Being an excerpt from The Ghost Machine by David Bircumshaw

                                               BONE
                                       a monologue for two

  
           Personae: The Man
                              Bone, the man’s creature

             Scene :     An ill-furnished room. It contains a table, a desk, a single bed
                         on which the man rests, a bare lightbuib, a fireplace, a tap with
                         no sink, a bowl, a mug , some cereals and odds and ends.
                            It has no fittings, no window and a single door. The light is on.
                         In the middle of the room squats Bone. He wears an over-tight dark
                         green suit. He has no mouth, eyes, nose nor hair - only ears.

             The man begins to speak:
                        - Bone, are you listening. Good. Your tasks today are as follows:
                         first, take the table and break it against the wall, then kindle
                         a fire for me from its material. That’s wood, Bone. Next, taking
                         my bowl, spoon, and a portion of oats (the grains Bone, the small
                         rough grains ) and with a sufficient quantity of water ( obtained
                         from the tap on the far wall, Bone. ) proceed to effect the cooking
                         of my daily repast by heating the water and oats over the fire.
                         Be careful when handling my bowl, Bone, it is fireproof you are
                         not. Understand? Good. After these duties have been completed                       
                         to my satisfaction I shall instruct you further. I will tell you
                         more, Bone.
             Bone feels his way about the room and, not without difficulties, executes                                   
                         his assignments. He serves the man the gruel.
                       - Excellent. You may rest while I ingest, Bone.
             Bone squats in the middle, ears at the ready.
                       - Good. I can almost confess that you are improving in your application
                         of the culinary arts, Bone, although my reason reminds me it is
                         by virtue of my possession of the higher powers of imagination, a
                         faculty I cannot imagine yours, than by your manual activities
                         that this apparent improvement in my food is made manifest.
                         Imagination, Bone, imagine. There is some porridge on my upper
                         lip, Bone, remove it at once.
             Bone obeys.
                        - Good. Now bring the book from my - no, no, not yet. First, Bone,
                         tidy the wood remaining from the table and clean my bowl and spoon.
                         Good, that’s a better plan, a better order.  I have often thought,
                         Bone, of how you would survive without my assistance. For I am
                         a kindly man, Bone, I recall well how I rescued you that day,
                         when I used to walk, the last time I walked, when you were blindly
                         standing by the kerb, pitifully incapable of crossing.  We cannot
                         all cross that road, Bone.  I, of course, have no need to now.
                         But you, Bone? No, not you. Get along with your tasks, Bone,
                         my labours are excessive and I may again need to renew rnyself
                         with comestibles. I am forced to support my energies. Consider,
                         for example, my most recent studies: I have established, by
                         prolonged observations, methodically and repetitiously executed,
                         that, as a result of the Laws of Thermodynamics, in order to
                         follow my studies to conclusion, and thus benefit all humankind,
                         I must abstain from any form of physical labour or exertion,
                         other than that necessary to the maintenance of biological functions.
                         Therefore, by dint of the conservation of energy, I shall retain
                         sufficient expectation of life for my needs. For my work’s needs.
                         I cannot expect you to understand the details of my present or
                         future investigations, but be assured, Bone, there are those more
                         fitting who will. Yet you too, Bone, play your part in the scheme
                         of things.
            Bone has completed his tasks.
                         - Good. Now bring the book from my desk. Good. Now turn it towards
                         me and open it on the ribboned page. H’m, exactly as my theory
                         forecast: it’s Friday today. H’m, Friday. We know what happens
                         on Fridays, don’t we, Bone. In that at least we share a common
                         knowledge. Now turn the page forward, Bone, and place the ribbon
                         on it. Good. Close the book and replace it on my desk. When
                         you have done so, go to the door and listen. Alert me at the
                         first sign. The very first. We must prevent the repetition
                         of Fridays. Yes, other Fridays. I have written letters. I have
                         campaigned, cajoled, exhorted. But those in authority are deaf
                         to my science, my genius. Who is ever before his time. They
                         will not listen, Bone, nor can they see. They will only say:
                         The suggestion seems unwarranted. I shall be forgiving, Bone,
                         when my insight is understood and that name of Friday is expunged
                         from the week. For I have proved the need, I have made infallible
                         equations. Have you heard anything yet?
             Bone shakes his head.
                        - Good. I will not allow it again, Bone, not if he -. Enough.
	                I am in danger of fatigue. But understand, Bone, I do not wish
	                to see that man again. If he does come, you are to take the desk
	                and barricade the door. Immediately. He shall not be allowed in
	                my presence. When he touches my cranium. When he feels about
	                my thoughts. When he alters things, I know he does: dates, materials,
	                appurtenances, scenes. I shall countenance him no more. Stay by the door.                                
                         I have need of rest now, Bone, I shall sleep for a while. Remember, 
	                if he comes, the door.
              Bone stands motionless listening at the door. The man falls asleep, stirs, writhes,                     
                     then subsides. He wakes, abrupt and abruptly.
                        - Bone, what are you doing by the door? Go to my desk and bring
	                my book. Now open it on the ribboned page. I tbought so: Thursday.
 	                Who told you to go to the door? Have you been sleeping, Bone,
 	                have you been having dreams? I shall consider your punishment
 	                and inform you awhile. Put down the book. Not there, on the
 	                desk. Automaton. And close it. With the ribbon on the next
	                page. Machine. You are my servant, Bone, and should be my
 	                servant’s servant. So consider your good fortune, your elevation.
 	                Could your parents have appointed you thus? Yet with all this,
 	                you abuse my generosity, my trust, Bone, and sleep at my expense.
 	                You know you are forbidden dreams. I am weary, Bone, your burden
 	                grows hard upon me. I am thirsty, see to my needs.
             Bone executes the command - without any further instructions.
                       - Good. I have conditioned you well, have I not? I shall confide
                         in you, Bone: of 1ate I have allowed much of my philosophical
                         speculation to a matter of considerable interest, yet a matter
                         that concerns you. Yes, you. That is, how do you provide yourself
                         with sustenance? For not only do you lack means of support, but 
                         you have no physical apparatus for the intake of nourishment. To my
                         surprise, I have been forced to conclude that you, Bone, you, are
                         constituted in such a manner as to contain within you a secret,
                         an epochal, life-transforming secret - the permanent replication
                         of form. Undying energy. I have considered anatomical investigation.
                         I have thought of walking again, to go out there, in order to find
                         another, and making a controlled, comparative study. Be honoured, Bone,
                         I shall be devoting more of my attention to this matter. Truly, I almost
                         wish you could talk.
              Bone stands erect and takes a red stick from a pocket. On his faceless face
              he draws a pair of perfect smiling lips. Deliberately he advances on the man,
              who stares, astonished.
                       - Stop, you are acting without my command.
              Bone leans over the man and puckers his lips.
                       - No, not that, it’s obscene, it’s against the laws of physics,
                          it’s fiction.
              Bone kisses him, audibly.
                       - You’ll pay for this.
              Bone retreats, now lipless. Red prints mark the man’s cheeks.
                       - I’ll punish you for this, it’s disgusting, obscurantist plagiarism..
                         It’s a second-hand gesture. It’s blasphemy. You’ll suffer, Bone.
                         Do you hear?
              Bone squats faceless on the floor.