Characters:
1.
The Mapmaker/Ex-Geography Teacher (Lives in a
little work room, and makes secret things)
2.
The Stargazer/Upstairs Tenant (Lives on a roof,
and knows everything – almost – about the sky)
3.
The Time Keeper/Night Watchman (Guards the
night, the street, some doors, and counts the hours)
4.
Me (I live in a house with a small door, and
these guys are my neighbours)
Scene 1: Prologue.
Stage in relative
darkness. Four characters in their four designated spaces, frozen.
Each carries a
distinctive source of light that they can switch on and off, and they light
their own spaces when they speak. I am kneeling centre-stage, with an emergency
light. The Mapmaker is in the little workroom, with a tealight. The TimeKeeper
is leaning against the wall, with a torch. The Stargazer is perched on the roof
with a night-lamp.
I switch my emergency light on, and stand up over it.
Me:
Consider this. You are sitting on the roof of a building. Close your eyes for a
moment and you can still feel the height of five storeys between you and the
ground. Close your eyes for a moment longer, and the sensation will fade away,
leaving only you, disembodied, but contained in nowhere space. Open your eyes,
and you instantly know where you are. The sky above is lit by electricity that
burns kilometres below, in our cities, our highways, our homes, and by that
light, kept and kindled and kissed by the clouds, you know where you are.
I
switch off my light, and freeze.
The
Mapmaker lights her tealight, and gazes out over it.
The
Mapmaker: Consider this. You are sitting on the third planet from the sun. The
earth beneath you is spinning, shifting, whirling, thrashing, changing
direction every second, in infinite darkness, tethered to nothing but that
darkness. Open your eyes, and you instantly know where you are. The darkness
around you is lit by a massive sphere of gas burning millions of miles away,
and by that light, eight minutes travel-time away, a quick jog to the nearest
departmental store, you know where you are.
The
Mapmaker switches off her light, and freezes.
The
Stargazer turns his light on beside him.
The
Stargazer: Consider this. You are sitting on a spaceship thousands of light
years from Earth. The little cage of metal is hurtling at impossible speeds,
away from everything you know, catching unpredictable trajectories as it
bounces off gravitational nets around dark planets you’ve never imagined. Open
your eyes, and you instantly know where you are. The universe outside is lit by
millions and billions and trillions of stars, burning millions and billions and
trillions of years away from you, and by that light, shooting at you from every
possible direction in space, you know where you are.
The
Stargazer switches off her light, and freezes.
The
Timekeeper turns his torch on.
The Timekeeper: Consider this. We
Killed The North Star.
The
Timekeeper turns his torch off. Everyone freezes, for a moment, then
simultaneously walks to positions for next scene.
Scene 2: Exposition.
A street in the
evening. The sun is setting in the west (floodlight stage right?)
Night watchman leaning
against the wall.
The door beside him opens, I walk out, turn, and fiddle with the keys.
Me (with back to audience, face turned towards
the watchman): Alright, Watchman Bhaiyya? Got some sleep during the day?
(Finishes locking up,
and turns around)
Night watchman: Ayy,
what can I say. I go to bed thinking I’ll wake up in six hours. And after every
hour, to the dot, I check my phone, thinking, I know it’s two pm now, let’s see
if I’m right. Three p.m, amirite? Four! Let’s see if I’ve got one more! Five –
can’t be right again –
Everyone freezes. A
hint of time and clocks spills out over the stage. (Projector/shadow/props?) I
unfreeze and recite:
The Timekeeper holds
on to incremental things
Like ticks on a watch, and alarm bell rings
Little rhythmic pieces
of the world, while it sings
The song of the clock
spreads his invisible wings.
They unfreeze and
continue with the scene.
Me: And were you right?
Watchman:
Everytime. I thought, after I finish school, I’ll get some sleep. Look at me. As
sleepless as a sponge.
Me: Arre wah! You finished school?
Watchman: Yes,
madam. Sixth standard dropout no more. Now I can count all the way till twelve
on my watch, on my calendar, and on my certificate.
Me: Very good,
very good. Achha, I’ll be out till pretty late. Might be back only by 6 or 7 in
the morning.
Watchman: Party? Did you finish school also?
Me: No, not yet,
I –
Upstairs tenant walks into view with a cup of tea.
Tenant: Goooood
evening. By any chance will you be heading to the outskirts of Bangalore?
Me: Why, yes, I –
Tenant:
Excellent. Seeing as it’s late December, kindly reminder to look up at the sky
between 11 and 4 in… that direction.
Everyone freezes. A hint of cycling stars and night sky spills
out over the stage. (Projector/shadow/props?) The watchman unfreezes and
recites:
The Stargazer lives up
close to the sky
And watches the night circling by
Looks ever outwards, looks ever high.
And ponders away deep
questions of why.
They unfreeze and
continue with the scene.
Watchman: Bit too hot to be late December, no, Mr. Upstairs Tenant?
Me: Is this
another Venus makes a line, triangle, circle with the moon and some star?
Tenant: Oho.
Venus, my dear is right there. What
you’re about to see are the Ursids. I wish I could come along, catching even
the brightest meteor shower has become impossible in the Bangalore haze, and
these are hardly the brightest. But alas.
Me: Earwax.
Tenant: Beg your pardon?
Me: My ears are blocked. What did you call these meteor showers?
Tenant: The Ursids,
because the meteors will look like they’re coming from Ursa Minor, the little
dipper, dip dip dipping into the horizon and ladling out some falling stars.
Woosh.
Nightwatchman (to a tune): Dip dip dippy.
Me: I’m not sure
I –
Tenant: In fact
the best place to see them from will be – oh Miss Geography, are you home? Miss
Geography!
Teacher looks out of the workroom.
Teacher: Shhh. Not so loud! I heard you the first time.
Tenant: Are you well?
Teacher: Yes! I’m well. You seem to be losing your
hearing.
What did you want?
Tenant: Advice.
Somewhere, near where this girl is off to, which has an unobstructed northern
horizon, and less to no light pollution.
Teacher: Where is she off to at this time of the night?
Me: A music
festival, but –
Teacher: Well, I did recently map the various levels of
light pollution in and around the city. (disappears
inside, scrambles around so you can hear some objects being moved about, and
tosses out a roll of paper) I doubt you’ll find the sky more interesting
than a music festival tonight, though. Looks like a shower later.
Tenant: I beg
your pardon, but that’s rubbish. It’s December. Why, the sky’s as clear as peak
winter city pollution can ever allow it to be. It will only be a me-te-or
shower, or I’ll eat my invisible hat.
Me (retrieving the map):
This is beautiful, Miss Geography.
Teacher: I wish
you wouldn’t call me that. You know I left teaching after I developed
agoraphobia. I used to have dreams of travelling the world. Now I have
nightmares of travelling the world. But thank you. You can keep that, if you
like. Plenty more where that came from.
Everyone freezes. A
hint of paper, gears and ink spills out over the stage.
(Projector/shadow/props?) The tenant unfreezes
and recites:
The Mapmaker lives in
her closed little cage
And dreams of worlds
on the pen and the page
Her cage never grows,
but her dreams slowly age
So she makes and she
makes, on a shrinking stage.
They unfreeze and
continue with the scene.
Me (stuffing the map into my
jacket with a smile): Thanks! Must be off now. See you later!
I exit through the compound door.
Tenant: Care for
a drink, Miss Geography? I’ve got my telescope tuned to a fantastic view of the
Sea of Tranquility (points at the moon).
Teacher (shuddering): Sorry. I was just about to
practice my scales. Maybe another time?
She disappears into
her room, and the lights outside dim, as the light from her room brightens, and
soft music can be heard.
Tenant (sighing): And
they wonder why the moon is lonely. (walks
out of sight)
The night watchman
settles comfortably against the wall and starts counting hours and checking
himself on his watch, gradually picking up speed, but getting softer,
accompanied by soft yawns, as the lights dim into darkness.
Watchman: 7 pm –
8 pm – 9 pm – 10 pm – 11 pm – 12pm – (Sometime
here there are some bright flashes in the northern sky – burning incense stubs
thrown across the roof?) 1 am – 2 am – 3 am – 4 am
The compound gate creaks
open and I sneak in with a bundle in my arms. A recurring spotlight from the
audience catches me three times, in three different highly suspicious freeze
frames at various points between the compound gate and my house door. The
fourth time the spotlight catches me inside the house, with the door almost
closed behind me.
Watchman (turning his torch on to speak): What
was that about? (Goes back to counting)
Scene 3: Rising Action.
It’s still dark. But
the Timekeeper has whispered his hours all the way upto 11, 12, 1 pm. The music stopped somewhere around 10.
Loud shout, scrambling from the roof.
Stargazer: What! WHAT? Quick – turn the lights on! Where is
everybody?
Lights come on. Sleepy heads appear at respective places.
Timekeeper: Of course you’d be the first to notice.
Mapmaker: Whatever is the matter?
Stargazer: Look
where Venus is! Overhead! This is a scientific conundrum! A mathematical
impossibility! An astronomical oversight!
Mapmaker: How is that possible?
Me: Why is that worth waking us all up at ungodly hours?
Stargazer:
Ungodly? Hahaha – yes, the hour is indeed ungodly. It’s 2 in the afternoon. You
never see Venus overhead, because Venus is overhead during the day!
Mapmaker: Are you sure that’s Venus?
Stargazer: Madam!
I am affronted, insulted, injured! Am I sure it’s Venus? Am I sure it’s Venus? Why, I’ll have you
know, it’s not just Venus that’s in the wrong place – it’s the heavens in their
entirety. All of it!
Mapmaker: I see it too, now. All the constellations are unfixed.
Timekeeper (softly): I’ve
lost count.
Me: I don’t understand! Are you saying Venus is suddenly in the
wrong place?
Stargazer: Hahaha
no. Oh god, no. It’s much much worse. I’m saying Venus is about the only thing
in the right place. And the Sun is
missing.
Me: Mazey ura rahe hai. You’re pulling my leg.
Stargazer: Check
your watch. And yours, Mapmaker. And mine, which I never thought I’d ever use,
because my watch has always been the
heavens –
Mapmaker (cutting him off): It’s true. He’s
right. Stargazer’s right. I’ve calibrated and recalibrated these hourglasses with
the finest sand in the world, imported from Siesta Beach. They can’t be wrong.
Timekeeper (a little louder):
I’ve lost count of the hours.
Stargazer: And my
chronometer, antique though it is, has been refitted with the most modern of
technologies, and loses barely a second in ten years.
Me: My phone says the same. And it’s online.
Timekeeper (louder still):
I never lose count of the hours.
Mapmaker: What do we do!
Me: Do?! We? Do?
Timekeeper (screaming now):
There are no hours to count!
Mapmaker: Hush, Timekeeper. What do you mean?
Timekeeper: We haven’t misplaced the sun! We’ve misplaced time!
Stargazer: And space. Look at those constellations! I have no idea
what they are!
Timekeeper: What we are
is lost.
There is a whining
from inside my house, and I duck back in, shush someone, and poke my head out
again.
Mapmaker: What was that?
Me: Nothing, Mapmaker. Left the TV on, that’s all.
Stargazer: You
don’t have a TV. I know. Or I would have asked to watch the rerun of Cosmos last
week.
Me: I got one yesterday, Stargazer.
Timekeeper: What’s yesterday anymore?
Mapmaker: Where were you?
Me: I told you,
Mapmaker. At a music fest –
Mapmaker: The
music festival was cancelled halfway through, because of the heavy showers. I
know. I can’t go to one, but I keep track, because I like to feel sad about not
going. That was at 12 am. You came in four
hours later. I was up practicing. I heard you.
Timekeeper: I heard too. But time’s all wrong now.
Stargazer: Heavy
showers? Heavy meteorite showers? I
was surprised myself at how terribly bright they were but the Ursids can’t
possibly –
Mapmaker (cutting him off):
Where were you?
Me: Nowhere. (pop my head back in and close the door
behind me. There is more whining, like I have a puppy hidden in my room)
The Timekeeper darts
ahead and stops the door from completely locking. Stargazer hurries downstairs,
while I try to push the door shut despite Timekeeper, protesting loudly. Even
Mapmaker looks like she’s about to jump out of her room. When Stargazer lends
his hands, the door is forced open, and both of them land heavily inside my
house. They lift themselves up and stare inside towards the right.
Timekeeper (walking towards it slowly is obscured by
the wall of my house): What is it?!
Stargazer (confused): What
is it?!
Mapmaker (frustrated from her
door): What is it?!
The whining grows more
excited and there is yapping from inside, now, and then running, and Timekeeper
laughs, like he’s petting a puppy.
Timekeeper: Areeee.
Who’s a good girl, then. Haha. What’s your name, girl? Aren’t you beautiful.
You know you’re beautiful!
Mapmaker: WHAT is going on?
Stargazer: What have you done?
He grabs me roughly by
the arm and leads me back out to the stage.
Me: I had to. I
found her. She fell from the sky in front of me and she was so small and alone
and beautiful.
Mapmaker (stepping down from her room): What do
you mean she fell from the sky?
Me: The star. The baby star. Polaris.
Mapmaker stares at me
incredulously and walks to the door of my house. There are sounds of playing
still emerging from it.
Stargazer: Polaris is three stars orbiting each other. Polaris
isn’t a baby star.
Me: She fell with the meteor shower.
Stargazer: That’s not how meteor showers work! Polaris is four hundred light years away.
Mapmaker (from the door):
She’s beautiful.
Stargazer: She’s not real.
Mapmaker: Of course she is. We all see her. She just – isn’t your
little star system. She’s something else.
Stargazer: A corporeal mythical construct. The Steering Star. The
Pivot of the Planets. The Golden Peg that Holds the Heavens together. The North
Star.
Mapmaker: And you stole her!
No wonder the sky’s unraveling – and time itself’s gone haywire.
Me: I just went to the place you gave me a map to – to see the
meteors you told me to see. And she fell
right in front of me! Look at her! If that means I stole her – you were all complicit.
Stargazer: Now
look here –
Mapmaker: It’s
true. It’s our fault. Now what do we do about it?
The Timekeeper walks
out and leans against the door frame.
Timekeeper: She
says we must take her back. All of us. Me, the Timekeeper to count the hours.
You, the Stargazer, to navigate the stars. You, the Mapmaker, to decode the
heavens. And you, too. Though she doesn’t say why.
Mapmaker: What
did you call us?
Timekeeper: The
names she gave you. Us. It’s who we are now, we’ve been calling each other that
for a while. Didn’t you notice? Our old selves are locked up wherever time is.
Me: Oh, that’s
just great. Everybody gets cool fantasy names except me.
Mapmaker: I can’t
go anywhere. I can’t go gallivanting off decoding the heavens – I get palpitations just stepping out of my –
She looks around and
starts hyperventilating.
Stargazer: Hey,
you’re okay. You’ve been out here for so long now. You’re okay.
Mapmaker: Too
much –
Stargazer helps Mapmaker
back up into her room.
Timekeeper: I can
hear her so clearly now. She’s growing so fast. You don’t need to leave your
room, she says. In fact, we’ve left
already – look!
I’m a bit hazy about
how this is going to be portrayed. Maybe just the mobile characters running to
the edge of the stage – across a couple of times – looking up at the stars.
Some clutching handholds would be great. It should all portray a lift-off and
movement, like a ship sailing off. We can do it with freeze-frames, staggered time,
exaggerated emotions, slow motions.
Scene 4: Climax
The street, with its occupants,
is now a flying ship, rushing through unfamiliar stars.
Timekeeper is looking
over the railing, as am I, as Stargazer climbs back to his roof and looks into
the distance with his telescope. Mapmaker breathes deeply and looks out of her
window. Slowly she breaks into a faint smile.
Mapmaker: The Mapmaker. She said. Yes, I can make maps.
Stargazer: The Stargazer. She said. Yes, I gaze at
stars.
Timekeeper: The Timekeeper. She said. Yes, I can keep time.
But
what do I keep when there is no time?
Stargazer: When the stars that I see have no reason
or rhyme?
Mapmaker: And there’s nothing to map, just a
star-crossed climb.
Me: Are we rhyming now?
Timekeeper: We seem to be! This is like keeping time.
Seconds
and minutes and couplets and lines.
Stargazer: What a strange feeling! Is this some kind
of sign?
I can’t seem
to stop, I don’t seem to care.
Mapmaker: Fascinating. Let’s try and break it – there
It
doesn’t work – it’s like fighting with air.
I’m
unable to just leave the meter nowhere.
Me: This is weird. And how.
I check in on Polaris,
and give her head a rub (hidden by the doorframe)
Me: You’re so much bigger already
– so hearty and stout.
This new
development – what is this about?
Stargazer: Does it matter? Look out there – look out!
Our
concrete ship of walls and roofs
Is
defying gravity, without reproof
If
I needed conviction – well, here is my proof!
Our
Little Polaris is real.
Mapmaker: She’s inside our heads, the clever little
thing.
Letting
us know she’s there by using the rhyming
Me: What a cute little trick – but
if you don’t mind me asking -
How
do you know where we’re going?
Stargazer: She doesn’t, that’s why we’re here.
I
think I know how to know where to go.
It’s
not all lopsided, I was thinking too slow.
I
just needed faith – it just goes to show –
There
are patterns I see, stars I can catch
Constellations
that are just a light year off track.
If
only I knew exactly what speed we were at –
Timekeeper: Well, I may be able to help you with that.
He climbs up to join
Stargazer on the roof. And I run out of the door, to join in the excitement.
Timekeeper: I realized now, we may not have time
But
time isn’t just about the hour, or the rhyme.
It’s
how long it takes for two stars to align
The interval between bar 8 and bar 9
Or how many
minutes since my last line
Light
years are easy when you can keep time
Stargazer: And if we gather all these points of
reference right now
Mapmaker: I can then plot them!
Stargazer: There’s that frown leaving your brow!
Mapmaker: And we’ll have a map that will then allow
The
ship to travel to where she needs to be.
Me: That’s
great! And all… only, where does it leave me.
Polaris,
I know why you brought these guys.
And
I was just there, I guess, so that’s why.
Stargazer: You do know, you’ll have to come out here
– just try.
Mapmaker: I can’t.
Stargazer: You can. And you have. Just try.
Mapmaker: Couldn’t you just bring me the data you see?
Stargazer: And go back and forth to see and retrieve?
That’s
not going to work, you see it.
Mapmaker: I see. And I sigh. And ok. But you’ll have to
help me.
Stargazer: One step and two – that’s all we’re going
to do
Me: I hate feeling useless, but
lately I just do.
Stargazer: Three steps and four, just let go of your
door.
Me: But most of all, what I really
hate more.
Stargazer: Five steps, and six – you’re doing so
well.
Me: Is
that, Polaris, I found you when you fell.
Stargazer: Seven and eight – my dear, you’re just
great.
Me: And
I love your little face, and what I absolutely hate
Mapmaker: I’m doing it, I’m here, I’m perfectly fine.
Me: Is
that when we reach, we’ll leave you behind.
Polaris nudges me out
of my reverie, and she tackles me in a hug behind the door frame.
Mapmaker smiles
suggestively at Stargazer and pops under her workroom.
Stargazer: What’s wrong – I thought you said you were
– oh.
She pulls him under
the workroom with her.
Timekeeper: I think we have enough data to go –
He looks over the edge
of the roof, spots the other two, and smirks. Then clears his throat.
Timekeeper:
Whenever you’re ready!
The other two emerge,
a little starry-eyed.
In unison: We’re ready. We’re –
Me: OW.
She
bit me!
I run out of the door,
rubbing my forearm.
Mapmaker: She looks like she’s teething, you’d better
stay away
Me: She’s
seething and fuming – what got her this way?
Stargazer: She looks bigger and redder. Just let her
be. Stay away.
Mapmaker kneels over a
large map, that she proceeds to fill up, with the mimed “data” Timekeeper and Stargazer
share with her.
Me: Polaris,
what’s wrong?
The star growls from
inside, and I jump back.
Stargazer starts to
say something curt, then changes his tone sympathizingly
Stargazer: It’s just better you stay away.
They hold up the map,
and Timekeeper turns north and points ahead.
I’m hovering around
the door. Mapmaker comes near to look.
Me: I’m so tired of rhyming – I
just want to stop
Polaris –
can’t you just let it drop
If we got
there by prose, would it be such a flop?
Mapmaker: She’s
huge! And strange, this doesn’t look good.
Maybe
we’re getting close, and it’s affecting her mood.
I
can see her swelling – she’s huger –
Me: Let her brood.
Mapmaker: And huger – she’s reached the roof! Just how!
Timekeeper: I can
feel her under my feet right now!
How
will she get out of the door?
Me: Just. Wow.
Stargazer: We did it! We’re here! Everyone, come forth!
The
end of the journey – celestial north.
Me: She grew up
here. The home of the north star. It’s beautiful. I wish I could stay here with
her.
Stargazer: I
never thought it would look this…fixed. Steady.
Timekeeper (comes down from the roof): It adds up
now, doesn’t it? Who she is and where she came from?
Mapmaker: And why
she had to come back.
Me: We’ve stopped
rhyming. Why aren’t we rhyming anymore?
Timekeeper (turning to get Polaris): Polaris!
Polaris?
He gets concerned
suddenly and runs into the room. We hear a cry, and some muffled sounds, before
he staggers out.
Timekeeper: She’s
dead.
Everybody stares at
him.
Timekeeper: She’s
gone. She must have died as soon as we reached.
Scene 5: Falling
Action
Picks up exactly where
we left off.
Me: No.
Mapmaker: But we
got here. We made it.
Timekeeper: Not
soon enough.
I walk in a daze to
the room and bring out a small bundle – even smaller than the one I carried in.
Mapmaker: She’s
shrunk so small.
Timekeeper: Not
before she grew so large that she trapped herself in and died.
Mapmaker: She
wasn’t well.
Timekeeper: How
do you know? Do stars fall ill?
Mapmaker: She
must have gotten sick.
Timekeeper:
Because she was stolen away. Maybe she couldn’t go back in time!
Mapmaker: We
can’t know that!
Timekeeper (whirling around to face me): Why did
you ever keep her in that small room? It killed her! She grew and grew and grew
and grew – and grew and grew and –
Mapmaker (reaching forward to comfort him): Hush!
We all tried our best –
Timekeeper: You didn’t. You brought her home and
kept her in a room! A STAR. Inside
four walls. What were you thinking?
Mapmaker: Hush!
It wasn’t just her – none of us thought of moving Polaris out –
Timekeeper: None
of us stole her.
Mapmaker: She
didn’t mean to –
Timekeeper (starting to laugh): Like a landmine
doesn’t mean to slaughter ten soldiers –
a giant doesn’t mean to trample an insect –
Stargazer: A
giant. We didn’t kill her.
Me: I didn’t?
Stargazer: No.
You didn’t. We didn’t. She was dying when she came.
Me: What do you
mean?
Stargazer: Often,
just before a star dies, when it’s used up all its gas, it swells up into a
giant red star. Then they collapse and die. Or become white dwarfs, shrunken
dead remnants of stars, that slowly fade away over aeons of time.
Mapmaker: She
wasn’t a baby!
Stargazer: We
just assumed she was, because she was small. Smaller than a star.
Me: So little. So
lovely.
Mapmaker: But she
was never a real star.
Stargazer: She
was old – very old. Billions of years old.
Timekeeper:
That’s why I understood her so well. She was full of time.
Mapmaker: She
must have known she was dying.
Timekeeper (at me): I’m so sorry. I was so shocked,
I wasn’t thinking.
Me: No, but you
were right. I didn’t know she was dying. I didn’t know if taking her home would
kill her. I didn’t think. I was being so irresponsible. And then I refused to
take any responsibility.
Timekeeper: It
wasn’t yours to take.
Me: It is now.
I’m staying. With her. Till she fades.
Stargazer: That
could be till the end of the Universe.
Me: That could be
till the end of the universe.
I start glowing.
Mapmaker: You
can’t! You can’t survive here! You’re not a star!
Timekeeper: She’s
definitely glowing like one.
Me: Oh. I guess I
am.
Mapmaker: She bit
you, didn’t she?
Stargazer: Is
stardom transferrable?
Timekeeper:
That’s why she came! She knew she was dying. She came to find a replacement.
Me: She came to
find me after all.
Scene 6: Denouement
Again picks up where we left off.
Me: Umm…goodbye,
I guess? Thanks for bringing me here.
Starkeeper: Since
you’re going to be the New Steering Star, North is that way.
Mapmaker (giving me a quick hug): I’ll miss you.
Timekeeper: I’ll
look for you every night. It’ll be like a light-year-long-distance
relationship.
Me: I guess I’ll
be watching.
I walk up to the roof
with Polaris bundled up under my arm and walk to the back, till I can’t be
seen.
Teacher: I guess
we should start figuring out how to get back.
Watchman: We are
back. Look.
The street isn’t a
ship in the stars anymore – it’s back to where it was, under an ordinary sky.
Tenant: There,
look. The North Star. We’re back because Polaris is back.
Watchman: Not
Polaris. Dhruva.
Everyone freezes.
Timekeeper unfreezes, walks up to centre stage. All lights are off, except the
torch in his hand.
Timekeeper:
Consider this. You shut your eyes for just a moment, and untethered, drifted
off into the stars. The dark and the emptiness is a spinning, drifting, wild
thing, that doesn’t know where it is, or where it’s going. Open your eyes.
You’re exactly where you knew you were. On this roof, five storeys from the
earth beneath you, lit by the stray light from cars and offices and streetlight
just a few meters away, staring up at the North Star. And by that light,
travelling straight at you for four hundred years before it finds you here, right
where you were, you know where you are.
END
