At the same time there is a bumping and groaning noise from the room, right, as if the body were being lowered on its wire.
When the light bulb has reached the Moor’s ceiling there is a tinkle, as if of glass breaking.
The Moor’s light stays on.
The Moor stays in the position of a statue.
Anderson, who has been watching the audience, goes to his stove and squats down in front of it. The stove has a door with a glass window in it. Anderson opens the door into the stove.
He takes from it a small pan which he carries over to a table, right, in the area of junk.
He puts down the pan. He switches on a light which hangs on a wire from the ceiling above the table.
The light in the Moor’s room goes out.
Anderson looks up: he seems to listen.
On the table in Anderson’s room there are some old-fashioned scientific instruments — a microscope, some slides, some glass retorts and rods. Anderson sits behind his table and takes a glass rod and dips it into the pan and mimes placing a drop of liquid on one of the slides. He pulls down the light on its wire above the microscope.
At the same time there is raised, on a hinge, the cover to the manhole into the street, top left. Anderson looks up.
Then there comes from the darkness of the room, right, the sound of a man’s voice, as if reciting poetry —
VOICE
— They have left me with no sound, no sight; No taste, no smell —
Anderson listens. Then he puts the slide under the microscope.
The voice continues.
— My arms so tight;
The bounds of hell —
Anderson puts his eye to the microscope.
On what seems to be the street-level at the very top of the structure a bright light comes on. (At this level there can be seen what look like the bottoms of buildings.)
On to this level there comes, from the right, a woman, Hortense. She wears shorts and a T-shirt and has a haversack on her back.
She looks over her shoulder apprehensively, as if someone has been following her.
Then she puts her haversack on the ground and stands with her back to the audience as if she were beside a road waiting for a lift.
Anderson looks up from his microscope. As he does this the light at the top of the structure becomes dim.
Hortense looks at the manhole, left.
Anderson stands. He pushes up, on its wire, the light that hangs above the microscope. As he does this, the manhole on the street closes. Hortense stares at it Then she comes to the front of the structure and looks over.
Then she goes to the manhole and tries to force her fingers into a crack to lift it up.
Anderson watches the audience.
Hortense goes to her haversack, opens it, and takes from it a frogman’s breathing apparatus, which she puts on.
Then she comes to the front edge of the top of the structure and looks over.
The light at street-level becomes watery. Anderson sits behind his table again and pulls down on its wire the light that hangs above the microscope. The cover of the manhole, behind Hortense, opens.
Hortense, through her frogman’s mask, stares at the audience.
After a time, from the darkness of the room, right, there comes the sound of flute music again — the sonata by Bach.
Anderson puts his eye to the microscope.
The light at street-level steadies and becomes clear.
Hortense goes to the manhole, the cover of which is now open, picks up her haversack, and still wearing her frogman’s apparatus, begins to climb down the ladder in the shaft on the left. When she reaches the first-floor level she puts an ear to the outside wall of the Moor’s room. From the darkness of the Moor’s room, left, there comes the sound of three loud thumps, or bangs, as if of some heavy object being hit against the floor.
The flute music stops.
Then there are three flashes as if of lightning, or gunfire, at the street-level above.
Hortense takes her ear away from the outer wall of the Moor’s room. She looks at the audience. Anderson looks up from his microscope.
The light at street-level becomes watery.
Hortense climbs on down the second ladder in the shaft on the left. When she comes to the lower level she puts down her haversack and rummages inside it.
Anderson gets up from the table and tip-toes to the wall of his room, left Outside this, Hortense has taken from her haversack what appears to be an electric drill. Then quickly, in mime, she seems to drill four holes in the outside wall of Anderson’s room.
Anderson looks at the audience.
Then he tip-toes back to his table. He looks down at it.
Hortense puts down her drill, takes from her haversack what appear to be four sticks of explosive, and pushes these into the holes. Then she turns her back to the wall and puts her fingers in her ears.
Silently, as if the whole thing were happening under water, there seems to be an explosion in the wall on the left — which blasts open, on a hinge, a blocked-up door into Anderson’s room. Hortense steps inside. She drags her haversack and equipment after her. Then she tries to shut the door, but it is as if she has to struggle against an inrush of water,
Anderson, who has been staring at the table, paying no attention to what has been happening on the left, pushes up the light on its wire above the table.
The manhole, top left, closes.
As if the inrush of water has ceased, Hortense is able to close the door into Anderson’s room. Inside the room, Hortense takes off her breathing apparatus. She mimes taking from her haversack equipment such as putty and a trowel with which she mimes sealing the door. Then, with her haversack, she goes behind the screens in Anderson’s room on the left.
After a time Anderson switches off the light above the table.
The light at street-level goes out.
Anderson comes to the front of his room and tries to see over the footlights.
After a time Hortense comes out from behind the screens in Anderson’s room. She has put on the clothes of a ballet dancer. She comes to Anderson’s table and looks at the table on which he has been doing his experiments.
HORTENSE
Who were you talking to —
ANDERSON
Myself —
HORTENSE
What did you say —
ANDERSON
I love you.
Hortense puts an eye to the microscope.
A faint light comes on in the upper room right. In this room there can be seen, dimly, the figure of the man, previously glimpsed hanging from the ceiling, now sitting on a bed; he is straight-backed, facing front. His arms are wrapped round him. He seems to be in a straitjacket.
Hortense takes her eye from the microscope.
The light in the upper room right fades.
ANDERSON
It has to be in the dark —
HORTENSE
Why —
ANDERSON
Or how would we find where to go?
HORTENSE
I heard you tapping.
ANDERSON
Wasn’t it rats —
HORTENSE
Wasn’t it music?
Hortense moves round the room. She seems to act —
— There were tanks in the street. There were children dying. When they came to the barricades against its soft grey walls they battered —
Anderson has sat on the bed. He speaks as if rehearsing her —
ANDERSON
— I said Jump —
HORTENSE
— I jumped —
ANDERSON
— Jump —
HORTENSE
— I jumped —
Hortense stops by the table, right She looks down at the instruments. She switches on the light above the table.
The light comes on dimly in the Moor’s room, left. He is still standing on one leg. He is leaning forwards, facing left, holding a heavy volume in
both hands, as if he were balancing, or were waiting to bang on the floor with the book Hortense picks up a glass rod from the table.
HORTENSE
Flat —
ANDERSON
Like that —
HORTENSE
Yes.
ANDERSON
With feeling?
Hortense moves away from the table holding the glass rod as if she were a water diviner. She acts —
HORTENSE
— There were tanks in the street. When they reached the Post Office building —
ANDERSON
Wait —
HORTENSE
I waited —
Upstairs the Moor, still on one leg, has opened his book and appears to be reading.
Hortense stops by the table again. She looks up at the ceiling.
HORTENSE
It comes back?
ANDERSON
On the underground river —
HORTENSE
Of pain —
ANDERSON
Of deprivation.
Hortense looks down at the instruments on the table.
HORTENSE
You go out of a —
ANDERSON
Mouth —
HORTENSE
Along a —
ANDERSON
Corridor —
HORTENSE
Into an —
ANDERSON
Anus?
Hortense leaves the table. She goes into the area of junk, back right, and rummages. Then she comes to the front of the structure carrying what seem to be old theatrical props — a radio, a fur coat, a curtain, a gas-mask She throws these over the edge of the structure, by the footlights. Then she squats down and pokes at them with her rod.
ANDERSON
You can’t make a home —
HORTENSE
Why not?
ANDERSON
Till they’re ready.
Anderson watches her. He seems to quote —
— Furry friends came to visit me —
HORTENSE
— Dancing girls in red and brown —
ANDERSON
— Till we’re all in one room —
HORTENSE
— Like a telephone box.
Hortense is poking about with her glass rod at the props she has put by the footlights. She seems to be making them into a nest.
ANDERSON
Come along then —
HORTENSE
Coop, coop —
Upstairs, the Moor has closed his book and placed it carefully on the floor. He straightens, and puts his foot on the book He balances: as if on a tightrope.
ANDERSON
Hoop —
HORTENSE
Hoopla —
ANDERSON
Upsadaisy —
The Moor turns, quickly, as if on a tightrope, one foot behind the other.
He is now facing his stove again.
Then there is heard again from the room in darkness, right, the flute sonata by Bach.
Anderson looks up. Then he gestures to Hortense, urgently.
Hortense goes to the area of junk, right, and rummages.
The Moor, upstairs left, has taken another book from his pile and is leaning forward with it, facing his stove, balanced on one leg, as if he would place the book in front of him to step on; or bang the ground with it.
Anderson lies on his back on the bed and unscrews the inspection plate of the flue-pipe. Hortense comes back from the area of junk with a set of plumber’s cleaning rods. She hands one to Anderson on the bed.
Anderson pushes it up the flue-pipe.
The Moor, leaning forward, bangs three times on the floor with his book.
The flute music stops.
Anderson becomes still.
Hortense sits on the edge of the bed, as if dejected.
HORTENSE
It’s all in your head —
ANDERSON
— Your pretty head —
HORTENSE
Your tongues like music.
The Moor places his book gently on the ground. After a time Anderson leaves his rod sticking up the flue-pipe and leans back on his bed.
HORTENSE
Can’t you —
ANDERSON
What —
HORTENSE
Send out a dove?
ANDERSON
Put it in a bottle?
Hortense comes to the front of the structure and looks down at her nest of props. She seems to quote —
HORTENSE
— On a dark night, just down from the trees —
ANDERSON
— Have you got water and oil? —
The Moor, upstairs, balancing, puts his foot down, carefully, on the book which is between him and the stove.
Hortense tries to see up to the upper level.
HORTENSE
— He said, don’t push me dear —
ANDERSON
— I’m peeing.
Hortense looks at the audience.
HORTENSE
Why don’t they —
ANDERSON
What —
HORTENSE
Tap.
ANDERSON
They’d rather have music?
Hortense looks down at her nest.
Upstairs, the Moor has taken another book from one of his piles. He stands in front of his stove, holding it.
Hortense and Anderson seem to intone —
HORTENSE
— Is there anything else you can’t —
ANDERSON
— Do what you like —
HORTENSE
— Can’t —
ANDERSON
— Do you what like —
They wait: then speak in ordinary voices —
HORTENSE
Think of something else —
ANDERSON
What —
HORTENSE
Little wriggly things —
ANDERSON
With moustaches?
Upstairs, the music is heard again from the room, right.
Anderson quickly gets himself into position under the flue-pipe. He pushes a rod up.
Hortense hands him a second section of rod: he screws this on to the end of the other.
Upstairs the Moor, facing his stove, has raised the book that he is carrying in both hands.
Anderson pushes the two lengths of rod up the flue-pipe. He probes, delicately, at the underside of the lid of the Moor’s stove.
The Moor watches the lid of his stove with his book raised.
Hortense climbs on to the bed and sits straddling Anderson; as if to steady him — or to make love. The lid of the Moor’s stove is raised by the top of Anderson’s rods. It wobbles, then falls off. The top of Anderson’s rod sticks up through the Moor’s stove and moves this way and that like a snake, or a periscope.
Anderson, directly underneath the Moor’s stove, appears to have put his eye to the bottom of the rods.
The Moor brings his book down, heavily, on the top of the rods.
It is as if the bottom of the rods were driven through Anderson’s eye.
Hortense, on top of him, throws her head back as if in pain — or having an orgasm.
All the lights go out.
The music stops.
After a time, a bright light comes on in the upper room, right.
This room is white-tiled; as if in a hospital, or a madhouse.
There is just a bed, with no sheets or blankets, against the wall at the back.
On the bed there is the man previously glimpsed, Dionysus, sitting facing front, wearing a straitjacket.
There is the lamp-wire from the ceiling hanging down in a loop above his head.
High up in the wall, right, there is what seems to be a boarded-up grille, or skylight, to the disused shaft, right.
On the left there is a hole, dirty, halfway up the central partition, where the flue-pipe from the Moor’s stove comes out.
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(This hole, owing to the central partition, some of the audience in the left half have difficulty in seeing; just as the other half have some difficulty in seeing where the Moor’s flue-pipe goes into the wall on the right.)
Dionysus gazes out above the audience. Then he smiles.
DIONYSUS
Look!
He stands.
No hands!
Then he prances, in his straitjacket, sideways, to the left, like someone in a ballet; being careful to keep his front to the audience.
When he comes to the central partition, he puts his ear against the wall just behind the opening to the Moor’s flue-pipe and purses his lips by the hole as if he were playing a flute.
Then he straightens.
It comes in here —
He looks up at the boarded-up grille, or skylight, top right.
Goes out there —
He looks at the audience.
Or does it.
After a time he prances, still taking care to keep his front to the audience, to the wall, right, where he stands underneath the skylight.
Sometimes they put a pea in it.
He looks up at the boarded-up skylight.
I’m a bird. I’m a camel —
He opens his mouth.
Then he looks at the audience.
I don’t want to be forcibly fed.
Then he prances back to his bed, taking care to keep his front turned to the audience.
He stands in front of the bed.
I’ve got this method, see, of getting up to the ceiling. I put my head through that noose. Then after a time — Hooray! I see such visions!
Catastrophe Practice Page 17
