STILLBORN

ACT I

"I bring you this story because it could come true."

The announcer sweeps his arm back and fades to the left. Lights come up on the stage behind him as the curtain is opening and we see a laboratory. Many machines – clean, modern and waiting – fill the stage, and to the right a man sits with his sleeve rolled up and his arm outstretched. Another man stands, wearing a clean, crisp smock, hovering above him. The standing man has clearly just drawn blood as he presses a bandage to the inside of the seated man's arm.

Let's move closer and listen.

"Think I have a chance, Doc?" the seated man asks, eagerly.

"You're the healthiest I've seen in a long while. I'm sure you'll pass the physical with flying colors."

Move closer still. We see the firm jaw, the strong youth in the seated man. A drop of sweat has beaded and coursed slowly along his cheek, heading for his collar. His eyes are bright with expectation. The doctor seems just a touch haggard, a wisp of hair having freed itself from the neatly-groomed rest.

"Into the CAT now. We'll get a look at your brain." The doctor ushers the young man to a machine with a large hollow area at the head of a bench-like bed. The youth lies down with his head swallowed by the machine.

We follow and move closer still. We see each strand of clean, cropped hair on the head of the young man. Softly his heart beats in our awareness and his breath comes a bit rapidly.

The doctor, busying himself with attachments and settings, pauses briefly to cast a shadow of a smile in the young man's direction.

In closer still. We listen to the soft waves of the young man's thoughts edged with excitement. We hear: [This is it. I'm gonna pass everything. I will be selected. O, glorious day!]

A hum begins somewhere in the machine.

[I mustn't move. Be still as possible. Don't jam the test] The young man is thinking. We feel the turmoil burning below his breast, feel his heart pound, draw each careful breath with him as the test progresses. A subtle yearning to jump free, to dance, to sing, courses in an undercurrent to the surface thoughts.

"Looks real good," the doctor's words break through the young man's thoughts. "Now an EKG and an EEG." The youth sits up.

We feel him battle the urge to jump and laugh, see through his eyes as he is led to another table, and watch as he removes his shirt. [I'll pass. I'll be the one. I'll get to go.] We hear him think. We lie with him as the doctor presses patches, with wires attached, to the strong and healthy chest. They stick and itch.

Another machine comes to life.

[Can that machine pick up my excitement? Can it hear the race of my heart, know how much this means to me?] We listen to him wonder.

The doctor smiles wanly and removes the patches from the young man. Another set is applied around his head and neck, and a new hum enters the air.

[Let's get it over. I want to celebrate. I want to sing of my triumph to the world!] The youth breathes more quickly now as the desire courses boldly through his veins; his heart picks up in pace. We feel his muscles yearn to be released from the keen control keeping them still as the machine collects its data. An image forms in the mind of the young man and we look upon a glorious ship, silver and bright, streaming through the waters of space towards a glorious star. We can feel within his emotions that this star is a new one, old though it is in time, new to the presence of man. We feel the young man inside that ship and know this is his success, his destination.

"Fine. Everything looks fine. Better than fine, actually. Strong, healthy. You passed in the highest bracket. Good luck, young man." Again the doctor brings the fleeting smile to surface.

"Thanks, Doc."

We smile widely with the youth, feel the joy held just at reign.

Pull back, now. The stage, the doctor, the youth are before us.

The doctor shakes the young man's hand as he leads the youth to a door at the right. The youth returns the handshake vigorously and is through the door.

Just as the door closes, we hear a hoot of elation from the hall outside and the curtain falls. The lights go down.

ACT II

"So, we have a young man whose hopes are set on a voyage. Some voyage, I'll say. To another star system? To the great wide open? Why not? He waits for three days while the powers that be make their selection and, on that third day, with a handful of other hopefuls, he hears the announcement: he has been chosen!"

Again, the announcer, with great flair, sweeps his hand back and fades away to the left. Again, the lights come up and the stage is set. We see the young man dressed in briefs and donning a silver suit. A window in the wall behind him reveals a ship, smaller than the one we saw in the young man's dream, standing away on a field. A technician assists him in sealing the front of the suit. On the floor to the left lies a large cylinder, silver like the ship and very coffin-like. Step closer again and let's hear what they say.

"This is the big day, eh?" the technician grins nervously at the youth.

"Thought it'd never get here! I've been dreaming of this all my life."

"What do you think this place’ll be like after 500 years? Think it’ll still be here?"

"Of course it'll still be here. It's made it through hundreds of millions of years, what's 500 more?" The young man glances sideways at the technician.

Closer still and we can see the slight shake in the young man's hands as he finishes sealing the suit. Sweat covers his forehead and glistens in the bright lights. We watch the technician take a large helmet from a counter.

"Think you'll find a planet out there we can live on? That's what they're looking for." The technician lifts the helmet over the young man's head.

"Can't say for sure but all the evidence they have says it should be there. Not sure how they can tell," answers the young man as he reaches to pull the helmet down over his head, cutting off any further talk.

We move through the helmet and see the fire burning in the young man's eyes as he watches the technician dog the helmet in place, checking the seal. Now into his thoughts. [OK, next, the gloves. Oh, god, this is really happening. I'm really going.] We see through the face plate as the technician presents the gloves, feel the giddiness as the young man stretches out his hands. The gloves slide into place and are sealed. [What will I find? How far will humankind advance in 500 years? God, I can hardly wait to find out!] We sense the water in the young man's knees as he is led to the cylinder, feel his heart beating hard against his chest, hear his breathing loud in the closeness of the helmet. [What privilege it is to be the first explorer!]

We can see the technician opening the cylinder and feel the muscles in the young man's belly tremble as he steps in, slides his feet down, lies back. A dark veil of trepidation passes briefly through the young man's mind. [What if I die in my long sleep? No, I'll live! I will see the next home of humankind, walk its surface, see its treasures. And I will come back to lead the race to its glory, to its new world.] We listen, we feel, we witness the dreams of a new beginning. We pull away.

A soft hiss accompanies the closing of the cylinder. The technician signals off-stage and two men enter from the left. They begin pushing the cylinder on its wheels as the lights dim, signaling the end of the scene, and the curtain drops.

ACT III

"Now our hero is packed away, shot into space, transferred to the mother-ship, attached to machines, and dropped into cold sleep. Any bets on his success? I thought not. Well, the mother-ship, as you’ve guessed, is that large ship we saw in the first scene through our hero's dream-filled eyes. It is designed to accelerate for about 125 years and then to decelerate (negative acceleration, don't you know) for another 125 years. By the end of this time, our space cadet will be in close proximity to the predicted planet. It’s all computer operated and we’ll state as given that no trouble was encountered by the computer and that it awakened this young man as it should. And now, 250 years later..."

With his characteristic sweep, the announcer is gone. We see, as the lights come up, only the stage to the far left. The cylinder rests beneath a backdrop of a metal bulkhead and in that bulkhead is a portal. The cylinder opens. Quickly, now, close, closer, inside. We can feel the aches, the stiffness of the long rest. It is sluggish in the young man's mind. He is not so young any more, perhaps. A fire of elation pours though the astronaut's gut and we feel it burn away the awareness of the pain of awakening. As we climb from the coffin, we know the strength of the body, weak by comparison to what we remember, yet far stronger than might have been expected after so long. [I've made it!] echoes through the mind we reside in. No other thought. Just the keen desire to get up and look. We push off from the sleep chamber, sensing a wobble in the arms of the young man, and experience his growing excitement as he brings himself to look out the portal. Below we see, in the deep velvet of space, a precious pearl of blue kissed with green and brown. Awe and something else fills the man, something perhaps of a spiritual nature as he gazes at the globe so lovely and so promising turning slowly beneath him. As we pull back, we catch, at the last moment, the glory burst from his heart and course freely from his eyes. The stage darkens.

ACT IV

"Our hero prepares the lifeboat and descends to the planet below."

As the curtain lifts and the lights go up we see a most beautiful, idyllic scene. A small craft can just be seen through the alien yet enchanting foliage. The young man stands, yet suited in silver, amidst the calls of strange creatures. Let's move in again. Now we can see his face caught in wonder through the face plate. We watch as he gazes first one way, then another, rapture clear in his features. Closer and we are inside again. We are now filled with his joy, feel the soft earth where he stands, see the colors through his eyes, through the face plate. Fully we join his rapture and follow as he falls to his knees at the sight before him. Tears leak from his eyes and we feel the soft tickle on his cheeks. [OUT! I must get out of this suit!] He struggles with the gloves, the helmet, the suit. His impatience leaves us shaking. But finally we stand with him, barely clothed, in the warm, fresh day. The flow of the air, taken deeply into his lungs, is energy, is life. Sweet beyond compare is the scent within that breath and we savor it with him, feel the blood pounding with vitality through his heart. Then we spring into a run, feel the laughter burst forth, leap and race in the freedom we take from him. We jump and catch an odd purple leaf and bury our face with him in the fresh, clean, coolness of its surface. Then we are down and rolling in the short growth, much like grass but pale orange and tufted at the top. And we laugh, we laugh, we sing. For long moments we rest and listen, each breath a wonder of smells, both bold and delicate, each moment filled with a symphony of sounds, both deep and high. We feel with him the life and the living.

Pull away now. Yes, it is hard, but the scene is nigh over. Pull away as we watch the young man resting peacefully, a beatific smile at his lips. Pull away as the lights close our view of the garden, the man, the craft. Pull away as the curtain closes.

ACT V

"Yes, I know you are thinking, 'What of bacteria? What of malevolent creatures? What of even worse?' Forget it. In this story, the planet is a treasure. Totally benign. Our hero spends his allotted time making tests, exploring, doing all the things any scientist might think of for him to do. With great regret, he suits up at the end of his stay and heads back to the mother-ship in his shuttle craft, sets the computer to put him to sleep and carry him back to his destiny on Earth."

Again, only the small portion of the stage to the left is lit. The cylinder is there, as is the bulkhead and portal. An angry sound, perhaps a warning alarm, can be heard. The cylinder opens. Let's move in and find out what has gone wrong. We watch from above as a crease wrinkles in the young man's brow. We slip inside. [That sound! What is that sound? Wait, some problem has come up.] Fear hits hard then fades to the background. Through the stiffness, adrenaline moves him up and out. [Did I make it home or am I stranded in space somewhere?] We feel a strong pulse in his fear as he floats across the room and checks a panel of instruments. [No, I made it back. Why is there no one on the radio? There should be greetings, joyous welcoming, celebrating and questions being asked. There should be SOMETHING at least!]

The fear is now pounding with the beat of his heart, and pulsing with each intake of breath. We flail weakly with him in his weightlessness, through a haze of panic, to see through the portal what he sees. As we reach the window, we hear through his ears, through the pickup in the helmet, a soft thump, see a piece of debris, large and blackened, float by. As the tail of the wreckage moves past, a globe is revealed. What hangs before his eyes, what we see there too, is a dirty pearl, a mottled and ugly thing. [What is this? Where is the blue? Where is the earth?] Panic fills us, rending all cohesive thought to tatters. [Earth. Life? Find out!] We wrench away, back, back, out of this red and confused mind. Back to see the ruby lights darken, the curtain fall as the young man pushes off towards the lifeboat.

FINALE

The lights come up dimly as the curtain parts. A dark haze wafts about and around the young man as he stands amidst decay. The skyline is torn with crumbled buildings stark against a blood-red sky. Closer, we see that his face is stricken with grief. Closer, we see tears topple out from closed lids. Closer, we are in. We hear: [Nothing moves. Nothing lives]. His heart wrenches painfully; we feel it in full. Grief fills his mind; we swim in it. [All life has ceased. All is lost.] Through his eyes and his tears, we look upon the poisoned scene; we see the withered remains of life; we know of the death of a planet. We feel a dull anger glow deep in the young man. A half-formed thought flits quickly by and he is tearing off the gloves, the helmet, the suit. We feel the air rush into his lungs, foul, smelly, unsatisfying. [More air! Dear god, I need more air.] A realization. [No oxygen!] He sobs, we sink to our knees with him. [Too long. We waited too long to be born into space. We waited much too long.]

We pull away and the stage becomes black as night.

"It could come true..."