Sapphire and John rest beside the river Ia, still unsure of the real nature of the world in which they are stranded.
NOTE: The show contains material that may be disturbing or triggering to some people.
Timmy Vilgiate played the parts of John and Eurycleo, Sophie Doss played the part of Sapphire, Nicholas Kline played the part of Telemakso, and Michael Merriam played the part of Dedjerba. The show was written, produced, and scored by Timmy Vilgiate.
Sound effects were provided by freesound.org, including "highflow river" by Cagan Celik, "think funny" by shawshank 73, bris-015 by Andre Desartistes, "r21-33 man sobs" by Craig Smith, "woman screaming yelling..." by bulbastre, "footsteps squeeky wood" by tmkappelt, "kocking door and open door" by rivernile7,
"1-getting-dressed" by 16gjuroval, and "foley footsteps desert boots sand" by pan14."
Newest episode, automatically posted to this blog.
J: There were no stars there in the sunless sky above our heads. No birds soared by, no clouds blew past us, no moon stared down on our weary bodies. There were no voices or city lights for miles. Only the sound of our imagined breathing, set against the flickering of the blue flames at distant edges of the night sky, and the sound of that breathing mingling with the sounds of the river. The water moved along with perfectly spaced ripples that looked like rooves of houses silhouetted by headlights, gliding on by us like set pieces on perfectly aligned metal tracks.
S: “Man, I shouldn’t have killed that bird.”
J: “What do you mean?”
S: “It all started when I killed that bird. Now it’s inside me. It’s like a…like a monster. Like a fucking demon. That’s what it fucking is. I’m cursed.”
J: Sapphire picked up a rock and hurled it into the river. “Cursed?”
S: “I’ve got a fucking demon bird inside of me. It’s…it’s in my fucking ribcage now. Just…just sitting there, where my heart should be. It’s a fucking monster. I…I want it out of me. I want it out.”
J: “I’ve felt the same way before.”
Sapphire: (Incredulously) “Yeah?”
John: Right…right before I went unconscious…the last thing I remember as a…as a real person with a real body…I had someone in my head. Mick. At the time, he seemed like this complete monster but I...at the same time, maybe it was just that I just couldn’t understand him. It was like he was everything I was afraid of being, everything I feared that I was, back before I left. I thought I could…I could fix him, I guess, if I pulled him into my mind. But when he was in there, it just felt wrong. Especially now that I think about it. It feels like just letting him into my head was a mistake by itself. And when I tried to pull back into my body, some part of him forced me out. I wasn’t in my body too much longer before…well. Ryan came along. And then having him in my head, same thing almost, but worse. A monster in my head. But not just a monster, it felt like. Sometimes a friend—sometimes I even looked up to him. Now it just feels like…I don’t know if it is…but it feels like the same thing as you.”
S: ”I guess I felt that way about my dad, actually.”
J: “Yeah?”
S: “Sometimes. I... haven’t ever told anyone about it. He’s why I left home, all those years ago. (sighs) When I was born, he was in Germany, and my mom was back home in San Diego. My first memory of him was…was waiting with Grandpa for him to come home. And I was so excited I could barely breath. He was like…this totally mysterious, heroic figure that my mom had shown me pictures of and told me stories about. I remember him coming in through the door, and sitting down across from me, and handing me a stuffed bear. And he seemed…good. But I could see in his eyes that he was…wasn’t just happy to see me…he was happy...but behind the happiness he was sad—or scared. Something. I couldn’t tell then. I just remember something was…was wrong. And for the first time, I knew in my own three year old way that he was a real human. If that makes any sense.
I remember the first few days with him back were peaceful, peaceful enough to cement that impression of my dad as this sort of sweet heroic man handing me a teddy bear, but one day—and it’s a day I remember clearly—we were getting dressed for Shabbat and I saw my mom bleeding from her nose. I didn’t know why she was bleed until later that night I heard them fighting. The first time I’d heard people yelling like that. I went out to the top of the stairs to peek out my head and…I saw my dad. He was red in the face, and my mom…was… (gulps) I’d never been so scared in my life. And it got worse from there. He was a fucking monster sometimes. But I—I swear to God, though, even after I ran away I could never make myself hate him, I never stopped worrying that something was gonna happen to him while I was gone. I still remembered, in the back of my mind, that stuffed bear, that afternoon waiting for him to come home. I know what he could have seen over there. I know it did something to him, I know that deep down he probably wasn’t prepared to see what he’d seen.
It seemed like he felt guilty about something. But he never talked about why. I’d heard him crying in his room some nights, but he’d never talk about it. Real men don’t cry in front of their daughters, I guess, was his idea. Maybe he killed someone, or maybe he watched someone die—whatever it was, there was some sort of ghost, haunting him. Maybe that’s what the bird is—it’s the same ghost that he had inside of himself—the same ghost that made my dad wanna hurt me made me incite a riot in a city. I don’t wanna think that we have anything in common. I don’t wanna think that cause we can’t. My whole life I’ve just tried to be the opposite of everything he was, you know? A free spirit. Peaceful. Loving…I’m sorry. (chuckles weakly) I should stop being such a downer.”
J: “No, no. You’re fine. I’m…I’m sorry that you’re…that you’re carrying this around. All of this pain from your dad. I can…I can only imagine…”
S: “You’ve probably known since the moment you met me.”
J: “Yeah. But thanks for telling me. And... I guess I know how you feel with the bird. Like, I know what it feels like to kill something too.”
S: “Yeah?”
J: “You know what he kept trying to make me do? Ryan, I mean.”
S: “What?”
J: “He kept taking me back to North Dakota. To my office. Right before I left. He’d ask me,
Ryan: “You ever wonder what it would feel like if you stopped running? If you took the fight to them, like you did, the night before you left
J: After a few hundred goes at it, I told him that…that I’d dreamed about it before. And he asked me about the dream. Eventually, I told him. And he’d say, every time,
Ryan: But you wanted to do it, somewhere deep down, didn’t you?
J: No, I kept saying. He kept doing it. He kept on asking me, again and again and again. And I kept saying no. After a lot of…of back and forth… I guess he got bored, so instead of just rewinding, he killed me. Each time it was worse. He could make it happen as slow as he wanted. He could do it anyway he wanted. And…and dying all those times…it split me up…I know that sounds weird…but every time he killed me, there’d be another copy of me somewhere who he didn’t kill.
And he didn’t let me forget any of it, he didn’t close me off to anything. I stayed aware of every single…every single reality where he was asking me those goddamn questions, dying and restarting and suffering in a million different places all at once. Until eventually I said…until I said I’d do it. And then…then he handed me the gun. And every time he handed me the gun, I felt this tiny bit of relief—in at least one part of my mind I was no longer hurting. The pain was too much. I couldn’t help myself—bit by bit, I took the gun from him, until I felt myself come back together. He didn’t have to tell me anything else. He didn’t have to say anything, he just had to get out of the way. He’d taught me how good it felt to hold the gun, to kill people, and…when I realized that I’d…I’d given in, I—I felt corrupted. I felt like it didn’t matter if I killed someone again.
So I kept killing. Any time I had second thoughts, he just needed to give me a small taste of what he could do to me, and so…eventually, I just killed, killed without thinking, without feeling. I killed entire cities, entire planets. Sure, there were other parts of me. Parts of me that resisted, parts of me that overcame him; there are parts of me that met you, that killed him instead; other parts that remember that are better than I feel like I can ever really be, but I still feel like the killer he made me into is still inside of me, somewhere, and it’s terrifying. Back by the river, when the prophet was in the column of water, I was terrified to connect with his mind cause…cause I don’t know which one of those people I am. The person who beat him or the person who gave in. Would I…would I hurt him?”
S: “And then he died anyway. Man, that whole situation was fucked.”
J: “Yeah. This is all pretty fucked.”
S: “I told Babylon about peace and love and they drug their prophet to the edge of the city and shot him full of arrows. I saw them loot some old lady’s room”
J: “Yeah. Kind of weird when you put it that way.”
S: “(beat) Ironic might be a better word.”
J: “Maybe. But I think the irony was lost on them.”
S: “What do you mean?”
J: “The prophet put the jewels on the door, and you said to tear the jewels down. The prophet told them that the sculptors and tanners worked inferior trades, and you said they should be equals. He said that peace meant order. You said that peace meant freedom. You said they needed to cast off their old way of doing things and welcome the new. The prophet created their old way of doing things. He symbolized the old way. He was the old way. So, no more old way of doing things, no more prophet.”
S: “Huh. Right, so, it’s like…they needed to get rid of his…uh…his power there in order to have true peace and love. And the easiest way to do it was to just…get rid of him. Like literally. People have been trying to figure this shit out for how many years? Like, since forever? Since we had cities. It’s not like I should expect them to magically change overnight. They’re only human. So am I, right? (Beat) And it wasn’t all that bad to melt into the river and turn into a bird. (sighs) And I…I’ve got a free pet. (weak laughter) I hope I’m not supposed to feed it.”
J: “What does it feel like? Like physically.”
S: “What does it feel like? I don’t know…uh. Think of what it feels like to have a spleen, only its moving, and its also a parrot thing. That’s what it feels like.”
J: “—I can’t imagine it.”
S: “Yeah, well, it’s pretty weird.”
J: “You know what it said to me, right before it charged back at me?”
S: “What? You didn’t tell me.”
J: “It said, ‘I’m ready.’ It wasn’t scared, it wasn’t angry, it was…it was calm as could be. It didn’t want to hurt me. It’s almost like it wanted to die.”
S: “I don’t know if that reassures me all that much.”
J: “I wasn’t sure...I thought that it might...but…(sighs) I don’t know.”
S: “Thanks. I guess.” (beat) “So what’s our plan? Follow the river until we find the door marked, ‘This way to the real world!’?”
J: “Maybe we have to. Unless I can talk to Meagan. Reach her somehow.”
S: “You think you can?”
J: “She’s out there somewhere. But who knows. Time might be moving at a different speed here. She might be close to rescuing us, but from our perspective it could feel like...”
S: “Like...”
J: “A long time.”
S: “How long?”
J: “Years. Centuries. Hard to say.”
S: “Well let’s hope it doesn’t take too long.”
J: “A century isn’t as long as it seems. Once you make it past the first one, the next couple just fly by. Comparatively speaking.” She leaned back into the grass.
S: “Comparatively speaking, huh? Great. Do you think it’s worth it to try to sleep?”
J: “Who knows. I’m not sure what time it is.” She shut her eyes.
S: “I’ll try. I’m a heavy sleeper. (beat, laughs) I mean, of course you’re a heavy sleeper, Sapphire, you’re dead! Am I right?”
J: I sat beside her as she tried to fall asleep, equally uncertain as to how much a ghost actually needed to sleep. Or when it would be day time. Or if there would be day time. Or really, what to do with myself now that Sapphire had laid down and shut her eyes. Should I lay down? Maybe it would take me to the ocean of dreams—or maybe even back to my body—if I tried to fall asleep.
S: “I can see through my goddamn eyelids. (Sigh)”
J: “I’m...uh...sorry.” Sapphire rolled over onto her belly.
S: “This is a little better.”
J: “Right....good.” I laid back, looking up towards the flickering sky. My eyelids were...also translucent. It was like looking into a deep dark tinted window. Following Sapphire’s lead, I rolled over onto my stomach to block out the light. Silence for a little while. I mulled over the day. It felt as though it had been a thousand years since I’d woken up in Gerry’s guest room in the morning and I had not slept since—it felt like those thousand years had passed without any rest. I drifted into a dead sleep, one heavy and almost entirely bereft of dreaming. I felt my body melt away—I felt like I was somersaulting into the air, hurtling into space like a satellite hit with a rocket, aimlessly tumbling through the sky. A good sleep—something that I needed more than I realized.
At the edge of the sky, the atmosphere was coming unwoven, coiling around the planet in blue and white ribbons. I could see them peel away, floating up into a bizarre otherworldly space beyond my comprehension. I watched this for a while, until I started to feel the presence of something looking down at me. A pair of lustrous silver eyes leered down at me, shrouded by curly blonde hair. A sinister face, hundreds of times larger than the entire planet. Human, but only superficially--upon closer inspection any veneer of humanity on the face proved only illusory. It studied us like bacteria under a microscope.
(THE SOUND OF A VERY LOUD FOGHORN TYPE SOUND)
I jolted awake, freezing still as I heard the footsteps of three men approaching us.
Sailor 1: The poor girl looks dead, sir. I’m not so sure about the other one.
Sailor 2: Indeed. It is a worrisome omen finding two corpses on the shore on our return.
Dedjerba: Quit your superstitious yammering. Let’s have a closer look…
John: He studied our clothes and bodies carefully. As he did so, I looked into his mind, treading carefully for fear of dislodging anything important. His name was Dedjerba—he had navigated this river all the way to its source—a great ring of glaciers at the edge of the doldrums. His own city saw him as a hero of great and timeless renown.
Dedjerba: Perhaps we ought to try to awaken her.
Sailor 1: Aye, sir. (Claps) Hey! Hey there! You dead? Hello?
Sapphire: (Screams) Ahh! Who’s there!
Sailor 2: By the gods! She’s alive!
Ded: Fair maiden, what terrible things have befallen you? Have you fallen into the river?
Sph: Oh...uh…
John: I rolled over, and Sapphire looked at me, shrugging and trying to stammer out a response
Sph: ...I, I’m—no... Yes? ...no. No. Definitely not. Hi there. Pleasure to meet you. My name’s, uh. Sapphire. This is John.
J: She stood up, reaching out to greet him. The man stared down at her outstretched hand.
Ded: Do you mean to give me something?
Sph: What? No! It’s a handshake. I guess those haven’t been invented yet where you folks are from?
Sa1: She’s gone mad sir!
Sa2: I’d say! Look into those eyes. Mad as Oi’te’lotep.
Ded: Settle down. (sighs) This is my first mate Telemakso, my navigator Eurycleo. And I...
J: And you are no doubt Dedjerba.
Ded: Ah, you have heard of me!
J: Uh sure...ly. Your name is among the most renowned in all parts of the world.
Sph: Yeah, yeah. Desherbert. I’ve heard of you.
Ded: How delightful it is to meet people who have heard of my exploits. I have indeed traveled to the very edge of the world, staring into the birthplace of the river that births all things. I have seen dragons with glowing eyes who growl and fume with smoke through dark valleys. I have seen races of men with two heads, who sharpen their teeth and kill their enemies when they go to war. I have seen cities built in the tops of trees, bridged by oak planks and strong hemp rope; I have seen flowers of colors I did not have words to describe.
Sph: Sounds pretty righteous man.
Dedjerba: Ha! Well, I do not consider myself a righteous man. But what of you two? Why have we found you lying in the grass alongside the river Ia? From whence do you come?
Sph: You take this one, John. I don’t wanna repeat of yesterday.
John: Yes. Oh course, it is only natural that one should ask, no? One never knows when they will meet another explorer.
Dedjerba: You also are explorers, then?
John: Indeed. We have gone on a voyage into the mountains of Nuur, where winged oxen with the tails of scorpions stampede across open valleys, where kingdoms of dwarf-men huddle around campfires exchanging sacred oaths in peculiar tongues, where the flowers that bloom glow in the night.
Dedjerba: What a pleasure to meet the both of you. And yet you travel alone?
John: We once were many, but we lost many of our party in the fire swamp.
Dedjerba: The fire swamp?
John: Yes, yes, the fire swamp. Filled with giant rats.
Sapphire: Are you making all this shit up?
John: That last one was from a movie. I don’t know, I’m kind of just pulling all this out of my ass. I used to LARP in high school and...nevermind. Just follow my lead.
Dedjerba: What fearsome and terrible things you must have witnessed. Perhaps I could offer you a ride on my ship. We cannot be more than three days back to our home city. It would be at least a fortnight on foot. And you can regale me with your stories.
John: Certainly. My navigator here and I would love to be blessed with some pleasant company.
Dedjerba: Telemakso. Take this man to the rowboat and bring him aboard. I await our conversations, good sir.
John: Of course. (Talks) Anyone asks, you’re my navigator.
Sapphire: Yeah, so I’ve heard. Hope no one asks me to look at a compass or some shit cause then we’re fucked.
