Chet Williamson - Reign

Dennis stood up and moved back out of the street light's gleam. Now he could see that a light shone dimly behind the glass doors. He watched, and in another minute he saw the movement again. Someone was slowly pacing in front of the doors to the balcony. His first impression that it was Robin's spirit was, he saw now, erroneous. The figure was far larger than Robin's petite frame. It looked tantalizingly familiar, but from just the bits of motion he could glimpse he knew that it was not Sid, nor John Steinberg, nor anyone who lived in the Venetian Theatre building. Then who? Someone he knew, he was certain of that. Someone he knew.

Slinging his bag over his shoulder, he started quickly toward the nearest entrance for which he had a key, unlocked it, and entered. It took several minutes for him to wend his way through the corridors and up the stairways, but soon he stood outside the door of his suite, listening. He could hear nothing inside, so he took a deep breath, fit his key into the lock, and pushed open the door.

The suite was not altogether dark. A ginger jar light was turned to its lowest illumination, bathing the room in a fifteen watt glow. Dennis listened again, and let the door close softly behind him. "Hello?" he said, but there was no answer.

Trembling slightly, he pressed the light switch on the wall, and the room grew bright. There was no one there. Warily, he went from room to room, opening doors, turning on lights, even looking into closets, but the suite was empty save for himself.

He went back to the front door then, and locked and double locked it. Then he called Sid.

"Dennis, Jesus, you should've let me know you were coming back early. How'd you get here?"

"Took a cab. Listen, Sid. Was anyone in here tonight?"

"In here? What, your suite?"

"Yes. I thought I saw someone from the street."

"Not a soul, Dennis. I was in a couple of hours ago to straighten things up.”

“Did you leave a light on?"

"Yeah, one of the lamps in the living room, why?"

"Nothing. I'm just a little jumpy, I guess."

There was a pause. Then Sid asked, "You need someone to talk to?”

“No, I'll be all right. I'm tired. Just want to take a bath and go to bed."

"You have a good trip?" The words Did it help? were unspoken but understood.

"It was fine. It helped a lot."

"Good. That's good. Look, if you want anything, just call."

"Thanks, Sid. You're a good friend. Goodnight."

Dennis hung up, turned off the lights in the living room so that just the ginger jar glowed weakly, then went into his bedroom. Not bothering to unpack, he stripped off his clothes and took a near scalding bath.

He was toweling himself dry when he heard it. The sound of someone clearing his throat. A familiar sound, and Dennis knew unequivocally that whoever was in the suite was known to him. He took his robe from the hook, slipped it on, and looked around for something he could use as a weapon. The only thing at hand was a heavy antique wood hand mirror on Robin's vanity. He hefted it like a club, praying that he would not have to use it, and opened the bathroom door.

He prayed too that it would not be Robin he would see, Robin staring at him with dead and accusing eyes. The thought made him shiver as he moved down the hall, coming closer to where he could see into the living room, see in the dim light who was there waiting for him.

Then he rounded the corner, and saw.

It wasn't Robin.

(The scene is the living room of Dennis Hamilton's suite. It is dimly lit by a single lamp. DENNIS HAMILTON stands stage right at the entrance to the hall. Beside the portrait of Dennis as the Emperor stands THE EMPEROR, dressed exactly as in the portrait. He smiles at Dennis.

THE EMPEROR

Hello, Dennis. You don't know how long I've been waiting to meet you.

(The mirror falls from Dennis's hand and shatters. They stand, looking at one another.)

CURTAIN.

A man's soul was his own enclosed garden, nothing could obtain admittance there without his invitation and permission.

– "Naboth's Vineyard," E. F. Benson

Scene 1

(DENNIS and THE EMPEROR are in the exact positions that ended Act I. There is a long pause.)

DENNIS

(In a voice filled with fear and awe) Who are you?

THE EMPEROR

(Smiles) Who do you think I am?

DENNIS

You're not me.

THE EMPEROR

I'm part of you. I'm something you created – out of yourself.

DENNIS

This isn't real. I'm imagining it. You don't exist. (He moves toward the Emperor, a hand extended gingerly)

THE EMPEROR

You won't prove it that way. I have no… physical existence, I admit that. (He reaches out a hand to touch that of Dennis. Their hands pass through each other, occupying the same space.) Do you feel anything?

DENNIS

No… yes, something… cold.

THE EMPEROR

Sad, isn't it? Something so full of hot life as myself, and I can only be felt as cold.

DENNIS

What… are you?

THE EMPEROR

Your creation. Your child, born of your performance. Born of its strength and its reality.

DENNIS

My creation? How… how could that happen?

THE EMPEROR

You created the Emperor, Dennis. On stage. Year after year, night after night, the strength of your performance formed me. You were never, as you have said to that woman who thinks she teaches acting, an interpreter. You were always a creator.

DENNIS

(Confused and upset) I don't see… I still don't see how such a thing… how you could come to be. Outside of my mind. That's where you belong – in my mind, nowhere else!

THE EMPEROR

Perhaps I'm the first of my kind. A… what shall I say? A histrion, perhaps?

DENNIS

But how?

THE EMPEROR

You became another person so many times, and so effectively, that that person became an independent entity. Me. (He smiles. There is no trace of menace in it)

DENNIS

That can't happen – there's no way that can happen. It would take more than a… a performance to bring something like… like you to life.

THE EMPEROR

Oh, of course. Of course it took more. Do you have any idea of the power that lives in a theatre? Any conception of the emotions remaining after years and years of people viewing plays, films, becoming involved with what they see on that stage or screen?

DENNIS

(Slowly understanding) Catharsis.

THE EMPEROR

Exactly! Catharsis! And it remains where it is shed, remains as what one might call energy. And the result? Cogito, ergo sum!

I have gone insane, Dennis Hamilton thought, looking at the person, the creature, the ghost, the thing standing near him, there in his living room.

It was there. He saw it, he heard it, he knew he was not dreaming. He may have created it, yes, but if so, he had created it only in his mind. His fingers had slipped right through those of the thing. Wasn't that proof that it was not real?

Wasn't that proof, he thought in a miserable panic, that he was crazy?

THE EMPEROR

(Shaking his head sadly) You don't believe me. You think I'm nothing but an hallucination.

DENNIS

(Firmly) Yes. Yes, that's right.

THE EMPEROR

I can prove I'm not.

DENNIS

How?

THE EMPEROR

If I'm your hallucination, I can only know what you know. Isn't that true?

DENNIS

Yes. That seems… logical. If any of this is logical.

THE EMPEROR

It is. Supremely. (He smiles) Royally. I know the answers.

DENNIS

What answers?

THE EMPEROR

I know why Robin died. And Tommy Werton. I'm sad to say I know why Tommy died too.

DENNIS

(His hands tremble) Why? Why Robin?

THE EMPEROR

(His face is wreathed with deep sadness) She wanted to kill Ann. (Dennis's eyes squeeze shut. He clasps his hands over his ears.) I know. I know, it's difficult to believe. But I can see into hearts. I can see what even the finest actors, those scholars of human emotion, cannot. Robin hated Ann Deems. She took her up among the stars to kill her. She had found a pin that belonged to Ann, a pin that you had given her many years ago. She intended to drop it as Ann fell through the ceiling, and then tell people that it had come off her blouse and she had stepped down after it, not realizing the danger. But the light went on. An unforeseen accident. And Robin fell instead of her intended victim.