The Glacier (13 page)

CHOIR

Death done sown my field! Death done sown my field! Whoa oh oh oh. Death done sown my field!

The crowd roars!

Then the lights shift and the music changes again. A techno beat pulsates through the hall. Stars fly around the circle of screens and the room is transformed into a giant disco ball.

White-faced waiters file from the wings, carrying service trays. Jonah and Simone branch off to serve plates of food to their respective tables.

Jonah carefully sets his heavy tray down on a tray-stand. He removes shiny silver plate-covers from his stack of meals as he sets them in front of the guests at his table. In his white-face and tuxedo, he's like a cybernetic mime, the thematic mood of the room transforming around him into a virtual space-scape of silver, black, and white light.

The guests dine beneath swirling galaxies, shooting stars, satellites, and New Age music. An orchestration of soothing and peaceful ambience, cosmic weightlessness, and gently clinking glasses, the transcendental comfort of consuming a civilized meal.

At his table, Robert eats his chicken. This chicken is outstanding. This is the best goddamn chicken that Robert has had in years.

He nods enthusiastically at his neighbor.

ROBERT

(his mouth full)

My god, this chicken is delicious. Good, huh?

Simone approaches the table and pours coffee.

ROBERT

Oh yes, please. Thank you.

Another seated Guest addresses the table.

STEWART

Hello everyone. My name is Stewart. I'm your table liaison and I'd like to welcome everyone. Is this anyone's first Last Supper? Anyone?

A woman, Helen, raises her hand eagerly.

HELEN

It's my first time.

STEWART

Would you like to share your name with the table?

HELEN

Helen.

STEWART

And maybe you'd like to tell us what brings you here today.

HELEN

Oh gosh. That's a big question.

A meteor whizzes by on a nearby screen.

STEWART

That's okay. It usually is. That's why we're all here.

HELEN

Well, everything used to be different, didn't it?

GUEST 1

Mm hmm.

She gets affirmations from the table.

GUEST 2

Oh, yes, it did.

HELEN

(assertively)

I mean something has happened. Am I right? I mean, am I crazy?

GUEST 3

I guess you could say we're all a little crazy, Helen.

Robert observes them pensively.

HELEN

I can tell you what I remember. It was morning. I was standing in the kitchen. At the kitchen window. The one above the sink. I had made coffee. And I was making toast. I was standing at the kitchen sink and the toast was toasting. And just as I looked out the window the smell of that fresh toast hit me like a freight train. It was like, BLAMMO! And there was a flash of white light that just whited out everything entirely. Just blind-sided me. So if you can imagine that one minute I'm standing at my own kitchen sink and in the next moment I am completely overtaken and blinded by white light and the smell of fresh toast.

Robert and the table are pretty rapt. Even Simone who had been pouring coffee is listening intently.

HELEN

But it's the next moment… The flash of light is gone and my eyes readjust to the daylight. And I can see everything so
clearly
. Everything. The wallpaper is gone. The
walls
are gone. The kitchen is just plumbing and pipes and wires and all the appliances are like these grotesque robots that have had their skin peeled off. And it was like I had x-ray vision! And then I hear this little clicking sound coming across the linoleum and it's a sound I recognize but for some reason I can't quite place it until I look down and realize that it was my little dog that had come clicking his toenails into the kitchen like normal—of course I know that sound!—but
now
he is just this quivering, shivering mass of nerves and tendons and
brains
. And that's just about the limit of it right there, I can tell you, with his disgusting little eyeballs protruding out of his skull sockets. And I wish it were the limit of it. But it's not, because I rush outside to get some air and just vomit all over the front walk. And when I look up, and I'm wiping my mouth off…

As she speaks, thousands of guests at their tables are manipulating food into their mouths with utensils. Underneath the tables, thousands of legs and feet, chaotically arranged, all unique, yet all somehow of the same animal. And from high above, the tables form a pattern of dots arranged in concentric circles.

HELEN

The whole neighborhood has been peeled away. I am seeing everything as this horrendous massiveness of pipes and cables and wires and the frames of houses and all the stuff inside all the damn houses, excuse me, and the
people
in there with all of their guts and everything else inside of them. And I look down at myself, finally, and I am the same way, Jesus God. Like a fat cow in a science diagram or something. And everything within my entire field of vision is sort of moving. Like vibrating. It was like a
feeling
that I could
see
. Just the
parts
of everything
together
. That was the feeling. Like the way that, if you've ever done this, if you look at too many
eggs
all in the same place. Or
swarms of things
. Like… bees!

At her table, the guests are all watching her and listening, entranced if not bemused. She slows down, contemplatively, wringing the story.

HELEN

So I turn to run back inside, as if there's anywhere in the hell to run. Excuse me. And when I get to the front porch, I look back, and everything is normal again. But different. Everything is familiar. But foreign. It's all become the same again, and, somehow, well…
foreign
. I don't know exactly how to explain it. I just don't know how I can trust it anymore. I try. But I just can't. It's like we're all foreigners.

Robert shifts uneasily in his chair.

STEWART

You are a very brave woman, Helen. Welcome. Any other first-timers here tonight?

Stewart looks around the table.

Reluctantly, Robert raises his hand.

STEWART

Welcome.

ROBERT

Thanks. I, uh… My name is Robert. And honestly I don't really have any idea how I got here. I—

He furrows his brow and thinks deeply. His life, his memory, his remorse welling up from his gut and into his throat.

ROBERT

Could you pass the butter, please?

He receives the butter.

ROBERT

Thank you.

Robert slowly butters his roll.

The table watches and waits for him to say more, but Robert fills the vacuum of expectation by eating his dinner roll, laboriously chewing and swallowing until he is finished and has nothing more to say.

Simone is staring at the floor with her pitcher of coffee hanging at her side. A few tables away, Jonah sees her staring off into downward space, catatonically.

STEWART

Well we all have to forgive ourselves, don't we?

ROBERT

I suppose so.

SIMONE

For what?

The guests at the table all turn to look at Simone.

STEWART

I'm sorry?

SIMONE

What do we have to forgive ourselves for?

STEWART

I don't think this is appropriate.

SIMONE

I just want to know what we have to forgive ourselves for.

Stewart looks around the room for some kind of help.

Robert speaks to Simone.

ROBERT

It's okay.

SIMONE

No, it's not okay. Don't you feel that something is really not okay?

ROBERT

Yes, of course, but… there's nothing we can do about that.

HELEN

That's why we're all here, sweetie. Do you want to sit down?

STEWART

Helen!

SERVER 1

What's going on here?

Another server in white-face has approached the table.

HELEN

Everything's okay.

SERVER 2

Was she interrupting your table?

STEWART

Yes, but it's okay now.

SERVER 3

It's not okay. Not if she interrupted the Event.

Simone is surrounded by white-faced servers. And more are crowding in. She stares at the table.

SERVER 4

Who interrupted the Event?

SERVER 5

She did.

He points at Simone.

SERVER 6

How could you do that?

SERVER 7

You've ruined it.

SERVER 8

Why would you intentionally disrupt the experience for the guest?

SERVER 9

Because she is
selfish
.

Simone is staring at the table.

The guests are staring at her.

And the lynch mob of servers are staring into the camera.

SIMONE

I don't feel so good. I think I have to go. I'm sorry. Here's your coffee.

She sets the coffee pot down on the table and leaves.

From a few tables away, Jonah watches her go as she crosses the room toward an exit, but he is interrupted. The lights in the room fade to a deep red. A deep wave of sound swells around him, servers exit the space and the guests are restless with anticipation.

In a far corner of the hall, a spotlight snaps on, revealing Mr. Stevens' face, shining and slick, beaming in the light of show business. He wears a microphone headset and sings a devilish melody, a cappella.

MR. STEVENS

(singing)

If I had ever been here before I would probably know just what to do. Don't you?

A hushed murmur rolls across the tables as the guests turn in their seats.

MR. STEVENS

(singing)

If I had ever been here before on another time around the wheel I would probably know just how to deal.

(speaking)

Ladies and Gentlemen… Welcome to the Last Supper.

The spotlight snaps off.

The crowd applauds excessively.

A droning sitar rises from the sound-system. A throbbing, hypnotic drumbeat. A stream of waiters flows into the room. They wear executioner hoods and carry service trays full of shot glasses. The shot glasses are filled with an orange liquid.

Shot glasses are placed on the tables, one in front of each guest. Robert regards the tiny dessert with a leery eye.

Storm clouds roll across the screens. Thunder and lightning.

Mr. Stevens appears in another part of the room in a brooding, stormy light.

MR. STEVENS

Friends, we have a bad habit. And tonight we're going to break that habit. We have been infused with a false belief. For centuries we have accepted an erroneous assumption that when Adam and Eve ate of the Tree of Knowledge they were cast out of the Garden, abandoned by God and expelled from paradise. Well, I simply cannot accept this nefarious claim. I don't believe it!

He walks slowly between the tables, preaching like a post-apocalyptic Willy Wonka. He wears a shiny silver suit.

MR. STEVENS

And I am here to reaffirm what each and every one of you already knows in your hearts. We are home. The Garden is growing right in our own backyard. Divine intelligence is coursing through our veins! The fruit is ours to enjoy! And the mountaintop is where we stand because we
belong
here! So do not be afraid.

A woman is weeping, quietly. He takes her hand.

MR. STEVENS

Now there is one character in the Garden who has been ignored. This ignorance has been a source of agitation for a great many years and by now he's a little more than irritated. To get right down to it, he's just plain mad. He's all tied in a knot and he's been causing some problems. Lying, cheating, thieving. They accuse him. If only he'd just quiet down! Oh yes, he's quite a little trickster. Acting like a fool. Speaking in gibberish and silly rhymes. We can't understand him! He talks like a child! Ah, but if only they had paid attention. If only they had listened.

He puts his hand to his ear and listens.

The audience is rapt and silent.

Mr. Stevens hears a pin drop.

MR. STEVENS

Well here I am. Ladies and Gentlemen. Say hello to Mr. Snake! Because here I am!

The crowd goes wild.

Mr. Stevens runs to the center of the room and takes the stage, his silver suit sparkling and glistening in full light.

Applause evolves into a rhythmic clapping. Stevens struts around the stage, clapping with the people like a rock star. Then he quiets the crowd again.

MR. STEVENS

And who is Mr. Snake? Who is this big bad serpent and what does he represent? Well. What are we all afraid of? Change? Uncertainty? Insecurity? Yes. Of course we are. But what are we really afraid of
now?
Each other?

He watches them. The room is quiet. All eyes, and rapt bodies. The space is palpable.

MR. STEVENS

(intimately)

Everything? Are we afraid of…
everything?

He holds a hand up into the light and searches the air about him with his eyes.

MR. STEVENS

Are we afraid… of
this?

He quickly pinches his thumb and index finger into a pin-point as if he's just captured a fly, or whatever
this
is.

He lowers it, to have a look at this invisible piece of the cosmos, and then he releases it, freeing it into the room.

MR. STEVENS

(releasing his breath)

Ahhhhh….

A waiter walks across the stage carrying a small tray and a single shot glass of the orange liquid.

MR. STEVENS

Tonight, I invite you to shed your skin. Break your bad habit. And join each other in a new life. Life is a reflection. Death is the Master, but the Master is only a mirror. Let's stop time, shall we? Let's be free.

He takes the glass of juice from the waiter's tray and raises it to the room.

MR. STEVENS