Purpose:
Tolerance for eccentric performance is tested.
When we leave, Ross and Constantine are still fucking. Owen and Lugh also opt to stay, more interested in each other than the potential amusements of anything Suibhne and Davy could devise. The rest of us are curious.
The final gallery is a striking blue, split down the middle by a stairway directly in our path. At the far side of the room, beyond the rear stair railing, is a magnificent arch of white and gold. The architect clearly intended to funnel traffic downward and not through the arch. Since it seems we were intended to do so, we descend, only to be met by Manasseh. « Tara should sit upstairs in the imperial box, » he says.
« I don’t want to sit by myself. What fun is that? »
« Hurley can go with you, » says Manasseh. « He has a Gold Card. »
« Now wait a minute… » Hurley begins.
« It’s fine, » says Malachi. « We understand the function of the Gold Cards much better now. While it’s perfectly appropriate for the golden ones to dedicate themselves to the overall improvement of the pleroma, at the same time, it’s also appropriate for those not yet chosen to honor them. »
« Are you sure this is all right? » I ask, looking at Driscoll.
« It’s better for a critic to observe from the front row. »
Hurley and I ascend the stair and pass through the arch into the small but lavishly impressive space. The imperial box is in the center back of the theatre; there are three floors of lesser boxes on either side, and general seating on the floor below.
« Ugh, I’ve never liked the VIP seats. When I went to see Whirljack at Woodstick, I was at the barrier. I got pushed around, but the experience was so much more intense. »
« You had the best of both worlds, » says Hurley. « Tommy got you a backstage pass for after the show. »
« Well, at least I’ll have some time alone with you. I don’t get to see you much. »
« I haven’t been myself lately. »
« I wish I’d known. I wish you could’ve talked to me. »
« What was I supposed to do? I suppose I could’ve written my pathetic love on an anonymous survey question. »
« Ouch. »
« I’m not even sure if that’s true. I don’t know whether Driscoll even likes Patrick. He could’ve been lying. Then again, he could be lying that he’s lying. »
I laugh. « Driscoll’s difficult. »
« You’re telling me! » Hurley hangs his head ruefully. « I don’t think it’s about Patrick. I think it’s about Lorcan. But Lorcan is Lorcan and Driscoll is Driscoll, and everything will be wonderful as long as they pretend that Driscoll is in love with Patrick. »
« Are you really sure you want to get involved in this? »
Now it is Hurley’s turn to laugh. « It’s not like I can help it. The only way I could stop loving Driscoll is if you were to command it. »
« What? »
« You know, it was never even a question of coming up here to sit with you. If asked to choose between sitting with you or sitting with a boyfriend, brother, pollen partner, whatever, the only one who wouldn’t pick you without hesitation is Lugh. Driscoll isn’t upset at all about me being here. Now if I had left him to sit in the box with Patrick, he’d have a fit. And if a relationship between two branches disturbs you, just say so, and it will stop. »
« How convenient, » I murmur.
Of course it is – it was exactly as I wanted it. I think that it is erotic to watch their loveplay with each other, but when it comes down to it, I want first dibs on their attention. Damn, I feel guilty. How narcissistic can I be?
On the other hand, maybe I’m just stupid. After all these years, why can’t I just relax and accept that as long as I play along with him, Ash will hand me any dream I ask for? No, it’s more complex than that. He’ll become those dreams. It’s the root and inspiration of his existence, and I can hardly deny him that. But it’s also very dangerous. I’d better be very careful of what I ask for, or I’ll go off the deep end.
Except it isn’t a matter of asking for it. He pulls images from my subconscious mind that I would never think to ask for. That’s why I’m so often torn between being delighted and being annoyed at what happens. He exposes aspects of me that my conscious self wants buried. It’s disconcerting and embarrassing, surprising and familiar at the same time. I feel found out.
Fokkerflies? Honto ni?
But that’s still not quite right. Ash may metamorphose, a continually changing moth reacting to my shifting desires, but underneath it all, underneath the emanations, the pleroma, the grove, there’s something that’s still uniquely him. It’s that center, that ravening cyclone which drove Molly insane, that swirling void which I now understand to be a proto-consciousness of coalesced nul-energy, an active emptiness, so full of potential, so full of power, so full of need.
I have an epiphany: while most humans spend their lives needing to be loved, Ash came into being because he needed to love. That’s what I see in his alien eyes, why they always look so kind. It’s only now, quite late in the game, that he’s starting to understand that he’s a worthy object of love in his own right.
« I think that Driscoll would be relieved if you told me to stop, » Hurley finishes, downcast.
I take his hand in mine, saying, « I think that you’re good for Driscoll. And the relationships between emanations are too important to interfere with on a whim. It’s pretty obvious that it’s one method Ash has of thinking things through. »
Hurley smiles at me. For a moment there isn’t anything else.
« You have to be careful of me, » he says. « I’m not like Valentin or Evan. I can’t keep time worth a damn, and I could live in this dream forever. But I think the production is starting. »
The heavy velvet curtain rolls back. In the front row below us, Driscoll is focused intently on the stage while Barnabas throws popcorn at Tarlach.
« What’s the play? » I whisper.
« Oh, maybe you want to look at this, » says Hurley, handing me a playbill. It reads:
THE TEMPESTUOUS ALCHEMIST
A Morality Play
by Ben Shakes-pear
Dramatis Personae:
Reefer, a penguin of Patagonia, played by Suibhne Ennis
Puzzle, a specimen of Araucaria araucana, played by Davy Gannon
Ariel, a spirit, played by Manasseh del Eden’d
Caliban, a self-pitying juvenile delinquent, played by Axel del N’stl’d
Scene: a mysterious island off the shores of Patagonia. A ship vanishes into the distance.
I settle back into my chair. « I’d like some popcorn, too. Or maybe some biiskits. And a bottle of vodka, while we’re at it. »
Hurley produces a large bin of grease-soaked kernels. The lights dim. Manasseh is dressed in the style of a Renaissance page-boy, Suibhne wears a tuxedo with an enormous top hat, and Davy is attired in a simple brown jumpsuit, but with a frond attached to his head. The players begin to speak.
Ariel: Alas, I fear our best designs defunct.
The fool I used and taught the secrets of
The dusky gale and darkened sea hath left
The witch’s spawn still waiting on our shore,
Mournfully waving as the ships depart.
Reefer: And such hath been our curse since when his dam
Usurped this island from the birds and trees
By nature giv’n to rule all of these shores.
Puzzle: ‘Twas that witch Sycorax, whose spell did weave
Thy angel’s feathers with my needles free,
And made a madman’s mix of our estates.
Ariel: ‘Tis true, and yet my coniferous friend
There was some comfort in it.
Reefer: Aye, but first
Before our sorrows seek to mend, we must
Depose the witch’s offspring, Caliban,
Who thinks himself the ruler of this isle.
Puzzle: We place our trust in thee, fairest of birds
For of all kin of feathered company,
A penguin never crapped upon a tree.
I lean over and whisper to Hurley, « I’m amazed at how well that line scans in iambic pentameter. »
Caliban (offstage): Fuck you! I don’t have to take any of your shit! You’re not my real father! And I wouldn’t marry that bitch if she were the last girl on Earth. Aw, fuck. She probably was the last girl on Earth.
Reefer: My friends, I fear our plans must hatch at speed
Lest this miscreant my tail-feathers sees.
Ariel: At times like these, advantage I perceive
In mine incorporeal nature. Soft
He cometh here anon.
Reefer: Then let us hide.
Let Puzzle chance to hear the musing ape.
Caliban: They all left me, all of them. Even the stupid drunk sailors left me, and I promised to make them kings of this island. They all suck. [He sniffles.] It’s because I’m ugly. I’m ugly and nobody likes me. [He turns on Puzzle.] You think I’m ugly too, don’t you? Ugly and weird.
Puzzle: [Wind blows through the needles].
Caliban: I’m not fucking stupid, man. I know trees can talk. [Kicks Puzzle].
« Ow! » shouts Davy. « You were just supposed to pretend to kick me. »
« Sorry, » Axel apologizes. Davy frowns and indicates that he should continue with his lines.
Caliban: Where’s Mr. Prissy-pants spirit of air, the hypocrite? I know you lied when you told Prospero that Mom put you under an enchantment that trapped you in a tree. The real truth is that you were trying to boff that tree, and you got stuck in the branches.
Puzzle: Be off with thee, O child of monstrous mien.
I am no screw pine.
Ariel (appearing): Four randy males
Abandoned on an isle find little joy.
Caliban: The penguin’s getting laid, and you know it. Come out from behind that tree. I can see your blubber butt poking out.
Reefer: I know not of these trysts you think I have.
These shores are barren of all lady pengs.
Caliban: Come on. You could always go south. You’re just too lazy to warm an egg on your feet.
Reefer: Thou hast confused me for an emperor.
The Magellanic penguin doth make nests.
Puzzle: I thought thou thinkst thou wast Napoleon.
« Davy! » Suibhne yells. « I don’t know how many times I have to explain this to you. Napoleon was almost two centuries later! Historical accuracy is important. It’s bad enough I let you get away with the popcorn. Popcorn is an anachronism for both England in 1610 and Russia in 1917. »
« We don’t know that, » says Davy. « We only know that we can’t find any books referencing popcorn in pre-revolutionary Russia in the Matriarch’s library. Probably the information got lost in the great Terranet crash of 2502, during the Wars of Centralization. »
« You might try finishing the play, » Driscoll suggests.
Ariel: Be that as it may, the point and target
Is the selfsame as the love god’s arrow,
The lady’s heart to win by man or tree
By spirit free, by monstrous moth or penguin.
« You broke meter, » says Driscoll. « That’s going to negatively affect my review. »
« I knew we should’ve held a masque instead, » says Axel. « A masque is so kinky. »
« I wanted a puppet show, » says Davy. « Although it’s all a puppet show anyway. »
« Is there even an alchemist in this? » asks Driscoll.
« We haven’t gotten to that part yet, » says Davy. « Ariel is supposed to teach Caliban the secret of changing lead into gold. Then Caliban goes to Buenos Aires and all the babes fall for him because he’s filthy rich. For a while it’s all cocaine and meaningless sexual encounters, but he gets tired of the party life. It all seems so hollow. Finally, he decides to return to his roots. When he comes home to the island, he finds that Ariel has gotten stuck inside of Puzzle again, but they’ve finally come to terms with the truth of their relationship. »
« And all of this in blank verse? » I question.
« You were gone a long time, » says Manasseh. « Probably having more fun than we were. We had to find something to do. »
« What was the point? » asks Driscoll. « In an evening rather over-determined with thematic concerns, this script doesn’t seem to connect to sin or beta-testing, and it’s not conducive to orgiastic behavior. »
« Um, » says Suibhne.
« I like puppets, » says Davy. « Puppets turn me on. »
Davy produces a hand-puppet which I recognize – it’s Lusey.
« That is so historically inaccurate! » screams Suibhne.
« Yeah, but I’ve always kind of wanted Tara to give me a hand-job while wearing it. »
« Really? » says Axel, his eyes growing wider. « That is really, really kinky. »
« The point, » says Suibhne, « is that Axel is a virgin, and he needs to get laid. And I have a pollination request for him. »
« You do? » says Axel. « I put one in for you. »
« Really? » says Suibhne.
« You seem like an interesting fellow who might like…interesting things. »
« Like what things? »
« Like rubber goods and mechanical devices. »
« Tara, we’d better warn you upfront, » says Davy. « Axel’s tastes are pretty weird. »
« Davy is still wearing the hand-puppet, » Hurley whispers.
« Axel and Suibhne, cease and desist, » I command. « You can do whatever you want later, but I have droit de seigneur on Axel. »
« So what did you think of the play? » Manasseh asks Driscoll.
Manasseh is too innocent to realize he had done the equivalent of sticking his hand in a tank of piranha and asking “So how does this taste?” I grab hold of Hurley. « I think we’d better get down there. »
Driscoll gives a pointedly dramatic sigh. « Considering there are emanations which have substantial literary, artistic and musical talent, and considering that none of them was in your working group, I’d say it was the best that could be expected. »
« That’s good, » says Manasseh, « isn’t it? »
« In fact, the very idea of involving Davy in any endeavor requiring communication is perverse, » Driscoll continues. « Who actually did the writing? »
« The ideas were mostly Suibhne’s, » says Manasseh, « but Axel straightened out the verse. He didn’t even get help from Cillian, and he knew that a character of base nature was supposed to speak in prose, too! But using The Tempest was my idea – well, I stole it from Ari. We had to think of some way to plausibly include a penguin, and I remembered that the witch Sycorax worshipped a Patagonian god, and there were penguins in Patagonia. »
« We don’t actually have any emanations capable of acting, though, » says Driscoll. « So this kind of production might have been ill-advised from the start. »
« Yeah, we should’ve asked Simon, » says Davy.
Everybody freezes and stares at him.
« Oh, I forgot, Simon hasn’t emanated yet. Sorry. »
« You always bait us like this, » says Driscoll.
« No, I really lost track. Because Simon is our brother. Yours and mine. »
« I think I need to slit my wrists now, » says Driscoll, rising from his seat.
« I don’t get it, » says Manasseh. He is holding Davy’s puppet, turning it over and over in his hand. « Why is this supposed to be sexy? »
« You’re ruining my childhood, » I tell them. « At least, you’re ruining the vaguely pleasant parts of it, the ones unconnected with social ostracism and being covered head-to-toe in bruises from battle exercises. Davy, stop fetishizing on Lusey and take up, oh, I don’t know, Major Regrettes from Haploid Transport Eruption.
« No! » says Driscoll. « Haploid Transport Eruption is pure art. »
« I thought you weren’t going to interfere, » says Hurley.
« In your relationships with each other, not your relationships with spin-off merchandise, especially when it comes from a company I don’t own. »
« Major Regrettes is humanoid, » says Davy, disappointed. « How about Tervok the Squirrel from Stop Motion Tuberose? Vega Vids bought that franchise. »
« Do you like furry things? » asks Axel, placing his hand on Davy’s arm.
« I like puppets, » says Davy. « Major Regrettes wouldn’t make a good hand-puppet. She’s more of an action-figure kind of thing. It’s much harder to imagine an action figure sucking your dick than a…»
« This is not going to a good place, » I say quickly. « Why don’t we track down a group which is really, seriously having an orgy? »
Result of Stress-test 5:
A considerable amount of eccentricity is acceptable; providing a certain amount of end-user control allows for tweaking on the fly.