A Play for Everyone and Nobody

Requiem Aeternam Deo

by Fulya Peker

Page II

LIST OF CHARACTERS

ZARATHUSTRA

MADMAN

STILLEST HOUR—LIFE—SOLITUDE

ROPE DANCER—CHILD—ADDER

JESTER

KING

LAST POPE

BEGGAR

MAN BITTEN BY LEACH

UGLIEST MAN

SHADOW

CROWD—DISCIPLES

VOICE

I. PROLOGUE

[The center of the stage is covered with a large piece of elastic matte black fabric.

Stage right and left are tall dry branches.

Utter darkness.

Music commences: a blend of religious music (Christian, Jewish, Islamic, etc.) plays for one minute.

Suddenly, the music stops.

A deep sorrowful scream is heard from afar.]

MADMAN

GOD!!!! GOD!! GOD!

[A sudden light comes from behind the audience and the Madman enters with a lantern in his hand.
His face is infused with terror.
He approaches the audience in a panic and stares into their eyes.]

MADMAN

I seek God! I seek God!

Has he got lost!
Did he lose his way like a child!
Or is he hiding!
Is he afraid of us!
Has he gone on a voyage!
Emigrated!

Where is God? I will tell you! We have killed him! You and I! All of us are his murderers! But how did we do this? How could we drink up the sea? Who gave us the sponge to wipe away the entire horizon? What were we doing when we unchained this earth from its sun? Where is it moving now? Where are we moving? Away from all suns? Are we not plunging continually? Backward, sideward, forward and in all directions? Is there still any up or down? Are we not straying as through an infinite nothing? Do we not feel the breath of empty space? Has it not become colder? Is not night continually closing in on us? Do we not need to light lanterns in the morning? Do we hear nothing as yet of the noise of the grave diggers who are burying God? God too has his Hell; it is his love for human beings. Do we smell nothing as yet of the divine decomposition? Gods, too, decompose. God is dead. And we have killed him! It is of his pity for human beings that God has died.

How shall we comfort ourselves, the murderers of all murderers? What was holiest and mightiest of all that the world has yet owned has bled to death under our knives: who will wipe this blood off us? What water is there for us to clean ourselves? What sacred festivals shall we have to invent? Is not the greatness of this deed too great for us? Must we ourselves not become gods, simply to appear worthy of it? There has never been a greater deed; and whoever is born after us—for the sake of this deed he will belong to a higher history than all history hitherto.

I have come too early, my time is not yet! This tremendous event is still on its way, still wandering; it has not yet reached the ears of man. Lightning and thunder require time; the light of the stars requires time; deeds, though done, still require time to be seen and heard. This deed is still more distant from them than the most distant stars—and yet they have done it themselves.

[The Madman sits amongst the audience, then throws his lantern towards the stage.

Immediate blackout.

The sound of glass shattering.]

II. ANNOUNCEMENT

[The sun slowly rises.

A man, with his back to the audience, sits in the middle of the stage; slowly, he raises his hands as if in a gesture of worship and looks towards the sun.

It is “Zarathustra.”]

ZARATHUSTRA

Greetings great star! What would your happiness be, were it not for those whom you illumine! I am overburdened with my wisdom. Like the bee that has gathered too much honey, I need hands outstretched to receive it. For that I must descend into the depths: just as you do in the evening when you go down behind the sea and still bring light to the underworld, you over rich star! I must like you go under, as human beings call it, to whom I would go down. This is morning, my day is beginning: Rise up now, rise up. Behold! Zarathustra wants to become human again.

[Black out.
Scream of a bird.]

VOICE

What is heavy? What is heaviest? I may take it upon me! And become well pleased with my strength! I can lower myself in order to hurt my haughtiness! I can let my folly shine forth in order to mock my wisdom! I can kneel down like a camel so that I would be well laden into the desert!

[Lights on.

Zarathustra is sitting in the middle of the stage staring into the darkness. He is surrounded by Crowd Members.]

CROWD MEMBERS

[Directly to audience.]

Pity is needed!
Lust is a sin!

Thou shalt kill thyself!
Thou shalt steal thyself away!

Please take what I have!
Please take what I am! Life will then bind me that much less.

Life is hard to bear!
Life is refuted!

What is good?
Life is only suffering!

[Zarathustra rises impatiently.]

ZARATHUSTRA

I teach you the Overhuman. The human is something that shall be overcome. What have you done to overcome it?

Behold, I teach you the Overhuman! The Overhuman is the sense of the earth. I beseech you my brothers, stay true to the earth and do not believe those who talk of over-earthly hopes!

Behold, I teach you the Overhuman. What is the greatest you can experience? It is the hour in which even happiness disgusts you and likewise your reason and your virtue. The hour when you say: What good is my reason! What good is my virtue! How tired I am of my good and my evil! Have you ever spoken thus? Have you ever cried thus? Where is the lightning to lick you with its tongue? Where is the madness with which you must be inoculated?

Behold, I teach you the Overhuman, it is this lightning, it is this madness!

CROWD 1

We’ve heard enough about the rope-dancer: now let us see him too!

CROWD 2

Let us see him too!

[The Rope Dancer walks across a tightrope above the audience and toward the stage. A Jester follows close behind.]

ZARATHUSTRA

The human is a rope fastened between beast and Overhuman—a rope over an abyss. A dangerous across, a dangerous on-the-way, a dangerous looking back, a dangerous shuddering and standing still. What is great in the human is that it is a bridge and not a goal: what can be loved in the human is that it is a going-over and going-under. I love those who do not know how to live except by going under, because they are those who go over and across. I love him who chastens his God because he loves his God. I love all those who are as heavy drops, falling singly from the dark clouds that hang over the human: they herald the coming of the lightning, and as heralds they also perish.

JESTER

On you go lame-foot. On you go, you lazy beast, smuggler, paleface! Else I shall tickle you with my heel! What are you doing here between towers? You belong in the tower, and should be locked up; you are blocking the way for one who is better than you!

[The Rope Dancer reaches the stage; falls with a scream.

The Crowd collapses simultaneously.

Zarathustra carries the corpse and buries it under the fabric.]

JESTER

Go away from this town, Zarathustra. Too many people here hate you. You are hated by the good and the righteous and they call you their enemy and despiser; you are hated by the believers of right belief, and they call you a danger to the multitude. It was lucky for you that they laughed at you: and you were talking just like a jester. It was lucky for you that you made company with the dead dog; by abasing yourself like that, you saved your own skin. But now go forth from this town—or tomorrow I shall jump over you, a living man over a dead one.

[Zarathustra remains on stage alone.

The Madman, from his earlier position amongst the audience, addresses the person next to him.]

MADMAN

Zarathustra has become a gravedigger! For my own hands are too clean for this particular roast. Does Zarathustra want to rob the devil of his mouthful? On you go then! And good luck with your meal! If only devil were not a better thief than Zarathustra! He will steal them both, he will eat them both.

ZARATHUSTRA

Could it be possible! These people here in this town had as yet heard nothing of this yet, that God is dead!

[Black out.
Scream of a bird.]

III. OVERCOMING SHAME

[Zarathustra is alone in his cave.

Behind him the Stillest Hour rises under the fabric as if a spirit.]

STILLEST HOUR

You know it Zarathustra?

You know it Zarathustra but you do not say it!

ZARATHUSTRA

Yes I know it, but I will not say it!

STILLEST HOUR

You will not Zarathustra? Can this be true? Do not hide yourself in your defiance!

ZARATHUSTRA

I did want to but how can I! Excuse me just from this! It is beyond my strength!

STILLEST HOUR

What do you matter Zarathustra! Speak your word and break!

ZARATHUSTRA

Ah, is it my word? Who am I? I wait for one more worthy; I am not even worth being broken by it.

STILLEST HOUR

What do you matter? You are not yet humble enough for me. Humility has the toughest hide.

ZARATHUSTRA

What has the hide of my humility not already endured! I dwell at the foot of my heights: how high are my summits? No one has yet told me. But my valleys I know well.

STILLEST HOUR

Oh Zarathustra, whoever has to move mountains also moves valleys and lowlands.

ZARATHUSTRA

My words have yet to move a mountain, and what I talked of did not reach human beings. I did indeed go to human beings, but I have not yet arrived among them.

STILLEST HOUR

What do you know of that! The dew falls upon the grass when the night is most silent.

ZARATHUSTRA

They mocked me when I found my own way and went it; and in truth my feet trembled at that time. And thus they spoke to me: You have unlearned the way, and now you are unlearning how to walk!

STILLEST HOUR

What does their mockery matter! You are one who has unlearned obeying; now shall you command! Do you not know who is most needed by all? The one who commands great things. To accomplish great things is difficult: but more difficult is to command great things. That is what is most unpardonable in you; you have the power, and you do not want to rule.

ZARATHUSTRA

I lack the lion’s voice for commanding.

STILLEST HOUR

It is the stillest words that bring on the storm. O Zarathustra, you shall go as a shadow of that which must come; thus will you command and commanding lead the way.

ZARATHUSTRA

I am ashamed.

STILLEST HOUR

You must yet become a child without shame. The pride of your youth is still upon you, for you became young quite late: but whoever wants to become a child must yet overcome his youth. Zarathustra, your fruits are ripe, but you are not ripe for your fruits.

[Life vanishes like a vapor into the very ground.

An Adder slithers toward Zarathustra from under the fabric.
His naked torso becomes visible . . .
His legs are still covered as if he is a part of the fabric.
He reaches for Zarathustra and bites him.
Zarathustra screams and growls.]

ZARATHUSTRA

Oh no…You have not yet accepted my thanks, you vicious circle! You woke me at the right time; my way is still long.

ADDER

Your way will be short. My poison is deadly.

ZARATHUSTRA

When did a dragon die from the poison of a snake? But take your poison back! You are not rich enough to bestow it on me.

[Black out.
The Adder disappears beneath the fabric.
Scream of a bird.]

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