Entrevista
A Play in Two Acts
by
dustin hansen
Copyright Janurary 2000
Cast of characters
| Man | Interviewer/Inspector. |
| Voice | Fairly loud whisper (amplified), over intercom, seemingly from everywhere and yet nowhere. |
| Woman | |
| Old Man | |
| Old Woman | |
| Inspector | Played by same actor as MAN. |
| Suspect |
Scene
An office.
Time
ACT I: Morning.
ACT II: Night.
ACT I
| AT RISE: | MAN at desk, sifting through some papers, searching for something, reading, tossing asside, searching. |
MAN (Into speaker:)
Is he here?
VOICE
Yes.
MAN
You’re sure?
VOICE
He’s here all right.
MAN
You’re sure it’s him?
VOICE
It’s him all right.
(pause)
MAN
Send him in.
VOICE
He’s on his way in.
(pause)
(WOMAN enters)
MAN
(startled , then looks at her calmly)
Yes?
WOMAN (looks around)
Hm?
MAN
What is it?
WOMAN
I’m sorry, I don’t understand the question.
MAN
What Can I Do For You.
WOMAN
Do?
MAN
What is it that you want.
WOMAN
Me? I–
MAN
Please. Take your time. I have nothing better to do.
WOMAN
I’m not sure I–
MAN
Well come back when you’re more together, eh?
WOMAN
When I’m–
MAN
Exit, please. Time is money. Or is it the other way around? I can’t recall. But either way, one can never have enough, can one. So, so long then.
WOMAN
You want me to leave? I–
MAN
Oh, the door? It’s behind you.
WOMAN
I was only just told–
MAN
That way. In the opposite direction of your present stance.
WOMAN
Oh. Well I . . .
MAN
Good morning.
WOMAN
Good morning.
(Stands still, smiling at him as though he’d just greeted her. ƒ)
MAN
Thank you.
WOMAN
Thank you.
(stands as before)
MAN
You’re welcome. Good morning.
WOMAN
Oh! . . . Oh. “Good morning” then.
(turns, slowly leaves, after looking back as if half expecting him to laugh at a joke he has played on her)
MAN (into intercom:)
Who was that?
VOICE
Who was who, sir?
MAN
That, the–Oh, it doesn’t–What’s the gag, eh? He coming in?
VOICE
He’s just come out.
MAN
What?
VOICE
He’s gone in. And he’s come out.
MAN
Out?
VOICE
Out, yes sir.
(pause)
MAN
Out–of the office?
VOICE
That’s right sir.
(pause)
MAN
That was him?
VOICE
Yes sir.
(pause)
MAN
You’re quite sure?
VOICE
Have I ever been wrong?
MAN
Well, since you mentioned it, I remember–
VOICE
Do you doubt me?
(pause)
MAN
No. No, no, I believe you. Uh . . . send him back in, then, I suppose. Would you?
VOICE
He’s on his way in.
(pause. a very old man enters–half blind)
MAN (studies him)
Yes?
OLD MAN
Eh?
MAN
What is it?
OLD MAN
Eh?
(pause)
MAN
Would you mind stepping outside for a moment?
OLD MAN
Eh?
MAN
Outside. Just step outside, just for a moment, I–
OLD MAN
Eh? Outside, di’ya say?
MAN
Yes, thanks.
OLD MAN
I thought I jus’ come in.
MAN
Oh yes, yes, you did, I know, but please, if you wouldn’t mind–
OLD MAN
You wa’me go back out again?
MAN
Yes, that’s very kind of you, thanks a bunch.
OLD MAN
(Going. Stops.)
And then come in again?
MAN
That’s right. Not–not right away, now, wait til we call you. All right?
OLD MAN
Eh?
MAN
Come Back In When We Caaall Yoooouuuu.
OLD MAN
A’right.
MAN
Thanks a bunch.
OLD MAN
I’ll wait.
MAN
Thanks.
OLD MAN
I just wait out there.
(goes)
MAN
Yes, fantastic.
(Closes door. Goes back to desk. Into intercom:)
What was that?
VOICE
That sir?
MAN
Yes that. Who was he?
VOICE
That was him sir.
MAN
Him? Who him? Him who? What him?
VOICE
The man. To see you sir. The man you called for.
MAN
That–was him?
VOICE
Yes sir. In the flesh sir.
MAN
But what about the other one?
VOICE
The other one sir?
MAN
That other bloke you just sent trolloping in here a second ago. The–oh, whatsitcalled. The transvestite, or whatever he is.
VOICE
Sorry sir?
MAN
That other man, in the dress!
VOICE
Dress sir?
MAN
Oh for christ–tell me. I want you to tell me one simple thing: What does he look like.
VOICE
Who sir?
MAN
Who?! The man.
VOICE
Which man sir?
MAN
The man, the goddamned man that I’m to see!
VOICE
Oh him sir.
MAN
Yes him.
VOICE
I couldn’t say sir.
MAN
What do you mean?
VOICE
I’ve not had the liberty sir.
MAN
The what?
VOICE
The liberty sir. Or the pleasure, as it were.
MAN
What, you mean the privilege?
VOICE
Yes sir, that’s right sir, the privilege sir.
MAN
Of seeing him you mean?
VOICE
That’s right sir, of seeing him, yes sir.
MAN
You’ve never seen him.
VOICE
Never sir.
MAN
Never laid eyes on the man.
VOICE
Not a single eye sir.
MAN
Well. Well this is . . . How do you know who to send in?
VOICE
I just press buttons sir.
MAN
Buttons!
VOICE
Buttons sir. Switches and levers and gizmos, if you will sir, and dials and knobs and buttons sir. Like t hat. And a light lights up to tell me I’ve hit the right one and that it is working.
MAN
A light.
VOICE
Yes sir.
MAN
A light lights up.
VOICE
That’s right sir. No room for error sir. Never been amiss sir.
(pause)
MAN
Well what if the buttons aren’t working?
VOICE
I’m sorry sir?
MAN
The buttons, the switches, the knobs, the “gizmos”–what if they stop working?
VOICE
That’s impossible sir.
MAN
Why is it impossible.
VOICE
The lights sir. They tell me if anything–
MAN
Right right right, the lights. I see. And what if the lights stop working?
VOICE
A little light lights up, to let me know.
MAN
Another light.
VOICE
That’s right sir.
MAN
And if those fail?
VOICE
If those fail sir?
MAN
Ye çs. That’s right. Just–you know, for the sake of argument.
VOICE
Well, if those fail, sir, then–
MAN
Let me guess. Another light lights up.
VOICE
No sir.
MAN
Really?
VOICE
No, a buzzer sounds sir.
(pause)
MAN
Well that sounds . . . Well just send him in and let’s get this over with.
VOICE
He’s on his way in sir.
(Pause. Man sits at desk, composes himself. A third person enters, a very old woman in a wheelchair, wearing furs.)
MAN (studies her)
Yes?
OLD WOMAN
(Her voice is that of a small timid child.)
Hello, Mister.
MAN
You . . . you’re here to . . .
OLD WOMAN
I’ve been waiting a very, very long time, Mister.
MAN
Yes, yes I’m sure you . . . have, I–
(Studies her further. To self:)
This is getting ridiculous.
(to woman:)
Right. Well. Right then. Why don’t you . . . have a seat, and–or, well . . . Tell ú me what it is you’ve come here about.
OLD WOMAN
(Wheels, slowly and with great effort [groaning as she does so], up to desk, stops. Pause.)
What? What was that?
MAN
What–Can–I–Do–For–You–Madam!
OLD WOMAN (covering her ears)
Are you angry?
MAN
No. I’m not angry. Not at you. And I apologize.
OLD WOMAN
You were yelling.
MAN
Yes, but not at you.
OLD WOMAN
Who were you yelling at?
MAN
I apologized. Didn’t I. Now then.
(Pause. Woman stares at him.)
What is it that you need.
OLD WOMAN
What?
MAN
Take your hands away from your ears, for God’s sake!
(OLD WOMAN begins to cry. Hands still over ears.)
No, no no stop that now. All right. I’m speaking calmly now. Calmly and quietly.
(Reaches to remove her hands. She recoils, averts eyes.)
Stop that! Let me–! . . . I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have touched you. And I apologize. However ê. We’ll get nowhere, literally nowhere until you remove your hands so that we can hear one another. Yes?
(Pause. She stares at him in fright, hands still over ears. He sighs.)
I see. O.K. Well, I’ll simply wait then. O.K. then?
(Silence. She has not removed her hands. He begins silently mouthing words, cordially and rather animatedly, smiling and gesturing, occasionally pausing for her response and then going on mouthing. Finally she removes her hands. He does not notice immediately, she stares at him, leaning in to hear and growing more afraid that she has been stricken deaf. Then he realizes she has removed her hands:)
MAN
Ah!
(She jumps back, startled.)
Wonderful! Thank you so much!
(She cowers down as far as possible in her wheelchair.)
Now then: what is it that you need.
OLD WOMAN
Me?
MAN
That’s right. You there. In the chair.
OLD WOMAN
I don Ç’t think I . . . I don’t really . . .
(Pause. She has a sudden personality change, and now speaks in a voice that fits her body:)
I’ve got my health. ‘Cept for this rheumatism. Bit hard to breathe at times. Oh ya, and my joints ache. You know. But that’s to be expected. Don’t move much ya know. Can’t keep regular for the life of me, that’s another . . . But my eye sight’s not so bad. In this eye, anyhow. They won’t let me drive a car, but I got nowheres ta go so that don’t bother me so much. My hearing’s sharp as a tack. I can hear a whisper in the next corridor if I’m inclined to, yes sir. I can hear the angels singing, and munching on the corn, that’s how sharp I am. My mind’s fit. I made sure a that. Exercise it every day regular. Fifty squat thrusts, fifty pullups, 100 pushups, . . . Oh let’s see, what else . . . My mind’ll outlive me, I always say. I’ve ˝got a kitty called Rosebud, and pots and pans to do all my cooking in, and a pot to do my duty in, and a waste paper basket for waste papers, and a nice fluffy chair to sit in and snooze in or stare in. My toilet flushes, with the flip of a handle. Faucets work, with the turn of a knob. Lights go on and off, with the flip of a switch. All in all, I’d say I’ve got everything I need. I think I’m doing just . . . fine. Compared to some people, who I’ve seen on the tele.
(silence)
MAN
So what can I do for you.
OLD WOMAN
Oh! Well I don’t know. Let’s see. . . . What is it that you do?
MAN
That’s not important.
OLD WOMAN
What was your name, I didn’t catch it.
MAN
That’s not important, ma’am. Just, tell me.
OLD WOMAN ª
Tell you?
MAN
That’s right.
OLD WOMAN
Tell you . . . ?
MAN
Tell me, yes, tell me, please.
OLD WOMAN
What shall I tell you?
MAN
Why you are here, ma’am.
(silence)
OLD WOMAN
I thought you were supposed to tell me.
MAN
Me?
OLD WOMAN
Mm hmmmm.
MAN
Who are you?
(silence)
OLD WOMAN
Aren’t you supposed to tell me?
(silence)
MAN
You know what I think?
OLD WOMAN
Me?
MAN
No no, what I think.
OLD WOMAN
Do I?
MAN
Yes. You.
OLD WOMAN
No.
MAN
Do you want to know?
OLD WOMAN
Do I want to know what?
MAN
What I think.
OLD WOMAN
Oh. Oh yes. Oh yes I would. Oh yes indeed.
MAN
I ‘think . . . that you’re impersonating yourself.
(Silence. Man nods, smiles strangely. Stares at her.)
(BLACKOUT)
(END OF ACT I)
ACT II
| AT RISE: | INSPECTOR sits at desk. SUSPECT sits in chair opposite. |
INSPECTOR
All right. Let’s go over this again.
SUSPECT
All right.
(Pause. As though snapping out of reverie:)
All what?
(pause)
INSPECTOR
All of it. From finish to finish and back again.
SUSPECT
You’re joking.
INSPECTOR
The first day.
SUSPECT
The morning?
INSPECTOR
Well we can’t have started at night. Now can we.
SUSPECT
But . . . the day does start at night.
INSPECTOR
No.
SUSPECT
Yes.
INSPECTOR
No.
SUSPECT
I say yes.
INSPECTOR
Say what you will.
SUSPECT
But–
INSPECTOR
The, “morning,” may start at night .
(pause)
SUSPECT
Impossible.
INSPECTOR
You get up.
SUSPECT
I do.
INSPECTOR
Why.
SUSPECT
It’s morning.
INSPECTOR
It is.
SUSPECT
Yes.
INSPECTOR
Positive?
(pause)
SUSPECT
Yes.
INSPECTOR
The beginning of morning, or later on.
SUSPECT
Early mid-morning, Yes, I think, right after the late night has passed.
INSPECTOR
Ah! So you had a late night then.
SUSPECT
Very late, yes.
INSPECTOR
Stayed awake. Doing what.
SUSPECT
Nothing.
INSPECTOR
What for.
SUSPECT
I don’t know.
INSPECTOR
Why.
SUSPECT
I’ve just told you, I–
INSPECTOR
Why don’t you know.
SUSPECT
It’s not in my nature to–
INSPECTOR
Tell me at once.
SUSPECT
It scarcely matters.
INSPECTOR
What.
SUSPECT X
Nothing.
INSPECTOR
Nothing?
SUSPECT
I don’t know.
(pause)
INSPECTOR
And then what.
SUSPECT
That’s just it.
INSPECTOR
What is.
SUSPECT
I get up.
INSPECTOR
No no, yes, after that.
(pause)
SUSPECT
I get up.
INSPECTOR
We’ve covered this!
SUSPECT
Yes I know. But you said–
INSPECTOR
After!
SUSPECT
You said we’d–
INSPECTOR
After!
SUSPECT
That we had to go over it all again.
INSPECTOR
We are!
SUSPECT
Well there you are.
INSPECTOR
What?–Where?
SUSPECT
I get up.
INSPECTOR
No no no, after that! You’ve already said that part!
SUSPECT
Oh yes.
INSPECTOR
Yes.
(pause)
Well? Yes?
SUSPECT
I meant to say wake up.
INSPECTOR
Ahhh.
SUSPECT
You see.
INSPECTOR
Quite.
SUSPECT
So after that, then–
INSPECTOR
You got up.
ç SUSPECT
Quite.
INSPECTOR
Quite.
(pause)
Well then.
SUSPECT
Yes?
INSPECTOR
Let us proceed.
SUSPECT
Yes.
INSPECTOR
You wake up.
SUSPECT
Right.
INSPECTOR
Then you get up.
SUSPECT
I do.
(pause)
INSPECTOR
Why.
(pause)
SUSPECT
Because I wake up.
INSPECTOR
What?
SUSPECT
Because I’ve woken up.
INSPECTOR
You’ve said that, we’ve already–
(pause)
Are you saying–Are you telling me, that–
(pause)
We’re getting nowhere. Let’s move on.
SUSPECT
All right.
INSPECTOR
After you get up. You . . . ?
SUSPECT
I . . . ?
INSPECTOR
You don’t remember?
SUSPECT
That’s it! Thank you, yes.
(pause)
INSPECTOR
What?
SUSPECT
I don’t remember.
INSPECTOR
Well, try.
SUSPECT
No no, no I don’t do that. I just, you know, get up and, and don’t remember. When I can.
INSPECTOR
When you can what.
¥ SUSPECT
Not remember.
(silence)
You follow?
INSPECTOR
No. Let’s proceed.
SUSPECT
Right.
INSPECTOR
Now what.
SUSPECT
Well, I suppose I . . . waited for it to get dark.
INSPECTOR
You’re changing your story.
SUSPECT
No–Am I? But–
INSPECTOR
That’s not what you said last time.
SUSPECT
Isn’t it?
INSPECTOR
No. On the contrary.
SUSPECT
The contrary?
INSPECTOR
Yes. You said–
SUSPECT
I remember!
INSPECTOR
Careful now.
SUSPECT
Now it’s . . .
INSPECTOR
Yes . . . ?
SUSPECT
Right, right, because . . . so then I . . . must have . . .
INSPECTOR
Out with it.
SUSPECT
I had to have . . .
INSPECTOR
I already know it all so don’t change anything.
SUSPECT (gropes mentally)
I forgot.
INSPECTOR
Right, we’ve covered that already!
SUSPECT
No no, really, I mean–
INSPECTOR
Answer! Time is–Well? Answer damn your eyes!
SUSPECT (with mirth:)
Inspector, I’ve really forgotten!
INSPECTOR
You mean . . . What–now? What you’ve–
SUSPECT
What I’ve said.
INSPECTOR
Have you?
SUSPECT
Yes!
INSPECTOR
I don’t believe you.
SUSPECT
What? Why? But–
INSPECTOR
You’re always saying that.
(pause)
SUSPECT (sadly:)
You’ll have to jog it for me.
INSPECTOR
Tedious, loathsome, tiresome, weary worthless–This game, has got to stop.
(silence)
We’re getting nowhere. Absolutely nowhere.
(pause)
SUSPECT
Yes.
(pause)
INSPECTOR
So let’s move on.
SUSPECT
All right. But–
INSPECTOR
Now then.
SUSPECT
Yes.
INSPECTOR
What?
SUSPECT
What?
INSPECTOR
Don’t do that. What did you say?
SUSPECT
When?
INSPECTOR
Just now.
SUSPECT
Nothing.
INSPECTOR
Yes you did.
SUSPECT
I said w #hat.
INSPECTOR
You did.–No, before that.
SUSPECT
What? Nothing.–Oh: yes.
INSPECTOR
Yes?
SUSPECT
Yes.
INSPECTOR
Yes what.
SUSPECT
Yes nothing. I said yes, then what.
INSPECTOR
What? No no, yes yes I know that.
SUSPECT
Oh.
INSPECTOR
But what did you mean?
SUSPECT
What?
INSPECTOR
Stop it.
SUSPECT
What did I mean when?
INSPECTOR
With your yes, you vermin.
SUSPECT
I . . . Nothing. I don’t know.
INSPECTOR
You don’t remember.
SUSPECT
No.
INSPECTOR
It was so long ago.
SUSPECT
Well, I–
INSPECTOR
Nothing. Right. Forget it. Now then.
SUSPECT
Yes.
INSPECTOR
Moving on.
SUSPECT
Onward ho.
INSPECTOR (eyes him)
What are you so excited about?
SUSPECT
What? Nothing.
INSPECTOR
You’re a suspect here, sir.
SUSPECT
Yes?
INSPECTOR
I suggest you act like one.
SUSPECT
Yes.
(forced stern face)
Yes, you’re right.
INSPECTOR
Now then.
SUSPECT
Yes.
INSPECTOR
What?–Stop it! I’m going on! Now here’s where we were: you wake up, so, you get up. Are you with me good. You get up so you try not to remember, and at this point you forgot. That is you forget. Unless–
SUSPECT
No no, still nothing. Go on.
INSPECTOR
As I thought. Now then.
SUSPECT
Yes.
INSPECTOR
(Eyes him; pause.)
Let me refresh your dogged fogged old memory: you left the house.
SUSPECT
No!
INSPECTOR
Oh but yes though.
SUSPECT
I did?
INSPECTOR
You did.
SUSPECT
I did.
INSPECTOR
You most certainly did.
SUSPECT
That’s your story?
INSPECTOR
That’s right.
SUSPECT
Why.
INSPECTOR
What?
SUSPECT
Why. Why did I–Why would I do that.
INSPECTOR
Well, if you’ll allow me to finish, I will–
SUSPECT
Yes, yes, do, by all means: let us finish.
INSPECTOR
Quite. Now then.
SUSPECT
Yes.
INSPECTOR (eyes him briefly)
You got up because you woke up. Your feet hurt. Yes?
SUSPECT
No. No, no, I feel fine, just fine. I–
INSPECTOR
Then! Then! Your feet hurt THEN!
SUSPECT
Oh. Yes, you’re probably right.
INSPECTOR
There’s no probably about it.
SUSPECT
I’ll certainly take your word for it.
INSPECTOR
Oh you will, will you? Well you can’t, because it’s not my word, it’s yours. It’s your word. Yours! And you can’t take my word for your word, do you understand?!
(pause)
So your feet hurt so you went ~out. Yes?
SUSPECT
I don’t . . . Why.
INSPECTOR
Why what. Why did you go out, or why did your feet hurt.
SUSPECT
. . . Both.
INSPECTOR
Your feet hurt because you got up. And why you went out has already been explicated by my previous utterance. Or, utterances.
SUSPECT
It has.
INSPECTOR
Quite.
SUSPECT
But if my feet hurt, why would I–
INSPECTOR
Think, think! Listen closely, and remember so that I don’t have to go over every excruciating and tiresome detail all over once again. It hurts you to sit, yes?
SUSPECT
Ahh. Yes.
INSPECTOR
And to lie down?
SUSPECT
Yes, very much.
INSPECTOR
On stomach, back, or either of two opposite sides?
SUSPECT
Quite right.
INSPECTOR
To kneel?
SUSPECT
Agonizing. Yes.
INSPECTOR
To stand on your head?
SUSPECT
Worst of all. The blood–
INSPECTOR
I should thin µk so. And to stand in one place.
SUSPECT
Yes. It pains me for some reason.
INSPECTOR
Now we’re getting somewhere.
SUSPECT
I see. Please proceed.
INSPECTOR
I shall, with your permission. Stay with me.
SUSPECT
I’m here.
INSPECTOR
So. So it’s morning so you woke up so you got up so your feet hurt so you went out. Yes?
SUSPECT
Yes.
INSPECTOR
Now then. You go out.
(Pause. Stares at suspect as though waiting for a question or objection. Receiving none, proceeds.)
You walk. In no particular direction. For a time. And then the wind chills you. So you go back. Get your coat. Go out a second time. In no particular direction, for a somewhat shorter time until you realize you’ve no hat. You go back, and exit for the third time with
INSPECTOR (cont.)
the aforementioned object on your head. In no particular direction. You were not able to tell me, I recall, whether you walked in the » same or in a different direction the third time as the second time, or the second time as the first time; nor whether the first and third times were in the same or in different directions, differing from the second, nor what directions these might any have been. You were not able to recall.
SUSPECT
I recall.
INSPECTOR
Let me go on. Now then. You proceed, in no particular direction, as before, until your hat blows off, causing you to–although you do not retrieve your wayward hat–turn, and to proceed in the opposite direction–which, if executed properly, ought to bring you directly back again to your place of residence. However: you do not end up back at your place of residence, which leads me to conclude, inevitably, that you made a wrong turn. Inevitably. A slight miscalculation preceding, or uncoordination during, this turn, perhaps added to by the force of the gale at that moment, causes you to head in almost but slightly-not-quite ] in the opposite direction as previously, which is to say practically, with the wind.
(pause)
We were not able to ascertain, in retrospect, any knowledge of the wind’s direction on this day, or we would have a more or less accurate notion of which direction you now head–although, depending on how long and far you walk, the few degrees difference between turning slightly too far and turning slightly not far enough, might have made a devastating difference in the outcome, that is, where you end up. Which is–
SUSPECT
I remember!
INSPECTOR
Super.
SUSPECT
The bus depo.
INSPECTOR
Quite right. From which we can conclude, based on the location of said depo and the location of your place of residence, that you were in fact heading very nearly westward. Making my previous observation regarding the direction of the wind all but ir ¯relevant. However,–
SUSPECT
I remember it all quite clearly now, Inspector.
INSPECTOR
Good. I’m pleased to hear it. Glad I could be of assistance.
SUSPECT
Yes, thank you.
INSPECTOR
Now then.
SUSPECT
Yes, then I–
INSPECTOR
Then you stopped, as you had a rock in your shoe. As to who might have placed it there we are presently at a loss, although the matter is under investigation, but separately, quite separately. You do not remove–
SUSPECT
Inspector, I remember.
INSPECTOR
Yes, so you’ve said. Good, good. Now then: you do not remove–
SUSPECT
I can go on, don’t you see?
INSPECTOR
No, no, we’ll get nowhere. I’ll proceed thusly, lest your memory loss relapses. Now then. I’ll be you. Right? R ight. Now: I’m you, and I’m stopped. I do not remove the stone from my shoe, for although it pains me it does not pain me so much standing as it had walking. I am sufficiently comfortable. I needn’t move or act. I stand. I try to forget the pain, the stone. I am not quite to the depo yet, as I recall, but near, near enough to see the depo, its lights and windows and so forth. I see the depo, so I walk forward towards it–having forgotten, by this time, the stone by occupying my mind with other things, or with no thing. As I start for the depo the rock pains me once again but not sufficiently for me to stop. I bear the pain with each step until I reach the depo, where I then stop. There is a bench, with an elderly lady upon it, an empty spot next to her. But I do not sit. Nor _ do I lie, nor squat, nor kneel, for reasons earlier elucidated.
SUSPECT
You said nothing of squatting. I–
INSPECTOR
Quiet! If you keep inturrupting we’ll get nowhere! Is that where you want to get? Well is it?
(pause)
Now then: it is now the motionless upright position which causes me the least discomfort, which is not to say no discomfort. The old lady is asleep, in the sitting position, though somewhat slouched, somewhat stooped, leaning over and back, on the bench. Quite asleep. Her arm hanging limply. Her mouth drooping open and dripping drool of a yellowish hue. Her legs cramped awkwardly, one doubled up beneath her, the other sprawled out rigidly before her, with a slight twist I notice in the knee joint as though broken. At first I believe she is dead, as all signs indicate. I watch her. I study her chest and belly fo ír signs of rising or of falling. Nothing. I study her face, her brows and lips, for signs of respiration or the strains and pains and pleasures and fears of sleep. Nothing. No perceptible movement to indicate life. Also her skin is quite pale, with splotches of jaundice. Her odor, too, corroborates the hypothesis that she is indeed deceased. In order to verify, a slight more scientifically, I approach. The pain in my shoe, of the rock. I stop near her. Stand. Reach down to feel her neck for a pulse of blood when I hear her moan–a kind of groan, or wheeze, or choked wail which could be air going inwards or going outwards: I am unable to say. This last, and she has, I believe, passed on. But: perhaps: she has not in fact passed on, but simply exhibited with this death-rattle-like moan a breath–that is, one half a breath, either an intake or an output, one cannot say–which she performs ± intermittently, as a perpetually penultimate gasp exerted unconsciously every several minutes or as instructed by her suffocating placid brain. In short, she is on the verge–that is, of demise–and yet not, as it were, quite expired. And so: I . . .
SUSPECT
Yes? Go on! what then?! What do you do then?!
INSPECTOR
I . . .
SUSPECT
And don’t pretend you don’t remember because I’m on to that little trick, sir!
INSPECTOR
I . . . I . . . I . . .
SUSPECT
Out with it. You’re there. You see her clearly. You see it all clearly. You see and feel now, right this moment, exactly what you did then. You–Are–There!
(slaps the INSPECTOR across the face)
Now then. You are thinking.
(pause)
Thinking! Thinking! What are you thinking?!
(slaps him again, more viciously)
INSPECTOR
My mind’s a blank.
SUSPECT
A blank.
INSPECTOR
Yes.
SUSPECT
You ask yourself, Why? You don’t know. Ã You ask yourself, What have I done? You cannot recall. You say, Who am I? You have no idea. Who was I when I was born, and who will I be when I die? Nothing. You say, I am my mind. But no. So, I am my body. Yes? But surely no. I am my experience, my experiences, my life and how I’ve lived it. And then you say: But what on earth can that mean? You’ve no idea. You look back, and say that was me–though you’ve no clear idea of what that “that” is, or, that is to say, was. You look ahead. You say: depending on who I am now, that is–will be–who I am–or, will be. Unless I die first. But you’ve no clear picture of this “that” either. Nor do you wish to. Yet: and yet: that leaves the I. Which is what. Hm? Thoughts. Moments. Moments that are gone before they’ve begun and you in them, or they in you. Thoughts go through your mind. They enter. As though there is no you. No thing to do the thinking. Only this vessel, this receptacle fi. Sights come in, sounds–through other organs and orifices–smells. Her decaying splayed body. It comes into you. The light, the street, the wet bench, the dank night, the shoe, the pain, and thoughts. Thoughts come into you as though from nowhere, one following the other, now in sequence as though single file through association, now at random as one goes and another unrelated and unrecognized takes its place, unorganized. They think you. The thoughts happen, they just take place, they enter you and think themselves in you and they leave and others take over. Now those leave and so on. There is no logical duration corresponding to the content of the separate thoughts. You can sit for hours with thoughts of pickles and bubbles and nipples and noodles and roosters and bugles and show tunes and puddles and pork pies and flotsam and milktoast and tug boats and orange rind and lactose and thick soup and cat gut and ear hair and throat clogs and overcoats and bloated sti ‚ffs and hot cunts and tin sheers and needle noses and ear wax and floss and hoses and knobs and pellets and lips and pits and stubble and rockets and and lint and pints and kicks and steps and licks and knocks and nails and toes and and hairless baby ogres throwing dough down memory lanes at closing time without socks or weeping and these go away and make room for more until one day your doctor says I’m sorry see a lawyer and you realize you’ve never known anything you know nothing now and the thoughts that were yours at all were but feelings and all others lost the only consolation that they were never yours to begin with no one’s and you end without utterly without empty and bereft of even the need to need and you wish you knew something so that you might try to forget but even so you wouldn’t have the energy and so you wait to drop and for the last breaths and thoughts to come and pass on to other vessels leaving you for the first time ever utterly alone and truly your self . . . .
(pause)
Well?
(INSPECTOR looks up at him dumbly.)
What do you have to say for yourself? Hm?
(pause)
Are you going to tell me now? End this fiasco? This charade? Hmmm?
(pause)
INSPECTOR
Don’t make light of this.
(pause)
SUSPECT
Let that rest. Now tell me what you do next.
INSPECTOR
I can’t.
SUSPECT
What thoughts go through your head.
INSPECTOR
It’s . . . I can’t recall . . . I’m . . . My mind’s a blank.
SUSPECT
Think. Think carefully.
INSPECTOR
There’s nothing to . . .
SUSPECT
You don’t have to tell me why, just tell me what. Then we’ll get to the how.
INSPECTOR
Really I can’t . . .
(silence)
SUSPECT
Well. You don’t have to tell me now. If you do not wish to. I have time. We have all night. You have all the time in the world. I’m a patient man.
(silence)
All right. Let’s go over this again.
INSPECTOR
All right.
(Pause. As though snapping out of reverie:)
All what?
(pause)
(BLACKOUT)
(END OF PLAY)