The Cruelty of Decisions

Set

Plain room with a table, two chairs, and stacks of paper on the table.

Characters

DOROTHEA: Woman looking to be in her 70s; Wearing a three-piece business suit and glasses.

ODESSIA: Woman looking to be in her 40s; more casual than Dorothea. Wearing a button-down shirt and jeans.

Production requirements:

            A table

            Two chairs

            Papers

Synopsis: Two fate-like entities work to decide how and when humans will die, but argue over the cruelty of their profession.

ODESSIA

Dead at age ten?

DOROTHEA

Slipped off the ladder while helping his dad.

ODESSIA

That’s just cruel. The dad will descend into alcoholism while the guilt eats away at him. And then he’ll kill a grandad of 11 who’s just trying to cross the street.

DOROTHEA

That’s how it goes. People die, and the cycle continues.

ODESSIA

I’ve been at this almost as long as you, but does it have to be done with cruelty?

            (DOROTHEA sighs, takes her glasses off, and sets them on the table.)

DOROTHEA

Ok, fine. But we have to reach our quota. He still has to die at age ten. So, maybe… He gets hit crossing the street?

ODESSIA

Then the driver who hit him would descend into alcoholism.

            (DOROTHEA throws her arms up in the air in exasperation.)

DOROTHEA

Well I’m going to descend into alcoholism if you don’t let us do our job.

ODESSIA

Well if our job is simply a practice in cruelty then I don’t want to do it anymore.

(ODESSIA closes her eyes and rubs at her forehead.)

DOROTHEA

We have to. You have no idea what you’re saying. If we don’t decide their fates, then the world will descend into chaos. Tell me, Odessia. Is that lacking in cruelty? Letting them descend into madness is better than the way things are now?

            (ODESSIA’s anger is clear.)

ODESSIA

So either way, death is our only option? I refuse to believe that. I can’t believe that.

DOROTHEA

Your childish insistence is becoming tiresome. Why is this boy any different from the infinite humans that came before?

ODESSIA

Because suddenly it’s one heartless death too many. One too many grieving family member. It’s enough. We’ve done enough damage.

DOROTHEA

Fine, fine. We’ll give the boy a severe allergic reaction to bee stings. Then it’s the bees’ fault.

            (ODESSIA slumps down in her chair, showing her defeat.)

ODESSIA

I suppose it’s the best decision in a slew of horrible decisions.

DOROTHEA

Alright then, Timothy Berkin. Bees it is.

            (DOROTHEA scribbles something on the paper in front of her before moving it to the           top of the stack of papers next to her.)

ODESSIA

And now Timothy Berkin is dead – just like that – before he could really begin.

DOROTHEA

For God’s sake! You didn’t know him. He’s just a name on a paper. A scrap. One paper in a never-ending line.

ODESSIA

When did it stop for you? When did you stop feeling the pain you were causing? Because I haven’t found a way yet. How did you turn off the humanity, because I’d sure as hell like to know.

            (DOROTHEA suddenly goes still and bows her head toward the table in front of her. She   begins speaking very softly.)

DOROTHEA

It was an infant. Only a day old. We needed to reach the quota for the day. That was before you arrived. But we got that urgent feeling. The feeling where you just know you’re falling behind. So I signed that baby’s life away like it was nothing. We gave that baby a defective heart and a few days later, Emory – the one you replaced when you came – wrote that baby’s mother’s story. She slit her wrists the day she was released from the hospital. I just suddenly knew that I had to turn off the pity and the guilt – the ceaseless guilt. So just like that I flipped a switch.

            (ODESSIA stares at DOROTHEA’s downturned face.)

ODESSIA

Dorothea, I don’t know what to say.

            (DOROTHEA looks up at ODESSIA.)

DOROTHEA

Listen, if you want to survive – if you don’t want to go mad like old Emery did – you’ll take a piece of advice. Find a way to stop caring. It’s the only way to make the decisions that need to be made.

            (ODESSIA shakes her head sadly.)

ODESSIA

But why do we have to make the decisions?

DOROTHEA

You know I can’t answer that question. This – this room is all I remember.

            (DOROTHEA sweeps her arm out at the room around them.)

DOROTHEA

When one of us goes wrong in the head, that one just disappears, and a new one takes their place. The cycle continues as it must I suppose.

ODESSIA

We’re dispensable then. We just decided in a split second not to give a boy the chance to live.

DOROTHEA

But that’s the job, isn’t it? We decide who lives and who dies. We decide what happens.

ODESSIA

I just get tired of ending it with the flick of a pen. They don’t even get the chance to change it. They don’t get a say. The humans move about thinking they’re working for something, but they’re running a race with a predetermined end and they haven’t even realized there’s no winner. The luckiest they get is living a few more years than the last one.

DOROTHEA

And we’re just doing the job not even a fool would choose. There are no choices. I can’t talk about this anymore. It’s a pointless conversation.

            (DOROTHEA begins shuffling through papers on the table. ODESSIA puts her head in     her hands.)

ODESSIA

If I believe this is neverending, I won’t last much longer. I’ll go out like old Emory did.

DOROTHEA

Would you rather I lied to you then?

ODESSIA

Yes.

            (DOROTHEA nods.)

DOROTHEA

Alright, then. Maybe one day someone will change it. Maybe one day, they’ll get a say and the next Timothy Berkin will manage to cling onto that ladder or get to the hospital before he can’t breathe.

            (ODESSIA lifts her head with a small smile on her face.)

ODESSIA

And maybe that baby won’t die and that mother will live another fifty years and meet her grandkids’ kids.

DOROTHEA

You take a break. I’ll make sure we reach the quota for the day.

            (ODESSIA puts her hand on DOROTHEA’s shoulder.)

ODESSIA

Thank you, Dorothea.

            (ODESSIA lays her head down on the table and closes her eyes. DOROTHEA looks over           at ODESSIA and sighs.)

DOROTHEA

I hope that one day comes. I really do. But until then…

(DOROTHEA picks up a piece of paper. She looks down at the paper and begins talking   softer than before.)

DOROTHEA

Ok, Rosemary Clifton. You’ll die at age 73. How about a plane crash? It’ll help reach the quota faster and take care of the next 200 in line.

            (DOROTHEA looks over at the stack of papers next to her and pats the stack.)

DOROTHEA

Alright, Rosemary Clifton and the next 200 to follow – Plane crash.

            (DOROTHEA picks up a pen and signs the paper in front of her with a flick of her wrist.)