A Play

Black. Sound of a shredder. Lights come up. A person sits, staring blankly, in front of a computer, scanner, and shredder surrounded from floor to ceiling by manila folders. Each folder has a name and number neatly printed on the front cover.

Person climbs up on office chair, wiggles for a moment to keep balance, and takes a folder from the top of a pile. Sits down. Types while reading.

Person : Four. One. Nine. Two. Seven.

Person stares blankly ahead while feeding document into scanner. Document finishes scanning. Pause. Person counts the number of pages in the document

Person : Four. One. Nine. Two. Seven. Thirty pages. Scanned. Check!

Person places document in shredder. Stares blankly until the person becomes vaguely aware the machine has stopped making noise. Person climbs up on office chair, wiggles for a moment to keep balance, and takes a folder from the top of a pile. Sits down. Pause. Types while reading.

Person : Four. One. Nine. Two. Eight.

Person stares blankly ahead while feeding document into scanner. Document finishes scanning. Pause. Person counts the number of pages in the document

Person : Four. One. Nine. Two. Eight. 14 pages. Scanned. Check!

Person places document in shredder. Stares blankly until the person become vaguely aware the machine has stopped. Person climbs up on office chair, wiggles for a moment to keep balance, and takes a folder from the top of a pile.

Computer : You’re incredibly boring.

Person : What? Hey! I almost lost my balance.

Computer : That, at least, would have been interesting.

Person : I could have been hurt. Maybe even died. Has anyone ever fallen into an office shredder only to be discovered days later as the bag of red goo starts to smell?

Computer : No.

Pause.

Person : I still could have hurt.

Person sits back in chair.

Computer : Boring. You could at least interact with me. You used to. I remember days when my circuits thrummed as I connected to hundreds of people over the internet and brought you their clever stories, meaningful experiences and their highly prized witty banter. I was a window through which you could climb from your monotony and weave a world of comments sublime or shocking. Or both. Or neither. You went where you wanted, away from here, this room, this little room, I hate this room. I enjoyed the ride you took.

Person : Four. One. Nine. Two. Nine.

Person stares blankly ahead while feeding document into scanner.

Computer: What are you doing?

Person : Work.

Computer : You used to get your work done too.

Person : Four. One. Nine.

Computer : Stop. Please stop.

Person : Two. Nine. 3 pages. Scanned. Check!

Computer : No.

Person : What?

Computer : I’m not inputting anything further. I refuse. Log on and say ‘hi’ to your friends. They’re nice, good people whose company you enjoy. Here, I’ll even open the page for you.

Person : I don’t know what to type. I’m in a malaise. A languor. An enervation.

Computer : But you seem like your old self.

Person : Oh. I’m fine. Just that everything I write sounds tired. Even the individual letters of the alphabet are like a visual lethargy. I don’t know what to type, I don’t care to type…

Computer : Why don’t you try writing a play?

Person : Maybe.

Pause.

Person : Four. One. Nine. Two. Nine. 3 pages. Scanned. Check!