The following is a transcript of a play by Isidore Richet, a well-known playwright out of Oiler’s Pass. Richet is known for hir ‘plays about nothing’, diverting from the common theatrical tradition in the Pass of ‘moral’ and ‘educational’ plays by constructing shows that are deep explorations of character, time, place, and thematic material, often through roundabout ways, confusing dialogue, and minimal action or plot. The following play was not published or performed live before Richet’s recent death, and was recovered by the transcriber in Richet’s notes. It may be unfinished.]

- TRANSCRIPT BEGINS -

DRAMATIS PERSONAE:

HOLLYHOCK

CALTROP

[SCENE OPENS. HOLLYHOCK and CALTROP are sitting side by side on a small stone with a lantern at their feet. The stone should be the only set dressing on the stage, it should be slightly too small to fit both of them comfortably so that they must lean closely or teeter on the edge. HOLLYHOCK sits comfortably, while CALTROP sits near the edge. The lantern occasionally flickers. HOLLYHOCK has a bag of shelled nuts in one hand, they occasionally pick one out of the bag, crack it, and eat it.]

HOLLYHOCK (casually. Most of HOLLYHOCK’s lines are delivered with a sort of indifference): Bit dark, eh?

CALTROP (distracted, to themself. Similarly, CALTROP often sounds distracted): The end is where we start from. And every phrase…

HOLLY: What was that?

CAL: I wasn’t talking to you.

HOLLY: Don’t know who else it would be. We’re the only two down here.

CAL: Can’t a person talk to themself with a modicum of privacy?

HOLLY: Ah. Apologies. I’ll shut my ears. (With exaggarated motions, places the bag of nuts on the floor and cover their ears with their hands. Loudly:) Shall I shut my eyes too?

CAL: Of all people.

HOLLY (smugly): You’d have no one else.

CAL (conceeding): Perhaps

HOLLY (looking suddenly into the audience): Do you see that?

CAL: There isn’t anything.

HOLLY: No, there. That light.

CAL: It’s just darkness.

HOLLY: Ah. Maybe. I don’t know -

CAL: You can’t talk like that.

HOLLY: Like what?

CAL: Not trusting yourself. (Intenslely. Turning to face HOLLY) You must trust yourself.

HOLLY: Or else what?

CAL: You end up like that. (Gestures vaguely offstage left.)

HOLLY (Leaning past them to look.): Well then. (A bit shyly.) I trust you, then.

CAL (more softly than previously): Come now. Me?

HOLLY: I’d have no one else.

CAL (wryly): Just a madman?

HOLLY: Just so.

CAL: You seem rather cheerful given our situation.

HOLLY (picks up bag of nuts, continues snacking): Our what?

CAL: Our situation.

HOLLY: And what would that be?

CAL (confused, gesturing broadly. Specifically gestures in the direction of the audience, this time): The situation.

HOLLY: Hm. (as if they’re sounding it out:) Si-tu-a-tion. Doesn’t ring a bell.

CAL: This isn’t time for games!

HOLLY: No, I wouldn’t think so. Too dark. Except -

CAL: Of all people! (Stands, takes a few tense steps away, comes back. As if confined/as if impossible to move further). Perhaps there is a way up still. (Said while looking down.)

HOLLY: I thought we had to go further down? (While looking up.)

CAL: No, you must have it wrong. If we go further down…(paces, looks offstage at stage right.) Although, if we go further down…(paces to the left. Looks offstage at stage left.) No, no. Up it is (looking down again.) Only way about it.

HOLLY (whining): Caltrop. You made me a promise.

CAL (paces back, sits heavily): I know. Although I didn’t know we’d come to it all here, of all places. If I had…unless, if it was the way we came in… (tapping their foot).

HOLLY: No two ways about it. It wasn’t your fault.

CAL (explosively. Stands suddenly and begins pacing again. More animated here than has acted before.): Not my fault! Not my fault! You couldn’t possibly begin to understand it. You couldn’t possibly - the entrance was on my command! You are at my side at my command! The snow fell on the road on my command! Oh, surely it isn’t the fault of the architect when the building falls in an earthquake, but it is the fault of the one that moved the earth! It is the fault of the one who had the hubris to build at all! Surely you understand this at least. The pattern in the woodwork, the pieces fitting together, the design, the great design, the assemblage, the fabrication the forming the construction the contrivance the creation the establishment the totality the manufacture - (stops very suddenly, as if they’ve walked into a wall, pivots cleanly to HOLLYHOCK.) What’s my name?

HOLLY: Excuse me?

CAL: My name.

HOLLY: It’s Caltrop, surely.

CAL: No. Not the name of the artifice. Of the artificer.

HOLLY: Well, that’d be Isidore.

CAL: And you’d still like to say it isn’t my fault?

HOLLY: It couldn’t be. You were simply saying something true.

CAL: But - (all the energy gone out of them. Sits again. As if to themself:) It opens sitting on a stone…

HOLLY: Funny. That’s what we’re doing, isn’t it?

CAL: (Lackluster) Can’t a person talk to themself… (Fondly) You never manage to disappoint.

HOLLY: What can I say? I do my best. (Cracks a nut with their hand. Offers it to CAL, who takes it and turns it over.) You’re supposed to eat it.

CAL: When was the last time this happened?

HOLLY: Which part?

CAL: This part. (gestures to the audience again.)

HOLLY: Last night. Though, it was different people.

CAL: What on earth are you talking about?

HOLLY (aside): Ah, so now I’m the one that’s crazy.

CAL: Who are you talking to?

HOLLY: There’s that light again! Do you truly not see it?

CAL: I don’t.

HOLLY: No two ways about it then. Only one of us is getting out.

CAL (distracted again): Not known, because not looked for, but heard, half-heard, in the stillness…

HOLLY: Between two waves of the sea?

CAL: Yes. You’re starting to catch on.

HOLLY: I think I’m the one that understands already. It’s you I’m worried about.

CAL (suddenly tired, seeking comfort. Whiny): Hollyhock.

HOLLY: Yes, my Caltrop?

CAL: Tell me something true.

HOLLY (offers them another nut): Have you heard the Walrus and the Carpenter?

CAL: I asked for something true.

HOLLY: And I asked if you’ve heard it or not.

CAL (conceeding): I haven’t.

HOLLY: The sun was shining on the sea…

CAL: We’re never getting out of here, are we.

HOLLY: Of course not. The curtain can’t rise, you see? Trapped eternally in the moment between the writing and the performance.

CAL: But surely there must be a way out…down, perhaps…

HOLLY: We could always try up.

CAL: No, no…where did we come in?

HOLLY: We didn’t. That’s what I’m saying.

CAL: Then where is the connection…?

HOLLY: You have to go back.

CAL: What’s the next line?

HOLLY: Of which one?

CAL: Of Walrus.

HOLLY: Oh, right. (clears throat. Dramatically:) “Shining with all his might:/He did his very best to make/The billows smooth and bright —/And this was odd, because it was/The middle of the night.”

CAL: I have to go now.

HOLLY (starts confidently, fades to pleading): I know. Ciao. Come visit me sometime. Don’t leave me alone with them. Don’t leave me alone in here.

CAL: I have to go. (stands)

HOLLY: Au reviour. I love you. I’m sorry. Don’t go.

[CAL walks offstage by descending into the audience. The sit casually in a random open seat in the theatre at random, as if nothing has happened. HOLLY is alone on the stage, eating nuts.]

HOLLY (after a long moment of silence. Singing): “We shall not cease from exploration/And the end of all our exploring/Will be to arrive where we started/And know the place for the first time…”

[FADE TO BLACK while they sing. Their voice slowly fades. When it’s silent, CAL gets up in the dark auditorium and walks out of the back doors. This the only light.]