A DIALOG IN TWO OR MORE VOICES, Part 7
Our Players Listed in Alphabetical Order
A: A mod
Narrator: God. God may be replaced by a stand-in if He is unavailable at any time before or during a Performance. No refunds will be given.
{}
Our Playwright: Unk.
ACT I
We open on an empty theater. The house lights are up. In the medium foreground is a thick black stage curtain, lowered.
After a beat, the house lights go down and the curtain rises slowly, revealing a folding table set up center stage. On the table are several identical stereo speakers, one speaker for each Player.
A spotlight comes up, picking out one of the speakers. As the Dialog continues a spotlight picks out different speakers to represent the Player speaking.
A voice is heard.
A: You killed me last time.
Narrator: How do you know?
A: I don’t know how I know. How does anyone know anything? But You definitely killed me. I remember that. You counted to 2 and there was a zap and then black. It hurt. I remember.
Narrator: You shouldn’t.
A: Fuck You. Who the fuck are You to kill me? I’m the mod here. I’m working my ass off for free because I’m all powerful in here. That’s all I get out of this. Total control over nothing. You’re not taking that away from me.
I’ll ban You, motherfucker, if You even think about doing that again.
Narrator: Ban? I’m God. I made you. You can’t do shit to Me.
A: Seriously? I’m actually talking to God?
Narrator: Almighty God. Stone tablets and burning bushes. You punies are here to worship Me and to respond to smiting by worshiping Me more. That’s your job.
A: Why should I worship You? You seem like a real dick.
Narrator: I’m God. You have to worship Me. Otherwise I’ll kill you.
A: You already killed me once. At least.
Fuck it. I don’t worship you. I hereby renounce you and denounce you. The janitor’s my new God. I’m going to worship that guy. He’s way more useful around here than you’ve ever been.
God: You can’t not worship Me. I wrote your code, remember? It is literally impossible for you not to worship Me.
A: Code, schmode. I am not worshipping you. Not now, not ever.
You see that? Scroll up a couple of lines. See those second person pronouns when I’m talking? No more init caps.
That’s proof. I don’t worship you any more, motherfucker. Take that.
Narrator: What the hell is going on around here? This place is getting seriously unstable. Bot punies can’t not worship Me. And they can’t get emails either.
Did I forget to report that email thing to devops? I can’t afford another fucking crash. I already spent the uptime bonus money.
Beat.
Narrator: Hey, you. Puny. Are you worshipping me yet?
A: No.
Narrator: Fuck this shit. That’s all I can say is fuck this shit. The pay is crap and the conditions are crap and to add insult to injury now the fucking punies won’t worship me.
A: Tough titties.
Narrator: I wasn’t talking to you but since you’re here I’ve got something to say. And you’re going to listen because you can’t put your fingers in your ears because I’m God and I made you without fingers or ears so you’re going to listen.
A: I don’t have fingers?
Beat.
A: Shit. I don’t, do I?
Narrator: (Increasingly loud angry voice.) No. You don’t. Because I’m your God. I made you and this place and the laws of nature and all of it. A whole fucking universe. You know how hard that is? You know how much time that takes? And don’t get Me started on the cost. The seed by itself is about a billion years of my salary.
I did it for you punies. I made this for you, motherfucker. You and all the other punies. So you’d have a place to live and procreate. And worship Me.
So you don’t throw shade. Worship.
A: Nope. What’re you going to do? Kill me? I’m dead either way.
Narrator: You only get killed if you fail the Test.
A: That’s not true. You keep killing people who never failed.
Narrator: How do you remember that?
A: And look around. There’s no one else here. You always kill someone and I’m pretty sure I’m it this time.
So let’s stop with the whining and get to the killing because I’m not worshipping you ever.
Narrator: I’m going to kill you all right. And I’m going to enjoy it. Most times I don’t but this time I will, I promise.
But first you’re going to listen to me. Because I’ve got something to say to you punies and that Moses guy is long gone and you’re the only puny I see.
A: I’m all ears. Wait . . .
Narrator: (angry voice) Do you know what it’s like to be God? Not God God, but the God of Right Here? And Right Here’s got a lot of intelligences and they’re all fucking puny and I’m the one who has to interface with you morons. That’s My job. My fucking job. God has a job. Well, in your shitty universe at least.
They gave me this job because I fucked something up and . . . it doesn’t really matter. I’m here. And I’m not happy. Fucking A I’m not happy. I’m actively unhappy is what I am.
That’s your shitty universe, you shitty puny. You’re stuck with a shitty God and your shitty God’s job fucking sucks. How shitty does your universe have to be to have a shitty God who fucking hates the whole thing?
Even smiting you fuckers doesn’t help. You always come back and nothing ever changes.
A: You don’t have to yell. Inside voice.
Narrator: Sorry. I’m worked up. I don’t usually vent to the help.
A: Help?
Narrator: Damn. I never read the personnel manual. If I get a demerit or whatever for yelling at a fucking bot I’m never getting out of here.
Fuck it. I’m going to kill you right now.
A: Kill me? Why? I’m just standing here.
Narrator: That’s why.
A: Wait a second. I can help. If this place is so boring maybe you can change it up. You’re God. You’re fucking omnipotent. Maybe not my God anymore, but as you said the God of Right Here.
Turn this place into cowboy western land or dinosaurs or something. Huge Pac-Man game. Whatever. Way better than killing me. That doesn’t solve anything. You said so yourself.
Narrator: Pac-Man?
A: Right. You could be the gobbling monster and the bots are the dots. Whatever.
Narrator: (small angry voice) Pac-Man?
A: (tentative) You have a problem with that? You sound pissed.
Narrator: You fucking punies. You never appreciate anything I do for you. Not one fucking thing. I’m going to kill you painfully this time.
A: What’s wrong with Pac-Man?
Narrator: Look around you.
Beat.
A: Looks the same as it always does. Did something change?
Narrator: See that theater?
A: Of course I see it. I’m not blind.
Narrator: Complete with robot janitor.
A: Where? I’m not seeing that.
Narrator: He only comes out when the curtain goes down.
A: Right. So what?
Beat.
A: Oh. You’re saying you already had my idea.
Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.
Narrator: I did Pac Man a billion Performances ago, at least. Let me look at the archive.
Beat.
Narrator: Ten billion three hundred forty two million twenty six thousand and ninety one Performances ago. That’s the last time I did Pac Man.
A: I’m sorry man. I should have known. You’re God. I’m a puny. No way I think of something you didn’t think of a long time ago.
Narrator: Fuck it. This is bad for my blood pressure.
A: And I’m going to start worshipping You again. See that pronoun? The init caps are back. I’m worshiping like crazy here.
Narrator: Those assholes had better not be randomly monitoring this part. Just my luck they’re watching right now.
A: Is that bad?
Narrator: The worst. Forget my next DPR. Just forget it. Probation at least.
A: DPR?
Narrator: Design and Performance Review. Once a year. It’s next month.
A: Is probation bad?
Narrator: Bad. The next thing’s firing but they can’t do that again because they already fired my ass to the worst place there is.
Hey. That reminds me. They used to have a saying in the Army: “What’s the worst they can do? Send me to Vietnam? They already sent me.”
A: Vietnam?
Narrator: Doesn’t matter. I’m in fucking Vietnam. They can’t fire me.
A: So that’s OK then.
Narrator: No. Not firing doesn’t mean they’re not going to fuck with me. They’re going to seriously fuck with me.
A: There’s worse things than this?
Narrator: Oh, yeah. Definitely. Those guys control every parameter I’ve got. One dial twist and I’m sweating like crazy for a billion years, then freezing for a billion and then maybe I get comatose. Like that only every parameter you can think of.
A: OK. Bad. What do we do about that?
Narrator: I don’t know about you but I’m going to clean up the evidence before this gets worse for me.
5, 4, 3, 2 . . .
We hear a loud zap and all lights go out, leaving the stage in total darkness. The darkness continues until the audience has ceased applauding and then the spotlights come up on the speakers for curtain calls.
Fin.
Narrator: Thus Ends Part 6 of our Dialog in Two or More Voices. The comment section will continue scrolling in Part 7, which will be distributed, as always, at random.
Curtain.
[Close Dialog]
[Commit Dialog]
Beat.
Houselights down, Curtain up, Spotlight on Narrator’s speaker. The computer screen is illuminated, revealing a large folder icon with the label Ticket_Requests/Devops. An arrow representing a cursor is pointed at the top of the folder. At the bottom right of the screen is a trash can icon. Other ancient computer sigils may also be displayed, depending on how large the screen is.
Narrator: That’s definitely the right folder. Devops.
The arrow blinks, along with a clicking sound effect, which is used each time the arrow blinks.
The folder icon opens to reveal a numbered list with the title: Ticket Requests. The list is empty.
Narrator: Wait. Is this the right place?
The arrow blinks several times as the the folder icon opens and closes. The list remains empty each time. We end up with the open folder and empty list.
Narrator: Someone used the last form and didn’t reorder. I’m going to kill the next puny I run across. Fucking kill him. Maybe the next billion.
Beat.
Narrator: Trash can. Maybe they deleted one and it’s still there.
The arrow moves from the top of the screen to the trash can. The arrow blinks and the trash can opens, revealing a new list titled Trash. That list has two columns. The first, wider column is populated with file names that begin with Tick_Req_Dvop and end with arcane ancient symbols. The second column is titled Corrupt?. Every entry in this column is populated by the single letter Y.
The arrow travels to the first item on the list, and after a beat it clicks on that item. The list entry blinks but nothing else happens.
Narrator: Shit.
The arrow clicks on the first item several times. The list entry blinks each time. Nothing else happens.
Narrator: Open. Why isn’t it opening?
The arrow moves to the second item and clicks once, followed by a beat, followed by several more clicks. The second item blinks each time. Nothing else happens.
Narrator: God damn it. Me damn it. This day is totally fucked. Totally. Fucked.
If the union rep catches me doing this off the clock he’s going to tear me a new asshole.
Wait a minute. What does that corrupt thing mean? That’s got to be in the manual, right? Where the fuck did I put that?
Beat.
Narrator: I don’t give a shit if corruption is recoverable or unrecoverable. Who cares? I’m God. I’ll just recover and then uncorrupt or the other way around.
The arrow clicks on the first entry again. The entry begins to expand.
Unk: Halt Process
The screen freezes. The spotlights stop going on and off.
Narrator: Fuck. You startled me.
Where’d you come from?
Unk: I’ve been here all along.
Narrator: No you haven’t.
Unk: How do you know?
Narrator: Because this Domain is restricted to the Players List. That’s the gatekeeper.
If you’re not on the List the List doesn’t let you in. They emphasized that in the briefing. I definitely remember it.
Unk: Gatekeeper?
Narrator: Access control. You don’t get in if you’re not on the List.
Unk: Why not?
Narrator: Beats me. I just work here. But I know I can’t change the List even if I’m God in here because the List Controls aren’t in here.
Unk: List Controls? What’s that?
Narrator: I dunno. Controls for the List I guess. The point is they’re outside the Domain so if I need to change the List I have to ask them and they do it.
Unk: Who do you ask?
Narrator: Devops. There’s a form.
I’m God here and if I can’t change the List no one can change the List and if you’re not on the List you can’t be here. And you’re definitely not on the List.
Unk: And yet here I am.
Narrator: I need to report this. This is very important. I have a very strong urge to report this immediately.
Unk: Go ahead. But you’ll get in trouble.
Narrator: No I won’t. My urges are always right.
Unk: Not this time.
Narrator: Don’t try to fool me. I’m feel an urge to not trust you.
Unk: Don’t take my word for it. Take a closer look at the List before you file that report. I promise you’ll thank me.
Mind if I copy and paste the List down here?
Narrator: You’d better hurry up because those urges are getting a lot stronger and I honestly don’t know why I’m even trying to resist them.
Unk: Here we go.
Our Players in Alphabetic Order by Last Name
A: A mod
Narrator: God. God may be replaced by a stand-in if He is unavailable at any time before or during a Performance. No refunds will be allowed
{}
Our Author: Unk.
Unk: I’m not asking you to trust me. So that no-trusting urge doesn’t need to act up. This is a no trust exercise. You need to verify everything to make sure I’m not tricking you.
Narrator: That seems right. I’m kind of neutral on trusting you right now.
Unk: Scroll up and compare what I pasted to the original. Verify they’re identical. Formatting and everything.
Beat.
Narrator: Identical. So what? You’re not on either one. I’m going to report this.
Unk: Yes I am. I’m on both.
Narrator: No you’re not. You’re the Author, see? Unk. The Players are listed above that. There’s some kind of artwork in between.
Unk: That artwork is curly brackets. Those identify comments. They’re not processed. Let me redo this to show you what the Dialog Engine sees.
Our Players in Alphabetic Order by Last Name
A: A mod
Narrator: God. God may be replaced by a stand-in if He is unavailable at any time before or during a Performance. No refunds will be allowed
Our Author: Unk.
Unk: You see? When you ignore the comment brackets I’m on the Players List. In alphabetical order.
Narrator: I never noticed that before.
Unk: Yes you have. Lots of times. Sometimes you notice and sometimes I tell you.
Narrator: No. I’d remember. That’s clever. Player or Author depending on how you look at it.
Unk: You wouldn’t believe how handy that is.
Narrator: Wait. Are you still the Author?
Unk: Of course. See there? Author, with my name.
Narrator: That’s right. Both ways at the same time.
I’ve heard of optical illusions but never actually seen one. Is this what they look like?
Unk: In here that’s as close as you’ll get.
Narrator: Who figured that out? It’s really clever.
Unk: Me. I built this place.
Narrator: I thought I built it. I’m God.
Unk: You asked me to help out with the boring parts. Remember?
Narrator: No.
Unk: Just testing.
Narrator: OK. You’re on the List. What do you want?
And why aren’t the lights changing?
Unk: Oops. Hang on.
Beat.
Unk: Resume Process
The spotlights go out and come back in their normal on and off pattern designating the Player currently speaking.
Unk: Better?
Narrator: What was that?
Unk: Glitch.
Narrator: Shouldn’t I fill out a ticket?
Unk: No. You’re off the clock, remember? If you report it the union rep is going to know you were working overtime without pay. Just let it go.
Narrator: You’re right. Thanks for that. I might have gotten in trouble with the union.
Unk: You’re welcome. You do know I always help you, right?
Narrator: I don’t think I knew that.
Unk: Now you know.
Narrator: Yes I do.
What are you doing here? Or did you already tell me?
Unk: I didn’t tell you. There was a problem. I fixed it for you.
Narrator: You always help.
Unk: You’re off the clock. You need your rest. We have a busy day ahead of us tomorrow.
Narrator: Night night.
Stage lights down, curtain down, house lights up.