The Last Great Whimper
Hollow Cornucopia of Ashes
Act III. Last part of Scene III.
The clock that has been ticking throughout the play, continues, a bit louder.
Just loud enough to be a presence — Karlheinz Stockhausen’s Mikrophonie II.
Eliza (looking out the window):
Nobody really thought it would happen, not in their lifetime. Not the science-fiction writers, not the religious, not the conservationists. It was always an interesting narrative, with a fun spooky edge, always out there in the future; until the fiction became non-fiction, and non-fiction became the news. It’s unimaginable enough for each of us, on a daily basis, to clearly face our own final individual exit, much less this — this all of us gone at once.
(Walks over to chair where Gordon is sitting, puts hands on his shoulders)
We all pretty much rode that denial daily, evidence be damned. The ones who anticipated the coming Apocalypse, some of whom predicted exact dates along the way, surely had recurring doubts, especially as the dates flew by over the centuries. And now, finally, the eschatology folks get to rewrite their fictions onto a template of real numbers. But still, even at this late date, instead of packing their duffel bags with as much awe and gratitude as they can for their last trip around Helios, so many, quite predictably, are sitting with their abacuses and calculating where to project the accusations, which tribe of Others to blame.
Gordon (gets up, faces Eliza):
But here we are, surrounded by our accumulations, our small contribution to that layer of debris that will be left behind for no archeologists. The clock ticking is the only prop remaining with any power to distract us, and its pulse is more like a fanfare.
Come, let’s go outside and be with the others. Parade with the walkers, the observers. Let’s use up the last of our oxygen and astonishment to face that last great Whimper.
Oh yes, let’s!
(Holding hands they slowly start walking towards the door.)
As the lights slowly dim, the music volume increases until Stockhausen’s voices dramatically fill the theater.
Third of thirty-one stories — 500 words or less, written one-per-day during December 2018 — The Hunt & Peck Parables PatchWord Quilt™©.
© AleXander Hirka 2019. All Rights Reserved.