Mystery Teen Penny: We're in the zone between two cities, two states of mind,

honestly, I don't know what we're doing here. Beginning again

means proving myself again and I exhaust myself with repetition

since I have no permanent locus of repute, nothing to build

on. I watch carefully for signals. I exist on a plane of



(2nd grade. Lights come up on a classroom. The students are receiving a lecture on preparing for the future. The teacher is going on and on about the importance of getting an education so you can go to college and get a job, so you can support your family, and yadda yadda yadda. All of the kids look relatively bored, the majority are expressing this in the most obvious ways: The sucking of teeth, horselips, sighing, yawning, stretching, whispering to each other_ (not really whispering as they're still very young and have yet to grasp the concept of quiet. As far as they know, a whisper is a hoarse voice in another dimension or reality and the sound waves just go right past anyone who isn't- in their eyes- on the receiving end of their babble.) _All the wonder in the world of that one child at the very back of the classroom not paying an ounce of attention to what the teacher is saying. She's completely unaware of her surroundings, gazing into space for lack of a better refuge since the teacher took her book away. The teacher, Ms. Jackson, seems to be getting really passionate about the things she's saying and is absolutely sure that what she's saying is exactly what the children need to hear at that moment. She won't stand for a single one of them to not be focused on that reality at that moment. There are some obvious emotional ties to her lecture. Perhaps she should see someone, in the back of her mind she's aware of the fact that had not the room been full of children she would be labeled a dream crushing nut bag and probably be sent away for a long vacation. Oh, for a long vacation, it does have it's charms. A smile plays on Ms. Jackson's lips.)

Ms. Jackson: Ask yourselves. I'm asking you to ask yourselves. What do you want to be when you grow up? What are your plans for the future? I'm going to come around to each and every last one of you and ask.

Ms. Jackson goes to each of the kids, asking the question, receiving the answer, nodding her head, and moving on. Occasionally she gives an input on what she's thinks of the answer with her usual cynical tone that the kids are unable to catch and put word/name to.

Ms. Jackson: What do you want to be when you grow up?

Damien: (Damien jumps up and throws his fist in the air.) KING!

Ms. Jackson: What do you want to be when you grow up?

Marcia: I'yam g-going to be a-a-a VET!

Ms. Jackson: What are you going to be when you grow up?

Curtis: I'm going to be a Sith Lor-d!

Marianne: A soldier.

Will: A rock star!

Trent: A robot.

Kitty: I am horse!

Dean: I'm going to be a racecar driver, cause I like to go fast. Speeeeeed!

Jeremy: A Hero!

Halley: (A small gasp escapes Halley's lips and she glances over at Jeremy.)A princess.

Aaron: A SUPER HERO! Actually, no. I wanna be a scientist. Wait, I change my mind, I'm gonna be a vegetable. (He pauses and looks thoughtful for a moment.) Can I be the air? (He hears some of the other kids snickering around him and doesn't give Ms. Jackson a chance to answer.) I'll just be a clown. (He puffs up his cheeks and contorts his face in the funniest way, making a strange whirling chocking noise, provoking laughter from all the other kids)

Wendy: President of the United States.


Ms. Jackson: And what about you Penny? Penny? (Ms. Jackson sighs and makes her way to the back of the room and begins shaking the quiet space headed child's desk, making her jump.) EARTH TO PENNY! (She yells, shaking the desk.) WE ARE AT ZERO HOURS AND YOU ARE WASTING MY GOLD! SNAP OUT OF IT, I AM NOT IN THE MOOD!

Penny: Ohuh?

Ms. Jackson: What are you going to be when you grow up? Quickly, quickly, class is almost over and I'm not staying after hours so you can daydream.

A teenage girl of about 16 years walks in, completely unseen by anyone in the room but Penny. The mysterious teen walks up behind where Penny sits and puts a hand on her shoulder protectively. Penny flinches but doesn't acknowledge her.

Penny: I- I don't wanna be anything. (Penny looks down into her lap, ashamed as all of the other children gasp around her.)

Ms. Jackson: That's not an option. Pick something else.

Penny: But I don't wanna be anything.

Ms. Jackson: You have to be something. I don't care if it's a lawyer, reporter, or a McDonald's cashier, you have to be something.

Penny: My mom says I can be anything I want to.

Ms. Jackson: It's time for a reality check.

The mysterious teenage girl for now to be known as Mystery Teen speaks up.

Mystery Teen: My mom says if I don't wanna go to college, I don't have to. My mom says that I just have to complete highschool. You're not my mom. You can't tell me what to do, sometimes she can't either. Poor mommy. Give me my book back.

Penny: I want my book back. You're mean, you closed it before I could bend the page. Now I have t-t-to start over again.

Ms. Jackson: Since you're going to get smart with me, then you can't play. You're staying in during recess tomorrow. Your addition could use some work.

Mystery Teen: You don't have the persuasion to crash down my power of hope with rationalization! Apox! Apox! Look at yourself. You're a disgusting, boring, old, ugly, trod who's been dead inside since the before times. What reality are you perchance promoting? A reality with no children? Midget Scholars in baby ducky bodies who think ahead and never feel.

Penny: You're a big, mean, ugly dummy and I hate you, so shut up... crap for brains!

The class is uproar with howling laughter, "oooo's" and "OOOOHHH!'S".

Ms. Jackson: A mouth like that is not going to get you anywhere but in trouble, stay after school. I'm talking to your mother.

Mystery Teen: (Starts to say something but is overcome by painful coughing and falls to the floor holding her throat and struggling to breath.)

Penny: NO!

The bell rings and Penny puts her head down, crying. All the other kids jump up, excited to get out of class.

Ms. Jackson: Oh, sit back down! Y'all know damn well by now that you don't leave on the bell. I say when you go.

The kids sit back down, a herd of passive aggressive "Man! This is some...", Teeth sucking, foot tapping, eye rolling baby lambs, so very innocent. After a short pause she tells them they can all leave. The children leap from their chairs and flee the room. Penny stays behind.


Ms. Jackson and Penny's mother, Neantrillia Minus are standing in the school hallway talking.

Penny sits off to the side (Maybe with her feet dangling off the stage) listening to the conversation, sulking.

Ms. Jackson: You have a very special daughter.

Neantrillia: Thank you.

Ms. Jackson: She is so very talented and shows a lot of potential.

Neantrillia: Thank you.

Ms. Jackson: She is so very bright.

Neantrillia: I know.

Ms. Jackson: Such a dreamer (BEAT) does she have any learning disabilities that the school is unaware of?

Neantrillia: Not that I know of.

Ms. Jackson: Well, you've certainly raised quite an imaginative fireball!

Neantrillia: Ha-ha, thank you!

Ms. Jackson: Could you try, talking to her a bit? Try working with her, getting her to cooperate. I can never get her to pay attention in class. She's always gazing out the window, or worse, into space. Don't get me wrong, she is very ahead of herself when it comes to reading and her creativity is absolutely wonderful, but I just think she could use a bit more (BEAT) discipline.

Neantrillia: Excuse me?

Ms. Jackson: They say it takes an army to raise a child, and we must not forget what it says in the good book. "Spare the rod, spoil the child."

Neantrillia: Excuse me?

Ms. Jackson: It's great for children to be imaginative and free, but you have to pull them in and tame them at some point before they cross certain forbidden lines. Why, I'd hate for you to lose sweet little Penny over something like a lack of cell.

Neantrillia: What are you saying exactly?

Ms. Jackson: There _is_ a certain thing as _too much_ of a good thing. In other words, there are other words to describe children like your daughter. She and everyone surrounding her are _at risk_. Certain things just aren't acceptable. Stop this before it escalates to the point of stopping itself.

Neantrillia: Don't talk to me like that. I'm not stupid. Use plain words and stop beating around the bush and talking in circles or whatever you're doing.

Ms. Jackson: I haven't a doubt in my mind of your parenting abilities

Neantrillia: I discipline her just fine. I spank her whenever she does anything wrong. Sometimes I make her stand in the corner, no longer than three hours at a time but that's long enough.

Ms. Jackson: Uh-huh.

Neantrillia: Stop looking at me like that. You're looking at me like I'm some kind of idiot. I know how to raise a child!

Ms. Jackson: Uh-huh.

Neantrillia: I know I'm slow, but that doesn't make me a bad mother.

Ms. Jackson: Miss Minus, I think you-

Neantrillia: Neantrillia. (BEAT)

Ms. Jackson: At the rate we're going I don't think it would be appropriate to lower yourself to a first name basis. Let's keep this professional for the sake of your daughter.

Neantrillia: I don't let_ anyone_ call me by my last name. It makes me feel old if you must know.

Ms. Jackson: Ah. Anyway, I was not targeting a criticism personally on your supposed person, I was simply stating that there was always room for improvement in...

The focus shifts downstage where a teenage boy wanders in, walking and reading. How he managed to see while being so deeply immersed in his book is a secret to be honed by only the most dedicated and practiced of readers. Penny curiously watches him come in. she can't take her eyes off of him. He's the most utterly perfectly flawed and modified thing she's ever had the unlikely pleasure to rest her innocently wonder indulging eyes upon!

The boy sits down center, dangling his feet over the front of the stage. He continues reading his book. Penny, gazing at him with all the wonder in the world begins to scoot closer to him. She get's closer and closer until finally, she is reading the book with him. After an uncomfortable pause the boy acknowledges Penny.

Ms. Jackson and Mrs. Minus fade from that reality and make their way off stage, forgotten.

Dead Boy: (Messes up Penny's hair) Hello, Penny!

Penny: Heeeellloooo! (Giggles) Wait (BEAT) How'd you know my name?

Dead Boy: I've always known your name, you just didn't know I knew, but you do now.

Penny: Oh.

Dead Boy: Yeah.

Penny: So, what's your name then?

Dead boy: ...Dead Boy...

Penny: COOL!

Dead Boy: (Relieved) Yeah! Pretty slick, huh? (Stands up and closes the book, offers Penny a hand and yanks her to her feet.) Come on, I'm gonna show you something amazing! You'll love it!

Penny: Ok! Where are we going?

Dead Boy: (Leading Penny in a circle) Just follow me! (Makes a figure 8 on stage, finally leading her off stage.)


Dead Boy and Penny run onstage and stop dead center. It's late evening and they're in the middle of a forset. The sounds of owls hooting and little forest creatures can be heard.

Penny: (Looking around confused) We're lost?

Dead Boy: If you wanna think of it that way, sure. We're lost.

Penny: Oh no!

Dead Boy: Calm down, I know exactly where we are.

Penny: But...

Dead Boy: (Drops down to the floor and lays on his back with his head resting on his arms. He pats the ground next to him. Penny lays down next to him in a similar manner.) Look up there. (Points skyward)

Penny: What are we looking at?

Dead Boy: The comet. See, look, right there.

Penny: OOOOHH!

Dead Boy: This isn't happening right now. I'm showing you something from the very near past. It's kinda like I stuck a tape in a VCR and rewinded it to a certain point then hit play... I can do things like that.

Penny: (Amazed) How!?

Dead Boy: This place is going to start looking like a battle ground of sorts one of these days, and we need you where you are. There are angels and demons all around you. No fear. No anger. Or they win.

Penny and Dead Boy sit up facing each other.

Dead Boy: There's more than one of you this time around. (BEAT) But you are you.

Dead Boy pulls out a small glowing ball and hands it to Penny. Penny's somewhat confused expression changes to one of delight.

Dead Boy: What we need is art, music, creativity, imagination. The innocence of a happy child, ungrazed by thoes slings and arrows, just living and playing, loving as children naturally do. We need daydreams. Everyone knows how to die, but how many know how to truely live?

Penny bounces the ball of light and chases it off stage. Dead Boy stands up from where he's sitting and runs off stage after Penny, laughing.


Mystery Teen is pacing around holding a notebook saying math problems out loud. She has an algebra test in the morning and doesn't even know the basics.

Mystery Teen: Ok, so "X" equals "Y". Right, then that means that if I add seven to the power of twelve and subtract the value of "X" and divide that by 42... Oh wait, there's, like, some kind of curve right there. A parentheses. What do I multiply first? The number inside the parentheses? What if "X" somehow represented how much I cared about algebra? Can I convert "X" into a number of equal equivalence to how much I actually care about math? On a scale of 1-10, how much do I care about math? Zero. Negative ten. Negative 42...

From off stage: PENNY ABYSMAL MINUS!


Mrs. Minus storms in and snatches the notebook from Penny to see if she's actually doing any work.

Mrs. Minus: You haven't even done anything.

Penny: I'm working on it. It's really hard!

Mrs. Minus: I just got a call from school. They said you were absent.

Penny: It must have been a mistake. I was there, where else would I have been?

Mrs. Minus: Were you skipping classes? Penny, I've told you, you can't be doing that kind of crap. Are you trying to get me in trouble with those truancy officers again?

Penny: No.

Mrs. Minus: You kids sure like making it hard on me, huh? You enjoy getting me in trouble, watching me struggle, y'all want me to go to jail don't you?

Penny: No! Of course not!

Mrs. Minus: The court, I mean, the lord blessed us by getting the fine off of us last time. You tryin' to land me in the court house again? Huh? Is that what you're doing? I'll be glad when you kids are out of school. It's too much.

Penny: I'm sorry.

Mrs. Minus: There you go using that tone again. Didn't we talk about this the other day? I don't understand, Penny. Why? Why do you... what's the word you used?

Penny: (Throat starts itching) Why do I resent you? You mean you _still_ haven't figured it out?

Mrs. Minus: Don't you talk to me like that.

Penny: Maybe I resent you because you don't know why I resent you.

Mrs. Minus: Why can't you just come out and say it? Why do you have to talk in circles? Stop talking to me like I'm stupid.

Penny: (Coughs) I never said you were stupid, and I did 'come right out and say it'. I resent you because you don't know why I resent you. If I get any more blunt than that, you'll tell me not to get smart with you again. The funny thing is, I'm not even smart, I can't even figure this stupid algebra. (Penny snatches the notebook out of Mrs. Minus's hands and starts to walk away but stops short of four steps.) Oh, sorry, I forgot this is called being _disrespectful_. I'm so very sorry, mommy dearest. I'll never snatch another object from your grasp in such a manner ever again. Can I pretty please leave the room? Or am I too out of control? Remember that talk we had the other day? Remember how I brought up the fact that I'm so out of control because of the lack of discipline? I'm not too old mommy. You could always woop me. Remember what stepdaddy of the _former_ stated: "Kids ain't never to old to have their behinds beat, I beat my kids on up until they was thirty and look how they treat me. They still know who's in charge. They respects me. You let your kids run all over you.". I could be very irresponsible and say that my behavior isn't my fault. I'm not out of line, but if I would happen to be it would be your responsibility to put me back in line. You could always try grounding me, but I was grounded for the entire summer three years ago. Funny thing is, I never ungrounded myself. Ha! Sure, you lifted the punishment, but jokes you you, I'm still grounded!

Mrs. Minus: What?

Penny: There's really nothing you can do... Well, I guess you could always take away my books. (Laughs) Get it? Because the only fun I ever have is reading? You already took away the internet and you know what? I don't even mind! I'M FREE! Hey, if you manage to think of anything else to take from me, let me know ASAP!

Mrs. Minus: (Angrily exits the stage)

Penny: Wait! Mummy! You can do what any other great mother would do, you could chestize me! It's far over due! Remember what the good book says: "Spare the rod, spoil the child.". And we mustn't forget who brought to light this most wonderful misquotation of our righteous biblical text, that's right! The authorities! Stepdaddy of the formers! My second grade teacher, Mrs. Jackson! I've got all of these people wanting to beat me into existence, when in reality, all I want is... (Sighs) How I long to get passionate, how I long to yell from my core. All I can do is laugh. I'm not even human. I never was, but now I am even less so. It's better to be less, better to not be the bigger person, why be the hero when you can be the villain? (Cackles) Better than being Zero The Hero any day! Oh-ho, much like a can of Wolf Brand Chili with a Godzilla action figure beside it, I am. Destroying everyone and everything in my path... leaving a bad taste in the mouths of many. (Lies down on the ground) Who's the real bad guy here?

Dead Boy: (Enter's from stage right and walks over to where Penny is lying while saying his lines.) Surely it be circumstance to blame. Nobody is to blame for how they are, horribly or wonderfully, they're always the result of someone and something other. Can we really blame the monsters for being monsters? (Gestures to Penny) If they mean to hurt, they don't mean it. What of the sort are you to make yourself a victim to the victim of circumstance?


Dead Boy: Blame her not for her machine mind, blame yourself not for the weakness in the eyes of the crowd and the mirror, blame not I for misinterpretations, blame society for lying about who we should blame. Blame the society of machines. Blame the inventor of the machines, only slightly the mechanic. Blame the teacher.

Penny: God forgive my slightly shifting lines...

Dead Boy: Is teenage rebellion the answer to all our revolutionary questions?

Penny: Things could be worse. (Coughing) Other people have it much worse. (Worse coughing) So very selfish, I am.

Dead Boy: When the children get voiced and angsty, should we take away their books? Should that make them get louder, should we put them on a stage? Happen that their mind go blank? Fools hat? Dunce cap? Where are the parents?

Penny: Dime a dozen, going nowhere, choices, choices, this be mine. Why cry and whine?

Dead Boy: What about those parents who abandoned their children for Never Never Land?

Penny: Some baby duckies enjoy Never Never Land...

Dead Boy: Do yourself a favor and grow up by never growing up.

Penny: I'M SORRY! I'd be a better person if I weren't such a horrid one! Is 16 an impressionable age?

Dead Boy: Depends. Did you learn this? Were you always this way?

Penny: (Startles) W-who are you?!

Dead Boy: Only you can answer that. (Winks at Penny and exits.)

Penny: I'd cry if only I had reason, there's something stirring inside of me, I have no idea what it is. It feels like nothing, yet everything at the same time. The only thing separating me from your average, everyday, totally ordinary teenage girl is me. I'd be more specific, but when there are other words why use other words? I certainly resent the ones who do just that. (Long pause) I should just go silent.


Lights come up. Mystery Teen Penny and nearly all of the kids from her second grade class are sitting on boxes, well some are standing on their boxes, some are sitting. All are doing different or similarly different things with their boxes. Example: One girl is squatting on top of her box while shielding her eyes, like she's looking for land, she hops off her box and walks around it like she's still searching for something; never finds it. She hops back onto her box and continues to look around, hops back off, hops back on. One of the boys is shielding his block from the audience, running around each side, making crazy arm and leg movements and doing whatever it takes to keep his box hidden. One girl is constantly adjusting her box, switching the angles and moving it around to different points on the stage, flipping it over, trying to stand it on it's points. One girl is making a pantomime box around her box, and making little boxes in the air all around herself. One kid is playing superhero with his box. Two of the kids seem to be in sink in movement, whatever they may happen to be doing on their boxes they're constantly making eye contact and hand gestures to each other, then ignoring each other; repeatedly. Everyone is in constant movement except for Penny. Penny is just sitting there on her box. Penny is unproductive. Penny seems lost and confused. Penny doesn't know what to do. Penny's trying not to move much. Penny glances around for an idea. Penny decides to announce her dilemma.

Mystery Teen Penny: Uhm... What am I-

Everyone: SHHHH

Mystery Teen Penny: I'm just so-

Everyone: SHHHHH

Mystery Teen Penny: Do I-

Everyone: SHHHH

Mystery Teen Penny: Can I just-

Everyone: SHHHHHHH

Mystery Teen Penny: I can't-


Mystery Teen Penny: You guys-

Everyone: SSSHHH!

Mystery Teen Penny: BOXES!

Everyone: (Gasps and turns to stare at Penny for a few seconds before circling around her and patting her on the shoulder or hugging her, saying "box" over and over again in reassuring voices.)

Mystery Teen Penny: WHAT?!

Everyone: BOX!? Box. (Points to their boxes before walking over to their boxes and resuming their activities, but slower and making eye contact with Penny.) /Gentle/ Shhhhhh...

Mystery Teen Penny: Ooooh! (Penny mimics a few of the movements of all the kids for a little while, but then she gets bored and starts mocking all of their repetitive movements. She runs around like a mad woman, moving her box about, waving it above her head, dancing on top of it, kicking it, pounding on it, flipping it across the stage, all of the while singing and shouting "Box" at the top of her voice.) BOX, BOOOOOX BOX BOX BOX BOX B-BB-B-BBOX!

All in unison, the kids abruptly stop what they're doing, pick up their boxes and quickly make their way over to Penny where they slam their boxes down around her, shouting "BOX!" in loud unmoving voices.

Mystery Teen Penny: Uhm, Box?

The kids shake their heads and sigh.

Mystery Teen Penny: I'm sorry-

The kids wordlessly gesture for Penny to look behind her. She looks and finally notices Ms. Jackson and a few other important looking people standing off to the side. Penny gasps and starts muttering box over and over again under her breath. All of the kids grab their boxes at once and move as far away from Penny as possible.

Mystery Teen Penny: (Despair) BOOOOOXXXX! BOX! BOX! BOX! BOXX! (Curls up in a ball on the floor, like a wilting flower, curling in on itself.)

Dead Boy and Penny walk in.

Dead Boy: (To the audience) This isn't happening right now. I'm showing you something from the very near future. A necessary path, a psychopath but a path non the less. Rarely, rarely, rarely do they choose that path. More often than not they choose the more subtle path. The blended path. The smooth path. Everyone takes that path. No, not everyone, every tenth person takes that path. It isn't an exact math or science, though those numbers are a very important gear in our non mechanical machine. Do you see it?

Penny: No.

Dead Boy: (To the audience) Look again. Don't force it.

Penny: (Looking everywhere) I SEE IT!

Dead Boy: GREAT! Go with it!

Penny runs over to Mystery Teen Penny and begins skipping circles around her. Mystery Teen Penny looks up, not really seeing Penny, looking right through Penny as she skips circles around her.


Mystery Teen Penny: (Looking directly at the audience, unmoving, almost unblinking.) You have the gift of sight, my child.

Dead Boy: (Also staring dead into the audience) And then there's that little thing called Children of the Korn...

Mystery Teen Penny: Thumbing through the pages of my fantasies.

Penny: (Still skipping around Mystery Teen.) They took away my book. I am my book.

Dead Boy: They're coming to take me away. Haha!

Mystery Teen Penny: They beat me but I wanna play. Haha!

Penny: They're burning me! It burns! (Running in circles around Penny.)

Mystery Teen Penny: It's finally happening. I'm becoming... Anonymous.

Dead Boy: I became invisible, I became Anonymous.

Penny: I became invisible, I became Anonymous.

Everyone: I became invisible. I became Anonymous.

Penny suddenly trips over Mystery Teen's leg and falls behind her, giving the illusion that she went inside of her. Since there is now only one Penny, we'll discard Mystery Teen. Shes now just Penny.

All of the kids stop what they're doing and move center stage and sit. Dead Boy stands in front of them and faces the audience.

Dead Boy: With this outstandingly blatant form of invisible trickery isn't it a wonder that nobody can see it? You'd think that since our numbers are so many, so damn many, someone would finally see us. But they can't see us, because we don't want to be seen anymore. We tried being seen, it's not so easy being seen. Once they see you, they light you on fire and burn every other page, only leaving the ones that are useful to them. That's why we hide. I know that this has already been said in other forms, but I'm repeating it for the others to hear. It's already been said, hopefully you haven't missed it. If it just so happens that you have missed it, don't beat your child, she loves you so very dearly, she's too young to understand just yet. Maybe it's better that she doesn't know it just yet. It'll come with time. Yet, you don't feel the better of the primarily modified avatars surrounding you whilst beating your child and standing on a soapbox, lest you wind up in a jack- in- a- box. But don't beat your child if you end up in one, remember she doesn't know any better, she's still learning, still progressing. She'll get there, give her time. It isn't her fault that she can't run the machine. It isn't her fault that you doubt her ability to run that machine. It isn't her fault that she's trying really hard to put the machine together just right before trying to run it just perfectly so you don't beat her. (Air quotes) "SHE". YET, not a femenazi hero.

Everybody: Daddy's little boy.

Penny: You have more issues than a magazine stand.

Dead Boy: We have too many magazines. The books are being forgotten about because of all the damn magazines! It's already been said, the solution is already in progress, we're not burning the magazines, we're going to put ourselves in them and make our own. But we have to become invisible first. Yes, I am whispering into that other dimension for The Outsiders to hear.


Halley: He who walks behind the rows into that other reality knows.

Jeremy: It takes an Outsider, or many to see those things that go unseen.

Dean: By choice, I'll make my own way. No matter this vessel.

Aaron: We are this!? (Grabs his head and scrunches up his face, making all of the other kids laugh.) Everything we are, is this. If you think about it, we are THIS. MIND BLOWN! (Smacks himself in the head with both his hands.)

Halley: You can be anything that you wanna be. It's all in your head.

Penny: It's already been said.

Dead Boy: Your child will speak if you'll only listen. Play with your child instead of always beating her. She knows, because she's innocent. She has the power to whisper into dimensions. Maybe she doesn't see it, because she isn't entirely in it, because you won't let her be, because of society, but she's in it regardless and that's okay. Don't light her on fire, let her play. It's an amazing thing that children naturally do, and naturally they want to play with you.

Jeremy: I wanna play hero!

Aaron: I want to be the air that you glide on! I'll save the hero from falling. I'll be a super hero!

Halley: I want to be what you're looking for. That golden light at the end of the long tunnel. I'll be with you the whole way if you'll have me. Always by your side if not completely. When you can't save me, I'll save you. Save me. Save me away... forever. Save me. I'm not Mary Jane, I'm Leia. I AM a princess. Every little girl is a little princess.

Everybody: We are your children and we are here to help you.

Penny: (Stands up.) I am not a bad little girl. There are no bad children. There are only bad parents with big egos and perceptions altered by the avatars surrounding them!

Everyone: YEAH!

Penny: Stop beating our children!

Ms. Jackson enters and stands off to the side watching.

Everyone: YEAH!

Penny: Stop burning our children!

Everyone: YEAH!

Penny: Take back your books! IT'S TIME FOR A REVOLUTION! (Breaks into a coughing fit)


Penny: WHEN!

Dead Boy: Be patient, young one, you are still young. Stay that way, it's a good way to be.. Never mind what they say, it'll all happen one day. Crash will go the chariots, but should you not just run away? You are still a teen after all.

Halley: Children, teenagers, all the same. All good and bad. Duality is lovely, listen to that child.

Penny: It wasn't a question.

Everyone: (Realization) OOOOOOOOOHHH.

Dead Boy: It's already been said that it's already been said.

Aaron: Question everything.

Everybody: WHY?

Aaron: Why do you think? (Obvious)

Halley: Why not feel?

Aaron: We are feeling and thinking creatures. Why is thinking bad? We are but a brain. Our minds are physical things as feelings happen to be. Minds. There's that letter "S" at the end.

Everybody: PLUAREL.

Aaron: We have other minds. Other worlds. Other bodies. Other thoughts. Other ideas.

Penny: Other words.

Aaron: Words are thoughts.

Halley: I am a feeling.

Aaron: I am a thought.

Dead boy: Do we not feel every piercing thought?

Penny: It isn't a question.

Ms. Jackson: Stop the machine.

Penny: I am a question.

Ms. Jackson: Stop the machine.

Penny: I am but a little girl.

Dead Boy: I am you.

Penny: But-

Dead Boy: No buts. Everything is what you perceive it to be. You are a mirror. You are everything. You are the earth, the sky, the moon, the sun.

Aaron: The air.

Halley: The teacher.

Jeremy: SSSSSHHH! The teacher's coming!

Ms. Jackson: (Moving upstage) I was already here. You aren't second graders so stop acting like it. You are scholars and I expect you to act as such. Today's lesson will be a refresher on geometry.


Ms. Jackson: You aren't going to get anywhere in society with that attitude.

As if by magic Penny and Jeremy's hands both go up at the same time. They glance over at each other, baffled. Something unspoken passed between them and it made them both feel a bit uneasy.

Ms. Jackson: Yes, Jeremy?

Jeremy: Can I go to the restroom?

Ms. Jackson: Yes. Penny?

Jeremy stands and walks off stage.

Penny: Oh, (hesitates) I have to go to the bathroom too...

Ms. Jackson: You'll have to wait for Jeremy to get back.

Penny: But it's an emergency!

Ms. Jackson: Okay, but you'll have to use one of your passes. Go, I'll sign it when you get back.

Penny: Thank you!

Penny stands and follows Jeremy off stage. Suddenly two loud bangs are heard.


Jeremy walks the perimeter of the stage, not really trying to get anywhere, just wandering around. Daze like, but completely aware. Penny stands far center right watching, also in a daze. Jeremy stops walking for a moment and gestures for Penny to follow him before continuing to walk around the perimeter of the stage, Penny following behind unquestioningly. After a little while Penny's head snaps up and she comes out of her daze. She looks around anxiously, full of fear, absolutely terrified. Jeremy stops and looks back at Penny.

Penny: WE'RE LOST?!

Jeremy: I know where we are.

Penny: Where? How did we get here?! Jeremy? Is this a dream?!

Jeremy: Do you want it to be?

Penny: I-

Jeremy: It could very well be a reality.

Penny gets startled by an owl and nearly jumps into Jeremy's arms.

Jeremy: Remember, every time you use violence or are afraid the world is in danger.

Penny: (Takes a deep breath) Okay.

Jeremy: Stay here. (Walks off stage and comes back on with a sword.) Do you know the difference between a sword of war and a sword of peace? A sword of peace only has knicks and warps on the defensive side of the blade. (Pulls out the sword to show Penny.) I don't believe in guns, but I defend myself with this very old Pakistani blade. I use the sword of peace to promote peace, love, creativity, and understanding. Everybody knows how to die, but how many of us truly know how to live?

Penny: Well, I do. But honestly if everyone followed my example they'd all be described like the Motorcycle Boy.

Jeremy: (Scratches his chest with the sword of peace and sighs, sitting on the ground.) Sometimes I just feel like running away. I'm tired of always having to fight. Just once I'd like to be able to just run away. Why do I always have to stay strong?

Penny: (Confused by his sudden change of tone) Huh?

Jeremy: It's never supposed to be about me. My problems are small. I'm the hero, I'm supposed to save the day. (Long pause) This advice is to you, from myself, to myself. Don't buy into the fear that the avatars surrounding you constantly beat you with. They want to beat you, beat you into the shape that they think is usable in their ploy. The believers in the great nothing want nothing more than to kill you with doubt and fear. They only have the power if you give it to them. Like the never ending story of the labyrinth. You will find your way. We engage in warfare inside and out, and from out there is no way out unless you want there to be. I know you will someday be able to make sense of this, and until that day comes be in love with everything about being human.

Penny: Everything is horrible and dull, this world doesn't even live up to it's own expectations. We are the world and I'm through with the world. I'll project what I see. It's all about me, I don't want it to be. Sure being the hero is hard, but have you every tried being the villain? If I'm not the villain then I have no refuge, maybe I don't want to do good. I can't seem to, it's never about you, if only I could be like you. (Sits down next to Jeremy)

Jeremy: I'm dead.

Penny: I was never alive.

Battle sounds can be heard and Jeremy stands up, drawing his sword. He has a tired look on his face.

Jeremy: It's starting.

Penny: (Alarmed) What!?

Jeremy: Don't panic. Never panic. Remember what I said about fear.

Penny: But what am I supposed to do?!

Jeremy: What children where born into this world to do. (Hands Penny a glowing ball of light)

Penny: B-but what am I supposed it do!?

Jeremy: It's already been said.

Penny: But I don't understand!

Jeremy suddenly runs off stage with his sword raised, shouting "FOR NARNIA!" Penny just stands in one spot for a moment unsure of what to do, she then grabs her head and falls to her knees shaking, a look of searing pain on her face. Bolting up right and letting out a terrifying scream, she jumps to her feet and throws the ball off stage, running after it with her fist in the air.



Penny, Jeremy, Dead Boy, and Mystery Teen Penny all stand side by side facing the audience.

Mystery Teen: We're in the zone between two cities, two states of mind,

honestly, I don't know what we're doing here. Beginning again

means proving myself again and I exhaust myself with repetition

since I have no permanent locus of repute, nothing to build

on. I watch carefully for signals. I exist on a plane of

incomprehension. My cough is getting worse and gets worse at

night. There's no end to it. The truth is, we have no reason to

be here, no deep connection with a job or institution or field

that requires our presence. We might as well be otherwise, but

this is indicative of nothing more than a random step on a

Turing tape. Otherwise is always otherwise. The plane of the

event is brute history, not historiography. What gets lost in

the detail is investment or purpose, and use value appears as a

chimera of exchange. In other words, there are other words.

Through this process, psychosis or at least daymares and night

terrors result. Our books which ordered our lives are diffused

and separated from themselves. Our skin falls off and I dream

this. Everything is duplicated in the form of displacement

processes. The processes are non-linear equations, chaotic, with

a mute inability to return or recuperate an origin. The result

is my sickness gets worse and entangled. At times I cannot

breathe and this is accompanied by frightening color shifts and

a rattling of the visual field. The field appears to burn as if

the world charred, as if my fallen skin charred and I do not

dream this; this is a gift of the real and its horror. I know in

the depths of my being I do not belong here, I do not belong

anywhere; I am the aleph and tav of the dance of the knives. The

core of the problem is the absence of routes from the core, the

absence of roots within it. If my eyes disappear, I am no more

blinded than in the uncanny gully of the real which seems almost

the simulacrum of a life. I talk to my avatar and join her in

the shards of the screen. One cannot have psychosis if one is

psychosis; one cannot be flesh if one is flesh. Here, where I am

not and have not been, one cannot be. The other cannot be either

and none of us can. The shards of her avatar say so.

Jeremy: I cry gallantry.

Penny: I cry it in front of the mirror.

Dead boy: Invisible.

Penny: I cry.

Jeremy: Who am I? Am I? I Am? Am I want I think I am?

Penny: I think, therefor I am?

All: Why not feel?

Penny: How I detest the real with raging fire.

Mystery Teen: Liar.

Penny: As I am always. I might as well.

All: I'm never going to grow up. Forever I cry, unreal, in this exile. In this exile. In this exile.


Ms. Jackson: Ask yourselves! I'm asking you to ask yourselves. What do you want to be when you grow up?

Damien: Worthy.

No one else answers. She realizes she is in a room filled with the dead.

Ms. Jackson: I need a vacation!