Megan (dinenglamor) wrote in mercuryfur,

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In absence of answers

Title: In absence of answers
Author: dinenglamor, surprisingly.
Brief synopsis: Wow, the fun part to fill in. This would be a short scene near the beginning (or possibly the actual beginning - I'm working on it) of a play. Smith is an intentionally insulting name. You're basically supposed to have no idea what's going on. If you do, you're doing better than me.

An almost empty room with a high window at the top of the back wall. There is a chair, on which the Boy is sitting. Smith is slowly pacing the room. There are a couple of men standing at the back, guarding.

Smith and the Boy are essentially contrasts. Smith is dressed well, though not too ostentatiously, and speaks with a cut-glass accent. The Boy wears clothes which look as if they have been on him for a fortnight and his voice betrays a considerably lower class than that of Smith.

Boy: Why am I here?
Smith: Good question. Why are any of us here?
Boy: What?
Smith: Do you know the meaning of life, boy?
Boy: Fuck you.
Smith: Interesting...yes, that’s the conclusion many have reached. To, by procreation, continue the human race. Is that it, then? (pause) No, well, you don’t know. If I don’t know, how on earth can I expect you to?
Boy: Hey...
Smith: Now, now, there's no point in being offended. You can't honestly think you were brought here for your intellect, can you?.
Boy: It's not like I've been told anything different.
Smith: No.
The Boy looks at Smith expectantly before giving up.
Boy: So you can’t tell me anything. Bloody fantastic.
Smith: I can tell you where we are.
Boy: Go for it.
Smith: You currently have the pleasure of residing in ‘La Casa de la Mosca’.
Boy: I don’t speak Italian.
Smith: Spanish.
Boy: There’s a fucking difference?
Smith: Subtle, though I’m sure you’d appreciate it. Though essentially pronounced the same, the Italian della is one word, whereas the Spanish de la is two.
Boy: Great. (pause) So we’re in Spain.
Smith: I didn’t say that. We’re in ‘La Casa de la Mosca’.
Boy: (pause) When I get out of here, I’m going to tell somebody about this.
Smith: That doesn’t give me the greatest incentive to release you then, does it?
Boy: So WHAT? What will it take? What do you want?
Smith: We need you.
Boy: Why? I’m nobody.
Smith: Exactly.
Boy: Oh, fuck off then.

Smith regards the Boy for a few seconds before exiting. The guards follow. The sound of a heavy bolt is heard.

Boy:, don’t go. Shit. What the fuck am I supposed to do now?
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