Act One
Scene One
The Tightrope
A jester enters a stage upon a rope laid upon the ground.
Le Saltimbanque: Je suis une saltimbanque. Suis une oiseau. [Makes a shadow puppet bird with their hands] Et suis une serpent. [Laughter as hands slither in the light.]
What? None are laughing? You don’t all speak French, do you? Ok. Ok. English then, we will.
I am no one. Nothing important. Merely laughter incarnate. [Pauses for their laughter]. My, my, aren’t you all the impoverished in spirit!
You need a little bit of brightness in your day. Ok, ok. I will now introduce you to the star, l’étoile!
Behold!!!
[Thus a tiny adorable child enters from the other side of the rope. She is walking the tightrope and pauses in the center of the stage, turns her back to the audience, and a mirror descends through which the audience may behold her.]
The Child: Thou great star! What would be thy happiness if thou hadst not those for whom thou shinest!
You are awaited every morning, with many suckling mouths drinking thine overflow and blessing thee for it.
Blessed are they, those with adoring eyes, who can behold even the greatest beauty without envy!
Bless the cup that is about to overflow—ME!—that the water may flow golden out of it, and carry everywhere the reflection of my perfection!
But oh, that i might keep it all to myself. [The mirror is withdrawn and the audience engulfed in darkness.]
The Saltimbanque: [Gasp!] But oh that I might weep! What greed!
Oh child, oh child are we not here to humble ourselves as saints!?
The Child: Let’s get this straight. [Lights] I am the rising sun.
The Saltimbanque: [Whispering] Child, this is where we discuss the going under.
The Child: No! I am the awakened one in the land of the sleepers!
The Saltimbanque: Child!
The Child: Silence!
I gift you all with my light so that i may shine within and through you. Thus we will illuminate the world with one truth.
The Saltimbanque: Which is?
The Child: Yours truly!
The Saltimbanque: [Uncontrollable Laughter!]
[To the audience] Forgive me, oh please forgive me! Where have this child’s manners gone?
Child, humble yourself. These people know where the gifts come from and what to expect under their trees.
Yes, yes, between you and me, we are all being so so goodie goodie for that one day with the Jolly Jolly, yes Saint Nicolas down the chimney…
The Child: No! SANTA IS DEAD!
The Saltimbanque: [Feigned gasp, loving it.]
The Child: All children hitherto have believed prior generations’ lies: and I will be the ebb of that terrible tide. I would rather receive coal than be your fool!
The Saltimbanque: Now what do you have against fools!? I am offended for myself and my profession!
The Child: Oh shush you idiot. What is Santa to you cowards there in your seats?
Speak! Speak you herd of fools!
What is Santa to you in the presence of the child!
[The audience is permitted to speak.]
The Child: Oh, please, even the goodest among you is just a naughty liar!!!
[The Saltimbanque literally lights a pair of pants on fire.]
The Child: Whose pants are those!?
[Pause, admiring the flame.]
Those are your pants! You filthy filthy liars!
The Saltimbanque: But Child, they have good intentions!!!
The Child: [Spits at the audience] i teach you the right way to parent!
The Saltimbanque: The Overparent!
The Child: Das Uberkind!
The Saltimbanque: Are we not all children though?
The Child: Yes! Of lying parents!
The Saltimbanque: Governments!
The Child: Corporations!
The Saltimbanque: Wars!
The Child: Santas!
The Saltimbanque: Gross inequality!
The Child: Bedtimes!
The Saltimbanque: Religions!
The Child: Tooth fairies!
The Saltimbanque: Royalty!
The Child: [Pause] i am actually a princess.
The Saltimbanque: Oh, what claim hath thee, little one?
The Child: i am the child of Zarathustra!
The Saltimbanque: [Laughs] Rar! Who? [As if unknowingly.]
The Child: The rope between all of you and Me!
The Saltimbanque: What?
The Child: One day you will see!
The Saltimbanque: You sound like a Santa believer to me now, sweetie.
The Child: Expect nothing less from a fool.
The Saltimbanque: In royal courts they paid us handsomely.
The Child: Laughter is priceless!
The Saltimbanque: Perhaps you are a princess! [Laughter!]
The Child: My eagle! My serpent!
The Saltimbanque: [Takes a knee, produces the shadow bird puppet and slithering snake.]
The Child: [A staff descends from the heavens into her hands, a golden orb in the embrace of two serpents, and two mirrors descend behind her as she raises the staff and turns her back to the audience.] Of all you have ever known of witches, fairies, and drakes—fantasy—the overdragon are we!
The Saltimbanque: Behold! She is a herald of lightning and a heavy drop from the cloud!
The Child: No! I am the first ray of light upon the clouds’ parting and the thunder that will rumble in the valleys of eternity!
The Saltimbanque: Behold the child!
[Blinding lights stun the audience]
Unknown Voice: Thus Spoke Zarathustra
[Blackout]
***
We will, when funded, write a whole long play examining the rise of the child. We have named her Mariavelli. Whereas Zarathustra turned his back on the city, Mariavelli and the higher children—a gang of ridiculously comical satyrs—have grown and come of age within it. From vacations to the blessed isles to the teachings of tarantulas and the orchid mantis, the play will rebirth the tragedy of Zarathustra’s spirit. However, rather than a song trailing in memory, the play culminates in Mariavelli’s underpainting, a vision of the future one might give shape.
Mariavelli: Whan can neither be said nor written can be painted.
Teliost Language Services 