Friday's Whims of the Time Traveler 56.1: April 2010

NOTE: This is the fifth full-act play I ever wrote, at the age of twenty, while studying abroad at the University of Limerick in Ireland. While I believe it is the weakest of my plays, I am proud of some of the language in it and wanted to share it. This is Act I of the play. Enjoy.

Dialogue With A Marionette: A Play In Two Acts
by Belinda Roddie

CAST (in order of appearance)

NEMO, an Irish prophet of death

EMACIATED WOMAN, an overused symbol of Ireland

ELLEN D. GOAT, a soul collector

JONATHAN C. RAM, a soul collector

MORDREN, the daughter of the Grim Reaper

TERRY MONAGHAN, an Irish senator

NELL MONAGHAN, his wife

CHARLES HAMILTON, an Irish senator

ANNE HAMILTON, his wife

DONAL PETERS, an Irish professor and Sean’s closest friend

SEAN DOYLE, a former Irish senator

ENSEMBLE

SETTING

The Other World

Ireland

WRITER’S NOTE: All stage directions and emotions listed in this script are open for suggestion. Altering them should not decrease the caliber of the play, but they should serve as guidelines for the director and the actors. Remember, nothing is set in stone.

Act Two

Scene One – Donal’s Residence in Dublin, Three Months Later

(Lights up on the living room/kitchenette in DONAL’S home. DONAL is sitting on the couch, reading a book with the radio blaring out the latest Irish news. He takes a break to drink from a glass when he hears an interview pertaining to the latest tragedy)

RADIO. “It’s about time they stopped brushing this whole issue aside. A boy is dead because of an internal struggle, a struggle for a sense of worth. A struggle for a sense of national identity. This is not a relapse of 1970s trauma. This is not the rebellion of a generation. This is not simply a Northern Irish issue. This is a powerful, steadfast resolve to seize the impossible, a unified Ireland, a unified Irish voice when all we have is an off-pitch chorus of indulgent pleas and appeals for some sort of nationalistic ideal. It’s not happening. And it won’t happen. Not a single nationalistic culture, anyway. The whole nation’s at a tug of war, and we can’t seem to realize that – ” “Sorry, Mister O’Toole, but it seems that we are out of time for this session. Thank you for stopping by. We will be right back with more updates on the Doyle case and the continuing trial proceedings. Stay tuned for financial news in the next five minutes.”

(DONAL switches off the radio and goes back to his book. SEAN walks in, looking increasingly disheveled, gaunt, and fatigued)

DONAL. Morning. You sleep well?

SEAN. A bit.

DONAL. Feeling better?

SEAN. Sure.

DONAL. Still feverish?

SEAN. No.

DONAL. I talked to your doctor. He says it’s nothing serious. Just more anxiety. Something to do with stress and the immune system. That sort of medical babble.

SEAN. How thrilling.

DONAL. I think it’s going to clear up now that you’ve finished your testimony. I’m sure it’s been painful for you, but you’ll be fine.

SEAN. Well, that’s wishful thinking.

(He sits down in an easy chair and switches the radio back on, which goes on about the financial news. DONAL continues to read his book and sip from his glass)

SEAN. Has Morgan come by again today?

DONAL. Not yet. Were you expecting her?

SEAN. No. She just tends to show up.

DONAL. You don’t seem to mind.

SEAN. I don’t. She’s pretty determined to see me, anyway.

DONAL. You ought to be flattered.

SEAN. I don’t know how exactly to think of her yet.

(The station on the radio starts to swell with static. DONAL sighs and turns it off)

DONAL. Ruddy old thing. You’d think they’d last longer.

SEAN. Turn it back on.

DONAL. What?

SEAN. I want to listen to something. Turn it back on.

DONAL. Why?

SEAN. Just do it, Donal.

(DONAL turns the radio on and fumbles with the knob until he gets a traditional music station. As the music plays, SEAN begins to cough violently, and DONAL stands up and goes to him)

DONAL. You told me you were feeling better.

SEAN. I thought I was.

DONAL. Have you been eating? I told you, you need to eat what I bring you. And the pills. Have you been taking the pills?

SEAN. What can the pills do for me?

DONAL. I’m serious, Sean. You’re starting to scare me. You’re losing weight. It’s not healthy.

SEAN. I’m not healthy.

DONAL. Sean.

SEAN. I haven’t been healthy for a very long time.

(There is a brief silence between them before DONAL goes back to his chair and empties his glass. He retrieves his book, tries to focus on it, flips through pages and then just sets it down)

SEAN. Is it true that you can die from grief?

DONAL. You can die from neglecting your body.

SEAN. Which can be caused by grief.

DONAL. Yes, but if you take care of yourself…

SEAN. Don’t try to find a remedy for this. It’s hopeless. I’m going to die from this. And I’ll die from it soon.

DONAL. Only if you let it happen.

SEAN. (Roaring) I didn’t let this happen, Donal! Some other bastard let this happen! Someone else did this to me!

DONAL. To Michael.

SEAN. (Screaming) To me!  

DONAL. (After a beat) Good Lord, where have you gone, Sean?

SEAN. I don’t know. Why are you asking me? (Pseudo-cheerfully) Remember when we were boys, fishing in Donegal? Throwing stones at men on bicycles? Remember that? When did life finally get in the way? When did time suddenly decide we needed to stop?

DONAL. (Gets up) I’m going to get you some water. And some meds. You need to take them.

SEAN. Forget the pills.

DONAL. You need to take them. It’s for your own good. You’re in my house, you play by my rules. (He begins to exit)

SEAN. Don’t worry about me, Donal. You’re wasting your time.

DONAL. I’ll be the one to know if I’m wasting it, thank you.

(DONAL exits while SEAN leans back in his chair and closes his eyes. At this point, GOAT and RAM enter, wearing their usual business attire and carrying their briefcases. They approach SEAN, who seems to be drifting away, and exchange looks)

RAM. You’d think Mordren would be here by now.

GOAT. No shit. Damn mortal stuff.

RAM. How much longer is this supposed to take? Six more months? Another year? Two?

GOAT. Oh, geez, it better not take another year. The amount of potential souls we could be collecting right now would just multiply if we’re stuck on this assignment for too long.

RAM. Man, I can’t believe Mordren hasn’t wrapped this up yet. What’s she been doing, honestly? Cooking for him? Drinking with him? (With added disgust) Having conversation with him?

GOAT. I don’t know. But we have to follow instructions. If the Grim Reaper’s getting antsy, then everyone’s gonna get nervous.

RAM. Eesh. Not good for either of us if this falls to pieces.

(There is a knock on the door offstage. GOAT and RAM instinctively shuffle to the corner. There is another knock. Then there is the sound of a door opening, as well as footsteps, before MORDREN enters the room and sees SEAN)

MORDREN. Hey. Door was unlocked, so I thought I’d come in. Where’s Donal? Did he head off somewhere? (Looks closely at SEAN) Hey. You doing okay? (Approaches him) Hey. (Strikes his shoulder) Hey!

(She slaps SEAN’S face. He makes an incoherent interjection, like a choked sob, as he slumps forward in his chair)

MORDREN. Hey, hey. Snap out of it. You know I hate it when you’re like this. (Helps prop him up) Donal’s told me you’ve been sick. He says you haven’t been eating much.

SEAN. God, leave me alone. Just leave me alone.

(MORDREN slaps him again, and it seems to revive him a bit, but not without him breaking down. DONAL enters with the pills and a glass of water)

DONAL. Morgan!

MORDREN. Donal, he’s not doing well at all.

DONAL. I’ll handle it. Get him to sit up. Open up, big boy. (SEAN in between sobs opens his mouth as DONAL throws a pill in. He hands the water to SEAN, who reluctantly drinks it. To MORDREN) How did you get in here?

MORDREN. I tried knocking and no one answered. Your door wasn’t locked. How long has he been like this?

DONAL. This recent spell? Three days. His continual condition? Months now. (To SEAN) C’mon, let’s get you back to bed. You’re obviously not feeling well.

SEAN. I can walk on my own.

DONAL. All right, then go upstairs and lie down. I’ll be up in a bit to make sure you’re all right. Now, let’s go.

(He guides SEAN out of the living room and stands by the exit until SEAN’S footsteps fade away. As he does so, MORDREN notices RAM and GOAT in the corner and stares at them as if demanding an explanation. When DONAL turns around, she returns her attention to him)

DONAL. You know, Sean was asking about you earlier. He thought you might come back today.

MORDREN. I was worried about him.

DONAL. I figured. So did you want anything? Coffee, tea, juice?

MORDREN. No. I’m good. But thanks. (She sits down on the chair SEAN was previously in) I’m really sorry if I’m intruding. I normally tend to show up when everything’s okay.

DONAL. You’re always welcome here, Morgan. Who knows, sometimes I think you lighten Sean up occasionally. Here. (He retrieves the book and hands it to her) I’ll go see if Sean’s comfortable. You can read this if you want. I’ll be back in a few.

MORDREN. Heh, thanks. I appreciate it. (Reads the cover) Joseph O’Connor. Never read his work before.

DONAL. Star of the Sea. It’s a good one. Pius Mulvey’s a character I’ve been presenting in my lectures.

MORDREN. Pius Mulvey?

DONAL. A human shapeshifter, in every sense of the word. Specter of the ship, really. A hollow man. Really has no true identity left.

MORDREN. Huh. Interesting.

DONAL. Goes to show what happens when a man is beyond all redemption, according to some theorists. Give a shout if you need anything.

(He exits while MORDREN leans back in her chair for a bit, trying to read and ignoring RAM and GOAT. She eventually can’t take it anymore and throws the book down, standing up)

MORDREN. What’re you doing here? Did I say I needed you yet?

RAM. Your father sent us.

MORDREN. What?

GOAT. He’s expecting some more progress by now. The whole project seems to have stagnated. He’s getting worried.

RAM. Yeah, he told us he wasn’t happy with the way things are going. He’s saying you’re missing some big opportunities here.

MORDREN. There has been progress! What the Hell do you think I’ve been doing, touring the country? I’ve been here every day, trying to analyze this guy.

GOAT. But it’s been three months!

MORDREN. (Mimicking GOAT) But it’s been three months! What, are we on a schedule here? Grief doesn’t always work quickly. You saw how the man was acting. I need to feed off of that as much as I can. Then we can strike.

RAM. I don’t know, Mordren. It just seems like we’re picking away at the surface rather than digging into it.

MORDREN. Are you suggesting that I’m not doing my job properly?

RAM. No, no! It’s just my observation, I mean, I’ve been researching this guy, too, and it just seems like we’re sort of dwelling on everything rather than –

(He gets cut off as MORDREN grabs his collar and pins him down on the couch. As he struggles, GOAT tries to intervene but MORDREN whips her head around)

MORDREN. Don’t you try helping him! You hear me? I hired you two to follow my orders. You’re not my advisors, you’re my subordinates! Now, you can go back to my father’s office and let him know that everything’s under control. I’d think he’d be a little more confident in me if he trusted me with this job.

GOAT. But Mordren, the soul. We need it more than ever now, the balance is shifting…

MORDREN. (Angrily) What did I say, Goat?! What did I say?! (GOAT falls silent as MORDREN releases RAM) Now. When I need you, I will call for you. Do not try to upstage me on this. Do not try to jump in too soon. If you do, we lose everything. And that is not going to bode well for either of your careers. Got it?

(RAM scrambles off the couch nodding as GOAT nods furiously as well. MORDREN sighs and collapses onto the couch, removing her glasses and acting as if fatigued)

MORDREN. Well, now that I have you here, I may as well let you know what exactly I’ve been doing. You know one of the most important things we need is the proper bait.

RAM. The bait?

MORDREN. Yes. You see, Doyle finished his testimony for the trial against his son’s murderer about three days ago. The murderer was meant to testify yesterday. That means that we’re closer than ever to getting a verdict. Now, as far as I’m concerned, the man’s not gonna walk. The Republic has zero tolerance for the IRA.

GOAT. And where are you going with this?

MORDREN. I’m saying that if the man doesn’t get acquitted, we can’t use that as bait for Doyle. However, the stress of the entire situation, and the anticipation for the verdict, could put him exactly where we’ve wanted him all this time. He’ll begin to realize that the man’s punishment won’t bring Michael back. And he’s going to wish there was another way.

RAM. Unbelievable.

MORDREN. Yes. But necessary.

GOAT. You’re going to tempt him with his son.

MORDREN. Yes. We’re going to see how he reacts when I offer to unite him with Michael.

RAM. That…is…brilliant! Oh, my goodness, Mordren, we are so sorry for being so doubtful!

GOAT. Yeah, do you know what this means? This means we can get him to exchange his soul with the prospect of being with Michael again! And maybe his wife! We can tempt him with his wife, too!

RAM. Goat! This is it! I can taste victory like a glass of the best Sauvignon! (Inhales) Oh, man, I can smell it.

GOAT. So it smells like dust with a hint of scotch?

RAM. Sure, why not? (Laughs and hugs GOAT)

GOAT. (Leans over the couch and places a hand on MORDREN’S shoulder) You know what, I think we’ve got something here. Listen up. This soul could be even more valuable if we do this the right way.

RAM. What do you have in mind, Goat?

GOAT. Mordren said that we should tempt Doyle with uniting him with his son. Now, that doesn’t necessarily mean we bring Michael back. I mean, after all, that’d just be creepy, and you know we’re not supposed to raise the dead. No, we can tempt him with being vague enough to just say he’ll be with his son, no extra details. We get a bargain out of him…

RAM. Yes?

GOAT. We get him to sign the paperwork…

RAM. Yes?

GOAT. Well…if we can’t bring Michael back to life…how else do you think Doyle will be able to reunite with him?

RAM. Oh, geez…oh, man…that is sick, Goat.

GOAT. I know.

RAM. That is…that is just morbid. That is just so malicious.

GOAT. (Getting happier) I know.

RAM. Why the Hell didn’t I think of that?

(They begin to celebrate and talk furiously with each other, going over the strategy. The whole conversation, MORDREN has begun to take sharp breaths, bringing her hand back to her chest. As RAM and GOAT continue to talk, MORDREN begins to hyperventilate as if the pain’s intensifying. Finally, as the two collectors become louder, MORDREN screams and slumps forward, breathing harshly and still clutching her chest)

GOAT. Mordren! What’s the matter?

MORDREN. Don’t touch me. Don’t touch me. (Tries to stand but stumbles) I’m fine. Don’t touch me.

RAM. You’re fine? It’s looking like you’re having a heart attack.

MORDREN. No. No, no heart attack. Just…(makes an audible sound of pain) Donal! Donal!

GOAT. Mordren, what’re you doing?

MORDREN. (Stumbles to the easy chair) Donal! Help me! Oh, God, help me!

RAM. “Oh, God”?

GOAT. “Oh, God”?

(MORDREN utters another sharp cry and falls to her knees, clinging to the chair’s armrest, until DONAL rushes downstairs. He helps her to her feet as she tries to breathe)

DONAL. Morgan! Morgan, calm down, it’s me, I’m here.

MORDREN. Oh, God. Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God…

DONAL. Easy, easy. Relax. Breathe in. Breathe out. (MORDREN tries to do so) C’mon. Deeply. One, two…(MORDREN relaxes) Good, good.

MORDREN. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.

DONAL. No, don’t. Don’t be sorry. You just scared me is all.

MORDREN. Sorry.

DONAL. Don’t be.

MORDREN. Sor – (Cuts herself off) It’s been a while since I had this happen. Normally it’s never been this bad.

DONAL. Tell me about it. I guess Sean isn’t the only one who has anxiety attacks.

MORDREN. No, no. It’s not anxiety. It’s…it’s heart problems. I have an irregular heart rate. High blood pressure. I’ve had it ever since I was young. I try to keep it under control. Sometimes I have to skip out on lectures because I start getting dizzy. Blood rushes to my head…my lungs tighten up…my heart starts pounding…I’m not… (Slumps forward in her chair) I’m not prepared for it sometimes.

DONAL. Do you need to see a doctor?

MORDREN. No. I’ll be fine. Could you get me a glass of water? I don’t want to move just yet.

DONAL. Yeah. One second. (Goes to the fridge, pulls out a bottle of water, hands it over) I know it’s technically a bottle, but I used the last clean glass on Sean.

MORDREN. It’s fine, I’ll take it. You can go back upstairs now. I think he needs you more than I do.

DONAL. Are you sure? I don’t want to leave you alone.

MORDREN. Like I said, it comes and goes. I lapse occasionally. (When DONAL hesitates) I’ll be okay. Trust me.

DONAL. Okay. I believe you. But if you need anything…

MORDREN. I’ll give you a shout. I know.

DONAL. (Warmly) Rest up. Take it easy.

(He exits, leaving MORDREN to drink the water and relax. GOAT and RAM step slowly over to her, looking scared as well as exasperated)

GOAT. Heart problems? Heart problems? Mordren, this has nothing to do with a heart condition. Those lapses? I’m sorry, but do lapses normally make a Grim Reaper’s daughter cry out for God?

MORDREN. What the Hell do you want from me, Goat? Why don’t you try being in this body? Huh? Let’s trade places! I’ll take the briefcase!

(She jumps up and grabs the briefcase, starting a tug of war, before suddenly hyperventilating again and falling back into the chair, taking a long drink of water)

RAM. Mordren, we know what this is. This isn’t a health issue. This is an emotional issue. You’re acting like this because you’re not accustomed to human emotion!

MORDREN. It’s not like I had another choice.

RAM. Like Hell you didn’t! You could’ve gone the collector’s route! You could’ve still maintained your original form and interacted with this guy! There was nothing stopping you!

MORDREN. Oh, yes, Ram! Yes! I’ll just be a part of Doyle’s life without being human! That makes sense! Especially when he realizes, oh, I look rather ethereal to him! I look, I don’t know, somewhat otherworldly! I look like a damn ghost that he’s supposed to make a human connection with! That works! You’re freaking genius, you stupid, stupid horned bastard!

GOAT. Mordren, calm down. What if that man hears you again? What if he thinks you’re crazy?

MORDREN. I didn’t choose to be mortal because I felt like enjoying the human experience, you morons! This was necessary! Human interaction was necessary! If Doyle had just seen you two from the start, in your business suits and your briefcases and your goddamn horns…don’t you think he wouldn’t have gone insane from day one?! He’s suffering, for God’s sake! He’s grieving! If you guys came too soon, he would’ve snapped before signing away his soul! You idiots! You God forsaken idiots!

GOAT. Mordren…this is changing you. Don’t you see it? You’ve shouted God’s name more times in one day than what’s been required of you in your job. God forsaken? What about you? You’re the most forsaken of them all! I can sense every emotion coursing through you as we speak. Sadness. Fear. Anger. It’s not subtle anymore! This isn’t like you, Mordren, this is dangerous! This is crazy!

MORDREN. Shut up!

(There is a harsh silence as she continues to drink her water and hyperventilate. RAM and GOAT back away a few steps)

RAM. Mordren…hey…we’re sorry. We didn’t mean to rile you up. We’re just a bit concerned, that’s all. We don’t want anything bad to happen. We don’t want this to slip away. Right?

GOAT. Yeah.

MORDREN. …If you don’t get out of my sight in ten seconds, I’m going to throw you both out the window. And we are currently three stories up from the pavement. You understand me?

GOAT. Mordren…

MORDREN. Out. The. Window.

(RAM and GOAT exchange looks and flee, but then after a moment’s thought hide behind the counter of the kitchenette. MORDREN stands up, emptying the bottle, before lowering it and letting it simply drop to the floor)

MORDREN. What’s happening to me? Oh, God, what’s happening to me? I’m becoming irrational. I’m becoming more human every day. I can’t handle these mood swings as well as I used to. I think I need rest. Rest would be good, huh? Yes, it would. Good idea. (To the audience) You know, I remember my first day on the job. Millions of years ago. The dawn of man. I don’t remember how I was born, or how I came to be. I bet that God himself was responsible for summoning me and my father, and yet we counter him in this otherworldly war. This strange, unorthodox battle for who can have the biggest kingdom. It’s as if God made us out of clay and challenged us to a duel, like it’d be entertaining for him. And my father, when he led me out into the African landscape, where the cavemen were beginning to draw spirits on the walls…he told me, “This is our fortune. This is our treasure trove. This is where we can draw away the thing that man is just beginning to understand himself. A being within the flesh. More precious than all of the world’s gold melted together into one single, solitary lump.” And I took my first soul with such relish. I was like a ball of fire descending upon the world. I charged straight into a hunter’s chest, and he screamed for mercy. He screamed for the gods. I told him I was a god, I was here, and I would take his soul somewhere where it would be fawned over. My first soul. And I don’t even remember if he had a name. Why, God? Why must you tease me like this? Why must you watch me with that smirk on your face? Oh, you couldn’t handle it, Mordren, you say. You’re too weak, you say. Just like that man who killed my son for the sake of a few dozen souls who screamed for His crucifixion. You thought you had me, Mordren you thought you found My weakness. And instead, I found yours. Well, you found it, you old bastard. You found it.  (To the audience) Help me. Give me the strength to continue my mission. My father wouldn’t find any shred of this thing called forgiveness in his non-existent heart if I failed this task. It’ll take just a little longer, Mordren. Just a little further. And then I’ll have it. I’ll have that soul. It’ll all be all over like a bad, hallucinogen-induced dream. Like a drug. I’ll have that soul. And I’ll be stronger for it.

(As she speaks, there may be the sound of the front door opening and closing offstage. When she finishes, she lowers her head as SEAN enters, dressed plainly)

SEAN. Morgan?

MORDREN. (Looks up) Sean? I thought you were resting.

SEAN. I’m tired of lying down. I needed to move a bit. You don’t look well at all.

MORDREN. Neither do you.

SEAN. Guess we’re meant for each other.

MORDREN. Where’s Donal?

SEAN. Grocery shopping.

MORDREN. I could’ve handled the errands.

SEAN. Don’t worry about it. He told me you were having an episode. He said he’d handle it himself. (Sits down on the easy chair) C’mon. Let’s both sit down and try to relax.

MORDREN. (Sits on the couch) You certainly seem a little better than earlier.

SEAN. I’m not. It’s called a façade. Takes years of experience to do well.

MORDREN. Yeah. Guess so.

SEAN. Tell me, why are you still here?

MORDREN. What do you mean?

SEAN. I mean, why are you bothering with me? Don’t you have a job to tend to? Lectures to give? Students to enlighten?

MORDREN. It’s June.

SEAN. You don’t do summer modules?

MORDREN. No. I don’t.

SEAN. …Physics, isn’t it?

MORDREN. Yeah.

SEAN. Science.

MORDREN. Pretty much.

SEAN. Good. Teaching the important things. We need more scientists. Fewer priests.

(GOAT and RAM’S heads appear from behind the kitchenette, as this comment has caught their interest)

MORDREN. What makes you say that?

SEAN. You know, politicians from other parts of Europe like to tell me that Ireland is fifty years behind everyone else. When I was a senator, they asked me, “Senator Doyle, why don’t you do something about progression? Why doesn’t the Irish government start improving the country’s economic strategies and start becoming more and more global? There are so many technological projects you’re not working on, and your libraries aren’t adapting to new advancements, and you’re not trying hard enough to innovate the job market and blah, blah, blah…” And I wish I had told them, “Do you know why? Because we have people hindering growth instead of creating it. We have people clinging to a past instead of moving away from it.” That’s what I would have said.

MORDREN. And…you think the Catholic Church is to blame for this?

SEAN. Think? I know. Morgan, I used to believe in God.

MORDREN. Used to?

RAM AND GOAT. (In hushed, excited unison) Used to?

SEAN. You sound so surprised. It’s plain to see your faith’s never been tested. Only in my case, I’ve found that it’s completely stupid to be faithful. It’s an utter waste of time and energy that I could have spent making the country better. Maybe instead of praying to some god, I could have been resolving conflicts. Maybe I could have been dealing with diplomacy.

(He becomes upset and falls silent. MORDREN moves over to his chair)

MORDREN. Your son could have lived.

SEAN. I raised Michael here, in Dublin. I grew up on a farm myself, near the shore in Donegal. I listened to fiddles in pubs when I was nineteen years old, struggling over a university degree and downing pints from the local brewery. Dublin was an enigma to me. It had another life, a political one. And I raised my son in this city.

MORDREN. Would you have rather raised him on a farm like you were?

SEAN. Oh, yes, the very idea of a rural life was something I occasionally wish I hadn’t overlooked. Who knows, Brigit and I could have gotten married on the peninsula. We could’ve had nine children, maybe three boys and six girls. The boys would fight over who got the land. We’d be still practicing fairy lore by watching out for our cattle on May Day. We could’ve had house dances. My wife could’ve had a house wake…no. No, I wouldn’t have wanted to raise Michael there. He was an only child because Brigit couldn’t have any other children after him. So much strain for such a beautiful baby boy. For such a good, healthy young man…

MORDREN. How did Brigit die?

SEAN. Brigit?

MORDREN. If you don’t mind me asking. I heard about her after the funeral. Donal told me a bit about her, but not much. He said she was very shy, socially. That the political life was hard for her.

SEAN. She was a simple girl. I met her in Connemara, where she was running her father’s little grocery. Pretty, not beautiful. But I didn’t mind. She radiated with an energy no other girl had. She liked picnics and bike rides and sailing. She loved the sound of uileann pipes. She drank hot cider. She grew daffodils. A simple girl. A simple woman. My wife…

MORDREN. Delicate?

SEAN. Fragile. She had always had a difficult time breathing. We thought it was allergies at first. Michael got a big medical book when he was six years old and started prattling about her being asthmatic. If only. Brigit wasn’t asthmatic. She wasn’t allergic to anything. It was as if the air around her was poisoned, and it was killing her. She couldn’t breathe a hint of cigarette smoke without turning blue. I’d touch her chest and I could feel the skin expanding. She was forty when she finally agreed to go to the doctor. Michael was thirteen.

MORDREN. Cancer?

SEAN. Emphysema. A slow, slow death…I swear, something was taunting her, holding her life’s dangling thread and letting it fray bit by bit without cutting it. But I had to keep going. I had to keep going to the senate and listening to old men bicker about things that didn’t matter to me. (Emotionally) Because my Brigit was dying in her bed and my son was sitting there white-faced wondering if there was a God after all…

MORDREN. Did Michael believe in God?

SEAN. He did. Then Brigit finally died, and he hated the name God. He hated the idea. But I still dragged him to church. I took him to a large Franciscan cathedral in Dublin every Sunday. When he got older, he’d leave in the middle of the priest’s homily. He’d whisper “bullshit” in my ear and sneer at the old man in those vestments with his hands spread out like he were suffering from the stigmata and not Christ. Michael liked to joke that he was a Satanist, and it got him in trouble in school. Then he went to Cork, and he seemed to shut his ears to the very word “God.” And now I wonder…

MORDREN. Where he is now.

SEAN. Heaven. Is that really all that men could think of to make us feel better about dying? You know what we are, Morgan? You’ve know what we’ve become? We’re puppets. We’re dancing marionettes, our strings being pulled by preachers and politicians with fat fingers and stupid grins. We copy the movements they make as they mimic our voices in a high falsetto. You can see the marionettes dance everywhere you go. Heaven, Hell…it’s all a performance. The few are the actors; we are the props. Do you get what I’m trying to say?

MORDREN. I…I guess so.

SEAN. Good. Because God knows that’s what I am, and what I’ll always be to Him should He exist. Nothing but His marionette while He runs His melodrama. While He lets my son die and his father weep for the dramatic effect.

RAM. Mordren, get him. Get him. He’s wide open.

SEAN. What about you?

MORDREN. What?

SEAN. What’s your story? What’s your tragedy? I’ve lost a wife and a son. It’s tough competition. Go for it.

MORDREN. …To tell you the truth, I don’t have much of a story.

SEAN. You don’t?

GOAT. No, Mordren, no. Don’t get carried away.

MORDREN. I’ve never known what it’s like to suffer. My conditions have been…comfortable, to say the least. I have a steady job, a father who’s involved in my work in more ways than one…I have good health. Very good health.

SEAN. Is your father a professor?

MORDREN. No, no…but he does like to try to teach people. (They both force out strained laughter, then fall silent) Sean…nothing I have can compare to what you’ve suffered. I’ve heard the secrets and life stories of so many other people. More stories than you could ever imagine. I’ve sometimes been able to see straight into their souls. With you, I can’t do that. You have a purity to you I could never have. It’s almost naïve, but it’s admirable. Pure goodness.

SEAN. No.

MORDREN. I mean it. I have never met another man with such a heart, with such a soul. And…you ought to be rewarded for that. Some way, somehow.

SEAN. I don’t want any reward. I don’t want any money or fame or recognition. Don’t you get it? That’s not my priority now. (Crying) I’m a broken man. I’m alone, and I’ll be forgotten soon. It’s an existence I’m willing to have, because destiny has nothing to do with me now.

MORDREN. …What if you could get something more back?

SEAN. What do you mean?

RAM. That’s it. That’s it, Mordren! This is it! This is your moment!

MORDREN. I mean, something you want the most in the world now…you could have it, right now, right here. What would you say?

SEAN. What are you talking about?

MORDREN. Your son, Sean. What would you do to be reunited with your son?

(MORDREN has gotten more intense, which is disorienting SEAN but exciting GOAT and RAM)

SEAN. That’s…quite a forward question, isn’t it?

MORDREN. I know…but I’m curious. I want to know what you’d sacrifice to be with him again. Look at you. You may just be the most good-hearted man in the world. I think you would deserve something like this. Something beyond human imagination.

SEAN. You’re serious…aren’t you?

MORDREN. Yes.

GOAT. She’s never been more serious!

SEAN. (Hesitates, then pompously) Why, I’d sell my very soul!

MORDREN. Really?

RAM AND GOAT. Really?!

(SEAN laughs before taking MORDREN’S hand. As MORDREN has moved to kneel at the side of his chair by now, he leans forward and kisses her on the forehead. RAM and GOAT exchange terrified looks as SEAN pulls away, and MORDREN begins to breathe deeply in and out)

SEAN. The human fascination with souls. Like it’s something that can just be given away or exchanged. If the soul were real, wouldn’t it be more than that? Wouldn’t it be a part of mankind that just can’t be taken away? That’s why I will never understand religion. That’s why I don’t want to be a part of it anymore. Think about it.

MORDREN. But you’d seriously…

SEAN. Sell my soul to be with Michael again? If it were really such a commodity…I don’t know. You’ve asked a very strange question, Morgan. I thought you lectured on science.

RAM. (Hissing) Mordren…do something! Now!

MORDREN. It’s not the only thing I’m interested in.

SEAN. Oh? What else?

GOAT. Mordren? Hello? We’re right here!

MORDREN. The soul. Why do you think I asked? Who knows, maybe it is more than we like to say it is. Maybe it’s not so tangible. Then again…

SEAN. Then again…?

MORDREN. Nothing. I’m rambling.

SEAN. Lecturers are meant to ramble, aren’t they?

RAM. Mordren!

MORDREN. Sean…what do you fear the most in the world?

GOAT. Mordren!

SEAN. You want me to be honest?

MORDREN. Yes.

RAM AND GOAT. Mordren!

SEAN. Being alone.

RAM. Oh, that’s it! I am not letting another opportunity pass by!

(RAM jumps up from the kitchenette and slams his briefcase down on the counter. MORDREN and SEAN both yelp. SEAN jumps up from his chair as MORDREN scrambles off the floor, pressed against the wall)

MORDREN. What the…

SEAN. Jesus Christ! What is this?

RAM. Sean Doyle! We believe it’s the appropriate time to introduce ourselves. I’m Jonathan C. Ram, of the collection agency. And this…(GOAT appears) is Ellen D. Goat.

GOAT. Pleasure to meet you, good sir!

MORDREN. What are you doing?!

RAM. (Strides over to SEAN as he backs toward the exit and grabs his arm, and SEAN cries out as he attempts to pull away) Oh, no, please, sir, I insist that you stay! After all, I’m making a business offer! Our colleague here has done a…fairly good job of getting you in the right mood to make a bargain.

GOAT. (Opens her suitcase and pulls out a box of cigars) What’ll it be? Care for a cigar? Glass of wine? A shave?

SEAN. Morgan…do you see these two? Am I hallucinating?

(MORDREN says nothing, only staring at the two in shock and fury, as RAM pushes SEAN onto the couch and sits beside him)

RAM. Now. You’ve spilled out quite a bit to “Miss Connelly” here, but we’re going to take the burden off of her now. (To MORDREN) Thank you, dear, we’ll take care of the rest.

MORDREN. You son of a half-dead bitch!

RAM. Hey, now, don’t go harping on my mother like that. She hasn’t done anything to you.

SEAN. (To MORDREN) Is this some kind of sick joke? Is this some kind of torture you’re putting me through?

GOAT. (Puts a hand on SEAN’S shoulder, who yelps) Now, now, Mister Doyle, don’t get mad at the girl for doing her job. Father’s orders, you know.

SEAN. Father’s…orders? So cold…your hand is like ice on me…Morgan, what is this? What have you done to me?

MORDREN. Nothing! I swear to you, nothing! I didn’t want to…

RAM. Mordren, enough’s enough, all right? You’ve overdone your part of the assignment. (Smoothly) Mister Doyle…what our colleague’s done for you is make you a fairly good offer. Your worst fear is to be alone, isn’t it? To be without anyone?

GOAT. The very concept of an empty room…no voices, no eyes, no laughter. Simply you, and a TV screen, and an occasional bottle…is that what you want?

SEAN. (Shuts his eyes, rushed) Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed by Thy Name…

RAM. (Smacks SEAN’S back) Oh, but you don’t believe in God, remember? What’s he done that we can’t give back? How about being with your son? Michael? Remember?

SEAN. Leave me, foul demons…leave me in peace!

GOAT. Hey now, we’re not demons. That’s just a misconception. We’re collectors. And we’ve come for the payment.

RAM. It’s all for the boss, we like to say. And really, like you said…isn’t a soul simply be a commodity? Something that can be exchanged? So what’s a measly soul really worth when compared to something like your own son? Priorities, Mister Doyle…priorities.

MORDREN. (Having clutched her chest the whole time) Enough! Get away from him!

(She throws herself at RAM and begins to wrestle him, but RAM and GOAT subdue her and pin her to the floor. At this scuffle, SEAN screams, clutching his head, and stands up)

SEAN. Monsters! All of you! This is a nightmare! A nightmare I can’t wake up from! (To MORDREN) You…you spawn of Satan! You tempting snake! Get out of my head! Wake up, Sean! Wake up! (Screaming) Donal! I’m leaving! I’m going back to Limerick! Donal! Michael! Pack your bags! Brigit, give me a kiss goodbye! I’m going away for a long time!

(He begins to become delusional, as he screams and tries to run off. RAM and GOAT are quicker, and RAM grabs the howling SEAN)

RAM. (To MORDREN) Thanks for all the help, your Excellence.

(RAM rushes with SEAN offstage as if disappearing. MORDREN tries to go after them, but GOAT blocks the doorway)

MORDREN. What are you doing? Let me through!

GOAT. Not a chance. You want to screw up this assignment more? Just keep going. Wait until your father hears about this.

(MORDREN tries to swing at GOAT, but GOAT seizes her wrist. MORDREN reacts to it badly, shuddering and crying out)

GOAT. Feel that? No warmth. You’re just like them now. A stupid, useless mortal. It’s hopeless for you. (Lets MORDREN’S hand go) I can’t believe you’re considered my superior. Even I would know when to quit.

MORDREN. Don’t blame me. Blame my father. He was the one…

GOAT. Well, then he’s as much an idiot as you are, isn’t he? (Turns to leave) We’ll be finishing the job now. If you’d like to prove to Ram and me that you’re not completely broken, you can witness the whole thing. If not…then say hi to Judas for me.

(GOAT exits, leaving MORDREN to fall to the floor. MORDREN begins to sob harshly as the lights go out)

Scene Two – Pub in Dublin

(Lights up on NEMO at the television set again, as a pub is set up beside him with several people drinking and talking as musicians play a traditional tune. MORDREN walks in slowly, moves to the counter, and orders a drink. She sits down at a table and everything starts to blur and sounds become muddled, as the lights focus on her, NEMO, and the static)

NEMO. Do you feel Irish now?

MORDREN. No.

NEMO. Do you feel human?

MORDREN. What do you want from me?

NEMO. Well, if you consider yourself Irish now, I have to watch over you too, don’t I? (MORDREN lowers her head) I can safely say I didn’t predict this, though. Sometimes I can only see what’s straight ahead. I foretell blunt actions, not emotional decisions. You’re beginning to realize something, though. Something very important.

MORDREN. And what’s that?

NEMO. That you can’t just throw everyone into one category or one identity. This world isn’t meant to be simply a market for souls. (Stands up for the first time) You’ve read your books. You’ve done your research. “Even when they have nothing, the Irish emit a kind of happiness, a joy.” Sound familiar?

MORDREN. A quotation from Fiona Shaw.

NEMO. A superficial quotation. It glosses over the fact that Ireland is a nation based on sorrow and confusion, on death and tragedy. Sure, every country can say they’ve faced the same turmoils, but the Irish endured something very different than most. It’s no melting pot. It’s not a blend of one unified culture. It is merely a world of its own, a world of questions, that has no single recognizable identity. And the more you attempt to find one, the less likely you’ll have success in doing so.

MORDREN. I thought I’d be stronger than this.

NEMO. So did I. Haven’t you taken the souls of dying men before? Men with tears in their eyes? Men swallowed up in despair?

MORDREN. I did it from a distance. With a soft voice. With cold hands.

NEMO. And now you repeat history. It’s like we’re thousands of years back. In old Israel.

MORDREN. The crucifixion.

NEMO. Before I became a death prophet, I was a prophet of Israel. Very different line of work. I was never recognized like Jeremiah or Amos, but I had my fair share of warning the populace of their foolishness. Here, though, it’s all in the static that I sense people’s fates, and I can do nothing to warn them. I can only observe, report, say, “I told you so,” and leave it at that.

MORDREN. That’s heartwarming, thanks.

NEMO. Hmmm. “Heartwarming.” Can’t say I’m familiar with that feeling.

MORDREN. Neither was I, until recently.

NEMO. You can still do something about Sean, you know.

MORDREN. What’s that?

NEMO. Curb the attempt. Save the soul. Be shunned by your father but accepted into the mortal fold. Live a mortal live. Die a mortal death. But only God knows whether He’ll feel nice enough to send you down or up.

MORDREN. What can I do now? If anything, Goat and Ram have done the work while I’ve been sitting here in this pub.

NEMO. Not true. Would you still be here, as a mortal, if they had finished the job?

MORDREN. Of course…my father would’ve summoned me back to the Other World by now.

NEMO. And you would’ve lost your mortal form.

MORDREN. What do I do?

NEMO. Isn’t it obvious?

MORDREN. No. What do I do?

NEMO. It’s not what you want to do, Mordren, but what you will do. And what you will do is run. You will run until you reach the Limerick rain. And you won’t look back.

(MORDREN lowers her drink before running offstage. EMACIATED WOMAN appears as NEMO sits back down)

EMACIATED WOMAN. Not like you to get involved.

NEMO. I can play my old role of preaching well enough.

EMACIATED WOMAN. It’s not in your place.

NEMO. And you expect me to care?

EMACIATED WOMAN. Your passion for this country will drive you mad.

NEMO. Hmmm. An eternity of madness. Sounds appetizing.

EMACIATED WOMAN. To be insane?

NEMO. To be enlightened.

(Lights out)\

Scene Three – Doyle Residence

(Lights up on SEAN sitting on the floor center stage. RAM has taken a place in the corner, leaning against the wall and tapping his foot. GOAT is pacing back and forth, occasionally circling SEAN)

GOAT. So what’s it going to be, Doyle? More silence? More hesitation? You said it yourself: You’d sell your soul to be with your son. Isn’t that what you want? …What’s gotten you so quiet?

SEAN. I’m still waiting to wake up.

RAM. A man should know a bargain when he sees one.

GOAT. We don’t exchange a soul for a son very often, Mister Doyle. And your soul is valuable…to us, at least. What good is it for you now? It only makes you lonelier, hungrier for some form of revenge. The murderer’s going to be put in the slammer. Not good enough, is it? You’ve run away from the politics and the government. Not helping, is it? Is it?

SEAN. Why are you doing this?

GOAT. Why? Why?! Because I’m in the business! I haggle! I encourage production! I try to make a profit! That’s the thing that keeps me invigorated in my line of work. Isn’t that what you want again, Mister Doyle? Confidence? Determination?

SEAN. Not my priority at the moment.

RAM. (As GOAT becomes exasperated) Goat. Wait. (Moves from the wall) Double the deal. Give him the real goods.

GOAT. The real goods?

RAM. There’s not just his son…is there?

GOAT. Ah. Of course. The love of your life, Sean.

RAM. (Quoting from earlier) “She liked picnics and bike rides and sailing. She loved the sound of uileann pipes. She drank hot cider. She grew daffodils. A simple girl. A simple woman.”

SEAN. My wife…

RAM. Your wife. Yes. Dear, sweet Brigit. Died so soon, so before her time. But think…to be with her again, and your son. One happy family.

SEAN. Brigit…what she’d say if I told her this was happening…

GOAT. Love forgives all sins, doesn’t it, Mister Doyle? And besides, it’s not as if God’s making you this offer. Well, then, Ram…a soul for a son, a life for a wife. A happy reunion of loved ones. What you’ve wanted all this time.

(SEAN has begun to cry hopelessly, as RAM reaches into his suitcase and pulls out a pad of paper and a pen. He hands it over)

RAM. There, Mister Doyle. It’s all there for you to read. Fine print and everything. Take your time. Take some deep breaths. But know this…we can be very persuasive if you hesitate. All part of the job, isn’t it?

GOAT. Yes. Always. Well?

SEAN. This says…

RAM. Yes.

SEAN. But I thought…

GOAT. Well, we can’t just dig up their decomposing bodies, now can we? What other opportunity will you have to do this? There are no witnesses but us. There’ll be no need to feel ashamed. You’ll feel a sharp, quick pain…then it’s back to your happy family…

SEAN. I’ll do it.

RAM. What?

SEAN. I’ll do it. If only to end this. If only to end this bad dream. You can have my soul, both of you. It’s worth nothing to me now. (Begins to sign) Michael…Brigit…my darlings…only a minute longer…

(GOAT and RAM watch SEAN sign with relish, and RAM snatches up the paper once he is done)

RAM. Now that, I think we can safely say, is a solid bargain. Now, Goat, time for our side of it, if you please.

GOAT. Of course. The exchange. (Opens her briefcase and pulls out a gun) Great make. One bullet should do the trick.

(She hands it over to SEAN, whose hand shakes as he raises it to his head)

RAM. Now the curtain falls on this puppet show. Isn’t that what you said, Mister Doyle? Now there is nothing but sweet death. You will find absolute control in an endless sleep. Oh, how you will sleep, with your arms around your wife and baby boy. In complete and utter peace.

SEAN. May I say a few words?

GOAT. Absolutely. Take your time. We’ll be here.

SEAN. I…I can only hope I can be forgiven for this…if you don’t work for the devil, then I don’t know who. Just…take good care of my soul. Don’t waste it. It’s the last thing I had before my life fell to pieces.

GOAT. We’ll take very good care of it, Mister Doyle.

RAM. Only the best care in the world.

(There is a banging at the door. SEAN, having looked ready to pull the trigger, lowers the gun)

GOAT. (Rushes to SEAN) Don’t worry about it. Probably a solicitor. Go on, get it over with.

SEAN. I…

(The door bangs again)

RAM. Go on, hurry!

SEAN. I can’t.

(There is a shattering of glass)

GOAT. Do you want to see your wife and son or not?!

SEAN. Lord, forgive me!

(He raises the gun just as MORDREN charges into the room, tackling SEAN to the ground as the gun goes off just by his head. GOAT and RAM step back)

MORDREN. You bastards. You really think you would’ve gotten away with this? Sean, are you all right?

SEAN. Morgan! But I thought…

MORDREN. No. No, I’m here. I’m with you. You’re safe.

RAM. (Laughs) Mordren, Mordren, Mordren. After all those times you bopped me on the head for being a moron. You owe me big time for this.

MORDREN. Shut up, Ram! You’ll get nothing from Sean!

RAM. Oh, but I think we already have. Goat?

GOAT. Paperwork’s been signed, Mordren. Thanks to you…well, with some hindrances…we got what we wanted.

RAM. Your father will be proud.

MORDREN. No. No, I don’t believe you! There’s no way…

GOAT. Ram?

RAM. (Shows paper) Ta-da! Got his John Hancock right there. Biggest fortune yet. You, me, and Goat…we have it all now. The motherload.

MORDREN. Sean. You didn’t.

SEAN. They offered me my wife…and my son…

MORDREN. You didn’t!

SEAN. Lord, forgive me! I’m a fool!

MORDREN. (Stands up) I’d kill you if I could, both of you! I’d kill you with my bare hands!

GOAT. There she goes again. The irrationality kicks in like a drug. What’s done is done, Mordren. You can return the the Other World now and report everything to your father. Everything you’ve worked for is here, on this paper.

MORDREN. No. No!

RAM. Mordren…now you can go back. You can regain your immortality, and your senses. Nothing a day or two below can’t fix.

MORDREN. No!

GOAT. Mordren…

MORDREN. My name is Morgan. Morgan Connelly. (Becoming emotional) I’m a lecturer at UCC. I’m a postgraduate. I teach beginning physics…oh, God!

RAM. (Grabs MORDREN) Snap out of it! Leave the man! Let him finish the job! Isn’t this better for all of us, anyway? We gave him what he desired the most – peace with his family. Sure, it cost him a soul, but we got a good deal. We’ll have the balance again. I can see your father now, giving one of his rare smiles…

MORDREN. To Hell with my father.

GOAT. (After a pause) Well, I don’t think that your father will be going there any time soon, Mordren…

(MORDREN smacks GOAT and she yelps and stumbles. By this time, SEAN has stood up, pointing the gun at the group. MORDREN turns around)

MORDREN. Sean!

SEAN. Enough! Enough. It’s over now. Don’t you get it? It’s over! You came too late. You came after I already sold my soul. Just as I said I would.

MORDREN. I tempted you.

SEAN. No. You said I was a good man, with a pure heart. Perhaps that was a little too kind for a man who very easily gives everything up for the inevitable. Death works in cruel ways. It can break the greatest of men. It was rather selfish of me, wasn’t it? It was selfish enough to dilute the very soul I had.

RAM. A minor flaw, Mister Doyle. The purity of your soul cancels that out.

GOAT. Not helping, Ram.

MORDREN. Sean, please…you have a chance. Come with me.

RAM. What?!

MORDREN. Come with me. We’ll take a plane from here. We’ll be thirty thousand feet in the air with no one to reach us. We’ll go to Scotland, or France, or Spain.  Maybe the United States. Anywhere but here. But we’ll have each other. No loneliness. No pain. No sorrow.

SEAN. Morgan…Mordren, if that’s who you really are.

MORDREN. Morgan, Sean. I will always be Morgan.

SEAN. Morgan…a soul-less man has nowhere to go. (Raises the gun to his head) Here’s your side of the bargain. May I expect nothing less than what I purchased.

MORDREN. Sean, no!

SEAN. Forgive me, Morgan.

MORDREN. (Screaming) No!

(SEAN pulls the trigger and the lights dim at the sound of the gunshot. There is a scurrying of feet and the sound of static, as the lights come up slowly on MORDREN, sitting center stage, cradling SEAN’S head in her lap as NEMO and EMACIATED WOMAN look on from the television set. MORDREN has been noticeably crying)

MORDREN. It ends just like that, doesn’t it? The best of men falls like a stone in the river. Why did it come to this? Why am I here, mourning for him? Have I lost my mind? Is what he said about this drama really true? You’re taunting me, aren’t You, God? You’re saying, “I told you so, I win.” Oh, Christ, my heart. It’s pumping blood so fast into me. Blood I don’t deserve.

            You were wrong, Sean. You kept your soul up until the very end. What they got was a shadow of that soul, a shade of it, an untouchable remnant of something so much greater. All we have stolen is shadows. All we have stolen is a thin shroud of something we desired so much. And for what? Why have we taken these things and cloaked ourselves in them? Is it for our legions? For our pride? For our egos? How is it that in my most irrational episodes, I find the irrationality in everything else, even in my own father’s work?

            (To the audience) I guess you were right to doubt me. You were right to think that I would fall. And I will never get up. I will wander in this mortal coil until I shed it like an extra skin and turn to dust like the rest of them. I will live, I will weep, and I will die. (Calling out) Judas! You succumbed to the noose, but I will not be pulled by any thread. I will not dangle from a beam or a cross. As far as I’m concerned, my strings are cut, and no one may make me dance. No human, no reaper, no deity will touch me. I’m a marionette crumpled on the ground, my wooden limbs tangled in a helpless mess. I’m lost but free. I’m free. (Begins to weep) I’m free.

(Lights go out on MORDREN as she kisses SEAN’S forehead and lights go up on NEMO and EMACIATED WOMAN)

NEMO. And that’s the end to this little drama. I suppose I’ll be predicting her death at some point.

EMACIATED WOMAN. She’s an Irish woman now. Just like me.

NEMO. She may starve like you. She may become a symbol of failure. A symbol of betrayal. Just like Iscariot.

EMACIATED WOMAN. God forbid that.

NEMO. They will find her by his body. They will assume she murdered him and take her into custody. The evidence will go against that. His fingers have broken around the handle. His bone is brittle on the trigger. They will mark it a suicide. Mordren will go free.

EMACIATED WOMAN. Morgan.

NEMO. Yes. Morgan. You have work to do now, my dear. You should be doing more than hanging around an old prophet like myself. I can only entertain you for so long.

EMACIATED WOMAN. And I can only entertain the poets for so long. You know that. …Nemo?

NEMO. That is my name, isn’t it? Nemo. How unbecoming of me.

EMACIATED WOMAN. Do you ever think that Ireland will fade away? Do you think that the Irish people will die out?

NEMO. Only if they wish to.

(The static grows louder; lights go out)

END ACT TWO

The work you see here has not been edited nor altered since April of 2010.