Welcomeby Richard Stuart Dixon
© Richard Stuart Dixon, 2007
(Note: Performance of this play requires the author’s permission. Please contact Good School Plays for details.)
Production Notes:
• running time: approx. 55 minutes
• style: post-apocalypse melodrama
• suitable for general audiences
• 27 characters (18 female, 9 male)
• black-box staging (no set required)
Summary of Script Content:
• “Sector Nine” is set in the future, after a catastrophic environmental collapse. An urban militia controls the downtrodden masses, using their nominal leaders as puppets. An unlikely heroine emerges, leading to the collapse of corrupt authority and the regeneration of hope.
(This play was first performed on November 23, 24, 25, 30 & Dec. 1, 2, in the year 2006, at Gleneagle Secondary School in Coquitlam, British Columbia, Canada.)
∗Published Online by Good School Plays, March 3, 2017.
Go to:
Act One, Scene 1
Act One, Scene 2
Act One, Scene 3
Act One, Scene 4
Act One, Scene 5
Act One, Scene 6
Act One, Scene 7
Act One, Scene 8
Act One, Scene 9
Act One, Scene 10
Act One, Scene 11
Act Two, Scene 1
Act Two, Scene 2
Act Two, Scene 3
Act Two, Scene 4
Act Two, Scene 5
Act Two, Scene 6
Act Two, Scene 7
Act Three, Scene 1
Act Three, Scene 2
CHARACTERS:
The Royals:
Princess Edwina, 21, a vague young woman with a weakened mind
Princess Fay, 19, Edwina’s sister, also burdened with a weakened mind
The Urban Militia:
Captain Beryl Parker, 28, ruthless local commander of the Urban Militia
Sergeant Jimmy Steele, 42, Urban Militiaman
Corporal Madge Lagoda, 35, Urban Militiawoman
Private Billy Devlin, 26, Urban Militiaman
Private Tanya Nash, 25, Urban Militiawoman
The Spies:
Laval Vishy, 36, Paste Factory dayshift worker and spy for the militia
Yoyo Quisling, 31, Paste Factory nightshift worker and spy for the militia
The Visionary:
Stella Fair, 40, a wandering preacher
The Thieves:
Timmy Perkins, 14, homeless child who must steal to survive
Ricky Gunderson, 14, Timmy’s pal, also homeless
The Black Market Racketeers:
Lena Denmark, 36, smalltime hoodlum and racketeer
Beryl Hatfield, 33, Lena’s partner in crime
The Beggars:
Forbes Janova, 28, a beggar too sick and weak to work
Lady Dean, 37, Forbes’s friend, also sick and weak
Gerhardt Hatch, 46, sickly father of Holly Hatch
Hilda Beam, 50, a beggar too sick and weak to work
The Dayshift Paste-Workers:
Dinah Nadon, 34, Paste Factory worker, dayshift boss
Jenny Forest, 41, Paste Factory worker
Teddy Federalé, 25, Paste Factory worker
Tanya Mortensen, 27, Paste Factory worker
Holly Hatch, 19, Paste Factor worker, daughter of Gerhardt Hatch
The Nightshift Paste-Workers:
Nora Sandusky, 44, Paste Factory worker, nightshift boss
Gwen Burnside, 32, Paste Factory worker
Peggy Berg, 30, Paste Factory worker
Brett Underwood, 18, Paste Factory worker
Sector Nine by Richard Stuart Dixon, Good School Plays.
Act One, Scene 1:
(The DAYSHIFT PASTE-WORKERS are onstage. They’ve just ended their shift, and are waiting for the NIGHTSHIFT PASTE-WORKERS to take their place.)
DINAH NADON
The night shift will soon be here to replace us, thank god. I hate this filthy muck hole and our nasty little jobs.
JENNY FOREST
Aye. Making that muck they call “Paste” all day, up to my armpits in edible chemicals.
TEDDY FEDERALE
Paste, Paste, Paste. All day long, making Paste, my fingers crippled from the endless kneading.
TANYA MORTENSEN
We stir the chemicals in the Paste pots, though we can hardly afford to eat our product. .
HOLLY HATCH
And we must eat Paste or die.
LAVAL VISHY
Nothing else out there to munch.
TANYA MORTENSEN
It tastes awful, but keeps us alive.
DINAH NADON
Even the rich must eat Paste.
JENNY FOREST
But they can afford enough of the stuff to fill their bulging bellies.
TEDDY FEDERALE
While we who make it wobble with hunger.
TANYA MORTENSEN
Slowly we starve.
LAVAL VISHY
Too many calories expended, too few ingested.
HOLLY HATCH
The rich do not care if we die.
DINAH NADON
We are easily replaced by the hungry hordes who crave our jobs.
JENNY FOREST
The olden times were better.
TEDDY FEDERALE
The long-ago times, when folks could gobble a mountain of tasty treats for a handful of cash.
TANYA MORTENSEN
And yet, somehow, the olden-folk plunged the world into ruin.
HOLLY HATCH
Their greed spoiled everything.
LAVAL VISHY
Wanting stuff and wanting stuff, they toxified the planet.
DINAH NADON
And now there is only Paste and endless toil.
JENNY FOREST
We are cursed by the past.
TEDDY FEDERALE
We are the children of a race of brilliant idiots.
TANYA MORTENSEN
We inherit nothing but the ashes of a dead civilization.
LAVAL VISHY
Slowly we die in Sector Nine.
HOLLY HATCH
No happiness for us…no joy in this barren city.
Sector Nine by Richard Stuart Dixon, Good School Plays.
Act One, Scene 2:
(The NIGHTSHIFT PASTE-WORKERS enter.)
NORA SANDUSKY
Ahoy! Shove off! We are here to make Paste in the dingy night.
GWEN BURNSIDE
Get along with you! The Nightshift has no love for you daytime clowns.
PEGGY BERG
Moaners! Always wailing like helpless babies!
BRETT UNDERWOOD
We are the nightshift!
PEGGY BERG
We make Paste and laugh about it.
BRETT UNDERWOOD
Shove off, we say! You have no spirit!
YOYO QUISLING
Punks! Drag your sorry lumps back to your hovels!
DINAH NADON
No need to bellow. We are soon gone, and glad to go.
JENNY FOREST
Must you always bustle and brag?
TEDDY FEDERALE
Thieves and vagabonds! I ought to plant a fist in your gob, Nora Sandusky!
NORA SANDUSKY
Try it, and see how fast my boot will bash your mellon!
TANYA MORTENSEN
Let us be. We are tired from the Paste-making.
HOLLY HATCH
So many vats have we made, mixing the nasty ingredients!
GWEN BURNSIDE
You are not true Paste-makers like us! We night-workers do not end our shift with whining!
PEGGY BERG
We are vital! We churn the chemicals and whoop while doing so!
BRETT UNDERWOOD
We do not sicken like you!
PEGGY BERG
See how you sag? Weakness!
YOYO QUISLING
Make way for true survivors!
BRETT UNDERWOOD
Make way for the Warriors of the Paste-factory!
(The NIGHTSHIFT PASTE-WORKERS wade in amongst the DAYSHIFT PASTE-WORKERS, and tussle with them)
Sector Nine by Richard Stuart Dixon, Good School Plays.
Act One, Scene 3:
(The URBAN MILITIA enter. CAPTAIN PARKER blows her whistle.)
CAPTAIN PARKER
Pull them apart! Whack them if necessary!
(The MILITIA wade into the fray, and pull apart the struggling Paste women.)
CAPTAIN PARKER
Dinah Nadon! Why this unseemly fracas?
DINAH NADON
The Nightshift workers chose to torment us, Captain. They take pleasure in punching the thin blood out of our noses.
CAPTAIN PARKER
You are a shameless brawler, Nora Sandusky.
NORA SANDUSKY
That I am, and proud of it, Captain.
SERGEANT STEELE
Perhaps they need a night in the hole, Captain, with chains on their shanks.
CORPORAL LAGODA
Or a thrashing. We could bash each and every one of them senseless.
PRIVATE DEVLIN
Replace them! Others are crying out for their jobs!
PRIVATE NASH
Send them packing! Nothing but trouble from this lot!
CAPTAIN PARKER
No, no. They are at least lively. Too many out there are slugs, dragging and droopy. These are fit for work, and work they must.
NORA SANDUSKY
You’re a blessed virgin, Captain, a lovely beacon of hope.
CAPTAIN PARKER
Shut up, Sandusky, you thick-brained ape!
DINAH NADON
Clap her in irons, Captain! She is the root of all the trouble hereabouts!
CAPTAIN PARKER
No, Dinah Nadon! You work every bit as much evil as Sandusky, but in the whining way, corroding the morale of your crew. Now off with the Dayshift! At once!
(The DAYSHIFT WORKERS exit, pushed prodded along by the MILITIA.)
CAPTAIN PARKER
The Royal Princesses of Sector Nine want to see a Paste-crew up close, and you have been selected.
NORA SANDUSKY
Is there to be a bonus?
CAPTAIN PARKER
If you stand erect and speak sweetly to the Royals, you won’t be flogged.
GWEN BURNSIDE
(aside to NORA)
Keep your tongue in check, Nora. The Captain’s whips have barbs that tear the back.
SERGEANT STEELE
Form a line, you Paste-monkeys, and quickly!
(The NIGHTSHIFT PASTE-WORKERS form a line, aided by the pushing and shoving of the MILITIA.)
CORPORAL LAGODA
Should we fetch the waiting Royals, Captain Parker?
CAPTAIN PARKER
Privates, bring them forth.
(PRIVATES DEVLIN and NASH exit.)
CAPTAIN PARKER
Stand smartly, you vagabonds!
(The NIGHTSHIFT PASTE-WORKERS straighten up sullenly.)
CAPTAIN PARKER
Don’t forget…a flogging for you all if you speak rudely to the royals!
(The PRIVATES enter with PRINCESS EDWINA and PRINCESS FAY.)
CAPTAIN PARKER
Bend your necks before the Royal Princesses!
(The NIGHTSHIFT PASTE-WORKERS bow their heads as the LITTLE PRINCESSES move into the centre of things.)
PRINCESS EDWINA
Are these the Paste-makers?
CAPTAIN PARKER
Yes, your Highness…a particle of them…a sub-group of the much-vaunted Nightshift.
PRINCESS FAY
They look like thieves.
CAPTAIN PARKER
Honest work keeps them from misadventure, your Highness.
PRINCESS EDWINA
Which one is in charge?
CAPTAIN PARKER
(pointing to Nora)
That one…Nora Sandusky.
PRINCESS FAY
Ask her a question, Edwina.
PRINCESS EDWINA
(approaching Nora as if she was somehow contaminated)
How do you like making Paste?
NORA SANDUSKY
Your Paste factory is a joy, your Honour.
PRINCESS FAY
Joy?
PRINCESS EDWINA
What do you mean by “joy”?
NORA SANDUSKY
Something beyond slippery words, your excellency.
PRINCESS FAY
Joy. What is “joy”, Captain?
CAPTAIN PARKER
A feeling of exhaltation they extract from drudgery, your Highness.
PRINCESS EDWINA
(pointing to Peggy Berg)
That one…why is she so little?
CAPTAIN PARKER
Some of them are thrown up from the Death-Swamps beyond Sector Nine, and land among us. They are always small.
PRINCESS FAY
The Death Swamps! How horrid!
PRINCESS EDWINA
(speaking to Peggy Berg)
Do you get enough Paste, little one?
PEGGY BERG
Enough to stop the colly-wobble shivers in my belly, your Highness, please and thank you.
PRINCESS FAY
My royal sister and I might invite one of you to our quarters some day for a cup of something.
PRINCESS EDWINA
There might be a lottery…perhaps your name will be drawn. Take us back to the fortress, Captain. This is becoming tiresome.
CAPTAIN PARKER
As you command, your Highness. Privates Devlin and Nash! Escort the Royal Princesses to the comfort of their carry-chair.
PRIVATES DEVLIN AND NASH
With alacrity, Captain!
(The PRIVATES escort the PRINCESSES offstage.)
CAPTAIN PARKER
Now into the factory with you! No more squandering of time! Paste must be made!
(The NIGHTSHIFT PASTE-WORKERS exit.)
CAPTAIN PARKER
Such rabble! The sight of their weasel mugs makes me want to upchuck my Paste.
SERGEANT STEELE
And yet they are among the best.
CORPORAL LAGODA
The true beggars of Sector Nine are vile beyond description.
CAPTAIN PARKER
We must attend to the brainless Princesses.
(They exit.)
Sector Nine by Richard Stuart Dixon, Good School Plays.
Act One, Scene 4:
(The BEGGARS enter. They are nothing but a bundle of old rags, limping and addled.)
FORBES JANOVA
So hungry am I for any digestable thing.
LADY DEAN
Weak am I from disease. No meat on my brittle bones.
GERHARDT HATCH
Sector Nine will kill us all, and soon.
HILDA BEAM
Sector Nine, the place of awkward death.
FORBES JANOVA
Lucky are those who can make Paste and be paid.
LADY DEAN
Shut up about it, Forbes. What use is carping on their good fortune?
GERHARDT HATCH
My noddy head is bobbling again. The sickness persists and spreads.
HILDA BEAM
To think I once had an egg.
FORBES JANOVA
Tell us, what is an egg?
HILDA BEAM
A roundish shell the size of a baby’s fist and oh so fragile with sloppy stuff inside.
LADY DEAN
Where did it come from?
HILDA BEAM
Squeezed from the bum of a chicken, which was a bird, which was a creature that could fly, but chickens could only flap about on the ground.
GERHARDT HATCH
You talk stupid, Hilda Beam. You are old and daft. Egg! Chicken! Flapping but not flying! All stupid!
HILDA BEAM
I swear it is as true as my left foot, which is here, see?
(She shows her diseased left foot to them.)
FORBES JANOVA
And the egg slop? What use was that?
HILDA BEAM
Boiled it became a sort of edible latex much better than Paste.
LADY DEAN
We are beggars…not even Paste for us.
GERHARDT HATCH
Only a bit of tainted rat, or perhaps a few crawly bugs…a diet that slowly kills.
HILDA BEAM
Once there was food of all sorts, even for the poor.
(STELLA FAIR enters.)
STELLA FAIR
Beggars! I beg you! Listen to my preaching!
FORBES JANOVA
Preaching does nothing to fatten my dwindling bod.
LADY DEAN
Words have no calories…why should I listen?
GERHARDT HATCH
If you expect Paste for your preaching, you will get less than nothing from us.
HILDA BEAM
If only each word was an egg, plopping out of your preacher’s mouth.
ALL THE BEGGARS
Eggs, eggs…if only each word was an egg!
STELLA FAIR
Beggars! I know how you hunger! Your upturned mugs are gaunt, and your pocked skin is alive with disease!
GERHARDT HATCH
Useless! You spout the ugly truth!
FORBES JANOVA
Preacher, give us beauty!
LADY DEAN
Preacher, give us warmth!
HILDA BEAM
Preacher, give us comfort!
ALL THE BEGGARS
Give us! Give us!
GERHARDT HATCH
Fill our empty brain-bellies with fat, heavy words of hope, in the name of god!
STELLA FAIR
My poor, poor beggars! No despair, my dears! Beauty, warmth, and comfort are yonder, just around the corner of time!
ALL THE BEGGARS
We have no time!
GERHARDT HATCH
Death blocks our future!
HILDA BEAM
Preacher, we don’t want your senseless babble!
LADY DEAN We need protein!
FORBES JANOVA
If you truly love us, chop off your arm and give it to us!
GERHARDT HATCH
We will roast it and sup!
ALL THE BEGGARS
Your arm! Your arm! Chop off your arm!
STELLA FAIR
Munch my arm now, my beggars, and you will be hungry again tomorrow. I speak to you of a leader, a hero who will give you your daily Paste!
ALL THE BEGGARS
Who? Who?
STELLA FAIR
A worker! An honest toiler! A common Paste-maker!
GERHARDT HATCH
Where and when?
STELLA FAIR
Soon, soon…around the corner of time.
HILDA BEAM
For us there is no “soon”.
LADY DEAN
There is only the awful “now”.
FORBES JANOVA
The awful, pain-wracked “now”.
STELLA FAIR
You are shinnying up the thorny stalk of poverty, my beggars. The stabbing thorns of “now” distract you from the beautiful rose to which you advance, bleeding.
GERHARDT HATCH
Stupid metaphor. Stupid preacher. No “hero” exists, no “beautiful rose”.
STELLA FAIR
I dream of the hero, and the dream is palpable! Though I cannot see the face, I hear the voice.
HILDA BEAM
Mad! Your brain is as diseased as our filthy bodies.
LADY DEAN
No Paste-maker will free us from the cruel Urban Militia.
FORBES JANOVA
False prophet! Tear her down!
(The BEGGARS attack STELLA FAIR. PRIVATES DEVLIN and NASH of the URBAN MILITIA enter.)
PRIVATE DEVLIN
Scum!
PRIVATE NASH
Filthy mongrels!
(PRIVATE DEVLIN and PRIVATE NASH wade into the BEGGARS, booting them and driving them offstage.)
PRIVATE DEVLIN
Away with you, stinking rejects!
PRIVATE NASH
Crawl off to your rotten stink-holes!
(The BEGGARS are by now driven offstage.)
PRIVATE DEVLIN
(as he and PRIVATE NASH pull STELLA FAIR up off the ground)
You’re coming with us.
PRIVATE NASH
Our Captain will probe you until you squawk.
(They drag STELLA FAIR offstage.)
Sector Nine by Richard Stuart Dixon, Good School Plays.
Act One, Scene 5:
(LENA DENMARK and BERYL HATFIELD enter.)
LENA DENMARK
This is the right alley, but no sign of the little pukes.
BERYL HATFIELD
Nabbed by the Urban Militia, perhaps?
LENA DENMARK
If so, they’ll squawk and we’ll be next to have our pinkies severed.
BERYL HATFIELD
Foolish we were to deal with crass amateurs.
LENA DENMARK
Black market dealings are best left to those of us skilled in skullduggery.
BERYL HATFIELD
Here they come, the turds.
(TIMOTHY PERKINS and RICKY GUNDERSON, mere boys, enter.)
LENA DENMARK
Boyd, have you got the stuff?
TIMOTHY PERKINS
Do we ever…a litre of the finest.
RICKY GUNDERSON
And hard to get. Sector Eight is armed to the teeth.
TIMOTHY PERKINS
A trigger-happy militia man plugged my backback with a nine millimeter.
RICKY GUNDERSON
God knows where they get those guns. There are none here in Sector Nine.
BERYL HATFIELD
Shut up and give us the stuff.
TIMOTHY PERKINS
(producing a bottle)
One litre of Liquid Seventeen.
LENA DENMARK
(taking it from him and inspecting it)
If it’s watered, we’ll have your balls!
RICKY GUNDERSON
Not watered, I swear. One sip will make a mastermind into a moron.
TIMOTHY PERKINS
Pure it is, and worth six thousand credits.
BERYL HATFIELD
We agreed on five, you worms!
LENA DENMARK
(handing Timothy Perkins a roll of cash)
And so five is what you’ll get, and a kick in the arse for luck.
(She spins him gives him a punt on his rear, sending him sprawling, much to the delight of BERYL HATFIELD, who does the RICKY GUNDERSON.)
RICKY GUNDERSON
(as the humiliated lads pick themselves up)
One day we will no longer be small boys.
TIMOTHY PERKINS One day you will be wrinkled old women doddering along.
RICKY GUNDERSON
And we will be hefty men, red-faced and maddened by testosterone.
TIMOTHY PERKINS
Then we will see who gives the boot and who gets booted.
BERYL HATFIELD
You will not live to see twenty.
LENA DENMARK
Now, you are small and quick.
BERYL HATFIELD
You evade the militia who look for larger targets.
LENA DENMARK
When you grow, you will be obvious to them, and they will kill you.
RICKY GUNDERSON
This is a fine thank you for getting you a litre of L-17.
BERYL HATFIELD
You have your five thousand.
LENA DENMARK
Business is business. We’re not now and never will be your friends.
TIMOTHY PERKINS
You’ll sell that L-17 for twice what you paid us…perhaps more.
BERYL HATFIELD
Business is business.
(BERYL and LENA exit.)
RICKY GUNDERSON
Mostly, I want to kill those two haggling hags.
TIMOTHY PERKINS
They pay us well, Ricky. We have the five thousand.
RICKY GUNDERSON
Yes. Give me my half, and now.
TIMOTHY PERKINS
I did three-quarters of the work, so only one quarter of the cash for you.
RICKY GUNDERSON
You lousy little larva! Give me! Give me!
(He attacks TIMOTHY PERKINS, and they roll about scuffling. SERGEANT STEELE and CORPORAL LAGODA enter and pull them apart.)
SERGEANT STEELE
Too busy scuffling to see us coming, lads?
CORPORAL LAGODA
Squabbling can be fatal.
SERGEANT STEELE
And what do you squabble about?
(They search the BOYS. LAGODA produces the five thousand.)
CORPORAL LAGODA
A fat roll! I’d say about five thousand.
SERGEANT STEELE
A squabble about money.
CORPORAL LAGODA
Black market money. Your heads will be hacked from your bodies for this.
RICKY GUNDERSON
Not me! He had the money! I don’t even know the blasted chump!
TIMOTHY PERKINS
I got the roll off that scallywag, Sergeant. I meant to turn it in to the militia at first chance.
SERGEANT STEELE
Stupid stories. Such sluggish brains don’t survive long.
CORPORAL LAGODA
(counting the money)
Five thousand. Three thousand for you sergeant, one thousand for me, and one thousand as evidence when we throw these wretches at the feet of our fearsome Captain.
RICKY GUNDERSON
Why not let us go and stuff all five thousand in your tunic pockets?
TIMOTHY PERKINS
No need for the Captain to know any of this.
CORPORAL LAGODA
Suddenly you’re not stupid.
SERGEANT STEELE
Clever lads are dangerous. We’ll drag you before our Captain and she will divine your fate.
(they exit with the BOYS held in close arrest.)
Sector Nine by Richard Stuart Dixon, Good School Plays.
Act One, Scene 6:
(The DAYSHIFT PASTE-WORKERS enter.)
DINAH NADON
Once more we gather prior to our shift, sitting out here in the frigid filth waiting for the Nightshift Workers to vacate the Paste Factory.
JENNY FOREST
Weaker now, another day gone by. See how my finger tips tremble?
TEDDY FEDERALE
Stop your bleating, Jenny Forest. It serves no function.
JENNY FOREST
God has turned away from me. Who is he catering to, and why?
TANYA MORTENSEN
We are Paste-makers, and compromised. God has no interest in us.
LAVAL VISHY
How are we compromised?
TANYA MORTENSEN
We are scabs who snag our jobs from those who are weaker. So god has given up on us.
HOLLY HATCH
I don’t mean to harm anyone.
DINAH NADON
Will you all pipe down, and now! You bore me with your trite philosophizing.
JENNY FOREST
I was a girl once, in the days when my ancient grandmother could still recall full bellies and clean clothes. She said you could twist a lever on a pipe, and clean water would gush.
DINAH NADON
Shut up, dammit. Useless to babble about all that.
TEDDY FEDERALE
Your ancient grandmother is dust, so curb your tongue, Jenny Forest.
JENNY FOREST
I mean no harm. It’s just a story of long ago.
TANYA MORTENSEN
It does not cheer us. The time of stories is over. Only darkness now.
LAVAL VISHY
We have our work. Making paste is at least something to do.
HOLLY HATCH
There is no happiness, no joy. This is a sort of death.
DINAH NADON
I’m sick of the whole lot of you. Every day the same crabby sadness.
JENNY FOREST
If only the comfortable past was a little village I could return to.
DINAH NADON
Pah! The past is a sewer that flows into the polluted future, filling with filth as it does so.
LAVAL VISHY
We have our work.
TANYA MORTENSEN
Stop saying that, you thick-brained optimist. What good is drudgery such as ours in a bug-infested Paste factory with only a slop-bucket for a toilet?
HOLLY HATCH
Madam Shift Boss, I am unwell.
DINAH NADON
You must work or be fired, Holly Hatch.
JENNY FOREST
Just think, there once was a time when workers could defend themselves against their cruel bosses.
HOLLY HATCH
How, Jenny? How could they defend themselves?
JENNY FOREST
My ancient grandmother said workers had unions. They stuck together and wouldn’t let their bosses push them around.
TEDDY FEDERALE
Damn your grandmother and her stupid stories.
LAVAL VISHY
Do you wish we had a union, Jenny?
JENNY FOREST
The Urban Militia wouldn’t let us.
DINAH NADON
You’re talking politics. That could get you hacked into pieces, so shut up, and now.
(They lapse into silence. The NIGHTSHIFT PASTE-WORKERS enter, tired and defiant)
NORA SANDUSKY
The Dayshift mob! Despondent as usual. Crabby creatures!
GWEN BURNSIDE
We’ve worked for twelve hours, and still we’re buoyant. But you lot look as though you’re ready to be tossed into the communal grave.
PEGGY BERG
I made two hundred cakes of Paste last night. A record!
BRETT UNDERWOOD
I helped her with the chemicals, the fumes burning my nose hairs as we saw to it that the job was done and done well.
YOYO QUISLING
A job well done is a job worth doing.
BRETT UNDERWOOD
You flabby losers left the factory in a mess, but we straightened it out and got it back in the game.
DINAH NADON
What did those thugs from the militia want with you last night?
NORA SANDUSKY
The Royals wanted a peek at Paste-makers. We were selected for the viewing.
JENNY FOREST
Did the Royals give you a prize?
GWEN BURNSIDE
We avoided a flogging.
(The NIGHTSHIFT PASTE-WORKERS laugh about this, but the DAYSHIFT PIT-WORKERS stare blankly.)
PEGGY BERG
There was mention of a lottery. The Royals might pick a Paste-maker.
TEDDY FEDERALE
And what will they do to her? Hack off her hand?
NORA SANDUSKY
Morons! It’s some sort of propaganda. Somebody must have talked the Royals into it. A little treat for one to boost the morale of all.
PEGGY BERG
The winner will be hauled to the Royal quarters for a plush visit. Perhaps she’ll get an extra ration of Paste as a souvenir.
TANYA MORTENSEN
A lottery. There’s never been a lottery before.
BRETT UNDERWOOD
Stop drooling and get to work.
LAVAL VISHY
Still, it’s a bonus, a little something, and something’s better than nothing.
YOYO QUISLING
They throw us a crumb and expect us to grovel with gratitude.
HOLLY HATCH
Perhaps the Royals are kind. Perhaps they mean well.
NORA SANDUSKY
They’re manufacturing false hope, that’s all. Get to work, you skrags!
DINAH NADON
Talk about false hope! You Nightshift Workers think you’re better than us, but we’re all skrags, every last one of us, scrabbling about desperate for a few credits so we can buy a bit of paste to stay alive one more day.
(The DAYSHIFT PASTE-WOKRERS exit, shouldering their way through the taunting mass of NIGHTSHIFT PASTE-WORKERS. PRIVATES DEVLIN and NASH enter.)
PRIVATE DEVLIN
Why are you loitering, you lumps! It’s past curfew.
PRIVATE NASH
Large gatherings are not permitted!
PRIVATE DEVLIN
Must we bash your skulls? Move along, move along.
(They drive the DAYSHIFT PASTE-WORKERS offstage.)
Sector Nine by Richard Stuart Dixon, Good School Plays.
Act One, Scene 7:
(The BEGGARS enter.)
LADY DEAN
Something nasty must have befallen the preacher.
HILDA BEAM
The militia must have dragged her off to the torture chambers.
FORBES JANOVA
Anyone who babbles about heroes is bound to end up dangling from a hook in a dungeon.
GERHARDT HATCH
Her words were worse than worthless. The murderous militia will snuff her for babbling treason.
LADY DEAN
When the militia snuff, they take their cruel time and do it painfully.
HILDA BEAM
Perhaps the preacher will implicate us. Perhaps the militia will crash down on us and extinguish the last feeble sparks of life in our enfeebled frames.
FORBES JANOVA
I for one would welcome death, if it was instant.
HILDA BEAM
Like the instructions on an old empty food box I saw when I was a girl… “just add water and mix”, it said. Imagine a time when food was instant!
GERHARDT HATCH
The militia never snuff instantly. And generally they hack with blades. Who wants that?
LADY DEAN
Has anyone ever been rescued from the dread clutches of the militia, I wonder?
FORBES JANOVA
Their dungeons are an impenetrable labyrinth. All who go there reappear only as cadavers, usually chopped.
HILDA BEAM
I ask again, what if we are implicated by the preacher?
GERHARDT HATCH
We are doomed to wait and see, for there is no hiding in Sector Nine. Spies everywhere.
LADY DEAN
Diseased and starving, we now face the added horror of torture in the dungeons.
FORBES JANOVA
Thankfully, I have no family that I know of.
HILDA BEAM
All my kin are dead.
LADY DEAN
I struggle on, the last of my breed.
GERHARDT HATCH
I have a woman child, a daughter. She’s Paste-maker in a Dayshift squad.
FORBES JANOVA
Can you get Paste from her?
GERHARDT HATCH
She does not even get enough to feed herself. Daily she weakens. Soon she will be with us, scrounging for rat meat and edible bugs.
HILDA BEAM
My mind is focussed on the egg I once gobbled. Somehow, it is a comforting symbol.
LADY DEAN
My stomach is raw with hunger, and it’s past curfew. We must ferret out some edible bugs before the militia drive us to our hovels.
(They scrabble offstage in search of insects to eat.)
Sector Nine by Richard Stuart Dixon, Good School Plays.
Act One, Scene 8:
(CAPTAIN PARKER enters with LENA DENMARK and BERYL HATFIELD.)
CAPTAIN PARKER
So you’ve procured the L-17?
LENA DENMARK
(producing the bottle)
One lovely litre of the good stuff.
BERYL HATFIELD
The best you can get. Pure L-17 from the secret labs of Sector Eight.
CAPTAIN PARKER
Nine thousand for it?
LENA DENMARK
Ten. That’s fair pricing. Can’t be done for less.
CAPTAIN PARKER
(giving them a roll of cash and taking the bottle)
You black marketeers would steal Paste from your own starving babies.
BERYL HATFIELD
Business is business.
LENA DENMARK
Buying and selling. Nothing wrong with that.
BERYL HATFIELD
For ten thousand, you’re getting much more than that bottle of L-17.
LENA DENMARK
You’re buying our silence.
BERYL HATFIELD
And silence is golden.
CAPTAIN PARKER
Correct. And if you so much as squeak about any of this, you’ll have bought yourselves eternal silence in the communal grave.
LENA DENMARK
You’re a lovely customer. Why would we squeak?
CAPTAIN PARKER
Do you believe in god?
BERYL HATFIELD
Only when it’s profitable.
CAPTAIN PARKER
Well, you better pray to god I don’t find a cheaper source of L-17, or you’ll find yourself wallowing in the red of your own blood. Find your own way out.
(They exit.)
Sector Nine by Richard Stuart Dixon, Good School Plays.
Act One, Scene 9:
(The URBAN MILITIA enter, leading PRINCESS EDWINA and PRINCESS FAY. They seat the ROYALS and await CAPTAIN PARKER’S instructions.)
CAPTAIN PARKER
I hope you and Princess Fay are comfortable, Princess Edwina. We want you to be comfortable.
PRINCESS EDWINA
(as if in a dream)
Hmmmmm?
CAPTAIN PARKER
We want you to be comfortable.
PRINCESS FAY
What does she mean, Edwina?
PRINCESS EDWINA
What do you mean, Captain Parker?
CAPTAIN PARKER
I am your captain, Princess Edwina. I lead the Urban Militia in your sector. We defend you and Princess Fay. We want you to feel safe.
PRINCESS EDWINA
Oh, I feel safe. Very safe. Don’t you feel safe, Fay?
PRINCESS FAY
I’m not frightened, if that’s what you mean.
CAPTAIN PARKER
(testing the ROYALS’ abstract reasoning)
Fear is the enemy of good judgment.
PRINCESS FAY
Is she talking in riddles, Edwina?
PRINCESS EDWINA
I expect so. She’s clever.
CAPTAIN PARKER
(concluding that they need a dose of L-17, a drug that weakens their ability to think)
Sergeant Steele, the Princesses need three C.C.’s of Liquid Seventeen.
(CAPTAIN PARKER hands the bottle of L-17 to SERGEANT STEELE.)
SERGEANT STEELE
Private Nash, produce the tumblers.
PRIVATE NASH
(taking two small tumblers from her pocket)
Here they are, Sergeant.
SERGEANT STEELE
Corporal Lagoda and Private Devlin, administer three C.C.’s of Liquid Seventeen to the Princesses.
(CORPORAL LAGODA and PRIVATE DEVLIN take the tumblers from PRIVATE NASH and hold them while SERGEANT STEELE pours liquid into them.)
CORPORAL LAGODA
(going to PRINCESS FAY)
Three C.C.’s for you, Princess Fay.
(CORPORAL LAGODA offers her one small tumbler of liquid, which PRINCESS FAY takes.)
PRIVATE DEVLIN
(going to PRINCESS EDWINA)
Here you are, Princess Edwina.
(PRIVATE DEVLIN offers the tumbler to PRINCESS FAY, who takes hold of it.)
CAPTAIN PARKER
Down the hatch.
PRINCESS EDWINA and PRINCESS FAY
Down the hatch.
(The ROYALS drink the liquid.)
PRINCESS FAY
Daddy told me that “down the hatch” is what sailors used to say when they drank their daily ration of rum.
PRIVATE NASH
She’s invoking memory, Captain.
CAPTAIN PARKER
We’ll double her dosage. Six c.c.’s.
(CORPORAL LAGODA takes PRINCESS FAY’S tumbler from her and SERGEANT STEELE pours in more liquid. CORPORAL LAGODA then gives PRINCESS FAY the tumbler.)
CAPTAIN PARKER
Down the hatch.
(PRINCESS FAY drinks the second dose.)
CAPTAIN PARKER
What did your father used to tell you about the saying “Down the hatch”, Princess Fay?
PRINCESS FAY
What does she mean, Edwina?
PRINCESS EDWINA
I suppose she’s being clever again.
(The ROYALS stare off into space. The liquid makes them docile and dreamy, and unable to think clearly.)
PRIVATE NASH
They are completely docile, like brainless meat.
CAPTAIN PARKER
Escort the prince and princess to their sleeping modules, Sergeant Steele and Corporal Lagoda.
SERGEANT STEELE
At once, Captain.
(handing the bottle of L-17 to CAPTAIN PARKER)
Come along, your highnesses. Noddy-nappy time for you.
(CORPORAL LAGODA and SERGEANT STEELE take the empty tumblers and hand them to PRIVATE NASH, then escort the dopey PRINCESSES offstage. CAPTAIN PARKER puts the bottle of L-17 into a pocket.)
Sector Nine by Richard Stuart Dixon, Good School Plays.
Act One, Scene 10:
PRIVATE NASH
Do you wish to interrogate the street preacher now, Captain?
CAPTAIN PARKER
Bring the wretch here. We’ll squeeze her for details.
(PRIVATE NASH and PRIVATE DEVLIN exit.)
CAPTAIN PARKER
There is ferment among the masses. My gut whips my heart until she cowers, forcing my mind to go to her rescue.
(PRIVATE NASH and PRIVATE DEVLIN enter with STELLA FAIR, who looks beaten-up and dejected. They cast her down before CAPTAIN PARKER.)
CAPTAIN PARKER
What have you been preaching to the beggars?
STELLA FAIR
The truth.
CAPTAIN PARKER
(placing a boot on her back)
My boot is cute. Your answer is not. What do you preach?
STELLA FAIR
Let me up. I cannot achieve logic with your boot gouging my spine.
CAPTAIN PARKER
Then get up and spew details, and be quick about it.
(STELLA FAIR gets up shakily.)
STELLA FAIR
There is a hero somewhere.
CAPTAIN PARKER
Spew, or I’ll make you dance with agony!
STELLA FAIR
I dream. There’s a voice. She promises things.
CAPTAIN PARKER
What things?
STELLA FAIR
Changes. New conditions that benefit the broken hordes whimpering under your dominion.
CAPTAIN PARKER
Just a voice? No face, no name?
STELLA FAIR
A voice only. In my dream. Promising.
CAPTAIN PARKER
Give me details, and quickly.
STELLA FAIR
There are no details. Just a voice, speaking gently, promising comforting times ahead.
CAPTAIN PARKER
You’re useless. A crackpot of no consequence. Hurl her out into the filth, Private Nash.
PRIVATE NASH
Come along, you witch. Time for a nice little flop, face down in the sewage.
(She hauls STELLA FAIR offstage.)
CAPTAIN PARKER
Private Devlin, are the spies from the Paste factory here yet?
PRIVATE DEVLIN
Yes, my Captain.
CAPTAIN PARKER Bring them before me.
PRIVATE DEVLIN
At once.
(PRIVATE DEVLIN exits.)
CAPTAIN PARKER
I must orchestrate a resolution to all this. Something is amiss.
(PRIVATE DEVLIN enters with LAVAL VISHY and YOYO QUISLING)
CAPTAIN PARKER
Mr. Vishy and Miss Quisling, what have you got to report?
LAVAL VISHY
The Dayshift Workers are grumbling and restless, Captain.
YOYO QUISLING
The Nightshift Workers are belligerent and hostile.
LAVAL VISHY
There’s been talk of unions.
YOYO QUISLING
And disrespectful jeering about the Royals.
LAVAL VISHY
As well as the usual despair.
YOYO QUISLING
None seem clever enough to organize a revolt.
LAVAL VISHY
They are weak-minded and lack political skill.
YOYO QUISLING
They continue to produce Paste at an adequate rate.
LAVAL VISHY
The Nightshift Workers have pride in their work, and this divides them against the Dayshift.
YOYO QUISLING
Their mutual animosity cancels each side out, eliminating any immediate threat to your power.
LAVAL VISHY
Just two days ago, if your recall, there was brawling between them in a spat unrelated to politics.
CAPTAIN PARKER
I just released a preacher named Stella Fair. Gain her trust. Arrange a meeting of the poor and the Paste-makers. Get her to identify the woman who’s voice she hears in her dreams. If such a woman turns up, tell me immediately. Here’s five hundred credits for each of you. There’ll be five hundred more if you succeed.
YOYO QUISLING
We will do so and gladly.
CAPTAIN PARKER
Show them out, Private.
(VISHY and QUISLING exit.)
CAPTAIN PARKER
I must lead, but I am burning with uncertainty.
(She exits.)
Sector Nine by Richard Stuart Dixon, Good School Plays.
Act One, Scene 11:
(CORPORAL LAGODA and SERGEANT STEELE enter with RICKY GUNDERSON and TIMOTHY PERKINS, who look roughed-up and hungry.)
SERGEANT STEELE
We’ve decided to spare your pukey lives.
CORPORAL LAGODA
You won’t have to feel the boots of our Captain after all.
SERGEANT STEELE
All you have to do is tell us where you got that five thousand.
CORPORAL LAGODA
Be quick about it. Our minds can change in a heartbeat.
RICKY GUNDERSON
We sold a litre of L-17 to a couple of black market racketeers.
SERGEANT STEELE
Names.
TIMOTHY PERKINS
We don’t know their names…two women…
CORPORAL LAGODA
Where did you get the L-17?
RICKY GUNDERSON
From Sector Eight.
SERGEANT STEELE
How? The truth, or we’ll see you tortured and hacked.
TIMOTHY PERKINS
We stole it. We’re small. We can go into Sector Eight through the old sewage tunnels.
CORPORAL LAGODA
Can you steal more?
RICKY GUNDERSON
They know about us. They saw us slipping into the sewer.
TIMOTHY PERKINS
One shot at me.
RICKY GUNDERSON
But we could try again.
SERGEANT STEELE
Then try again. If you bring us a litre of L-17, we’ll give you back half your five thousand.
CORPORAL LAGODA
If you cheat us, we’ll catch you and skin you alive.
TIMOTHY PERKINS
No cheating. We want our skins, and badly.
RICKY GUNDERSON
You’re generous. We’ll reciprocate.
SERGEANT STEELE
Off with you then, into your sewers in search of the elusive liquid!
(TIMOTHY and RICKY exit on the trot.)
SERGEANT STEELE
We’ll beat Captain Parker at her own game.
CORPORAL LAGODA
We’ll put L-17 in her Paste, and watch her turn into a dithering idiot.
(They exit.)
Sector Nine by Richard Stuart Dixon, Good School Plays.
Act Two, Scene 1:
(Stella Fair enters)
STELLA FAIR
The Captain spared my life. Angels must be protecting me.
(LAVAL VISHY and YOYO QUISLING enter.)
LAVAL VISHY
Are you the one called the Preacher?
STELLA FAIR
I am.
YOYO QUISLING
We’ve heard that you are magnificent.
STELLA FAIR
Magnificent? I am only a woman who dreams a dream of hope.
LAVAL VISHY
Sorely needed is hope.
YOYO QUISLING
Laval and I are Paste-makers. We suffer in the awful factory.
STELLA FAIR
All of us suffer except the Royals and the militia, fattened on Paste and warm in their fortress.
LAVAL VISHY
You are bitter. Should a preacher be bitter?
STELLA FAIR
I am only a woman who dreams.
YOYO QUISLING
What do you dream?
STELLA FAIR
I hear a woman’s voice promising a better future.
LAVAL VISHY
If you could find the owner of the voice, perhaps she could lead us to salvation.
STELLA FAIR
I search for her but never can I find her among the beggars.
YOYO QUISLING
Perhaps she is a Paste-maker.
STELLA FAIR
Perhaps. But Paste-makers have no time or patience for someone like me.
LAVAL VISHY
How do you survive?
STELLA FAIR
Just as the beggars survive, choking down rat meat and edible bugs. And, like them, I’m dying.
YOYO QUISLING
What if we gathered the Paste-makers for a meeting?
LAVAL VISHY
Perhaps you could find the woman whose voice you hear in your dream.
STELLA FAIR
Do you have the power to draw the workers to a meeting?
YOYO QUISLING
We can wheedle them into it, with effort. Now I must leave you. I am absent from my post as a nightshift worker at the Paste Factory.
(YOYO exits.)
LAVAL VISHY
Stay with me. When the shifts change, I will get the workers to listen to you. Then we will see if your dream is prophecy.
(They exit.)
Sector Nine by Richard Stuart Dixon, Good School Plays.
Act Two, Scene 2:
(The DAYSHIFT PASTE-WORKERS are waiting for the NIGHTSHIFT PASTE-WORKERS to go off duty.)
DINAH NADON
Crap. Again we wait for those industrious turds to finish their shift.
TEDDY FEDERALE
Let them work, the bullies. Perhaps they will exhaust themselves and die.
JENNY FOREST
The Nightshift Workers hate us for some reason, but what?
TANYA MORTENSEN
They think we are weaklings, and despise us because we grouse.
HOLLY HATCH
But night or day, we all make Paste and slowly starve.
DINAH NADON
Where is Laval Vishy?
JENNY FOREST
Perhaps he died in the night.
LAVAL VISHY
(entering with STELLA FAIR)
Not dead, but alive with hope. I have found someone who can help us.
DINAH NADON
Who is she? The devil’s sister?
LAVAL VISHY
A preacher who knows more than all of us put together.
(The NIGHTSHIFT PASTE-WORKERS enter.)
NORA SANDUSKY
There they are like always, a mob of failures accepting death even while they live.
GWEN BURNSIDE
Who’s that with them? Are they to have an extra worker to make up for their incompetence?
PEGGY BERG
Look at her, all sickly and weak. She couldn’t make a Paste cake in a month.
BRETT UNDERWOOD
Every morning we emerge to see this sorry mob…
PEGGY BERG
And now there’s one more slug slithering about with them.
BRETT UNDERWOOD
She does not fit. Tell us what she is.
YOYO QUISLING
She’s a preacher who dreams, not a Paste-maker! Welcome her and let her hold forth!
NORA SANDUSKY
You are not the shift boss, Yoyo Quisling. Shut your gob.
LAVAL VISHY
No! Yoyo Quisling is right! Let the Preacher preach!
YOYO QUISLING
She will speak of hope!
DINAH NADON
Then speak, Preacher.
TEDDY FEDERALE
But quickly! The factory stands idle and the militia will be upon us in a flash with their truncheons!
GWEN BURNSIDE
You have only a moment! Use it!
HOLLY HATCH
Do not shout at her! She only wants to help!
STELLA FAIR
That’s the voice.
JENNY FOREST
What voice?
TANYA MORTENSEN
Holly Hatch’s voice?
HOLLY HATCH
My voice?
STELLA FAIR
Yes, your voice. It’s the voice in my dream, the one promising hope to us all.
HOLLY HATCH
I don’t understand.
STELLA FAIR
I hear your voice in my sleep, in my dream. You speak of change, of better times.
HOLLY HATCH
But I’m only a little Paste-maker!
PEGGY BERG
The Preacher is making it up! She’s trying to fool us!
BRETT UNDERWOOD
How could that little worker bring better times for us all?
DINAH NADON
What’s your game, Preacher? Why do you pull our legs?
TEDDY FEDERALE
Holly Hatch is just a girl, and a weak one, barely able to make the Paste cakes.
JENNY FOREST
Why tease us with promises of hope? Can’t you see? Holly Hatch is not heroic.
STELLA FAIR
I only know that hers is the voice I hear in my dream. That is all I can say.
DINAH NADON
That’s enough of this nonsense. You wasted our time bringing this preacher here, Laval Vishy. To work! The factory is idle! Move along now, Dayshift Workers…the Paste must be produced.
(The DAYSHIFT PASTE-WORKERS exit.)
NORA SANDUSKY
This preacher is addled! Leave her to her rambling hallucinations! Go to your hovels and eat your bits of Paste.
(The NIGHTSHIFT PASTE-WORKERS exit.)
STELLA FAIR
That was the girl. I’m sure of it.
(STELLA FAIR exits.)
Sector Nine by Richard Stuart Dixon, Good School Plays.
Act Two, Scene 3:
(TIMOTHY PERKINS and RICKY GUNDERSON enter. They have a litre of L-17.)
TIMOTHY PERKINS
We’ll not survive another trip into that damned Sector Eight.
RICKY GUNDERSON
But we have the litre of L-17, and soon we’ll have half our five thousand.
TIMOTHY PERKINS
Shot at by the Sector Eight militia. Look, a bullet grazed my trousers.
RICKY GUNDERSON
I’d like to know where those guns come from.
TIMOTHY PERKINS
I don’t care about the guns. It’s the bullets that have me worried.
RICKY GUNDERSON
What are we going to do if the Sergeant and his pal send us back for more L-17?
TIMOTHY PERKINS
We’ll have to keep going back until we’re shot.
RICKY GUNDERSON
That’s better than torture.
(LENA DENMARK and BERYL HATFIELD enter.)
LENA DENMARK
Well, it’s the two little sewer rats.
BERYL HATFIELD
Grab ‘em, Lena!
(RICKY and TIMOTHY try to run, but BERYL and LENA grab them. LENA finds the L-17. They let go of the lads)
LENA DENMARK
L-17! We didn’t order another bottle.
TIMOTHY PERKINS
We’ve got more than one pair of customers.
RICKY GUNDERSON
Like you said, business is business.
BERYL HATFIELD
(grabbing RICKY and pulling him up close)
Stop your clever bleating, you little chump. Who is that stuff for and how much are they paying you?
TIMOTHY PERKINS
What’ll you pay us to tell you?
LENA DENMARK
(holding up the bottle of L-17)
I’ll dump it out if you don’t tell us!
RICKY GUNDERSON
Don’t! It’s for Sergeant Steele and Corporal Lagoda of the Urban Militia!
TIMOTHY PERKINS
You don’t want to get mixed up in this. It’s something political.
RICKY GUNDERSON
It’s much bigger than us. Just give us the bottle and let us go.
LENA DENMARK
(giving back the L-17)
You go ahead and give this stuff to Sergeant Steele. You’re right. We don’t want to get involved.
BERYL HATFIELD
Now get out of here. Scat!
(RICKY and TIMOTHY hustle offstage.)
LENA DENMARK
I’d bet my left eyeball they’re planning to use that stuff on Captain Parker.
BERYL HATFIELD
They’ve seen her use the stuff on the Royals, so now they want to do the same thing to her.
LENA DENMARK
Time for a little visit with Captain Parker.
BERYL HATFIELD
Business is business.
(They exit.)
Sector Nine by Richard Stuart Dixon, Good School Plays.
Act Two, Scene 4:
(CAPTAIN PARKER enters with the two SPIES.)
CAPTAIN PARKER
So the preacher picked out a woman whose voice matched the one in her dreams?
LAVAL VISHY
Her name’s Holly Hatch. She’s a Dayshift Paste-maker.
YOYO QUISLING
A gentle little thing.
LAVAL VISHY
Doesn’t look like the sort to lead a rebellion.
CAPTAIN PARKER
I’m not interested in your opinions.
(handing them money)
Here’s your bonus pay. If you find out anything more, report at once.
YOYO QUISLING
Of course.
(YOYO and LAVAL exit as the rest of the rest of the MILITIA enter with PRINCESS EDWINA and PRINCESS FAY.)
CAPTAIN PARKER
Your highnesses, it’s time for that lottery we talked about.
PRINCESS EDWINA
A lottery, Captain?
PRINCESS FAY
What’s a lottery, Edwina?
PRINCESS EDWINA
Perhaps the Captain will explain, Fay. She’s clever.
CAPTAIN PARKER
You requested that we pick a Paste-worker to have the honour of visiting your majesties here in the Fortress.
PRINCESS EDWINA
Did we? It sounds like a wonderful idea.
PRINCESS FAY
I’d like to have a visitor.
CAPTAIN PARKER
Well, we have conducted a lottery, and the winner is a young woman named Holly Hatch.
PRINCESS FAY
Daddy told me that “down the hatch” is what sailors used to say when they drank their daily ration of rum.
PRINCESS EDWINA
Down the hatch! Jolly old Holly Hatch!
CAPTAIN PARKER
Give each of them three more C.C.’s of L-17, Sergeant Steele.
(CAPTAIN PARKER hand SERGEANT STEELE the bottle of L-17. STEELE pours it into tumblers procured from NASH and held by DEVLIN and LAGODA, who dose the Royals.)
CAPTAIN PARKER
There, that’s better. Escort them to their modules, Privates Devlin and Nash.
PRIVATE DEVLIN
At once, Captain. Come along, your highnesses. Soon you’ll have a nice visit with the little woman from the Paste factory.
PRIVATE NASH
Won’t that be pleasant?
(They take the docile ROYALS offstage.)
CAPTAIN PARKER
Go to the Paste factory, and announce the winner of the lottery, Sergeant Steele and Corporal Lagoda, then bring her here at once.
SERGEANT STEELE
Yes, Captain.
(STEELE and LAGODA look at each other and exit as the PRIVATES NASH and DEVLIN enter with LENA DENMARK and BERYL HATFIELD.)
PRIVATE DEVLIN
Two women to see you, Captain. Lena Denmark and Beryl Hatfield.
CAPTAIN PARKER
Wait outside, privates.
PRIVATE NASH
Yes, Captain.
(The PRIVATES exit.)
CAPTAIN PARKER
What do you want?
BERYL HATFIELD
Money for information.
LENA DENMARK
Vital information.
CAPTAIN PARKER
Give me the information. I’ll pay you exactly what it’s worth.
LENA DENMARK
We intercepted the two lads who supplied us with that last bottle of L-17. They were carrying another bottle of the stuff.
BERYL HATFIELD
They claimed it was for Sergeant Steele and Corporal Lagoda.
CAPTAIN PARKER
(offering them cash)
For this you may have five thousand credits and the promise of Sergeant Steele and Corporal Lagoda’s jobs in the near future.
LENA DENMARK
(taking the cash)
Thank you, Captain.
BERYL HATFIELD
You understand business. We understand business.
LENA DENMARK
We’ll work well together.
(LENA and BERYL exit.)
CAPTAIN PARKER
Betrayal. Perhaps that’s what was crabbing at my guts all this time.
(She exits.)
Sector Nine by Richard Stuart Dixon, Good School Plays.
Act Two, Scene 5:
(The BEGGARS enter, sicker and weaker than ever.)
LADY DEAN
I drag myself along like an old sack full of mud.
FORBES JANOVA
The communal grave is waiting for us, and soon we shall be chucked into it like logs into the devil’s fire.
HILDA BEAM
Hours ago, I chewed the dried up bit of rat meat, and nothing more since. I swear the rat has regenerated in my belly and is chewing its way out.
GERHARDT HATCH
And yet we find our way to each other and hang about together, our little dying band of beggars.
LADY DEAN
We feed on each other’s company instead of food, and it keeps us alive somehow.
FORBES JANOVA
Friendship is sustaining.
HILDA BEAM
On occasion, you make me laugh, you beggars, and even though it hurts, the brief chortle makes me glad.
GERHARDT HATCH
I fear death only because I know I must, like all beings, be alone when it takes me.
LADY DEAN
No word of the preacher who babbled about hope and comfort?
FORBES JANOVA
Nothing. In all likelihood, she is dead. (Stella Fair enters with Holly Hatch)
STELLA FAIR
Not dead. Alive, and with the woman who’s voice haunted my dreams.
GERHARDT HATCH
Holly, my daughter!
(He and HOLLY embrace.)
HOLLY HATCH
Father, the Preacher says she dreams about my voice.
STELLA FAIR
Either I am mad, or Holly is destined to change our lives.
HOLLY HATCH
Father, Father, I don’t know what to think.
GERHARDT HATCH
Why did you come to me, Holly? You know I can do nothing for you, and you can do nothing for me. You must save yourself, not use your dwindling strength to track me down.
STELLA FAIR
She needed to tell you she loves you. She wanted you to know that she’s the voice in my dreams. She wants you to feel hope.
HILDA BEAM
The child is radiant. Perhaps there’s truth in the Preacher’s vision.
LADY DEAN
She shines somehow, with light that’s there and yet invisible.
FORBES JANOVA
Preacher, what is the girl’s mission? What is she to do, for god’s sake?
STELLA FAIR
I don’t know. She is trying to understand what she must do.
HOLLY HATCH
I’m trying to understand.
GERHARDT HATCH
Do what you must do, Holly. I bless you with this kiss.
(He kisses her forehead.)
HOLLY HATCH
Thank you, Father. I will sleep and perhaps my dreams will show me what to do.
STELLA FAIR
I will guide her to her sleeping place and remain with her throughout.
HOLLY HATCH
Farewell, Father.
(HOLLY and STELLA FAIR exit.)
GERHARDT HATCH
She is gone. I shall not see her again, except in my dreams.
LADY DEAN
How do you know such a thing?
HILDA BEAM
What could prompt such certainty?
FORBES JANOVA
Why do you claim such knowledge?
GERHARDT HATCH
It is knowledge patiently hidden in my heart until this moment.
(The BEGGARS exit, escorting the broken-hearted GERHARDT offstage.)
Sector Nine by Richard Stuart Dixon, Good School Plays.
Act Two, Scene 6:
(The DAYSHIFT PASTE-WORKERS are assembled, waiting for the NIGHTSHIFT PASTE-WORKERS to emerge from the factory.)
DINAH NADON
Once again we wait in the coarse, rasping morning air.
JENNY FOREST
The endless days greet us with dreary certainty.
TEDDY FEDERALE
We are slaves to the Paste factory. The starving beggars are free.
TANYA MORTENSEN
How much longer can I go on making Paste? No one is meant to live this way.
LAVAL VISHY
Cheer up. We have Holly Hatch, our saintly heroine.
DINAH NADON
Where is she, then? Not here! Perhaps dead somewhere. Some saint!
(The NIGHTSHIFT PASTE-WORKERS enter.)
NORA SANDUSKY
Just once I’d like to emerge from my shift and not have to look at you dead-eyed dolts.
GWEN BURNSIDE
Always here when we come out. Just once, perhaps, you could remove yourselves to a discrete distance?
PEGGY BERG
Unsightly to say the least. Lumps groggy in the cold.
BRETT UNDERWOOD
I must admit, I take some small pleasure in insulting you each and every frigid morning.
PEGGY BERG
Sleepy maggots.
YOYO QUISLING
Where is Holly Hatch, the Preacher’s favourite?
(HOLLY HATCH enters with STELLA FAIR.)
STELLA FAIR
My favourite is here, in time for her duties.
HOLLY HATCH
I know now what I must do.
LAVAL VISHY
What must you do?
HOLLY HATCH
I cannot say.
(SERGEANT STEELE and CORPORAL LAGODA enter with PRIVATE DEVLIN and PRIVATE NASH.)
SERGEANT STEELE
Paste-makers! There has been a Royal Lottery!
CORPORAL LAGODA
One among you has been chosen to visit the Royals in the Fortress.
SERGEANT STEELE
The lucky citizen is Holly Hatch. Step forward, please, Miss Hatch.
HOLLY HATCH
(stepping forward)
I’m Holly Hatch.
CORPORAL LAGODA
Privates, assist Miss Hatch to the royal carry-chair.
PRIVATE DEVLIN
At once, Corporal.
(They whisk HOLLY offstage.)
SERGEANT STEELE
Holly Hatch is a lucky young woman. Perhaps one day, there will be another lottery, and one of you might be just as lucky.
CORPORAL LAGODA
Life is good here in Sector Nine. Joyous things happen.
(STEELE and LAGODA exit.)
DINAH NADON
Well, perhaps your dreams aren’t crazy after all, Preacher. They’ve scooped her off to the Fortress like some sort of sacrificial maiden.
STELLA FAIR
Her moment draws near.
NORA SANDUSKY
What do you mean by that?
STELLA FAIR
Just what I say.
GWEN BURNSIDE
You mystics are ridiculous. Out of our way. We must have our bit of paste and snippet of rest.
(The NIGHTSHIFT PASTE-WORKERS exit.)
TANYA MORTENSEN
We are short one Paste-maker. Today will be harder.
JENNY FOREST
I wonder if they’ll give her some cakes of Paste to bring back and share with us?
TEDDY FEDERALE
Don’t be a chump. Nothing but bad news comes out of that Fortress.
LAVAL VISHY
Why grumble? At least one of us is going to warm and comfortable for a few hours.
(The NIGHTSHIFT PASTE-WORKERS exit.)
STELLA FAIR
Poor Holly. The worst is yet to come.
(STELLA exits.)
Sector Nine by Richard Stuart Dixon, Good School Plays.
Act Two, Scene 7:
(TIMOTHY PERKINS and RICKY GUNDERSON enter.)
RICKY GUNDERSON
This is when we find out if the Sergeant is as good as his word.
TIMOTHY PERKINS
Face it. His word is bad and so is he.
(SERGEANT STEELE and CORPORAL LAGODA enter.)
SERGEANT STEELE
Where’s the L-17?
TIMOTHY PERKINS
Here.
(TIMOTHY hands STEELE the bottle.)
RICKY GUNDERSON
And our money?
SERGEANT STEELE
What money?
TIMOTHY PERKINS
You said you’d give us back half our money.
CORPORAL LAGODA
There must be something wrong with your memory. You better fix it if you want to live to see tomorrow.
SERGEANT STEELE
Bring us another litre of this stuff in a week.
RICKY GUNDERSON
For no pay?
SERGEANT STEELE
You get to stay alive if you do what we say. That ought to be worth something.
(STEELE and LAGODA exit.)
RICKY GUNDERSON
I’ve got something to show you. Something I stole in Sector Eight.
(pulling a handgun from his pocket)
I went back there alone last night.
TIMOTHY PERKINS
How did you steal it?
RICKY GUNDERSON
I can’t tell you. I can’t let myself remember. It was that bad.
TIMOTHY PERKINS
No need to fret, Ricky. For punks like us, a gun means hope.
(They exit.)
Sector Nine by Richard Stuart Dixon, Good School Plays.
Act Three, Scene 1:
(CAPTAIN PARKER enters with HOLLY HATCH and PRIVATES NASH and DEVLIN.)
CAPTAIN PARKER
So you are Holly Hatch, the winner of the lottery.
HOLLY HATCH
I am, Captain.
CAPTAIN PARKER
Privates, fetch the Royal Princesses.
PRIVATE DEVLIN
Yes, Captain.
(The PRIVATES exit.)
CAPTAIN PARKER
Before you meet the Prince and Princess, I must present you with this dagger.
(She holds a dagger out to HOLLY.)
HOLLY HATCH
(taking it)
Thank you. What is it for?
CAPTAIN PARKER
It’s ceremonial, a symbol of trust, given to all guests before they see the Princesses. It proves that even though you are armed, you would never harm the Royals.
HOLLY HATCH
I see.
CAPTAIN PARKER
Tradition says you must hide it in your tunic.
HOLLY HATCH
(as she hides the knife)
What a beautiful but dangerous tradition.
CAPTAIN PARKER
(sensing her ironic phrasing)
Yes. You’re a bright young woman, aren’t you.
(The MILITIA enter with the Little PRINCESSES, and form a tableau.)
CAPTAIN PARKER
Your majesties, this is Holly Hatch. She is your special guest today.
PRINCESS EDWINA
A guest? Whatever next!
PRINCESS FAY
Young lady, you are almost as pretty as me!
CAPTAIN PARKER
Would you care to say something to the Prince and Princess, Miss Hatch?
HOLLY HATCH
Please help us, Princess Edwina. We are your people, and we are dying.
PRINCESS EDWINA
Dying?
PRINCESS FAY
She’s talking nonsense, Edwina.
CAPTAIN PARKER
What is that in your tunic, Miss Hatch? Privates, look in her tunic!
PRIVATE DEVLIN
Yes, Captain.
(DEVLIN and NASH go to HOLLY and search her. They find the knife.)
CAPTAIN PARKER
(going to PRIVATE DEVLIN first, and taking the knife from her)
You came here to assassinate the Princesses.
PRINCESS EDWINA What do you mean, Captain?
CAPTAIN PARKER
I mean I know my duty, your Highness.
(CAPTAIN PARKER the knife into HOLLY and holds it in until HOLLY dies, her body slumped against CAPTAIN PARKER, who lowers her to the ground.)
PRINCESS FAY
What an awful girl. Thank goodness she’s dead.
PRINCESS EDWINA
She looks as though she’s sleeping. I’d like to sleep too.
CAPTAIN PARKER
Privates, escort the Princesses to their module.
PRIVATE DEVLIN
Yes, Captain.
(DEVLIN and NASH lead the numb ROYALS offstage.)
CAPTAIN PARKER
Sergeant Steele, take this knife and hurl it in the moat.
SERGEANT STEELE
Yes, Captain.
(STEELE goes to her, but when he reaches her, she plunges the knife into him in the same way she stabbed HOLLY, and again waits for him to die. As this is happening, CORPORAL LAGODA turns to leave, but LENA DENMARK and BERYL HATFIELD enter and take her by the arms. CAPTAIN PARKER goes to her.)
CAPTAIN PARKER
No more nonsense about dreams, voices, and treason.
(CAPTAIN PARKER kills CORPORAL LAGODA the same way as she killed HOLLY and SERGEANT STEELE. PRIVATES DEVLIN and NASH enter.)
CAPTAIN PARKER
Are the Little Princesses dead?
PRIVATE DEVLIN
Yes, Captain. It was a simple thing to do.
PRIVATE NASH
We used pillows, as you suggested.
PRIVATE DEVLIN
They barely struggled when we pushed the pillows down on their faces.
CAPTAIN PARKER
Good.
(indicating STEEL and LAGODA’s bodies)
Private Devlin, dispose of these two bodies. We will take the girl’s body back to the Paste factory and display it there, so that the workers can learn about the dangers of treason and rebellion.
PRIVATE DEVLIN
Yes Captain.
PRIVATE NASH
At once, Captain.
(The lights dim briefly, but do not go out completely, to facilitate a quick scene change.)
Sector Nine by Richard Stuart Dixon, Good School Plays.
Act Three, Scene 2:
(The body of HOLLY is displayed at the centre of a tableau made up of all the cast, except SERGEANT STEELE, CORPORAL LAGODA, and the ROYALS. There is a mood of shock. GERHARDT HATCH is crying softly.)
CAPTAIN PARKER
This woman was an assassin, a traitor. She took the lives of Princess Edwina and Princess Fay while she was alone with them in their private chamber. Now Sector Nine must of necessity fall under my control. In a parallel and equally unfortunate incident, Sergeant Steele and Corporal Lagoda were killed by black market racketeers in a squabble over illegal drugs. Now order has been restored. This is Sergeant Denmark and Corporal Hatfield. They will assist me with the administration of Sector Nine. Now go about your business.
STELLA FAIR
It’s all lies! You know it’s all lies! Why don’t you do something?
(No one moves. There is a vast silence. Even CAPTAIN PARKER and her allies become very still. Then RICKY GUNDERSON walks forward, takes out his pistol, and shoots CAPTAIN PARKER. This prompts the BEGGARS and PASTE-WORKERS to attack the PRIVATES and DENMARK and HATFIELD with a flurry of fists and feet. A new tableau forms and STELLA FAIR goes to RICKY GUNDERSON and takes his gun from him. She addresses everyone.)
STELLA FAIR
Holly Hatch was the voice in my dream. And Holly Hatch went to the Fortress knowing she would die there. She gave her life to set in motion the events that led to this moment. You have a chance now, a chance to make Sector Nine a place where this…
(she indicates the gun)
is never needed. Out of the blood of this moment, rises your future. What will you make of it?
(The CHARACTERS look at one another, and at the BODIES, then finally at the AUDIENCE as the lights go down.)
END OF PLAY.