Groupthink at DUI

A serial play written by Gail Taylor for Pretty Kitty Publishing (copyright, 2014). 

Scene 2

HEATHE AND JANE ARE STILL SEATED AT THE ROUND TABLE.  A BROWN-PAPER BAG IS ON TOP OF THE TABLE, BETWEEN THEM. A BOILED EGG IS ON TOP OF PLASTIC WRAP. 

HEATHE SUGGESTIVELY EATS A STALK OF CELERY DURING THE FOLLOWING MONOLOGUE.

JANE FINDS THIS WEIRD. YET, SHE IS UNDAUNTED.

HEATHE

  I have a question for you, Jane. Do you want to work here? You want to work here? If you want to work here, Jane, then you must do everything they tell you ... everything they tell you ... to do. You must, or they will never let you leave.

  Never.

  You must enjoy this life. But is it really utopia? Reading theses and dissertations, meeting with students from all over the world, who come from the most remote villages, whose futures are predetermined, most of whom will fritter-away their time partying, or not. 

  Some of them will make it, but more of them won't. And when they do fail, they will not feel failure. Not in the same way as some here feel it, though. I am talking about ... Well, you know.

  Do you understand?

  There are many who come here for the beautiful trees, the clean water, the pure air, and they stay long enough to be exposed to our teachings. And then, they leave, Jane. Leave. 

  Jane, you are still here.

  You did not leave. 

  You never leave.

  Why don't you leave?

  You must want something. 

  Or, someone? 

  Or, maybe what they are saying is accurate, and you have lost your intellectual faculties.

  But surely, you do not stay because this is utopia. 

 This is not Cambrigde, Jane. 

  You can ask Willard about that, if you're still here.

JANE

  Who is comparing DUI to Cambridge?

   And who is Willard?

HEATHE

  You, you act like this is Cambridge. Writing papers, putting your name on literature reviews.

JANE

  My work. Help me understand why I wouldn't put my name on my work.

HEATHE

  Ah, see. There you go. Your expectations. You must be having the time of your life at a place where no one expects someone like you to be seen.

  Congratulations, Jane! Good for you! And now, you are invited to leave DUI!

JANE

  What? I don't understand.

   I thought you wanted me here. I thought you employed me to do your research. 

   I thought you would guide me through my monograph, my own research. What is this about?

  What have you done?

HEATHE

  Listen to yourself.

  What are you saying? Do you know what you are saying? 

   Is everything an absolute with you -- people?

JANE

LEANS IN CLOSELY TOWARD HEATHE. SPEAKS IN A SERIOUS TONE.

  You people? 

  What people? 

  People who work hard, research, go places you long-ago wrote off, and long-ago left in flames?

  

HEATHE

  You know, as well as I, that those people will never listen to people like --

JANE

EXHALES LOUDLY.

  HEATHE!

HEATHE

  Thank you, Jane.

  Your monograph will make an excellent 'searchit.com entry, thus helping us to educate the next wave of graduate school-losers.

  You did a good job, a great job, kid.

  Thank you.

[FADE OUT]

(To be continued.)

 

Groupthink at DUI

A serial play written by Gail Taylor for Pretty Kitty Publishing (copyright, 2014). 

Scene

DuCamp Union Institute (DUI), beautiful, with lots of trees, fountains, and glass-boxes, attracts studious, yet coddled 30-somethings known for being nerdy-rich and less attractive than B-list international and Hollywood celebrities.

Arriving on the first day of her fourth year at DUI is Jane Kensington Smith (JKS), a glamorous, brainy, doctoral candidate in European thought. JKS is of indeterminate ethnic and religious identity.

She enters the office of 83-year-old Professor Emeritus Sir Heathe Bishop, her mentor. He is pale, has liver-spots, yet is sharp-minded, but has OCD (obsessive-compulsive-disorder). His biggest obsession is lighting fixtures.

Jane's relationship with Sir Heathe is tenuous. This is to be their last meeting.

JANE ENTERS HEATHE'S OFFICE. SHE IS DRESSED CONSERVATIVELY, A TAILORED SPORT JACKET OVER SLACKS.HER ONLY ORNAMENTATION IS A PEACOCK-FEATHER PIN ORNAMENTING HER LAPEL.

HEATHE SITS BEHIND HIS DESK. HIS OFFICE HAS THE ARCHITECTURE AND TRIMMINGS OF A CALIFORNIA-STYLE CARPENTER HOME. BUT THE INTERIOR IS PAINTED A DEMURE GRAY. ALL OF THE BOOK SHELVES ARE EMPTY.

HEATHE LOOKS LIKE HE HASN'T SLEPT FOR DAYS.

JANE IS SURPRISED BY HIS LOOKS AND THE ABSENCE OF BOOKS.

JANE

  Hello, Professor Bishop.

HEATHE

(Looking up from his e-reader).

  Hello. Just leave it by the ... Uh, oh. Jane! Hello.

JANE

  Right. Yes, good morning.

HEATHE

  Have you come for something?

JANE

  Is now a good time? If it isn't, I can ... It's just that, I thought you would be expecting me? 

HEATHE

(Long pause.)

JANE

  You know, the manuscript? 

HEATHE

(Long pause.)

JANE

  Professor, may I sit down?

HEATHE

(Snaps to attention.) 

Yes, of course, and why don't we move to the table? 

HEATHE MOTIONS TO A SMALL, ROUND TABLE NEAR A SUNNY WINDOW IN THE OFFICE WHERE THEY WATCH STUDENTS PASSING BY.

HEATHE

  What brings you here? 

JANE

(Smiling.)

  Well, just this.

(She reaches into her luxe-tote and pulls out a 500-page manuscript adorned with multi-colored Post-its.)

  It took me about six-weeks. I have attached my comments to the top. My hand-written notations are on the Post-its. And may I say, what am honor it was for me to read your work.

  And to be apart of such an endeavor. 

HEATHE

(Long pause.)

JANE

  This was the highlight of my semester, editing your book. And I learned so much about --

HEATHE

  Right. 

JANE

  You will find my notes are quite detailed. To the point, even. Here, have a look and --

HEATHE

  OK. Look, Jane --

HEATHE PLACES HIS HAND ON THE MANUSCRIPT AND SLIDES IT TOWARD HIM. HE BRIEFLY EYEBALLS JANE'S COMMENTS BEFORE STANDING UP, AND WALKING TO HIS DESK WHERE HE PLACES THE MANUSCRIPT AND JANE'S NOTES ON HIS DESK.

HE REACHES INTO HIS ECO-FRIENDLY BRIEFCASE.

JANE

NERVOUSLY.

  So, will you let me know what's next? Is it the index?

HEATHE

PULLS OUT A BROWN PAPER BAG AND SITS BACK DOWN AT THE ROUND TABLE. HE PUTS THE BAG IN BETWEEN HIMSELF AND JANE.

  Look, Jane, I am sure your comments are good. I have always thought you to be a good writer, and a good editor. There are others who are better than you, and there are many others who are not as good as you. Many others, yes, yes. I will look at your comments. And I will share them with Willard when he arrived from Cambridge, later.

JANE

  I'm sorry, Willard? Do I know him?

HEATHE

HEATHE SLOWLY OPENS THE BROWN PAPER BAG. IN A MOCKING TONE OF VOICE, HE SAYS:

  Willard? Do I know him?

JANE

(SUDDENLY TAKEN ABACK.)

  What is going on? I do not know any Willard? But if you want to discuss this, I am certainly open to having a discussion.

HEATHE

(Heathe laughs hysterically. He cannot control his laughter.)

  Well, excuse me. I am so glad to know you are open to having a discussion, but your service is no longer required. 

  And (Heathe reaches into the brown paper bag.) if you continue to pursue this matter as Willard edits my new book, you will --

JANE

  Excuse me, Professor. What is in that bag?

HEATHE

(Heathe wistfully glances out the window and slowly turns back to Jane.)

  Look, Jane. I really haven't the time. It is my lunch.

(Heathe pulls out one long celery stick from the brown paper bag and one hard-boiled egg. He places these items on clear, plastic wrap).

JANE

  OK. 

  Fine. 

  But we still have yet to discuss my work? My monograph.

HEATHE

(Places celery stalk suggestively against his lips.)

  Oh, that. 

  Care to stay for lunch?

[DISSOLVE.]

(To be continued.)