DIE BARACKE. E-Book

Aiat Fayez

• Herausgeber: Union des Théâtres de l´Europe
• Kategorie: Geisteswissenschaft
• Sprache: Deutsch

Seitenzahl: 1026

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2015

Beschreibung

DE: DIE BARACKE – Übersetzer: Frank Weigand EN: THE SHACK – Translator, Kate McNaughton Editor: Union des Théâtres de l´Europe TERRORisms is a cooperation project led by the “Union des Théâtres de l´Europe” with the support of the “Culture” programme of the European Union. Developed in collaboration between five theatres in Stuttgart, Oslo, Belgrade, Tel Aviv and Reims, the TERRORisms project resulted in the creation of five original plays dealing with the issue of terrorism. Written over the period of 2013 through 2015, the plays by Fritz Kater in Stuttgart, Milena Marković in Belgrade, Maya Arad in Tel Aviv, Jonas Corell Petersen in Oslo and Aiat Fayez in Reims led to the organisation of a series of world premieres, production exchanges, meetings, conferences and discussions all around Europe and beyond. These five plays — the original version and their translations into English and German — are now available as an eBook, for free.

Leseprobe

PROLOGUE

REINHOLD GÖRLING’S speech At the Inaugural Conference of the TERRORisms project at the National Theatre in OsloThe Intrigue of Terrorism (EN)Terrorisms Intrige (NOR)

THE TERRORISMS PLAYS

AIAT FAYEZ:La BaraqueThe Shack (EN)Die Baracke (DE)Material on the world premiere in Reims

FRITZ KATER:5 morgen5 mornings (EN)5 mattine (IT)Material on the world premiere in Stuttgart

MILENA MARKOVIĆ:ZmajeubiceThe Dragonslayers (EN)Drachentöter (DE)Material on the world premiere in Belgrade

MAYA ARAD:אלוהים מחכה בתחנהGod Waits at the Station (EN)Gott wartet an der Haltestelle (DE)Material on the world premiere in Tel Aviv

JONAS CORELL PETERSEN:Vi Tygger På Tidens KnoklerWe Chew on the Bones of Time (EN)Wir nagen an den Knochen der Zeit (DE)Material on the world premiere in Oslo

EPILOGUE

REINHOLD GÖRLING’S speech At the TERRORisms Festival at the Schauspiel StuttgartTerror und Theater (DE)Terror and Theatre (EN)

IMPRINT

COPYRIGHT

Playwrights

About TERRORisms

About Union des Théâtres de l´Europe

Reinhold GörlingThe Intrigue of Terrorism

Speech held at the Inaugural Conference of the UTE TERRORisms project at the Nationaltheatret Oslo, Norway, on 15 September 2013.

I'm proud and happy to be part of this fascinating and important project. When I accepted giving an introductory talk I didn't do this because I believed that philosophy or cultural and media studies would know what terrorism is better than art and especially theatre. On the contrary. I think it is theatre that gives us the most precise idea of the phenomenon we call terrorism. I will try to explain why. My thoughts come in 5 sections: they are entitled 1) scenario; 2) intrigue; 3) theatre and theatricality; 4) violence and communication; 5) public feelings.

1. Scenario

The first proof that theatre knows more about terrorism than others, including those who are protagonists of terrorism, is the title of our project. When you google the term terrorisms, the plural, you pretty soon come to the home page of the Union des Théâtres de l'Europe. There are very few other entries to be found. There is one quite small current of studies in political sciences interested in policy advise that speaks of different terrorisms, often in quotation marks. Most of them differentiate between four kinds of motivation of terrorist groups – national-seperatist, reactionary, revolutionary, religious – and argue that state politics should handle them differently because each of them reacts in a specific way to politics of conciliation, legal reform, repression, or violence.

The decision of those who invented this/our project to speak of terrorisms may have known these arguments to be found in political sciences but I'm sure that they had a more complex idea in mind. There is one problem, a key or categorial problem in this argument mentioned, that people with a sense for theatre, rituals, performance of social relations would never neglect: There are different motivations and these motivations express themselves in different discourses that might be categorized with these four concepts that I've mentioned: national-speratist, reactionary, revolutionary, religious. But: very few of those who are called terrorists by one political camp would call themselves terrorists, and the few who do it often do it in an ironic manner.

This ironic use of the notion of terrorism makes clear that it would be too easy to just turn the concept around and say that terrorism would be a term used only to signify the other. We all have something in mind when we speak about terrorism. And this is not just something cognitive. We have emotions, affects, even our bodies react in a certain way. Terrorism seems to be a much more complex thing. It is something we are involved in, not only the other. It is something that ties us together: us, the other, us and the other. Some scholars in political science say that terrorism works by exclusion of a third position. That is not exactly true. We are often confronted with violence in media or perhaps even in the streets and show no necessity to join a party. Most of us will remember watching the Twin Towers burn and crumble down. It was horrible. But we will remember too, that this was not all, that there was a kind of beauty there, a kind of fascination that we felt and that left us with quite an ambivalent consciousness. It doesn't seem to be forbidden to stay neutral, but to articulate an ambivalence. We can look and then turn a blind eye to it. But we are not allowed to look and say that seeing or hearing things is a multilevel event. That there is no automatism that looking at strange, dangerous, unknown or even ugly or cruel things leads to a moral objection.

Terrorism is no isolated act. It is an act that cannot be understood as something that only happens between two people, between a perpetrator and a victim. Terrorism is something that involves a perpetrator, a victim, a spectator, a bystander, a witness.

If this is right, then it would be consequent to speak of terrorism not as a single act, but as a certain network or assemblage of feelings, thoughts, acts, institutions, things. Diana Taylor, professor of Performance Studies at New York University, speaks of terrorism as a scenario. I quote an article by her, written in 2009:

“Albeit in different ways, we are all required to participate in the scenario, to undergo ritual acts of surveillance by showing our IDs, submitting to searches, taking off our shoes, reacting to color-coded alerts, and having our phones tapped. We perform terror every day; we incorporate it.”

Using the term terrorism in plural implies two ideas: on the one hand, we always have a very special scenario, an always singular assemblage of institutions, organizations, notions, weapons, things, mediations, traditions, histories, subjectivities, memories, imaginations, phantasies, actors and actions. On the other hand there are some common ways this assemblage or scenario is bound together, there is some common scene interwoven into the scenario, some kind of intrigue. To speak about terrorisms means: we have an always singular and constantly changing assemblage of persons, things, institutions etc, that compose the scenario. And it means that there is a certain power, a certain set of affects, that different terrorisms have in common. I will now focus mainly on this: the intrigue of terrorism.

2. The Intrigue of terrorism

Intrigue is a term used in theatre theory. But be frank, I didn't come across this concept in the context of theatre but by reading a philosophical text. The Lithuanian-French philosopher Emmanuel Lévinas borrows this theatrical concept for his ethics and uses it to describe the relation of the self to the other. One gets involved into this relation without ever having decided to be in relation, without ever having been conscious about the reason and the origin. We are always already addressed before we answer. The intrigue, for Lévinas, is a non-intended, non-linear, irreversible relation to the other. One is at the same time bound to the other and separated from the other. For Lévinas, this “intrigue dia-chronique

… entre le Même et l'Autre” becomes the knot of subjectivity. This intrigue is diachronic in the sense that it is a co- presence of two times. I'm always already addressed and affected by the other before I know who or what is addressing and affecting me, before I can intentionally refer to something or someone that would be an object. This time lag cannot be bridged.

An intrigue can be a relation to another person, but there are a lot more relations that can have this quality. We are in a complex relation of exchange with our environment, my surroundings have always already addressed me, affected me, before I relate to them: the atmosphere, the air, the light, the chirping of the birds, the rhythm people express when thy cross the street, the voice I hear and can perhaps distinguish from a dozen other ones who are speaking in the restaurant, the way someone moves his head or his arms that let my senses or my body know that he or she is there long before my consciousness has grasped what is going on. Most of these scenes are intrigues that help me through the day, that help me getting up in the morning and indicate, what kind of music I would like to hear when I come home after a day of work. And there are intrigues that leave a mark on our lives.

Most of us wouldn't really be able to say why we are falling in love with this woman or man and not with somebody else. And why we continue to love her or him. When we start to explain it we immediately feel that we breath the thin air of rationalizations. We live quite well with a lot of such intrigues. They stabilize us in the world, they prevent us from falling. But there are other intrigues we feel insecure with, persecuted, frightened.

Most of the latter have a double bind structure: They are threatening and give a kind of release or at least a kind of promise for a release at the same time. The intrigue of terrorism has such a double bind structure: It demonstrates how vulnerable we are, how easy it is to fall. But in doing this terrorism provides us with a picture, an ideology, even a feeling of community. After three years of research in Rwanda Philip Gurjevich wrote: “Genocide, after all is an exercise in community building.”

Not every terror is terrorism. There is a kind of terror that even destroys the scenario in which it takes place. The African sociologist Achile Mbembe calls this necropolitic. It involves another kind of intruigue: intended traumatization. The intrigue of traumatization is an expropriation of all that gives place to the self: the body, the senses, the social relation, the environment. Torture and genocide realize this intrigue.

Terrorism works differently. People directly involved in violent events can be traumatized by them, that is obvious. But mediated traumatization is very rare. Watching the twin towers fall on the tv screen may re- actualize an existing trauma, but does not cause it. We have the picture of the falling towers im mind. And they don't have the quality of flash backs.

What is at the core of the double bind of terrorism, why is it so powerful? It is not only a problem of paradoxical communication, as Gregory Bateson and his colleagues who coined this term in the 1960ties thought. It has something to do with the nature of fear. Fear is an anticipatory faculty. We never exactly know what we are afraid of. But the anticipatory faculty works in relation to a remembrance that we don't have in mind as an exact idea or picture. In the centre of our sensation of fear there is a vague remembrance of breakdown. It originates in experiences of falling, of helplessness, probably all of us have suffered in early childhood, as Donald W. Winnicott assumes. In this age of development the child hasn't yet developed a psychic structure that would allow to archive experiences in the way that psychoanalysis calls psychic representation. When there is no psychic representation of an experience the experience is archived in a kind of mood or affect. To fall, to lose social bonds, to be helpless is less a remembrance than an affect. If we can relate these affects to images, stories, and even to the schemes of ideologies, it helps us to regulate these affects. Perhaps this explanation cannot cover all of the fascination and ambivalence we feel looking at horrifying events. But it's an important element to understand the dynamics of terrorism.

3. Theatre and Theatricality

It is certainly not casual that intrigue is a term derived from the theory of theatre. If we follow Lévinas in seeing the intrigue as dia-chronic, as something we feel adressed by that always precedes us and that therefore can never be represented as an object – and you probably notice the similarity to Winnicott's idea of the fear of breakdown – if this is so, than the only way to get in touch with what cannot be represented is to stage it, to perform it. To put it more carefully said: the most important way European culture has invented to do this is to stage it. That is why theatre is at the core of European culture - as Ruth has shown in her book Erfahrung des Unmöglichen: Experience of the Impossible. Sigmund Freud was aware of this crucial role of theatre for our culture. Not only because he practically developed all his analyses of intrigues by reflecting on theatre: on Sophocles, Shakespeare etc. He has shown that dreams follow the form of theatrical performances, and our phantasy does it too. The origin of phantasy is a scene.

In October 1984, Harper's magazine published a set of articles bound together under the title “Lost in the Terrorist Theatre.” The Iran hostage crisis of 1979 to 1981 was one of the examples the articles referred to. It was the start up of a discussion we still haven't finished, the start up of the main global scenario of a terrorism we are still embodying. But already then there was a categorial impreciseness in such a title. There is a theatricality of practically all human forms of expression; and above all there is a theatricality of violence I will come back to in a minute. We call it theatricality because we have developed a tool that helps us to get an idea of this mechanism, this structure that is at the core of the relation between me and the other, and perhaps also at the core of the relation between the individual and the society. We call this tool theatre. But what it helps to understand is not the theatre of violence or everyday life but the theatricality (– or it's performativity as Samuel Weber proposes to highlight the difference.)

But what do we do with phrases like these: „The theatre must give us everything that is in crime, love, war or madness, if it wants to recover its necessity... Hence this appeal to cruelty and terror … on a vast scale.“ This is from Antonin Artauds Theatre of Cruelty, 1933. Let me read the French original to you: Tout ce qui est dans l'amour, dans le crime, dans la guerre, ou dans la folie, il faut que le théâtre nous le rendre, s'il veut retrouver sa nécessité. …. D'ou cet appel à la cruauté et à la terreur, mais sur un plane vast...” Richard Schechner quotes this phrases in an essay about terrorism called “9/11 as avantgarde”. Even Schechner, professor of performance studies at NYU who wrote so many important books on performance art, looses the ability to distinguish between theatre and theatricality. Artaud didn't plead for a representation of violence and cruelty. He talks about the sensibility, la sensibilité du spectateur. He pleads for a theatre that is able to perform the intrigues to make them visible, sensible, to open up the coercion of the double bind. And when he wrote these lines in 1933, he had as strong and realistic feeling of the catastrophe that was on the way. Perhaps you remember the end of this text: I”Il s'agit maintenant de savoir si, à Paris, avant les catcylsmes qui s'annoncent, on pourra trouver assez de moyens de réalization, financiers ou autres, pour permettre à un Semblable théâtre de vivre...”

I could stop here with these quotes by Artaud, but I have two more points that perhaps could be helpful for our discussion.

4. Violence and Communication

Isn't art a kind of terrorism? This question came up during the preparation for this conference. Why does even someone like Schechner quote Artaud when he writes about terrorism? His own argument is that the boundaries between reality and media have been blurred. But has there ever been a clear boundary? Has there ever been an unmediated reality? You might answer no, there never was. But the intensity has changed, mediation has become ubiquitous. Sure, but I think Artaud's Théâtre de la Cruauté already has to be understood as an answer to this development.

But there is an other problem behind it. We tend to avoid talking about the relation between violence and communication.

At least in Germany with the strong impact of philosophers like Jürgen Habermas we always think that communication would be a thing without violence and violence would be a kind of disruption of communication. But this is misleading in both directions. Violence always includes communication; and communication is never completely free of violence. You address me, you call my name or just say “hi”: it affects me, I feel touched, moved. Lévinas' notion of intrigue implies violence, rapture, obsession, even trauma.

The reason for this supposition which is often unquestioned can be seen in an underestimation of the intensity of thenon-cognitive or non-linguistic that is part of every communication and that works even when we don't speak. And it is again theatre that is able to give us the most precise impression of it: Someone is on the stage looking to the audience. Another person is entering the stage. Perhaps he or she isn't seen, but felt by the first person. And all people present in the theatre react, communicate, including the spectators. And if you add one single chair somewhere on the stage, or just one line drawn on the floor, theatre begins.

The Western cultures tend to avoid or even deny the violence of communication. When we notice it, we feel irritated because we begin to see the violence of what we call normality. And this is not a comfortable situation, because we urgently need to have an idea how to decide what kind of violence is tolerable and what kind of violence should be condemned. So what is there to do?

Isn't it again theatre that shows a way to find an answer by inventing a space to stage and to reenact the intrigue? It is a way to interrupt the automatisms of the intrigue, to open up the possibility of new assemblages.

There is no agency that would not be communication. And this is true especially for violent acts. There is no act of war that would be realized without the motive to show something to the enemy: to show him his vulnerability, his weakness, my power, my cruelty, my unlimited capacity to destroy. And this is also true for terrorist acts. But what they intend to say, tacitly or consciously, how the addressed understands the act, how he answers, this is the always specific scenario of very terrorism.

5. Public Feelings

It is part of the same underestimation of non cognitive dimensions of communication and of society that we so rarely talk about public feelings. But our feelings are not enclosed in our body. The world with all the things it brings with it addresses me, affects me. Shame, thread, joy, excitement, obsession, mourning, abjection, exclusion: all these qualities are public feelings articulated in things and scenes.

Trust is another public feeling and an important one. Trust is a basic clue of modern societies, or, to put it differently, of societies that don't rely on codified roles and are subject to a constant change. I have to trust my neighbour recognizing my existence, my vulnerability, my needs at least in a basic way. But there are modern societies that don't trust in acknowledging the other but in violence. Jan Philipp Reemtsma writes in his book Trust and Violence that the European history of the first half of the 20ties century is characterized by an increasing trust in violence. We do not always notice early enough that this process of replacing the trust in recognition of the other and of social institutions is taking place.

It can be a subtle process that we only notice when the catastrophe is already happening. The logic of terrorism initiates and fuels this replacement. Here again theatre can play an important role. It has played it throughout its history: from Greek theatre to Shakespeare to this project by the Union des Théâtres de l'Europe.

Thank you.

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Aiat Fayez

LA BARAQUE

Union des Théâtres de l'Europe

Malheureusement, nous n'avons pas été autorisés à publier le texte original français dans cet ebook.

Leider wurde uns nicht gestattet, den französischen Originaltext in das E-Book aufzunehmen.

Unfortunately, we were not permitted to include the original French text in this e-book.

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Aiat Fayez

THE SHACK

Translated from French by Kate McNaughton

Union des Théâtres de l'Europe

Characters:

LITTLE

BIG

BOSCO

CHINAMAN

VIRGINIE

MARWANI

A flat.

There is a giant screen in the living room.

The giant screen serves as a television. Sometimes, to clarify the point in time, the screen briefly displays a virtual calendar and, if need be, a virtual watch.

The stage directions are provided to help with reading the play. There is no obligation to follow them, nor indeed to follow anything or anyone.

1

The virtual calendar displays a date and the watch a time in the evening – let’s say 8 pm.

Sound of a helicopter flying overhead.

Pause.

VIRGINIE

The air is still as polluted as ever outside. Pause. It’s unbearable.

LITTLE

Why are you opening the window? Silence. The city is invisible in places. Pause. He turns towards Virginie. Aren’t you going to light your joint now? He shouldn’t be long.

VIRGINIE

I’ll take care of it as soon as he gets here.

She pretends to throw the joint out of the window.

They both giggle briefly.

Little sits down on the windowsill. They smoke the joint, looking out at the city.

A long silence.

Paris looks strange like this. Silence. That looks like mist over there, doesn’t it? Silence. Is that the Bois de Boulogne?

LITTLE

There’s something English about it. Almost mysterious.

VIRGINIE

You’re right. Like “Jack the Ripper”.

LITTLE

Who?

VIRGINIE

Jack l’Éventreur.

LITTLE

Ah. (Putting on an English accent) “Jack the Ripper”. Pause. Is that the Bois de Boulogne, over there?

Pause.

VIRGINIE

Would you like something to drink?

LITTLE

No.

Virginie goes into the kitchen.

VIRGINIE

You’re out of coffee.

LITTLE

Really?

VIRGINIE

And tea.

LITTLE

Ah.

VIRGINIE

I’m going to have a glass of water. Do you want some?

LITTLE

No.

VIRGINIE

There’s pâté in the fridge.

LITTLE

I’m not hungry, but thank you.

VIRGINIE

Can I open it?

LITTLE

Yes.

Virginie returns with a terrine of pâté.

VIRGINIE

Torane really loved pâté.

She bites into a slice of bread and pâté and immediately spits it back out.

Yuck.

She rushes into the kitchen, turns the tap on and spits into the sink several times. Then she returns to the living room.

There’s something wrong with the fridge.

LITTLE

(while smoking the joint) You smoke too much.

VIRGINIE

Really? Pause. I’m walking in the Bois de Boulogne this morning when I see a girl smoking one cigarette after another. She’s sitting against a tree, badly dressed and weirdly made-up, like someone who started with the eyes and then didn’t have time to finish. I go up to her. She seems surprised for a moment. I ask her if she needs any help. She doesn’t understand French. She asks me a few questions in a strange language. I bring her to my flat. I make her breakfast. When I come into the living room with the breakfast tray, she’s lying on the sofa, naked.

Someone opens the front door.

LITTLE

Is that you?

BIG

No.

LITTLE

(to Virginie) What happened next?

VIRGINIE

I ask her to put her clothes back on.

BIG

Whose voice is that? The girl’s.

VIRGINIE

Virginie.

BIG walks in with a pack of beers in his hand.

BIG

The whole staircase smells of dope.

LITTLE

(to Big) Where were you?

BIG

Is that stench of joint coming from in here?

LITTLE

(to Virginie) Keep going.

VIRGINIE

She keeps her legs spread open, with this wild look on her face, she doesn’t understand me. I try in English, “put back your clothes”, but it doesn’t work.

BIG

(to Little) I’m telling you the whole building smells of dope.

LITTLE

(to Virginie) How did it all end?

VIRGINIE

I threw her out. She kept pestering me. “Money, Money”.

LITTLE

Did you give her anything?

VIRGINIE

A couple of slaps in the face.

BIG

(to Little) Throw that joint outside.

LITTLE

And what if I don’t want to?

BIG

(to Virginie) It’s because you’re here that he’s talking back like this. (to Little) I asked you to do something.

LITTLE

Oh really?

BIG

Throw that joint away right now or I’ll throw you out with it.

LITTLE

(imitating a young woman’s voice) Oh! I’m so scared…

Big comes closer.

Throw me out with it.

BIG

Bitch.

Big comes closer.

LITTLE

(imitating a young woman’s voice) Go on… Throw me out… I’m really, really scared.

Big gives Little a shove in the knees; Little suddenly loses his balance and falls out of the window. We hear the sound of a body crashing onto the ground.

Pause.

They rush out of the flat. Then we hear sirens wailing in the dark city, without it being clear where they are coming from. They get closer. We see flashing blue lights reflected on the walls of the buildings outside. We can hear what is going on below through the open window.

FIREMAN A

Don’t try to get up. Pause. Please don’t try… Hey. You’re coming with us.

LITTLE

No.

FIREMAN A

Sir!

LITTLE

Leave me alone.

FIREMAN B

I’m telling you, you have to come with us.

LITTLE

Out of the question.

BIG

You cretin, get in their car.

LITTLE

I didn’t ask for your opinion.

VIRGINIE

Don’t be stupid, Little.

We hear the firemen talking to Little. Then the sound of Little running up the stairs, followed by the others. Everyone comes into the flat.

FIREMAN B

It’s three floors up, sir.

LITTLE

I don’t care. I’m going to sleep.

VIRGINIE

They’re going to take you for a check-up.

Little goes into the bedroom and locks it.

LITTLE

Leave me alone. I’m having a rest.

BIG

You idiot. Come out of the bedroom.

LITTLE

Fuck off. I’m tired.

Pause.

The firemen talk in whispers with Big and Virginie.

They end up leaving. Virginie leaves soon afterwards.

Big sleeps in the living room.

Darkness. Then, gradually, light.

The virtual watch moves forward to 6 am.

Big gets up. Knocks on the bedroom door.

BIG

Little. Silence. Little?

He knocks hard.

LITTLE

Don’t knock so hard.

BIG

Why aren’t you answering? Pause. Have you been awake for long?

LITTLE

A while already.

BIG

Aren’t you going to come out?

LITTLE

I don’t feel like it.

BIG

Come out. Silence. I want to say sorry. Silence. I’m going to make you a croque-monsieur with ketchup.

LITTLE

I’m not hungry.

BIG

What do you feel like?

LITTLE

Nothing.

BIG

Would you like something to drink? A Red Bull?

LITTLE

Yes.

Big comes back with a can of soda.

Put it down in front of the door.

BIG

Done.

LITTLE

No, closer.

BIG

What are you playing at? Silence. Are you going to come out or am I going to have to kick the door down? Silence. I’m going to kick the door down.

LITTLE

OK.

BIG

Hey! Little.

He wants to say something, but thinks better of it.

Come out. Pause. Please.

LITTLE

I can’t move anymore.

BIG

What’s the matter?

LITTLE

I can’t move anything anymore.

BIG

What?

LITTLE

I’m paralysed.

Silence.

BIG

Are you behind the door? I’m talking to you!

LITTLE

I’m not right behind the door, no.

Big takes a few steps back, then runs up to the door and knocks it in.

He comes out again carrying Little in his arms. Little’s head is enormous, swollen. Awe-inspiring.

2

The virtual calendar moves forward a few weeks.

Virginie and Little are sitting in the living room, with several little bottles in front of them. Virginie is applying cream to Little enormous head. Big comes out of the bathroom, freshly dressed, and goes into the bedroom.

VIRGINIE

He’s really strung out.

LITTLE

Don’t need this one anymore. Pause. I don’t know what’s wrong with him.

VIRGINIE

What about the green one?

BIG

You have to apply all the other ones.

VIRGINIE

(to Little) You’re feeling better, aren’t you?

Big walks into the living room and sits down in front of them, attaching a watch around his wrist.

Is your foot still giving you grief?

Little shakes his head.

LITTLE

There’s just the size of the head, still.

VIRGINIE

What do the doctors have to say about it?

LITTLE

There’s almost no chance of it getting better.

VIRGINIE

Have you seen a lot of them?

BIG

No.

LITTLE

A few.

VIRGINIE

I know a famous plastic surgeon.

BIG

(to Little) You could ask for an appointment.

LITTLE

(to Virginie) Your phone went straight to voicemail earlier.

VIRGINIE

Really? Oh, yes. I went to pick someone up in Noisy. A Middle-Eastern guy.

LITTLE

Iranian?

VIRGINIE

What?

LITTLE

Iraqi?

VIRGINIE

No.

LITTLE

Saudi?

VIRGINIE

No. What was I saying?

LITTLE

About this guy…

VIRGINIE

No, no… Ah. I’m standing in the front carriage of the RER heading to Marne-la-Vallée when, just as it comes into a station, the train goes over something. At that point I think of a horse, then of a dog, a fox, a hare, a rabbit. My head is buzzing with animal suggestions to contradict its secret intuition.

BIG

What time is it now?

LITTLE

(to Virginie) What was it?

VIRGINIE

My thoughts are whizzing through my head at a thousand miles an hour, in all directions except the right one. I tell myself it’s a tree trunk, a chest of drawers, a boiler.

BIG

I’m here too, you know.

LITTLE

(to Virginie) And?

VIRGINIE

I get off the train. There’s a big crowd.

Big gets up, goes into the kitchen.

Big eyes in little faces. Horror all the way down the platform. I don’t want to turn round.

Big comes back with a bin, sits down and puts the bin on his head.

BIG

Please, continue.

A heavy silence.

LITTLE

(to Big) What’s the matter?

BIG

I’m saying I’m here too.

Big takes the bin off his head.

I’m sitting right here.

LITTLE

I know you’re here. (to Virginie) And then?

Virginie doesn’t answer.

Did you see what it was?

VIRGINIE

I just heard: the guy pushed the girl and ran off.

BIG

I got some work.

LITTLE

What?

BIG

I have a job.

LITTLE

Really? What is it?

Pause.

BIG

It’s… It’s not well paid.

LITTLE

You can’t turn down a job offer.

BIG

We’ll make more if I don’t sign up for it.

LITTLE

You’d feel better if you spent time with people.

BIG

I used to have a job, I used to see plenty of people. That didn’t mean I felt good.

LITTLE

It wasn’t a job.

BIG

Oh really?

VIRGINIE

I should go.

LITTLE

(to Virginie) Aren’t you going to have some food with us?

VIRGINIE

I’m late.

Big goes into the kitchen, then sticks his head out in Virginie’s direction.

BIG

(to Virginie) He never, never, never asks himself why I’m the one who has to bring in the money in this flat.

LITTLE

And why I’m the one who has to slave away inside it.

BIG

Because meanwhile, I’m looking for work.

VIRGINIE

See you soon.

LITTLE

Bye. (to Big) You can’t find any.

Coming back into the living room:

BIG

What can’t I mind? Pause. I promise you I’ve found one. I just have to agree to it. I took public transport, I went there, over there, earlier, on the RER. I chatted to the boss himself. He wants me.

LITTLE

What is it, this opportunity? This iron you’re about to take out of the fire?

BIG

It’s…

LITTLE

I’m listening.

Pause.

BIG

Euro Disney.

LITTLE

Disneyland?

Pause.

BIG

You have to… You have to… look after the rides…

LITTLE

That’s easy enough. I’m going to make myself some tea. Would you like some?

BIG

You have to… clean the seats…

LITTLE

Uh-huh. Tea?

BIG

I said no! Pause. There are quite a lot of children who vomit when they’re right at the top, you see, at the top of the rides… And that, it’s my job, it’s my job to take care of it afterwards.

LITTLE

Oh, well I clean the windows every week, after all.

BIG

Shut up!

LITTLE

But –

BIG

You’re doing my head in.

LITTLE

What’s the matter? Pause. What’s wrong? Silence. I lost my balance.

BIG

How?

LITTLE

I lost my balance.

BIG

Ah.

LITTLE

Stupidly.

BIG

I didn’t mean to…

LITTLE

It had nothing to do with what you did… Pause. It’s the shoes… they didn’t have any grip…

BIG

Stop it.

LITTLE

The shoes slipped on the windowsill… Do you understand? This windowsill…

BIG

Really?

LITTLE

I swear.

Pause.

BIG

What kind of shoes were they?

LITTLE

Trek-Pers.

Pause.

BIG

Trek-Pers?

Little nods.

3

The virtual calendar moves forward a month. Big and Little, back in the flat.

LITTLE

They’ll find a solution one day. You haven’t closed the door properly.

Big closes the door.

I’ll have a normal head, in a few years maybe. Who knows? Science is making progress every day. That’s what people say, isn’t it? Do you think it’s making progress?

As he sits down on the sofa, Little squashes a teddy bear, which makes a little sound. Little lifts himself up slightly and puts the teddy bear next to him.

BIG

There’s something for your birthday. In the wardrobe in the bedroom.

LITTLE

What?

BIG

You heard me.

Little goes into the bedroom.

The middle wardrobe.

Little comes back with an enormous box wrapped in wrapping paper. He puts it on the ground. Stares at it.

Open it.

Little opens the box, and fascinatedly examines the little gift that it contains: a protective suit.

There’s something else.

Little looks into the inside of the box, standing on tip-toes, until he falls into it. He gets out of the box holding a case, which he opens: it contains a helmet, like the ones that astronauts wear, XXL size.

LITTLE

Did you… Did you get hold of the rest of it?

Big nods.

BIG

Are you going to try it on?

Little goes into the bedroom to put on the protective suit.

Pause.

LITTLE

Didn’t you buy it in my size?

BIG

Yes I did.

LITTLE

I’m having trouble getting it on.

BIG

It cost a fortune. Be careful.

LITTLE

But you should have bought a bigger one.

BIG

It has to be skin-tight.

LITTLE

I’m going to have to force it on a bit.

BIG

It’ll rip. A long silence. How are you getting on? Silence. Hey!

A telephone rings.

LITTLE

Hello? Ah. How are you? Thanks… Ah. No, don’t worry about it…

Big comes out, carrying a bin, while Little talks on the phone:

That’s kind of you… Pause. Are you going, after all? When? Pause. Don’t forget to wear your boots. There’s a swamp over there. Pause. Three? Really? Pause. No. I have things to do. Pause. Great. Pause. Who? Ah. Pause. Do you think so? It’s his style I don’t like. The money that drips off his clothes, that shines in his eyes, that floats over his smile… Don’t you think so? Pause. Absolutely.

We hear the front door being opened again.

We’ll see. It’s possible. Maybe… He laughs. Right. He laughs again. Ah yes. He laughs even more. Yes, you too. Take care. He hangs up.

BIG

Who was that?

LITTLE

Virginie.

BIG

Are you ready?

LITTLE

Wait.

Little comes into the living room at last, wearing the protective suit and the helmet.

BIG

It suits you.

Feeling the protective suit:

Wow, it’s really well-made, look at that. It’s a quality product. I never buy anything second-rate, you know that. It’s a really high quality product.

LITTLE

How much did the helmet cost?

BIG

But it’s a gift!

LITTLE

I’m not asking you to tell me the price. Just if it’s expensive.

BIG

Of course! 150 euros.

LITTLE

(surprised) 150? Pause. And you didn’t buy yourself one because of the price?

BIG

Mine is in the bedroom.

LITTLE

Ah.

Big goes into the bedroom and returns with plastic bottles in his hands, wearing a protective suit, gloves and a helmet.

They look at each other for a moment, one facing the other.

They sit down at a table with various bottles in front of them, a notebook and two pressure cookers. Little turns on a desk lamp.

Big moves some of the bottles around, reads the instruction booklet etc.

BIG

Move the lamp. The light is too strong.

Little does as he is told.

Big mixes together various ingredients, stops, has a think, starts again, pours the ingredients into the pressure cooker etc.

LITTLE

I dreamt we’d won the lottery but that we couldn’t believe it. The President of the Republic himself had to come and see us for us to realise it was true. Silence. Will it take much longer? Silence. You have to be careful, of course. They’re flammable products. I saw a video and I can tell you it’s… very, very… sensitive.

BIG

Can you shut up please? Silence. It’s impossible to get this bit into the ring if you’re wearing the gloves.

LITTLE

I never was any good with my hands.

BIG

You’re very good with them when you want to be.

LITTLE

That’s nice of you.

BIG

No, really, you have a real gift for handicraft.

LITTLE

I trust you anyway.

BIG

It’s not about trust.

LITTLE

Yes it is.

BIG

I can’t get the detonator fuse into the ring. Take it. Silence. Nothing will happen to you if you’re wearing the suit.

Little steps back.

Big throws down the detonator.

LITTLE

What’s got into you?

Big picks up some bottles and pours their contents into one of the pressure cookers.

BIG

Give me the TNT.

Little hands over one of the bottles to Big before leafing through the instruction booklet.

Big pours the contents into the pressure cooker.

LITTLE

Subsequently means afterwards. That’s right, isn’t it?

BIG

Green bottle. Then make sure you’re ready with the detonator.

Big picks up the bomb with one hand, while holding a wire in the other.

Can you hold the watch in the meantime?

LITTLE

My hands are full.

BIG

I’m holding the bomb so the ingredients don’t dry out.

LITTLE

I have the detonator here.

BIG

Well, grab hold of the watch with your other hand. I’m the one holding the bomb, not you.

LITTLE

I’m having trouble with the gloves.

Big turns round towards Little.

BIG

The bomb is a bomb.

Little doesn’t do anything.

The watch is a watch.

Little delicately picks up the watch with one hand.

Big holds out the bomb so that Little can put the watch inside it.

Little stops.

Big encourages him to keep going.

The watch is a womb. (Immediately) Watch. The watch is a watch.

Little doesn’t do anything.

The watch is nothing other than a nice little watch.

Little carefully places the watch inside the bomb.

As he is putting the bomb down on the table:

Perfect. Hand me the detonator, please.

LITTLE

Here you are.

Pause.

BIG

I’m going to tape it into the bomb.

He gets onto his knees and tries to slip the ring into the detonator fuse.

I can’t do it from this angle!

LITTLE

Take your gloves off.

BIG

Hold the ring for a second.

LITTLE

No.

BIG

There’s no risk.

LITTLE

My hands are clammy…

BIG

Take the bomb, then. Do as I say!

LITTLE

I said no.

BIG

I’ll do it myself, then.

Big holds the bomb in one hand and tries to slip the ring into the detonator that is taped inside the bomb. Suddenly, the bomb slips out of his hand and falls onto the ground. Little and Big jump back in horror.

4

Big has taken off his helmet and protective suit. The two bombs are in a cardboard box.

They are sitting in a corner of the flat, in silence.

Low light. They talk in low voices.

BIG

Do you remember Torane Fanco, Virginie’s mother?

LITTLE

Torane?

BIG

Yes.

LITTLE

Of course. I remember her.

BIG

What did you think of her? Did you like her?

LITTLE

She was obsessed with money. That’s what I didn’t like about her. Why?

BIG

No reason. What time is it?

LITTLE

Almost 6 pm.

Getting up:

BIG

We have to get rid of it all. It all has to go.

LITTLE

We could resell the rest of the TNT.

BIG

You’re joking?

LITTLE

Yes.

BIG

You’re joking.

LITTLE

Yes.

BIG

Me too.

They laugh softly. They silently pick up all of their belongings, which they place into cardboard boxes.

I’ll try to return the suits and helmets. They’re as good as new.

Little’s mobile phone rings.

LITTLE

Hello, yes? Hello? Pause.

Big gestures to him to stop the conversation because they are running late.

Yes… Absolutely. It’s me… Fred? Is that you? I didn’t recognise your voice. Are you sick?

Big gestures to him to hang up because they really are running very late.

Thank you. Pause. And you? Oh really?

Big gestures to him to hang up because they are running late.

Big’s mobile phone rings. He takes the call.

Big and Little, at the same time:

BIG

Hello? What’s this about? Pause. I don’t understand. Ah yes? The compressor for the fridge. Absolutely. It’s an old Philips. Pause. At least ten years. Ah yes, yes, yes. Ah no, no, no. Ah but yes, but yes, but yes. It has a compressor. I’m certain of that.

LITTLE

An allergy to water? That’s rare. Did the doctor give you some medicine? Pause. Oh really? Just Coke? And where will it go…? Hmm… Have you seen a specialist? Pause. I understand. Yes, yes. Absolutely. I’m very busy at the moment, but we’ll find time to go and drink… a Coke, then. He laughs. Thanks for calling, Fred. Bye. Yes, you too.

Little hangs up.

Big is listening to the person he is speaking to on the phone.

BIG

120 euros for the compressor? Well listen, thanks for your call… Yes… Pause. I can get it second hand? Pause… Oh really?

Little gestures to him that they are running late.

Uh-huh. Always. Ah. That’s nice of you. I beg your pardon? Never. It’s the first time I’ve been complimented on my voice. Ah, but that’s very kind of you… You… Do you know me? No, because… the way you talk… I don’t know… You don’t mince your words, if I may say so…

Little gestures to him that they really are running very late.

Ah. Right. It was just a feeling. We’ve never worked together, then?

Little’s phone rings. He takes the call.

Big and Little, at the same time:

LITTLE

Hello, yes? Yes. Thank you. And you? Pause. Here?

He looks right and left.

Ah no, it isn’t here. The one you always used to wear? The blue one? Pause. When did you lose it? Pause. The same day? Maybe the girl stole it from you? Pause. Do you think? Ah but there are real professional thieves out there, who are more magicians than thieves. Pause. They rob their victims from a distance. From far away.

BIG

It’s happened to me before that I’ve come across women who I’d worked with… Anywhere… On a metro platform… Suddenly… So we haven’t met before? Alright. Well listen, thank you. Pause. You too… Right, goodbye. Goodbye.

Big hangs up.

He gestures to Little to hang up because they really are ridiculously late.

LITTLE

I understand… Uh-huh… Oh really? Hm…

Little listens to the woman he is talking to for a long time while big gestures to him to hang up.

Virgi… Yes, yes. You’re right… Of course… Pause. That’s what I think too… Pause. Virgi… Of course… Virginie… Pause. Virginie… Pause. Virginie! I have to go. Yes. Let’s talk again tomorrow? Pause. Perfect. Thanks. You too. Right, bye.

BIG

Let’s go.

They pick up the equipment and the bombs. Big is about to close the door. He stops suddenly.

Is that my phone? That sound…

LITTLE

There’s no sound. The sound is in your head.

(Music: The Cranberries, “Zombie”)

5

Big and Little are watching the giant screen, which starts to display the following scene, recorded by a camera.

Big and Little are walking down the side of a small road; Big is carrying a box of bombs wedged under his arm.

BIG

They’ve moved.

LITTLE

Are you sure?

BIG

They used to be on this side.

LITTLE

Well, we look like right idiots, lugging these bombs around.

BIG

I went by last month.

LITTLE

Didn’t you scout it out last Saturday?

BIG

Yeah.

LITTLE

Yes.

BIG

Sorry?

LITTLE

Yes. Not yeah.

BIG

Yes.

LITTLE

Where did you go on Saturday?

BIG

I can’t remember.

LITTLE

Big… Have you done something stupid?

BIG

You’ve gone mad! I don’t even know what day you’re talking about.

LITTLE

What?

BIG

Hey! Look. Over there.

We see the beginning of a sign on a warehouse:

TREK

As they walk on, the shot widens and we slowly discover the sign on the warehouse:

TREK-PER

Sports Shoes

They stop.

LITTLE

Under the bush, under the bush. Under the bush, that’s the best place.

BIG

There’s a school on the other side of the road. Pause. What’s it doing there?

LITTLE

Who?

BIG

The school.

LITTLE

Want me to go and ask?

BIG

I’ll take the gear out and you put it into position.

LITTLE

You’re the one who came up with this plan.

Big stares at Little without saying a word.

It’s going to explode.

Silence.

Big takes the bombs out one after the other and places them under the bush.

He steps back, takes a look at his watch.

Then suddenly, a huge explosion.

An internal alarm.

Big carefully goes up to the second bomb. As soon as he hears it whistle, he runs away from it. He throws himself onto the ground when the second explosion happens.

Several alarms go off.

The video stops.

Little goes into the kitchen. Big rewinds to watch the moment when the second bomb starts whistling again.

LITTLE

Would you like a beer? Pause. A beer?

Simultaneously:

A -

BIG

Yes.

Little comes back into the living room. He hands the beer to Big.

LITTLE

Here. Pause. The sky was magnificent.

BIG

What?

LITTLE

Can you switch it off? We’ve just watched it.

Big hesitates, then switches the video off.

It was a nice day. Silence. Yesterday.

BIG

Ah. Yes. An exceptionally nice day, even. The sky was queer.

LITTLE

Queer?

BIG

Clear. What’s got into you? Pause. If it had rained like it has today, that might have explained the whistling, but not here.

LITTLE

Psssssh boom!

BIG

No, no, no.

LITTLE

Pssssssssssh boom!

BIG

No, no.

LITTLE

Pssssssssssssssssh boom!

BIG

No.

Pssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssh boom!

LITTLE

Uh-huh.

BIG

It was much too long.

LITTLE

Why are you switching it back on?

BIG

Does it bother you?

LITTLE

We were having a chat.

BIG

We’re done, aren’t we? Aren’t you hungry?

LITTLE

A bit.

BIG

Shall we have lunch?

LITTLE

There isn’t much.

Little goes into the kitchen. Big switches the video back on.

Spaghetti?

BIG

Croque-monsieur. Do we have any ketchup left?

The doorbell rings. Big immediately switches off the television. They stop talking. We can hear the rain outside. The doorbell rings again. Little peers through the peephole, then opens the door slightly.

BOSCO

Hello.

LITTLE

Hello.

Bosco holds out his hand, but Little doesn’t move.

BOSCO

Bosco. Pause. Can I come in?

LITTLE

No, sir.

BOSCO

I have something to say to you.

LITTLE

Well, you’ll have to leave it till… later.

BOSCO

It’s personal.

BIG

What does he want?

LITTLE

He’s trying to wheedle his way inside. A private matter, supposedly.

BOSCO

Personal.

BIG

Do I have time to listen to beggars? (to Little) I mean, you know me, tell me: do I have time to gossip with tramps? (Screaming) Answer me!

BOSCO

Alright. I’ll talk to you right here. I know about Trek-Per.

Little immediately closes the door.

The doorbell rings again.

Pause.

Little half opens the door.

It’s nice of you to open the door again. It’s best to discuss these things face-to-face.

Big opens the door.

BIG

Come in, come in. Please.

Bosco walks in.

BOSCO

May I sit down?

BIG

Make yourself at home. How are you? Oh. Big puts out his hand. I’m Big.

Pointing at Little:

Little.

Bosco acknowledges Little with a brief jerk of his chin. To Big:

BOSCO

Pleased to meet you.

BIG

Likewise. You’ll have something to drink, won’t you?

BOSCO

With pleasure.

LITTLE

We have water.

BOSCO

That’s perfect.

Little brings him a glass of water. Bosco drinks it in one go.

Vaguely pointing towards the window:

BIG

What depressing weather today. Don’t you think?

BOSCO

Personally, I find it quite enchanting. I was born in Normandy, you see…

LITTLE

Normandy. It’s nice there?

BOSCO

Is that a question?

LITTLE

No, no, no. A statement. Pause. Another glass, perhaps?

BOSCO

No, thank you.

LITTLE

A little one?

BOSCO

Well, alright. Don’t mind if I do.

Little returns with a glass of water. Bosco drinks it affectedly, in small sips, as though it were wine.

It’s the evening of the attack.

BIG

Excuse me?

BOSCO

It’s shortly before the explosions… I’m in my car, a few metres from a school. I’ve just finished a phone conversation. I’m about to drive off again when there’s a huge explosion, followed by another one. I see you run towards your car… I decide to follow you, without knowing why…

LITTLE

That’s a misdemeanour, that is.

BIG

Wait.

LITTLE

It’s a missed enema to follow a stranger.

BIG

That’s enough. (to Bosco) Go on, my friend.

BOSCO

Bosco.

BIG

Bosco, go on, please.

BOSCO

That’s it.

BIG

Right.

Big walks back and forth across the stage, his hands behind his back. He stops, turns towards Bosco.

Does anyone else know about this, Bosco?

Silence.

BOSCO

Yes.

BIG

Yes?

BOSCO

No.

BIG

You said yes.

BOSCO

No. Pause. Nobody.

BIG

Yes or no?

Silence.

BOSCO

No.

BIG

Say “no” again.

BOSCO

No.

BIG

You sound hesitant.

BOSCO

I’m with you. We’re together.

BIG

I’m single.

BOSCO

I’m on your side.

BIG

You’re sitting opposite me.

Getting up:

BOSCO

Let’s stop playing this little game.

LITTLE

(to Big) Isn’t that a threat?

BIG

Of course not.

Big walks up to Bosco slowly, pulls his arm back and throws a punch into thin air. Bosco pretends to defend himself and then to hit him. They pretend to fight for a moment, then Big laughs heartily, clapping Bosco on the shoulder, and Bosco laughs with him.

What do you want, my dear Bosco?

Bosco looks out of the window for a while. Then he turns towards Big and Little:

BOSCO

I’m in the middle of a dispute with a factory… It’s about a piece of land…

BIG

What’s the project?

BOSCO

Boom. Main door. Just like you. Emergency exit too.

LITTLE

You can easily do that with a big hammer. Or an axe.

BOSCO

I want power.

BIG

Who exactly? You and a friend or… you and you?

Little laughs mockingly.

BOSCO

I like the art of ellipsis, but not to the point of being misunderstood. I need five of them and impatience is starting to strain the lines on my face.

LITTLE

What’s he suggesting here?

BIG

Nothing. (to Bosco) Anyway, it’s four for two. Silence. The equation.

BOSCO

Ah.

Silence.

BIG

Four bombs for two doors.

BOSCO

Ah, right.

Someone knocks on the door.

Total silence.

Little moves towards the door.

His mobile phone rings inside.

From the other side of the door:

VIRGINIE

I know you’re there.

Little looks at Big, and eventually opens the door.

Virginie comes in. She is hiding something behind her back.

Hello.

LITTLE

We’re… We’re busy, here…

Virginie looks at Bosco, turns towards Little and reveals the surprise she was hiding: a huge snail measuring around 30 centimetres.

Oh.

BIG

What is it?

VIRGINIE

(to Little) It’s for you. Pause. Take it!

Little hesitates. Virginie hands him the snail.

LITTLE

It’s… magnificent. Thank you very much.

He observes the snail for a moment. Then he gives Virginie a kiss:

I love you very much.

VIRGINIE

I love it very much too.

BIG

(to Little ) Put it on the edge of the stage.

Little puts the enormous snail on the edge of the stage.

(to Virginie) It’s very kind of you, Virginie… Really… You’re just as kind as Torane… Your mother was always very… generous… with everybody… Did she tell you about me, from time to time? Huh? What did she tell you about me?

VIRGINIE

Not much… Just sometimes… when you owed her money… She would mainly talk to the girls about you.

BIG

Where did you buy such a cute snail?

VIRGINIE

I found it near a swamp, yesterday – it’s their natural habitat.

BIG

Yesterday! That’s funny, that is. You went to Habitat yesterday, I went to Habitat yesterday. Do you hear that, Little? Maybe we even almost bumped into each other.

He takes her by the shoulders.

Well, anyway, it’s very… kind of you to have thought of Little.

VIRGINIE

It goes without saying.

He taps Virginie on the shoulder.

BIG

So… we have a guest right now… And it’s starting to get late…

Virginie nods hello to Bosco.

VIRGINIE

Virginie.

BOSCO

Pleased to meet you. Bosco.

VIRGINIE

Are you from around here?

BOSCO

From Normandy.

VIRGINIE

Really! Me too! They shake hands enthusiastically. Which town?

BIG

(to Virginie) Right…

BOSCO

Caen.

VIRGINIE

Oh, but that’s where I’m from too! Which part of town do you come from?

BIG

(to Virginie) I think it’s time for dinner. You have to go home.

Virginie looks at Bosco.

Virginie!

LITTLE

Can’t you see she wants to stay?

Bosco glances at his watch.

BOSCO

Right… Can you make me those… babies? Of course, I’ll pay you.

VIRGINIE

No need. Ha ha ha.

BIG

What’s the woman talking about? What’s the matter with her?

LITTLE

Please. (to Bosco) Money isn’t an issue. All you’d need to do is pay us back for the… the equipment… for the outing… on the lake…

BIG

There’ll be rowing boats.

BOSCO

I love rowing!

BIG

It’s very good for you.

VIRGINIE

Terrible for your mental health.

BIG

(to Virginie) Do you mind? (to Bosco) You can come a week Thursday. Not before 9 am.

Shaking Big’s and Little’s hands:

BOSCO

Thank you.

He nods goodbye to Virginie, then leaves.

Big goes into the kitchen and opens the fridge.

BIG

Are we out of beer?

LITTLE

Take a good look.

BIG

We’re out, I tell you.

LITTLE

No we’re not.

BIG

Where is it?

LITTLE

In the supermarket.

Virginie giggles.

BIG

It was your turn to buy some.

Big comes back into the living room.

LITTLE

I went the day before yesterday.

BIG

Nitwit.

LITTLE

What?

Little bursts into laughter.

Big moves towards him. A moment of tension.

VIRGINIE

I’ll go and buy some.

BIG

Don’t bother.

Big puts on his Adidas jacket and his shoes, and goes out.

VIRGINIE

Who was that?

LITTLE

Sorry?

VIRGINIE

Bosco.

LITTLE

Ah. Pause. A friend.

Virginie goes up to the window.

VIRGINIE

Doesn’t he have a wife?

LITTLE

Don’t close the window.

As she closes the window:

VIRGINIE

The sound of the rain is doing my head in. Pause. Doesn’t he have a wife?

LITTLE

No. Why?

VIRGINIE

Does he live alone?

LITTLE

I think so. Do you like him?

Little goes up to the window and rubs a corner of it clean with his cuff.

VIRGINIE

No. He came to buy some babies?

LITTLE

I think so. I need to go and get my creams.

VIRGINIE

Are you going to find some for him?

LITTLE

We’re going to try. It’s stuffy in here. I’m just going to open the window again for a bit.

VIRGINIE

How much is he going to pay for the babies?

LITTLE

It was an idea… about the maternity ward.

VIRGINIE

Which maternity ward? The one in the 10th? The new one?

LITTLE

Yes.

VIRGINIE

They’ve done a really good job renovating it.

LITTLE

I think so too. Particularly the façade, don’t you think?

VIRGINIE

The view must be splendid now they’ve cut down all the oak trees.

LITTLE

The city council took care of that, didn’t they?

VIRGINIE

Skilful workers, architects who were up to the job, an ambitious mayor… And there you have the result: a little gem of a maternity ward.

LITTLE

Rumour has it it’s the Republic of Kawiristan that financed the works. Do you know what time it is?

VIRGINIE

8 pm. Already? I have to go.

Virginie gets up, kisses Little on both cheeks, goes over to the door, stops.

She wants to say something, but decides not to and leaves.

6

Big stands in front of the open door with Chinaman.

BIG

Please come in.

CHINAMAN

No, no.

BIG

Oh please, come in! After you.

CHINAMAN

No.

BIG

Go on!

Pause.

They both go in at the same time, not without some difficulty.

Did everything go well?

CHINAMAN

What?

His mobile phone rings. He takes the call, gesturing to Big to be quiet. He starts talking quietly in Chinese, then gets angry, still talking in Chinese, then starts to laugh.

Oh! Alright. Alright. Hee hee hee.

He hangs up.

BIG

Please make yourself comfortable.

Chinaman sits down, still holding his mobile phone.

Would you like a drink?

Chinaman dials a phone number. He is holding the phone against his ear.

(Making a “drinking” gesture) A… drink?

CHINAMAN

Oh! Me call.

Silence.

It seems like no-one has answered the call, since Chinaman ends up hanging up.

What?

Big puts a glass of water down in front of Chinaman.

BIG

Is everything alright? (Friendly) Do you like France?

CHINAMAN

Like what?

BIG

France.

CHINAMAN

What, France?

BIG

Nothing. Are things going well? Work? Money, good? Happy?

CHINAMAN

All good.

BIG

Good. Right. Tell me… I would need your services…

CHINAMAN

Yes.

BIG

Some TNT…

CHINAMAN

How much?

BIG

300g. 600 of nitric acid, 900 of potassium sulphate. And smaller amounts of these ingredients.

He hands him a sheet of paper.

CHINAMAN

ID, please.

BIG

Excuse me?

CHINAMAN

ID. If you please.

BIG

I don’t have it on me.

CHINAMAN

Your flat, here?

BIG

Yes.

CHINAMAN

But not passport?

BIG

No. I came round to your shop a while back.

CHINAMAN

You French?

BIG

Yes.

CHINAMAN

You understand French?

BIG

Yes.

CHINAMAN

ID, please. Silence. Why you want TNT, acid, sulphate?

BIG

For a building site.

CHINAMAN

Bidding site?

BIG

Building site. Construction.

CHINAMAN

(laughs) No, no. Not building site, here. You shadow in eyes. TNT, OK. Potassium sulphate, me not. Nitric acid, me not.

Showing the sheet of paper:

Rest, me not. You ask somewhere else. Silence. Authorisation administrative onfoice, you have?

BIG

No, no. No invoice. Off the books. Cash.

CHINAMAN

On-ffice. Authorisation administrative on-ffice.

BIG

Office. No, no. No authorisation.

CHINAMAN

Me not nitrate. Not sulphate. Not TNT.

BIG

I need it!

CHINAMAN

Oh. You me attacked!

BIG

Shut it, will you.

CHINAMAN

Attacker, here!

Chinaman dials a phone number.

BIG

Who are you calling?

Big comes up to Chinaman, almost pressing up against him.

(Gently) Hang up, please.