by M J Dees
“I don’t mind,” said Ozli’s mother. “Zarah, I hope that your beauty is the happy cause of Ozli’s behaviour and that you can bring him back his sanity.”
“I hope so,” said Zarah.
Ozli’s mother left the hall.
“Zarah, come over here,” said Kellen. “We will hide. I hear him coming. Let’s go, sir.”
Kellen and the President left Zarah alone in the centre of the hall while they hid.
“Should I just end it all?” Ozli muttered as he approached the entrance to the great hall with Sevan.
“You surely don’t mean that.”
“Why should I put up with the insult I have had to suffer every time I see him with my mother?”
“Or you could fight back?
“I’m so tired, Sevan, the long sleep of death would be such a relief right now.”
“Don’t be silly, what makes you think anything would be better after death?”
“Our people believe in the better place, a dream world after death.”
“How do you know that dream won’t be a nightmare?”
“I think that’s why more don’t kill themselves, Sevan. They worry too much about what might happen in the better place and whether it would be better at all. Thinking too much stops us from acting.”
“Then stop thinking and act.”
Ozli stopped.
“There is Zarah. Would you excuse me, Sevan? I would like to speak with her alone.”
“I’ll catch up with you later. I’ll see if I can find some pish.”
“Ozli, how are you?” said Zarah as he approached.
“Very well, thank you.”
“I have a gift of yours I wished to return.”
“I haven’t given you anything,” said Ozli.
“You know you did,” said Zarah. “And you delivered it with the sweetest words.”
“Are you telling the truth?” Ozli laughed.
“What do you mean?”
“Are you beautiful?”
“What do you mean, Ozli?”
“If you are honest and beautiful, then your honesty should have nothing to do with your beauty.”
“Does beauty appeal more than honesty?”
“Beauty has the power to make up for honesty, but honesty struggles to make up for beauty. I loved you once.”
“You made me believe you did.”
“You should not have believed me because I did not love you.”
“You fooled me.”
“Why don’t you join the maidens of the better place in their sanctuary of devotion? Better than begatting evil offspring. I am moderately honest, it would have been better if my co-beggetter had not begotton me. I am proud, revengeful, ambitious with more wrongs than I care to remember. I have more terrible ideas than time to act them out. Trust no-one, Zarah, join the order of the maidens of the better place. Where is your begetter?”
“In his chambers.”
“Then shut the door of his chambers so he can’t play the fool anywhere but in his own space. Goodbye.”
“Oh, Guardian of the Better Place, please help poor Ozli.”
“If you form a union one day, Zarah, I will give you a plague as a gift. Better that you remain pure as the maidens in the order. Go to their sanctuary, Zarah, go! Goodbye. Or would you rather make a union with a fool? Go to the sanctuary, quickly, goodbye!”
“Oh, Guardian of the better place, restore Ozli to his previous self.”
“You pretend that your immorality comes from ignorance. Go to that sanctuary.”
Ozli turned and left.
“What has happened to him,” cried Zarah. “In line for the presidency... I believed his advances and now he has left me ruined. I wish I had not heard what I just heard.”
Kellen and the President emerged from their hiding place.
“He didn’t seem in love,” said the President. “And although his words were a little odd, he didn’t seem mad. There is something wrong, something which is bothering him, and in case the result might be some danger, I have a plan to prevent any problems. I will catapult him to the space station Tomorrow to negotiate a peace with Barnes and the Corporation. Perhaps the journey and the sights he will experience on the way will settle him. What do you think?”
“It’s a splendid idea,” said Kellen. “I still think the origin of his grief came from neglected love. Zarah, you needn’t tell us what Ozli said, we heard it all. You should do whatever you see fit, sir, but my advice would be that, after the Forbidden Theatre has performed, let his co-begetter encourage him to express his grief. Let her be honest with him, while I hide to listen in to their conversation. If she cannot understand the issue, then catapult him to Tomorrow, or send him wherever you think best.”
“I agree,” said the President. “Madness in the one in line for the presidency must not go unwatched.”
*
As the actors prepared for their performance, Ozli hung around observing and questioning them.
“Did you have time to learn the scene I wrote for you?” Ozli asked. “Perform it lightly, don’t be melodramatic. It needs to be smooth.”
“I will do so,” said the actor who looked like he wanted Ozli to leave him to get on with his preparations.
“Don’t be too soft though, use your discretion. It should look natural, both the words and the action. Just don’t overdo it. It is important that it makes the audience grieve, not laugh. You shouldn’t look like a robot.”
“I’ll try not to,” said the actor, wondering whether Ozli would teach his own co-begetters, co-begetter to suck Screrkroils’ birth sacks.
“Don’t let your actors improvise, it’s important they play the scene as I wrote it.”
While the actor tried to extricate himself from Ozli’s attention, Kellen Kader entered with Tafazolli and deWijs.
“Kader! Will the President watch the play?” Ozli asked.
“And your co-begetter,” said Kellen. “Will it start soon?”
“Yes,” said Ozli. “Tell them to hurry.”
Kellen left the hall.
“You too, get the actors to hurry,” Ozli asked his friends.
“Of course,” said Tafazolli.
“Sevan!” said Ozli, seeing his friend enter the hall.
“How is it going, Ozli?”
“Sevan, you are one of the most well-balanced individuals I have ever met.”
“I think you must have the wrong individual,” said Sevan.
“Don’t worry, I’m not flattering you so you’ll do a favour for me. I know you have no wealth except for your friendly spirits and you’ve never asked me for credits. You are not a slave to your passions like others. Sevan, they will perform a play for the President. I have asked them to perform a scene which mimics the method the President used to kill my father. When you see them perform it, observe the President and see whether his hidden guilt reveals itself. I will observe him too and afterwards we will compare what we have seen.”
“If he hides anything during this play,” said Sevan. “I will blame my own powers of detection.”
“They are ready to perform. I must pretend to be mad. Find yourself a suitable place.”
The President entered with Ozli’s mother, Kellen Kader, and Zarah. Tafazolli and de Wijs also took their places.
“How are you, Ozli?” asked the President.
“Excellent,” Ozli replied. “Kellen, you once tried your hand at acting, did you not?”
“I did. There were those who said I was good at it.”
“What did you act?”
“I played Smayn, they killed me at Zrugas. Syai killed me.”
“That was terrible of him. Are the actors ready?”
“Yes,” said Tafazolli. “They are waiting to be told they can start.”
“Watch next to me,” said Ozli’s mother.
“No, thank you my co-begetter. I much prefer the view from here.”
“Did you hear that?” said Kellen.
“Shal
l I move alongside you?” Ozli asked Zarah.
“No, thank you.”
“I won’t touch.”
“No, thank you.”
“Did you think I meant to reproduce?”
“I thought nothing of the sort.”
“It’s a fair thought.”
“What is?”
“Nothing.”
“Have you been on the pish?”
“Me?”
“Yes, you.”
“For the love of the Guardian of the Better Place, I’m the only joker here. What can you do if not be happy? Look how happy my co-begetter looks and my begetter only just dead.”
“Not only just.”
“Not just? A little longer then and still not forgotten. There’s hope a memory might outlive life by half a solar cycle. Let the play begin!”
CHAPTER 6: THE BLIND SPACESHIP
Two actors entered the performance space which they had constructed within the great hall. One actor was wearing a presidential-like seal and was saying goodbye to someone he apparently loved, a lover, or partner. He said his goodbyes and acted, making preparations in some kind of spaceship. While, at one side of the stage, the presidential figure pretended to fly his craft through space, on the other side of the stage, another scene began.
A strange and foreboding character summoned more actors onto the stage. These actors wore costumes which they had not made well but which they had designed to look like the uniform of the Republic's elite force, the mechanical bowmen. The sinister character pointed the bowmen in the spaceship's direction and then watched as the bowmen entered the spaceship and engaged in a ridiculously melodramatic fight with the presidential figure who, despite his best efforts, lost the fight. The bowmen removed the presidential-like seal and took it across the stage where they offered it to the sinister figure. They left together in melodramatic elation, leaving the still body of the presidential like figure lying on the stage. His lover, or partner, returned and mourned, melodramatically, over the loss of her love.
The sinister character returned with the bowmen and lifted the lover from her lover's body, which the bowmen removed from the stage. The sinister character pretended to console the lover but gave her gifts. She refused at first, but soon he won her over and she fell in love with the sinister character. They left the stage together.
“What was that about?” Ozli’s mother asked him.
“It is all about sneaky villainy,” said Ozli.
“What does this signify?” she persisted.
“We will find out,” said Ozli, as another actor approached the stage.
“Will he explain the meaning of the play?” asked Zarah.
“Yes, or at least show you.”
“For us and for our tragedy, stooping to your kindness, we beg you to listen patiently,” said the actor.
“What is this?” Ozli muttered.
“It’s short, Ozli,” said Zarah.
“Like your love.”
The actor, whose character had been murdered, returned to the stage with the lover.
“The planet has made its journey around the star thirty times,” he said. “Since we made our union.”
“So many journeys may the stars and planets make,” she said. “But you are not the same as you were, I have worried about you. But I promise that if anything happens to you, I shall never make a union with another.”
“Be careful what you promise,” he warned. “Promises are so easily broken. I must leave you soon and go on a journey in that blind spaceship. It is a perilous journey and you should not worry, but promise me if something happens to me, you will take another lover.”
“A curse be upon me if I had a second lover. If I love again, he would probably turn out to be your murderer. And then, every time we made our love, we would murder you again.”
“I’m sure you believe what you say, but I’m sure your mind would change if the moment arrived. Strong intentions never last because time makes us forget. Changing social conditions helps to change our emotions.”
“I swear, I will never make a union with anyone else if you were to leave me.”
“You swear deeply but the time has come for me to go, the blind spaceship awaits.”
“Come back to me soon, I am missing you already.”
The lover left the stage while the other pretended to fly the spaceship.
“How do you like the play?” Ozli asked his mother.
“She protests too much, I think,” she said.
“She'll keep her word,” said Ozli.
“What do they call this play?” asked the President.
“They call it The Blind Spaceship,” said Ozli. “The play is a metaphor for a murder committed in Puutol. Odubajo was his name, and N'Diaye was his lover. You shall see, we have a clear conscience. Here comes Mbokani, his nephew, dressed as a mechanical bowman.”
“You are as good as a narrator,” said Zarah.
“I could narrate your love, if I could see it.”
“My thoughts are black, I am ready, I have the tools and the time is right,” said the actor pretending to be Mbokani in his badly made mechanical bowman uniform. “This is a marvellous opportunity, the perfect time, we are unobserved. We will extinguish your disgusting life immediately.”
The mechanical bowmen attacked and then murdered the presidential figure.
“They have murdered him for his title and his property,” Ozli explained. “Odubajo is his name. The play still exists in Puutolese. You shall see how the murderer gets the love of N'Diaye.”
“What’s wrong with the President?” asked Zarah.
“Frightened by blank ammunition?” Ozli asked the President, who was already beginning to leave.
“Is everything okay?” Ozli’s mother asked the President.
“Stop the play,” ordered Kellen Kader.
“Turn up the lights, let’s go,” said the President, leaving the hall.
Ozli’s mother, Kellen, and Zarah followed him. Even Tafazoli, de Wijs and the actors fled, leaving Ozli and Sevan alone in the hall.
“I think we have wounded the beast,” said Ozli. “The message was right, the President is guilty. Did you see how he reacted?”
“I’m still only learning to perceive the emotions of gaseous beings,” said Sevan. “But the fact that he left so quickly suggests he wasn’t happy.”
“About the suggestion of murder?”
“Exactly.”
Tafazolli and de Wijs returned.
“Come, let us celebrate,” said Ozli. “If the President doesn’t like the comedy, then he doesn’t like it. Actors! Play some music!”
“May I have a word, Ozli?” asked de Wijs.
“Of course.”
“The President.”
“What about him?”
“He seems very disturbed.”
“He is mad?”
“With anger.”
“Why are you explaining this to me? I’m likely to make him even more angry.”
“Please be sensible, Ozli.”
“I am sensible.”
“You co-begetter is very upset, she asked me to come to you.”
“Welcome.”
“Ozli, if you explain what is going on, I can return and tell her. If not, I’ll return anyway.”
“I can’t.”
“Can’t what?” asked Tafazolli.
“Explain what’s going on,” said Ozli. “I am not well.”
“Your co-begetter says your behaviour astonishes her.”
“But her astonishment has no consequence?”
“She would like to speak with you in her private rooms.”
“Then, I will go.”
“Ozli, we were once friends.”
“We still are, Tafazolli.”
“Then tell me the cause of your illness. You may feel better if you share it with your friends.”
“I lack ambition.”
“You are next in line to the presidency.”
“Hmm. Ah! T
he music,” said Ozli, seeing the actors enter with musical instruments. “Can you play de Wijs?”
“No, sorry.”
“Go on.”
“I really can’t.”
“Please.”
“I’ve never played.”
“It’s easy. Look, here is the ultrasonic organ, you pump the air using this bellow.”
“But I cannot create a melody.”
“How about the gamma-ray bells, then? Or the gravity cello?”
The entrance of Kellen Kader interrupted Ozli.
“Kellen!” Ozli pretended it pleased him to see Kellen.
“Ozli, your co-begetter would like you to speak with her.”
Ozli moved over to a window.
“That cloud looks like a Trix'an.”
Kellen moved over to the window beside Ozli.
“You’re right, it looks like a Trix'an,” Kellen agreed.
“Actually, it looks more like a Grexut.”
“It could be a Grexut.”
“Or maybe an Ugreod.”
“It is very like an Ugreod.”
“I will go to my co-begetter soon.”
“I will tell her,” said Kellen as he left the hall.
Tafazolli and de Wijs followed him.
“I must go to my mother, Sevan. I feel like speaking violently to her, but I will use no violence. I will punish her just with my words.”
*
The President was in his private control room with Tafazolli and de Wijs.
“I don’t like him,” said the President. “It is not a good idea to let this madness continue. You will take him via the catapult system to the Tomorrow space station to negotiate on our behalf to end hostilities with the Corporation, I will send you detailed instructions. My position as President may not last, he is too dangerous to remain so close.”
“We will prepare,” said de Wijs. “For the sake of everyone who relies on your presidency.”
“There are many individuals dependent on the presidency,” agreed Tafazolli. “When a president dies, there are many people who suffer.”
“Safe journey,” said the President.
“We will be as quick as we can,” said Tafazolli, leaving with de Wijs.
No sooner had they left than Kellen Kader entered.
“Ozli is going to see his co-beggeter,” said Kellen. “I will hide myself in her rooms to hear the conversation. I imagine she’ll give him some strong criticism. I will report back.”
