Options
by
Kenneth Wilson
Cast of Characters
Mr. Harrison: an 18 year old boy
Intake Counselor: Middle aged woman, "airplane
stewardess" nice
Grief Counselor: Middle aged man, Gentle,
caring, purposeful.
ACT I
Scene 1
Blackout on stage. We hear the female counselor’s voice, echoing like a dream
INTAKE COUNSELOR: Mr. Harrison? Mr. Harrison? Wake up Mr. Harrison...
The voice begins sounding normal as the lights come up to a young man slumped in the comfy chair, across from him a small desk with a laptop and behind it an attractive, large haired middle aged woman.
INTAKE COUNSELOR: Mr. Harrison? Are we awake?
She takes a small spray bottle and sprays the young man in the face; the young man starts awake, and bolts upright.
MR. HARRISON: What? Huh? Where...
INTAKE COUNSELOR: Hello Mr. Harrison, how are you? Are you OK? Good...
MR. HARRISON: Wait a sec... (Stretches, looks around)
Wait... Where am I? Where's my mom?
INTAKE COUNSELOR: Well silly, now your mom knows where you are. We sent a letter, well, let me see now...
(Checking her laptop)
yes, we sent a letter two weeks ago, standard notification time.
MR. HARRISON: What, a letter for what?
INTAKE COUNSELOR: Well honey, your mom didn't tell you? Bless your heart. She must have just been too proud. Honey your NST scores have qualified you to be accepted into the NWFDC!
(Looks up at unseen camera in corner)
OH, that is so exciting, I almost never get to tell them!
MR. HARRISON: Hold it, what? My test scores? The NWFDC?
INTAKE COUNSELOR: Yes! You are perfectly average Mr. Harrison. Now you get to pick just what you want to do with the rest of your life, within the range of your options of course!
MR. HARRISON: Could we start over please? Who are you?
INTAKE COUNSELOR: I'm your intake counselor Mr. Harrison, I am so pleased to meet you. I am going to tell you your options and you are going to pick one. Then, you and I will walk you down to Transitioning and hand you off to a transition counselor.
MR. HARRISON: Transitioning?
INTAKE COUNSELOR: Mmm Hmm
MR. HARRISON: And then what?
INTAKE COUNSELOR: (laughing): Oh, I don't know that.
MR. HARRISON: OK, uhm, do you have a name?
INTAKE COUNSELOR: Why of course I do.
There is a long Pause, Mr. Harrison stares incredulously at his counselor.
OK, so I see that we are just waiting for your psychiatric evaluation. So all we can do is start going over your options.
MR. HARRISON: Look, there must be some mistake, you see? I am supposed to be heading to The Music school today...
INTAKE COUNSELOR: The NMA? Well let me look... hmm, OK well I don't see the NMA as an option, no street musician either. Let me put in this keyword here...
(Types into laptop)
Well, now look, hey "concert vendor" "Retail" pops up. Who knew that would be on our list of Non-Expendables"? So how about that then?
MR. HARRISON: (Almost in shock and extremely dismayed) Are you crazy? I have been training my whole life for this. I did fine on that test!
INTAKE COUNSELOR: Well that's it then, I mean if you did fine?
MR. HARRISON: What do you mean?
INTAKE COUNSELOR; Well now honey. We want our artists to be outstanding right? I mean can you imagine listening to fine music. Blech...
(Mr. Harrison grabs his head in disbelief and sits back.)
Oh now don't worry, you did fine on your whole test, so we'll just have to find something fine for you to do now won't we?
(laughs)
Oh that's funny...
MR. HARRISON: Look there is no way I scored so low as to be sent to prison, there is now way. There has to be a major mistake!
INTAKE COUNSELOR: Now, Mr. Harrison it is considered very rude to refer to the NWFDC as a "prison" and we almost never make mistakes.
MR. HARRISON: Oh Gods are you kidding me with this? Look I am supposed to go to music school.
INTAKE COUNSELOR: Look at it this way you get four hours a day to do anything you want. You can listen or watch however much music your little old heart desires.
MR. HARRISON: Oh Gods Oh Gods Oh Gods...
slumps back into chair and puts his head on his knees, the Intake Counselor picks up the water bottle to shoot him but sees he is awake, shrugs and puts the bottle down
INTAKE COUNSELOR: Hmmm, no, sorry you scored too high to be a priest.
Black out
Scene 2
Lights up again on Mr. Harrison and the Intake Counselor. They appear to have been sitting a long time.
MR. HARRISON: I'm not that complex you know.
INTAKE COUNSELOR; I'm sorry Mr. Harrison did you say something?
MR. HARRISON: I said "I'm not that complex..." I mean for my Psychiatric report to be taking so long. I mean, my option list seemed short. I mean, why isn't ditch digger or highway man sign holder on there?
(laughs nervously)
Seriously, why?
INTAKE COUNSELOR: Oh, those jobs stay pretty full, I mean well there are just so many people that come in on that level. Bless their little hearts.
MR. HARRISON: Can I call my mom please?
INTAKE COUNSELOR: Oh Honey no, I'm afraid not.
MR. HARRISON: Why?
INTAKE COUNSELOR: I don't know.
MR. HARRISON: How did you get this job?
INTAKE COUNSELOR: Well, it was one of my options, right above Factory Floor Manager at a textile mill and right below Concubine.
MR. HARRISON: (Looking on like he had just seen a car accident) Are you sure there is no on we can call or no procedure or appeals or anything?
INTAKE COUNSELOR: Those were all handled for you weeks ago Honey, right after your scores were processed, evaluated, checked and double checked. We almost always do it twice.
(There is a loud ding and the Intake counselor checks her laptop)
Oh your evaluation is in, have you thought about what option you are going to take? Now let me see... Oh…
MR. HARRISON: Oh? Did my options improve any, please tell me I'm out of here?
The intake worker gets up and moves to the door, turns and looks at Mr. Harrison
INTAKE COUNSELOR: The grief counselor will be with you momentarily.
She leaves and we hear a lock being turned
MR. HARRISON: What? Wait! Where are you going? What's my Job? WAIT! What am I doing? What Oh Gods...
Blackout
Scene 3
Lights up and Mr. Harrison is curled up in the comfy chair in the fetal position. We get the feeling a long time has passed. We hear the door unlock and a large well dreesed man enters the room carrying a small black case.
GRIEF COUNSELOR: Mr. Harrison?
MR. HARRISON: No
GRIEF COUNSELOR: (surprised) Oh, apologies I thought... wait... Mr. Harrison comedian is not an option for you.
MR. HARRISON: Ah. Where is Mrs. Intake?
GRIEF COUNSELOR; Excuse me? Who?
MR. HARRISON: My Intake Counselor. Where is she?
GRIEF COUNSELOR: We're past that now Mr. Harrison.
MR. HARRISON: Great. Wait, what does that mean?
GRIEF COUNSELOR: Mr. Harrison, I am your grief counselor.
MR. HARRISON; Let me guess, you don't have a name either?
GRIEF COUNSELOR; Of course I do. Now Mr. Harrison, as I said I am your grief counselor and I...
MR. HARRISON: ...want to help me get over being sent here and help me accept my options, I know... OK, I get it.
GRIEF COUNSELOR; No Mr. Harrison, I'm sorry if you don't understand. I have brought you your only option.
(sits the small black case on the table)
You see, we got your WFDPE... Work Development Psych Evaluation, you know
(Mr. Harrison Nods)
It indicates that you have a BPD. A Borderline Personality Disorder that is, were you aware of that sir?
MR. HARRISON: What? No...
GRIEF COUNSELOR: Does mental disease run in your family Mr. Harrison?
MR. HARRISON; What? I don't know... I mean, my mom has depression, but...
GRIEF COUNSELOR; You mean Dr. Harrison?
MR. HARRISON: (excited) YES!
GRIEF COUNSELOR: (Makes a note on the laptop) Thank you, we'll look into it.
MR. HARRISON: What, no, I mean it's just sometimes... never mind OK, forget I said that please, I'll take your job. Just leave my mom out of it.
GRIEF COUNSELOR Mr. Harrison a life job is not an option for you any longer. You have but one option, and it is the right option.
MR. HARRISON: What the hell are you talking about?
GRIEF COUNSELOR; We call it the "Patriot Option" and it is a option of pride Mr. Harrison.
MR. HARRISON: A soldier?
GRIEF COUNSELOR: (laughing) Oh heavens no Mr. Harrison, every fifth transitioned gets inducted, and then they get a whole new set of options. Since you didn't make it to transition you don't need to worry about that. No, the Patriot option is good for you, your family and your country. Why be a burden, right?
MR. HARRISON: What are you talking about? Are you insane?
GRIEF COUNSELOR: That’s an interesting choice of words Mr. Harrison.
(Taps on the screen)
Look, I am here for you. I will not hurt you, it is up to you to do what must be done. You know that was part of the new constitution, come on, wait... (looks at the computer) well, I see you did fine in history, so you should know something about the 451st amendment. Maybe a little? No? Hmmm, figures.
MR. HARRISON: Is this what happens here, I mean, I thought you trained people to work...
GRIEF COUNSELOR: We do.
MR. HARRISON: But I mean train them so they can have jobs.
GRIEF COUNSELOR: They do, those that can.
MR. HARRISON: What about those that can't?
Sliding the small black case towards Mr. Harrison
GRIEF COUNSELOR: They take the Patriot Option.
MR. HARRISON: What exactly is the Patriot Option, what is in that case.
GRIEF COUNSELOR: Mr. Harrison, we are a humane facility and are forbidden to cause you harm. You, as our Countries pursuit of happiness code directs, must be allowed to make your own choices... from the options that a complex formula derived from the countries needs and your test scores dictate... of course. That said, when a citizen cannot offer any measurable benefit to society, he needs to do his civic duty and take the option provided him.
MR. HARRISON: I'm going out that door.
GRIEF COUNSELOR; I know you want to, but time will make a difference.
MR. HARRISON: Time? How much time?
GRIEF COUNSELOR: Until you take the option of course. We can meet daily, talk, sit quietly, anything you need. But you will stay here, eat here, sleep here until you choose the option.
MR. HARRISON: I won't eat. I will starve myself and it will be the same as you causing me harm!
GRIEF COUNSELOR: Actually that would be fine, that’s covered by the PO, now you're getting the hang of it!
MR. HARRISON: You mean to tell me that I have to kill myself because I failed a test that measures my personality?
GRIEF COUNSELOR: No Mr. Harrison, the EVALUATION tested your ability to function within social groups, tell the truth, and it also measures your functional range on many different aptitudes. Your scores tell us that friends, family and coworkers will often be exasperated with you; they will often leave you to protect themselves. You don't really fit in at all but rather act as a chameleon... well, look who I am telling, you know what I am saying, right?
MR. HARRISON: You can't make me do it.
GRIEF COUNSELOR: You are right, we can't. Good Job Mr. Harrison.
MR. HARRISON (Screaming) You have to be crazier that I will ever be if you chose this as your option!
GRIEF COUNSELOR: Actually, I'm a baker. This is what I do for my personal time. There seems to be a shortage of Grief Counselors. But we all have the option of a part time option, it is kind of neat really... well, ok, I’m sorry, not everyone...
(Trying to recover, correcting himself)
Some people get lucky and get to choose your option.
MR. HARRISON: I'm in a nut house
GRIEF COUNSELOR: No, those were abolished long ago, too cruel.
MR. HARRISON: You aren't very good at this.
GRIEF COUNSELOR: AH! It's my first time, you noticed.
(A long pause, Mr. Harrison stares at the case.)
MR. HARRISON: I won't.
GRIEF COUNSELOR: You should.
MR. HARRISON: Would it do me any good to appeal to your sense of understanding? You are a grief counselor, and I am terrified.
GRIEF COUNSELOR: Hey, don't worry, I have seen your Test scores and well, you'll do just fine.
Blackout
Scene 5
Lights up on Mr. Harrison sitting in the chair staring at the door, the Grief Counselor enters.
MR. HARRISON: Right on time.
GRIEF COUNSELOR: Uncanny how the senses adjust to telling time with no windows or clock, just uncanny. OK, four days, any progress?
MR. HARRISON: I like the food.
GRIEF COUNSELOR: I know. I just live for meatloaf day.
(Sliding the case a little closer to Mr. Harrison)
Have you even opened it yet?
MR. HARRISON: No. But I bet it's a gun.
GRIEF COUNSELOR: Uncanny
MR. HARRISON: I won't do it.
GRIEF COUNSELOR: Maybe not today then, probably not tomorrow either.
MR. HARRISON: Why do you say that?
GRIEF COUNSELOR: Meatloaf day.
Blackout
Lights up on Mr. Harrison in the chair, and the Grief Counselor in the doorway
GRIEF COUNSELOR: Today?
MR. HARRISON: No.
Blackout
Lights up, again on Mr. Harrison in the chair, and the Grief Counselor in the doorway
GRIEF COUNSELOR: And Today?
MR. HARRISON: NO!
Blackout
Lights up, Mr. Harrison is slumped on the floor head buried in his arms, the door opens...
MR. HARRISON: Go Away.
GRIEF COUNSELOR: Now Mr. Harrison, you know I can't do that.
MR. HARRISON: I formally refuse the Patriot Option. Formally. If you give me a pen and paper I will put that in writing. So... now what, are we going to be roommates?
(Grief Counselor checks the lap top)
GRIEF COUNSELOR: No. We're not a match.
MR. HARRISON: This is a nightmare.
GRIEF COUNSELOR: Tell me about it...
MR. HARRISON: What?
GRIEF COUNSELOR: What? Oh, nothing... I was just saying... OK, well Mr. Harrison, I guess I will see you tomorrow then.
(Gets up to leave.)
MR. HARRISON: What did you want to be?
GRIEF COUNSELOR: What?
MR. HARRISON: Before you scored "Baker". What did you want to do?
GRIEF COUNSELOR: (Laughing uncomfortably) Maybe I wanted to be a baker.
MR. HARRISON: Well then, the system works. Apparently you wanted to help people kill themselves in your spare time as well. Nice spectrum.
GRIEF COUNSELOR: Look, what does it matter? I mean, what difference does it make if I wanted to bake or write?
MR. HARRISON: Write?
GRIEF COUNSELOR: What?
MR. HARRISON: Write what?
GRIEF COUNSELOR: (looking up at unseen camera) Nothing! Mr. Harrison. Stop Please.
MR. HARRISON: No. You want something from me right? Then give something...
GRIEF COUNSELOR: You know I can't do that Mr. Harrison.
MR. HARRISON: What exactly can you do then?
Silence
Well?
GRIEF COUNSELOR: I'm not a very good baker.
MR. HARRISON: Oh.
GRIEF COUNSELOR: ...and because I'm not a very good baker I owe time.
MR. HARRISON: Owe time?
GRIEF COUNSELOR: (Looking nervously at the unseen camera) Mr. Harrison, if you can't do the option you choose then you get to do something that has a high rate of depletion.
MR. HARRISON: Depletion?
GRIEF COUNSELOR: Depletion Mr. Harrison, Mine worker, Explosive specialist... Grief Counselor.
MR. HARRISON: Grief Counselor?
GRIEF COUNSELOR: I'm freely handing a scared and confused individual a loaded gun and asking him to use it. Often they do...
MR. HARRISON: Then what?
GRIEF COUNSELOR: Well, murder gets you the death penalty, so I guess it all comes out in the wash.
MR. HARRISON: (coming to a sudden realization) Wait, you're telling me that I couldn't get any of those jobs, I just have to off myself instead? Maybe I would like to take my chances?
GRIEF COUNSELOR: They're reserved Mr. Harrison... for when the system...
MR. HARRISON: Fails?
GRIEF COUNSELOR: Mr. Harrison (pauses) Mr. Harrison, the system... (Looks up at the unseen camera, speaking quickly) Mr. Harrison the system isn't always perfect. My only option was to be a baker, I didn't choose it and I can only guess is that there was some horrible industry accident that saved my artsy ass from the Patriot Option... Take the option Mr. Harrison, I wish I had...
MR. HARRISON: Kill me then... I can't...
GRIEF COUNSELOR: I can't...
MR. HARRISON: (Standing up, screaming at the unseen camera) you can't make me do this! Do you hear me? I am a musician! Let me out of here! I want my mom, I want to go home. Let me out of this nut house!
(Slumps into the chair with his head between his legs and begins to sob)
This isn't happening, this isn't happening...
The grief counselor reaches out and takes the black case... he looks sympathetically at Mr. Harrison. He slowly, quietly unzips the case, he takes out what looks like a single shot revolver and places the gun to his head
GRIEF COUNSELOR: Good luck Mr. Harrison. (Shoots himself and slumps to the floor)
Blackout as Mr. Harrison screams...
Scene 6
Lights come up on a familiar scene. Mr. Harrison sits slumped in front of the Intake worker who aims a bottle of water at him.
INTAKE COUNSELOR: Mr. Harrison? Hello, Mr. Harrison? Bless his heart, he must be so tired...
(Squirts him)
Wake up Mr. Harrison. Congratulations Mr. Harrison, you are no longer triple O!
MR. HARRISON: (without looking up) Triple O?
INTAKE COUNSELOR: Oh good you're awake. Triple O, Out of Options, you are no longer triple O.
MR. HARRISON: I won't kill myself.
INTAKE COUNSELOR: Oh, sweetie, you aren't required to take the Patriot Option any more, I mean you can if you want but due to worker depletion an option has become available!
MR. HARRISON: What about my "evaluation"
INTAKE COUNSELOR: Oh, we can govern that with medication if absolutely necessary. You should be able to do this job just fine!
MR. HARRISON: I don't understand...
INTAKE COUNSELOR: I know honey. Congratulations Mr. Harrison, how do you feel about baking?
Blackout
