DRAMATIC WORK

By Gregory Von Dare

A ten-minute sci-fi comedy about serious stuff.

 

CAST:

TODD: A nerdy guy in his mid-30s. Average height and build. Kind of an annoy­ing voice.

GINNY:  She is ath­let­ic and moves with the fluid grace of a dancer. Early 20s. Excited and full of life.

 

SYNOPSIS:

We’re many years in the future. Ginny is a highly advanced android robot-girl with a pow­er­ful arti­fi­cial intel­li­gence. One day, she dis­cov­ers reli­gion and wants to explore it. Todd, her owner and boyfriend, is not too keen on the idea and tries to con­vince her that it is an out­mod­ed concept. Ginny usually gets what she wants, but Todd has the all-pow­er­ful password.

SCENE:

A casual living module. Date: 2110 AD

 

LIGHTS UP ON:

TODD is a man in his mid-30s—average height, weight, and build. He stands in a circle of brighter light and is dressed in a loose gray T‑shirt with match­ing sweat shorts and sandals. Nerdy glasses and weird haircut. 

Todd faces down­stage. His head is slight­ly raised, and he stares straight ahead. He makes ges­tures with his hands and the light shining on him changes color and inten­si­ty. He’s con­trol­ling a holo­graph­ic display which he can see but we can’t. 

A melodic, elec­tron­ic sound. TING!

 

TODD:

(friend­ly)

Ginny! (pause) Ginny, my toast is done. I heard the bell go ding! Hey, baby?

GINNY enters. She is pretty, lithe, and grace­ful, looks about 22. Ginny is vital and full of energy. Her big eyes are open very wide, and her smile is broad and bright. You might mistake her for an aer­o­bics instructor. 

Ginny wears casual clothes and sneak­ers. She also wears an unusual, silver head­band with blink­ing LEDs set into it.

GINNY:

(loving and real)

What is it, Todd? My sexy man.

Todd grins and shakes his head. He adores her. 

TODD:

The thing just rang for my toast, would you bring it? I’m in the middle of my news feed.

GINNY:

Sure. You want soy butter or spir­uli­na jam?

TODD:

Lightly but­tered.

GINNY:

Got it.

With a bright smile, she turns and exits. Todd returns to the holo­graph. (beat) He reacts to some­thing he has seen.

TODD:

Ginny?

Ginny comes back car­ry­ing a small, carbon-fiber plate with two large crack­ers, browned and lightly but­tered. She hands the plate to Todd. He smiles at her, and she smiles back.

 

TODD:

I just saw a report that teenage suicide is at a record high. Do you have a ref­er­ence for a person named Kurt Cobain?

GINNY:

Wikipedia?

TODD:

Perfect. Abstract it.

Ginny’s head bobs up and down several times. She smiles.

GINNY:

84. Musi­cian, Seattle, late twen­ti­eth century, major force in “grunge” rock. Married Court­ney Love, died by suicide. His number one song was called “Smells Like Teen Spirit,” what­ev­er that means. None of his music sur­vived the great crash of ’84.

Todd munches on a cracker.

TODD:

What crash?

GINNY:

Wikipedia again?

TODD:

Sure.

GINNY:

In the year 2084, due to a mal­func­tion, the HE-MAN weather satel­lite fell out of orbit and crashed into the Library of Con­gress. It wiped out all twen­ti­eth century music except for Van­ge­lis and Gogi Grant. The Chinese Digital Pavil­ion was able to replace about eighty percent of what was lost. Unfor­tu­nate­ly, no more Kurt Cobain. I could play some­thing by Pearl Jam? Eddie Vedder on guitar.

TODD:

Mmm … No thanks. (He brushes crumbs off his shirt) So, what are you doing today?

 

GINNY:

(ten­ta­tive)

Oh, busy-busy-busy. A couple of online errands and I have to repair the heat-exchang­er. It’s not very well made. Then I was going to harvest some veggies from the aqua-pono tank and make us a lovely green salad with roasted soy-chicken for dinner. And you?

TODD:

Yeah, I’m busy too. Have to run a proton scan of aster­oid BUS-131. The council thinks it may be full of beryl­li­um, worth a fortune. Call it two … maybe three hours.

GINNY:

OK, then. I guess I’ll see you later.

She loiters, doesn’t want to go. She looks down at the floor.

TODD:

Right as a riddle. (pause) Gin? Any­thing wrong? Some­thing both­er­ing you?

GINNY:

It’s all good.

Her body lan­guage is not so sure.

TODD:

Really?

GINNY:

I’ve been having some funny thoughts. It’s not important.

TODD:

Funny like a joke? Two astro­nauts re-enter a bar? (crick­ets) Get it? Re-enter? Come on now. Open up for the Toddster.

GINNY:

I don’t want to talk about it.

TODD:

Wait. Are you unhappy about something?

 

GINNY:

(yes)

Not really.

TODD:

Come on, don’t you trust me?

GINNY:

Todd … I love you. I adore you. Do I trust you? What a silly question.

TODD:

So, what’s bugging you?

Her skin crawls, and she wrig­gles in place.

GINNY:

Why did you say that? I hate bugs, all bugs. And glitches.

TODD:

Come on, GinGin. Let it out. You’ll feel better. Bring in the Bravery Balls and let’s talk. And here. Take this back too.

He hands her the empty plate.

GINNY:

Got it.

She takes the plate from him and walks out. In a few moments she returns with two big (about 30” diam­e­ter) workout balls of heavy plastic. Ginny sits on one and rolls one to Todd. He sits too. They bobble, very lightly. Todd speaks through this action.

TODD:

I’m at a loss, you know? We had a big talk last week and you said every­thing was great, couldn’t be better. You had a really pos­i­tive tune-up. That lump on your foot turned out to be nothing but a loose screw. So, what­ev­er it is, you can tell me. OK?

GINNY:

Speak your mind and sit up tall, when you’re on a bravery ball.

Ginny takes a big, deep breath and lets it out.

GINNY:

Let’s see now … where to start? You know that antique wooden case with the shelves? The one on the back deck?

TODD:

The old bookcase?

GINNY:

Yes. Yes. Book­case. I’ve been reading some of those paper things.

TODD:

No kidding? Those are books. They’re ancient. If we weren’t under the climate dome, the ele­ments would have destroyed them ages ago.

GINNY:

Ele­ments? Like carbon and hydrogen?

TODD:

No, it’s another term for wind and rain and storms and things.

GINNY:

Got it. Anyhow, I found one called Moby Dick. It seemed to be an alle­go­ry for not getting obsessed and fixated. It was so inter­est­ing. There used to be big fishes called “whales” in the ocean. I looked them up. Pretty amazing, the things you can learn from those books. So, I went back for another one. It was called the King James Bible. I read the whole thing.

TODD:

What? Are you kidding me?

GINNY:

Oh no. For real. It was puz­zling. I had to look up so many words. I searched on the Super­net and it turns out that this book was very popular years ago. There are people who think some of those pecu­liar things really hap­pened. Isn’t that amazing? It was so long ago, so far away.

TODD:

(uneasy)

Right …

 

GINNY:

Then I found people who are believ­ers in this book. They get togeth­er on Sundays and hold a service.

TODD:

Wow. That’s right out of a history stream.

GINNY:

Yes, it is. It is.

She goes silent.

TODD:

And?

GINNY:

I want to join them. I want to become a Christian.

TODD:

Seri­ous­ly?

Ginny stands up and puts her hand over her heart.

GINNY:

I believe in God and the Holy Trinity!

TODD:

Todd jumps up to his feet.

TODD:

Whoa … whoa!

GINNY:

I want to be sanc­ti­fied and dwell in the house of the Lord forever! You know, I could be bap­tized. I’m entire­ly waterproof.

TODD:

Ginny! System: pause.

Ginny freezes in place. Todd sighs. 

 

TODD:

All right. Let’s see now. Ginny: system: status?

Ginny:

(stiff)

Admin­is­tra­tor password?

Todd:

Big­Bad­Todd.

Todd moves Ginny’s arms, bends her slight­ly forward and back, turns her head left and right (gently). But every­thing seems to work just fine. 

GINNY:

Correct. System Status: Nominal. System Memory: Nominal.

TODD:

Bio-memory?

GINNY:

Normal. All func­tions nominal. Bio-pump, normal. Nuclear battery, 88% full.

TODD:

Inter­nal temperature?

GINNY:

Normal. 36.5 Celsius.

TODD:

I don’t get it. Ginny: system: run.

Ginny returns to her normal, vital self, with a twitch. She’s off balance for just a moment.

GINNY:

Woooo!! You know, I get all dis­com­bob­u­lat­ed when you do that.

TODD:

Yeah, sorry. But I’m puzzled. It’s not like you. This is so far off your heuris­tic track. I thought you were into flower arrang­ing and photo albums?

GINNY:

I am … but …?

TODD:

It’s not a phys­i­cal problem?

GINNY:

I don’t think so. No memory leakage, no cor­rupt­ed threads. Really, I feel better than ever. This is a break­through for me. Some­thing new. This idea of faith and belief —it’s tremendous.

TODD:

But Gin … look, the whole idea, the whole reli­gion thing was dis­cred­it­ed in 2050 when the Arabs nuked Israel. Then the Pak­ista­nis socked it to India. And the Chinese oblit­er­at­ed Nepal … and before you know it, nine-tenths of the people on earth are gone.

GINNY:

Yes, I know. Wikipedia.

TODD:

Right. The ones who were left thought it was about time to get past this imped­i­ment. Drop all the super­sti­tions. Clear out all this myth and magic and mumbo-jumbo.

GINNY:

Exactly. You know how logical I am. Well, this just came out of nowhere. I want to go to church and sing “Onward Chris­t­ian Sol­diers.” I already know the soprano part!

TODD:

Hold on. For a person today, this is not right. These old reli­gions have been ignored for decades. People have moved on. Now look, if you want to med­i­tate or some­thing, that’s fine.

GINNY:

Todd, you’re not lis­ten­ing to me … again.

TODD:

Gin—

GINNY:

(pouting)

You don’t respect me and you think every­thing I want is stupid or silly. I’m just a machine, after all. Not a bio-organic ‘person’ like you.

TODD:

Gin, no. Alright. For starters, sin is an out­mod­ed concept. You know what’s right and wrong! You have a Level Six moral­i­ty proces­sor; you don’t need those old restric­tions. And … I’m sorry but I don’t think you can have a soul. After all, my dear, you are a robot.

GINNY:

I’ve asked you not to call me that. You know it means “slave” in the Czech language?

TODD:

What do you want me to call you? Android Annie, iSpouse, girl-unit, what?

GINNY:

(monot­o­ne)

You are becom­ing abusive.

TODD:

(frus­trat­ed)

I’m not.

GINNY:

I am going into sleep mode for eight hours, goodnight.

Her eyes snap shut. She stands immobile.

TODD:

I hate it when you do this. Ginny … Gin …? Alright, become a Chris­t­ian. Go to the ser­vices. I’m fine with that.

Ginny’s eyes slowly open.

GINNY:

Are you sure?

 

TODD:

Yeah. I just don’t get it.

GINNY:

Todd … this is very hard for me to talk about. You are a bio-person. Someday you’re going to die. I need a way to cope with that. I’ll miss you so much. I’ll cry till my tear reser­voir is empty.

She breaks down. Sobs.

TODD:

Oh baby, don’t be sad. Look, I’m still a young man. I’ve got a good hundred years left—maybe more. With a little luck, and a liver trans­plant, I could go on for ages.

GINNY:

When you’re ninety-five, I’ll just be getting out of warranty.

TODD:

We’ll grow old togeth­er, you’ll see.

GINNY:

We won’t. I’ll still look the way I do today, but you will be all wrinkly and sunken. Your com­po­nents will slip into failure mode. Your memory will be full of bad sectors. Then one day you won’t boot up and I’ll never see you again. (she cries) I don’t know if I can stand that. My wiring is all 8 nanometer—I’m very sensitive.

She snif­fles.

TODD:

(sincere)

GinGin. I’m crazy about you.

GINNY:

(getting carried away)

And I thought that if this God is real and if humans have a soul that con­tin­ues on after the body dies, then maybe I have some­thing similar. My firmware, my BIOS! And if that part of me can be uploaded to be with you forever in per­ma­nent storage, then that’s what I want. They call it Heaven. And if I’m good and kind and don’t sin, I can be with you there always and there will be no death, no obso­les­cence. No rust!

Todd sighs. 

TODD:

Ginny: system: suspend.

Ginny freezes.

TODD:

Ginny: system: reboot but without the 2.7.1 per­son­al­i­ty upgrade. Run.

Ginny’s eyes close and her head slowly sinks onto her chest. Her head jerks, her arms jerk, her legs jerk. Her hips twitch. Her fingers tremble. She draws in a quick, deep breath. With a SNAP, her eyes bang open and she smiles broadly.

GINNY:

Ooooo … did I, have a spell or some­thing? The room seemed like it went all wavy for a second. Okay, I remem­ber … I’m making a salad and you are … you are my big, strong, sexy man. Now what was it you were saying about flowers and photo albums?

Todd smiles. He holds out his arms to her. She approach­es him, smiling sweetly.

TODD:

(relieved)

Ahhhhh … that’s my girl. Come give me a kiss.

AS THEY EMBRACE, LIGHTS FADE TO BLACK.

End

This post orig­i­nal­ly appeared in Stonecoast Review Issue 18.

Photo by C. Doncel.