Again, thanks to my Dutch BRs -- Laswa & Saskia. Their support and encouragement means a great deal to me.
Note: I couldn't get my tilde to work correctly--not sure why. So I apologize for that.
From Part 3
“Pass the salt,” Dr. Post told his colleague, as the two voyeurs sat in front of a closed circuit television set, watching the love scene unfold between Sam and Suzy AKA Lois and Clark. “Popcorn is so perfect with such a hackneyed and cornball love scene,” he told Liz. “Now of course, if I were the hero, I’d be enjoying a Merlot in front of a large rock fireplace toasting a lascivious woman, bawdily dressed in flimsy silk barely covering the erotic locales, her arms outstretched and chained to the rock wall, her.... Oh, but I digress. I’m the villain in this piece,” he began, tossing a few kernels up into the air and catching them in his mouth, “and my job is to wear the black hat and to make Romeo and Juliet suffer.”
“You...” Liz Lathrop began.
“Yes, I know,” he told her. “I’m mixing my metaphors. Well, in a place like Smallville where the opportunities are so minute, that can’t be helped,” he said, watching the two embracing on the screen.
“We should be making our own opportunities,” Liz suggested half to herself.
“Well, perhaps this is where the villain accelerates things.”
* * *
Now for Part 4
“I don’t like that Tempus,” the five-year-old said.
“I don’t either, son,” his father told him as he came into the room. “How far are you?” he asked his wife.
“About one-third of the way through. We could finish it tomorrow,” she suggested, turning to look at her son.
“No, mommy. No daddy.”
“Maybe *you* should accelerate things,” her husband hinted, kissing her on top of her head.
“I’ll see what I can do,” she murmured, smiling up at him.
##########
Smallville, Kansas
Wednesday
March 16, 1994
“Mmmmm,” Lois murmured, responding to Clark’s kisses. “Later...let’s finish the scene,” Lois smiled.
“You’re a tease,” Clark told her, nibbling her ear as an attempt to get her refocused on his goals.
“Sometimes. But the scene’s kiss is coming up soon.”
“Okay, let’s get down to it,” Clark agreed grudgingly, as he ran his fingers down her arm slowly.
“Clark...! The scene?”
Clark sighed, knowing that once Lois had made up her mind, he would have to comply and delay his agenda.
Sam/Clark: What’s wrong with Gloria?
Suzy/Lois: Everything. She can’t even close the icebox. (Still feeling around for the salt shaker) Am I anywhere near it?
“Now you really don’t want me to answer that, do you, Lois?”
“Shush. Now go on!”
Sam/Clark: Yes, try twenty degrees left.
“There?” Lois taunted unable to resist.
“Lo-is? I thought you wanted to finish the scene?”
“Uh huh.”
“You’re not making this easy,” Clark told her.
“Since when have I been easy,” Lois responded, moving her hand to stroke the side of his face. “Haven’t you always insisted that I’m high maintenance?”
“But well worth it,” Clark said, kissing her again.
“Come on, let’s keep going,” Lois said. “The next part is all about the icebox. That should cool you down.”
“I hate exposition in plays, it takes so long to get to the really good parts,” he said, smiling. “But, okay. On with the play.”
Sam/Clark: If Gloria doesn’t close the icebox--just say--‘close the icebox’.
Suzy/Lois: And if she still doesn’t?
Sam/Clark: Then just say ‘that’s the girl--thanks’.
Suzy/Lois: What do you mean--that’s the girl--thanks? It’s still open.
Sam/Clark: A little trick I learned in the Marines, sweetheart--always assume that an order’s been carried out. Then if she hasn’t closed it already, she’ll be so embarrassed....
Suzy/Lois: Gloria isn’t a Marine--she doesn’t embarrass that easily....I’d much rather have a dog.
Sam/Clark: Dogs can’t shop at the supermarket.
Suzy/Lois: Dogs can’t rearrange the furniture. That’s Gloria’s latest hobby. Whenever we’re out, she borrows her mother’s key and sneaks in here and turns everything around. I nearly broke both my legs last night.
“Oh, forgot to tell you, Clark. The first scene has the three men searching the apartment for the doll with the heroin in it; and some of the furniture is moved, including a garbage pail which Suzy is now looking for.”
Suzy/Lois: Now where has she hidden the garbage pail? I’ve been hunting for it all morning.
Sam/Clark: (Finding it on top of the washing machine) Here...now you put it back where it belongs.
Suzy/Lois: Where was it?
Sam/Clark: On top of the washer. Where you must have put it.
Suzy/Lois: It was Gloria!
Sam/Clark: Oh come on now--take it easy on this kid. Her father’s just left them again. And her mother’s out looking for him. She’s been battered back and forth like a sawed-off little shuttlecock. So be nice to her.
Suzy/Lois: I don’t know if I dare.
Sam/Clark: Oh, speaking of the icebox, it needs defrosting.
Suzy/Lois: Defrost the icebox! Do I have to have a project every time you’re away?
Sam/Clark: And if it stops raining--try walking over to my studio and back. And no cheating.
Suzy/Lois: Did I cheat last night?
Sam/Clark: How about that old lady who helped you across Sixth Avenue?
Suzy/Lois: You were watching?!
* * *
“So were we,” Dr. Post echoed, as the hidden camera continued to record and dispatch the images to the two spectators.
“There’s not much to watch,” Liz told him. “I’m leaving,” she said getting up.
“Yeah, the lyrics ain’t much,” Tempus interjected. “But it has a good beat. You can dance to it. I give it a 76.”
Liz opened the door and walked out of the office.
Well, he was going to have to get rid of that one as soon as his use for her was nil. He returned his attention to the screen. Well, nil was the word for that as well. Nada, zilch, nonexistent, zip, goose egg, zero, cipher, naught, blank, nothing.
If he was ever going to set his plan in motion, the newlyweds would have to do their part. He picked up the remote, turned off the set and threw the instrument at the screen. Dr. Post opened the bottom drawer of the desk and took out a small metallic object almost identical to the remote now lying discarded on the floor and pushed the button. Since watching this 20th century kettle boil wasn’t helping, perhaps lighting the fire under the cauldron of a far distant time would be more self-serving and much more entertaining.
* * *
Utopia
April,
2121
In the blackness of the stage right wings, the depraved man watched his hated adversary call out.
“Dulcinea,” came Wil Kent’s painful cry.
“There will be no Dulcinea,” the evil actor said to his eighteen-year-old understudy who was standing next to him, poised to remove the cauldron from the stage.
“What?” Scott asked the older man.
Tempus adjusted his academic robe. “Just watch the pro in action and learn,” Tempus told him, and as Dr. Carrasco, he entered from stage right.
Scott stared at Tempus as the actor moved on to begin his scene. Once the lights shifted toward stage left and darkness covered the stage right area, Scott dressed in his blacks, moved onto the stage and removed the cauldron and then returned to strike two crates.
He placed the props in a small alcove so they could be ready to be used again, keeping one crate for his own use. He sat on the crate to watch the rest of the scene. Something about Tempus bothered him. He knew it was not simply because he had wanted that part of the corrupt Dr. Carrasco the day that Tempus first showed up at their auditions. He just didn’t like him and he knew from the moment he met him that he would never like him.
Tempus had been difficult to work with from the onset of rehearsals, but the director had loved the evilness the man could portray.
Claire wandered into the wings. She, as was Scott, had been cast in the role of an understudy--understudy to Antonia, Quixote’s niece. Her other job was as costume assistant. No costume changes were required at this point, but Claire spent a great deal of time in the wings watching her father enact the role of his career.
Scott gazed at her. She was lovely. She was only fifteen, but her maturity defied chronological labels. Scott looked back at the stage. It would be wonderful if the two understudies could be called upon to act together. Both he and Claire had been part of the theatre group since they were little and had worked together before, but Claire had always played children, while he was usually cast as her rebellious teen age brother, the delivery boy or the obnoxious son of the next door neighbor. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. He had gotten one lead part, but Claire had not been in that production.
The one opportunity to play Romeo to her Juliet had been denied him when he had broken his leg in a fall from a ladder. Somehow, telling people to break a leg for theatre luck, wasn’t in his vocabulary any more.
He glanced over at her and then pulled his attention back to the stage as he watched ‘the pro’ in action.
Dr. Carrasco/Tempus: Senor?
Don Quixote/Wil: Who is it crieth help of don Quixote de La Mancha? Is there a castle beleaguered by giants? A king who lies under enchantment? An army besieged and awaiting rescue?
Dr. Carrasco/Tempus: You know me.
Don Quixote/Wil: Should a man not know his friend, Dr. Carrasco?
Tempus regarded the famed leader of the Smallville Players. Wil Kent was no friend of the actor that stood in front of him. No! Tempus was his tormentor, his antagonist, the enemy that wore the black hat, his soon to be jailer--the master of all that Tempus surveyed.
Dr. Carrasco/Tempus: Senor Quijana
Don Quixote/Wil: I should prefer that you address me properly. I am Don Quixote, knight-errant of La Mancha.
Dr. Carrasco/Tempus: Properly? You? You madman! There are no giants. No kings under enchantment. No chivalry. No knights. There have been no knights for three hundred years.
Don Quixote/Wil: So learned, yet so misinformed.
Dr. Carrasco/Tempus: These are facts.
Don Quixtore/Wil: Facts are the enemy of truth.
Dr.Carrasco/Tempus: No, I’m your enemy. You have no monsters to do battle with other than me. You need to tilt your lance in my direction, not at windmills. I’m your worst nightmare.
Tempus walked over to Wil Kent and pushed him down on his knees.
From offstage, Scott, who as understudy knew all the lines and blocking, realized that Tempus was padding his part. Those last few lines were not part of the script. Several of the actors had clustered off stage to see what was going on.
Tempus looked defiantly at Wil Kent, challenging him to respond.
Wil Kent stared into the eyes of evil incarnate. During auditions, the director had selected Tempus because of his ability to radiate evilness. Now Wil realized that perhaps this was not an act--the man appeared to *be* pure evil. Why hadn’t he noticed it during rehearsals. Wil knew why--it was his own need for perfection--to have the best person in each role.
Wil raised his head. As an actor portraying Quixote, he couldn’t let Carrasco gain control--at least not yet. That came later in the play. He pulled himself up from where Tempus had left him and invented the next line to get them back on script.
Don Quixote/Wil: I do battle for my lady. And for her I would fight dragons.
Tempus grinned and returned to the script.
Dr. Carrasco/Tempus: So there’s a woman!
Don Quixote/Wil: A lady! (Softening). The lady Dulcinea. Her beauty is more than human. Her quality? Perfection. She is the very meaning of woman...and all meaning woman has to man.
Tempus paused and decided to fling one more arrow as he once again departed from the script.
Dr. Carrasco/Tempus: There is no Dulcinea. There is no world of your making, no world that epitomizes justice--no world seen through the rose colored haze of goodness. After tonight it will no longer exist--she will not longer exist.
Tempus turned and strode malevolently from the stage and through the group of actors watching him, and back to the 20th century.
* * *
Smallville, Kansas
Wednesday
March 16, 1994
Still in bed with the script in front of them, Clark moved Lois closer to him.
Suzy/Lois: You were watching?!
Sam/Clark: Only while you crossed Sixth. How about it, huh? Just once to the studio and back? All by yourself.
Suzy/Lois: Do I have to be the world’s champion blind woman?
Sam/Clark: *Yes!!*
Suzy/Lois: How about just a little old bronze medal now and then? I’m an awfully good loser.
Clark chuckled. “That’s going to be a stretch.”
Lois was about to poke Clark again, but thought better of it.
Sam/Clark: Much sooner have a winner.
Clark held out his arm just above Lois.
Sam/Clark: I’m holding out for you, sweetheart.
Lois closed her eyes to get the feeling of blindness, and felt around for his hand; but, as directed, he kept moving it around just out of her reach so that she couldn’t find it. Finally she grabbed it and laughed.
Suzy/Lois: Hey! You cheat! I’ve been there once already.
Clark smiled as he read the next stage directions. He captured her lips and kissed her. The script’s instructions had indicated a brief kiss, but Clark had no intentions of complying. With no director in sight, Clark ad libbed the rest of the scene.
* * *
That evening, Claire walked into the school library with just one remaining poster in her hand. She tacked it onto the bulletin board and went to the back of the library to meet the other members of her Don Quixote team--Keith Haley, Anne Holland and Rod Purcell.
“I guess the first thing we have to do is decide who’s going to do what,” Anne stated, getting down to business quickly, as Claire sat down. Anne, never a procrastinator, had called the meeting, even though the project was not due for another six weeks.
“Claire’s new,” Keith said to the others. “Why don’t we let her choose first, so she gets something she feels the most comfortable with.”
“Sounds good to me,” Rod said. And Anne nodded in agreement.
Claire looked at her three partners. She already knew that Keith was an actor, which made him tops in her book. Martha Kent had told her that he was not going to be at auditions on Sunday for two reasons. First of all there was no part in this play that was right for him. Secondly he had already received the lead in the Senior play which held auditions last week. The Seniors were doing ‘Godspell’ and Keith would be playing Jesus.
Claire smiled to herself. She had seen ‘Godspell’ when it was produced the previous season by the 22nd century’s Smallville Players and remembered that in the many revivals, including theirs, Jesus wore a Superman tee-shirt, something very much a part of the pop culture of her era.
*He* had played Jesus in that tee-shirt, Claire remembered as she stared at Rod Purcell--so much like her dreams of Scott. That tee-shirt stood for something and seeing Scott in it last year, she knew she was in love. She was only fifteen, her father had told her and she had so much time yet to think about things like that.
But now time seemed to have lost its continuity, its grace, its purpose. Albert Einstein said that the only reason for time is so that everything doesn’t happen at once. But now everything was happening at once. Time was folding in on itself--past, present, and future.
* * *
Dystopia,
December,
2121
Another night had gone by without bringing Wil Kent the oblivion of sleep. Characters whirled around in his head--Dulcinea, Karen, Dr. Carrasco, Tempus, Claire. The reality and the play were becoming confused within him. He looked around his jail cell. Was this reality? Or had he somehow become so immersed in the play that he didn’t know which was real.
“A Double Life,” Wil said aloud.
Ronald Colman was Wil’s favorite actor. Colman was the personification of the gentleman hero, a type that was perhaps already 'Olde World' when Colman reigned as a star in the 1930s and 40s. His idealism, integrity, and graciousness belonged to a time that has since disappeared altogether, especially now.
Wil Kent believed that he had brought back those values in his performances--an ethereal quality that took us back to Colman’s gentler, simpler world.
For such a gentle man, Ronald Colman had a core of strength, an adherence to his own code of honor--incorruptible and immovable. Wil had hoped that he, too, had conveyed that strength--that truth.
As a young actor, Wil had spent a great deal of time watching old black and white films in the Motion Picture Museum. Seen them as they were meant to be seen--up there on a large screen--not in the privacy of a person’s home altered into laser enhanced, colorized holographic representation. Twenty feet high faces of his heroes. Gregory Peck in ‘To Kill a Mockingbird’, James Stewart in ‘Mr. Smith Goes to Washington, Henry Fonda in ‘Twelve Angry Men and Spencer Tracey in ‘Inherit the Wind’.
Wil had watched Colman in film after film. Thinking of his own incarceration, perhaps he could now relate to ‘The Prisoner of Zenda’, one of Colman’s swashbuckling roles. Yes Colman could swashbuckle with the best of 'em, his comedic timing was priceless, and as a romantic star he was unsurpassed. He was saved from being too staid by a delicious wit, a twinkle in his eye that showed us he could laugh at himself and at others if need be. And always he shared that wistfulness--it was in his eyes, in his mannerisms, and especially in that voice. That modulated, liquid voice. His way of speaking, with the hesitations, the pauses between words, somehow conveyed his vulnerability as well as his sophistication.
But it was Colman’s Oscar winning performance in ‘A Double Life’ that now took up Wil’s thoughts. In that film, Colman chillingly portrayed an actor who so immersed himself in the role of Othello that he saw conspiracies where there were none; and in a jealous rage, killed the woman playing Desdemona--the actor’s own wife.
Is that what happened? Wil arose from the cot and began his nightly pacing. Am I locked in a jail cell or in the recesses of my own mind. Has the insanity of Don Quixote become my insanity? Have I killed my Desdemona--my Dulcinea?
No! It can’t be. He reached out to touch the confining elements of his prison. These cinder blocks are real. These bars are real and Karen is gone.
“She’s gone,” Wil whispered. He couldn’t shut down his mind or his torture. A diversion--he needed a diversion.
Her favorite song from ‘Man of La Mancha’. What was it now?
Little bird, little bird,
In the cinnamon tree,
Little bird, little bird,
Do you sing for me?
Do you bring me word.
Of one I know?
Little bird, little bird, I love her so,
Little bird, little bird, I have to know,
Little bird, little bird.
Little bird, little bird,
Oh have pity on me,
Bring her back to me now
‘Neath the cinnamon tree,
I have waited too long
Without a song...
Wil stopped the recitative in his brain--how long without a song? A decade, a year, no a mere month ago....
Dystopia,
November,
2121
The dozen members of ENCORE, the ENate Coalition Organized to Restore Elysium, sat in a circle on the floor of the sub-basement of the Martha Kent Theatre, where they had taken up residence since the Diaspora--since their world had suddenly and mysteriously mutated into a cold, callous, purgatory devoid of humanity.
“We have to restock our supplies,” Larry, the oldest of the group and appointed leader, suggested.
“Yes, you hunter/gatherers, and we nurturers have our assigned jobs to do,” Claire said, glaring at him.
“Stop it, Claire,” her father told her. “We had to divide up the tasks to keep us alive,” Wil argued.
“I know,” she admitted.
“Well, I agree with Claire,” Kia, a very vocal woman in her 20s told the group. “Who said the men had to be the ones taking all the chances. The women are just as much a part of this, and we need to carry our weight.”
“You do,” Wil told her.
“Yes, we paint signs, you march. We print leaflets, you protest. We need to be out there with you--out on the firing line,” Kia insisted. “You men aren’t the only ones who tilt at windmills. We can see the giants as well--the monsters who try to dissuade us from our quest--those who tell us that what we have in our hearts is dead. It’s not dead.”
The members of the group looked at each other and then back to the young woman.
“I remember,” Kia continued... “I remember opening night when the lights glowed on our stage, and the audiences responded to the performance with a fervor that stunned even the most sanguine of us. It was a phenomenon we were to grow familiar with at each performance: a sort of electricity crackling randomly among the audience for a time, then polarizing totally toward a massive discharge of emotion. They weren’t just watching our play, they were having a religious experience,” she said, pausing. “And that was due to all of us--all of us together.”
“Go girl,” Claire told her.
“Yeah, before the change, women were equal to men,” twelve-year-old Jessica began as she joined in on the side of Claire and Kia. “Elysium believed in truth and justice--values handed down by *your* family, Wil. And just because the society around us has become medieval and barbaric, doesn’t...” the precocious young girl continued, “...doesn’t mean we...our group...has to lose all we previously achieved. We’re here to fight this thing, not each other. We’re still alive, we few. We still remember what it was like before the change,” she said looking back and forth at the two factions. We have to stay together--to keep our commitment to freedom, beauty, and our way of life.”
“And a child shall lead them...” Scott said, putting his arm around his younger sister.
Jessica leaned into her brother and put her hand out to touch the emblem on his chest--the remnant’s of a Superman tee-shirt.
Scott glanced down at his little sister and then looked up to see Claire smiling at him from across the group.
* * *
Smallville, Kansas
Wednesday,
March 16, 1994
Claire looked around again at this group--a study group. It was far from the band of freedom fighters she had left a few days ago. A few days...was that what it was? Time made no sense now. But time was all she had.
Continuing to look at the three young people gathered around the table, Claire assessed them. She was going to need an ally and she had to figure out who she could really trust.
Anne Holland was obviously a very organized, intelligent and creative student. She wrote for the school newspaper, and was senior class treasurer. She was also captain of the girl’s soccer team.
Rod Purcell was an incredibly popular student. He had been elected senior class president; but the vice-president, Tom Mock, had been acting in his place while Rod was in Switzerland. Now that he was back, Rod quickly assumed the reins of the presidency and had a lot of plans for the last three months of their high school careers.
Claire, being an overachiever, was very happy with the three students who had been selected to be in the group. Being new really had its advantages, resulting in Miss Lane asking Claire which piece of literature she wanted to research instead of assigning it. Claire had, without a second of hesitation, selected Don Quixote. Then Miss Lane chose the three students to join her.
“Well,” Claire said. “I love this story. I’ve read the book a couple of times and ‘Man of La Mancha’ is my favorite musical. We did it in the community theatre group that my parents were a part of...when...when I was younger. My father played Quixote and my mother was Aldonza.”
“Wow!” Keith said. “Have you been on stage?”
“Yep, many times. And yes, Keith,” she said smiling at him. “Mrs. Kent has already recruited me for the Smallville Players. I’ll be auditioning on Sunday.’
“Too bad you weren’t here earlier. You could have auditioned for the senior play,” Keith told her.
“That’s okay. I think I’ll really enjoy being in a community theatre again. And I hear that this is a fine one.”
“So,” Anne insisted. “Can we get back to our assignment?”
“Sure,” Claire told her. “I guess I’d like to do the comparison of Cervantes’ view of knighthood, to Twain’s view.”
“Whew,” Keith said. “Glad you took that one. I think that would be the hardest part.”
Keith paused “Can I deliver the biographical information on Cervantes, the easy job. I really don’t want to *not* carry my load, but playing Jesus is going to take a lot out of me and I don’t want to promise something I can’t fulfill.”
“Would it be all right with you, Rod, if I do the summary of the book?” Anne asked.
“Sure,” Rod said. “I’ve read both books before, so contrasting the writing styles won’t be that difficult.”
“Well, that was easy enough,” Anne told them. “Claire and Rod have read the book so that leaves you and me, Keith. Do you know the story of Don Quixote, Keith?”
“I’ve seen the movie of ‘Man of La Mancha’ and know, I guess, what most people know--without reading the book, that is--that Quixote was crazy and he fought windmills.”
“Oh, it’s so much more than that,” Claire insisted. “Don Quixote has a nobility. He fights for truth and justice. He is childlike--ingenuous. He is endlessly curious about human behavior and about man’s slippery slope toward self-destruction. He shows us that a little bit of madness is necessary to face life and that the goals of one’s life is a quest.”
* * *
Utopia
April,
2121
A special amber gelled light shone down on Don Quixote who was kneeling just left of center stage. He looked up toward the sky and in a prayer-like tone laid out the rules for his own life--for his quest.
Don Quixote/Wil: Call nothing thy own except thy soul. Love not what thou art, but only what thou may become. Do not pursue pleasure, for thou may have the misfortune to overtake it. Look always forward; in last year’s nest there are no birds this year. (He closes his eyes)
In the wings, Claire placed a shawl upon her mother’s shoulders. Karen Kent kissed her daughter’s cheek and then in the role of Aldonza entered the courtyard en route to a rendezvous with one of the muleteers. She stopped, watching Don Quixote and listened.
Don Quixote/Wil: Be just to all men. Be courteous to all women. Live in the vision of that one for whom great deeds are done...she that is called Dulcinea.
Aldonza/Karen: Why do you call me that?
Don Quixote/Wil: (He opens his eyes) My lady?
Aldonza/Karen: Oh, get up from there. Get up! (Don Quixote rises worshipfully) Why do you call me by that name?
Don Quixote/Wil: Because it is thine.
Aldonza/Karen: My name is Aldonza!
Don Quixote/Wil: (Shakes his head respectfully) I know thee, lady.
Aldonza/Karen: My name is Aldonza and I think you know me not.
Don Quixote/Wil: All my years I have known thee. Thy virtue. Thy nobility of spirit.
In the wings, Claire Kent watched her parents. She loved them so much. They were the heart and soul of the Smallville Players. They were dedicated to using the medium of theatre to impart a vision of man’s commitment to man--to teach us all about love, truth and justice.
Aldonza/Karen: Why do you do these things?
Don Quixote/Wil: What things, my lady?
Aldonza/Karen: These ridiculous...the things you do!
Don Quixote/Wil: I hope to add some measure of grace to the world.
Aldonza/Karen: The world’s a dung heap and we are the maggots that crawl on it!
Don Quixote/Wil: My lady knows better in her heart.
Aldonza/Karen: What’s in my heart will get me halfway to hell. And you, Senor Don Quixote--you’re going to take such a beating!
Don Quixote/Wil: Whether I win or lose does not matter.
Aldonza/Karen: What does?
Don Quixote/Wil: Only that I follow the quest.
Claire moved closer to the corner of the proscenium and kneeled down. This was one of her favorite parts of the play and if she sat on the floor between the curtain leg and proscenium, she would be only three feet away from her father, yet the audience could not see her. There was something in his eyes, that Claire had not seen before. He was looking at his wife with concern.
Wil closed his eyes for just a brief second. *The song* was next and he had to put everything into it. It was the essence of the production--what the theatre group was trying to get the audience to feel and to believe in.
But what had Tempus meant when he said...? No, it was nothing, just an actor going up on his lines, reaching for something to say.
Claire stared at her father. No, what had flickered briefly in his eyes, was now gone.
Wil turned his attention to Karen.
Aldonza/Karen: What does it mean--quest?
Don Quixote/Wil: The mission of each true knight...his duty--nay his privilege! (He sings)
To dream the impossible dream,
To fight the unbeatable foe,
To bear with unbearable sorrow,
To run where the brave dare not go.
To right the unrightable wrong,
To love, pure and chaste, from afar,
To try, when your arms are too weary,
To reach the unreachable star!
This is my Quest, to follow that star,
No matter how hopeless, no matter how far,
To fight for the right without question or pause,
To be willing to march into hell for a heavenly cause!
And I know, if I’ll only be true to this glorious quest,
That my heart will lie peaceful and calm when I’m laid to my rest.
And the world will be better for this,
That one man, scorned and covered with scars,
Still strove, with his last ounce of courage,
To reach the unreachable stars!
The audience at the Martha Kent Theatre on that evening in April of 2121, all rose to their feet as if one person; and sounds of bravo echoed throughout the auditorium.
Claire wiped the tears from her eyes and beamed with pride, as her father and mother basked in the warmth of the love that flowed from both sides of the footlights.
tbc.
