AT RISE:
The dystopian ruins of a once great city. It is raining, because it always rains in these situations. You could call it Orwell-ian, but that would betray a deep lack of imagination.
A WOMAN enters.
WOMAN:
Food?
A futuristic SOLDIER enters.
SOLDIER:
Totalitarianism!
WOMAN:
Meek acceptance.
The soldier exits.
A MAN enters.
WOMAN:
Food?
MAN:
Fear. Distrust.
WOMAN:
Wit. Sarcasm. Glimmer of hope.
MAN:
Sandwich.
He tosses her a small parcel. The woman opens it, revealing a sandwich. She eats it.
WOMAN:
Curiosity.
MAN:
Enigma. Hint of depth.
WOMAN:
Companion.
The soldier re-enters.
SOLDIER:
Questionable authority!
He draws a gun.
MAN:
Disrespect! Rebelliousness! Troubled past!
SOLDIER:
Mindless acceptance of government!
WOMAN:
Blossoming emotion!
MAN:
Surface level disregard! Slight trace of reciprocation.
SOLDIER:
Interruption! Restatement of purpose! Metaphor!
He shoots the man.
WOMAN:
Rejection of status quo!
She throws a rock at the soldier, knocking him out.
MAN:
Dying.
WOMAN:
Love?
MAN:
Love.
He dies. She looks around.
WOMAN:
Resolve!
The rain stops. The woman looks at the man.
WOMAN:
Sandwich!
She takes a sandwich from his corpse, holds it aloft. The sun comes out.
BLACKOUT. END PLAY.
14 years ago
1 comment:
MAN:
Dying.
WOMAN:
Love?
MAN:
Love.
This is the best part of this play. The reasons are complicated, but one reason is that my cynical girlfriend would argue that the man is only expressing his love because he knows that there is no responsibility attached to the relationship, as he is clearly dying. Since he's on his way out, this isn't really a commitment. WHAT STIRRING COMMENTARY. Staufenberg masterfully bottles the human spirit once again.
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