Jerome Bixby's The Man from Earth (9 page)

EDITH.
Drugs? Oh, my, I hadn’t thought of that.

HARRY.
I’ve done consulting work for the Narcotics Division. I’ve seen a lot of people tripping. Whatever gives with John, I don’t think it’s that. I’ve looked for signs. Not one.

LINDA.
Could cavemen really talk?

(
EDITH
rolls her eyes impatiently.)

DAN.
We think language came into existence maybe sixty thousand years ago. The structure of Stone Age cultures is evidence of the ability to communicate verbally.

HARRY.
(indicating Linda)
[he wolf-whistles].

ART.
Oh, shut up.

(The people inside the cabin continue to speak but we don’t hear them. Shift our attention outside –
JOHN
puts the last box in the station-wagon. He turns to go back inside, and
SANDY
puts a hand on his arm.)

JOHN.
Maybe it’d be easier if I
were
just –

SANDY.
(cutting in)
Crazy?

(shakes her head – soft)

No.

(They share a moment of silence, under the beautiful nighttime sky. Each wanting to say more, but knowing there’s no need.)

(JOHN
looks off, hearing something she doesn’t. A moment later, we hear the Howl of a distant coyote.)

(SANDY
returns her gaze to
JOHN
, and sees that he’s looking at her, with an expression of deep fondness. And beneath that, she sees a loneliness in his eyes, that she cannot begin to comprehend.
JOHN
smiles softly. She smiles back.)

(Back inside the house… each with their own thoughts. Finally:)

DAN.
It is fascinating. A brave attempt to teach Buddhism in the west. It’s no wonder he failed, we’re not ready for it.

EDITH.
Now you’re talking as if you believed him.

DAN.
Well, it’s possible, isn’t it? Anything is possible!

(off
EDITH
’s defiant glare)

We have two simple choices. We can get all bent out of shape – intellectualizing, bench-pressing logic – or we can relax and enjoy it. I can listen critically, but I don’t have to make up my mind about anything! Do you think you do?

ART.
Unfortunately, there aren’t any authorities on prehistory. We couldn’t stop him on that.

EDITH.
There are experts on the bible!

HARRY.
Dream on.

DAN.
Thus the “lost years” of Jesus. They didn’t exist, because
He
didn’t, until John put on the hat.

EDITH.
I don’t believe about angels and the Nativity and a star in the East, but there are stories about the childhood of Jesus.

(During following,
LINDA
moves to sit on the floor near the fireplace.
ART
thinks about it for a moment. Then joins her.)

GRUBER.
History hates a vacuum. Improvisation, even sincere, will fill in the gaps. It would have been easy to falsify a past then. A few words, credulity and time would do the rest.

EDITH.
Now
you’re
talking as if you believed him!

ART.
Look at the popular myths about the Kennedy assassination, in just a few short years. Conspiracy, Mafia, CIA – a mystique that will never go away.

DAN.
It’s always been a small step, from a fallen leader to a god.

(
DAN
has joined those by the fireplace. Squatting, holding hands near the flames. He sits.)

EDITH.
Nobody will deify Kennedy! I think we’re more sophisticated than that.

DAN.
We are? We are…

(
JOHN
and
SANDY
enter.)

HARRY.
Well, you’re finally fulfilling one prophecy about the millennium, John.

JOHN.
What’s that?

HARRY.
Here you are again!

(No one laughs.
JOHN
closes a window the last inch, and kneels to place another log on the fire. It flares up, filling the room with flickering shadows, quickly dies down again.
JOHN
remains kneeling. Others sitting nearby look at him.)

(More and more there is the sense of time and place falling away. They could be hunters sitting around a campfire, sharing tales of the day.)

GRUBER.
You like the fire, John.

JOHN.
Everywhere I’ve lived, I’ve had a fireplace. A childhood fixation, I suppose. I feel insecure without it.

SANDY.
There are predators out there.

(
SANDY
moves to sit beside
JOHN
at the fireplace. Leans her head against his shoulder.)

JOHN.
One last thing I didn’t pack. Thought I might need it.

(He reaches over to turn on a midget CD-player beside the fireplace. The 2nd movement of Beethoven’s Seventh, low volume.)

ART.
Wouldn’t “Sacre du Printemps” be more appropriate?

HARRY.
(to
ART
) What
?

DAN.
(to
JOHN
)
You have four men of science totally baffled, my friend. We don’t know what to make of you.

JOHN.
Did you know Voltaire was the first to suggest that the universe originated in a gigantic explosion? Not that he was right, according to Paul. And Goethe was the first to suggest that spiral nebulae were swirling masses of stars, which we now call galaxies. Funny how new concepts in science sometimes find first tentative expression in the arts.

(Now
HARRY
and
EDITH
are moving to join those sitting by the fire.
GRUBER
remains stolidly on the couch, blanket over lap and legs.)

HARRY.
(sitting down)
So did Beethoven do physics on the side?

SANDY.
He spent most of his time lying on the floor in front of his legless piano, surrounded by orange peels and apple cores.

HARRY.
We’re on the floor, listening to Beethoven. Full circle.

DAN.
You don’t have any religious beliefs? Or you haven’t given it much thought?

JOHN.
You don’t get there by thought.

DAN.
You have faith?

JOHN.
In a lot of things.

SANDY.
Do you have faith in the future of the race?

JOHN.
I’ve seen species come and go. It depended on their balance with the environment.

DAN.
We’ve made a mess of it.

JOHN.
There’s time. If we use it right.

EDITH.
Christianity’s been a worldwide belief for two thousand years.

JOHN.
How long did the Egyptians worship Isis? The Sumerians, Ishtar? Sacred cows wander freely in parts of India, as reincarnated souls. In a few thousand years they’ll be barbecued, and the souls will be in squirrels.

EDITH.
You weren’t Jesus.

(The room is getting darker. Outside, the breeze has turned to steady light wind. Somewhere something rattles, then is silent.)

SANDY.
If it rains, you’d better –

JOHN.
It’s not going to rain.

ART.
How do you know?

JOHN.
I don’t smell it.

LINDA.
Were you ever, I guess, a medicine man?

JOHN.
I was shaman a few times. I’ve revealed a lot of truths, in order to eat better.

EDITH.
You think that’s all religion is about? Selling hope and survival?

JOHN.
The Old Testament sells fear and guilt. The New Testament is a great work of ethics, put into my mouth by better philosophers and poets than I am. But the message isn’t practiced. The fairy tales build churches.

ART.
What about the name “Jesus”? Did you pick it out of a hat?

JOHN.
I called myself John, I almost always do. As tales of the resurrection spread, the name was confused with the Hebrew Yohanan, meaning “God is gracious.” My stay on earth was seen as divine proof of immortality. That led to “God is salvation,” or in Hebrew, “Yeshua,” which in translations became my proper name, changing to the Late Greek Iesous, then to Late Latin Iesus, finally to Medieval Latin Jesus. It was a wonder to watch.

DAN.
Then you didn’t claim to be the son of God?

JOHN.
It began as a schoolhouse and ended as a temple. I said I had a Master, who was greater than myself. I wanted to teach what I had learned. I never said he was my father. I never claimed to be king of the Jews, I didn’t walk on water, I didn’t raise the dead, I never spoke of the divine except in the sense of human goodness on Earth. No wise men came from the East to worship at a manger. I did do a little healing, employing Eastern medicine I’d learned.

DAN.
The Three Wise Men first appeared in a myth about the birth of the Buddha.

HARRY.
I should be home, kissing my wife. We’re trapped by your story, John, hoping for an outcome, I guess. Are there more revelations to come?

(
JOHN
shakes his head, no. Firelight. Tired faces. Now that’s all that can be seen, a glowing orange cameo on a matte of darkness. A sense that there’s a room out there, or something else, or nothing.
JOHN
stirs the fire with a poker. Looks into it.)

DAN.
Just like old times?

(Silence. A gust of wind. The flames.)

EDITH.
You weren’t Jesus…

HARRY.
Quote the Sermon on the Mount!

JOHN.
(laughs)
Sure. Which version do you want? King James? Darby? New American Standard?

EDITH.
Do you know them all?

JOHN.
No…My point is no one knows the one. Not even me. I
did
try some teaching one day, from a hill…Not many stayed to listen.

DAN.
But you –

JOHN.
The biblical Jesus said, “Who do you think I am?” He gave them a choice. I’m giving you one.

EDITH.
…
Were
you?

JOHN.
If I said no, could you ever be sure?

(Ten seconds of silence. Only the intermittent wind, the crackle-pop of the fire. Then a sob, in the darkness.

EDITH
. Finally she’s crying.
LINDA
tries to console her. The sobs grow. Suddenly:)

(The lights come on, brutally.
GRUBER
has risen and crossed to the switch on the wall.)

GRUBER.
(nods at CD-player)
Turn that off, please.

(
JOHN
does so)

This has gone far enough. It has gone much too far. These people are very upset. I don’t believe you are mad, but what you’re saying is not true! That leaves one explanation. The time has come when you must admit this is a hoax, a lie. Isn’t that true, John? If you don’t stop this now – if you can – I’ll be convinced that you need a great deal of attention. I can have you committed for observation. You know that. I ask you now, I demand it, that you tell these people the truth! Give them closure.
(off
JOHN
’s silence)
It is time. Please.

(
EDITH
has been crying during above, but less and less as she hears what’s being said.)

(
JOHN
remains silent for a moment. But his expression, looking around, tells it all.)