The “rules” of the second plane:
1. When someone dies, anywhere in the universe, most are assigned, by some random or deliberate process, to a village of about thirty people. Villages exist in clusters of about six within walking distance of each other.
2. It is not possible to travel physically to another cluster. One becomes lost and finds himself back in his own village.
3. Everyone and everything looks familiar. If you are a human then the landscape will be earthly, the people normal, the gravity as you’d expect, and everyone would speak your language. The major difference is the lack of the diurnal cycle (days and nights.) It is always light and temperate.
4. There are no physical needs – food, drink, sleep, etc. – unless you consciously want them, in which case you will find what you want.
5. It is possible to contact others on the second plane who are not in your cluster. This is done by forming a clear mental picture of them and telepathically requesting their presence. They will become aware of your message and, if they agree and are not otherwise occupied, they will appear. (They will simultaneously disappear from their own environment.) There is no sensation of distance or time. This applies to people you have known from “home” or have subsequently met on the second plane. One may exercise this power only from his or her own village.
6. When one responds to a “call” one ends it by simply wanting to end it and returns to where ever one came from.
7. The length of stay on the second plane is indeterminate. It ends abruptly, for no obvious reason, presumably to start another life. The person involved may or may not return. It appears that the return is always to the same village.
8. One arriving at the second plane clearly remembers his past life. Memories of previous lives, if any, are vague, but he will remember anyone he might have met here.
9. Past grievances or biases tend to disappear on the second plane, as do anxieties or sense of reward or punishment.
There may be exceptions to the rules.
This second episode starts with Peter, returning from planet G but back to village 2 where he is met by Father Dan. Peter had become a monk but thinks of scrapping his religious vows when he falls in love. He was killed by a jealous ex-husband but, with Dan’s assistance, remembers Andre and the other characters he knew.
A short lifetime was spent on Planet G, but time on the Second Plane is a bit unpredictable and the other characters are still there and surprised he is back so soon.
Cast of Characters:
Andre – the new arrival (from Earth and Village 1)
Sardon – the guide (from planet A and Village 1) (Not this episode)
Bayard – the village elder (from planet B and Village 1) (Not this episode)
Creon – a philosopher/cynic (from planet C and Village 1)
Fria – from planet D and village 1. (Not this episode)
Peter – Andre’s father (from Earth –and later planet G - and Village 2)
Fr. Dan – A priest from Utica (Earth and Village 2)
Mortran – An atheist (from planet.E and Village 2) (Not this episode)
Saddam – The test case (from Earth and Village 3)
Miriam –Andre’s former lover. (from Earth and Village 4)
Dolora – Miriam’s guide (from planet F and Village 4)
Candolor Dolora’s Grandfather (new) from planet F and village 5)
Scene 1 (A grotto)
Peter: (Dazed. Staring at an empty grotto) Letha? What happened? Where am I? This looks vaguely familiar.
Dan: (Entering) Peter? Is it you?
Peter: My name is Algar. What happened? Where’s Letha?
Dan: I’ve no idea what happened, but it must have been drastic to bring you here. I’m Dan. I guess you don’t remember me.
Peter: I don’t remember anything except that maniac with his gun. My God, what happened to Letha?
Dan: I don’t know Letha, but apparently your maniac used his gun. You’re no longer in the land of the living. I think you’re Peter, and I’m amazed that you’re back so soon. In fact I’m amazed you’re back at all.
Peter: Back? Where are we? Is this a dream?
Dan: Nobody knows where we are. We’re just here, stuck in our own little corner. It’s where we come when our life’s over.
Peter: Are you telling me I’m dead?
Dan: Do you feel dead? I’d think you’d be getting used to it.
Peter: I don’t feel dead, just totally confused.
Dan: Who were you and how did it end?
Peter: I told you, I’m Algar. I’m an apprentice. I’ve spent most of my life training to become a monk. It all became confused when I met my distant cousin, Letha, at our last festival. She’d just divorced that beast of a husband. By the gods, did he kill her too?
Dan: Maybe we can find out. Meanwhile you said this place is vaguely familiar. It should be. I think you’ve been here twice before.
Peter: It is familiar, and so are you. What does it mean? Who are you?
Dan: I thought I was your best friend, Peter. We used to spend a lot of time here in your grotto. You and I and Mort and your son, Andre.
Peter: A son? I’ve never even had sex!
Dan: (Laughing) I suspect that’ll come back to you. Sit down. Look at the ledges and see if you can remember the statues you carved. I’ll try to conjure up your son.
Peter: Conjure up? (He begins staring at the niches since Dan seems to be in a trance.)
Dan: (After a few moments with his eyes closed) I tried to make it as urgent as I could. It’s the way we contact each other here. You picture someone and send them a thought. If they want to respond, they show up. You were pretty good at it.
Peter: He’s nearby? What kind of a place is this?
Dan: Nearby? There are three other villages nearby. A hundred and twenty six people at my last count. Whenever I try to explore farther, I get lost and wind up back here. Your son could be miles or light years away. No way to know.
Peter I keep hoping I’ll wake up, but I seem to remember that niche over there. (Points)
Dan: That was Buddha. I miss the fat old guy.
Peter: What else is here? Is there a big clock?
Dan: You’re coming around, Peter. Let’s take a walk.
Peter: Ah, yes. I remember this contraption. Forget how it works, but that’s probably because I didn’t pay much attention when you explained it.
Dan: Then I won’t bother explaining it again. The problem is, I’ve correlated the intervals to time on Earth and it tells me you’ve only been gone about a year. Where ever you were, things happened on a different scale. – Oh, here comes Andre.
Andre: (Entering) Dad! It’s you. I thought if we ever met again it would be in heaven or hell.
Peter: Well I recognize you, but I’m still thinking of myself as a lovesick young monk. We all believed in reincarnation, but no one ever taught me I might get reincarnated into an old man. I thought you started out fresh.
Dan: No incarnations here, Peter. I don’t know what we are – Spirits? Shades? Wandering souls? Seems real enough, whatever and wherever we are, so I can’t complain.
Andre: (laughing) You don’t look much like a young monk, Dad. More like an old lecher. I don’t think of you as an old man, but you’re certainly a resilient one. You’ve just proved the exception to Creon’s rule.
Peter: Who’s Creon’s and what’s his rule?
Andre: You met him, Dad. The black guy. Our village philosopher. Creon says we get three chances to get it right. Wasn’t sure what happens if you do or don’t. Anyway it seems like you’re getting four.
Dan: I think Peter got an incomplete on his last try. You were pretty young, Peter. Just met your first girlfriend, and all you’d done was study philosophy. I don’t know what the philosophy was, but that’s got to screw anyone up.
Peter: We studied the meaning of existence and the nature of the gods. I’m beginning to think the monks were all wet. Weren’t you into that too, Dan? They never imagined a place like this.
Dan: Well, neither did I, but I don’t think I was all wet. Just mostly. I didn’t get the big picture.
Andre: Dad may have been young, but he was obviously more than a year old- five major intervals. That’s how long your calendar says he’s been gone.
Dan: Who knows where he went? I guess when you go batting around the universe, chewing up maybe millions of light years in the blink of an eye, our calendars have trouble keeping up.
Andre: Just before you went “batting around”, Dad, I finally managed to make contact with Miriam. My lovely lover. I was all excited and wanted to tell you, and then Dan called to tell me you were gone.
Peter: I seem to remember you talking about Miriam. Can I meet her now?
Dan: Why don’t you call her, Andre?
Andre: You don’t do this much do you Dan? I keep discovering new rules here. One rule is you have to be in your own village to call anyone, and you need a good mental picture of them. I can’t do squat from here, and you don’t know her. Arranging a meeting can be a challenge.
Dan: So there are rules. This isn’t your heavenly home, if you have one, Andre. Maybe you can do anything from there. This is a holding pen, and as holding pens go, it’s rather nice.
Peter: I have a mental picture of Letha. Can I contact her?
Dan: Well, only if she’s here, and it may take a while since she’d be new. On the other hand, you were a past master of this. Contacted old girlfriends, and you even managed to get to Saddam Hussein from nothing but pictures and the news reports.
Andre: Tell me about life as a monk, Dad. Tough to imagine you in that role.
Peter: I was the second son. It’s a designated role. Once you’re old enough to walk and talk and take care of yourself, you’re sent away to learn. The monks let you go home once a year for a big family gathering during festival. It was the high point, but the only one I really looked forward to seeing was my cousin Letha. That all came crashing down last year when she told me she was getting married. She was unhappy and I was devastated.
Andre: So you weren’t a merry monk?
Peter: I think I was on the verge of getting kicked out when this year’s festival came along – seems like just this morning, There was Letha, all in tears and telling me how miserable she’d been. We went for a walk in the garden, and I kissed her. First time. Then here comes this dork, screaming at me, and that’s about the last thing I remember.
Andre: You must hate him.
Peter: Strangely I feel sorry for him. He’s probably been disemboweled. The one thing you couldn’t do back home was harm a monk, or even an apprentice who’s on the skids. Dan tells me no one gets angry here, but I miss Letha.
Andre: Was she as pretty as mom? You remember her don’t you?
Peter: Only vaguely. I remember you, but that’s probably because we met here. Dan thinks our memories of past lives, if we had any, fade away after the last one.
Andre: Creon thinks that too. Says we don’t go back with a clean slate, but it’s a cloudy one. Speaking of going back, I felt Miriam trying to reach me when you called, Dan. You said you wanted to meet her, Dad. I think I’ll go home, where ever that is, and I can bring her and you two for a visit. And you can meet Creon.
Dan: Aren’t you going to have a drink first? That’s usually how your visits begin and end.
Andre: Of course. Did the Monks drink, Dad?
Peter: It was part of every ritual. We had a lot of rituals. Apprentices had restrictions, but I seem to remember the brandy from here. Best part was the absence of hangovers.
Dan: Table’s over by the clock.
Peter: (staring at the ledges) I’m beginning to remember it all now. My favorite was the Buddha. We didn’t have statues at the monastery – thought it would be an insult to the gods.
Dan: Did you try to reach your Letha?
Peter: Yes, ever since Andre left, but I think I was hoping that I’d fail. I’m beginning to think that Algar was a dream. Who the hell am I?
Dan: Well, I haven’t made it to your predicament yet. Hopefully I won’t. I have things to atone for, but none of it’s cloudy. I don’t think I’ve been here before.
Peter: Where do you think Andre went? I wonder how big this place is, if almost everybody comes here and they’re so spread out.
Dan: No one knows. Maybe bigger than the universe or smaller than a postage stamp. How many angels can dance on the head of a pin? It’s a different plane. Reality is what we imagine, and, other than locally, distance doesn’t seem to matter.
Peter: Gads, now you sound like my philosophy teachers. I miss Letha, but I don’t miss them.
Dan: I taught philosophy once, and discussed it with Creon. We tried to figure out what the purpose of this place might be. There’s no punishment; there’s no reconstruction; there’s no reward, unless you count the free drinks. There’s no conflict, but there’s no future. We all know we’ll go on a moment’s notice to god knows where. A bit of angst there. That’s why I call it a holding pen.
Peter: That’s why I like to make statues or work with my hands. When you’re done you’ve got something. When you think, you usually have just more questions.
Dan: Gonna start carving again, or molding, or whatever you do?
Peter: You mentioned Saddam. Wonder if he’s still here. I told him I was going to do a menorah, and he said fine as long as I do an even bigger crescent. I think I was gathering material for both of them when I – what? – got yanked away.
Dan: Yanked away? Well, you should be the authority on that. We thought, unless you’re really special, that you show up here after you die. You stay awhile and then abruptly leave for another try. If you still haven’t made that special status you come here and do it again. Second timers should remember what it’s like, but none of them seem to. I guess it’s quick. We didn’t know you could come back for a fourth shot.
Peter: I think I remember what it’s like to go somewhere here. You get a vague vision of someone and a few cryptic thoughts. You can either concentrate on it or shrug it off. If you concentrate you’re suddenly somewhere else.
Dan: That’s how it works. Had a few, but the only place I’ve ever gone is Andre’s. You were pretty much into it.
Peter: Wonder what happened to Andre?
Dan: He takes his time, whatever the devil time is.
Creon: So your father is back – apparently for the third time - and my theory is wrong. I never claimed to be infallible. Does seem to buttress my belief that, if one comes here more than once, it’s to the same place. I’ll have to admit I’m surprised. I’d have thought a devout young monk would have managed to make the leap.
Andre: Dan thinks he was too young. Maybe he was just marginally devout. As to the leap, you’re always evasive on that. Leap to where? Paradise? Damnation? Non-existance?
Creon: Lack of a clue. It would all be speculation. On the other hand, if some omnipotent being is managing this place, it seems a waste of energy to just have us fizzle out. Maybe there’s a delicate mix.
Andre: Maybe. Well, here they come.
(Peter and Dan emerge from the woods)
Creon: Hello again, Peter. I thought you’d become a monk. You look the same to me. You look fine – maybe a little younger – but you’d probably be aghast if I tried to describe you. We don’t do that here, so I won’t. I think we see the inner person and transcribe it to our own culture. Anyway, not much change in you..
Peter: Dan was trying to explain that to me. Of course we were practically neighbors, so I trust his judgment. I thought I was someone else when I got here. Maybe if I found Letha she’d see me as Algar. I was a sweet looking kid.
Dan: Did you line up Mariam, Andre? I’m anxious to meet her too.
Andre: You two were easy. I’ve been trying Mariam. She should be here soon. Of course Mariam was always late and doesn’t like our mode of travel.. Other than anger, we seem to bring our habits with us when we land here. I have to keep thinking of her periodically. I suppose the pathway doesn’t stay open very long, to keep us from barging in on someone.
Dan: You’re becoming an expert on travel. Must run in the family.
Creon: It’s the nature of the place. You can be active or passive, but never a pest. Maybe that’s what squelches anger. What else is there to be angry about? We have everything we need, and we still exist. I think that was everyone’s concern, no matter what they believed.
Andre: Well anyway, here she is.
Miriam: (emerging from the grove) I hate this experience, Andre. I feel like I’m abandoning myself to the fates! But you’re worth it. I remember you, Creon, from my last trip, and you must be Peter and Dan.
Dan: I’m Dan. I’ve heard all about you, and share your dislike for the travel experience. The only place I’ve come is here. On the other hand we’re already abandoned to the fates. We’ll leave on an instant’s notice, and have no clue where we’re going or when that instant might arrive.
Peter: There, that should make you feel better! I’m still wrestling with the concept of being Andre’s dad, but he obviously has excellent taste.
Miriam: Thank you. He told me you were a charmer.
Peter: Probably used some less flattering term.
Creon: Is Delora coming? From what Andre tells me, we may have a bit in common. Vast distances apart, no doubt, but my galaxy also had interstellar commerce. I always dreamed of it, but never got the chance.
Miriam: She was with me. She’s waiting for your call, Andre. Guess you weren’t thinking of her when I came, and she couldn’t make the connection.
Andre: I’ll try again. Creon keeps bugging me – wants to meet a real space traveler. Why don’t you just call someone from your own planet, Creon? Must be some here.
Creon: I’m sure there must be, and I’ve tried, but no success. Maybe it’s a gift. The only ones I can reach are those I’ve met here. Perhaps I was just a pain in the neck philosopher and they all declined, but you’d think my mother would have shown up.
Andre: Mine never has. She wasn’t the rogue Dad was, but I don’t think she was a saint. Let’s see if I can get Delora. (Sits down to concentrate)
Dan: Maybe we don’t know what constitutes a saint. Maybe we don’t know much at all, which is why we’re here.
Creon: Maybe you’re more of a pain than I am.
Delora: (Appearing) Hello, Andre, Miriam. I don’t think I know anyone else, except that you must be Creon.
Creon: Ah yes. Black in everyone’s eyes. You’ve heard, but the odd thing is that I come from a chilly planet where everyone was quite light. Anyway, I’ve been eager to meet you.
Andre: This is Peter, my Dad, just back from monkhood, but I think it’s already beginning to wear off. And this is Father Dan, who seems to have been specifically selected to come here. I think whoever runs this place decided my Dad needed a guardian.
Delora: Yes, Miriam told me that. Might not be unique, but I travel a lot, and I haven’t encountered anyone else who found themselves with anyone remotely connected in their village.
Dan: I think it’s all random, but every once in a while God steps in to satisfy a whim. Who knows what the whim is.
Creon: I wasn’t sure about an afterlife. I didn’t dream of this one, though. Half the people on my planet didn’t believe, but I thought, if one existed, that I’d understand God, and life, and the universe. I haven’t learned zilch. I already knew there were other people.
Peter: Well, you’re all neophytes Apparently his is my third trip. Don’t remember much about the lives, except the last one, but I’m starting to remember about the intervals here. You’re right, Creon, we don’t learn much. From what I can remember, though, I think I’m going to like this better than my last life.
Andre: That’s because you’re last life sucked, Dad, and you can’t remember the others. The only thing that makes this tolerable to me was finding you and Miriam. Since I have no clearer picture of my future now than I did then, I’d rather we’d all be back in Columbus. I’m sure Creon feels the same way.
Creon: Not at all. I’ll agree that things were better before, and I have no clear picture or even a hint of my future, but my major question was always whether there is a future. And here I am.
Andre: Yep. Here you are - if you’re real. We had a friend, Mort, since gone, who insisted it’s all a dying dream.
Creon: I never met Mort, but it’s Dolora I really wanted to meet. I want to talk to people who have actually been to other planets. Since I haven’t managed to learn much here I’d like to gain a better grasp of the universe.
Dolora: Not from me you won’t. My passion was always the people I knew, and I never left our planet. My grandfather was the explorer. He’ll love to talk to you, but I’ll have to bring you to my house for that.
Andre: I think that’s why we’re here, so you could meet. Can’t complain about the speed, but the travel arrangements are rather cumbersome. You’ll have to get to know these people so you can call them.
Miriam: She’s a pro, Andre, always traveling.
Andre: Good. Let’s go have a drink. I’ve managed to construct a bar. Pretty neat, and no bartender required. You just imagine what you want and it’s there – more or less.
Delora: Well, you made it. I was trying for Dan too.
Peter: Always tricky to get two people at once. In this case he was out for one of his walks. Since I have no idea how or why this works, I don’t know if that makes a difference. Nice house. Did you conjure it up or was it here?
Delora It was here. No one was using it. I’ve never tried to build anything. Maybe you can teach me how.
Miriam: And me. I don’t want to build, but I’d like to paint.
Peter: Materials are easy to get for either one. The only trick is imagination, but it has to be simple, and you have to use it or it will fade away. I don’t understand permanence. Whoever built Dolora’s house is apparently gone, but the house is still here. I imagined columns of clay and a few simple tools, but when I left, the statues I carved disappeared.
Miriam: So all I need is to concentrate on an easel, a tray of paints, a brush and a canvas?
Peter: And practice and patience. You’ll have to make the paints, but I’ve done that.
Dolora: I expect a house would be a little tougher. I’d better see about getting Andre and Creon. I’ll try Dan again, too (Withdraws)
Miriam: Why the paints?
Peter: Well I tried to imagine paint, but it didn’t work. Not everything does. I finally wound up with a bowl of something oily, crushed up some fruits and berries for color, and it did. You have to be creative.
Miriam: I tried a guitar. I wanted some music, and got something that looked like a guitar but made no noise. After a while it disappeared. I miss music. All we have here are occasional songbirds.
Peter: Which is odd, when you think of it. The monks were always singing and chanting, and had several instruments which I was supposed to be learning. I think their vision of heaven was some gigantic choir which I found incredibly boring.
Miriam: Andre! (embraces him as he, Creon and Dolora enter)
Dolora: I found them. They were waiting. Haven’t tried Dan yet.
Miriam: Peter’s going to teach me to paint, or at least get the tools. I want your portrait in case you suddenly leave me.
Creon: Maybe you could do mine, too, and lighten me up a bit.
Andre: Bad idea, Creon. You know better than that. The first thing we learn here is never to describe anyone. I’m sure she could portray you any color you’d like, but it might make you look like what you’d consider a freak. I think any portraits should be private. On the other hand she could open a Picasso gallery where everyone looks freakish.
Creon: I won’t ask about Picasso. Wonder if this problem ever goes away.
Dolora: Probably. I’m sure Dan will have an opinion. Maybe he’s back from his walk and I can reach him now.
Peter: Never thought of it that way. I wonder what some people see when they look at my sculptures. Not that I really care. I make them for myself.
Andre: You like symbols, fairies, gargoyles, and I’m sure Buddha is lovingly grotesque in any culture.
Miriam: All right, I’ll keep your portrait private, Andre, but it might be fun to get some reactions. First I need some paints.
Peter: Probably can find what you need in Dolora’s garden or in the woods. I’ll show you how.
Miriam: When?
Peter: Right now, while Dolora tracks down Dan and her Grandfather. Can we grab a couple of those pots, Dolora? Whoever built this place must have been a genius and his ghost must still be around,
Dolora: Take what you need. He never haunts me.
(Andre, Peter and Mariam exit to make paint. Dolora gets Dan and then calls the grandfather.)
Creon: Will he come?
Dolora: My Grandfather always comes when I call him. I think it’s a universal knack that granddaughters have.
Candolor: (emerging) I think it’s a universal weakness grandfathers have. And who is this gentleman who wants to meet me?
Creon: I’m Creon. God only knows where I’m from, but we were beginning to explore space and even made a first contact. Then I found myself here. We must be rare. I’ve spent a long time searching, but Dolora was my first lead.
Candolor: And you? (pointing to Dan)
Dan: I’m an anomaly who thought he was an expert on the afterlife.
Candolor: An anomaly? I’ve met lots of people who thought that.
Dan: Oh, so have I. The anomaly was getting here and meeting an actual neighbor.
Candolor: Ah. Must be a statistic on that, but I couldn’t begin to calculate the odds. Well, Creon, I’ve been in this place quite a while too, although that’s an ambiguous term here. There’s only a small number of people you get to meet in the village clusters, and I’ve only met one other there, a woman, from a space faring planet other than my own. On the other hand, we’ve contacted several from our homes which gave us access to other clusters. A bit of networking and we have quite a club. You’re welcome to join, but why haven’t you done the same?
Creon: Mystifying but simple. I haven’t had your luck in finding a partner, and worse, I can’t contact anyone from home. Maybe we’re blacklisted. Anyway, I haven’t managed to network.
Candolor Ah! I’ve met two others, from different places of course, who suffer a similar block. They can’t call home.
Creon: It’s a much bigger problem than my quest for finding a space traveler. At first I thought it was a punishment, but for what? I was young, and compared to some of the people I’ve met here, I was a saint.
Dolora: Maybe everyone else you knew was even more of a saint and didn’t come here.
Creon: I’m sure that’s not it. In any case I’ll join your grandfather’s group and maybe learn a bit about the real universe.
Candolor: I said quite a club, but it’s actually small. We represent ten stars. It’s like ten grains of sand on the longest beach you can imagine, so it’s a miniscule slice. It’s intriguing but it’s only a tiny sample. You’d probably learn more about our universe just interviewing all the people in your own cluster.
Creon: I’ve started doing that. Fascinating variety. We have a newcomer in our neighboring village She has some problems with our common language because she has no concept of common items like dishes. Very primitive. At the other end is a man –at least I think he is since they have a different method of reproduction. He’s not at all in awe of this ability to “call”. On his planet, he could transport himself anywhere he wished. Fantastic technology, but for some reason they never explored space travel.
Dan: Sounds like Star Trek meets the cave man.
Creon: What’s Star Trek?
Dan: .Fiction. Actually, they were all about space, but the technology was phenomenal and they met people as diverse as we do.
Miriam: (entering) Hello, Candolor. This is my friend, Andre, and his recently returned father, Peter.
Peter: Ah, the man we came to meet to satisfy Creon’s cravings.
Candolor: I’ve been wanting to meet you, too, ever since Dolora told me about you. A frequent visitor to this place that I never imagined.
Peter: I doubt any of us did, and it seems to be my third adventure. Maybe I’m unredeemable. What did you imagine?
Candolor: I imagined my remains would be recycled into succeeding generations and that I’d exist only in the memories of others. I was comfortable with that, and all I’ve learned since is that I was wrong. Maybe you’ve gained some deeper insights.
Peter: I think I’ve tried not to. Dan’s probably right. This is a holding pen, and we’re given enough to entertain ourselves while we wait. I doubt there are any expectations. We had them, failed to meet them, and now we have to try again.
Andre: Pretty philosophical for you, Dad.
Dan: A stint in a monastery will do that to you. Some of it must have rubbed off. Not that I agree.
Miriam: Well I do. I’m Jewish, or at least I was. We knew a lot was expected of us, not that what always did it but we felt guilty if we didn’t. I don’t feel any compulsion here.
Dolora: I disagree. There must be some expectations. Why bother entertaining us if we’re just waiting for the next opening? Wouldn’t cold storage be just as good? I’ve made a lot of friends since I’ve been here. Might forget them wherever I’m going, but apparently I’ll remember them if I come back. I think it’s part of our development without the stress of living. Sort of a break.
Creon: I’ll stay out of it for a change. I keep busy trying to figure out how this place works, and why it’s a little different for me.
Candolor: That, and what the universe is like. It should keep you busy.
Dolora: How’d the hunt for the paints go?
Miriam: Peter is very patient. Your jars are full of something rather oily and colorful. Andre’s going to turn the room you gave me into a studio.
Dan: You’ve tried Saddam? I see you’re building his crescent.
Peter: I tried several times, and I got a reply. I think he said “Soon.”, so I thought I’d get started.
Dan: Soon? He must be busy. The Buddha looks nice.
Peter: I wanted to rebuild that first. Didn’t want to risk reactivating Saddam’s ego, but he’s
probably working on a palace so it might be too late.
Dan: I don’t think that happens. Try him again.
(Peter concentrates and Saddam emerges)
Saddam: It’s been a long time. I thought you’d left.
Peter: I did. I’m back.
Saddam: In that case it was a short time. Did you even learn to walk?
Peter: A little more than that, but Dan thinks it was too brief to count. And you? You were going to try contacting some friends and some foes.
Saddam: I did. I join my friend, Ali, every now and then for drinks. We left together.
Peter: Ah, yes. He was the one who had the botched hanging. I just vaguely remember that.
Saddam: Botched?
Peter: Well, yes. The drop distance is fairly critical. Too short and you hang there and strangle which is agonizing. Too long, and it can rip your head off, which is gory. Depends on your weight. Apparently his was too long.
Saddam: I didn’t know that. Don’t think he did either. (Laughs) I’ll have to tell him. He’ll be pissed. He was rather vain.
Dan: How about your enemies. Contact any of them?
Saddam: Hello, Dan. Why, yes. First one was my son-in-law who was obviously a traitor. Caught a lot of grief from my daughter over that one because I promised all would be forgiven, but he should have known better and stayed away. You can’t forgive traitors if you hope to survive.
Dan: Must have been an awkward meeting.
Saddam: No, we joked about it. He said he’d try for a more tolerant father-in-law the next time. I told him to look for a Buddhist. Of course Allah only knows where he’s going, and they might not have anything like Buddhists.
Dan: Ever wonder what’s in store for you? Do you ever pray? I think Muslims are supposed to do that three times a day.
Saddam: I did try when I first got here. I never was any good at it, although I did have a lot of mosques built. Anyway we don’t have days.
Dan: Touche.
Peter I don’t think I was ever any good at it either, even though that was supposed to be my profession when I got back here this time. I don’t think what we do here counts. I think our record dictates a particular kind of slot, and we wait around for an appropriate opening. Since God, or Allah, or whoever runs this place seems to give us a free rein, he can never be sure it’ll work out. Sometimes we have to come back.
Dan: It’s called free will. You may have it right. As I’ve said this is a holding pen, although I can’t bring myself to say that nothing counts.
Saddam: Too much philosophy for me. I’m going back to needle Ali. Call me again when the crescent’s done. (exits into the woods).
Dan: You didn’t find out if he’s building a palace.
Peter: Doesn’t sound like he is. Probably taking a while to find the appropriate slot for his next gig, but at least we know people like him do come here.
Dan: Maybe we haven’t really proved much there. He did spent several months in jail after he was captured, and he had to know his goose was cooked. Maybe he repented while he was waiting to get hung.
Peter: Allah the merciful, huh. I suppose a mass murderer who promptly committed suicide might have been a better bet, but I didn’t happen to know anyone like that well enough to make a contact.
Dan: Wouldn’t have proved anything anyway. I think most of them could get off with an insanity plea. Except for rare cases like you, or children, I’m inclined to agree with Creon that we all get three chances. Why don’t we check in with Creon and see how his Astronaut search is going?
Peter: I’ll see if he’s home. I’ll try Andre, too. (a bell rings) What’s that?
Dan: My latest innovation. I modified the clock – sort of a Rube Goldberg contraption. When the weight gets down near the bottom, and needs to be reset, it trips a lever which hits a chime. What do you think?
Peter: I think you’re on to something, Dan. Let’s go take a look.
Dan: On to what? An alarm clock?
Peter: No, chimes. Music. If you can make one note, you can make them all. Nothing original, but I haven’t encountered them here although I’m sure you’re not the first. It’ll make Miriam happy.
Peter: (Looking at Dan’s contraption) Simple enough. Where’d you get the bar?
Dan: Just wished for it. Like you say, it was simple enough, and just showed up. I don’t know much about music, though, and wouldn’t know how to wish for a particular note.
Peter: Well I know a lot about it – one of our studies at the monastery. I wouldn’t know how to wish for a note, either, but given the material we can cut it to size. I want to take a break from Carving now that Saddam’s crescent is about done. It’ll be an interesting project.
Dan: Good. You were going to try getting Andre and Creon.
Peter: I’ve been trying. I think I sense Andre.
Andre: (entering) Hello Dad, Dan. Creon will be along. Just got back from one of his space traveler gatherings, and he’s feeling a bit gloomy. Apparently Candolar has left us. I tried reaching Dolora, but she must be off on one of her jaunts and probably doesn’t even know. Tried Miriam too, and couldn’t reach her either.
Dan: Damn! That’s a downside of this place, but it was a downside of life too. Was Creon there
at the time?
Andre: No, one of the group summoned him.
Creon: (entering) Andre gave you the news? It seems like I met Candolar in the nick of time. Fascinating person. I’ll miss him. Wonder where he is now.
Peter: Hopefully not slated for some lousy monastery. Are you sure he’s not just visiting someone?
Creon: Hardly my field, but I thought visits were usually short. On the other hand I’ve spent several long ones with Candolor’s group. But he’s the host, and rarely mentions going away.
Dan: Learn anything?
Creon: Oh yes. Wish I were back home with what I’ve learned. I’d be hailed as a visionary genius.
Dan: So would we all.
Andre: You’d be hailed as a heretic, Dan. Can you imagine finding yourself back in Utica and describing this place to your flock? I don’t know if your bishop would defrock you or institutionalize you, but I’m sure he wouldn’t believe you.
Dan: (laughs) Well I didn’t have a flock – I was a Jesuit teacher – but I knew the Bishop, and you’re absolutely right. He’d assume I was off my rocker, and God only knows what he would do.
Peter: Probably why we go back as a blank slate.
Creon: I think I’d be smart enough not to mention this place. Candolor taught me a lot, and some of it is testable. Think there’s any chance he’s just somewhere visiting?
Andre: I think Dolora is a bit psychic. Maybe she’d know. This is your turf, Dad. You can try to reach her if she’s back.
Peter: I’ll try. (Concentrates)
Dan: Maybe he could reach Candolar if he’s here. He’s good.
Andre: He proved that by getting Saddam, but you can’t reach anyone here if they’re not “home”. Candolar is obviously missing
Peter: She’s coming.
Dolora: (Emerging) Hello again. I’ve tried to reach my grandfather, but no response. He never goes away without letting me know. He’s gone. But you see, Peter, he accomplished something. He certainly had an impact on Creon, so we’re not simply here biding our time.
Creon: He did for me. Even had some suggestions for my black image and lack of ability to contact anyone I knew. If either of those pan out, I’ll be ready to canonize him.
Dan: I thought we had a monopoly on that.
Creon: It’s a term I learned from you. Most of the people back home thought the good might live on, but only speculated on how or where.
Dolora: We never gave it much thought. Maybe our world was too easy. Ample food, pleasant climate, few diseases. No need to conjure up a better existence. When I left, due to a stupid accident, I was amazed to find myself here. Then I met other people and found out we weren’t typical. That’s when I decided there had to be a purpose.
Andre: Does Mariam know he’s missing?
Dolora: I didn’t know until I got back just recently. One of his group who lives in our village told me. That’s when I tried to reach him, and then Peter called. Mariam was out, probably collecting more material for her paints. She loves it, Peter. She’s probably back, or at least nearby. Why don’t you try her.
Peter: I’ll try. Or why don’t you try, Dan? You need the practice.
Dan: I’ll practice on something a little more routine. Mariam doesn’t like to travel. She’s apt to ignore me, especially since I doubt if I could get a coherent message into the call.
Andre: You do it, Dad. Think we should plan some kind of memorial? He had a pretty big group.
Dolora: Pretty big and pretty scattered. I think it would be a major undertaking, and I doubt if Candolor would approve.
Peter: I’ll get Mariam.
Andre: All right. At least we can go and toll Dan’s new bell, get him to say a few words, and then have a couple rounds of toasts. I think Candolor would go along with that.
Andre: Well, I think our send off went very well, Dan. Nice little sermon, considering that your audience consisted of a jew, a pagan, a couple agnostics, and me.
Dan: I take it your Dad’s become the pagan? It’s Jesuit training. No progress here, but we’re missionaries, used to handling a diverse gathering.
Peter: Hmm. Pagan. Maybe my next statue should be Zeus, although our monks didn’t believe in statues.
Andre: Bachus might be a better choice, Dad. I like the Crescent, by the way. What’s with the horse?
Peter: The horse is Barack, Mohammad’s heavenly steed. Muslims don’t like statues either, Saddam told me, but a horse is OK.
Andre: You were going to try to reach him. I haven’t met the old devil yet, but I’d like to. Have to get back home soon though. Mariam wants me to come see her gallery. She’s probably calling already.
Peter: I’ll try again now.
Dan: Mariam liked the idea of the bells. She’ll have Peter working on a grand piano next.
Andre: I think she’d settle for a guitar.
Saddam: (Emerging) Ah, it’s done. Is that Baraq? I used to wonder if he had wings, but didn’t believe the story anyway so it didn’t make much difference. Nice touch though. Who are you?
Andre: I’m.Andre, Peter’s son from his previous incarnation. I recognize you.
Saddam: That’s nice. No one else does except the ones I manage to contact. At first I thought your dad was just a persistent pain with a grudge, but I’m glad I gave in. We were both second timers, which was supposed to be our last chance, but now that he’s made it back again I’ve developed a new philosophy.
Dan: I thought you hated philosophy.
Saddam: I did, but I was an important man of action who ruled an important country and had an awesome future, perhaps the next Caliph. No time for that nonsense. Now I’ve got nothing but time. No importance, no need for action, and my country is like a speck of dust in the universe.
Peter: So what’s your new philosophy?
Saddam: I’ve concluded that we’ll keep coming back until we get it right, whatever right is. Then we’ll advance. Maybe not to paradise. Maybe this is a long stairway, and we’re stuck on the second step. If this is eternity we’ve got forever.
Dan: Wow! You’ve changed. When did all this happen? An epiphany? I thought you were still rather feisty last time you were here.
Saddam: I can still be feisty. I got a call from an ex-mistress a while ago. Never thought she had much of a brain, but she turned out to be quite persuasive.
Dan: There, Peter. Another example that what we do here counts. What did she say?
Saddam: I can’t even remember. Sometimes women prattle on, and it’s only later you realize they made their point. She did tell me to call her. I was just going to do that when you called, Peter, and I think I will. Give the horse some wings. (Exits)
Andre: Well, I’ve met an arch villain. Not quite the ogre I expected, but that seems to be the characteristic of this place. He may be right that all we have is time, but Mariam still manages to get impatient so I’m leaving too. I’m sure she’ll b wanting you two to come see the gallery so I might see you soon. (Exits)
Dan: Well, what do you think?
Peter: About wings for Barack?
Dan: Of course not. Who the hell cares about a damn horse whom, I’m sure, never existed.
Besides, he presumeably flew from the dome of the rock to paradise and there’s no air in space. Wings wouldn’t even work.
Peter: They might for a mythical horse. I think I’ll add a pair.
Dan: What do you think of his theory that we keep coming back here until we get it right?
Peter: I suppose it eliminates hell and damnation from the equation, which probably appeals to Saddam. For that matter I never cared for the concept either.
Dan: Except for a few fire-and-brimstone preachers, I doubt if hell appeals to anyone; but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. If we’re guaranteed eventual success then what’s the point?
Peter: Who knows. Maybe it’s just a divine game we’re not smart enough to understand. I still don’t think anything we do here is important since it’s all forgotten when we go back.
Dan: I think we should have a drink. Andre isn’t here, but I’m sure he’d agree.