Margaret Atwood - Hag-Seed

“Here we go,” says 8Handz.

After a moment’s pause, Caliban enters with his two backups, in matching Godzilla mashup headgear. They’ve written a new number especially for this occasion. 8Handz hits the button for the accompaniment, and the beat floods the room. Caliban begins to chant:

You been callin’ me a monster.

But who’s more monstrous than you?

You stole, you cheated, you bribed, you lied,

You didn’t care who you kicked aside,

You called me dirty, you called me a scum,

You called me a criminal, a no-good bum,

But you’re a white-collar crook, you been cookin’ the books,

Rakin’ taxpayer money, we know what you took,

So who’s more monstrous

Who’s more monstrous,

Who’s more monstrous than you?

Monster, monster, gonna put you on show,

Monster, monster, from your head to your toe,

Monster, monster, so the world’s gonna know

Just what a monster you are!

We know what you took! White-collar crook!

White-collar crook! We KNOW what you took!

“Demons!” shrieks Tony.

“I’m a monster!” Sal wails. He hides his face in his hands.

“What do they know?” says Sebert, looking wildly around. “Who told them? It was a legitimate expense!”

“Gentlemen, gentlemen!” pleads Lonnie from behind the table. “Get ahold of yourselves!”

“I know they’re assholes and they’re trying to snuff our Players, but this is too sick even for me,” says 8Handz. “It’s beyond a bad trip, they’re scared shitless.”

“It’s part of the plan. Anyway, they had it coming,” says Felix.

“Don’t you feel sorry for them?” says 8Handz.

All this time Miranda has been hovering behind him — a shadow, a wavering of the light — though she’s been silent: there haven’t been any lines she’s needed to prompt. But now she whispers, I would, sir, were I human. She’s such a tender-hearted girl.

Has 8Handz heard her? No, but Felix has. “Hast thou,” he says, “which art but air, a touch, a feeling of their afflictions, and shall not myself be kindlier moved than thou art?”

“Are we back in the play?” says 8Handz. “Am I supposed to say, ‘I would, sir, were I human’?”

“No, it’s fine,” says Felix. “Just muttering. But you’re right, that’s enough vengeance. Not a frown further. Time to reel them in. Cue the Goblins.”

I’ll fetch them, sir, Miranda whispers. Do you love me, Master?

In the midst of a phalanx of black-clad Goblins the captives are escorted down the hall to the main room, which is dimly lit with blue-toned floods. They’ve settled down somewhat: there is no more audible weeping, no yelps, shouts, or moaning. Whatever was in the grapes must be wearing off.

The rest of the cast is already assembled, except for Anne-Marie, still sequestered with Freddie in their cell, and 8Handz, who’s at the computer behind the folding screen. Felix is there too, waiting for his entrance.

Once the four dignitaries have been courteously seated in the front row, surrounded by Goblins in case they lose control and try to run, 8Handz plays a drum roll and a trumpet call, kills the lights, activates a golden spotlight, and, ta-da!

Felix steps out from behind the folding screen with a flourish of his stuffed-animal magic garment. Raising his fox-head cane into the air, he cues more elemental music. For this 8Handz has chosen “Somewhere Over the Rainbow,” played in slow chords, a minor key, and featuring two bass saxophones and a cello.

“A solemn air, and the best comforter to an unsettled fancy, cure thy brains, now useless, boiled within thy skull,” he says portentously. The lights come fully up. “Thank you for your kind offices, Lonnie — you at least treated me with some decency in the past, unlike Sal, and especially unlike Tony here.”

All four of them stare at him as if he’s mad, or as if they are. “Felix Phillips?” says Sal. “Am I dreaming? Where did you come from?”

“The same,” says Felix. “Though my name is Mr. Duke, in here.”

“You vanished so completely I thought you must’ve died,” says Lonnie.

“What’s going on?” says Sal. “What have you done with Freddie? Are you real?”

“A good question,” says Felix. “Maybe I’m an enchanted vision generated by this magic island. You’ll sort it out in time. Welcome, my friends all!”

Tony is not pleased. “You did this,” he says. His voice is still thick with fading chemicals. “Up to your tricks, grandstanding as usual. I always thought you were paranoid! You can kiss your precious Literacy Through Literature program goodbye.” He pauses, making an effort to grasp his habitual manner. “You drugged those grapes, I suppose. That’s illegal.”

“If Freddie’s been hurt,” Sal says, “you’ll pay big-time, I’ll charge you with—”

“I think not,” says Felix. “Sal, you’re the Justice Minister, so I want some justice. First, I demand my old job back, at the Makeshiweg Festival. I was wrongfully dismissed so that Tony could take my place. It was an underhanded plot cooked up by the two of you, as you well know.”

“You’re crazy,” says Tony.

“That’s beside the point,” says Felix. “Anyway, the experience you’ve just undergone is called ‘artistic immersion.’ What you’ll tell the world, Sal, is that the Fletcher Correctional Players presented a very creative piece of interactive theatre, and that, having tasted its benefits — not to mention its grapes — you fully grasp its educational potential and will in future back it to the hilt. Tony, as Heritage Minister, will announce a guarantee of five more years of funding — enhanced funding, I must emphasize. After that, Tony will resign. He can say he wants to spend more time with his family. As for Sebert, he will back out of the leadership race.”

“This is insane! What makes you think—” says Tony.

“I’ve got it all on video,” says Felix. “All of it. Sal mewing and boo-hooing in the corner, obviously stoned out of his mind; Sebert’s dissolving-body speeches; you, Tony, yelling at invisible demons, buzzed to the gills. None of you would want any of this to go viral on the Internet, as it will should you fail to make full amends and act as required.”

“That’s not fair,” says Tony.

“Let’s call it balancing the scales,” says Felix. He lowers his voice, addresses Tony directly. “And by the way, I’ve recorded that fascinating conversation you had with Sebert when Sal and Lonnie were asleep. It tells us a lot about loyalty.”

“I’ll have this place searched, they’ll find the footage, they’ll destroy—” Tony begins.

“Save your energy,” says Felix. “The video’s already stored in the cloud.” This is a bluff — it’s on a memory stick in his pocket until he gets the chance to upload it — but his tone is convincing, and Tony wilts. “So we don’t have a choice,” he says.

“That would be my read on it,” says Felix. “Sebert?”

“It’s enticement,” says Sebert. “You set us up.”

“I gave you time and space, and you made your own use of it,” says Felix. He turns back to Sal. “In addition, I’ll want an early parole for my special-effects technician. That said, under these conditions I pardon all of you, and we’ll let bygones be bygones.”

There’s a pause. “Done,” says Sal, the chief beneficiary of this arrangement. Tony and Sebert say nothing, but if looks could kill, thinks Felix, he himself would be dead ten times over.