The Year of the Sex Olympics and other TV Plays (26 page)

NAT
: I get old, too.

MISCH
(with distaste)
: Both . . . aagh!

She draws away. Nat goes after the attendant, peeling off the fur-lined coat. Misch glances about. She pulls a furry parka from a shelf, throws it round herself. Nestling her face luxuriously in the hood, she drifts away . . .

PRIEST’S OFFICE

It is the last briefing. Priest faces Nat and Deanie. Lasar Opie is in attendance, too.

PRIEST
(briskly)
: . . . Living quarters all checked. Enough food there to start you off. Seed for growing. Full instructions.

NAT
: And the show?

PRIEST
: Starts as you go in. It’s all wired up. Right, Lasar?

OPIE
: The links are set.

PRIEST
: He runs it.

NAT
: Oh. Good.

OPIE
(smiling)
: In safe hands, Nat.

NAT
: Yes.

OPIE
: Goes out on a special channel, non-stop. We call it the Live-Life Show.
(To Priest)
Title okay?

PRIEST
(nodding)
: Passed.
(To Nat)
We see you all the time, but you won’t see us. Miss you, Nat, on the Sex Olympics—

NAT
: Just one thing. Nobody left behind? No technical staff?

OPIE
: Nobody.

PRIEST
: Why?

NAT
: Oh. Want to be sure . . . it’s just us . . .

ANTE-ROOM, CHILD ENVIRONMENT CENTRE

As before, Keten comes through to the ante-room. This time a nurse is holding her hand, and transfers it to the waiting Deanie as they reach her. The nurse has a plastic pack of the child’s belongings.

Keten is clutching a bedraggled, chewed rag doll.

DEANIE
: Keten.
(To seem friendly)
What this?

KETEN
: Timbo.

DEANIE
: Can I see?
(Keten offers it for inspection but Deanie can make nothing of it except faint distaste)
You come with us now?

KETEN
: Timbo sleep in my bed. I said to you last time.

DEANIE
: Oh. Yes. Keten, you and me and Nat Mender, we go a long way.

Keten looks doubtfully at Nat waiting in the doorway.

KETEN
: Timbo my best friend.

DEANIE
: Timbo?
(Failing to recognise defensive evasion, she is at a loss. To the nurse:)
She been told?
(The nurse nods. To Keten again:)
We want you to come. We be . . . something called a family.
(An apologetic glance at the nurse)
Old-days.

KETEN
: Out there?

She seems rigid with fear.

DEANIE
: What is it?
(With sudden instinct, she pulls Keten close to her for the confidence she must make, and whispers:)
What’s wrong, Keten?

KETEN
(whispering)
: They send children out there. I know. Some of the big ones.

Deanie clutches Keten to her, unable to answer for a moment. She is surprised at the strength of the forces rising in herself.

DEANIE
: Not you! Not in the Audience! You be with us, right out past all that. You be with us all the time . . . !

IN THE PRODUCTION POD

Opie is at the control desk. Priest sits beside him.

A giant caption fills the screen, and for the many who cannot read, a voice repeats it boldly:

“THE LIVE-LIFE SHOW”

The island fills the screen, as from a helicopter speeding down upon it. A small thatched cottage appears, coming closer . . . and closer.

OPIE
: Going inside . . . now.

He flips a switch.

INSIDE THE COTTAGE – DAY

We are inside the cottage. For the first time we are in an actual, hard set, lit by sunlight beaming brightly in through the tiny windows. The walls are lime-washed. It is the sort of primitive one-room building, little more than a stone hut, that might be found in many parts of the world—the Hebrides, the South Atlantic, North Japan.

As the aircraft roars outside, we take in the detail . . . from a high central shot, panning round, to represent the basic Output vision equipment.

At one end of the cottage is a huge open hearth, where an iron cooking pot hangs over a log fire, set ready to light. In the middle of the room is a crude table and some solid, rough chairs. Shelves hold plates and other crockery, but there is no sink, only a large bucket beneath the stone chopping-slab. At the far end of the room are two beds, a big double one and a small narrow one, both roughly carpentered. They are covered with heavy bedclothes, bolsters, patchwork covers. Any detail that seems to identify a particular part of the world is cancelled by some other that denies it. But the cottage has a strong character of its own.

The door is unlatched, cautiously opened. And there are Nat and Deanie and Keten, dressed in their heavy sub-Arctic clothing. Nat comes in first, wary of the total unfamiliarity, looking watchfully about. Deanie follows with the child.

Outside the aircraft roars. Nat turns quickly back to the doorway.

NAT
: Hey, they gone?

He waves. But it is roaring rapidly away. He lets his arm drop.

DEANIE
: You want to ask ’em?

NAT
: About instructions.

He raises his wrist in the habitual gesture, but there is no contact on it. He grins at his forgetfulness, smoothing the unwontedly bare skin.

DEANIE
: They said, everything inside.

NAT
: Yes.
(Their eyes pucker in the strong light as they peer after the aircraft. A sharp gust of wind blows in their faces)
Feel the air move against you, so fast.

DEANIE
: Cold.

KETEN
: Look at the floor.

DEANIE
: That’s the grass, like they said.

NAT
: Better get the gear inside.

He tenses himself and goes. Keten moves closer to Deanie.

KETEN
: Deanie . . .
(Deanie holds her in the new way she has learned)
. . . Too big.

Deanie takes her inside. Nat follows, dragging a big basket by its straps. He is panting. Deanie helps him get it through the doorway.

NAT
: Floor all rough. That grass.

The sound of the aircraft has finally died away in the wind and the constant, distant crash of breakers on rocks. Seabirds screech from time to time.

Nat bangs the door shut. They are enclosed again, safe. Or they should be. But the feel of the surfaces under their hands and the air in their lungs are both raw and harsh.

NAT
: Cold. All cold.

DEANIE
: Yes.

She moves a chair and the heavy grating noise startles her. She smiles, embarrassed.

KETEN
(pointing)
: The screens!
(But what she is pointing at are the small windows on each side of the door)
Mini-screens. They all funny.

DEANIE
: They not screens.

KETEN
: How not?

DEANIE
: All real what you see out there. Real, Keten.

NAT
: Sort of holes to look out. They called . . . called . . . I dunno.

But, reminded, he glances quickly about for what will tell him. On the table lies a familiar object, a tiny recorder. He picks it up, gaining immediate confidence from the feel of it. He presses a button.

OPIE’S VOICE
(distorted)
: Instructions. In sound only. Set to erase after two weeks, so memorise. First, the fire. Keep fire at all times or you lose calories. Fire now set. Light with match. When matches gone, use tinder as follows—

Nat switches off. He finds the matches in a metal box by the hearth. They are big, like Bengal matches.

DEANIE
: Know how?

Nat nods. He strikes one. It flares like a firework and Keten shrinks back with a little cry. He applies it to the dry grass that is stuffed beneath the peat and driftwood in the hearth.

DEANIE
: Take these rigs off now?

NAT
: Not yet.

They watch little flames curl and spread.

DEANIE
: Flames, Keten. See.

Reassured, the child puts her hand towards the fire. Neither Nat nor Deanie react strongly.

NAT
(dubiously)
: Better not.

DEANIE
: Little ones maybe cool—

She touches one of them herself—and whips her hand back with a cry, stung. She gets to her feet, sucking the finger.

NAT
: Hurt?

DEANIE
: Not much. Got a patch, like for a cut?

NAT
: We got no patches,
(she stares at him)
That’s the deal.
(After a moment)
Maybe, in the instructions . . .

He snaps the recorder on again.

OPIE’S VOICE
: . . . Tinder is dry stuff to catch a spark . . .

Nat presses a button to change tracks.

OPIE’S VOICE
: Seed. Vegetable seeds are in table drawer, seed potatoes outside in—

Nat presses button again.

OPIE’S VOICE
: Vision units. Set inside and outside the hut. Main unit inside is set in roof.
(High shot as Nat looks up. He is looking straight at us. Deanie notices and comes to look too. And Keten, who has been freeing the doll Timbo from her anorak. Nat points)
Take care to make no damage to this unit. It is vital to the show.

INSIDE THE PRODUCTION POD

The identical shot is on the big screen in the production pod. Priest and Opie are still watching. Misch has joined them, sitting beside Opie.

PRIEST
: Found the unit . . .

DEANIE
(on screen)
: Must be on now. Must be able to see us.

NAT
(on screen)
: Whole network can see us.

He glares up.

OPIE
: Look . . . thinking what to say.

He flips controls. The shot tightens on Nat.

NAT
(on screen)
: We here now and it started. We know you here too. To watch. We . . . we got each other and . . . it’s up to us now.
(He turns away, and then back to add:)
Nothing you can do to us any more.

Misch grimaces. Opie widens the shot. The three on the screen are peeling off their topcoats. Nat tackles the basket.

OPIE
(glancing at the ratings strip)
: Ratings are good. They like it.
(Priest turns to the Audience Sampler, where animated interest is being shown)
When she touched the flame.

MISCH
: That really jumped ’em. They hard to jump but that jumped ’em.

PRIEST
(gratified)
: Yes. I think we got a show!

Misch turns to Opie and kisses him . . .

INSIDE THE COTTAGE – NIGHT

They have eaten. Nat sits at the table by the light of a single candle, watching as Deanie settles Keten in her small bed. Keten holds the doll tightly, close to her face.

DEANIE
: Still cold?

KETEN
: No.

DEANIE
: What is it?

KETEN
: Noises.

DEANIE
: Just air . . . and . . . water. We get used to ’em.

KETEN
: You not go out?
(Deanie shakes her head)
Nat?

DEANIE
: We both be here. Always,
(she pats the other bed)
We sleep here. Now
you
sleep.
(Keten buries her face in the doll’s ragged shape. Deanie joins Nat)
Frightened. She be okay.
(She studies the candle, touches the tall stem of it. She smiles)
Not hot. Can we make these when we got no more?

NAT
: Yes.

DEANIE
: What out of?

NAT
: Like the food . . . things I got to see tomorrow. Save it.

He blows the candle out and they sit in the glow of the dying fire. Deanie looks up at the vision unit.

DEANIE
(softly)
: Think they see us now?

INSIDE THE PRODUCTION POD – NIGHT

A duty engineer sits alone at the control desk. A warning lamp flashes on the desk. He adjusts the controls, brightening the big screen ahead of him, where Nat and Deanie look up from the table. The duty engineer yawns and stretches. He turns to the Audience Sampler. There are only three or four faces watching, but they are alert, interested . . .

INSIDE THE COTTAGE – NIGHT

Deanie is in bed, and Nat swings himself in after her. He glances across at Keten.

NAT
(whispering)
: Asleep.

DEANIE
: That not asleep.

NAT
: What?

DEANIE
: That thing.

NAT
: Forget about it.

He pulls the patchwork quilt up over them both.

INSIDE THE PRODUCTION POD