Bluestein – A Play

The setting: A castle in Central Europe, somewhere beyond the steep slope from Bohemian to Downright Shabby.

A Monster, freshly decanted from the lab, rests upon the castle walls, head on hands, contemplating the bleak landscape through the crenellations.

A Scientist, genus Mad, and his Assistant, stand and regard the Monster.

Their dispositions couldn’t be more different – the Scientist, generally choleric, currently in a state of near-depression. The Assistant, sanguine, remarkably independent of thought for someone in his position.

Scientist: This is a disaster.

Igor [that being indeed his name]: The Monster is Alive! He is magnificent, like a great statue carved in stone. How can this be a disaster?

Scientist: Are you color-blind?

Stage directions: Igor looks momentarily confused by the seeming change in topic, then replies.

Igor: Well yes. All of the males in my family are completely color-blind. How did you guess?

Scientist [changing the topic again]: At least this Monster is better than the last one.

Scientist [speaking in an accusatory tone]: Speaking of which, where is the previous one?

Stage directions: Igor waves his hand in a way that has come to mean “somewhere in the rather extensive dungeons below us”.

Igor: The last time I saw him, he was getting sloshed. Deeply in his cups, I mean.

Scientist [finally getting around to his point]: Was it entirely necessary to use so much silver-nitrate?

Igor: Wasn’t that the point? We used the medium of photography to capture the essential electrical essence…

Scientist [interrupting, loudly]: He’s blue! It simply will not do. We can’t have a big bloody blue brooding behemoth be-dogging the Bohemian countryside. People will laugh.

Igor [conciliatory]: I have a friend in the theatre. An application of stage make-up and perhaps a theatrical prosthetic or two should solve the problem.

Stage directions: Exeunt all three from the stage, and onto the Great Stage of History.