Jerome Bixby's The Man from Earth (7 page)

(DAN
takes a quick, angry step. Then a more deliberate one, to stand over
GRUBER
.)

DAN.
I don’t know what John is doing, but I sure as hell don’t like what you’re doing! Knock it off, or I’ll break your Goddamn arm!

GRUBER.
Ah, Dan, you sound like our football coach.

(
GRUBER
rises, still shakily aiming the pistol at
JOHN
.)

GRUBER.
(rising)
What do you think, John? A shot to the arm, perhaps we can watch it heal. A bullet in the head…what exactly would happen?

(
JOHN
holds his gaze at
GRUBER
, utterly calm, immobile.
DAN
shifts his weight between his feet, deciding when to make his move – )

(Suddenly
GRUBER
’s arm drops.)

GRUBER
(cont’d)
I have papers to correct. Much as I dislike the job, it will be preferable to this. I leave you with it.

(
GRUBER
brushes past
JOHN
, out the front door, dropping the gun in the dirt.
JOHN
looks after him, then closes the door. Moment of silence.)

DAN.
Jesus Christ…

(to
JOHN
)

What the hell was
that
?

EDITH.
Where’d he get a gun?

ART.
He had you on the ropes. Are you really so damned smart?

EDITH.
That’s not like Will…

HARRY.
Mary passed away yesterday.

LINDA.
Who?

HARRY.
His wife. She had pancreatic cancer.
(As others react:)
He didn’t want anybody to know.

(
JOHN
rushes out the front door; catches up to
GRUBER
in the yard.)

JOHN.
Will, I didn’t know. About Mary. I can see how this might have hit you.

GRUBER.
Permit me to be infantile by myself.

(
GRUBER
shuffles off.
JOHN
looks after him.)

(He starts back toward the house… bends to pick up the gun. He cracks open the cylinder: the revolver is unloaded. )

(While
JOHN
is still outside:
HARRY
turns angrily on
ART
.)

HARRY.
What the hell were you thinking?

ART.
Something had to be done.

EDITH.
I have to say I agree.

(
ART
abandons his squatting position to stretch his legs.)

ART.
Oh, boy. I’m not as young as I used to be.

EDITH.
He
is.

DAN.
And he’s our friend. Whatever on earth is going on, he’s our friend.

EDITH.
You’re sure about that?

HARRY.
Why are you being so hard on him, Edith?

EDITH.
One of my favorite people has disappeared. Can you get Alzheimer’s at thirty-five? Maybe I’m trying to wake him up. Maybe I’m too sad to cry.

(There’s a long beat. They’re have nothing to say to each other.)

(
JOHN
enters, looking regretful.)

JOHN.
What I’ve said about myself – hurt him. He struck back.

DAN.
Expertly. That stuff about stealing life force…

JOHN.
I’ve always wondered about the reason.

(Long uncomfortable beat.)

HARRY.
We still have an afternoon to pass. Hey, maybe charades? Sandy, c’mere –

(
HARRY
grabs
SANDY
; he picks up a fireplace log and makes the wolf whistle sound. He swings the “club” to hit
SANDY
on the head. Then he grabs her and they plop onto the floor. He looks up expectantly.)

JOHN.
(smiles)
My first wedding.

(Some laughter at that.)

HARRY.
And chances are at least one of us is a direct descendant.

(Uncertain laughter.)

DAN.
And I didn’t send you a Christmas card.

HARRY.
What would you send him for a birthday card? And don’t get me started on the candles…

(A little laughter. But
JOHN
is still down, after Gruber’s attack. Our group knows this, and tacitly lightens up.)

DAN.
I’d like to hear more.

HARRY.
Me, too.

LINDA.
More.

HARRY.
Do you double-damn swear this isn’t some story you’re trying out on us?

JOHN.
Next question.

ART.
You realize this is an invitation to the men in white with the happy pills?

DAN.
(thoughtful)
If it was true – a mechanism enabling survival for thousands of years…

ART.
We’d run out of room even faster.

DAN.
Then one day you might live on Mars. A colony, as we expand. As we’ll have to.

JOHN.
I’d like that. Later, on a planet of another star.

DAN.
I’d envy you.

LINDA.
Did you have a pet dinosaur?

(A chuckle or two.)

JOHN.
They were quite a bit before my time.

DAN.
I’m glad something is.

ART.
No doubt you could give us a thousand details, John, corroborating your story. From La Madeleine to the Buddha, to now.

JOHN.
Ten thousand. And you could say, out of the books.

EDITH.
It’s getting chilly.

(
JOHN
throws another log on the fire. Looks a moment at the swirling sparks, face somber, and turns away.)

DAN.
Now here’s a question…
(as they look at him)
Could there be others like you, John? Who escaped aging as you have?

HARRY.
Representing something terrific we don’t know about biology.

DAN.
Learning all the time.

HARRY.
How would he know? He doesn’t wear an I.D. badge or armband, saying “yabba-dabba-doo.”

JOHN.
There was one time. In the early 1600’s, I met a man –

EDITH.
(suddenly cuts in)
Where were you in 1292 A.D.?

JOHN.
Where were you a year ago on this date?
(as Edith retreats)
I met a man, and had a hunch he was – like me. So much so that I told him.

ART.
You said this was a first.

JOHN.
I forgot.

DAN.
A crack in your story, John?

JOHN.
A touch of senility. Anyway, he said yes, he was, but from another time, another place. We talked for two days, it was all pretty convincing. But we couldn’t be sure. We each said things that the other confirmed, but how could we know if the confirmation was genuine or an echo? I knew I was kosher, but maybe he was playing a game – a scholar of all we talked about. He said he was compelled to the same reservations.

DAN.
Now, that’s interesting. Just as we could never be sure, even if we wanted to – if we were sure, you couldn’t be sure of that.

JOHN.
We parted, agreeing to keep in touch. We didn’t, of course. Two hundred years later I thought I saw him in a Brussels train station. I lost him in the crowd.

EDITH.
Oh, what a shame! I mean, if it was true.

HARRY.
How’s this for a question? What do you do with your spare time?

(some laughter)

JOHN.
Maybe every fifty years or so, when I want to get away from the rush, I go back to a hidden tribe in New Guinea, where I’m revered as an immortal God. There’s even a statue of me. I’d show you a photograph, but it’s packed.

EDITH.
I won’t make the obvious nasty crack about more unwashed cavemen.

JOHN.
Actually bathing was the style until the Middle Ages, when the church said removing God’s dirt was sinful. So they got sewn into their underwear in October and peeled out of it in April.

EDITH.
You say you just happened. I don’t believe that. If your story’s true, why did God allow you to happen?

(Art’s expression says: “Ask him.”)

DAN.
That raises an interesting point. Are you religious, John?

JOHN.
Do I follow a known religion? No.

DAN.
Ever?

JOHN.
A long time ago. Most people do at one time or another. Some just never get over it.

DAN.
Do you believe in God?

JOHN.
As LaPlace said, “I have no need of that hypothesis.” He may be around, though.

EDITH.
He’s everywhere. You just can’t see him.

HARRY.
If I couldn’t do any better than this, I’d be hiding too.

(As
EDITH
glares at
HARRY
:)

DAN.
And Creation?

JOHN.
It’s here. I’m not so sure it was created.

EDITH.
What, then?

JOHN.
Maybe it just accumulated, fields affecting fields.

ART.
And the source of the field energies? Doesn’t that imply a Prime Mover?

JOHN.
I’d wonder about the source of the Prime Mover. Infinite regress. It doesn’t imply anything to me. Back to the mystery.

EDITH.
That’s a very old question, but there’s no answer except in religious terms. If you have faith, it’s answered.

DAN.
Did you ever meet any people from our religious history? A biblical figure?

JOHN.
(beat)
In a way.

EDITH.
Who?

JOHN.
We’d better skip this one.

HARRY.
Oh, come on, John, we’re curious!

JOHN.
Next question.

GROUP.
(a chorus)
No skipping! Come on, John! Tell us! We want to know! Don’t do this to us!
(etc.)

(As the chorus subsides,
DAN
is looking thoughtfully at
JOHN
:)

DAN.
Good Lord,
were
you one of them?

(Big reaction from
JOHN
, which he tries to conceal.)

JOHN.
This isn’t going where I thought it would, or hoped it would. We should call it a night.

ART.
My ass. Spit this one out if you would, John. You were someone in religious history?

JOHN.
(beat)
Yes.

EDITH.
In the bible?

JOHN.
Yes.

HARRY.
Someone we know?

EDITH.
How could we not know someone in the bible?

HARRY.
I meant somebody important.

JOHN.
You may think you know him. Most of it’s myth.

ART.
Well, for Pete’s sake, the whole bible is myth and allegory, but maybe with some basis in historical events. You’re saying you were part of that history.