Fall

[A very barren, minimalist stage, all things considered. Two chairs, side by side, with their backs against the floor. A table to the side. Each are lit by a separate projector There's a water bottle, a deflated balloon, and this script lying on it. Two people are sitting in the chairs, so as to be looking at the ceiling. An elderly man in a suit is standing next to the table, eagerly looking at the objects placed on it. The play begins after a short pause; only about one or two minutes after all the projectors are on.]

[By the way, every time there's a pause in-between dialogue between both characters, they fidget in their seats; they make vocalisations, and what not. In short, they're visibly uncomfortable.]

Ezekiel: I suppose they'd call this 'Autumn' in Britain.

Elijah (matter-of-factly): No, I think they'd still call it 'plummeting down three-hundred-and-seventy-seven stories to your death'.

Ezekiel: Fair enough.

(pause)

Elijah: So. Why'd you jump in my spot?

Ezekiel: Well, I could ask you the very same thing. Tell me, were you lonely for the first seventy-seven stories? Without me, I mean?

Elijah: Oh, no. I had other things on my mind.

Ezekiel: Fair enough. (pause) What were you thinking about before you jumped?

Elijah: It's strange. I've been thinking about doing this for months now. I even dreamt about it once or twice.

Ezekiel: Was I in the dream?

Elijah: No, I'm afraid not. But I stopped thinking about it on the roof. The only thing that went through my mind were the eggs I had for breakfast this morning. They were slightly over-cooked. I think there were better alternatives for a last meal.

Ezekiel: I wasn't thinking of anything, really. Just looking at my dog. You see, she's this... (Ezekiel readjusts himself slightly, turning towards Elijah whilst still being firmly planted onto the seat) She's this tiny Yorkshire. Had her ever since she was a pup.

Elijah: So she's still (gestures upwards) up there?

Ezekiel: Well, of course. I just brought her so that she could see.

Elijah: Sentimental reasons?

Ezekiel: God, no. Awful little thing, she is. Barks all the time. I just wanted to show her what a superior species would do when faced with despair. She'd never do it, the coward.

Elijah: Despair? Is that why you did it?

Ezekiel: It's just a figure of speech. Why? Why'd you do it?

(pause)

Elijah: Do you believe in Heaven?

Ezekiel (dryly): No.

Elijah: Me neither.

(pause)

Elijah: I wasn't feeling up to it anymore.

Ezekiel: Ah. Understandable. The doctor told me I'd only have a week to live.

Elijah (looking over): Really?

Ezekiel: No, I just wanted to see your reaction. I wasn't feeling up to it anymore, too. Coach always told me I was nothing but a quitter.

Elijah: Did you play professionally?

Ezekiel: No. Softball. Little league. Only played for five weeks, hence the 'quitter' part. Why'd you ask?

Elijah: I played lacrosse when I was younger.

Ezekiel: Impressive!

Elijah: No, not really. I also quit after a month or two. My father put me up to it.

(pause)

Ezekiel: What's your favourite colour?

Elijah: Blue. Yours?

Ezekiel: Red.

(pause)

Elijah: Do you have any family out there?

Ezekiel: Absolutely none. I just hope Lassie finds a good home after all this.

Elijah: Your dog's named Lassie?

Ezekiel: Didn't I tell you? Must've forgotten about it. (pause) What about you?

Elijah: I have an uncle somewhere in Illinois.

Ezekiel: That doesn't count.

Elijah: Didn't think so. I haven't even left a will behind.

Ezekiel (slightly frustrated): Damn.

Elijah: What?

Ezekiel: I knew I'd forgotten something.

Elijah: You forgot to write a will? Did you also leave your stove on?

Ezekiel (frustrated, if not vexed): Yes! Well, no. It's a semi-impulsive thing to do. Didn't have time to think about the details.

(Elijah looks at Ezekiel)

Ezekiel (throws his hands up in frustration): It's not like it matters! Lassie can't even read.

(pause)

Elijah: Have you ever been to-

(Elijah is interrupted by the elderly man to the side. He grabs the water bottle that was sitting on the table, and squirts some water towards the centre of the stage -and, therefore, towards Elijah and Ezekiel- without moving from his original position. He then picks up the script, and begins reading it. Dramatically. There's some violence to it.)

The old man (once again, dramatically): Careening past a veritable river of concrete and shimmering glass forming, merging, coalescing, into a chaotic stream of Modernity, of Man, of his greatest achievement, our two heroes fall at unimaginable speeds towards an Earth which they shall know but once more in this, their swan's song, the maiden voyage of these two souls, united for but for a few, ephemeral instants, only to be torn apart by the Reaper's curtain call, barely speaking over the whistle of the winds tearing through the skies and the flapping hum-drum of their loose clothing, animated by Aeolus' whims, as one of them was about to utter something utterly inane about his home-town of Zanesville, Ohio, a singular drop of water gently kissed his moribund forehead, softly spreading, as its surface was rippling in imperceptible spasms, a microscopic maelstrom, a tiny tempest, which evaporated just as soon as it had been made flesh, a grim metaphor for our friend's inevitable demise.

(Elijah takes his hand to his temple, and then he looks at it.)

Elijah: Hey. It's raining.

Ezekiel (pointing upwards): God damn. Look at that.

(The elderly man throws some more water on stage, and then starts reading again.)

The old man (overflowing with dramatic angst): Before their very eyes, unfolding as a ghastly, silver, linen, was -as though God's army was besieging the very Earth itself- a lattice of myriads upon myriads of raindrops in otherworldly, uneasy, stillness, their forms vibrating at the seams, each a crystal-clear pond, each an ocean reflecting the skies above... (slight pause) and the ground below! Oh, dizzying sight! Is this the Lord's firmament before Eden, before Man, before creation, when the cruel line that we, in our infinite ignorance, call the horizon, that separated the divine firmament into tepid skies and tempestuous seas, was still naught but dust, prospects of prospects, an inevitable impossibility? Shall this be the last glimpse of reality that our heroes share, before their final bow?

Elijah: Strange. I think we're falling at the same speed as the rain.

Ezekiel: That's... that's oddly beautiful.

(pause)

Ezekiel: You know what? I'm glad. We're the only ones who have this kind of view right now.

Elijah: You're right. I won't even mind if we- (pause)

Ezekiel: Died? I forgot about that.

Elijah: Yeah. (pause) Do you have any idea how long it'll take us to reach the bottom?

Ezekiel (pointing to the side to something going by extremely quickly): I think that's the men's bathroom, there. That's on the fiftieth floor, if I remember correctly.

Elijah: Ah. It's soon, then.

(pause)

(Meanwhile, the old man grabs a hold of the balloon that's on the table, whilst the other two are talking, he inflates it and makes a dog-shaped balloon animal.)

Elijah: Do you have any second thoughts?

Ezekiel: None whatsoever.

Elijah: Me neither.

(excruciatingly long pause)

Ezekiel: By the way, I never asked you your name.

Elijah: I guess we had other things on our mind. My name's Elijah.

Ezekiel: And mine's Ezekiel. It was nice meeting you.

Elijah: You too. Now that I think about it, those first seventy-seven stories were lonely.

Ezekiel: Told you.

Elijah: I'm glad.

(Both of the projectors lighting the two chairs shut off. By now, the man has managed to finish his balloon animal. He's holding it in one hand, and in the other, he has his water bottle. He's resting the hand that holds the water bottle on the table. He seems oddly calmer, now, more composed.)

The old man (mellow, introspective, somewhat sad): I'm sorry about tonight; I was quite anxious, you see. (drinks out of the bottle) Oh well. But what about our friends? Did they die? Well, yes: by all accounts, falling from the tallest building on earth kills you. Ah! Death! An aeon in an instant. (dramatic pause) Whoops! Did it again. So yes, they did die.(pause, he hesitates; he doesn't know whether or not he should say this last part) Or, rather, they would've died, were it not for the passing Inflatable Bouncy Castle union.

(The old man leaves the balloon animal on the table, and leaves the stage with the water bottle. The last projector doesn't go out.)