If Silence is Compliance

A stage—The stage is blank, black curtain at back and sides, single spotlight with microphone on a stand. A figure walks out of the audience up to the stage. It is THE SPEAKER. THE SPEAKER is wearing a well-cut two piece suit in charcoal blue. His shirt is pale blue with dark blue pinstripes. He wears no tie, his collar is open at top button in an attempt to look casual. In his left hand he holds a briefcase. There is a poppy fixed to his lapel. His hair is brushed into a side-parting, no gel or hair care product is obvious, but his hair is well cut and does not look at all out of place.

THE SPEAKER stands in front of the microphone, puts his hand above his eyes to cut out the light. His face is serious as he surveys the scene. A smile, large and fake, not reaching the eyes, cracks open THE SPEAKER’s face. He removes the hand from above his eyes, puts his briefcase on the floor, squats and opens the briefcase. He pulls from the briefcase an inflatable object and a foot pump. He puts the inflatable item on the floor and attaches the foot pump. THE SPEAKER looks at the audience with his fake grin as he pumps up the inflatable item with his foot. As the inflatable item takes shape it is shown to be a podium. THE SPEAKER fully inflates the podium, removes the foot pump, places the foot pump back in the briefcase, takes some papers from out of the briefcase and places them on top of the podium. THE SPEAKER makes sure the microphone is in place and positions himself behind the podium. He smiles out at the audience. His smile falters, he looks down at his papers, shuffles them, looks up again. He grins, makes his mouth into the shape of an o, looks about to talk, leans into the microphone, grins as large as before, lifts his right hand as if about to speak, hesitates, puts his hand down again, shuffles his papers, looks up again, this time a concerned look on his face, then down at the papers, he uses a finger to plot along the lines of the speech printed there as if looking for something, he mouths a few words to himself. He looks up again at the audience, moves his mouth towards the microphone, hesitates, and then starts talking.

THE SPEAKER’S voice is sincere, confident, with over-emphasised pauses and hand gestures, constantly cutting the air, punctuating his speech with his hands in a way that is familiar to anyone who has watched an experienced public speaker or politician. When THE SPEAKER starts his speech, it is as if he has started mid-flow.

THE SPEAKER: Nevertheless, I would like to continue with the observation that there are many who feel the current state of affairs, that is, the presumption of the past by the future as a present state of mind initially observed from a fixed state of unrest will invariably move towards the otherwise indefinite nature of infractions put in place to fill the gap left by the beneficiaries of the incremental joint decision.

After all, exceeding the limits of predictability, a meeting will be declared to decide on the next move we shall determine to add to the agenda, indicating that the individual statistics are themselves amassed to include a varied cross section of those who felt that the way to go forward was to inexorably choose the step-by-step instructions incorporated into this otherwise translucent program made all the more opaque through consecutive attempts to reinforce the attitudes of those privy to the relevant information.

A number of the disenfranchised insiders aware of the plans usually placed before their superiors still to this day endeavour to communicate the precocious nature of the individuals needs within the conglomerated movement towards sedition and away from apathy.

Which isn’t to say, without any hint of hypocrisy, that all is not hypothetically lost, only, when I say all I must add the requisite that some of the aforementioned may initially decide to run a concurrent campaign under the close scrutiny of the committee in charge of, but not a part of or in any way affiliated with, the last committee whose individual members now make up the core instigators withheld from voting in, having a say on, or debating the positive slash negative effects of the enterprise scheme within the next bill covering all of the above, excluding one minor reservation struck from the record for being repeated rather than initiated.

In the meantime, there will be a short interlude for those members who feel it is necessary, and when I say necessary I mean optional rather than compulsory, but only for the fringe elements of the larger picture who have a legitimate, if un-solicited, claim being optioned for further debate.

For everyone else there will be tea served in the lobby.

The toilets are situated near the front of the middle ground where many a battle has been lost in order to win the war which may or may not be being waged.

I can confirm this as I have seen to the acquisition of the records myself which were passed from the department dealing with such matters when I was away or otherwise engaged in the mundane activities which oversee the day-to-day ins and outs predicted but not predicated by the agency in charge of collating the data extracted from the past meetings which will be held in the next room in future.

I hope that has made everything clearer than it could have been had I been involved from the start, which I wasn’t, not that it matters, the cogs will turn even if no one winds the key, understand?

Good.

Now, If there are no more questions, I will begin.

Thank you for your time.

THE SPEAKER beams out at the audience in a self-congratulatory manner. He remains this way for a minute, enough so the room becomes uncomfortable. THE SPEAKERS smile fades. The following speech starts at the podium but quickly moves away from it as THE SPEAKER’s voice becomes more passionate and animated, his body movements are less controlled, less contrived, less used as punctuation, but rather the body language of a man floundering for the right words.

THE SPEAKER: I never wanted to be a speaker, not like this, you know? I had dreams. I wanted to be a poet, to write poetry, swinging from blank page to blank page, using metaphors and similes like a pirate uses a cutlass on the wide open sea of possibilities blossoming like jasmine in a field of roses—white and red—even those rare blue ones, or are they crocuses? I doubt it, I… though it has to be said that many still feel that the possibilities of the future are as conceivable today as they were yesterday as the nature of infinity, that is the nature of, the very… nature of… The way it… Infinity, time, the possibilities… regard the future as the same length as the past, that is, it is as much a possibility that yesterday happened as it is that tomorrow will happen and you will experience…

THE SPEAKER falters. He turns his back to the audience hiding his emotions. He turns back to them taking off his suit jacket as he does. There are very noticeable sweat stains under the arms. He goes to hang the jacket on the podium and it slips off. THE SPEAKER looks at the jacket on the floor like it is a disobedient dog.

THE SPEAKER: Fuck it.

THE SPEAKER sits on the stage by the side of the podium in profile to the audience, legs pointing towards the podium. His knees are slightly bent and he hugs them putting his face into his knees. He holds the position, gently rocking.

THE SPEAKER: Why does no one understand me? (quieter) Why don’t I understand?

THE SPEAKER jumps up from where he sits, his actions manic.

THE SPEAKER: Fuck this, fuck this, fuck this.

THE SPEAKER rips off his shirt to reveal a vest underneath. He takes his shoes off, hopping around the stage on one foot whilst trying to take off the other shoe. He throws the shoes to the back of the stage with his shirt. Picks up his jacket and throws that to the back of the stage. He pulls off his socks and throws them to the back of the stage. He fumbles with his trousers, pulling them off a leg at a time, repeating the hopping of before. Under his trousers THE SPEAKER is wearing a pair of Bermuda shorts that come to just over the knee. While he is undressing, THE SPEAKER repeats the phrase ‘fuck it.’

THE SPEAKER now stands on stage in his shorts and vest, barefoot, hair in disarray, panting, hands on knees, head hanging. He looks up at the audience.

THE SPEAKER: Sorry. I’m, so sorry, I just need to… Wait.

THE SPEAKER moves over to his suitcase from which he produced the podium. He rummages in it, though none of the items inside can be seen. THE SPEAKER pulls out first one flip-flop, rummages again and then pulls out another. He puts the flip-flops on, stands up, wiggle his toes, walks a little on the stage.

THE SPEAKER: That’s better. You can’t be agitated in flip-flops, it’s impossible. They are like the Valium of footwear. I swear, the second I put these on my heart relaxed, my breathing, everything. I think, I may have managed to trick my body into thinking I’m on the beach. Ah!

THE SPEAKER goes again to the suitcase, rummages and produces some shades, puts them on and then looks out to the audience. He shakes his head. Removes the glasses.

THE SPEAKER: Too much.

He throws the glasses to the back of the stage. He stands behind the inflatable podium once more, looking out at the audience tapping his fingers on the plastic.

THE SPEAKER: I find it hard to say what I mean, and even when I do I find it harder to make anyone understand what it is I mean. I mean, meaning is an agreement, you have, in this case, though many cases are different and require considerable variables in order to be managed satisfactorily… Meaning, in this case, I the speaker and you the listener have engaged in a contract called language and what that contract means to me and you is that with me playing the role of speaker I say things that you in your role of audience listen to, and my job as speaker is to say things that makes sense in such a way as for you to understand them in the light of the present moment, and this is accomplished with the proper use of language, with me creating grammatically acceptable and content reliable phrases, juxtaposing verbs, nouns and adjectives in such a fashion as to create a continual stream of arbitrary noises, arbitrary in that each noise could be replaced by a separate noise which, once agreed upon, can easily and satisfactorily do the job of the other noise that we have discarded, which are then translated by the network of barely comprehended synapses lodged in your brain attached to your ear to become a bond between us where we know what is going on right here and now.

THE SPEAKER pauses. He lifts his hand and punches the inflatable podium in frustration. The podium, unstable by nature, is propelled across the stage.

THE SPEAKER: Shit.

THE SPEAKER bows their head, their gaze focused on their feet. THE SPEAKER does not cry. THE SPEAKER does not wail. THE SPEAKER reaches into their pocket and pulls out their phone. The single spotlight dims and the blue glow that emits from the phone screen allows the audience to see THE SPEAKERS features in defiling detail. THE SPEAKERS pores hold shadows, each one an entrance to a subterranean network of flooded caves and pre-diluvian tombs.

The camera pulls back, THE SPEAKER shrinks, the black void around them grows. As the camera continues to pull back we can see there is no audience. The stage sits at the rim of a void, a vast abyss that, as the camera continues to abandon THE SPEAKER, becomes all that is known of the world. THE SPEAKER’s labyrinthine face reflecting the cold light that emits from their palm is a candle flame in a cavernous amphitheatre of nothing, a pinprick in an infinite, blank sheet. Something slithers in the peripherals of this absence revealed by the camera, something hungry, ancient, and patient. The picture distorts, a fuzz, a breaking of the signal, and we are left alone, head bowed as if in prayer staring at a blank screen surrounded by people close enough to touch who remain out of reach.

We cough. Clear our throats, open our mouths, and hope the right words come out.