Death: A Speculation

Characters:
GREGOR SAMSA - in human form, from Kafka's Metamorphosis
HUNGER ARTIST - from Kafka's A Hunger Artist
COUNTRY DOCTOR - from Kafka's The Country Doctor
DANIEL

Setting: Gregor Samsa’s old apartment. His family has long since moved out, leaving no furniture, only the dust-covered floors of four small rooms. The action takes place in Gregor’s old bedroom, which is initially empty.

[enter GREGOR]
Gregor. My old bedroom. [stand and looks around for a few seconds] How’ve you been? Dust on the floor. Like when I was - [stops] Ah, my mortal self, what a tragedy you were.
[enter ARTIST]
Artist. Hello.
Gregor. [looks up, surprised] Hello.
Artist. Don’t be alarmed by my appearance; please, it’s all I have.
Gregor. Appearances are overrated. Mine was the cause of a death. [looks down again] 'What was living is now dead... '
Artist. Whose death?
Gregor. No one of much importance. I think my looks scared him into thinking he could still be the same person. Looks can kill, I suppose. I probably could have joined the circus.
Artist. I was in the circus once. In a cage. A top attraction. When your looks are all you have...
Gregor. We could have performed together...
Artist. I take pride in my art. It’s not just a circus act...
Gregor. ...a regular bullshit circus sideshow of freaks.
Artist. ...it pays the bills, pays the soul, pays the mind, and pays the life.
[enter DANIEL]
Artist. [continuing] I fasted almost fifty days, my friend. Fifty days! Why couldn’t I have gone on?
Gregor. It’s a rather cowardly way to die, if you ask me.
Artist. Who died?
Gregor. The person I killed. Starved himself. Tragic.
Daniel. It may be tragic, but it’s a reality.
Artist. It’s noble! I fast for the honour of it; without honour, the food has no taste -
Daniel. There’s no real honour in refusing nourishment. It’s just a psychological way to deal with one’s own existence. Refusing life - but it seems to work.
Artist. And I suppose you would know.
Daniel. Oh, I would. Don’t assume anything about me.
Gregor. When there is no real life, food seems a pointless waste.
Daniel. A failure to challenge yourself.
Artist. A failure to keep going.
[enter DOCTOR]
Gregor. We’ve failed...
Doctor. Failed, failed! I’m a failure, I’ve failed...
Artist. [to GREGOR] We have?
Doctor. He was right there; he was sick; he was dying, oh, God, and I couldn’t help him!
Daniel. The tribulation one goes through to help any other than himself...
Doctor. I don’t deserve this miserable existence; someone save me from it, save me!
Gregor. Let’s just come out and say - it’s better to be dead than alive, it’s better than before, it’s worth it to spite the misery through starvation. [hangs his head]
Artist. It’s getting cold in here.
Doctor. And did you know that the poor boy actually wanted to die? He grabbed me and said, ‘Doctor, let me die!’ I have shown myself as an incapable mortal. I am not a god. Let me die.
Gregor. Doctor, be careful what you wish for.
Artist. But I am...I am still...
Gregor. The pour dead soul...
Doctor. Dead? Who died?
Gregor. I did. I killed myself. Starvation of a spirit. We can only hope that this is Heaven.
Artist. Heaven, what? I am still fasting! I am alive and fasting! I am -
Daniel. DEAD? No, wait just a minute. I am not some suicidal maniac. I had my life under control. I was doing fine, positively fine, I hadn’t given in and my plan was working perfectly and I couldn’t even think about food anymore and you want to tell me that I fucking DIED?
Gregor. What is inflicted upon oneself, whether intentional or involuntary, shall triumph...if I’ve lost my battle to it, then so have all of you. Taste the sweetness of the air! The sweetness of sugar never compared.
Doctor. Oh, Heaven help me, have mercy on my soul...
Gregor. Release yourself from existence...
Daniel. This can’t be true. No. THIS ISN’T FUCKING HAPPENING!
Gregor. ...and as the world spins into its downward spiral...
Artist. I am continuing to fast!
Gregor. ...we are trapped beneath it, struggling helplessly in the dust. [crouches down and touches the floor]
[DANIEL, DOCTOR, and ARTIST are pulled offstage by ‘invisible forces’, silently but frantically mouthing words as THEY exit]
[GREGOR rubs his hand along the floor, collecting dust, bring it back up and looks at it]
Gregor. Dust, my friend. You never fail me. [pauses, looks at his hand lovingly] You’ve even made the crossover by my side, haven’t you? [pause] A reliable constant. [pause] An ally? [begins to look at dust suspiciously, then suddenly blows it off his hand] Traitor.

CURTAIN



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