1. An bus stop
Martha waits at a bus stop. The sun is blowing overhead in the sea breeze. The sun is blustered back and forth by the wind off the back of the waves. It’s a human morning
drunk with answering machine beeps
old autechre drumbeats as if off Incunabalae or Amber
threading their way between styrofoam cups of coffee
bad trouble on school buses from kids with rage already ready
and Martha waits
MARTHA: And if I just say the right things
in the right order
it would seem like I’ve figured them out.
All the bosses nod to one another, they say
‘The girl figured it out.’
I’ve learned the combinations. I can break into their vaults.
Meanwhile the bus driver knows me by sight
he knows how much change to have ready
which stop to let me off at without my pressing the button.
He knows my combinations
when I figure this out
it shatters me.
BIRDS IN THE TREES: SWEET DOWN! SWEET DOWN!
SWEET DOWN ANIMAL NOISES!
The bus is on its way to pick Martha
The bus is on its way but Martha waits!
Moonglow in the shadows of the trees
still holding fragments of last night.
Up on the hill above, a tribe of pale all-night remainder theatre-kids wormy with stale ecstacy peer down.
MARTHA: It is the ghostly remains of the Roman Empire. I will ignore them.
THEATRE-KIDS: Have a good day at work, dear!
MARTHA: It’s all right. I don’t speak Latin.
BIRDS IN THE TREES: SWEET DOWN! SWEET DOWN!
SWEET DOWN ANIMAL NOISES!
The bus stops outside a petrol station
The smell of gasoline
The sound of spilled fuel slopping on concrete
The rainbow swirl of petrol on the rocks.
A kid with a towel over his head hides from the sun.
TOWEL-KID: Hey? Money?
MARTHA: Sorry, no.
TOWEL-KID: Money!
MARTHA: I can’t, I’m sorry.
The Nurse’s uniform grows tighter around her body. Martha sniffs petrol from a styrofoam cup.
MARTHA: Wait, wait, I’m still in my room, I’m still in bed…
A rainbow rises out of the styrofoam cup and closes over Martha.
BIRDS IN THE TREES: Sweet down! Sweet down!
Sweet down fades over the rocks
over the rocks and bones and the silent water…
The Towel-Kid tugs off his towel and kneels at Martha’s feet carefully folding a piece of paper. It is Bones.
MARTHA: Can I help you?
BONES: You can hurt me.
MARTHA: I don’t want to do that. Please go away.
BONES: I’m not saying you should. Just that you can. And it will be easier for you to hurt me than to help me.
MARTHA: I’m sorry, I’m not following you.
BONES: Start.
MARTHA: What?
BONES: Follow me. That’s the first step.
MARTHA: What steps?
BONES: There’s two steps, Martha. Step one and can you guess step two?
MARTHA: I’m sorry, how do you know who I am?
BONES: Step two. I know who you am.
MARTHA: Please go away.
BONES: I’m sorry, Martha. You were waiting for a bus.
Bones has folded a tiny paper bus. It is intricate and beautiful and now there is the sound of a bus approaching.
MARTHA: Yes I am actually, and it’s on its way, so if you don’t mind stepping out of the way?
BONES: Of course.
Bones steps aside. The bus is coming closer, louder, squealing brakes, Bones throws the paper bus into Martha’s face there is a huge CRASH
Everything is broken.
2 - An hospital
