Jerome Bixby's The Man from Earth Page 6

JOHN. End of the line. Everybody off.

  (Slow reactions at first. As if rousing from a dream. Double-takes. Then a flurry of realization.)

  DAN. W-w-w-what?

  JOHN. It’s a story. I’m sorry, it’s only a story.

  (A sudden Deluge of reactions. Total deflation, shock, disgusted impatience, sour humor. A sagging EDITH bursts out crying again, release from tension.)

  HARRY. Oh, man…

  (During following, more frustrated reactions. GRUBER’s expression remains one of professional scrutiny.)

  DAN. (some relief) Another fairy tale.

  ART. My – God!

  EDITH. All of it? But why? What in the name of Heaven made you?

  ART. You had us wondering if you were sane, and you call it just a story? Whatever gave you such a half-baked asinine idea!

  JOHN. At least you’re relieved I’m not a nut?

  ART. I might have preferred it.

  JOHN. You gave me the idea. All of you.

  DAN. Come again?

  JOHN. Edith saw my fake van Gogh –

  EDITH. You could have just told me!

  JOHN. – and commented that I never age, Art gave me his book on early man, you spotted the burin, and said, “If stones could speak.”

  DAN. I knew it!

  JOHN. I got the notion, and ran it past you, to check your reactions. It went too far.

  DAN. (looming over JOHN) “Too far?” Check my reaction.

  JOHN. And you asked if I was a figure in religious history.

  You asked if I created future identities. You asked if there might be another like me. We were chasing our tails around the maypole, enjoying the mystery, the analytical stretch. You were playing my game, I was playing yours.

  DAN. Well, you kept us going! I have to admit, you’re good! You know those Chinese boxes, one inside the other inside the other? I feel like I’m in the last box. You son of a bitch! How could you do it to us?

  EDITH. I was worried about you.

  JOHN. I know. I was tempted to cop out a dozen times, but I wanted to see if you could refute what I was saying. I had the perfect audience. An anthropologist, biologist, archeologist, a Christian literalist.

  (We see SANDY’s expression, looking at JOHN.)

  ART. Linda, I’m leaving. You coming?

  HARRY. (as LINDA rises) Do you plan to write the story?

  JOHN. If I do, I’ll send you copies.

  ART. You can keep mine. You’re a lunatic. I don’t know you.

  (ART exits.)

  LINDA. It was nice seeing you again, Dr. Oldman. Your name’s a pun, isn’t it? Old man. Did it help with your story idea?

  ART. (impatient, from outside) Linda.

  (She goes out the front door, joins ART on the porch, he practically drags her to the motorcycle O.S.)

  JOHN. Well, Art’s half right.

  HARRY. Which half? (off JOHN’s silence) At least, I won’t have to throw away half of everything I know about biology.

  JOHN. Which half?

  DAN. It was a beautiful idea, so rich with possibilities.

  JOHN. (to GRUBER) Maybe you should do a paper on it, doctor?

  (We hear the motorcycle start up, pull away.)

  GRUBER. Maybe I will interview you in the rubber room, for further details. You may still need help, my friend.

  (Various expressions of relief, resentment. Impatience with John, perhaps at their own self-indulgence. Even a touch of disappointment?)

  (JOHN quietly starts to gather up refuse. Paper plates, cups, Coke cans. Silence from all… )

  (JOHN stuffs refuse into a garbage bag and marches outside with it. SANDY follows quickly. As soon as they are out of earshot:)

  SANDY. (quietly) My ass.

  JOHN. (as quietly) I thought it sounded pretty good.

  SANDY. They believe you because they have to. You can’t destroy their universe. But one thing I know is you would never use people – abuse their good will and intelligence – like they think you’ve done to them.

  JOHN. Psych 101?

  SANDY. Woman, one on one. So you’re a pretty fast liar. Are you still Mr. Ugh? What is your real name?

  JOHN. Believe it or not, the sound was “Jon.”

  SANDY. Why did you cave to Gruber?

  JOHN. What had happened was enough. Not what I wanted, but not surprising.

  (She moves closer to look up into his face.)

  SANDY. Fourteen thousand years old. I bet that’s a lot of women.

  JOHN. Are we counting?

  (EDITH and HARRY appear on the porch.)

  HARRY. I’m taking Edith home. Sandy?

  SANDY. I’ll stay.

  EDITH. Are you sorry for some of those things you said?

  JOHN. I’m sorry I said them.

  EDITH. Well, like a good Christian. (gives JOHN a hug) Oh,

  John, you did a terrible thing, but we’re so thankful you’re all right. Even Art. He just hates things he can’t understand.

  HARRY. You’re a sadist, but I got a kick out of chasing my tail around the maypole, even though that’s all I caught. In any case, good luck, John. I do wish you the best.

  (As EDITH and HARRY turn away, DAN appears at the door. His face wears a peculiar expression.)

  JOHN. Dan?

  DAN. I don’t know. There’s something about this, John. Something about you. The longer I think about it, I’m not in that Chinese box any more. I sense – space. A kind of latitude in what we happily call reality – in which, as everybody keeps saying, anything is possible. (as JOHN opens his mouth) Not a word, please. I’m going home and watch “Star Trek” – for a dose of reality. Good luck, wherever all this leads you. Drop me a line, let me know how you’re making out.

  JOHN. I will.

  (They shake warmly. DAN leaves. JOHN ties garbage bags.)

  (Unseen by JOHN or SANDY, GRUBER has moved to the door and can hear them.)

  SANDY. So, John Oldman, how many other pun names have you used?

  JOHN. Sometimes John Newman. John Savage. John Paley, for Paleolithic. I got a little wild about sixty years ago, teaching at Harvard. I was John Thomas Partee. Boston, Tea-party? Get it?

  (SANDY laughs.)

  GRUBER. (Big reaction) Boston? Sixty years ago? John Partee?

  (GRUBER wavers in the doorway. Puts out a hand to steady himself.)

  GRUBER (cont’d) (almost violently) You did not – teach chemistry !

  (JOHN’s silence is the answer.)

  GRUBER (cont’d) I do NOT – believe you!

  (JOHN moves to help GRUBER. Sober understanding.)

  JOHN. Your mother’s name was Nora.

  GRUBER. (stricken) No! Yes, Nora! My mother! I REJECT THIS! I – my – my dog’s name? We had him before I was born!

  (JOHN thinks for a moment.)

  JOHN. Wolfie.

  ( GRUBER moans. Lumbers away from the door on wobbly legs, back into the cabin, in no particular direction. An agony of conflicting emotions. He bumps the counter, braces hands on it. JOHN and SANDY are on either side of him.)

  JOHN (cont’d) The name Gruber. Nora remarried?

  GRUBER. She said we were abandoned.

  (GRUBER slumps over the counter. He raises his head to peer at JOHN, not focusing. JOHN and SANDY steady him, looking at each other across his bowed shoulders.)

  JOHN. I’m sorry she told you that. I left, as I had to. And I left enough.

  GRUBER. I – cold…

  JOHN. Little Chilly Willy. You never could stand cold.

  GRUBER. You – had a beard.

  JOHN. You’d pull it to see if it was real.

  (JOHN places a hand on Gruber’s arm. GRUBER clasps it with his other hand. GRUBER suddenly gasps. Convulses. Stumbles, falls …In a second JOHN has him on his back, performing chest compression. Stops for a moment to check airway.)

  JOHN (cont’d) (at SANDY) 911!

  (SANDY stumbles to the bedroom. We hear her frantic voice, but not the words.)

  JOHN (cont’d) C’mon, Will
–

  (JOHN continues chest compression, then starts mouth to mouth.)

  (SANDY returns. Watches from the doorway, crying, as JOHN continues futilely, pumping, counting, breathing…)

  (And then, at last …JOHN gives up. Caresses Gruber’s brow.)

  JOHN (cont’d) Willy…

  (JOHN is on the verge of tears …finally, after all these years, a new experience. Not a good feeling.)

  (SANDY raises her head to gasp in air. Crying. As she lowers her head, JOHN shoots her a look, expression almost fierce. Does she have strength?)

  (We hear the Siren as an ambulance approaches.)

  (Lights fade to black; the only illumination is a red emergency beacon flashing across the stage; it fades to black.)

  (As we fade back up, Gruber’s body is gone. JOHN and SANDY stand in the doorway, watching as a PARAMEDIC and a POLICE OFFICER quietly converse in the yard. The PARAMEDIC exits, and we hear the sound of his ambulance start up and drive off.)

  (The OFFICER approaches JOHN:)

  OFFICER. You’ll keep in touch, Dr. Oldman, in case there are any questions?

  JOHN. I’ll be back for the funeral.

  (The OFFICER flips his note-pad shut, tips his hat to

  SANDY, and exits across the yard. We’ll hear his car drive away. JOHN steps onto the porch. Pauses to look up.)

  (Icy wind ruffles John’s hair, his shirt. He doesn’t seem to notice, though SANDY is shivering.)

  SANDY. You never saw a grown child die.

  (JOHN is silent. She starts to put a hand on his arm – )

  JOHN. No.

  (SANDY winces back. She watches from the door, miserable but not objecting, as JOHN enters the house. He gathers up the CD-player. Turns off the lights, goes outside, and gets in his wagon. Starts it up. But he doesn’t drive off just yet.)

  (SANDY watches from the porch. JOHN turns to face her… he smiles, sadly. She smiles, too.)

  (As SANDY goes down the steps to join JOHN, the lights slowly fade.)

  The End

  PRODUCTION STILLS FROM THE MOTION PICTURE JEROME BIXBY’S THE MAN FROM EARTH

  Dr. Gruber (Richard Riehle), the bereaved psychiatrist, makes his point.

  John (David Lee Smith) and Sandy (Annnika Peterson) share a romantic moment.

  Tony Todd (“Dan”, the anthropologist) rehearses off-set.

  Edith, the art professor (Ellen Crawford) examines John’s

  “Van Gogh”.