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decisions, decisions.

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Literature Text

[We’re in a coffee shop; center stage is our heroine, Christina. She’s dressed in your typical coffee shop attire for this time of year: scarf, hat, coat, and reading a book. Downstage, a man wearing a sandwich board proclaiming “WE’RE ALL DEAD, THIS IS THE END” wanders past, looking as though he’s just going through the motions.

 

Shortly after the man disappears, a fellow dressed in a smart black suit with a red tie appears and enters the coffee shop--this is Damien. For extra effect, rose or red-tinted teashade glasses could do wonders. He’s got a briefcase with him. For a moment, he inspects the place, and then, spotting Christina, heads over to her table.]

 

DAMIEN.

            Ah, excuse me--

 

CHRISTINA.

            Yes?

 

DAMIEN.

            Is this seat taken?

 

CHRISTINA.

            Well, no, but--

 

DAMIEN.

            Fantastic.

 

CHRISTINA.

            --but I’m rather occupied with my book.

 

DAMIEN.

            Wrong book to be occupied with at the moment, I’m afraid.

 

CHRISTINA.

            What?

 

DAMIEN.

            Listen, I’m really sorry to interrupt, but I’ve got to talk to somebody and we are running out of time. The world’s ending, you see.

 

CHRISTINA.

            Oh, for pity’s--

 

DAMIEN.

            I know, I know, it sounds crazy, but even as we speak the entirety of Europe is sinking into the ocean, and the Kraken’s attacking Japan. As in all of Japan. As in literally swinging at the islands themselves.

 

CHRISTINA.

            Look, whatever you’re selling, I’m not interested, pal. I’m just trying to enjoy a cup of coffee and my book, okay? Buzz off.

 

DAMIEN.

            You don’t understand--

 

CHRISTINA.

            You really expect me to believe that Europe is sinking into the ocean? Really? Is this some kind of morbid pick up scheme?

 

DAMIEN.

            Ah, hell. [he pulls a remote control from his coat pocket.] Does this place have a television?

 

CHRISTINA.

            You know what? I’ll find somewhere else--

 

[Damien points the remote out at the audience; we hear the sound of static and then a Newscaster speaking from somewhere overhead.]

 

NEWSCASTER.

            It’s an awful, incredible phenomenon the likes of which we’ve never seen, John. The entire continent of Europe has descended into the ocean, drowning millions in the process, and now we’re getting reports California’s been beset by some kind of horrifying meteor storm--

 

[Damien clicks the remote again; Christina looks horrified.]

 

CHRISTINA.

            All those people--but--

 

[The man with the sandwich board zooms back across the stage, cheering gleefully.]

 

            It’s really--but--oh my god--

 

DAMIEN.

            Right, that’s what I was trying to tell you! It’s the end of the world!

 

CHRISTINA.

            But--my family! My family’s going to--

 

DAMIEN.

            Well, not to worry, if you’ll calm down for ten seconds--

 

CHRISTINA.

            Calm down?! Everyone I know and love is going to die in some kind of apocalypse! I’m going to die horribly! Why the hell would I be calm?!

 

[There’s a thunderous bang from outside, and the sound of glass shattering.]

 

DAMIEN.

            Do you happen to love or be in love with any rapists, murderers, misers, extreme racists, terrorists, or members of the Westboro Baptist Church?

 

CHRISTINA.

            No…

 

DAMIEN.

            Are you any of those things yourself?

 

CHRISTINA.

            No!

 

DAMIEN.

            Then you should be fine, as will your friends and family.

 

CHRISTINA.

            But all those people in Europe--

 

DAMIEN.

            Those being kept were collected ten minutes before the flood began.

 

CHRISTINA.

            I don’t understand.

 

DAMIEN.

            Oh, you know, the Rapture? Come on, surely you’re picking this up. This is the apocalypse, madam, the Book of Revelations? Seventh seal? Four fellows on horses? Well, two fellows, a lady and one of them who’s always hidden in their robe so we can’t even tell--

 

CHRISTINA.

            I’m not even a believer!

 

DAMIEN.

            And?

 

CHRISTINA.

            And--aren’t we supposed to--you know--

 

 

DAMIEN.

            What, go to Hell? You, for example, leave out cat food for the strays in your neighborhood, while your pastor kicks them for fun. What are we supposed to do, toss everyone in the lake of fire and call it a day? You all fell short of the original guidelines. That’s what they sent the other guy down here for--anyone who’s not explicitly abhorrent gets to come upstairs.

 

CHRISTINA.

            How did you know about the cats?! Who are you?

 

DAMIEN.

            [hands her a business card] Damien Tenebres.

 

CHRISTINA.

This says you’re a demon!


DAMIEN.

Demon, angel--we’re all cut from the same cloth. I happened to be on Earth, on my way to corrupt a world leader when I got asked to go ahead and do the audit. Workflow efficiency, that sort of thing. 

 

CHRISTINA.

            What audit?

 

DAMIEN.

            Well, we’re trying to decide what parts of you to keep. After the wipe, you know?

 

CHRISTINA.

            I...I don’t understand any of this.

 

DAMIEN.

            [exasperated] Okay, look, I’m going to break this down into modern terms. God, who is your system administrator, has decided that the whole mess is too much to clean and therefore he’s electing to do a system wipe. Boom. Gone. All that data, scoured clean off the hard drive so he can start anew. Except we’re saving some of that data--you, and everyone else gathered up in the Rapture--so we’re shuffling you all onto a cosmic flash drive to be retrieved and reintroduced later on. With me so far?

 

[Christina nods, numbly.]

 

            Good. Now, I was sent to survey some people beforehand to get their opinion on human nature, because when we--when we reboot the whole thing, we want you guys to do a better job of it, alright? We’re trying to get the formula down. So I need, Christina, to ask you a few questions about the whole of human nature.

 

[A long beat.  The sound of intermittent chaos outside gets louder.]

 

CHRISTINA.

            That’s...fine. Sure. Go ahead, I guess.

 

DAMIEN.

            Great!

 

[He reaches into his briefcase, and pulls out a piece of paper with a picture of a heart on it. A couple backs onto the stage, pantomiming confusion. Damien takes out his remote and points it at them; they freeze.]

 

            Okay, so, we’ve been watching you guys for a while--both sides, demons and angels, so on--and we’ve noticed that you guys have really complicated romantic rituals, am I right?

 

CHRISTINA.

            What have you done to those people?!

 

DAMIEN.

            Universal remote. I needed an example.

 

CHRISTINA.

            But they’re--

 

DAMIEN.

            They’re fine, and I’m going to let them go as soon as we’ve covered the question. Seriously, I need you to focus, Christina. Over here!  Complicated romantic rituals, yes, no, maybe so?

 

CHRISTINA. 

            Yeah, I guess…

 

DAMIEN.

            The thing is, that leads to a lot of hurt, and in turn a lot of what we might politely refer to as crimes of passion, am I right?

 

[He clicks the remote again, and the woman pantomimes leaving the man, who appears distraught.]

 

CHRISTINA.

            Well--

 

DAMIEN.

            So would you agree that maybe we should just skip the romance and switch you guys over to basic breeding instincts?

 

[She returns to him, and they immediately begin lustily pawing at each other.]

 

CHRISTINA.

            What? No!

 

DAMIEN.

            Doesn’t that seem easier?

 

CHRISTINA.

            It might seem easier, but at that point we’re just animals! There’s no spark, no love in it! We’d just be screwing. An entire race of one night stands!  I mean, for some people that’s okay, but some of us like commitment. Affection. [A beat.] Even if we get mixed in with the people who don’t, that’s still a risk you should be allowed to take. What kind of question is that?

 

DAMIEN.

Huh. So the romantic aspect is important, you’d say?

 

CHRISTINA.

[with a pointed stare] It’s part of being human, yes!

 

[Damien clicks the remote again; as the sounds of chaos in the distance grow louder, the man and woman flee offstage.]

 

DAMIEN.

 Fair enough. [tucks the sheet back into his briefcase.] We’ve got to keep things moving, you’re due for collection in about...oh, five or ten minutes.

 

CHRISTINA.

            Is--is it going to hurt?

 

DAMIEN.

            What? No. Why would that hurt? You’re going to sleep until you get to Heaven. Your soul gets to hang out for a few years, mingle with your loved ones, and then we’re going to put you all back when we get the new system ready to go.

 

CHRISTINA.

            With romance, right?

 

DAMIEN.

            Yes, with romance. Just remember: when the New World has soap operas despite my best efforts, we’re all going to blame you.  [taps his briefcase] Come on, we’ve got to keep going. I’ve got two or three more critical points I need your opinion on.

 

CHRISTINA.

            Like what?

 

DAMIEN.

            Well--politics, for example.

 

[As Damien removes a paper with a large dollar sign on it from his briefcase, a man in a suit starts fleeing across the stage, followed by a poorer fellow begging for help. The richer man cruelly disregards him.]

 

            More specifically, the politics of wealth and the distribution of it, which I understand is a massive issue among you folks. Am I right?

 

CHRISTINA.

            Well, yes…

 

DAMIEN.

            So what if we just tugged out that particular wiring so that everyone agreed on one course of action, always?

[He points his remote at the pair and clicks; they immediately shake hands, and the rich fellow begins counting out bills.]

 

CHRISTINA.

            What? No! That’s a terrible idea.

 

[Damien pauses the action.]

 

DAMIEN.

            You’re saying people should be allowed to violently disagree? Don’t you understand how many wars that’s caused?

 

CHRISTINA.

            But how many incredibly stupid things would we have done as a whole if nobody ever stood up and went “hey, this is kind of a dumb move”?

 

DAMIEN.

            How many times has that stopped you?

 

CHRISTINA.

            Sometimes is better than never.

 

DAMIEN.

            And you’re saying this sort of conflict is necessary for progress?

 

CHRISTINA.

            Sort of. I mean, I guess we could avoid being such utter jerks. Could you leave that part out?

 

DAMIEN.

            I think it’s all the same part of you, honestly. Disagreement, warmongering--you gotta ask yourself, is it worth it?

 

[A beat.]

 

CHRISTINA.

            I don’t see us getting anywhere in the next life if we all just rush in one direction. I know we get violent, but without disagreement, it would just take one stupid person to spoil the whole thing.

 

DAMIEN.

            If you say so.

 

[He unpauses the action, and the men resume their conflict, both hurrying offstage in the process.]

 

            Alright, well, we’re running out of time going back and forth about this, so, here--last major one. Art.

 

[He brings out a piece of paper with a large paintbrush on it as a person hauls a massive canvas on stage, apparently trying to take it with them.]

 

CHRISTINA.

            Art?

 

DAMIEN.

            Art. Poetry, music, visual art, theater, movies, you name it. As in, do we keep it?

 

CHRISTINA.

            What are you talking about? Of course we keep it!

 

DAMIEN.

            Why? Humanity says they want it, but hardly anybody pays for it and producing it seems to kill more of you than it does make you rich. I mean, some of you guys take the term “starving artist” literally. Wouldn’t people be better off without that instinct to waste time splattering paint and ink everywhere?

 

[The person makes a show of dropping the canvas and book, and begins to leave the stage.]

 

CHRISTINA.

            I keep forgetting you’re a demon.

 

[Damien sighs and pauses the action.]

 

DAMIEN.

            What does that have to do with anything?

 

CHRISTINA.

            That’s the only reason I can think of for you to say something like that.

 

DAMIEN.

I’d like to note this would also mean the death of coffeeshop poets and people who say things like “I hate this because it’s popular.

 

CHRISTINA.

The answer is still no. Yes, some people suffer for their art,

 

DAMIEN.

And anyone who listens to boy bands suffer because of it--

 

CHRISTINA.

--but that doesn’t mean it’s not important for God’s--

 

[Damien visibly flinches.]

 

--Pete’s sake, sorry. I mean, I’m an artist. I do graphic design! Art is the great communicator. It’s a huge part of how we show our emotions, thoughts, ideas, feelings! It’s how we get them out! It’s how we share them!

 

DAMIEN.

            Well, actually, those were next on the--

 

CHRISTINA.

            Don’t even think about it! Jesu--

 

[Damien flinches again, as if struck.]

 

            --sorry again--but it seems like you’re trying to completely change who we are, here. I’m sorry, but art stays.

 

[Damien unpauses the action; the person laboriously retrieves their belongings and flees the stage.]

 

DAMIEN.

            [resignedly recording the result] Alright, art stays.

 

 

CHRISTINA.

            You keep trying to yank out things that make us who and what we are.

 

DAMIEN.

            Primarily because these things only seem to cause you people grief. I mean, look where you guys are--the whole place is getting reformatted and according to what I’ve got here, you want things to be the exact same. We might as well have not sunk Europe into the ocean.

 

CHRISTINA.

            I don’t think we’re so bad. I mean, look at the things we’ve achieved!

 

DAMIEN.

            The Crusades?

 

CHRISTINA.

            Shakespeare.

 

DAMIEN.

            The Holocaust.

 

CHRISTINA.

            The Louvre!

 

DAMIEN.

            9/11.

 

CHRISTINA.

            We cured polio, and smallpox!

 

DAMIEN.

            One Direction.

 

CHRISTINA.

            Cheap shot. We’re sorry, okay?

 

DAMIEN.

            Look, all I’m saying is, if we go by what you’re saying, how are we supposed to guarantee this won’t all happen again? All the wars, all the killing, all the cruelty.

 

CHRISTINA.

            We can’t guarantee that, but that’s still a better option than making us robots who can’t think for ourselves.

 

DAMIEN.

            I mean, the human soul is a mess. It’s all over the place.

 

CHRISTINA.

I know that. I know we’re all crazy--I mean, as a race, we’ve bombed the hell out of a country and then sent relief packages in later. We’ve sneered at bums on the street and then donated to charities for kids in Africa. We’ve turned out porn and Shakespeare and poetry and racist manifestos--but that’s the beauty of it! We’ve had the potential to do those things. Without that, none of it would have ever happened, including the good things!

 

DAMIEN.

Fine, fine. I’ll sign off on this and get it turned in.

 

[He places the papers back in the briefcase, and puts the remote away.]

 

Gotta be honest--if it were up to me, you’d get a redesign with less variance in behaviors.

 

CHRISTINA.

            It’s a good thing it’s not up to you, then, and up to us.

 

DAMIEN.

            You.

 

CHRISTINA.

            What?

 

DAMIEN.

            Just you. I only had time to interview one person.

 

[A long beat.]

 

CHRISTINA.

            Did I just decide the future of the human race?

 

DAMIEN.

            Yes, you did. You decided to keep them as they are, much to my vague disappointment.

 

CHRISTINA.

But--just my opinion--

 

DAMIEN.

In either case, you won’t have that weight on you for long.

 

[The sounds of chaos in the distance are getting louder, and the people who came across the stage all flee toward the other side, shouting.]

 

            Collections are here. Alright, Christina, it was nice talking to you.

 

CHRISTINA.

            Should I--I don’t know, get under a table or pray or something?

 

DAMIEN.

            If it makes you feel better. Doesn’t matter one way or the other--it’s the end of the world, after all.

 

[He waves his briefcase. The sounds of chaos are much louder now.]

 

            Okay, I’m out of here. [checks his watch] As are you, actually.

 

CHRISTINA.

            Ame--

 

[Lights out.]

 

 

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                             

 

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