandon shakes his head.
BRANDON
Insane. Can’t believe they let that slide through the system.
BRANDON (CONT’D)
So what the hell does Command expect us to do? We’re not going to have enough D-Class for the explorations and Keter Duty! Do they really—
Brandon’s face grows stony.
Brandon
(ICILY)
Sir, I thought that policy’d been phased out.
A pause.
Brandon
Well, I can arrange for that… are you confident? We’re understaffed as it is, sending a—
A pause.
Brandon (Reservedly)
Alright, then. I'll arrange that, Sir.
Brandon pauses for a moment, nods, and hangs up the phone. He dials another number. He leans back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. It’s answered; he props his head up with his hands as he speaks.
BRANDON
(WORRIED)
Hey, Elena, execute Protocol Novena.
ELENA
Novena? You sure?
BRANDON
Yeah, ‘tis what Eliezer told me—we have no choice, the supermax we were contracted with bailed.
Elena
(Irritated)
God, what bastards! I’ll get the boys on that—anyone specific?
BRANDON
Just the usual. Get some undocumenteds. Older, healthy people. Might do explorations with 'em.
Elena
(CONTEMPTUOUSLY)
Got it. Make sure you expunge me from this.
Brandon
(Jokingly)
I was on it already!
Brandon hangs up the phone. His smile vanishes. He resettles his spectacles, and begins typing on his laptop.
The curtains close.
EXT. HARDWARE STORE PARKING LOT - DAWN.
Jake parks as the HOUSE-LIGHTS come on. They are warm but dim, like the light of early morning. The asphalt is cracked and white with erosion. There is a van and sportscar at the storefront. The windows are blacked out. The audience’s air is moist and smells of grass and exhaust.
Jake exits his car while on the phone. He waits at the front of his truck
JAKE
Yeah, I’ll get the material, Garrison. Tell Bryan I’ll get his big sander too for the remodeling, but I had to go way out my way to get it. Feels like all the Home Depots are closed ‘round these parts.
Behind, another, larger van pulls in at the back.
JAKE
It’ll be done. Shelves ain’t that hard to arm, but I’ll tell you, this is one silent motherfucker. I already called them asking for approval, but they ain’t pick up.
Behind, a man built like a linebacker taps an earpiece. He nods and walks to Jake’s truck.
JAKE
Was checking, that’s all! They’ll be done by the end of the day—just make sure it’s what they want, alright? I dunno if it is, and that worries me a bit.
The man adjusts his work-coat and checks his watch.
JAKE
Alright. See ya’, monstruo de la maza.
The man opens the store and flashes a look at Jake. He nods up. Jake puts his phone away and hangs his pocketknife from a belt loop. The man does not hesitate as he enters with Jake.
3 men exit from the truck’s cabins. They look at Jake’s truckbed and give a thumbs-down to the inside of the store.
A minute passes as these men wait against the door. A heated conversation is heard inside the store, though it’s unintelligible. One of the men cough. Jake leaves at that exact moment, and the doors slam into him, sending him to the floor.
The others burst into action, seizing Jake from both ends. He thrashes wildly, only barely contained.
JAKE (RAGGED)
Help! Please! Someone, call—
He is silenced by the third man, who puts a mask over Jake’s entire face. Jake goes limp after a short struggle.
The larger van starts up and begins to exit the store. As it does, the third man unlocks the doors to the van and reveals a dingy interior, naught but a bench and sink. Jake is tossed inside, and two men enter the front.
The “storeowner” exits now, a bleeding cut across his forearm. He waves the first man over.
MTF-CAPTAIN
You stay here, see how many more people show up.
MTF-MEMBER
Yes sir!
MTF-CAPTAIN
While you’re at it, check the guy we bagged. I’m positive he has nothing, but make damn sure. And flag anyone related to him, we'll amnesticize them later.
The MTF-member nods and removes a device from an unseen pocket. The Captain enters the sportscar and leaves.
END PROLOGUE.
Pseudogenesis Productions Proudly Presents:
4012!
PREFACE.
333 words.
4012, alternatively titled the David Lynch/LordStonefish Proposal, was a controversial novel published 3 months before the 1964 US-Presidential election. It criticized with contemporary clarity the direction in which America seemed to be heading: a future in which all humanity, mind and soul, was repressed through social and societal forces. While the author has revised it several times, the central premise has never changed.
To the non-anomalous public, the book is 300 pages of dream-like prose which depict a man amidst a sea of people with huge, monstrous jaws for heads: a fine premise, and one that is taken in directions unforeseeable by even the best critic. It is well-regarded for its incisive look into family relationships, the nature of forgiveness, and the subtle criticism of the homogeneity which America enforced on her citizens, which was brand-new in its day.
In the area of literary-anart, or litart, it is mostly praised and has won several awards, both for its use of dialogue-based memetic cues which were more seamless than anything its peers could offer, and the raw power behind each vivid image.
While the original revision of the book was already innovative, five revisions were published, each inching closer to the vaunted title of “revolutionary.” In 1995, this title may well have been achieved with what would be LordStonefish’s last return to the novel that started his career. That revision has the new title: “Teach Ten Thousand Stars How Not To Dance”, a reference to the infamous, striking image which closes the book.
This stage adaptation is a labor of love from all of us, most especially Stephanie and Vivienne. Whether we know it as Teach Ten Thousand Stars, 4012, or LordStonefish’s Proposal, we have all been deeply touched by this book and the impression that it made on us. Some of us even went into anart theatre as a result of reading this book.
We hope this does for you what it did for us.
~ Stephanie, Vivienne, Solomon, Duplo — The Pseudogenesis Crew.
ACT ONE, SCENE ONE
800 words.
EXT. FOREST PATH. — DUSK.
The HOUSE LIGHTS shine and illuminate the forest which surrounds the AUDIENCE. Both the lights and people sit comfortably on air. The forest is silent, sans a soft, opposite, breeze. A log CABIN sits a good distance away. Further is a lake.
The dusk splays orange across the sky.
MANIFEST — JAKE. 25, blonde, blue-eyed, disheveled prisoner.
JAKE is manifested at the center of the stage. He walks along a path which stretches through the forest. He wears a black-blue earpiece that envelops his left ear, a light green jumpsuit with the Foundation insignia sewn on the back, and handcuffs. They clink loudly.
He is merely talking, but his words are amplified.
JAKE
(AWESTRICKEN)
Are all of the anomalies like this?
A COMMANDER responds to him through the earpiece. The voice is muffled and menacing.
COMMANDER
No, unfortunately. It just happens that this is a Safe one.
JAKE
Oh.
COMMANDER
(CHUCKLING)
Yes, it's not all sunshine.
They continue in silence for a bit.
JAKE
Is this all that there is?
COMMANDER
We don’t know that for certain.
COMMANDER (CONT'D)
Keep walking forward or I’ll use that shocking device.2
JAKE starts down the path.
JAKE
You still won't tell me what's at the end here?
He continues for a while.
JAKE
(Worried)
Why would you do all of this to investigate a cabin?
Silence, so thick it might attack you.
JAKE
Answer me.
He stops a few feet from the CABIN. There is a dock there that was obscured by a shrub. It is short, well-maintained. At its end is a BOAT. It is windshorn and has patches of blue paint over a white hull. A name is embedded into it in red letters: “HOPE.”
A beat passes; the audience now sits some distance from the CABIN. They can see everything perfectly.
JAKE stands next to the CABIN's door, some feet away from the BOAT. He perks up.
JAKE
(With confusion)
Uh, what the fuck?
He leans against the door, remaining stoic.
JAKE
Test connection, SALVADOR.
A metallic voice answers in monotone.
SALVADOR
Connection: good condition. One hundred millisecond delay. Three-hundred and twenty kilobyte audio connection.
JAKE looks uneasy.
JAKE
COMMANDER, what the hell are you doing? Are you ignoring me?
JAKE waits a moment. The wind stops. He looks around. No one is in sight.
JAKE runs at full speed due west along the LAKE’s coast.
JAKE
Oh my god… SALVADOR, condition of the COMMANDER.
SALVADOR
Condition unknown.
JAKE
(Hopefully)
Please, please, please…
JAKE runs as fast and as far as he can, but the earth itself does as well. Trees swim through the ground like fish in water. The dirt kicks itself up, and JAKE closes his eyes to shield himself.
It takes a minute or two for him to realize he's trapped here.
JAKE
Wait, wha…
JAKE bends, panting. JAKE looks to the horizon with their hand over their eyes, inspecting.
JAKE’s anger turns to fear.
JAKE
Wait, no, wait, what the fuck… I was just—
The COMMANDER comes back.
COMMANDER
I see you’ve just arrived at the LAKE.
JAKE grabs at their earpiece. They wince at the subsequent shock.
COMMANDER
What’re you doing, trying to grab at the earpiece? You should know better than that.
JAKE
Where?
The COMMANDER breathes, and does not reply for a moment.
COMMANDER
… The path. I've told you this 4 goddamn times. This will be your last command.
JAKE
(Disbelievingly)
Sir, there’s no land there! You said a minute ago—
COMMANDER
(Forcefully)
Did I stutter? Continue—we have not been able to acquire footage past this point. You'll be the first D-Class to transmit audiovisual information of 4012.
JAKE
Uh…
JAKE walks to the BOAT. Its windshorn paint fades as he approaches. It turns white as baptismal robes.
JAKE
COMMANDER, do I use the BOAT to advance forward?
COMMANDER
Yes. And do it quickly, my shift is going to end shortly. A new COMMANDER'll take over.
JAKE begins to untie the two iron chains which bound it to the dock. He manipulates them effortlessly, the chains folding in upon themselves to free the BOAT.
JAKE stops just before he releases the BOAT.
JAKE
Who is this new COMMANDER?
COMMANDER
The name is COMMANDER, and they have a COMMANDER voice and a COMMANDER patience for discipline. I recommend you do not speak at all with the COMMANDER.
The words are chopped, clipped in their nature; JAKE does not acknowledge this.
JAKE
Alright… COMMANDER, COMMANDER…
COMMANDER
Are you going to take that step, DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE?
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE
What am I going to see out there, COMMANDER?
COMMANDER
(Wistfully)
Sunny skies and cloud-clear lines, DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE.
Wind whips through the theater. DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE unties the BOAT, and the chain rattles. The BOAT drifts. DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE jumps into it, stumbling and unsteady.
The HOUSE-LIGHTS dim.
END SCENE.
ACT ONE, SCENE TWO
800 words.
EXT. LAKE. - DARK DUSK.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE is hunched over, rowing the BOAT on a platinum lake with all its might. It knows it cannot stop rowing. Its face is contorted, its neck chiseled in the greatest effort. Its eyes are closed so that the sweat cannot enter them. Around it are a variety of flying things. It is close to the CABIN whence it came.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE
COMMANDER, when will we get to that beautiful plastic place?
The COMMANDER remains silent.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE
Thank you, COMMANDER. I hope my work's good enough.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE screams, and the BOAT accelerates. There is no distinction between sweat and tears. The sound of shuffling comes from the earpiece. A few murmured voices leak through, but they are completely unintelligible.
SALVADOR
D-112, you are currently… 75 meters from the opposite coast of the body of water. Keep going, you can do this!
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE almost stops rowing, trying and failing to take a slight break. Its skin runs red.
SALVADOR
Motion has been detected. Disciplinary measures may be applied by your COMMANDER as seen fit.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE looks at the sky.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE takes off its earpiece and continues to row. It speaks to the air.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE
Are you there? Goddamn it.
The silence continues. DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE becomes obviously upset at it.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE leans forward. It holds the earpiece to their mouth with one hand and passively moves the paddle with the other.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE
(LOUDLY)
You coward! How long have you left me like this?
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE almost jumps forward with the power of its words.
A buzz is heard.
SALVADOR
The connection between COMMANDER and DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE has been severed for 4 hours. Would you like to reestablish the connection?
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE wears the earpiece in reverse, cleaning and inserting it into their opposing ear.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE
SALVADOR, I thought I told you not to ask me stupid questions.
SALVADOR
Attempting to establish connection…
A moment passes, and a high tone is heard from the earpiece.
JAKE is surprised. They wipe their face and clean themselves as the COMMANDER speaks, the dulcet tones of her voice as sweet as though they were a COMMANDER’s.
And they are.
COMMANDER
Wait… yes, yes!
JAKE
COMMANDER?
COMMANDER
My love, I cannot believe that it is you!
COMMANDER chuckles; a loving chuckle, just as a COMMANDER would.
JAKE
COMMANDER…
COMMANDER
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE…
JAKE
Where have you been all this time?
COMMANDER
I've been trying to reach you. I wanted to help you, to give you silver and strength. But I couldn't find you 'till now.
JAKE
(With a zen-like air)
Thank you. I… I suppose that's what I should say.
COMMANDER
(Gravely)
I suppose too.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE leans backwards and puts their hands onto the paddles.
COMMANDER
Oh, oh. Please—don’t touch that thing!
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE keeps touching the paddles.
JAKE
COMMANDER?
COMMANDER
My DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE, you mustn’t dabble with that. That is a dangerous thing to do.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE rows once. The BOAT moves three paces.
The COMMANDER shrieks.
COMMANDER
(PANICKED)
No! No, my DISPOSABLE, you can't do that — for God's sake! Do not do that again, please, my…
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE
COMMANDER?
COMMANDER
(THANKFULLY)
Oh… thank you. Thank you for listening. Stay with me. I'll save you.
JAKE
COMMANDER?
COMMANDER
Please, my JAKE… what is it that troubles you?
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE
What if I don’t want to be saved?
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE’s COMMANDER gasps for a moment then reorients herself.
COMMANDER
What could you possibly-?
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE
I think I need something more.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE looks around. Nothing but the flat lake surface.
COMMANDER
You have it with me, DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE. You have it with the story.
The voice is teary. Its words crumble together.
COMMANDER
Thestoryneedsyou.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE
(REVERENTLY)
And if something is beyond it? What then?
COMMANDER
ICANNOTGOBEYONDIT!DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVEICANNOTJOINYOUOUTSIDE.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE
I don’t think I’ll go outside…
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE begins to row. The BOAT speeds up, its velocity bleeding through the Upper and Lower Waters.
COMMANDER
ILOVEYOU.
The words are synthesized.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE rows for an interminable time. Soon, DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE hits the coast for which DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE aimed. The BOAT seems almost to tie itself as the BOAT slows, readying its next voyage.
COMMANDER
PLEASEICANNOTBEARTOSEEYOUGO.INEEDYOUMORETHANLIFENEEDSCARBON.INEEDYOUMORETHANTHESKYNEEDSITSCLOUDS.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE gets out of the BOAT with a jump. The audience follows.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE
COMMANDER, I’m sorry. But I can’t stay with you forever. I need to live.
COMMANDER
OHGOD.OHGOD.ITHINKI’MGOINGTOVOMITIFISEEYOUGOOUTTHEREONYOUROWN.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE enters the second forest, the one unseen until you are at its shore.
COMMANDER
ICAN’TSEEYOUICAN’TSEEYOUICAN’TSEEYOU
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE whistles an old tune as it strolls through the path. Around it, trees are melting in the brilliant midday orange sun. It's a beautiful day.
COMMANDER
ICAN’TSEEYOUICAN’TSEEYOUICAN’TSEEYOU
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE interrupts its whistling and responds to the old hag.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE
It’s okay, COMMANDER. I’m doing just fine out here! I promise, you don’t need to worry about me so much. What about Micheal—you should check on him, you know?
The COMMANDER screams. DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE doesn't stray. The HOUSE LIGHTS dim.
END SCENE.
ACT ONE, SCENE THREE.
800 words.
EXT. FOREST PATH - ORANGE & MIDDAY.
The audience sits in a real theater and in real, plush chairs now. They watch the play occur on a massive STAGE which stretches past their field of vision and into the horizon.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE walks down a path. Around it are hundreds of trees. Triangles are cut into their leaves. The antiseptic scent and the freshly-set plastic is overpowering.
Other paths are visible through small gaps in the foliage. There is a humanoid Cymothoa exigua and tardigrade. They are only visible for a moment, then they vanish into nothing.
Markings appear on the trees as DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE continues. They are meandering things, unknown in any tongue. They wander towards coherence as DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE ambulates.
As it continues walking, whistling to itself as it goes on, the forest begins gathering. Animals skitter about. A few birdgurgles are heard. It is serene.
The plaques begin displaying intelligible text. First, Pheonician. Then, Koine Greek. Latin. Etruscan. Franciscan Runes. Then: Old, and King’s, and modern English.
They describe the plants around them clinically, ascribing dead words to living things. The plants are not green, they display a presence of chlorophyll. The bark isn’t peeling, it is exposing the hard resin and silicone shell around the xylem and phylum.
COMMANDER
Where are you? Can you—
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE removes its earpiece. It handles it for a moment, then puts it in its back pocket.
The birdsong is deep and pulsating, a massage to the ears.
There is another.
A shape comes from the distance, and DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE freezes. It leans towards a tree, then decides against it. It runs towards the shape.
As it gets closer, it notices that the shape is humanoid, and that it has stopped. It’s scared.
The two of it stop some distance apart, enough for each to see the other.
The shape was a skinless human—red, white, and striated—with the same dimensions as DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE. It wears a blue plaid shirt and an unbuttoned brown coat over it. The coat has a pen-pocket and shoulder pads stitched onto it. A large mouth with canine teeth and a long, slender tongue that flops about takes up its whole face. Its neck is pencil-thick and its trapezius and deltoids are pronounced.
It gulps, then emits a high-pitched whine that is more technological than biological. This is its mode of speech.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE
What are you doing out here? Surely you’ve a place to go?
It screeches for a few seconds, wobbly in its pitch and volume.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE
What? Why… why would you do that?
It clicks and screeches.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE
That’s ridiculous. Look, I’m trying to go there myself.
It screams.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE
Yes I’m sure! Quite frankly, I’m not taking directions from some bitch yuppie like you. I’ve got quite the affair waiting for me, and I would not like to delay it a minute.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE
Hey… You wouldn’t mind if you gave me a couple pointers on its direction? I’m quite sure of where I should go, but I’d like to make sure.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE walks toward the MOUTH-ENTITY. It retracts its tongue into its mouth, and removes from its pen-pocket a pen.
It surveys for a bit, then rears back its head and shoots out its tongue at a nearby tree. It reels the tongue back, a piece of bark attached to it.
It envelops its thin, wiry nerves around the pen. It draws.
The map is crude but workable.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE lifts its head to the MOUTH-ENTITY, a small sign of thanks. The MOUTH-ENTITY replies with a gurgle, and starts walking again.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE continues down the path.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE has put the earpiece back on. Around it, other MOUTH-ENTITIES fly and stumble through the foliage. If they fall, they do not get up. They are variously dressed, a deluge of normative representations. It is every character you have ever seen on the TV.
Some make silent cries. One stretches their tongue out, an apparent gesture of welcoming. None ever stop; they may be incapable of that.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE taps on the earpiece, and a connection is established. It is silent.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE comes nearly to the end of the path. In front of it, far on the backstage, is a grand gate, ringed at the top with 12 gemstones. Among them is jasper, chalcedony, and jacinth.
COMMANDER
Why did you ignore us?
She is dejected, dead.
COMMANDER
Don’t you—no. I don’t think you’re the boy I knew. Not anymore.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE leaves the forest behind it. For a moment, it pauses.
COMMANDER
(GRATEFULLY, HOPEFULLY)
You, you stopped. Please, keep doing that! You don’t need to go to those gates—you can still be saved!
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE
I thought I told you a long time ago what I thought about that.
DISPOSABLE
Please, no, don’t do this to yourself! You have a home with Mic—
The HOUSE slams shut.
END SCENE.
ACT ONE, SCENE FOUR
800 words.
EXT. WALL. - AFTERNOON.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE is at the gates to his dreams. Greenery abounds. Non-white sky. There is a toll collector's station next to it. Around it are various mouth-entities that wear straw hats and gardener's gloves.
COMMANDER
I cannot leave my seat now. I cannot, DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE removes a blank business card from its breast pocket. The mouth-entity standing in the booth opens its mouth twice.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE
I enjoyed talking to you too.
The gates swing open. DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE enters, and what is beyond the barred gates is now visible. Its COMMANDER whimpers.
COMMANDER
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE, do you really hate me that much? Enough to do this to me?
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE retrieves a set of keys from its pockets, and opens the door of a black 2010 BMW X6 M.
COMMANDER
Why.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE begins to drive. The STAGE seems to expand, taking it into itself. The 2010 BMW X6 M BOAT goes 30, then 60, then 90.
It remains motionless.
COMMANDER
I remember when you were very little, DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE, you smiled.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE does not look back. It is responsible.
COMMANDER
It was a long time ago, wasn't it? I didn't feel like it was, but it went by so quicky. You learned to betray me so fucking fast.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE stops. It is at a crossroads. The left road goes upward, the right downward. Somehow, the audience is able to see both perspective clearly. The right leads off of the mountain. The left ascends into the heavens.
COMMANDER
You're going to do it again, aren't you?
COMMANDER (CONT'D)
You always liked to follow me about3, and I got angry at it. I really did. But I don't think I ever did anything untoward, anything unfair. I… I don't know what to make of this. I don't know how I can get you to stop.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE restarts the BOAT. It shifts into the ninth gear, and the BOAT begins to climb. The STAGE shifts to accommodate DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE's vertical driving.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE and the BOAT show no signs of being affected by the 85-degree incline, and the BOAT progresses as normally as if it'd been driven on a flat road.
COMMANDER
You were always my little rebellious shit.
Stomachs lurch as the seating accelerates to move upwards with the BOAT. It climbs for a long while, and it never stops speeding up.
The shifting stops; DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE shoots past the STAGE.
EXT. ROAD.
It is at an intersection with a few others, an advanced form of the old dirt path. The MOUTH-ENTITIES look wildly about and drive perfectly. Some of them carry shadows in their cars, indiscernable at this distance. All you know is that they are child-sized.
COMMANDER
JAKE. Come back to me. You can still save yourself.
The COMMANDER breathes heavy, controlled breaths for a moment. She then disconnects the line.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE removes the ear piece due to lack of stimulus.
The line reconnects.
SALVADOR
Connecting via Bluetooth to the BOAT. Please hold!
MICHEAL
(RELIEVED)
JAKE! Oh my god babe, are you alright? I, uh, I’ve been so fucking worried about you all this time! You just up-and-up-disappeared for god-knows-how-long and then these government-people came knockin’ at the door, and they were sayin’ that they’d-managed-to find you-their-coworker4 but they needed some help from me? I don’t…
His stomach drops.
MICHEAL
…Are you there?
JAKE decelerates. It is nearing the destination.
MICHEAL
Are you driving right now? What’s, what’s happening?
JAKE stares forward.
JAKE
Oh hey, Myke! I remember you from the game, man. How’ve you been?
Silence, for a moment.
MICHEAL
Jake, what the fuck is going on? What game—no, you aren't even a sporthead, I was the one trying to get you to go to that Salvador game. You—
JAKE
Yeah, that’s nice, man! Now, listen, I’m out here with this really hot chick, and she’s been telling me all night to go over to her place. She calls herself Sam. I was thinking, man, wouldn’t it be neat if you just let me crash at ‘er place for a second? She's in a good neighborhood, she's got some cute kids—bro, she's got a canal!
JAKE (CONT'D)
It’d be neat…
Micheal walks away from the phone, the audience can hear him setting it down on the counter. The earpiece still transmits audio.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE begins driving home to her place.
MICHEAL
[…] That’s not him! You’ve […] wrong guy, please fucking listen […] Best estimations. If it isn’t, then […] He’s not lost, is he? […] goes well. We have been able to put a location to him— —THEN WHY ARE YOU […] Soil, road conditions are horrible. […] Frankly, we don’t even know if it is […] GET YOUR FUCKING HANDS OFF ME! LET ME GO! YOU CAN’T LOCK ME UP IN MY FUCKING HOUSE!
And the line disconnects. DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE exits and turns left.
END SCENE.
FURTHER INFO:
333 words.
The revision we have adapted is the 1995 revision, the last one written by the original author. It was inspired by many subjects he studied later in life, with the works of William Julius Wilson, Neil Postman’s Technopoly, and Samuel G. Freedman’s Small Victories playing a major role in his later work and making appearances in this last revision in the form of a more fleshed out father-son dynamic.
He became a heavy critic of what "the early Internet and media depictions of violence trended towards." Fueled by rage he felt at seeing coverage of the 1991-92 Gulf War on daytime television, he wrote several critically-acclaimed essays both on his personal website and in any newspaper that would print them, with the sole condition that the issues containing them be free.
He wanted to spread as far as possible his belief that America would lose its spirit to digital commodification and escapism. His initial theories of collectivization of thought by social pressure and widespread governmental propaganda seemed flawed, and he believed that the Internet and the culture it would bring would finally be the device with which human liberty was diminished.
Whether that has happened, is, of course, up to interpretation. He would cringe at social media and the rapidfire pace of thought now—he famously wrote a great deal on “intellectual bubblegum” and its detrimental effect on the collective attention span—but he might also praise corporations for having removed power over people from the government now, not realizing that his training to be skeptical of legal organizations would now have to be liberally applied to corporate entities.
Whatever he would think of the situation now, we can all agree on one thing; it is a goddamned shame that he is not around to give us more of his thoughts on the matter. The closest thing we have now is from 1995. That is why we have adapted that revision—it is the closest thing we have to a relevant and recognizable LordStonefish book.
ACT TWO, SCENE ONE
800 words.
INT. HOUSE.
A wife-entity awaits DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE. DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE remains stoic as it's hugged by her.
The COMMANDER's breathing staggers. She barely avoids vomiting.
To DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE's front is a standard American High-Ceiling living room. It stretches fifteen feet above DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE's head.
A rug is at its center, and the rug is ringed with blue couches. A very small mouth-entity lays on the rug, bouncing a Walmart-branded ball. A teenaged mouth entity sits on the couch, and holds up its hand as DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE walks in. There is no acknowledgement.
War is on the flatscreen, stage left.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE sits next to the teenaged mouth entity, and eagerly watches the images on the screen. An older mouth-entity, still oozing juice, stands in a flat desert, and great black shapes loom in the sky.
The SON-ENTITY screams at his father.
SON-ENTITY
Yeah… look at that one, I guess they’re pretty cool, ain’t they?
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE
I always thought that they were magnificent too. Look at how big that one is! How many bombs do you think go in that one?
The SON-ENTITY screams at his father.
SON-ENTITY
Not that many, hopefully. I’d say 10.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE
Maybe. I think it’s more than that. I think they’ll never run out, not if they’re from this country.
COMMANDER
(DESPAIRING)
I thought you were better than this, love.
The SON-ENTITY screams at DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE. Rage flashes on its face. It swallows and continues in a quiet, rough voice.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE
Shut the fuck up, you goddamned pussy—don’t think that simply because you’ve grown you can backtalk me now. Just enjoy it.
The teenage mouth entity stands down and sits barely on the couch. It is disinterested in the war footage; this goes unnoticed.
The wife-entity comes behind DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE. The COMMANDER is unsteady, but breaths consciously and irregularly. She is trying.
COMMANDER
Please. Don’t let her touch you. My love, are you still in there?5
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE does not so much as depress its shoulders as the wife-entity begins massaging it, high-pitched gurgling coming from her mouth as it lingers closely to its ear. She rubs her chest against his neck, a bulge growing under the dress.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE
Tonight, my dear. Tonight.
The wife-entity disengage and leans at the side of the stage, waiting.
Suddenly, the SON-ENTITY goes into a frenzy of bouncing and chirping—an aerial shot of a town is on the screen! DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE smiles. The television expands. The wife-entity exits stage left.
SON-ENTITY
No!
COMMANDER
No!
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE
Come on… I know my men can do it…
A shape like the ones before swoops over the town. It drops a small black pellet which stops just above the ground and cardboard roofs of the pastel-tinted box-homes.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE
(EXCITEDLY)
Yes! Yes! Yes! The tech worked!
Many little streams of red exit the pellet, and they seek out people in the streets, latching onto their forearms, their thighs, their spine’s base, their eyes. People run out of their homes. Peoples’ skin greys and bones slough as the blood is sucked directly out of their bodies.
The SON-ENTITY claps once as the trails retract into the bomb, and then, in a great show, it explodes—the explosion is a maroon blip that lasts less than two seconds. It is small, pathetic, and efficient. A smile tugs at DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE’s cheeks
On the TV, the buildings break. There is no more evidence the desert was ever populated.
The baby bounces the Walmart ball, glimpsing at the screen as it contracts back to its normal position. It coos.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE
I told you, you simply needed to wait for the big moment! I’m sure that you understand now, yes?
The SON-ENTITY assents.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE
Good.
A bell rings. Dinner is ready. DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE picks the baby up from the puddle of fluids on the rug, and the three of them exit stage left.
The wife-entity leaves the kitchenette into the dining room with a pot of boiling porridge. It is composed of writhing white worms.
A few of them get onto the table, their slime leaving imprints on it. The baby picks them off with her tongue, and the SON-ENTITY picks them into his plate.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE does not eat.
COMMANDER
You know you shouldn’t be here. Please, you need to wake up. My DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE, you need to wake up!
The rest eat in silence. They are voracious.
COMMANDER
Don’t. Please, don’t.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE stands and goes into the kitchenette. It staches its bowl in the fridge and wordlessly exits stage right. The teenaged-mouth-entity clicks. The wife-entity does not respond. He puts two empty plates in the sink, raises the baby, and exits stage left.
The wife-entity dumps her plate into the sink. She grabs a bottle from a medicine cabinet and takes three tablets in rapid succession. She stumbles, grabs the counter, then reorients herself. She limps as she exits stage right.
END SCENE.
ACT TWO, SCENE TWO
800 words
EXT. PARK. — CLEAR NOON.
The STAGE is covered in a luscious, impossibly well-trimmed grass, and the back has been given to the trees. Centerstage is a simple pavilion. Blackened wood are the support beams, and chewed mud is its glue. The sun shines clearly around it, making the grass almost yellow. A soft eastern wind cuts through both the STAGE and the audience, but the plants don’t move.
Under the pavilion are barely distinguishable MOUTH-ENTITIES wearing suits and DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE. He sits at one of the benches strewn under the shade. A suited mouth-entity cooks hamburgers on the grill and sets them into a plate; the rest of the MOUTH-ENTITIES dine over a substance similar to the wife-entity’s porridge, stored in large KFC chicken buckets.. DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE and his partner are audible over the din of muttering and slobbering.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE
(DREAMILY)
You know, I’m glad to be back here.
PARTNER
Parameters unclear; gratitude?
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE lets out a hearty chuckle.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE
Yes, I wouldn’t believe it either, but it seems like that decision has been rewarded tenfold. Consider: I would have never healed myself as fast as I did without it.
The PARTNER cocks his head and then goes on eating.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE
Oh, I know I would have eventually gotten back into the world of business, but it helps to be expedited, you know? With family, I’m not punished much for… ignoring whatever, but with you…
PARTNER
Goodwise understood, Twelve; half of family are deaf.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE nods wisely. PARTNER grabs a mouthful of worms from the KFC bucket and goes on.
PARTNER
Upthink! Downchance that you are negatived. Chance you are negatived? Go to real family.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE
(Slowly)
It’s always an option, isn’t it?
PARTNER
Closedthinkers unlear-ned are uncapable of goodsortwise protest.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE
But I don’t know! Are they truly unsalvageable?
PARTNER
(KNIFEFUL)
No.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE
You have to wonder though, don’t you?
PARTNER
(ANTEHATE)
Yes. We can, will, see.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE
Hey, at least I managed to tune in, didn’t I?
They both snicker at the remark. The PARTNER nods and wipes his tongue over his face.
PARTNER
Plusyes: little ability to allful understand exists.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE
I know, I know, And it was… so hard, friend, it really was.
PARTNER (CONFUSED)
Hearing?
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE
Yes! You must have had some difficulties trying to listen in the past, haven’t you?
PARTNER
Unagree.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE (CONTEMPLATIVE)
Huh… Really?
They are silent for a while. PARTNER goes to grab another KFC worm bucket, and he throws food into his maw as DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE beats rhythmically on the table and looks to the back.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE
You know, you can tell me if you have had that issue before, right? I, uhm, I’m sure you can agree.
PARTNER
Confession: I have no family.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE
I see.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE (CONT’D)
Uhm… I should count my blessings, shouldn’t I?
PARTNER
Recommended!
A pause. Some of the suited MOUTH-ENTITIES rise, salute to the west, and stack their KFC buckets on the floor by the grill. DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE bows its head over the table and almost immediately sits back up.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE
I’m quite bad at it.
PARTNER
Reattempt?
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE rises from the bench and looks to the audience.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE
I don’t know if that would be of any real use. I… I admit, I don’t think counting my blessings has done anything for me.
PARTNER shrinks back, clearly surprised.
PARTNER
Elaborate?
It hesitates for a second, then continues—reinvigorated, anxious to explain and persuade.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE
Well, do you know how it is when you come to the house and you have a bitch of a son, and your wife has to pop the pills, and you pass up the canal?
PARTNER nods.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE (CONT’D)
If you don’t know, friend, that feeling's surely anger. That is surely anger. It’s not bad, I’m not convinced of that, but it is there and it would like to take over—doesn’t it like to consume homes of wood, PARTNER?
PARTNER nods.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE (CONT’D)
It can’t be their fault that I am mute and deaf, that much is certain. But can I know that they are truly okay?
PARTNER
Doubleplussurewise!
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE shakes its head and paces in frustration. PARTNER follows it.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE
There is but one solution, one thing which compensates for my difficulty and hardness of heart. And I pray that it works, though I am mute for God.
PARTNER
Answer?
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE
(DETERMINED)
I will rise! I tell you, PARTNER, this little retreat is not enough! I need to… learn, I need to acclimate to the speech and the sounds and the burning smell of iron and plasma.
PARTNER
Curious.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE straightens its shirt with a deft motion and pats its pockets. PARTNER waits.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE
I will serve my people.
The wind dies down. DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE is the last person remaining in the shade. It steps out slowly. It looks to the sky.
END SCENE.
ACT TWO, SCENE THREE
800 words.
INT. OFFICE - COLD MORNING.
The audience looks down upon a great expanse from the comfort of lush recliners.
In all directions, stretching out to the horizon, is an open-floor-plan corporate office. Thousands of computers sit unused at the rows of dusty plastic fold-out tables which stretch beyond the audience’s view. A beanbag in the corner has three or four MOUTH-ENTITIES on it.. Footfall on the tile floor comes from everywhere—no one is visible on the STAGE.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE comes into the office from an elevator at the left side. The walls of the elevator are untaped sheetrock, the bare edges stained yellow with age and the splotches of plaster covering the nails unsanded.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE walks to a cubicle near a watercooler which has several MOUTH-ENTITES in attire similar to the PARTNER’s.
These MOUTH-ENTITIES approach it as it walks. DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE snaps its head and pays attention.
MOUTH-ENTITIES
ARE YOU EXCELLENT WITHIN YOUR ALLOTTED HOME YES I DO BELIEVE YOU ARE AND I APPRECIATE THIS VERY MUCH NOW WE MUST BEGIN TO WORK FOR WHAT YOU HAVE BEEN GIVEN OR YOU WILL BE.
A cart manifests, and the MOUTH-ENTITIES unfurl the chart within said cart to demonstrate. Its text seems to pop out, literally. On the chart is scrawled the words “TERMINATE RED MAXIMIZE GREEN.”, and a pie chart that is exactly half-red. A bar graph shows a linear downward trend.
MOUTH-ENTITIES
ENSURE TOTAL ANNIHILATION AND REMEMBER ALL THAT IS NECCESSARY IS AND YOU ARE AT OUR BEHEST AND TOTALLY GIVEN PERMISSION TO DO ALL THAT IS REMEMBERED AND REQUIRED. CONDEMN. EXPONENTIATE THIS COMMAND.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE nods. It wouldn't let down its boys on the desert front even if it wanted to.
COMMANDER
Please, DISPOSABLE, even if you don’t want to listen to me, you know this is wrong! This is not what a patriot would do, trust-
MOUTH-ENTITIES
(THERE IS A TONE THAT IS INCOMPREHENSIBLE TO HUMAN EARS.)
GO YES FORTH YOU WILL EXECUTE VERY WELL INDEED.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE removes the earpiece and places it gently upon the table. DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE gets up from its chair and begins walking down the aisle with the MOUTH-ENTITIES, its impeccable suit ready for the grand day that shall come.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE grabs a standard-issue, military-grade, vacuum-packed, antiseptic, exsanguinated stamp from its stand and returns to its cubicle.
A stack of papers manifests itself on the desk as DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE sits in the plastic fold-out chair.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE begins to sort. It stamps and separates some plastic papers. The other sets of paper are either black or white. Black papers are thrown into a stack on the floor. White papers remain on the desk.
This occurs at normal speed for a few seconds.
With a cracking sound, the speed of what occurs on the STAGE begins to increase. Those sounds are heard every few seconds as the speed of the actors doubles.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE quickly becomes an illegible blur vaguely centered in the chair, and fleshy red-and-grey-and-skin lines are traced by the MOUTH-ENTITIES that walk through the aisles. Something like a calendar is shot out of the top of the cubicle and lands behind the elevator.
Vision constricts. Pupils dilate. The young in the audience feel their hearts beat a slow, irregular rhythm. WE rise.
90 seconds pass. The work is complete, and you are dropped back into your seat. All of the lights turn off.
Nothing has changed, but all has shifted.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE was disheveled; they are now undone. The suit has a ketchup stain on it. The low haircut is now a curly thing, with bangs and hair that spills over its ears. The black paper is ash, with streaks of red running through the whole mass. The white papers remain unmarked and exactly where they were.
The glass windows are obscured by darkness, and the target has vanished from where it should have been. The only HOUSE LIGHT active on the stage is trained on DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE rises from its seat and remains itself as it walk through the aisle. It goes to the elevator; a phone has been installed. The dust is still unswept on the ground.
It uses it.
It rings.
And someone familiar at the end of the line picks up.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE
Son?
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE
Fuck, yes… I know. How long has it been?
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE
No. It couldn’t have been.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE
I remember you when you were so little you couldn’t even hold up the logs that I tried to buy from the Home Depot. It was for that little project, remember? We wanted to make a porch, and we had the men lay out the Foundation, and I had to buy way too many corded tools to make it the right way; strength and…
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE
What the fuck do you mean?
No no no no. It can’t have been that long. It can’t have been.
END SCENE.
ACT TWO, SCENE FOUR
800 words.
INT. SCHOOL - 1926.6
The graduation is an achievement for which the sun celebrates. The students it blankets deserve it. The light is yellow, golden when it's reflected right off of the glass at the far-right of stage, an extension of the school’s edifice, which peeks over the STAGE’s right barrier.
The STAGE has expanded.
It is now concrete, and a stage has been erected at the opposite end of the STAGE. This makeshift stage’s supports are visible under the thin blue tarp which covers the particleboard. The mahogany podium atop is imposing, almost as much as the two man-sized speakers which face toward the crowd at the stage’s periphery.
The crowd is of a decent size, partitioned into two sides with a walkway down the middle. There are a mixture of all MOUTH-ENTITIES, with the short, fat, and the lame among those in attendance. They sweat, and the stench of figs and stone is strong, each playing off the other. We are in nature, and it is beautiful.
COMMANDER
I'm sorry I never went to your graduation. I remember when you did, you know? When you were cryin’, asking me why I hadn’t come. I couldn’t swap shifts on time. Had to work during it. Poor thing.
COMMANDER (CONT'D)
Y'know, I didn’t care about it while I was on shift at all. I just worked and bantered with coworkers. Same as always.7
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE
It didn’t matter. You’d better not worry about that.
In a rapid event that flows over into time immeasurable, the teachers and doctors and officials make their speeches, in clipped speech and shreek screeches; the crowd grows in intensity as half-minutes pass by, until they are a crowd of screaming lunatics, all in great agreement—and a banister is unfurled at the end of the fourth official’s speech, when they’re gesturing wildly and snapping their head to the long scream which reads “LONG HAPPY AHEAD.” in scrawled, gold-flaked lettering; the MOUTH-ENTITIES take a moment to point their tongues to it, and DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE waits, a pained expression on its face. The earpiece chirps.
COMMANDER
(IN PRAYER)
I’m a horrible fucking mother. Forgive me for my sins.
The teen-mouth-entity will now receive his awards. DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE tries to speak to him over the mass. The two are equal now—it has aged over the years, and it’s begun to wrinkle, the hair now dyed jet-black.
COMMANDER
I wonder if it is best you go out there. Maybe they need you.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE
Hey.
COMMANDER
But I can’t accept that. No.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE
How have you been? Son.
Haltingly, the son speaks.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE
Ah.
It looks down at its shoes, and he stares at the stage, waiting for the obligation to pass. It keeps trying.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE
You know. I always liked you. Always thought you a good kid. Was always proud of you.
At this, the son’s head snaps up. He is angered by it, and his voice reflects this. The chirps are almost screeches in their speed.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE offers no resistance, only acceptance.
The boy is unsure as to whether he would have preferred this weakness over the fight he expected.
Tentatively, DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE approaches the SON-ENTITY. He doesn’t step away from it.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE
I know I should have done more. I think. But it’s too late to dwell on that now, don’t you think. I just want to be here while I can.
The SON-ENTITY squirms. The speaker has come off the stage. Students stream onto it. He should be with them.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE
Wait! Wait a moment!
He begins ambling out of the arrangement, and walks slowly towards the stage, watching his step as though he is over a great cavern, and it follows him.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE
Can’t you hear me? Can’t you stop for a second? Goddamn you!”
COMMANDER
(WITH GREAT HATE)
You get what you deserve, DISPOSABLE.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE seizes him. His face is relaxed and drooping. He is gone.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE
Please, you have to say something. At least forgive me, for fuck’s sake!
He continues walking, halfway to the stage, and the sun is brilliant over the people, melting them into one under its citrus chine. It stops in its tracks, it’s racking itself in loud, choked sobs.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE
“You have to forgive me, you bitch."
The stage takes the son-entity into its maw, filled with a thrashing mass of MOUTH-ENTITIES that trip and tilt around the crooked beams.
It will swallow.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE closes and opens its mouth, engulfed in panic, and moans softly.
The board breaks under the weight of the hundreds, and a loud snap resounds and bounds off the brick as they fall. A hole has been dug under the stage; it may go on forever.
Somehow, you not only see the son-entity as he falls, but feel the vertigo in your innards.
It is good.
END SCENE.
ACT TWO, SCENE FIVE
800 words.
EXT. BACKYARD. - MIDNIGHT.
The theater's roof is gone, revealing the night sky. The artificial light is obvious, the stage's spotlights clearly visible.
A swinging chair with the canopy wrenched off and placed to the side holds DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE and the toddler MOUTH-ENTITY.
The mouthpiece chirps.
SALVADOR
.4 lux detected. The stars may not be visible. Recommend decamping towards ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ if you wish to stargaze.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE
Not yet, SALVADOR. I cannot go eastward ‘till she does too.
She coos, her boisterous speech apparent through the language barrier. It beams with pride.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE
Yes! You’re thirsty, aren’t you?
She responds. It's an achievement Dad is not yet used to.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE manifests a cup of viscous green liquid, and she reaches for the top. It holds it out of reach for a few seconds, playing with her.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE
You can do it girl! Come on, just a bit higher. Just…
It lets the baby open her head and drink from the cup.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE
Yes, like that girl. I told you you could do it, didn’t I?
It watches the kid for a while. The toddler watches the "sky" above, learning from it, eyes wide with wondering.
The WIFE-ENTITY enters the stage. She sits to DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE’s side. DISPOSABLE-ONE–TWELVE looks at its wife for a while.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE
You’re quite rough today. Something off?
It squints as hard as it can and leans toward the WIFE-ENTITY.
WIFE-ENTITY
I’ve… I feel hollow without our Son. Maybe hollow is an okay word.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE
Me too. Not as though we can do anything about it though. No, nothing at all.
The WIFE-ENTITY is startled, almost jumping at the reply. For a moment, it looks at DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE.
WIFE-ENTITY
You can hear me?
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE nods. She suppresses a frown. The revelation is subsumed swiftly. The two sit in swinging silence. The baby coos intermittently.
A chair creaks in the distance, obfuscated by a digital compression algorithm.
COMMANDER
Do you know what happened to him, DISPOSABLE? You know who I’m talking about.
COMMANDER (CONT’D)
You know. He hasn’t been taking this well. I’ve heard much from him—at least, as much as I can from here. None of it’s been good.
COMMANDER (CONT’D)
(WITH MUTED DISMAY)
Anything? I beg you, Twelve, anything.
COMMANDER (CONT’D)
If nothing else, think about Myke. Maybe you don’t like me. That’s fine. I won’t grovel for forgiveness like you do. But Myke deserves it. More than either of us.
COMMANDER (CONT’D)
I haven’t left you. Don’t leave me.
He removes the earpiece and speaks quietly.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE
(CALMLY)
You don’t deserve me. You don’t deserve your fucking DISPOSABLE. Let me be. Let me live.
COMMANDER
(BEGGING)
And how can you say that? You’re not living!
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE:
I have lived longer here than I did out there. I have children. A wife. I’ve worked, for them, years. You think I’m the one that needs to live?
The COMMANDER gasps.
COMMANDER
Holy shit. Holy shit. You lived during that? That whole blur?
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE
(ASTONISHED)
What else would I have done? It’s you that failed to see how I lived. How I was. I was glad to be without you for twenty years, COMMANDER.
COMMANDER
You… how could you… what?
At this, the WIFE-ENTITY perks.
WIFE-ENTITY
20 years?
But he does not hear.
The WIFE-ENTITY clicks a bit, noticing the subdued altercation. She sees the earpiece, and her jaw shifts, opening to show her calloused tongue nervously passing through dozens of sharp teeth.
She tries to defuse. It doesn't work; it is beyond reconciliation now. It deserves only cauterization.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE rises from the chair and hands the kid to the WIFE-ENTITY. It paces swiftly around the STAGE, the WIFE-ENTITY’s jaw fixed upon it.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE
(RESENTFULLY)
Did you just forget about me? Did you go live, COMMANDER? I know for a fact you fucking didn’t, so don’t lecture me about what I do with my time.
COMMANDER
(PLEADING)
What would he say about that?
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE’s pace halts for a moment, and he speaks in a louder, lower voice.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE
(angrily)
Don’t throw mistakes at me as though you didn’t make any.
COMMANDER
I want you to remember where you came from!
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE
And what if I don’t want to? You never understand—I don’t need salvation!
The earpiece’s audio distorts.
SALVADOR
Warning! Bitrate declining! 32 kilobyte HE-AAC audio. There may be loss of detail. The connection may drop.
COMMANDER
You… in this world need you, and they should geit aferhis long time waiting fou.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE
Tell Myke he needs to move on. That I think I’ve become better. That's what matters.
COMMANDER
I’sn for the bet … chu’slaf ‘way for nothing bu’a pittance tha’wahn’ do—
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE grabs the earpiece and jams it in its pocket. It goes to the chair. A dim star emerges from the STAGE’s side, the one called the Son.
END SCENE.
FURTHER INFO:
334 words.
There are many difficulties in adapting LordStonefish’s work for the stage—Mulberry has infamously discussed his challenges after abandoning a decades-long attempt at adapting the Center of Me—and it may interest some of the more technical viewers to learn some of the tricks we have used in order to succeed in effects encoding where LordStonefish failed.
Most notable in the play is the personalization through targeted memetics recently pioneered through anlit playwrights such as M. Thulassan and Daniel Marcus. This is the largest implementation of biological markers, psychic scans, and spatial shifting this side of the anart community, and we hope that it shows through some of the scenes.
In particular, some of the largest cues can be found in the fourth scene of the play, where viewers are convinced that the stage changes orientation and expands, just as the book’s images do in that chapter. This effect, unfortunately, is only available for our younger patrons—not merely to protect the brain sand of some of our elderly patrons, but because the neural connections themselves have to be arranged such that the image in the brain is left unedited by the primary visual cortex, which then allows us to ontokinetically bend and spin the photons without image corruption. This process, of course, was one of the main delays that the project experienced—Stephanie couldn’t bear it if one of our beta viewers suffered because of this technique—but it has, we hope, resulted in a memetic image so sharp it’s as though it’s really happening in front of your eyes.
Another scene that proved difficult in visualization and construction was the final scene. The controversial 5-hour time delay that the book exacted from its readers could not be repeated in good faith by Pseudogenesis, so a compression of the events was needed. While it has resulted in a fundamentally different thing—it is not a line, but a sphere!—we believe the translation of experience to show is something our regulars will love!
Though only time 'ought to tell~
~ Vivienne Chen, Memetics Specialist
ACT THREE, SCENE ONE.
800 words.
INT. RESTAURANT. NEAR-NOON.
Blue worms wriggle about in the plate as a ray of sunlight accentuates the gold rim. DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE digs into it hungrily and stares at the two mouth-entities opposite it and its wife. They all chirp around for a bit as she scoops them into her jaws. The worms smell of roasted onion, their texture similar to a brownie’s. A current of wind pierces through the ambiance with the clarity of a clarinet and depth of a didgeridoo. In the center of the table is a little bouquet of seasoning and a menu with “Daniel’s” embossed in silver lettering.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE
You chose quite a good place, Sir. I admit, I wasn’t sure about it, but it’s… understated.
FATHER-ENTITY
Yes! Only fucking reason I came over here, you know that I wouldn’t want to deal with this dumbassed line shit unless they had it toned down.
The FATHER-ENTITY gestures to the menu as DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE leans back.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE
Well, I wouldn’t complain about a different man’s writing system, but you’re entitled to that.
The WIFE-ENTITY taps on DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE’s hand. It focuses.
WIFE-ENTITY
You… Must you be here?
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE
Oh, of course! If a man wants to have dinner, he shall have it.
The FATHER-ENTITY snickers in assent.
The two mouth-entities are older, with skin gray as DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE’s patchy hair and hardened skin. The male mouth entity wears a gold ring with stars ringing around it. The female does not, and her eye bores into DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE. She is the only mouth-entity that has an eye; it is restless and oddly faceless, though what makes it so detached and lonely is unknown.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE shifts in its seat and stops eating. It takes its elbows off the table.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE
So. It’s been quite a while since I’ve had a chance to dine with you two. How’s it gone?
The FATHER-ENTITY clicks a bit then continues its dining.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE
Ah. My condolences. And the Missus?
The mother mouth-entity begins to respond. With a gruff noise, she is silenced, and the FATHER-ENTITY answers.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE
Glad to know she’s doing well.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE’s wife speaks; DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE realizes that just in time.
WIFE-ENTITY
You know, we came here so that we could learn when you would pay your due.
The FATHER-ENTITY tenses, and his voice is notably lower.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE
My dear, I’m sure he meant to pay us back eventually. He’s a decent man.
The mother mouth-entity looks at DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE for a second, then flits away.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE
Hmm?
The mother mouth-entity does not speak. The FATHER-ENTITY does.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE
Ough. Yeah, being stiffed by a client has got to be the worst. I don’t care much for discussing work, but I’m sure I can spare some moments on the phone should you need it.
The FATHER-ENTITY nods.
The mother mouth-entity speaks, and the FATHER-ENTITY goes to speak over her. Rather than stop, she escalates. A small spat of screeches occurs, their plates clinking as they gesture a kind of violence. It’s resolved by a blow.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE
Hey, hey! I’m sure it’s not that bad! You can always settle this in the house, right?
The mother mouth-entity rapidly clicks. She pulls away from the father, but does not stand. She looks around, examining the room, and with a deft motion, the FATHER-ENTITY takes something into his hand. It goes under the table.
The mother mouth-entity recoils for a second and genuinely screams, its eye fixed on where the father’s hand might be. Then she relaxes, adopting a posture almost as docile as DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE’s.
Her eye does not flit nor focus anymore.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE wipes its mouth and discards its trash. It sips on a chalice of wine, setting it down after each sip. The light glistens off its gold-plated exterior.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE
Alright. Glad to see you two have settled. Now, I’m sure that, as you know, I’m due to retire soon.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE’s wife excitedly springs up, and chirps quickly with the FATHER-ENTITY. He responds, cutting her off after a few seconds.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE
Yeah, wasn’t done yet. Anyways, I say this because I’d like to seek your advice: What do you think is a good way to use my time afterwards? I’ve thought quite a bit about it, I must admit, and I’ve not come up with much.”
The FATHER-ENTITY screeches for a solid minute. DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE nods several times throughout, occasionally prompting him on with a “Yes, I know.”
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE
Huh. I’d never thought of it like that. Thank you—see honey, I told you your FATHER-ENTITY was a decent man! May have drunk a bit, but I knew he could fix himself.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE and the FATHER-ENTITY nod and shake hand-tongues at this.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE
I hope your retirement goes well, good sir.
They continue to discuss as the lights dim, the mother-entity docile and the WIFE-ENTITY shaking, as the curtain drops.
END SCENE.
ACT THREE, SCENE TWO
800 words.
EXT. COURTYARD. LIGHT OUT.
There is a fountain at center-stage which casts a shadow on the crowd below, the only shadow in this STAGE drenched with light. They stand on unpaved ground, where large weeds bloom and the catgrasses bundle up in plumes. The weeds expose spikes that attract a large amount of worms and flies. No one winces at their bites and scratches, though they’re plentiful.
They are in the plaza of a larger building surrounding them. It's built in the traditional Indo-Islamic style, with tiny domes and thick walls. The windows are colored nigh-randomly, with lime-green being the only obvious motif.
The sun is navy-blue, and its light dilutes to the hue of a chlorinated pool as it travels through the air. A crowd of MOUTH-ENTITIES gather under it. They all gaze upwards, holding out their tongues in a salute.
In a balcony which juts out from the building, a black-robed PRIEST-ENTITY yells. It’s hunched forward, and claws at the air vaguely and reverently as its voice booms through the space. It exhibits glossolalia. And though the voice is amplified and strong, it is drenched in echo, and the words slip away into incoherence. The sound is too distant.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE tries to pray. It prostrates itself, but cannot remain on the ground, and it rises every few seconds to keep from being trampled. Its face is scrunched, its distress obvious.
Its WIFE-ENTITY pats it on the shoulder and joins the crowd in their worship. DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE squints to hear her.
WIFE-ENTITY
This will not be how it is forever.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE trembles under the tone of the ocean of people; his wife stays at his side, simply quiet.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE
(MEEKLY)
I know. I know I should be better at this.
The WIFE-ENTITY clicks at it, giving some reassurance better left unheard. DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE sighs and kneels on the ground, looking as straight upwards as possible.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE
(Steadily)
Glory be to the Savior. Glory be to the Savior. Glory be to the Savior…
While DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE repeats the maxim, the PRIEST-ENTITY holds out its appendages, letting the viscera drip down onto the crowd. They roar. Their tongues flow towards it, and they walk to the stuff with adoration. Some join the glossolalia, letting their tongues violently shake as they speak. Others jump in the air and spit on the ground.
Most of them chant.
MOUTH-ENTITIES
PRAISE FOR THE ONE ABOVE US WHO BRINGS DOWN IN WISDOM THAT WHAT WILL SAVE US, THAT WHAT BRINGS US PEACE, THAT WHAT GLUES US TOGETHER. MAKE US AS A JAR, JOIN US WITH THE POTTER'S WHEEL AS WE JOIN YOU WITH OUR TONGUES AND SOUL.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE’s chant becomes quieter, his eyes screw shut, and the WIFE-ENTITY crouches to his level.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE
(Rapidly)
Glory beta’th saviour glory be to d’savior glory’b to the savior…
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE stops as its speech becomes incoherent. It screeches in frustration, and it pounds the ground once, rising to its feet and holding the WIFE-ENTITY near. Some mixture of self-abasement and fear lies in its eyes.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE
How do you do it, love? How do you feel the Savior entering? I've tried for so fucking long, and he runs from me in the visions! He runs!
The WIFE-ENTITY holds it. Both rock to an invisible cadence for a bit, and it takes an accidental hit from a fellow churchgoer for them to separate.8
She speaks as they move to the corner, away from the screaming and splattering.
WIFE-ENTITY
You must try harder, love. You can always try harder.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE
How do you try with love! How can you summon love? How can you make something in you that should be there! The people around me, they love and they don't need to know. I need to be like them! How else do you think I'll be in his favor, if I can't even manage to put him in mine?
She comes to his side, understanding his true worry.
The crowd almost drowns them out, but through some memetic miracle, they remain perfectly understandable, and not a word is lost.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE
So what then?
The WIFE-ENTITY approaches. It does not resist, and it begins shaking as she embraces it.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE
I didn't earn you.
The WIFE-ENTITY coos.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE
You know that doesn't matter. I wasted myself in here. I deprived him. And I did it of my own volition. I can't…
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE faces towards the audience and falls — collapses — to its knees.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE
(Tearfully)
I don't even remember your name.
Forgive me.
I can never stop asking forgiveness.
The WIFE-ENTITY touches it on the shoulders, massaging it.
Suddenly, he springs up from the ground — forcefully, passionately.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE
(With determination)
I can't stay here.
WIFE-ENTITY
Love, where do you go?
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE navigates through the crowd. The light darkens as he exits stage left.
END SCENE.
ACT THREE, SCENE THREE.
800 words.
INT. OFFICE. - DUSK.
A blank banner stretches over the top of DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE's cubicle. Ten mouth-entities accompany it. DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE smiles; one of the mouth-entities brought a cake for DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE, something to eat until they’re all full.
He returns.
PARTNER
Doubleplusnegfeel to look at DISPOSABLE exit, yes?
A couple of the MOUTH-ENTITIES nod.
PARTNER (CONT’D)
Person: Yeswise, I am negfeel, yet triumph. Triumph to look at DISPOSABLE changes.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE sighs and massages its face for a moment, expressing exhaustion.
DISPOSABLLE-ONE-TWELVE
You’re right. Damn right, PARTNER.
The PARTNER grins and flips a coin.
PARTNER
Heads. Always heads.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE
(CONTEMPTUOSLY)
Yes, I’m sure it will always go well for you.
The PARTNER continues flipping his coin as DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE turns to face the rest of the MOUTH-ENTITIES. It coughs.
THE STORY WILL PRESENTLY CONTINUE.
MOUTH-ENTITY
IT IS NOW GREAT TO EAT OFFERING! ASSUREDLY, THIS IS THE END, AND IT IS BEST TO LEARN NOW WHAT IT TASTES LIKE.
Everyone grabs glass plates from their pockets, folding them out with great ease, and they portion out the cake9.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE
I'm glad I was of use to the company, I tell you what.
The earpiece is static, but it clears out now. A chair creaks, and someone stands up.
COMMANDER
I thought you were quite pretty as a little boy. Very pretty.
She waits a moment, and he does not respond. She chuckles, and the sound of ruffling cloth is heard. Her voice quivers.
COMMANDER (CONT'D)
It hurt me that you did this to yourself. You hurt yourself, and you hurt me in the process. But I suppose you weren't meant to be in reality with me.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE finishes its cake first, and they awkwardly stand around, his thumbs in its pockets and the plate ready to be thrown away. It finds a trash can and walks to it slowly.
The mouth-entities engage in conversation around DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE. DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE listens in. The high-pitched warbling is more lucid than normal.
MOUTH-ENTITIES
THE PROFITS FOR THIS QUARTER HAS TO GONE UP OVER TWENTY PERCENT PRAISE BE TO EXALTED FOR THIS VICTORY OVER U ALSO REMEMBER THAT YOU NEVER REALLY LEAVE—NO, YOU DON’T10—NOT WITH THE WRIGGLING INSIDE OF YOU THAT SOMEHOW YOU DID SOMETHING TO YOURSELF, UNDONABLE IT CANNOT BE; WE HOPE THAT YOU HAVE A GOOD LIFE OUTSIDE OF HERE, FELLOW, AND THAT YOU THINK IT WAS WORTH IT.
She sips from a drink and sighs. She stutters and hesitates, uncertain.
COMMANDER
My… l-love, I, uhm, I hope you’re hap-py out there.
The COMMANDER pauses for a moment.
COMMANDER (CONT'D)
(Contemplative)
Uhm… what else…
COMMANDER (CONT’D)
Please, no, I… stay! I know I had something.
COMMANDER (CONT’D)
I… forgot. I suppose it wasn’t important, was it?
The COMMANDER disconnects her link to the earpiece.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE takes out the earpiece and throws it away with the roaches—they were never really its favorite, you know?—and cheers come now from the whole office, one-tone and clipped.
COWORKERS
HURRAY!
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE is grateful and walks eyes closed, smiling. At least they are grateful and comprehending.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE exits stage back. The backboard is canCollide: false. HOUSE-LIGHT value: 0.
ABSTRACTIONS UNGOOD.
The HOUSE LIGHTS return as DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE is driving down a wide stroad. It occupies the whole of the stage. The stage has expanded for it. It is cracked, weathered, 8 lanes wide, with no crossing or sidewalk. Occasionally, a big-box store connects to it, and they are the only variance in the endless, hopeless plain of red and yellowish dust.
WHITE NOISE WANTS TO BREAK THROUGH
The BMW that DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE drives is falling apart with glee, but he does not react to this. The BOAT has left, and the power goes with it.
The car does not stop working as the alternator falls from its bottom, then the oil gasket, which pours an infinite amount of oil down the road. Soon, it is completely gone, the metal bones strewn throughout the road.
DISPOSABLE-ONE-TWELVE does not drive on or in anything anymore. For the first time in years, he looks around while his momentum carries him across the asphalt. He panics as he realizes the degree of freedom which he now enjoys.
The sun is white. It hammers down on him the way a mother suffocates with love a newborn child. It wants him to approach, and the audience can hear that from the speaker behind them, breathing heavily down their necks, observing them for its nexus.
The sun and the blackened moon fight for control of the sky, and the light levels on the stage begin to fluctuate rapidly. Everything is fluctuating rapidly, even YOU, and speed is building up as the STAGE stage falls down to the floor of reality, a foundation thirstily nearing. We are all knocked off our bearings.
Before we penetrate the barrier, JAKE manifests a blank business card.
END SCENE.
ACT THREE, SCENE FOUR.
1000 words.
EXT. EXT.
JAKE is stretching towards you from across the stars, across the sand, and across the stage, his waist shrinking into nothing. His shoulder flare out and he is powerful like a miter saw, like an industrial polymer presser.
Under the covers, with the buzzing in YOUR head increasing and the static stationary, JAKE begins to spin, and he touches YOU.
JAKE
No.
He is unbig, anteLIGHTS and dancing happywise while downmoveing into strong wood. He bounds off the walls of the theater—his form strikes into the audience; none are harmed. He is a little wider than a centimeter, and he is a kilometer long, enough to scrape the stars. He is relieved;at last, he has achieved a dream. The heat of plasma and blood comes down, splattering upon YOU.
A tear in his understanding of reality pens before him as he centers himself. He makes a grab for it, a gambit uncertain in its outcome, for if he fails-
-he succeeds!—
Though he is now unclean.11
The consequences will become shortly apparent, the wretching and the TV static all-consuming.
JAKE: I need you.
YOU are lifted from your seat.
The page within which you worked turns, making a wisp of sound near your ear, and you intersect with
the line.
The intersection is an unholy marriage.
Death is certain to come for this, the cost of…12
YOU survive. Aptly, it is Miracles from God.
In the untrespassable space, a choir sings, their harmonization and oblation even viewable to the deaf ear.
There is a plane of mud there, and the people in it are dirty and nasty things—definitionally. Pigs step carefully, trying to keep themselves clean. The globules bust—for some—and they fall in. Those ones do not stop falling. And the ones left must keep walking.
In another plane, you find glass. Animals graze upon it, their faces distorted in it. They are not conventionally alive. That is obvious. YOU cannot determine what makes them dead.13 The sun is white and strikes their skin, refracting light through mist. A rainbow does not form in this place.
You must leave.
You must leave.14
You are filled with the glories of the Lord present as you leave the manifold, its surface beginning to scratch at you. A thunderbolt strikes, but it cannot conduct itself in this place (your safety is guaranteed!) At the last possible moment, JAKE aids you.
He absorbs the penance dealt for his hubris, the menacing force which sponsors him remaining unhurt.15
By the power which is vested in him, the difficulties of life unlived will be distributed;
He shall save you from the trouble of it.
But God damn you if you think that shedding stupidity is enough.
From the west, a car approaches, a family tokenized by the bastard proselytizing angered. He’s stammering as they’re arriving, and they pass him by, their progress made.16
JAKE: He was broken in 6 places when the man hit him. It’s funny now, isn’t it? That’s good, that’s progress.17
JAKE: Why do you fear all of this? It’s not outside your understanding—on the contrary, it is quite easy for you. I think you're like me, and that is okay! All it means is that when you look at it, you know it instantly. Be grateful.
JAKE:
And when you leave me tonight, leave me the knowledge I tried to make a change. Do not look at the neon, but rather at eye's light.
The HOUSE-LIGHTS activate, blasting to void artificial panes of nullvalue light. The HOUSE-LIGHTS shine blue, and he spins, contracts, faster, the plaster with which he builds his attempts at laughing drying. He spins at a great, rich speed now. He heaves, his bowels shifting to make way for his gift to the world.
Somewhere, from a trigger unseen,
that choir begins to shift tongues. The director falls to the floor, seizing. He is not strong enough to withstand the force which bears down upon him, sincerity writ large a raw, uncompromising, lividly lethal thing.18
Jake really fears.
Somewhere, a star thinks about fighting, rebelling, dancing. It
tries to get ten thousand of its family to join. They haven't time—haven’t you been busy too?
Somewhere, a tanned child grabs their headphones, and he steps outside of his home at 12:53AM. The wife-entity commands him inside. For a moment, the star’s thought speaks to him.
Mom: “Where are we? What've we done with our lives?”
In the gray theater, the black sphere drops, and an actor with the radiance of noonday snow emerges.
They
align
themselves, and the line vanishes, banished and protected within a broom closet. Damnation was inevitable.
On the Foundation, we are Secure.
they don’t know that it’s never over i hate them they said they would let me show them intellect so i could be forgiven stageleft and then they stayed silent when asked how to receive the knowledge of unfolly and unviolence and of how to avoid the madness that i know always will happen they said i could love afterwards and i wanted to give them some lemon peanuts but they hate themselves and they say hate me too I HATE YOU I FUCKING HATE YOU cuz we’re in a world of pure consumption where everything is determined by lighting and snazzy captions to be more original cuz else im finna fill a niche of mediocrity and thats worse than condemnation cuz then ill never live in a gold plastic antiseptic city matter of fact i might as well be fifty cuz I 'on see no more levity on the horizon 'less i buy some i hope you're rich cuz the machine's stitches will come off eventually. and i hope that what i wrote came eventually to your standards, pussy. bleed for me. ++++ END PLAY.