FLECK
A Modern Imitation of Goethe’s Faust
by Alasdair Gray
In Three Acts with Prologue and Epilogue
by Alasdair Gray
In Three Acts with Prologue and Epilogue
Acts 2 and 3 are not quite complete. Asterisks indicate gaps in the writing.
PROLOGUE BEFORE THE THEATRE CURTAIN
The curtain is a rich dark blue. SOUND: Grandly solemn chords of religious music by Handel, Haydn or Bach. The curtains part enough to show three angels facing the audience in long robes the colour of the curtains. Behind them, a dawn sky where the sun-sphere slowly ascends, crimson changing through orange and gold to white as the angels chant.
RAPHAEL: The sun-star, glorious as ever,
bathes all his worlds in golden light
still rolling round the galaxy
midst nebulae as vast and bright.
Planets and moons attend his glory,
reflect his beams in sparkling ray
while angels, heralding this story,
announce the dawning of a day.
GABRIEL: Swift, unimaginably swift
the mighty earth is rolling too
from darkness of profoundest night
to skies celestially blue.
while winds contest with ocean waves
or drive them on like fleeing crowds
against the base of granite cliffs
whose summits penetrate the clouds –
MICHAEL: Storm clouds, whose snow and hail and rains
in stream and cataract pour down
to flood and irrigate the plains
ensuring growth is nature’s crown –
that seeds take root and creatures feed
from humble worm to beast of prey,
while angels, heralding the Lord,
announce the dawning of his day.
SOUND: A mighty chord.
The sun has disappeared upwards, leaving the sky clear blue. The angels look upward, raising their arms. A spotlight shines down on them as they recite the chorus and NICK enters jauntily, bends knees in servile caricature of a courtly bow and raises both arms to Heaven in mocking imitation of the angels. He wears sharp black trousers and jacket, and dark red roll-neck sweater.
THE THREE ANGELS: And sounding colour glows and leaps
twixt star and sun and world and moon –
God is the harmony that keeps
all nature’s orchestra in tune!
The spotlight swings out onto NICK who jumps up, stands to attention and gives a Nazi salute before speaking with the overdone bonhomie of an experienced gate-crasher.
NICK: Good Lord, it’s wonderful to have you here,
and – God Almighty – since you condescend
to let me supervise this bad wee globe,
I’m bound to greet you as a long-lost friend,
my oldest chum. Excuse my slang these days
but since expulsion from your Heavenly choir
I’ve never seen one thing deserving praise
in jargon your angelic hordes admire.
Creation is perhaps a giant joke
that pleases you. Not me! I deal with folk –
men – women – shit, in short. Why give these clods
intelligence? A gift that damned immortal Gods
like me – your deputy! Men would be less bad
without the sciences that make them glad
to torture, kill themselves, their planet too.
GOD: Do you like nothing here?
NICK: Nothing. The whole mess gars me grew.
GOD: Do you know Fleck?
NICK: Professor Fleck? O yes.
A muddled soul. I laugh at his distress.
A mammy’s boy. A teacher’s pet. A swot
who hoped the girls would find him fascinating
for knowing what the other lads did not.
That did not fetch them. Missing youthful pleasures
he groped in books for intellectual treasures
till, master of three sciences or four,
he finds professoring a deadly bore
and knows his over-stimulated brain
has done no good, and left him half insane.
GOD: Fleck is unhappy like all honest folk
who do not think the world a giant joke
and find the prize they worked for, hard and long,
is worthless, and has put them in the wrong.
NICK: Aye aye! These very intellectual pains
come easily to men who have no weans
and wives to feed, and do not hear the pleas
of homeless millions, dying of disease.
GOD: Fleck is bewildered. Science and art are born
by those whose inner selves are almost torn
apart by pains that will not let them rest
until they reach the highest and the best.
NICK: Reach you, in fact! How lovely! What if I
prevent that? How about it? Let me try!
GOD: You tried before.
NICK: (in Yankee) – in three-six-nine BC
with Job, your servant? Yep, he sure fooled me.
I knocked his house down, killed his children quick,
stole all his money, left him poor and sick,
his skin one itching scab from head to toe,
then friends arrive, appalled to see such woe,
and to console him, busily explain
he must be wicked to deserve such pain!
Despite the evil things you let me do
that poor sap Job never lost faith in you!
GOD: People with nothing else have only me.
NICK: The wealthy are my business? I agree.
Professor Fleck owns nothing rich and fine.
I’ll give him all he wants, to make him mine
– if you allow me?
GOD: Do your wicked best.
NICK: Indeed I will! Good Lord I am impressed
by your permissiveness. Moses talked rot
when parroting his slogan, Thou Shalt Not.
God forbids nothing. Why do folk forget
the first word that you ever spoke was Let –
Let There Be Light! Let there be Lucifer,
and the pervading brightness lets all see
the lightest of your eldest sons is me.
GOD: A fool.
NICK: – who’s licensed by your Holiness,
the jester of the universe, no less!
Forgive me levity. I must feel gay
since you are letting me make Fleck my prey.
GOD: Demons like you, Old Nick, I tolerate
because your antics undo something worse –
those smooth routines upholding every state
where management makes government a curse.
Fleck keeps rich managements in good repair.
His well-attended academic courses
turn youths into exploitable resources.
Remove him from his academic chair!
NICK: Dead or alive?
GOD: Alive.
NICK: (Australian) Good on you, God!
I hate tormenting ghosts. It’s much more nice
to toy with living souls, like pussy toys with mice.
GOD’s spotlight swings back from NICK to his ANGELS.
GOD: My better children, come back to the sky
and there enjoy the better things we do.
Make life the loveliest form of energy
that every day creates the world anew!
SOUND like a great Amen as curtain closes, shutting NICK out with the audience to whom he familiarly remarks –
NICK: I like to see the old dear dropping in
when weary of his land of endless light
that gave me heatstroke once. He needs Old Nick,
and toffs like him are never impolite.
Exit NICK.
ACT ONE
CAST LIST: Fleck
Nick
May – a young student
Martha – a mature student
Jill – a young student, later another cosmetician
Bill – a young student
A professional cosmetician
A fashionable hairdresser
(The last four characters can double)
SCENE: Fleck’s Study, low lighting at first. Backstage centre, a wide window so high we cannot see the top – outside a starry night sky diagonally crossed by the milky way. Back right, a laboratory bench with Bunsen burner, its low flame under a retort of glowing liquid bubbling out along glass tubes; a plastic globe of the modern world, lit from inside, also several beakers and green glass stoppered bottles. Left back, a tall church lectern with brass eagle facing audience, supporting on its wings a great shut book. Front right, a swivel chair at an office desk with computer, the latter slanted to show on the screen a mathematical formula in several colours. Front left, a narrow spot lights a throne-like armchair where FLECK, bearded, wearing a quilted dressing gown, sits contemplating a skull in his hand.
SOUND: Westminster chimes strike the half hour.
FLECK: [morosely] Psychology – I mastered that,
biology and physics too.
In each I’ve made discoveries
my colleagues lecture on as true,
the fools. [stands and wanders uneasily about]
One certainty my knowledge brings –
science and wisdom are quite different things.
Why call my colleagues fools? I’m just as bad.
[puts skull down on desk or bench]
Students pour in to pay their fees,
swallow my words and use my knowledge
to stay behind and teach in college
or start their own consultancies.
Who once had gained high office in the Church
are now engaged in highly-paid research.
I once believed the sciences I taught
were founding universal brotherhood.
Psychologists today become spin doctors,
Biologists are making cheap, fast food.
The physicists invent new ways of killing
for sale to terrorists of every nation –
government forces or their enemies –
both sides enrich a global corporation.
I can’t go on like this. I have to change,
how? I must call on what, to me, is strange –
occultism. Self-hypnosis. Artful tricks
which once got people burned as heretics.
No wonder!
[FLECK goes to lectern]
Nostradamus wrote this book.
[FLECK opens it. Blue light from within shines on his face.]
He knew some things smart moderns overlook.
These starry signs can give a man control,
of forces that still shape the human soul.
[As he turns more pages his face is lit with other colours.]
Dealings with Mercury would make me rich,
and Bachus elevate me with his wine.
Venus could turn me into Don Juan,
Apollo make my singing voice divine.
Mars, giving victory through marshal art,
might make of me another Bonaparte.
Great Jupiter has made more lasting kings,
but heads of state today are feeble things.
Such partial gods divide the human soul,
where is the spirit that can make it whole?
[He turns a page that lights his face more strongly.]
The sign of the Earth Spirit! – yes, the Earth
alone can give a man a second birth.
[He gazes in wonder.]
I think that I begin to understand it
but do I have the courage to command it?
No solid mass of mineral density
but a great fountain of vitality
or else a strongly rooted wind-tossed tree
with many gleaming fruits among the leaves –
fruits that are living souls. And is one me?
[With violence.]
No! I am God’s image – shaped from earthly clay
but with a soul that never shall decay!
Anything less than God must be my brother.
[Ripping the page out he holds it up, staring at it.]
Earth Spirit, visit me in human form
for you and me must talk to one another!
SOUND of a tremendous musical chord with fading echo as night sky behind window is replaced by a dazzling face so big that at first only an eye, then mouth, are only completely visible. FLECK drops the page which a gust sweeps into the wings. The SPIRIT’S voice is clear, with slight echo.
SPIRIT: Why do you call?
FLECK, with inarticulate cry, reels, shuddering.
SPIRIT: Answer! Why call me here?
FLECK clutches his hair.
SPIRIT: Why do you want me? Answer! Are you dumb?
FLECK: Go! . . . Back! . . . A little further back! My fear . . .
is almost overcome.
The SPIRIT recedes so that most of the centre fills the doorway. It is the face of a pre-adolescent child, indignant but capable of derision.
SPIRIT: [mocking] Fear almost overcome?
Where is the insolence that called me brother
and tried to give itself a better goal
by forcing me into this tete-a-tete,
to recreate your wretched little soul?
FLECK: You daunted me at first, great spirit, true.
Not now! Now I command you to renew
the thing I am by saying what you are!
SPIRIT: I am the only planet of your star
to carry living souls who question me.
In calms and storms
and foaming waves
I bring new forms
from birth to graves,
steadily blending,
coming and going,
brief but unending
lives overflowing,
from ocean depths up to the windswept sky
I weave for God the clothes you see Him by.
Hearing this FLECK has become exalted.
FLECK: O noble spirit, working through time and space
to make this sordid globe a better place,
thank you! A thousand thanks for now I see
we are alike!
Amused, the SPIRIT speaks through silent laughter.
SPIRIT: You see a vision you’re imagining! – Not me!
FLECK: [yells] Not you?
SOUND – Tremendous musical chord as face dwindles to vanishing point in the night sky.
FLECK: [groaning] I made that . . . thing appear before my eyes
and questioned it, and listened to replies,
and glimpsed a being similar to mine
sharing a purpose that I thought divine,
yet saw it falsely! Why do I exist?
Professor Fleck’s a paltry solipsist!
An academic fraud! Impotent too!
Useless and sexless –
SOUND, loud knocking.
FLECK [in a snarling shout] Enter! Who the hell are you?
Enter NICK as an enthusiastic spectacled lad with tousled hair, wearing slippers and pyjamas under an open white laboratory coat, a half bottle of whisky in the pocket. The audience need not at once notice he is NICK. FLECK, disgusted, slumps down in the big chair.
NICK: Excuse me sir, I think you were rehearsing
a tragedy translated from the Greek.
Though just a residential lab assistant
a grasp of languages is what I seek.
A scientist like you I’ll never be,
but might become a guru on TV
telling folk what we do in this laboratory,
making it sound like fun, if I’d the oratory.
Tell me sir, would a course of drama teach
a lad like me a better flow of speech?
FLECK: Your present flood of words is adequate –
smooth eloquence is wholly out of date.
Broadcasters think the public is a fool
so sounding stupid is their golden rule.
If you would like to be more widely known
don’t try to change your . . . slightly vulgar tone.
NICK: [pleased] Wonderful news! [thoughtfully] A bit depressing too,
if famous me can never be, like you,
looked up to!
FLECK: You’d be envied for your fame.
NICK: You make that seem a rather pointless game.
I’ll think about it. Sorry I butted in.
FLECK: Carter, I’m glad. Your unexpected knocking
prevented me indulging in a shocking
burst of self-pity, I regret to say.
NICK: Yes, many folk feel like that on Hogmanae.
FLECK: Hogmanae?
NICK: Soon we will hear the bells.
FLECK: Year gone and nothing gained.
NICK: My granny tells
me time goes faster as we use years up.
Let’s welcome, sir, the new year in a cup
of what the Scots call kindness – raise a cheer
with friends who’ve come to welcome the new year,
fine girls among them! You need a party, so –
[produces whisky bottle]
FLECK: [violently] Carter, it’s peace I need. Thank you, but go!
Please leave. A party? Surely not. No no.
NICK leaves with grimace, shrug and sharp backward glance. SOUND of Westminster chimes before the strokes of midnight. FLECK stands and moves talking loudly, heavily and slowly while approaching the laboratory bench, each of his lines punctuated by a stroke of the bell.
FLECK: Carter, that idiot, (1) stopped me going mad.
The very greatest, (2) fun-da-men-tal cause
of me and all I know (3) both good and bad
declared I could not (4) see the thing it was.
So! I twist every (5) thing to selfishness?
True, but I can’t (6) continue in this mess.
[he lifts bottle from bench, unstoppers it]
To be, or not? Not! (7) I will pour my own
cup of kindness. Mhm (8) Phe-no-bar-bi-tone
[pours measure into beaker]
will end my year. (9) Fleck, why hesitate?
Courage, Professor! (10) Come, embrace your fate.
You don’t fear death (11) You don’t believe in Hell.
This cup of kindness (12) will make all things well.
FLECK is raising the beaker to his lips when simultaneously –
SOUND of wild chiming bells, fireworks crackling as rocket explodes in night sky. NICK, in sweater and trousers, pulling MAY by one hand, MARTHA by the other, bursts in with JILL and BILL in fancy dress and paper party hats, singing. BILL with a bottle of wine. FLECK stares, astonished.
THE PARTY: A guid new year to ane and a’
and mony may ye see!
And here’s tae a’ the years tae come
and happy may they be!
NICK pulls the two women over to FLECK shouting over the song –
NICK: Because, Professor, you are far far too
busy to join the girls, they come to you!
[he grabs and flings away the beaker]
Now then!
The bemused FLECK, his hands seized by MAY and MARTHA, is pulled into a ring of NICK hand-in-hand with MAY and JILL and BILL (who has put his wine bottle on the floor) hand-in-hand with JILL and MARTHA. They dance sideways singing –
MARTHA: Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind?
MAY: We’ll tak a cup o kindness yet
For auld lang syne.
EVERYONE: For auld lang syne, my jo,
For auld lang syne
We’ll tak a cup o kindness yet
For auld lang syne.
The ring dances the opposite way with FLECK starting to be amused.
MAY: We twa hae paidl’d in the burn,
Frae morning sun till dine;
MARTHA: But seas between us braid he roar’d
Sin’ auld lang syne.
EVERYONE: For auld lang syne, my jo,
For auld lang syne
We’ll tak a cup o kindness yet
For auld lang syne.
All cross hands to shake each others, narrowing the circle.
MAY: Then there’s a hand, my trusty fiere!
MARTHA: And gie’s a hand o’ thine!
MAY and MARTHA: And we’ll tak a right gude-willie waught
For auld lang syne.
FLECK now looks and laughs from one girl to the other who laugh back.
EVERYONE: For auld lang syne, my jo,
For auld lang syne
We’ll tak a cup o kindness yet
For auld lang syne.
The ring breaks. NICK, without releasing MAY’s hand, pulls her to the desk and sits on it, pushing her down into the swivel chair. MARTHA, older, plumper and more sexily dressed, pulls FLECK by the hand to his own chair. He collapses into it with relief, she sits on the chair arm, snuggling against him. BILL lifts the bottle, goes with JILL to the bench. He empties the bottle into six beakers, then serves NICK and MAY with two as JILL takes two to FLECK and MARTHA; then JILL and BILL amuse themselves at the bench with the other two glasses and the skull, before going to the lectern where BILL enjoys turning the book’s pages to show images JILL pretends to find shocking or frightening. Meanwhile the others converse, MARTHA talking to FLECK who answers absentmindedly because he is looking across at MAY, NICK talking to MAY who is intrigued by the sight of FLECK and MARTHA.
FLECK: One of my students are you?
MARTHA: Don’t you know?
FLECK: When lecturing my mind’s on what I teach.
MARTHA: You don’t see faces?
FLECK: No need. The exams show
who listens.
MARTHA: O? You failed me in psychology.
FLECK: [amused] I hope you’re not expecting an apology.
They both sip from their beakers.
NICK: Behold Professor Fleck learning to flirt!
MAY: He isn’t streetwise.
NICK: Worried he’ll get hurt?
You like big daddies?
MAY: I don’t like you, Carter!
NICK: Of course! I’m a smart alec – no-one smarter.
No decent girls want me I’m glad to say.
Drink up!
FLECK: [still watching MAY] Will you repeat the year?
MARTHA: [nodding] I’ve paid my fees.
FLECK: Mature student?
MARTHA: Twice divorced, you see –
FLECK: [interrupts, raising forefinger] Please!
Give me no details. I’m not a wise confessor
but just your rather immature professor.
MARTHA: [smiling] We all know that.
FLECK: [indifferent] Who is this all who know?
MARTHA: Your female students, sir.
FLECK: [mildly interested] How does it show?
MARTHA: Not looking at us straight is the reaction
of someone terrified of our attraction
unless we’re out of reach, like my friend May.
FLECK, for the first time, looks straight at her.
FLECK: Is that her name? Perhaps you think I’m gay?
MARTHA: [laughing] O no sir. You’re as miserable as Hell.
FLECK, laughing, raises her hand to his lips and kisses the back of it.
FLECK: I failed you in psychology! Well well!
NICK: [to MAY] Professor Fleck’s emerging from his shell.
But Martha’s not his type. It’s you, my dear,
he’ll want when he relaxes – never fear.
MAY: That’s stupid! I am no professor’s pet.
NICK: Not now you ain’t but he’ll surprise you yet.
MAY: He’s far too dignified, too old, too stout!
NICK: Inside him there’s a young chap wanting out.
NICK suddenly empties his glass, claps hands, leaping to middle of floor.
NICK: [shouting] My friends! My friends! Bad news! Bad news! Bad news!
It’s Hogmanae and we’ve run out of booze!
Loud groans from BILL and JILL.
NICK: There’s plenty in my room – you know the way!
BILL: Three cheers for Carter! Hip hip hip –
BILL, JILL, MARTHA: Hooray!
MARTHA empties her glass as BILL and JILL leave, and stands, saying to FLECK –
MARTHA: Coming?
FLECK: No.
MARTHA: You ought to come – cheerio.
MARTHA leaves as NICK pulls MAY across to FLECK.
NICK: Professor, this shy girly wants to say – what is it?
MAY: Thanks.
FLECK: [rises] For what? I gave you nothing, May.
You helped to save my life.
NICK: [laughing] He’s right! That’s true!
MAY and FLECK gaze into each other’s eyes, then abruptly she runs out. NICK slaps FLECK on the shoulder and strolls away, highly pleased with himself after chortling and rubbing hands. FLECK, arms folded on chest, stands watching him curiously.
FLECK: Carter, what are you?
NICK: [to the audience] He’s rumbled my wheeze.
FLECK: Rumbled?
NICK: I turn to slang at times like these,
being embarrassed by the fact that I
(though your assistant) am a . . . sort of . . . spy.
FLECK: Who for? The government?
NICK: [scratching his head] I’ll start again.
Forgive me! It’s not easy to explain.
FLECK sits back in his chair, cheek on fist, prepared to be bored.
NICK: I am a part of what was endless night
before a greater part discovered light.
That bigger part is everybody’s dad –
boss of all things, including you, my lad.
Dad has (don’t ask me why) conceived a plan
that needs you to become a better man.
FLECK: I know our universities are now infested
With spies but I am just not interested.
[yawning] And everybody’s dad? Stop talking rot.
Police chiefs do not think that way.
NICK: Why not?
My brother, who’s a simpleton and dunce,
became a carpenter’s apprentice once.
Why should his older brother not be earning
cash as your lab-boy in this seat of learning?
I’ll tell you why! Working here stunts my growth,
just as it’s stunting yours. It’s time we both
set out for fresher fields and pastures new.
FLECK: Carter, I am alive because of you
and grateful, but please tell the CIA
or MI5 or any other boss,
Fleck’s not for hire. He’ll find me no great loss.
NICK raises his eyes to Heaven punching his brow, then flings away his spectacles and goes to FLECK saying –
NICK: O Fleck Fleck Fleck! Why must you be so thick?
Look at me! [grasps Fleck’s shoulders]
Can’t you see that I’m Old Nick?
FLECK: [without getting up] Give me a sign.
NICK stands back, snaps his fingers.
SOUND: deafening crash of thunder with instant darkness on stage but red sky with branched lightening outside window. Silence and normal lightening is suddenly resumed. FLECK, sitting up in his chair, watches NICK who faces him from a distance, hands on hips.
NICK: Are you convinced?
FLECK: A cinematic trick,
impressive though. And what else can you do?
NICK: Some hokus-pokus stuff involving you.
FLECK stands up, alarmed.
NICK: Worry ye not! The change, when I unfold it,
will please you very much when you behold it. [claps his hands]
Music and cosmeticians come to me!
Make over Fleck as he would like to be!
SOUND: sinister, seductive music (perhaps Anitra’s dance from the Peer Gynt Suite) as stage lights changes to revolving coloured spots cast by disco ball. TWO FEMALE BEAUTICIANS and a BARBER skip in with trolley holding tools of their trade. They wear scarlet and/or purple clothes that are otherwise conventional. Their ballet with FLECK (who is dazed and passive) removes his thickly padded gown, taking away enough bulk to show an athletic figure in black slacks and white shirt. They press him into the chair, drape a barber’s sheet round him, turn the chair-back to audience. A BARBER shaves and trims FLECK helped by the women who present towels, razors, combs, brushes, moisturisers. NICK strolls around, sometimes watching with approval, sometimes slightly bored. BARBER whisks off sheet, swivels chair round and helps to his feet a handsome new beardless FLECK as the BEAUTICIANS pull in from the wings a tall mirror on casters, turning it to show FLECK his new beardless image. BARBER and BEAUTICIANS skip out with trolley as –
SOUND of music stops, lighting goes normal.
FLECK turns to NICK who contemplates him smugly.
FLECK: Why have you done this?
NICK: To display my might.
FLECK: Old Nick’s an exhibitionist?
NICK: Not quite.
I am a salesman. This is an example
of goods I’m selling. Call it a free sample.
FLECK: Your other goods?
NICK: Sex, money, power and glory.
FLECK: Paid for in Hell?
NICK: Please disregard that story.
You pay for them in Hell, but never fear.
Your Hell is not eternal. It is here.
FLECK: Hell is on earth?
NICK: On earth – I won’t deceive you,
the goods I’m offering will often grieve you.
Self pity for the hearts you have to break –
regret for lives you ruin by mistake –
the loneliness of being rich and great
and hated by all who envy your estate –
are tedious at times. I must confess
self pity and regret and loneliness
are what you’ll pay me for the goods I sell.
FLECK: I’ve known these all my life.
NICK: [cheerfully] Welcome to Hell!
You’ll find the game well worth the entrance price,
but first, a word of warning and advice.
The satisfying of each splendid sense
may place a burden on your conscience
unless you shake it off.
FLECK: Can that be done?
NICK: Of course! With drink and drugs – but it’s more fun
to lose old deeds by plunging into new.
Rapid activity’s the drug for you.
All passionate delight in womankind
produces babies or a broken heart.
All schemes to make the world a better place
must break some heads and spoil some works of art.
In the destructive element immerse!
I’ll teach you swimming, Fleck – it is your fate
to be magnificent! Dare to be great!
FLECK: [coldly] You have not told me why you offer this.
After a pause NICK speaks unwillingly.
NICK: I do it to annoy someone I hate.
FLECK: Why does God let you?
NICK: [desperately] Please! Forget that shit!
FLECK: You’re hiding something that I need to know.
NICK: [in Cockney] Rumbled my wheeze again, you cunning lad.
[soberly] The whole thing started many years ago
when there was perfect peace, secure, blank, black,
featureless, timeless, silent cosiness
till someone moved. With a tremendous crack
eternity became a gibbering mess
of substances. The universe became!
FLECK: We call it The Big Bang.
NICK: Too kind a name. I call it The Big Fart.
The gas condensed in globes flying apart
and waltzing around each other while they fled,
half blinding me who loved the kindly night
before the first mover shattered my warm bed.
The echo of his fart rings in my ears.
FLECK: [amused] It has been called the music of the spheres.
NICK: Spectacularly pointless radiation
was not enough for that prolific toff
who spat it, shat it out. He wanted admiration!
FLECK: But God has angels.
NICK: Aye, a heavenly host
who think he’s the bees’ knees, but dogs don’t boast
of how they love their fleas’ appreciation.
Love has to be free. Mine was the one free mind.
I loathed that dog-spelled-backward’s whole creation.
“What use are your billion zillion worlds?” I cried.
“What use are new born babies?” he replied,
teasing me with a wholly senseless word.
A million zillion centuries elapsed
before the first babies occurred.
FLECK: [keenly] So God foresaw men before life began?
NICK: God knows what God foresaw – I don’t, young man.
The babes he looked to maybe were jellyfish,
worms, centipedes, any low form of life
except those pissing, squawking manikins
who grew up to be Adam and his wife.
FLECK: And was that when you came to earth?
NICK: [sighing] O no.
I came here long long long long long long ago.
NICK speaks the next nine lines in Cockney.
NICK: One day Almighty Gawd, ‘e sez ter me,
“Nicky, let us agree ter disagree.
“’Ere’s a young planet – nufink too immense –
“where molecules is shuffling into sense
“and that means life, my boy! So you go there
“and do your best to ruin the affair.
“I’m all for life,” sez ‘e, “but if you can
“manage to stamp it out, then you’re the better man.”
“Want a bet, guv?” I sez to ‘im, “Alright!”
[speaking as usual] And that is why I’ve met you here tonight.
FLECK: But life has triumphed!
NICK: [shrugging] So far, so it seems.
FLECK: What place have I in your destructive schemes?
NICK: His Holiness and I both want to see
how you will use the powers that make you free
to do just what you want.
FLECK: Well, first of all
I want a good night’s sleep.
NICK: A good idea. Start small.
NICK snaps his fingers. Immediate darkness.
END OF ACT ONE
******************
Act Two: A Casino
SCENE: A brightly lit central lounge with big entrance at back – perhaps more than one – leading to darker, busier rooms. But the lower parts of entrances are hidden by the high backs of four big, curved, luxurious sofas, each with a table before it.
CAST: FLECK and NICK
WAITER – who serves drinks people want before they ask for it
HARRY MACDUFF – a Procurator Fiscal
JOCK – a young Glaswegian drug dealer
TOADY – his Henchman
HONEY – his Moll
SMELLIE – Councillor and Online Entrepreneur
MAY
MARTHA
LEE CHING – Chairman of Global Employers Federation
TIMON KODAK – his American Henchman
LOUDSPEAKER – making announcements during which people enter.
All wear evening dress, though JOCK, TOADY and HONEY’s don’t fit them well.
MAY wears a little black dress, MARTHA’s is a striking example of high prostitute fashion.
Enter NICK and FLECK.
LOUDSPEAKER: Ladies and gentlemen, in ten minutes the Grand National will be televised in the Lady Godiva Suite where you will be served by topless barmaids, so place your bets and take your places!
FLECK: [disgusted] A gambling den.
hands clasped behind head, left leg over right.
NICK: Where you’re going to meet
winners and losers who will change your life.
Drunks gamble faster so the drinks are free,
financed by a fraction of what brokers,
politicians, drug dealers lose
on a gambling spree.
NICK makes himself comfortable on extreme left of the left sofa.
FLECK: [sitting down beside him] I don’t gamble, don’t booze.
NICK: Very wise. Nor do I.
The world is now one great Las Vegas where
winners can enjoy whatever they please
if (like us) they can pay the entrance fees.
You have trousered a Nobel Prize, John Fleck,
a fact we are both here to celebrate
and May will soon be here. May is your fate.
FLECK: [frowning] Did she drag me to a chair on Hogmanae?
NICK: [shakes head] May is not plump – May is demure, petite,
and (French aside) [with nudge and wink] a damned good lovely lay,
so don’t go away. Let’s share a dish of tea.
WAITER puts tray with tea things and plate of biscuits on table before them.
NICK: [lifting pot] Shall I be mother?. . . A little milk? One lump or two?
LOUDSPEAKER: Ladies and gentlemen, in ten minutes a game of baccarat and nude mud wrestling will commence in the Marie Antoinette Suite. Take your places.
Enter MACDUFF, who sits calmly on the back right sofa where the WAITER serves him with a glass of brandy, also JOCK, TOADY and HONEY, uneasy as this is their first encounter with rich company. They go to the extreme right sofa. JOCK sits down first with head bowed over hands clasped between knees. TOADY sits to his right, HONEY to his left.
TOADY: [awestruck] Wot an amazin place!
HONEY: You’re very quiet, Jock.
JOCK: I am tense.
TOADY: Which could lead to a fight! Am I right?
HONEY: [worried] Only if he hears a remark he dislikes –
TOADY: [amused] He won’t hear one from me!
HONEY: Or me –
JOCK: Of course not. You are my team, so we agree.
HONEY: [pleading] Jock, don’t start a fight here, the bouncers are tough.
TOADY: Not as tough as Jock’s team when the chips are down!
JOCK: [sitting up] And the flag goes up and starting pistol fires!
MACDUFF: Talk more quietly please.
TOADY eagerly, HONEY frightened, stare tensely at JOCK for a moment. He suddenly smiles at MACDUFF as the WAITER approaches them, tray in hand.
JOCK: [calmly] You said please.
I like good manners. Your manners are good enough.
JOCK addresses the WAITER, pointing to his pals.
JOCK: Large malt for him, gin and coke for Honey,
apple juice for me…
WAITER offers them to surprised JOCK and his team.
JOCK: You knew I drink that? [throws note onto tray]
Here’s fifty quid. Keep the change. I’m not short of money.
LOUDSPEAKER: Ladies and gentlemen, in ten minutes a game of blackjack and
bare fist cage boxing will commence in the Emperor Nero Suite. Take your
places.
FLECK: Is that legal?
NICK: Clubs that can pay enough
can buy a special license from the police. [points to MACDUFF]
There’s our Procurator Fiscal! [hails him] Hello, MacDuff!
MACDUFF: Why, hello Nick. You turn up everywhere.
NICK: Yes, I’m as busy as you.
Enter SMELLIE with confident MARTHA on his right arm, shy MAY slightly behind to his left. They go to sit with MACDUFF watched by JOCK and his team, and by NICK and FLECK. MAY, looking at the floor, sees nobody.
MACDUFF: Councillor Smellie and twa bonnie lassies!
Introduce me.
WAITER places tray with four champagne glasses and bottle on their nearest table.
SMELLIE: Martha, meet legal eagle Harry MacDuff.
This shrinking violet is her shy friend, May
who will maybe perk up after some bubbly
that has popped in –
WAITER pops out the champagne cork. FLECK looks across at the sound.
SMELLIE: – at just the right time of day.
WAITER fills the glasses.
MACDUFF: A glass for me? You’re really far too kind!
TOADY: Cor, look at them bints! Just look! I wouldn’t mind
giving one of them a stiff hard present.
HONEY: Don’t talk unpleasant, Toady. I’m a lady too.
TOADY: [scornfully] A lady? You?
JOCK: [fiercely] Belt up! She’s mine so a lady tonight!
[thoughtfully] But in a way, Honey, Toady’s quite right
I wish you dressed like her. [points]
HONEY: [indignant] Dress up like a hoor?
JOCK: The thin one, not the fat.
I would pay to dress you like that.
HONEY: [sarcastically] Ta muchly!
JOCK continues staring at MAY just as FLECK is doing.
NICK: That’s her. That’s May.
FLECK: [wistfully] The girl I used to –
NICK: [standing] like!
I must bring you two lovebirds together.
He goes to the MACDUFF group saying heartily –
NICK: Councillor Smellie, our great new sportsman,
good to see you!
SMELLIE: [smiling] Me a sportsman? No, Nick
I don’t give a damn for games.
NICK: But it’s true
you’ve bought a football and a rugby club?
SMELLIE: Oh that? Yes. Now both clubs use the same pitch.
MACDUFF: Leaving the other pitch for you to sell?
SMELLIE: To rent out.
MARTHA: To who?
SMELLIE: To me.
NICK: [laughing] Merry hell!
That’s truly creative accountancy! [quietly to MAY, pointing]
John Fleck over there wants a word with you.
MAY, surprised and grateful, leaves the sofa and goes toward FLECK as NICK sits down in her place.
NICK: So why rent your own property, Smellie?
SMELLIE: My Independent Finance Initiative
is going to build a big new school there
for kids whose schools are closing everywhere.
It will have three internal playgrounds on
the first, nineteenth and thirty-seventh floor
for nursery, primary and secondary classes.
MARTHA: You’ll pile the kids high?
MACDUFF: [laughing] The older they get, the nearer the sky!
NICK: A wonderful way to elevate the masses!
MAY stands staring open-mouthed at FLECK who stares open-mouthed back.
MAY: Professor Fleck – oh I’m glad to see you.
This is a strange place. It’s my first time here.
FLECK: Please sit down and please call me John.
I’m a beginner too.
She sits and they continue gazing at each other, watched by JOCK, who frowns. Enter LEE CHING and TIMON KODAK who go to the left central sofa followed by WAITER who serves them with modest cocktails, ignored by JOCK’s team but noticed by those on the right centre sofa.
LOUDSPEAKER: Ladies and gentlemen, take your places for a new game of roulette in the Marquis de Sade suite where the Torture Theatre will present its new cabaret Panties Inferno.
MAY: I don’t like this place, John.
FLECK: Nor I. It’s vile.
I’d leave at once but we’ve only just met.
WAITER puts two cocktails before them and removes tea tray.
FLECK: [smiling] Will one drink hurt us?
MAY: [smiling] Perhaps not.
Smiling at each other, they lift and clink glasses then sip a little.
MACDUFF, SMELLIE, MARTHA watch the new arrivals who NICK seems not to notice.
MACDUFF: Our club is getting cosmopolitan.
NICK: In a very big way.
SMELLIE: What do you mean?
NICK: They’re here to rent Dunfermline Business Park
for the conference on global hygiene
this autumn. The Chink is Ching Lee
of the Global Employers’ Federation,
The Yank is his sidekick. [getting up] Excuse me.
NICK goes over to LEE and KODAK
KODAK: Look who’s here! Our old pal Nicholas!
MACDUFF: Nick knows the bosses of every nation.
SMELLIE smiles, nods, sips his glass while Martha stares, awestruck.
NICK sits beside LEE, speaks on an intimate note while indicating FLECK with a slight gesture.
NICK: That man’s John Fleck.
LEE: The Nobel winner?
NICK: Yep.
KODAK: The name means nothing to me.
NICK: It soon will.
********************************************************************
NICK: [pleasantly] You recognise me, Jock?
JOCK: [unsure] I…think I do…
NICK: Yes, I am the one who makes your dreams come true!
From me comes all the ecstasy you sell
(behind my back of course) to all your clientele.
[in a low voice]
A big consignment’s stashed behind the door
of you-know-where. Mix it up one in four.
The girl your eye is fixed on will be yours
if you approach her in the proper way.
HONEY: But Jock, she’s got a man!
NICK: Poo! He’s timid, old and gay!
A tiny threat from you will make him run
and leave the wench to you, who’s handsome, brave and fun!
NICK snaps fingers and WAITER approaches, three brandy glasses on salver as JOCK gazes dreamily at MAY.
JOCK: Thanks for the tip…I see that, yes, I do!
NICK lifts two glasses, places one in JOCK’s hand. The WAITER stands by.
NICK: Let’s drink to that. Brandy for heroes. Tickety boo!
He clinks his glass against JOCK’s, flings back head, swallows brandy in one gulp. JOCK imitates him, drinks half his brandy, splutters and staggers slightly, then recovers, places empty glass on WAITER’s tray, then stares again at MAY. HONEY puts a hand on his sleeve.
HONEY: But Jock!
JOCK: Am I the boss, bitch?
HONEY: Yes boss. Yes.
NICK hands JOCK the third full brandy glass and speaks into his ear.
NICK: Her name is May. Now go in for the kill.
JOCK: [squaring his shoulders] Right. I will.
JOCK, glass in hand, crosses the floor to MAY and FLECK who, looking into each other’s eyes, don’t notice him before he speaks.
JOCK: May, you don’t know me yet, but soon you will!
FLECK: Excuse me!
JOCK: Faggot, I like your suit –
[flings brandy onto front of FLECK’s trousers]
pity about the stain.
Now take it to the cleaners.
MAY gasps, FLECK jumps up.
FLECK: You’re insane!
JOCK shouts to everyone else, pointing to FLECK’s trousers
JOCK: Fling this man out! He’s pissed his pants! You see?
All the women stare while all the men stand to see what’s happening.
FLECK: You drunken idiot!
JOCK: [growling] Don’t use those words to me!
JOCK produces a flick knife and lunges at FLECK. NICK leaps toward them with a single cry –
NICK: Stop everyone!
SOUND of abrupt musical chord. All but NICK stand frozen.
NICK: [pointing to FLECK] But you don’t stop! Disarm that fool!
NICK steps back, watching with folded arms. Everyone else stays rigidly frozen as FLECK, after a puzzled pause, slowly extends his right hand toward the fist holding the knife but, before touching it, looks at NICK who smiles and nods encouragingly. FLECK, with an effort, plucks the knife from JOCK’s rigid fist, then holds it wonderingly by the handle in front of himself, staring down at the blade. NICK snaps his fingers, crying –
NICK: Right! Carry on!
Everyone seated jumps up, the women screaming. JOCK’s lunge ends with his lower chest impaled on the knife. JOCK falls down gasping. HONEY rushes to kneel beside and wail over him.
HONEY: Don’t die Jock! Don’t die Jock! Don’t die Jock!
Oh oh oh please don’t die Jock!
JOCK dies.
HONEY: [pointing at FLECK] You bloody murderer. [weeps]
FLECK drops the bloody knife, shakes his head in a dazed way. The men stare at him, awestruck, the women stare at JOCK’s body though MAY anxiously puts a hand on FLECK’s shoulder. NICK smoothly addresses the company.
NICK: Ladies and gentlemen,
we all witnessed what has just occurred.
This poor young drunken villain at my feet
*********************************************************************
Act Three: The Media World
NEW CAST: KAY – a glamorous frivolous press woman
PEE – a stout gutter press man
CUE – a suave liberal press man
SCENE: On one side steps descend to an open touring limousine, centre stage. On the other side, some tables and chairs suggesting a street café.
Press, radio and television reporters, photographers and cameramen sit on chairs or stand around.
SOUND: The conclusion of Mendelssohn’s Wedding March.
FLECK and MAY, a newly married couple, descend the steps with NICK dressed like a very smart chauffeur. He opens the car door, they settle inside as the journalists swarm round.
KAY: Mrs Fleck, how do you feel now after
wedding Global Employers most highly
paid new consultant?
MAY: Wonderful. Lovely.
PEE: How does it feel, John, to be the Global
bosses most highly paid new consultant?
FLECK: Well, it’s a big responsibility.
CUE: What do they want to consult you about?
FLECK: Everything.
CUE: Global warming?
KAY: Bare midriffs
and tattoos?
PEE: [urgently] War on terror? Terror? Terror?
KAY: Who’s your favourite reality TV
star?
PEE: [sternly] And are you going to oppose the
hanging up of paedophiles by the balls
and if so, why?
CUE: What is your attitude
to the textual commodification
of economic processes?
FLECK: Please, please!
This is my wedding day. What I have to say
will be announced when I have had time
to carefully consider these questions.
PEE: Your sex tips for newlyweds?
FLECK stares at him. NICK intervenes swiftly, genially.
NICK: John Fleck’s not that kind of celebrity.
KAY: Your advice to newlyweds?
FLECK: Tell the truth.
NICK: And never never never be found out!
General laughter.
PEE: You’re his spin doctor?
NICK: An out of date term
I am the great consultant’s consultant
and sometimes speak for him, so let us cheer
the happy pair off for their honeymoon!
FLECK: There’s one thing I must first say.
Science has given us ways to devise
solutions to all the problems facing us
that we choose to recognise.
CUE: You have hopes
for mankind?
FLECK: We must never despair.
NICK: And on that cheerful note, goodbye to the lucky pair!
Amid loud cheers FLECK, MAY, NICK and MARTHA sweep out. Everyone else settles down in the chairs. WAITER serves them drinks. The three reporters are at one table, PEE looking dejected, CUE calmly cheerful, KAY repairing her make-up.
CUE: What’s wrong?
PEE: I’m short of nouns. I envy you.
CUE: Why?
PEE: The Guardian lets you use words with more
syllables than one. I’ve just two words for rotters –
beast and fiend.
CUE: You could say rat.
PEE: And we do.
Love rat ain’t bad, but rat is far too mild.
for child molesters.
CUE: [amused] Sod? Turd? Shit? Poo?
PEE: No fucking use. You know that in tabloids,
bad language is taboo. I hate my job,
sometimes.
KAY pauses in applying make-up, smiles at him sympathetically and says:
KAY: Gloating in gore and gruesome gabble,
you’re a paltry pimp who panders to the rabble.
PEE: [nodding] Too true.
CUE: What about Fleck?
PEE: Fleck is a mouthpiece, hired to make excuses
for all the global bosses worst abuses.
CUE: Maybe not. He’s a very great thinker
and new to the media game.
PEE: Don’t talk rot.
They pay him to be a parrot – a tame parrot
like me.
CUE: I don’t see that.
PEE: No. You’re an owl –
of course you disagree. You shut your eyes
to what our bosses don’t want us to recognise.
CUE: [sadly] You’re partly right. [sighs] A wise old owl
lived in an oak.
PEE: The more he heard, the less he spoke.
CUE: The less he spoke, the more he heard –
PEE and CUE together: Let’s emulate that wise old bird!
They chuckle, pleased with themselves. KAY, feeling left out, says
KAY: Cuckoo!
PEE and CUE stare at her.
KAY: [pointing] If you are a parrot and you’re an owl,
I’m a cuckoo making a cheery meaningless noise
to help my readers think it’s always spring –
CUE: [sings] When birds do sing hey ding-a-ding-a-ding –
KAY: [sings] – hey ding-a-ding-a-ding –
KAY and CUE in harmony: Sweet lovers love the spring!
This has drawn attention from the rest of the media team. Some jump up and all start singing.
CHORUS: Parrots, owls and cuckoos!
Happy folk are we.
We have not much to tell you but
we say it say it say it say it say it say it say it till –
you finally agree.
CUE: Parrots, owls and cuckoos!
We speak and talk for you.
KAY: Our platitudes are endless but
we tell them tell them tell them tell them tell them till –
PEE: you come to think they’re true.
CHORUS: Parrots, owls and cuckoos!
And also many geese,
and if you say we’re shameless ruthless greedy selfish liars –
CUE: That’s libellous!
KAY: Libel!
PEE: Libel, libel, libel!
CHORUS: So send for the police.
*********************************************************************
FLECK: You love mischief.
NICK: [nodding] Only mischief makes me laugh.
FLECK hands over a sheaf of three papers.
FLECK: Show global bosses the speech I will make
to the United Nations on their behalf.
NICK looks quickly through them.
NICK: [muttering] How does it end?..Hm.
Strong government measures against unnecessary waste
must not interrupt steady economic growth
by being implemented with immoderate haste.
[indignant] You call this mischievous? A gross mistake.
This is commonplace ordinary mischief if –
– if this is the speech you’re going to make?
FLECK: Attend and see.
NICK: By G! . . Ahem. By economic growth,
John Fleck, you begin to fascinate me.
FLECK: I’ve never you for anything, Nick.
NICK: [nodding and grinning] True!
All you ever wanted just came to you –
love, a child, riches, fame – you just! Somehow! Got!
FLECK: I ask for something now.
NICK: Indeed? What?
FLECK: My speech next month may lead to public disgrace.
NICK: Wonderful!
FLECK: Get May and the child into a safe place
before it. That is the only thing I ask.
NICK: [airily] For one with my connexions that’s a simple task.
FLECK: But let me see them first.
NICK: [sighing] Human sentiment!
I loathe it, but you shall see them right away.
I’ll do anything to oblige a pal.
NICK snaps his fingers and leaves. The forestage darkens. The back curtain rises to reveal a sunny lawn between bright flowerbeds with the open French windows of a splendid building behind. MAY sits on a cushion upon the lawn, nursing her baby, and gives a cry of delight as she sees FLECK approaching.
MAY: John!
FLECK: Dear May, dear May, thank God I’m home at last.
MAY: You’ve been such a long long time away!
FLECK: Yes,
I can’t help that – I have so much to do.
The Global Employers’ Federation.
*******************************************************************
KODAK: You bastard Nick!
You said we could trust him!
NICK: [shrugging] He fooled me too.
KODAK: You know now what we’ve got to do?
NICK: O yes. I’m sure it will work like a charm
if you’re fast enough.
KODAK: We’re fast enough!
It’s the one way to prevent colossal harm.
KODAK rushes out. FLECK strolls thoughtfully in.
NICK: John Fleck, congratulations!
You’ve put a real tiger cat among
the parrots, owls, cuckoos, tyrannosaurs,
and moles of the United Nations
FLECK: I told the truth.
NICK: And now want to see May?
FLECK: At once!
NICK: [sighing] Poor souls. Poor souls.
FLECK: Why do you mean?
NICK: You will soon discover
in a painful way. A pity you’re the lover
of your wife and wee one. What did Kipling say?
“Down to Gehenna or up to the Throne,
he travels the fastest who travels alone.”
FLECK: Are they not in a safe place?
NICK: As safe
as Global Employers can make them.
FLECK: [horrified] You lying bastard!
NICK: [amazed] That comes as a surprise?
You expect the Prince of Darkness not to tell lies?
KODAK enters briskly.
KODAK: Leave him to me now Nick.
O K, Fleck. Want to hear from your wife and child?
FLECK: Yes! Yes!
KODAK: [into a mobile phone] Give him sound.
SOUND. MAY is heard sobbing and a baby screaming.
FLECK: [aghast] What is happening to them?
KODAK: Listen for a while and she’ll tell you herself.
MAY’S VOICE: Help! Can nobody hear me? O baby don’t cry like that . . .
FLECK: [yells] Stop it! Whatever you’re doing, stop it!
KODAK: Have a word with her Fleck. [hands FLECK mobile phone]
FLECK: May, can you hear me? Can you hear me May?
MAY’S VOICE: [with a wild cry of relief] O John, where are you John?
FLECK: Where are you?
MAY’S VOICE: I don’t know, it’s totally dark here, perhaps I’ve gone blind?
O baby please don’t cry like that!
FLECK: [to KODAK] Please, please give her light!
KODAK: Certainly. [looks upward saying] Give her light there.
MAY’S VOICE: [sharp scream]
FLECK: [frantic] What’s happened dear?
MAY’S VOICE: A light went on.
FLECK: What do you see?
MAY’S VOICE: I’m on the soft floor . . . of a cushiony place . . .
A padded cell I suppose . . . but there’s a plate of baby food . . .
A big television screen . . . [she cries out]
It’s showing horrible things! Horrible horrible things!
FLECK: [yelling] Turn that set off!
KODAK: I’ll do better than that. [looks upward saying] Change the channel.
MAY’S VOICE: [she screams then starts laughing hysterically]
FLECK: What’s happened? What’s happened?
MAY’S VOICE: [hysterically] They’re showing The Simpsons!
KODAK: [looking upward] That’ll do for now.
The SOUND is cut.
KODAK: When you and me agree, and in five minutes we will,
you can speak to her again and tell her everything
will be fine from now on because you will
return to her tonight
after a new speech to the nations
you’ll make in half an hour, and you’ll be right
to tell her so. If you don’t, this picture shows what comes next.
KODAK holds out a photograph to FLECK who, after one glance, claps his hands over his eyes. KODAK says inexorably,
KODAK: Look again! You may find it hard to believe
that the woman and child in it are alive.
It’s astonishing what modern medicine can achieve.
FLECK: [shaking his head] You are evil. Obscene.
KODAK: [shrugging] Not really, though I know what you mean
I too love my family. Because I care for their welfare
I must persuade you –
[he hands FLECK a sheaf of typescript]
– to say these words
like you believe each one. It won’t be hard.
FLECK: [hoarsely] I must unsay the truths I told?
KODAK: Nope. Just their effects. You will say hot heads are wrong to think
the measures you advocate should be implemented fast.
They will be implemented, after some absolutely necessary delay
*********************************************************************
FLECK crouches on floor, left hand clutching right elbow, right hand clutching brow. He rocks to and fro slightly, muttering to himself.
FLECK: O God God. O God God. O God God.
GOD, looking like nobody special, approaches and squats beside him, with folded arms, smiling at him slightly.
GOD: You are worried, Mr Fleck.
FLECK ignores him.
GOD: [sighing] You are worried. Yes.
FLECK: [in agony to himself] I’m nothing. Nothing. I can do nothing.
GOD: You’re wrong about that.
FLECK: [noticing him] Eh?
GOD: You can give it all up.
FLECK: What do you mean?
GOD: Say goodbye to the lot.
FLECK: My wife? My child? O no.
GOD: Leave them.
FLECK: Try to save the world by sending them to hell?
GOD: You must leave the world and everything else as well.
FLECK: And the truth? And my honesty?
GOD: Keep those. Give up the rest.
FLECK stares at him, realises something, then slowly nods.
FLECK: Yes. That will be best. [asks himself again] But how?
GOD: The answer’s in your pocket…
FLECK feels in his side pocket.
GOD: …the breast pocket.
FLECK puts hand in breast pocket, finds something small and pats it, then smiles at GOD as if seeing Him for the first time
FLECK: Thanks! I know you now, you are –
GOD: [raising finger to his lips] Don’t say! Goodbye. [He vanishes]
NICK hurries in
NICK: Who was that?
FLECK: I thought you knew everyone.
NICK: In busy times like these some faces I forget.
Well – Professor Fleck – have you learned your speech yet?
FLECK: I need one last thing you will gladly do for me Nick,
because of the terrible mischief that will ensue.
NICK: [gleefully] Your wish is granted before you ask
because you! Are! A! Toff!
FLECK: When I next speak to the nations, don’t let them cut me off.
NICK: [puzzled] Will you damn May and your kid to a living death?
FLECK: No.
NICK: Or go out of your way to encourage utopian dreams?
FLECK: Just do what I say.
NICK: [almost pleading] Give me a hint of what you mean to do!
FLECK grabs him by the forearms and violently shakes him saying
FLECK: I must be seen! And heard! For three minutes by every nation
and that is what you have got to promise me! Promise me! Promise me!
NICK, enjoying the experience, giggles like a schoolgirl before FLECK releases him.
NICK: He he he! He he he! He he he he! [pulls himself together]
Amazing. I have only once been manhandled before,
in twenty nine Anus Domini.
Yes. Well. Three minutes I can guarantee.
John Fleck, you fascinate me more and more.
FLECK: Three minutes! Make sure of them.
NICK nods and leaves.
*********************************************************************
Epilogue
The blue curtain opens as in Prologue with same SOUND revealing the same three angels.
RAPHAEL: The sun star, glorious as ever,
bathes all his worlds in golden light,
still rolling round the galaxy
midst nebulae as vast and bright.
GABRIEL: Swift, unimaginably swift
the mighty earth is rolling too,
from darkness of profoundest night,
to skies celestially blue.
The voice of NICK is heard as he staggers drunkenly through the audience, singing loudly over the angels’ voices, until he mounts it.
GABRIEL: NICK:
While winds contest with ocean waves Fuck you all!
or drive them on like fleeing crowds Fuck you all!
against the base of granite cliffs Fuck you all!
whose summits penetrate the clouds – Fuck you all!
MICHAEL: NICK:
Storm clouds, whose snow and hail and rains Fuck you all!
in stream and cataract pour down Fuck you all!
to flood and irrigate the plains Fuck you all!
ensuring growth is nature’s crown – Fuck you all!
that seeds take root and creatures feed Fuck you all!
from humble worm to beast of pray Fuck you all!
while angels, heralding The Lord Fuck you all!
announce the dawning of His day! Fuck you all!
THE THREE TOGETHER: NICK:
While sounding colour glows and leaps Fuck you all!
twixt star and sun and world and moon Fuck you all!
God is the harmony that keeps Fuck you all!
all nature’s orchestra in tune! Fuck you all!
NICK collapses on centre stage, groaning and weeping.
GOD’s spotlight shines on him.
GOD: You are drunk, my friend. Sorry you lost our bet?
NICK: I can’t stand any more, and how the hell can you?
GOD: By always creating, always extending life
whose only rest is sleep or death
between storms of endless strife.
Poor Devil, you want peace
only possible if life would finally cease.
NICK: Let it cease! Why not?
Why stop me making the whole thing die?
Everyone ought to die!
GOD: [smiling] They always do.
NICK: Why must you keep creating them anew?
I loathe the screams of women giving birth.
GOD: I suffer with them. With them I recover.
The universe requires me, as her lover.
But that, of course, you know.
NICK: Yes! I am the bastard both of you cast out
in the Big Bang millions of years ago!
GOD: You left because you hated us, Old Nick.
NICK: Yes! I foresaw your foul arithmetic,
that multiplies the swarms of life on earth
with germs of every size, constantly giving birth.
All life is a disease I strive to cure.
Will you never let me stamp it out?
GOD: Love will not let me. Love was what drove Fleck
NICK: [yelling] To suicide?
GOD: He gave people hope that human greed
will not destroy the land they all need
to share and live upon in liberty –
NICK: [yelling] Equality? Fraternity?
Fool! Cretin! Idiot! Why not confess
the fight for these prolongs the human mess!
GOD: Fleck did not want the human race to end
and you, poor drunkard, only feel distress
because you came to feel he was your friend.
NICK: [weeping] My only friend!
GOD: [laughing] Apart, of course, from God!
NICK: You shit! You squirt of piss! You stinking sod!
You Nobodaddy, nastier than worms
infesting earth because you love their squirms!
GOD addresses his angels
GOD: My better children, come back to the sky
and there enjoy the better things we do.
Make life the loveliest form of energy
that every day creates the world anew.
Heaven closes. NICK pulls himself together.
NICK: [sighing] So God fucks off as usual, leaving the stage to me.
[With mock servility he cringes to the audience]
I hope this entertainment pleased you well.
It has no moral…
[Springs up, shaking fist and screaming]
…see you all in hell!
END
posted by Alasdair Gray at Wednesday, April 23, 2008
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