Consequences

This month's monologue was written using the prompt 'sailor'. Written by Kevin Jones and starring Thomas Jancis...enjoy!

Transcript

SPEAKER_00 0:08

Hello there, and welcome to another episode of Shouting in the Evening, brought to you by the Schricht International Theatre Company. This month's monologue was written using the prompt word sailor. Please make yourselves comfortable. The performance is about to begin.

SPEAKER_01 1:14

Yes, this is going to be it. I have a good feeling this time, I really do. Oh skittish ganglia in the old internal fanny pack. Cups and Octie, I know you two are feeling restless. Even so, being cephalopods, you aren't meant to be cooped up in container units as travel companions. I truly didn't think it would take this long to find the right spot to release you both. But this isn't going to be like the other areas we analyzed on this planet. I just I just know it. Computer, initiate readings. Come on, come on. First reading. PH level. Okay, fine. Uh an improvement from the last spot. I'll take it. Next readings coming in. Uh salinity and tempness. Could be better, could be worse. Ah, now for the dissolved organic concentrations. Oh, I don't like it, but it's not a deal breaker. Your contagious respiration will certainly serve you well. Here come the rest of the readings. Ah look, sacrifices have to be made at this point. I know this isn't your regulated tank or your coral castle where we could play peekaboo in between the crevices. There's risk here. I won't skirt around the fact. But cups and octie, it's um there well, it has to be better than back home. There has only a definitive end that's rapidly approaching, but here there's a chance of uh of um You didn't ask for this. You didn't ask for us. Evolution guided the path of our species fruitation anyway, and as a life form, we've more room for thought and disillusionment than what our craniums could keep at bay. Now look at what we've become. No, no, strike that. Not become what we've done. Again and again and yet again. The common denominator is always the same to explain our reprehensible acts of destructive repetition. We are continuing to just be human. Seekers of dominance and power over you name it riches. Each other, the earth itself, and now of the stars. We can't stop no matter the cost. So I'm deviating. Dare I hypothesise even mutating? Away at last from a hard coding to think only about oneself. And self-interest masters empathy and the good for all as defined by I who speak it albeit the others I am I had to leave them behind. All of them. Though I assure you they're with me in guilt. Boris the Malate. That depth to his eyes deepen than the vault of food he consumes. I could feel his stare through my back as I turned away. But he eats up to ten per cent of his body weight every day. To try and inconspicuously fit all that I made a choice. Not even Bing, Beep, Boop, or Bop could come. Doesn't matter they're only combed jellies. Bringing them would have comprised just enough storage to not then fit you two. The transport was the largest available that wouldn't draw unwanted attention. At all times we're being trapped. Even updating my resource classification to allow for off world travel raised enough flags in the system to prompt follow up interview after follow up interview. I almost blew my cover in the last one. But I had to do something. The earth is so stripped and depleted. So this is the next best thing. I say, as I'm not the one staying here, I say as no real scientific study has been done of this planet. A planet here at the edge of our galaxy, I found in a database that is yet to be targeted by our militaries, as a world for possible resource explosion. A planet perhaps with natural predators lurking past the range of my scums. A planet maybe where we all transform over time, becoming altogether new as you have to eradicate what you are now. A planet maybe you'll survive, but not thrive. Speculation is not fact, and I couldn't just stand idly by. I hope you can understand. You two were my first assignment when I was transferred to the containment and research lab. I've always had a love for marine ecosystems. My parents, a sailor and an oceanographer, took me on their explorations and expeditions as much as they could. You could probably guess what mighty and preeminent criticism of the aquatics captured my attention for as long now as I can remember. I made a choice, and I wouldn't hesitate to make it again. This is all for you, cups and octie, every consideration, every mould over outcome, every churn and backflip from my eternal fanny pack, reminding me that what I'm doing is completely asinine. And I know senescence is inevitable. I cannot fight against the universe itself, nor the natural order of things. When the frum of life reaches its conclusion, and the only effort left to exhaust is the final beat of the heart. Well each of your free hearts. It's not the way of things to be able to control everything, but I can damn well try. I um I guess I'm continuing to just be human after all. Computer, execute the following commands. Open the containment units. Now, update the planetary database record. Inhospitable, no viability for life, resource pursuit rating negligible. And finally, prepare the transport for immediate takeoff.

SPEAKER_00 9:51

Thanks go to our esteemed technical wizard Ian for sound manipulation and button wrangling. Join us again next month for another shouting in the evening monologue. Cheerio!