Hag-Seed

  "Looking good," says Felix to 8Handz.

  "Yeah, you chose fabulous wings."

  A voice begins to sing, somewhat offtune:

  You are three men of sin

  Where'm I gonna begin?

  You've been so bad

  It makes me sad,

  As a result, you're going mad!

  Felix was ruined by you,

  Exiled into the blue;

  Sal's lost his son,

  That's no fun,

  And your woes have just begun!

  You must repent and say you're sorry

  If you want a good end to this story:

  This...means...you!

  "Where did it go?" says Tony. "That thing with wings! That demon! It's over there!"

  "What have I done?" says Sal. He begins to weep. "I might as well die! You heard that! They've killed Freddie and it's all my fault! Because of what we did to Felix!"

  "This is awful," says Sebert. "We've been poisoned! Where's my body? I'm vaporizing!"

  "What's gotten into you all?" says Lonnie.

  --

  "Fairly terrible poem, but it did the trick," says Felix. "That, plus the grapes."

  "Wow, awesome," says 8Handz. "They are like totally freaked! Gotta find out what else went into that mix!"

  "We'll leave them to their bad trip and look in on Ferdinand and Miranda," says Felix. "Pull up their video feed recording. What've they been up to?"

  "Let me rewind," says 8Handz. "Okay, so they made a log pile out of the Lego, as per your directions. Then they said those mushy speeches to each other. Now they're playing chess. She's saying--"

  "Good," says Felix. "They're right on script. They look very handsome together."

  "It's almost like they meant it," says 8Handz. "The true love and all that. It's kind of elegant. Though not a very clear image," he adds.

  "Clear enough," says Felix. "Let's go back to the Green Room."

  In the Green Room, things are not peaceful.

  Sal is curled up in a corner of the room, clutching his knees. Tears are running down his cheeks; he's a diagram of woe. He seems to be having an interactive experience with the floor. "It's dark, it's all dark down there," he's saying. "Why's it so dark? I need to go there, where it's all dark, I need to find him!"

  Tony's batting at the air. "Back! Back!" he's shouting. "Stay away from me!"

  Sebert appears to believe he's covered with insects, or some other form of many-legged life. "Get them off me!" he's babbling. "Spiders!"

  Sensible Lonnie has barricaded himself behind the table and is keeping out of their way.

  --

  "You sure you maybe didn't overdo it?" says 8Handz. "With the grapes? This is, like, over the top."

  "I followed the instructions," says Felix. He wanted anguish, and he's got it. But should drug-induced anguish really count? And what are the side effects, and how long do they last? "How many minutes left to go on our official video?" he says. "The one playing in the cells, and for the Warden's party?"

  8Handz consults the time. "Should be about two-thirds through," he says.

  "We need to speed this thing along," says Felix. "Cue Stephano and Trinculo."

  "They're ready and waiting," says 8Handz.

  The Green Room door opens, and in prance Red Coyote and TimEEz, in full costume. Their faces are painted white, with clown mouths. Coyote's wearing his frowzy Oxfam dinner jacket, TimEEz is in the set of red flannel long johns, the bowler tilted at a jaunty angle.

  "Not what I'd want to see when I'm whacked," says 8Handz. "Personally."

  "The dignitaries don't like it either," says Felix. Indeed, Sal, Tony, and Sebert are backing up to the walls and staring in alarm.

  "Ohh look," says TimEEz, pointing at them. "Monstrous! Monstrous! Ew, and what a fishy smell!"

  "Fishy monsters," says Red Coyote. "I smell...corruption!"

  "We could put them on show," says TimEEz. "Gibbering lunatics. Street people. Addicts. Dregs of society. Always good for a laugh."

  "People would pay good money to see this," says Red Coyote. " 'Minister of Justice in Drug-Fueled Meltdown.' Great headline!"

  "Cue the Hag-Seed dancers," says Felix.

  "Here we go," says 8Handz.

  After a moment's pause, Caliban enters with his two backups, in matching Godzilla mashup headgear. They've written a new number especially for this occasion. 8Handz hits the button for the accompaniment, and the beat floods the room. Caliban begins to chant:

  You been callin' me a monster.

  But who's more monstrous than you?

  You stole, you cheated, you bribed, you lied, You didn't care who you kicked aside,

  You called me dirty, you called me a scum, You called me a criminal, a no-good bum,

  But you're a white-collar crook, you been cookin' the books, Rakin' taxpayer money, we know what you took, So who's more monstrous

  Who's more monstrous,

  Who's more monstrous than you?

  Monster, monster, gonna put you on show,

  Monster, monster, from your head to your toe, Monster, monster, so the world's gonna know Just what a monster you are!

  We know what you took! White-collar crook!

  White-collar crook! We KNOW what you took!

  "Demons!" shrieks Tony.

  "I'm a monster!" Sal wails. He hides his face in his hands.

  "What do they know?" says Sebert, looking wildly around. "Who told them? It was a legitimate expense!"

  "Gentlemen, gentlemen!" pleads Lonnie from behind the table. "Get ahold of yourselves!"

  --

  "I know they're assholes and they're trying to snuff our Players, but this is too sick even for me," says 8Handz. "It's beyond a bad trip, they're scared shitless."

  "It's part of the plan. Anyway, they had it coming," says Felix.

  "Don't you feel sorry for them?" says 8Handz.

  All this time Miranda has been hovering behind him--a shadow, a wavering of the light--though she's been silent: there haven't been any lines she's needed to prompt. But now she whispers, I would, sir, were I human. She's such a tender-hearted girl.

  Has 8Handz heard her? No, but Felix has. "Hast thou," he says, "which art but air, a touch, a feeling of their afflictions, and shall not myself be kindlier moved than thou art?"

  "Are we back in the play?" says 8Handz. "Am I supposed to say, 'I would, sir, were I human'?"

  "No, it's fine," says Felix. "Just muttering. But you're right, that's enough vengeance. Not a frown further. Time to reel them in. Cue the Goblins."

  I'll fetch them, sir, Miranda whispers. Do you love me, Master?

  In the midst of a phalanx of black-clad Goblins the captives are escorted down the hall to the main room, which is dimly lit with blue-toned floods. They've settled down somewhat: there is no more audible weeping, no yelps, shouts, or moaning. Whatever was in the grapes must be wearing off.

  The rest of the cast is already assembled, except for Anne-Marie, still sequestered with Freddie in their cell, and 8Handz, who's at the computer behind the folding screen. Felix is there too, waiting for his entrance.

  Once the four dignitaries have been courteously seated in the front row, surrounded by Goblins in case they lose control and try to run, 8Handz plays a drum roll and a trumpet call, kills the lights, activates a golden spotlight, and, ta-da!

  Felix steps out from behind the folding screen with a flourish of his stuffed-animal magic garment. Raising his fox-head cane into the air, he cues more elemental music. For this 8Handz has chosen "Somewhere Over the Rainbow," played in slow chords, a minor key, and featuring two bass saxophones and a cello.

  "A solemn air, and the best comforter to an unsettled fancy, cure thy brains, now useless, boiled within thy skull," he says portentously. The lights come fully up. "Thank you for your kind offices, Lonnie--you at least treated me with some decency in the past, unlike Sal, and especially unlike Tony here."

  All four of them stare at him as if he's mad, or as if they
are. "Felix Phillips?" says Sal. "Am I dreaming? Where did you come from?"

  "The same," says Felix. "Though my name is Mr. Duke, in here."

  "You vanished so completely I thought you must've died," says Lonnie.

  "What's going on?," says Sal. "What have you done with Freddie? Are you real?"

  "A good question," says Felix. "Maybe I'm an enchanted vision generated by this magic island. You'll sort it out in time. Welcome, my friends all!"

  Tony is not pleased. "You did this," he says. His voice is still thick with fading chemicals. "Up to your tricks, grandstanding as usual. I always thought you were paranoid! You can kiss your precious Literacy Through Literature program goodbye." He pauses, making an effort to grasp his habitual manner. "You drugged those grapes, I suppose. That's illegal."

  "If Freddie's been hurt," Sal says, "you'll pay big-time, I'll charge you with--"

  "I think not," says Felix. "Sal, you're the Justice Minister, so I want some justice. First, I demand my old job back, at the Makeshiweg Festival. I was wrongfully dismissed so that Tony could take my place. It was an underhanded plot cooked up by the two of you, as you well know."

  "You're crazy," says Tony.

  "That's beside the point," says Felix. "Anyway, the experience you've just undergone is called 'artistic immersion.' What you'll tell the world, Sal, is that the Fletcher Correctional Players presented a very creative piece of interactive theatre, and that, having tasted its benefits--not to mention its grapes--you fully grasp its educational potential and will in future back it to the hilt. Tony, as Heritage Minister, will announce a guarantee of five more years of funding--enhanced funding, I must emphasize. After that, Tony will resign. He can say he wants to spend more time with his family. As for Sebert, he will back out of the leadership race."

  "This is insane! What makes you think--" says Tony.

  "I've got it all on video," says Felix. "All of it. Sal mewing and boo-hooing in the corner, obviously stoned out of his mind; Sebert's dissolving-body speeches; you, Tony, yelling at invisible demons, buzzed to the gills. None of you would want any of this to go viral on the Internet, as it will should you fail to make full amends and act as required."

  "That's not fair," says Tony.

  "Let's call it balancing the scales," says Felix. He lowers his voice, addresses Tony directly. "And by the way, I've recorded that fascinating conversation you had with Sebert when Sal and Lonnie were asleep. It tells us a lot about loyalty."

  "I'll have this place searched, they'll find the footage, they'll destroy--" Tony begins.

  "Save your energy," says Felix. "The video's already stored in the cloud." This is a bluff--it's on a memory stick in his pocket until he gets the chance to upload it--but his tone is convincing, and Tony wilts. "So we don't have a choice," he says.

  "That would be my read on it," says Felix. "Sebert?"

  "It's enticement," says Sebert. "You set us up."

  "I gave you time and space, and you made your own use of it," says Felix. He turns back to Sal. "In addition, I'll want an early parole for my special-effects technician. That said, under these conditions I pardon all of you, and we'll let bygones be bygones."

  There's a pause. "Done," says Sal, the chief beneficiary of this arrangement. Tony and Sebert say nothing, but if looks could kill, thinks Felix, he himself would be dead ten times over.

  "Good," he says, "I'm glad you all agree; and incidentally I've got that bargain we just made on video as well, as a further precaution."

  "So the riot, the lockdown--" says Lonnie. "Were they--They weren't...Was it theatre?"

  "And where's Freddie?" says Sal. "Is he really dead? I heard him scream. I heard the shot!"

  "I sympathize," says Felix. "I lost my own daughter, in this late tempest. It's irreparable."

  "But," says Lonnie, "that was at least twelve years..."

  "Come with me," Felix says to Sal. Sal stands, and Felix links their arms. "I want to show you something."

  --

  "Here they come," Anne-Marie whispers. "It's Felix and your dad. Act surprised." She and Freddie are sitting on the floor of the cell, cross-legged, the chessboard between them. "In one second they'll be peering through the window. Got the lines?"

  "All set," Freddie whispers back.

  "Sweet lord, you play me false," says Anne-Marie at her most winsome.

  "No, my dearest love, I would not for the world," says Freddie.

  The door to the cell bursts open. "Freddie!" yells Sal. "You're alive!"

  "Dad!" Freddie reciprocates. "You're alive too!"

  "Thank God!" They fall into each other's arms.

  The Bard provided more eloquence at this moment, thinks Felix, but they've covered the main points.

  Once the exclamations of joy and the hugs and back-patting are done, Freddie says, "Dad, I'd like you to meet my new partner, Anne-Marie Greenland. She was with Kidd Pivot, and she just played Miranda."

  Anne-Marie has scrambled to her feet; her dress has slipped quite far down her shoulder, the paper flowers are askew. She grins impishly, sticks out her hand to be shaken. Sal does not reciprocate. He narrows his eyes at her. "Business or romantic?" he asks.

  "Both," says Freddie. "At least, I mean--"

  "Hang on a minute," says Anne-Marie. "We haven't really talked! I need to think about this!"

  "Dinner tonight?" says Freddie.

  "I guess," says Anne-Marie. She hitches up her sleeve. She's even blushing.

  Felix turns to Sal. "True romance," he says. "You can't fight it. Anyway, it's the best outcome."

  --

  Having taken their leave of the cast, the dignitaries are being escorted back through the hallway and out through the fail-safe doors to the reception area. Miraculously, their security pagers have reappeared on their belts.

  They're due to share a drink with the Warden and some others at the high end of the hierarchy at a special reception, with photo ops scripted in. There will be wieners on toothpicks, less toxic than the grapes; there will be cream cheese on crackers; there will be an alcoholic drink or two. Estelle will be there, listening to everything. She'll tell Felix later how it went.

  Will there be any talk of how thoroughly they were all fooled? There will not, thinks Felix. Nothing about the so-called riot or the so-called lockdown. Nothing about the strange hallucinations. Nothing about the backstory of Mr. Duke. Nothing, in a word, discreditable to the visitors.

  Instead the Warden will be complimented on the high standards of excellence achieved by the Fletcher Correctional Players. He will be assured that an announcement will be forthcoming, affirming the continuation of the program and an increase in funding. There will be handshakes and toasts. There will be congratulations all round.

  Sal won't have any problem with lying: he's a practiced politician. As for Tony and Sebert, they'll keep their lips zipped; that way, at least, they'll be allowed to maintain their reputations, unsullied by any viral videos, and will thus have some hope of seats on various corporate boards once they retire from politics. Maybe they'll even be hoisted into the Senate, one of these days. For services rendered.

  Freddie and Anne-Marie have gone to the Warden's reception, but not before Anne-Marie has planted a kiss on Felix's bearded cheek. "You're the best," she says. "I wish you really were my dad. It would be an improvement."

  "You did brilliantly," he tells her.

  "Thanks," she says, "but Freddie helped. He understood it almost right away, he really got into it." She's glowing.

  Young love, thinks Felix wistfully. So good for the complexion.

  --

  Felix stays behind to help 8Handz roll up the tech. The tiny mics have to be gathered, the speakers taken down; the special lights have to be dismounted. All of it has to be packed up, after which it will be returned to the rental agency.

  Felix busies himself with the sorting, while 8Handz checks the quality of the last audio-visual he recorded--the scene in the main room, with Sal's acceptance of the condition
s. That might prove crucial at some future time, because you never know.

  "I think I'm picking up a radio station or something," says 8Handz. "Through my headphones. There's, like, singing."

  "What kind of singing?" Felix asks.

  "It's faint, but...wait. Okay. It's 'Merrily, merrily.' "

  " 'Merrily, merrily, will I live now, Under the blossom that hangs on the bough'? " says Felix. It must be Miranda, prompting again. Clever girl, she's infiltrated Ariel's headphones! But she seems to be confused about the script. "We already did that part, it's in the video," he says for her benefit. They'd used the original Ariel song after all, with only a little change to get rid of the sucking. Where the bees buzz, there buzz I.

  "No," says 8Handz. " 'It's not that. It's 'Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, Life is but a dream.' "

  A chill shoots through Felix. The hair on his neck bristles. "I used to sing that to her," he whispers to himself. "When she was three." Does she remember after all? Does she remember being three? Does she remember not ever being four? If so, then...

  "What a coincidence," says Felix. "I was thinking of putting it in the backstory, but I didn't." He's making this up. "Maybe as a song Prospero sings to little Miranda when they're in the leaky boat. That's what you do when kids are frightened, you sing to them."

  That's what you do while you hold their feverish hands and stroke their foreheads in the hospital room, but despite everything they slip gently away from you, into the dark backward and abysm of time.

  "I know that song. It would've been nice," says 8Handz. "And seriously, thanks for getting me the early parole. That was genius."

  "Happy to help," says Felix. "I couldn't have worked this whole thing without you. Is that music still coming in?"

  8Handz listens. "Nope, it's gone."

  "Can I try your headphones?"

  8Handz transfers the phones. Felix listens, listens. Nothing there now, no singing. Only silence. Where is his Miranda? What is she trying to convey?

  --

  Outside, it's dusk. Felix trudges toward his car. The expected blizzard has already swept through, though it can't have been major: small drifts of white snow ripple the tarmac.

  He drives down the hill in silence. If this were a real first night the cast and crew would all go out, eat somewhere, encourage one another while waiting for the reviews. As it is Felix will have an egg for supper; by himself, unless his Miranda decides to join him. She must be in the car somewhere, though there's no sign of her.