Captive or The Cell by Makki Marseilles

This Play is the copyright of the Author and may not be performed, copied or sold without the Author's prior consent

Scene One

A narrow, bare room with a low ceiling. There is only one single door
but no window, no furniture, only a chair. In one corner of the room
there is a radiator on which a pair of handcuffs, one ring open, is
hanging from the pipe which disappears into the concrete floor.

When the lights go up, a young man is discovered sitting on a chair
the only piece of furniture in the room which has the appearance of a
cell. He has his eyes closed, he appears to be asleep or meditating,
but he is doing neither. He stays in the chair long enough to give the
audience the opportunity to register the bareness of the room/cell and
his own appearance, his clothes, his posture. He is thin, slightly
emaciated, with long un-kept hair and beard. He appears fragile and
resigned but deep down there is something resembling the tension of a
wire.

When the attention of the audience is focused on him he gets up
slowly, goes close to the radiator and sits on the floor. He takes a
black strip of material from his pocket and blindfolds himself. He
places the open ring of the handcuffs on his wrist and snaps it close.
His movements are slow, deliberate almost languid. He waits.

The solitary door on the left opens and a man enters cautiously. He
is dark, Arab-looking, dressed in military uniform without insignia.
He is holding a semi-automatic pistol. He looks intently at the
sitting man, who becomes slowly aware of him. The Arab-looking man,
slowly, gingerly approaches the sitting man and examines him: the
posture, the handcuffs, everything. Suddenly, unexpectedly he delivers
a kick. The sitting man winces feeling the pain.

ARAB: You pig! You filthy pig! You filthy, capitalist pig! You
filthy, western, capitalist pig! (He punctuates his insults with more kicks) You
blood-sucking pigYou shit-sucking pigYou blood-sucking, shit-sucking,
western capitalist pig (He gets more excited and violent by the activity)
You bastard, you fucking bastard, I'd like to kick the shit out of
you, I'd like to wipe that smirk off your face; that superior,
saintly, suffering smirk of your shit-licking facedo you hear me,
sucker?

MAN: No, no, no. It wasn't like that. It wasn't like that.
(The Arab looking man relaxes. The captive takes off his blindfold
with his free hand, then digs in his pocket, brings out a key and unlocks
the handcuffs releasing himself.) You're hopeless! You are really hopeless!
We went through with this several times and I told you it was not like that at all

ARAB: (sits on the chair resignedly the pistol resting comfortably
on his lap) OK! OK! Keep your hair on, will you? It was not like that,
OK. Suppose you tell me how it was. I am no actor, you know.

MAN: My God! You don't understand do you? What does acting have to
do with it for God's sake? I don't want you to act. This is not
about acting, or simulation, make believe or anything of that sort. It
has to be real; it has to be like it was otherwise it will not
work

ARAB: Listen, I want to help

MAN: Then do it, do what I tell you. Look, this room is as it was,
the handcuffs are real and so is the blindfold. It's like the
darkness I felt and the lack of noise, the noise I didn't hear.
Everything here is real, everything as it was, except you. You are not
real, you are not like them.

ARAB: It's not that easy

MAN: I know. I know it is not easy. They hated me. No, no, that's
not true. That's not strictly true. They did not hate me, well, not
me personally, but what I represented, what I represented in their
eyes, not what I truly represented. There were not interested to know
whether I was an opponent or a supporter of their cause. It didn't
really matter. There is a fine irony in that which I alone can
appreciate.
(Pause)
I often wondered why they chose me. Why me? I was not very important.
I had not been in the country very long, I hadn't had the chance to
develop any kind of activity. The few contacts I had I used sparingly;
I tried not to compromise my sources. My activities were not overtly
challenging, dangerous or undermining. Why me? I had time to ponder
this question but I didn't come up with any satisfactory answer

ARAB: There is an irresistible appeal about an ordinary person
particularly under the circumstances. I expect they wanted to make the
point that no one is degager; everybody is involved in some way or
another, not just the rich and famous, the diplomats or the
politicians, but the ordinary people too. They might have wanted to
drive home the point that it is not possible to secure everybody, that
whatever security measures one takes ordinary people are vulnerable.
They might have calculated that the impact of your captivity on
ordinary people could work in their favour

MAN: It could have been a mistake.

ARAB: You don't believe that, do you? (Pause) I suppose it's
possible; anything is possiblebut not very probable.

MAN: Why not?

ARAB: Because these people don't make mistakes. They know what they
are doing. I'd say they knew what they were doing when they picked
you.

MAN: Yes, but why?

ARAB: OK, this is only a theory so you have to bear with me, right? I
am not saying that's what they thought but it fits what we were
talking about earlier. You are not very well-known but you are
scarcely a nobody either and you go about unguarded. From that point
of view you fit the bill perfectly. Maximum impact with minimum risk.
I think they wanted someone who can raise enough concern in the right
quarters. The sort of person who is not constantly in the glare of
publicity and therefore fair game for kidnappers but the sort of
person who could take care of himself; who should know how to take
care of himself. Someone like you! Not some ordinary person going
about his or her ordinary business, not someone from the crowd, but
someone governments cannot ignore. Someone the public identifies with.
Someone like you. I'd say they picked you

MAN: (musing) I am not saying it doesn't make sense what you're
saying but there has to be something else, something more than
that

ARAB: Why? For God's sake, why? What are you searching for? Isn't
enough what they did to you? You're in the Goddam country, in that
Goddam, God forsaken arse-hole of a country, you're doing a job. The
bastards are killing each other and you are doing a job. You are
letting the world know what is like, the hell, the pain, the misery,
the bombs, the killing, the politics. Not sensationalizing, just
reporting, news. You are the medium between them and the outside
world. Without you they'd eliminate each other and no one would know
or give a damn. They ought to be grateful to you but instead they
kidnap you; they keep you captive for more than five years while they
barter like common thieves with your life on the one hand and a
handful of dollars on the other. A handful of dollars to make gun
dealers richer. A handful of dollars to feed the snake they are
supposed to be fighting. It's absurd! They captured you, they
tortured you

MAN: It wasn't like that.It wasn't like that.

ARAB: No? Then you tell me what it was like.

MAN: I am tired. Do you mind if we end this session here? I need to
rest, I need to concentrate.

ARAB: No, yes, of course anything you sayWhat do you fancy doing
tonight? Going for a pint?

MAN: In a pub?

ARAB: Where else? In a pub, of course; unless you want to go out with
your father. He phoned in again. He keeps asking when he'll be able
to see you. He thinks we are keeping you away from him. I explained
that as far as we are concerned you make the decisions when and who
you want to see but I don't think he believes me. I explained that
people who have gone through the kind of traumatic experience you have
gone through take a long time to adjust to what we call 'normal' lifebut I don't
think he believes that either Well, anyway, it's up to you. You know you are not
compelled to do anything you don't like. You don't owe us anything you know.
You've done your duty. We live in a democracy. You can even refuse
to take part in these de-briefings if you so chooseIf you don't
want to see people that's fine by us. Have a quite evening at home,
so to speak. I can have some food sent in and a few cans of beer. We
can sit here quietlyWe can listen to music, watch the telly if you
like We could talk about the past I could fill you in on what
went on while you were away

MAN: (aggressively) No, I am not going to listen to you. I know what
you're after. This is an old technique isn't? Win their
confidence, make them feel at home, identify with their captors. Well,
it is not going to work, do you hear me? I want to go, I want out of
here, let me outI am not obliged to stay here, you said so
yourself, I am a free man

(He is extremely agitated, shouting almost screaming at the top of
his voice, gesticulating wildly. When he makes a decisive step towards
the door the Arab grabs the semi-automatic and releases the safety
catch. The sound of the arming of the gun stops the man dead on his
tracks.)

ARAB: Now, slowly, easily, don't take another step. (the man
remains with his back to the Arab) Relax, take it easy, alright?
Don't do anything foolish. Don't make me do this. OK, now gently.
Come back gently
(Man turns slowly and submits to the orders of the Arab)
That's it. This is a little more likely. All this about
co-operation and rehabilitation is all bullshit, isn't? So much
freshly-made crap. We are delighted to have you back. You can be our
guest as long as you like, you are free to go when you like, it's
all a charade, isn't? Welcome home hero. We have been waiting for
you all this time with open arms. We want to find out how you work, we
want to find out how they work. How long you can last in the dark, how
long you can last without food, without news, under stress, talking to
no one, talking to yourself, keeping silent. Can you move your bowels
properly, can you pronounce your vowels clearly? Do you recognize your
family? Can you make love to your girlfriend? Are you going to wake up
screaming at night? We want to know everything.The kidnappers may
want to close the hostage file but we want to open the great
voluminous book of science and terror. What do I hear you say? Human
rights? Don't make me laugh. You have to be mentally retarded to
believe in that crap. We are all pawns. Expendable. Your contribution
could actually help others. We can train people to endure more. You
are a double hero, did you know that? Once because you survived your
ordeal and a second one for submitting yourself to thisIf you
survive this one you are going to be asaint.

MAN: (angrily) Leave me alone, God damn you, leave me alone. I
don't want this anymore. I want out, do you hear me? I withdraw my
co-operation. Let me out this very moment. (Pleading) Please let me
out, please, I can't take any more of this(He breaks down in
tears)

ARAB: (softly) Take it easy, take it easy, will you? After all it was
you who wanted this. You wanted to tell us what it was like

MAN: I wanted to tell you what it was like? I wanted to tell you
what it was like? Why did I want to do that? How could I do that! What
was I thinking about? How would you know what it was like? How would I
know what it was like?

ARAB: Alright! Calm down. Calm yourself down. You are distraught. You
were there; you went through a very traumatic experience, an
experience which is likely to affect the rest of your life. Everything
is changed and nothing is going to be the same again. When people go
through the kind of experience you went through they get disoriented;
they think they are well but they are not; they behave normally but
they suffer deeply. We are here to help you; we have the means to help
you get back to normal, whatever normal may mean. You said you wanted
to co-operate; you volunteered to go through the process; you said you
were ready to confront the experience; you said you wanted to exorcise
it

MAN: Lies! I said nothing of the sort. You made it up. You made all
this up. You put all these lies in my head. Recount the experience,
exorcise it. What do you know about it? You've studied, you've
experimented, you classified, I grant you that, but I was there. I
lived the experience, I lived it and I don't want to relive it,
recount it; exorcise it. I don't even want to remember it. I want to
go home. All I want is to go home, to be free to go back to my family,
to my friends, to my job, to my life. You are stealing my life,
Goddamn you go away, go away

ARAB: Listen to me; listen to me for a moment. All this is natural.
It is a natural reaction, predictable, something to be expected. We
discussed it, remember? We took it into consideration before we
started. What's come over you all of a sudden? Take it easy! Don't
screw now. We are near the end; everything is going to be alright.

(The man is in a great state of excitement. He runs around the place
shouting and screaming and hitting his head against the wall. The Arab
takes a small gun from one of his pockets, aims at the man and presses
the trigger. There is a small hissing sound and a hypodermic syringe
shoots out. The man reacts as though a mosquito has bitten him, stops,
slowly calms down and eventually collapses near the radiator. The Arab
replaces the gun in his pocket, handcuffs the man to the radiator,
blindfolds him, checks that everything is as it should be then slowly
he goes out.) Lights fade out in the cell.

(The following tableau is optional and depends entirely on the
shape, size and technical facilities of the theatre and the
company's resources. )

Lights at the back of the stage reveal an observation room. Banks of
television sets and sound equipment. Two people in white coats are
standing in the room observing the prisoner. The Arab we have just
seen with the prisoner joins them. They confer together but we cannot
hear what they say. The Arab sits in front of a monitor and puts
earphones on. The sound of a heartbeat, now regular, now irregular
comes over the system, getting louder and louder.

Lights fade in the observation room and go up in the cell. The man
is as we left him chained to the radiator. He hasn't moved. The door
opens and a young woman enters. She is dressed in military gear just
as the Arab-looking man was before her and she is carrying a similar
sub-machine gun strapped to her chest. She is also carrying a mess
plate in one hand. She stands in the middle of the room looking at the
prisoner without moving. Slowly, very slowly he becomes aware of her.


MAN: (shifts his position slightly to make himself a little more
comfortable)
Is anyone there? (the girl doesn't reply) Who's there?
(still no reply)
I know you're there.

GIRL: (after a pause) Food. (The man stretches his arm searching
for the food like a blind man. The girl pushes the mess plate towards
him with her foot so that he could find it. He finds it eventually,
takes a handful of what looks like rice and stuffs it in his mouth. He
spits it out in disgust and then throws the mess plate away.)

MAN: Shit! Filthy shit! It wasn't like that; it wasn't like that
at all

GIRL: I'll pass your complaints to the chef (She turns to go)

MAN: Just a minute! Don't go please. Help me up I am sorry, I
didn't mean to be so rudeIt wasn't really like that

GIRL: Do you want to talk about it?

MAN: II don't know whether I can.

GIRL: Do you want any help?

MAN: Yes, yes, I wantI need all the help I can get.

(The girl puts the gun down and approaches gingerly. She takes off
his
blindfold, slowly, tenderly, then unlocks the handcuffs. The man
rubs his wrist to relieve the pain and his eyes to adjust to the lights which is
not very strong anyway. The girl takes his face in her hands)

GIRL: (tenderly) You've suffered, haven't you? (man nods) We
were with you but in no way we could begin to feel what you felt. We
were there intellectually, imaginatively but not in reality. Only you
had that, only you alone. It was fate, privilege, the ultimate
mystery, the most God-like experience. Never mind, you're here now,
you are with us, it's over, the whole thing is over

(Her speech has a kind of hypnotic, soothing, but also erotic tone
about it. She begins to hug him and kiss him, gently, carefully to
start with, then more boldly. At first he is uncertain how to respond,
but slowly he becomes more confident. They go into a clinch and he
begins to tear at her hungrily, seeking her lips, her breasts, her
whole body. She allows him to go on matching his passion but he
suddenly breaks off.)

MAN: (pushes the girl away) No, no, no, it wasn't like that, it
wasn't like that. You filthy cow, get away from me you dirty
bitch

GIRL: I waited for five years

MAN: Lies

GIRL: It's not that there were no offers

MAN: Filth

GIRL: I had to resist

MAN: Lies! Deceit! Who are you? What are you doing here? Who sent
you? You're not my woman. You are one of them. They hired you, they
sent you. A whore, a professional. Come on, admit it. What are you
doing it for? Money? Power? Do you do it because you like it, or is
this your contribution to the cause?

[end of extract]

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