The CTR Anthology Page 16

  Queen: Last night I had a vision that made me believe that soon our country will experience great chaos.

  King: Your visions are becoming retrospective.

  Queen: (Spitting out food as she talks) In a simultaneous vision I saw that someone had invented a new bomb which killed nothing but which caused all the water in the rivers and lakes to evaporate. The painful consequences of this were so hard to imagine that many people stopped using their imaginations.

  King: You’re making quite a pig of yourself.

  Queen: I prayed without food or water for five weeks. You should have stopped me. I almost died.

  King: In some ways that would have been preferable. I could have used your death as something to unite the country. You would have been a martyr. We could have told everyone you died praying. The only problem with that is that no one, including me, has ever known what you pray for.

  Queen: You’re inhuman.

  King: You must learn to take criticism a bit better.

  Queen: No. Look, you are growing shiny blue hairs on the back of your hands. (He looks. He is)

  King: It’s just a small lower circuit malfunction.

  Queen: Oh God. Oh God. (She chokes on a piece of food. The King appears to find this distasteful.)

  Blackout

  SCENE FOURTEEN

  (The café (and) The countryside. At the café Maria III and Raymond are standing next to the Farmer staring at him. In the countryside the Son is unloading a huge crate of books.)

  Son: For 17 days and nearly as many nights my father sat in a chair dead. Then suddenly he stood up and walked away. (Farmer stands up and walks away. Maria III and Raymond look at each other. Smile.) At first, people looked at this occurrence as a miracle and took it as a cause for celebration. (Raymond pinches Maria III’s behind. She smiles. They go inside.) Thinking that my father had risen from the dead and was now alive. Soon, however, it became known that he was still dead but that he had the ability to walk around. Nevertheless he was called a prophet and a large crowd attached themselves to him and followed him everywhere he went. (Darkness at the café. Son begins to unpack the crate.) Meanwhile I had embarked upon a program of self-education. I travelled to other countries and purchased books that were not available here. Thinking that on my return, having long ago become disillusioned with violence, I would work my way into a position to bring about the necessary changes. Unfortunately, I too became afflicted with the new national disease of (he looks around) talking to myself.

  Blackout

  SCENE FIFTEEN

  (A dark place. Maria II is addressing the hooded Terrorist and the Farmer. The Terrorist seems distracted.)

  Maria II: I have a lot of complaints to make. Are you listening?

  Terrorist: Of course.

  Maria II: First, I want to know why you still don’t trust me? I’ve committed myself to this group body and soul.

  Terrorist: I do trust you.

  Maria II: Then why do you always wear that hood?

  Terrorist: I’m very ugly.

  Maria II: Physical appearance is not important.

  Terrorist: It is to me.

  Maria II: We’ll discuss that later. In the meantime I want to know what our long range plans are? Or do we have any?

  Terrorist: We’ll discuss that later. (Looks at Farmer.) When we’re alone.

  Maria II: Oh. Who is he anyway?

  Terrorist: They say he is a prophet.

  Maria II: Who are ’they’?

  Terrorist: All the people outside. A huge crowd. Apparently they follow him everywhere he goes.

  Maria II: Interesting.

  Blackout

  SCENE SIXTEEN

  (The café. Raymond is serving Maria III a full-course dinner. Maria III is reading the local magazine. The Son is reading one of his hooks. Twenty-two seconds of silence.)

  Raymond: The terrorists have a new leader.

  Son: Perhaps now they might even decide on a plan of action.

  Raymond: Yes. Which is both good and bad.

  Son: Good because we’ll be able to finally judge their motives. Bad because it has always been obvious that their motives are selfish and now we will be forced to do something about them.

  Raymond: Those books you have been reading have done wonders for your analytical powers.

  Son: But they have also burdened me with the responsibility of knowledge.

  Raymond: Knowledge of a certain kind is more dangerous than dying in autumn.

  Son: My father used to say things like that. I never understood him.

  Raymond: But you do me?

  Son: No. But I know now that it doesn’t matter.

  Raymond: You see, Maria, what the printed word can accomplish. The boy has been reading books. He’s immune.

  Maria III: There’s an article in the magazine which says that intellectuals and urban dwellers are all expendable, and that only the farmers are of any worth.

  Son: Let me see that. (He takes the magazine from her.)

  Maria III: The quality of that magazine is falling fast. I can barely read the printing. Everything is fading away. Yes that’s right. Everything is fading away.

  Raymond: It never had that much integrity. I was once going to write a novel exposing it as a monarchist propaganda machine. Then I realized that I myself was a monarchist. One of life’s little ironies.

  Maria III: Very little.

  Raymond: Would you like some coffee with your meal?

  Maria III: Later maybe. You know, I’m very curious about where you got the money to buy me out.

  Raymond: Let’s just say that I got lucky during the counter-revolution.

  Maria III: Rumours are that you stole your soldiers’ wristwatches while they were in the shower.

  Raymond: Some day you will learn as I have to disregard all rumours except those which can be used for a good laugh. Don’t worry about it. You have money and I have a business better than writing books that are only well-respected in other countries.

  Maria III: I may have money. But I don’t have anything to do. I feel useless.

  Son: What was that?

  Maria III: I feel useless.

  Son: Yes. It’s because you live in town. The magazine might be right. I predict a new trend towards the joys of agriculture.

  Raymond: I think we should all be very wary of being tyrannized by trends.

  Son: That’s easy for you to say. You have a money-making business. And unusual physical disabilities. Your position is secure.

  Maria III: He’s right. The rest of us have to be flexible. Even though it’s more trouble than it’s worth.

  Son: I didn’t understand that. Not really. But I didn’t care.

  Maria III: (To Raymond) Actually you too should consider the possibilities of becoming flexible. They say there is a foreigner here now who is buying up everything in sight. This could gravely affect your prospects for the future.

  Raymond: Yes. There is a big difference between a person with unusual physical disabilities who owns a business and one who just sits around.

  Maria III: Especially to the tourists.

  Raymond: But why should I be worried? He can’t buy what a person does not want to sell.

  Maria III: They say this foreigner has an attitude which is impossible for the people of this country to resist.

  Raymond: Nonsense. What kind of attitude is there that is impossible to resist?

  (A Foreigner, well-dressed, walks on. Looks around the place.)

  Foreigner: This will do very nicely. I’ll take it.

  (Raymond puts his hand over his eye.)

  Blackout

  SCENE SEVENTEEN

  (King on the terrace)

  King: Is everyone listening to me? Yes, I thought so. (Smile.) You see, the national disease of talking to yourself has passed. People are now meeting in groups again and exchanging ideas. This is bound to have a positive effect in the long run. However, in the meantime, because things are worse than ever in the areas of fin
ance and political stability, I have been forced to sell our country to foreign interests, with an option to re-buy when things get better. This new development makes the question of the still impending war a very complicated one. For this reason the war has been further postponed but promises now, for reasons too abstract for you to understand, to some day be even more vicious than was originally expected. I ask you all to prepare for this in your hearts. Now here are today’s rumours. Someone has invented a bomb which kills nothing and evaporates no water but which causes people to disappear into another dimension. This is either a truly remarkable bomb or a truly remarkable rumour. Either way it shows that our people are no longer afraid to use their imaginations. Next it is said that the foreign terrorist revolutionaries acting under the advice of their new leader who is still dead but becoming quite physically attractive, have all applied for landed immigrant status. Also since my daughter has sworn never to be taken alive, her ransom-defence fund has been turned into a national endowment program for the arts. This is not a rumour. And application forms will be distributed in the town square shortly. And as to the final rumour which maintains that my wife the queen has discovered that I am not human and is seeking a divorce, I have no comment. Please. No flash bulbs or tape recorders allowed. (The King tries unsuccessfully to lick some of the blue hairs off his hands.)

  Blackout

  SCENE EIGHTEEN

  (The café. Maria II, the Terrorist, the Farmer are all writing something)

  Maria II: I don’t understand these application forms. Why are some of the questions repeated three times?

  Terrorist: Because it’s difficult to lie with any consistency.

  Maria II: I think it’s humiliating to be applying for government assistance for a revolution. And just a touch stupid as well, don’t you think?

  Terrorist: Our leader’s mind seems to work along very unusual lines. For some reason he believes if we call ourselves artists we will get enough money to allow us to carry out a campaign against artists.

  Maria II: Is that the long range plan? If so, I think it’s stupid. And embarrassing.

  Terrorist: Only in part. The campaign against artists will only be used to throw the queen into disfavour, since she has a history of mingling with them and has now transmitted a disease to the king which causes him to lick the backs of his hands in public.

  Maria II: She’s disgusting. I never liked her.

  Terrorist: Odd. On page 12 it asks who to notify in case of death.

  Maria II: Skip that one. It’s a trick. (The Farmer throws down his pen)

  Terrorist: Shush. He’s going to do something. (The Farmer stands and goes to another table. Sits down. Crosses his arms. Frowns.)

  Maria II: Well, so much for that idea. (Maria II and Terrorist rip up their forms.) I’m beginning to get a bit impatient with him.

  Terrorist: Trust him. He knows something. See. How beautiful he’s getting.

  Blackout

  SCENE NINETEEN

  (The field. Raymond, the Son.)

  Son: We live in complex times.

  Raymond: Everyone says that. But no one ever asks who is to blame …

  Son: You’re no one to talk. Since that foreigner made you sell the cafe you’ve done nothing except follow me around.

  Raymond: I’ve given up. I’ve decided to live my life vicariously through you.

  (He grabs Son’s arm. Holds it tight. Never lets go. Son begins to pace. So does Raymond.)

  Son: It doesn’t look like it’s going to be much of a life for either of us. I don’t know what to do. I can’t become a farmer again. I find it doesn’t satisfy my thirst for knowledge.

  Raymond: Can I give us some advice?

  Son: I suppose.

  Raymond: I think we should just wait.

  Son: For what?

  Raymond: Well it doesn’t matter what, does it? The next trend I suppose.

  Son: all right. Why not.

  Raymond and Son: Sit down. (They do.)

  Raymond: I miss your father.

  Son: I was just thinking that.

  Raymond: I know.

  Son: I’m not sure I like this arrangement.

  (The Foreigner comes on pulling Maria III by the hand.)

  Foreigner: Do you know this woman?

  Son: Yes. She works for me.

  Foreigner: I found her standing out in the field beside a plough. She was crying. She told me she was tired of moving around and decided to give up. Then she fell down into the manure. A minute later she awoke and stood up but wouldn’t talk.

  (Raymond and Son go over to her)

  Son: She smells terrible.

  Raymond: He said she fell into the manure.

  Foreigner: What’s wrong with her?

  Raymond and Son: She’s dead.

  Blackout

  SCENE TWENTY

  (King on the terrace, holding a thick manuscript)

  (King: The people are dying like flies. Literally. And if it keeps up the head of the church cannot be responsible for their souls. Following is the officially recommended procedure for dying in the manner of a human being. (He flips through the manuscript) Well, it goes on for pages. But in essence all it calls for is, a touch of dignity. Pass the word.

  Blackout

  SCENE TWENTY-ONE

  (The Kings apartment. The Queen is eating. The King is …)

  King: Due to difficult financial circumstances some of the people have decided to save money by merging into one soul.

  Queen: (Eating) Fascinating.

  King: What was that?

  Queen: Fascinating. And also imaginative, don’t you think?

  King: Perhaps. But for some reason I’m beginning to despise them all.

  Queen: (Eating) Fascinating. Really, merging into one soul. A few months ago it would have sounded impossible. I’m impressed.

  King: I gave them a voice. Made them answerable to their own problems and all they’ve done is create confusion. Nevertheless I don’t like these feelings of hatred. They’re causing me to have bad dreams. I miss my father.

  Queen: Not unusual. It’s the new trend. Patriarch lust.

  King: Not altogether an accurate term.

  Queen: (Eating) Perhaps you need a vacation.

  King: Perhaps I do. When are you going to stop eating?

  Queen: Never.

  King: My father would have been able to give me advice.

  Queen: Why don’t you go visit him in the forest?

  King: What was that?

  Queen: In the forest. Surely you’ve heard the rumours that he turned himself into a tree.

  King: Vicious gossip. He did no such thing. He vaporized. I was with him when it happened. The pressures of the day just got to him. It was during the time of the first impending war. People were besieging him with contradictory advice. My father began to sweat. He sweated all of one day and part of the next. And eventually he turned into steam.

  Queen: Oh yes, I know the official version. But I believe the rumours. I think he’s a tree.

  King: What kind?

  Queen: How should I know?

  King: Well, how would I recognize him?

  Queen: He’s your father.

  King: Well, if you think it’s worth a try.

  Queen: Personally, I don’t care one way or the other. My daughter is a terrorist, foreign interests are censoring my visions, the people are laughing at me, and none of my prayers ever get answered.

  King: That’s still no reason to let yourself go to pot.

  Queen: I need something new in my life. An inspiration.

  King: Don’t I inspire you?

  Queen: Not any more. You seem to lack direction.

  King: I need a vacation.

  Queen: Who will be in charge while you’re gone?

  King: You.

  Queen: No, thank you.

  Blackout

  SCENE TWENTY-TWO

  (The café: Maria II, the Terrorist, Raymond/Son, Farmer, Maria III. Farmer and Maria II have th
eir arms crossed and are getting more beautiful. Everyone else is just sitting there. A long silence.)

  Maria II: It’s getting kind of crowded here.

  (Everyone looks at her. She lights a cigar. Inhales. A long silence. Raymond coughs. Son puts a hand over his own mouth. Everyone looks at him. Everyone looks away. A long silence.)

  Blackout

  SCENE TWENTY-THREE

  (The King’s apartment. The Queen and the Foreigner. The Queen has stopped eating. She is just staring pleasantly at the Foreigner.)

  Queen: So my husband hired you to stand in for him.

  Foreigner: Just temporarily.

  Queen: What is your official position?

  Foreigner: Advisor. Strictly low-profile. Mostly day to day management.

  Queen: Odd that he would hire a foreigner.

  Foreigner: On the contrary. I’m the only one not suffering from any of the national diseases. Patriarch lust. Soul merging. Talking to yourself. Et cetera.

  Queen: The way you explain it, it seems to make sense although that might just be because I’m fascinated by you. Notice that I’ve stopped eating.

  Foreigner: I like this apartment. I like the surroundings, the furniture. Generally speaking I like everything here.

  Queen: Then you plan no changes?

  Foreigner: Oh, a few.

  Queen: Nothing major.

  Foreigner: Not really.

  Queen: Not really major?

  Foreigner: Not really.

  Queen: Have you noticed that I’ve stopped eating?

  Foreigner: I’m sure that once you were a vital and attractive woman.

  Queen: Once?

  Foreigner: Yes, once.

  Queen: Not now though?

  Foreigner: No. Not really.

  Queen: Then you plan to get rid of me?

  Foreigner: Yes. I think I do.

  Queen: But I am the queen.

  Foreigner: Not any more.

  Queen: But I can be helpful. I have visions. (He looks at her.) Not really. Not any more. No.

  (She dies. He feels her pulse. Smiles. Takes off his jacket. Starts to rearrange the furniture.)