The Scholar (or he sleeps tonight!)
A one-act play by Kevin Korpela (© 2004 observatorydrive.com)
Scene: Fade from black to high above the dark-green forest of the
Northwoods. We move from the massive darkness to an
historic/imposing building in a forest clearing. This is Old Main, a non-government laboratory, also know as The Civic Institute. Entering through a window in Old Main, weíre in an
impressive room with a scurry of activity, people moving and talking with
heated, yet friendly, debate and intense concentration. In the center of the
activity is a tall,
thin figure wearing dark clothes with dark leather shoes and dark-brown rimmed
glasses. He has a serene, yet warm, confidence. His intensity is sure but honest
speaks in conjunction with the opening scene above, "His name: the
Scholar. Heís the leader of a discreet yet important non-government facility,
called Old Main or often The Civic Institute..."
"...Old Main includes
a diverse group of citizens such as writers, photographers, artists, musicians,
teachers, translators, printers, professors, historians, engineers, herbalists,
lawyers, dancers, economists, biologists, tea shop owners, organic farmers,
aviators, logistical specialists, managers enforcing minority equity in
government contracts, developers,
conservationists, real estate agents, psychologists, psychiatrists, nutritionists,
historic societies, curators
of education, astronomers, doctors, and
"...These activists design progressive parity for all global citizens
through a series of projects involving justice, fairness, and leadership via
environmental, economic, social, political, and cultural concepts."
The Narrator continues, "The aroma in the room is earthy
yet meditative...aroma from a Chinese black tea, perhaps an
aged tea such as a 1987 Pu-erh.
Sounds of tap-tap-tappity-tap fills the space
and your ears. The Scholar is among those preparing documents on old-school
typewriters and his current research is pouring onto the paper."
Next Scene: Close-up view of
the white paper in the typewriter with the most recent paragraph composed and
it's words fill the view with black Courier font:
France, in the mid-19th Century, Honorť Daumier was an artist and humanitarian. This
painter, illustrator, sculptor and draftsman exposed the egotism, the greed and the sordid
ambition of the age, its vulgar cunning and its blindness to spiritual, moral and artistic values. He left nothing untouched and transformed the trivial into the epic. He had a sureness and strength as a draftsman, a marvelous memory, an imaginative power to transform and order
things seen, and his success in interpreting an age to itself in terms it could understand.
then says, thinking to himself, "If only
Daumier was a member of our team at Old Main. Anyway, itís two-in-the-morning, the Celtic music is still ringing
in my head from earlier this evening, and
the 16 Ounce Winter Ale is working its magic because
Iím fallingggg. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .asleeeeep.
. . . ."
Scene: View pulls away from the Scholar and sounds of snoring/sighing/dreaming overcome the tap-tap-tappity-tap, view retreats through the window, moves high in the sky, Old Main disappears into the dark-forest of the Northwoods, and fade to black.
Director says, "Cut! Weíre done! Letís go home! Great work people! Good
A few minutes pass, "Mr. Korpela, we can go home now. Mr. Korpela, letís go. Korpela? KORPELA!!!!!"
Mr. Korpela awakens, "Oh, hi, I apologize, I, I, I fell asleep..."
© Kevin Korpela, www.observatorydrive.comô