Alastair Greene

Characters

 Alastair – Army sergeant with anti-spiritual philosophy that influences his subjects.

Adrian – One of the soldiers who is troubled by his influence.

Carl – Friend of Alastair

John – Foolish, naïve simpleton who is exploited by these people.

 SCENE 1:

(Evening. Purple light from setting sun, pouring through three windows above dining room table. A painting of a brown-haired woman, nineteen or twenty, with sunken eyes and a concerned, dreamy expression is to the right of the table. She is holding a lamb in her arms, as she stands beside a pink nightlight. Mozart’s “Eine Kleine Nacht” is playing in the background. The sound of wind is heard from outside, as well as the sounds of footsteps. Alastair and Carl are sitting at the dining room table, eating and looking disgruntled. Alastair then grins, looking up at Carl).

 

ALASTAIR: Adrian has certainly changed even over these past few months. Haven’t you noticed? Most people call it self-destruction, but I call it a harsh renewal that has turned him inside out. He’s exactly who he never wanted to admit, as if it was so taboo. Frankly, I think it suits him better. It’s much easier than starting from scratch.

 

CARL:  And who is this person you’ve turned him into?

 

ALASTAIR: He’s become violent, trained and indifferent to the life he once had. This fulfills the vision I had always obsessed over and hoped for. I wish I had not almost killed myself over this. I feel like I’ve wasted half my existence, and I often teased myself, accusing myself of being too cruel and far-fetched, but all of us have questioned ourselves unnecessarily at the cusp of some important endeavor. (Chuckles and pauses) Part of this whole military project, has been to get rid of all the sentimental bullshit these people grew up with. Human beings are biological machines; they don’t have souls. Once they realize this, they can unlock their will and do anything they previously thought unimaginable.

 

CARL: (Laughs) Well, that’s absurd. You’re setting yourself up for creating a bunch of lethargic, aimless simpletons like the ones we’ve had to endure before. How will this time be any different?

 

ALASTAIR: Well this time, we’ll get them to think. We won’t settle for less. We’ve already made great strides. Adrian refuses to communicate with his family anymore, since they constantly demand that he turn his circumstances around, otherwise he’ll slip back into his addictive patterns again, resorting to alcoholism and self-pity. But they obviously have no understanding of people. Like all the other soldiers, he needs to have just enough purpose to not go insane, but no so much purpose that he starts to doubt himself and watch what is changing so rapidly inside him.

 

CARL: That is quite clever, I must admit. I can see how this has forced Adrian to step outside his comfort zone. Now he’s become much bolder. He’s always toying with John, that buffoon who, frankly, is easily manipulated, and has brought on a lot of this shit himself. Adrian knows exactly what buttons to push, and what he overlooks. Adrian’s already swindled him and his family into poverty, while John is clueless about the cause of his predicament. He’s not aware of how competitive the world really is, and therefore, he assumes the best in everyone. He’s talkative as hell too, as if he’s so absorbed in whatever consumes him at any given moment, that he forgets about others. He’s that classic clown who would stride off a cliff, if distracted by some temptation. A part of me often wants to step in and save him, and another part of me wants him to fall or drown.

 

ALASTAIR: Well, he’s not worth the energy. He’ll continue to be the sentimentalist who hides from his responsibilities, and only does what he is instructed. Childhood will never end for him, even though he’s grown. I just wish he would shut up sooner and stay out of everyone else’s business. Why is he so amazed by everything? It’s like he’s lived in a cave up until now, and he’s seeing the world for the first time. At his age, I was mellow, strategic and I chose my battles well. I knew how to get what I wanted from others. They weren’t just there for me to talk at, or lean onto when my circumstances became too difficult, only to be kicked in the face. (Laughs) Adrian and his friends always ridicule him, whenever he shows up for their gatherings, blabbering about some stupid subject. They’ve even threatened him twice. Times are changing. People like John used to keep society safe, guarded and untouched, while everyone was clueless and abstract, filled with the notions I talked about. Now he’s at the bottom of the food chain, ready to be swallowed up by those who refuse to back down.

 

CARL: Trust me, I understand. I remember when I used to be exactly like him. I turned around when I realized there was so much more ahead of me. I just had to give it a chance.

 

(Lights fade).

 

SCENE TWO:

 

(Night. John is standing by lamp post and bench, while Alastair is in the background, sometimes glancing at him briefly while smoking a cigarette).

 

JOHN: Why does everyone misinterpret my character? What does naïvete mean anymore anyways? It is just a way for people to describe a sharp passion that is too strange for people’s taste, and too inconvenient for them.

 

(John is about to leave when he encounters Adrian and his friends, who enter from stage-right. John meekly gazes at them, who look at him contemptuously for a moment).

 

ADRIAN: (With derisive confusion) What? (Looks to his friends and laughs). He’s quite a character, I tell you. Hopefully we won’t have any surprises tonight.

 

JOHN: (Chuckles nervously, trying to maintain a sense of humor and relaxation) Surprises? What do you mean?

 

ADRIAN: (Walking up to him) Not tonight, John. Come on, time to go.

 

(Alastair is amusedly watching this confrontation from a distance).

 

JOHN: What did I do?

 

ADRIAN: (With deadened eyes) Get the hell out of here, John.

 

JOHN: I’m sorry, have I offended you in some way?

 

(Adrian laughs and shakes his head).

 

ADRIAN: What can I say? It’s always a circus at this hour. Never a dull moment.

 

JOHN: (Smiles awkwardly) Okay, you’re upset. I get it.

 

ADRIAN: Beat it!

 

JOHN: No!

 

(Adrian punches him in the face, and he and his friends attack him and beat him up. John is left lying there, and after they leave, he struggles trying to get up. Once he succeeds, he exits slowly stage-left).

 

SCENE THREE:

 

(Night. John is sitting on a rocking chair by a bed where Margaret, his sick and dying wife is lying. He is attending to his cuts and bruises with a wet cloth).

 

JOHN: To be frank, I always feel Adrian is up to something. Who knows what? I’m tired of trying to read people. Why do they believe they are so important anyways? I am my own man. I have my own priorities. I will waste my time no longer.

 

MARGARET: Why do you say that?

 

JOHN: I can’t explain it exactly. But I’m poor all of a sudden, after he said he’d give me money for this transaction, and he never gave it back. He kept doing this repetitively, and now I’m in debt. He appeared good natured, so I’m at a loss for words.

 

MARGARET: (Scoffs) Good-natured is quite an interesting word for him. He’s always been a shady man. Why you haven’t noticed is beyond me. He’s obviously cheated you, which you can’t afford given your situation. You’ll need all the money you can get. My survival might depend on it. I don’t know how much time I have left.

 

JOHN: But that’s ridiculous! Maybe he’s a little off, but he’s given me more than anyone else has.

 

MARGARET: (Shocked and slightly offended) What has he given you?

 

JOHN: He’s given me friendship . . . but to be honest, he believes things I’ve never heard before. I wish I could articulate them.

 

MARGARET: Well, he’s not what you think, trust me. But I feel sorry for him. When he was a child, he was abused and tortured by these high priests from a secret organization, and now he’s trying to overcompensate for all that by becoming a vampire, metaphorically speaking. No wonder he’s become so cut off from his family. I would lose it if I were him.

 

(Just before John can speak, the door opens stage-right and Rose, John’s sister, bursts in).

 

ROSE: Mom is dead! She was killed last night after her house was pillaged!

 

JOHN: (Gasping as his knees give in) N-No, it can’t be! By who? How did this happen?

 

ROSE: The soldiers! They were part of Alastair’s army, and Adrian was one of them! I saw him! You wouldn’t have believed it!

 

(John runs his fingers through his hair and despairingly clutches it, while sitting and leaning against the wall, while Margaret watches agonizingly).

 

JOHN: No . . . this must be a mistake. . .  (Gets up angrily) That’s not possible! You’re wrong! (Begins weeping) I would never have let . . .

 

ROSE: (Shivering) Let what?

 

JOHN: Why are you doing this to me?! None of this is true! None of it!

 

ROSE: You must believe me!

 

(John bangs the wall with his fists)

 

JOHN: He’s always had my best interests at heart! How dare you!

 

ROSE: John, what’s gotten into you! You’re not making sense!

 

JOHN: Leave! I can’t take this!

 

ROSE: John, you can’t be—

 

(There is silence as John weeps. Lights fade).

 

SCENE THREE:

 

(Night. Adrian’s living room. He is standing on carpet by table with lamp and full wine glass, and gun on table. The wind repeatedly blows through the window, and through the pages in his book and causing them to open repeatedly).

 

ADRIAN: My private life is far more humiliating than flaunting or advertising my weaknesses to others. Each time after dinner I sit in my living room alone, and though I enjoy the place where I can be my most authentic self, I hate the horrid impulses that accompany it. Many years ago, my greed and sluggishness and the anger that counterbalanced it, were modes through which I felt the most blissfully ignorant. They required no plan or vision, and no possibility of future disappointment; they were just surges of meaning, desire and execution, in opposition to the indifference that my gloom induced. I swindled, I hid from others who wanted my sympathy, and I created the most elaborate universe for myself in which no one except me could access. It was barricaded by unfathomable dishonesty, contorted and convoluted reason that, as one could see in my earlier phrases, is a defining feature in my thinking. I have fallen so far down that rabbit hole, since the sergeant has dragged me into the nonsense that my mother always warned me about, and now I feel the regret that I would have preferred to experience when I was ready. Now I idealize remorse, even though I don’t practice it. (Adrian puts gun to his head, hesitates and then lowers it). I feel fainter and closer to giving in. I feel angry at my own determination and will to fight it, since meekness and mediocrity are far more realistic. But I don’t care anymore. I have to fulfill whatever idiocy that has never let me transcend, and I am not giving up. (Adrian staggers towards the couch and sits down. He looks around him in sad confusion, as if he suddenly doesn’t recognize anything around him). Maybe caving in would make matters much easier, since I would have more mental space to give myself the care and comfort that I never thought I deserved, in my perpetual strife for perfection. . . (Adrian puts gun down on table, and lies on the couch while trying to go to sleep. Tosses and turns. A hissing, watery sound appears, followed by the sound of footsteps around him, even though no one is visible. Adrian then appears to be in physical pain, while his eyes are closed. He grimaces and struggles. A red light fills the room, as faces peer through the windows).

 

ADRIAN: (Awakening) Why do I feel my nihilism getting worse? I feel colder and more disconnected, than I ever have. I feel sharp pains throughout my body. What is happening?

 

(He gets up abruptly as all this phenomena disappears, and he paces nervously around, inspecting the room, trying to figure out what was plaguing him).

 

ADRIAN: It must have been a dream.

 

(He tries to go back to sleep, but is awoken by the same pains, and red light fills the room again, and fog emerges from the windows. The ghosts of his victims from war, two boys and a woman who are all wounded in the chest, enter stage-right. Adrian then wails and exits stage-left. Lights fade, and then come back on as he enters Alastair’s bedroom while he is asleep, holding the gun).

 

ADRIAN: (To himself) Would ending him, be the only way out of this? I can’t even tell at this stage, whether he made me stronger or more psychologically vulnerable. Those dualities seem blurred in hysteria, and I don’t know whether to somehow reconcile them, or leave them be. . . But, I-I have no more time left. It’s far too late. (Adrian puts gun to his head, holds it there for a few moments). What am I doing? I should have trusted myself from the beginning. I knew that at some point, I would go in circles and stall at doing what I needed to. I should have seen this trap coming. This is absurd. I’ve given myself way too much credence.

 

(Adrian shoots Alastair and kills him. Lights fade).

 

SCENE FOUR:

 

(Daytime. Ravine. Carl and Adrian are standing by the river).

 

ADRIAN: Carl, I must confess that a lot of transformed in me within a very short period of time. I dare say it has happened overnight.

 

ALASTAIR: What is it?

 

ADRIAN: (Hesitantly) Well, the damage all this training has done to me, has fragmented my personality into elements I find unrecognizable, and I can’t think straight anymore. I can’t control my compulsions, and the wars I’ve been involved in have only exacerbated them. . . It was only last night that I fully realized this. I see now that something intangible exists, which gives my actions significance. But I turned my back on it, all because of how I’ve been conditioned. I can’t carry on like this any longer.

 

(Silence).

 

CARL: This is exactly what I feared. I always knew that at some level, you were fragile. This is why you’ve been so hard to control in some ways, and so easy in others.

 

ADRIAN: Don’t take it like that. I see this as something better for me in the long run.

 

CARL: Don’t pretend you understand anything about life. I know what works. I’ve had enough painful experiences to attest to that.

 

ADRIAN: (Frustratedly) Please listen to me. I know this is difficult. But I must get this across to you before it’s too late, and I completely lose everything that is important to me. I can’t let happen.

 

CARL: All that stuff you held onto, was just a distraction. That’s what you continually fail to see.

 

ADRIAN: (Angrily) Who are you to tell me what’s important? Tell me what horrible experiences you’ve had, which have given you this knowledge!

 

(Carl is uncomfortably silent).

 

ALASTAIR: Don’t test me. I’ve been very patient so far, Adrian. You’re thoughtful, you’re smart but you’re running off the rails. Now if you’ll forgive me—(Alastair begins to walk away and Adrian follows him)’

 

ADRIAN: Alastair, I’m serious. Listen to me! Otherwise I’m done for.

 

CARL: You were done for from the beginning. What were your expectations walking into this? Did you think you would ever get your old self back?

 

ADRIAN: W-Well . . . I-I thought I would get to have some will, some self-control.

 

(They stop stage-left).

 

CARL: Well, perhaps that was convenient to believe, but you must move on now.

 

ADRIAN: No! I can’t! I can’t go on like this!

 

CARL: You’re pathetic! All this whining! You’ve only scratched the surface so far, and you call this brutal?

 

ADRIAN: You can’t honestly say that! ’ve done a lot more than scratch the surface!

 

CARL: Well then why are you so hesitant?! Just jump in if you’re ready!

 

ADRIAN: No! I refuse! I quit!

 

(John enters stage-right and notices them as he is walking by, looking disheveled and perturbed).

 

JOHN: (Approaching Adrian) Tell me it isn’t true!

 

ADRIAN: (Frozen with nervousness) What?

 

(John tries to spit it out, but he can’t. He checks out, icily looking past him while he sits down on a bench, sinking into melancholy contemplation. A look of horror and epiphany appears on Adrian’s face, as he faces audience. Lights fade).