by Xingjian Gao
(Prostitute appears behind the door with the moonlight on her back. Her face is cold and pale.)
Prostitute:
You just want her to submit herself to your desire, is that it?
Sleepwalker:
(Turns around.) You say isn’t she dead already?
Prostitute:
It’s you, you’re the killer…
Sleepwalker:
You say it’s obvious that the Thug did it, or it could have been the other bastard. Who knows? The stray bullet could have come from the front or from behind. They were shooting at each other, unfortunately she was caught in the middle and she became the victim. Anyway, what good can you expect when you’ve fallen into the hands of gangsters?
(Prostitute snickers.)
Sleepwalker:
You ask what is she laughing at?
Prostitute:
(Moving with the moonlight, she steps in through the door and walks slowly towards him.) Unfortunately it’s you who pushed her inside. You’re so forgetful!
(Sleepwalker hurriedly slips the head inside the suitcase.)
Prostitute:
She was killed by your imagination. You abused her in your imagination, and then you killed her. It’s so typical of men.
Sleepwalker:
You say you’re not with them, you’re entirely different!
Prostitute:
But you’re a man, all men are the same, they’re so egotistical.
Sleepwalker:
You say more or less you’ve got to have a bit of…(Hides the suitcase behind him.)
Prostitute:
A bit of what?
Sleepwalker:
A bit of compassion…a bit of apprehension…a bit of conscience—
Prostitute:
Don’t talk about conscience!
Sleepwalker:
What then?
Prostitute:
The small bit of conscience you had has already vanished a long time ago. That’s right, there’s only a little bit of cowardice left in you, which is the difference between you and them, of course you know what’s meant by “them.” You don’t have the courage to act, to do anything. Only in your imagination or in your fantasy can you let yourself go, being ever so wild and unruly, but you’re an absolute coward when it’s for real.
(The door behind Prostitute gradually closes until it is half shut.)
Sleepwalker:
You say you can admit the difference, but you’re certainly not a coward.
Prostitute:
Don’t worry, she’s not saying you’re impotent. She’s only referring to your so-called “thinking.” You only talk to yourself, and you’ve been using your brain too much to know how to make love to a woman. That’s why you haven’t been able to get your woman, the kind you’ve been dreaming about.
Sleepwalker:
What kind of woman?
Prostitute:
Don’t you know? A whore, one who can fulfil all your sexual fantasies.
Sleepwalker:
(Hesitates.) Sure I do, the question is whether or not she can do it.
There’s no way you’re going to find her.
Sleepwalker:
Why not?
Prostitute:
Because even hookers are human beings and sex to them is only a way of making a living. Isn’t it the same with you? You’ve got to have an occupation, you’ve got to work whether you like it or not. So you’re also putting yourself up for sale, aren’t you?
Sleepwalker:
(Retorts.) You say you’re talking about her, and you’re asking if she enjoys her work.
Prostitute:
Are you talking about her flesh trade? Or the body she makes a living with? Hookers are like ordinary women, they’re not necessarily cold or frigid, nor are they necessarily not wanton. The key is whether you can turn on that special nerve.
Sleepwalker:
You say then she’s after sensual pleasure, isn’t she?
Prostitute:
Maybe it’s just the opposite.
Sleepwalker:
You ask is she going after emotional gratification but thinks that you’re in it for the pleasure?
Prostitute:
You said wrong.
Sleepwalker:
You say she also has spiritual needs, and she’s not doing it just for money?
Prostitute:
Wrong again.
Sleepwalker:
You say then you don’t understand.
Prostitute:
You’re so pathetic.
Sleepwalker:
What do women consider sexy then? Is it money? Or is it violence?
Prostitute:
You’re really out of it, aren’t you? It’s tiring talking to you. You don’t know how to listen to a woman, you don’t know how to listen to her voice, you’ll never be able to understand a woman.
Sleepwalker:
Maybe it is so. (Feels frustrated.)
Prostitute:
(Strokes his head.) In fact she still likes you, you’re such a big kid.
Sleepwalker:
But one who can’t arouse her desire.
Prostitute:
That’s not important, as far as a woman is concerned.
Sleepwalker:
What’s important then?
Prostitute:
Make sure that she has no troubles.
Sleepwalker:
To flatter her, tell her that she’s pretty, sexy, and attractive? And tell her that she’s alluring, titillating, a cheap, lowly, and raunchy piece of meat, just like a whore who’d sell herself to the highest bidder?
Prostitute:
If she can find a customer, why not?
Sleepwalker:
(Startled and speechless.) Is it true…you ask…you say you…could also pay to…
Prostitute:
(Moves away.) It depends, if she accepts the offer.
Sleepwalker:
You ask her why did she accept the bastard’s offer?
Prostitute:
It doesn’t concern you. Even if she did, it’s her decision to make. It’s her body, her own body! It’s none of your business!
Sleepwalker:
You’d pay! You say you’d pay!
Prostitute:
But she has to agree first. (Walks away.)
Sleepwalker:
(Catches up with her.) You ask did she agree to do it with that rascal? You demand her to say it!
Prostitute:
(Steps back.) Say what?
Sleepwalker:
Say it, you want her to say—(Moves forward and forces her.)
Prostitute:
There’s nothing to say.
Sleepwalker:
You must have her say it! When that rascal did it with her, did she feel any pleasure?
Prostitute:
Yes, (Lifts her head up high.) so what?
(Sleepwalker is dumbfounded.
Prostitute laughs out loud, bending her waist.
Sleepwalker approaches, and she keeps him away with her hands.)
Sleepwalker:
You ask what’s the meaning of this?
Prostitute:
Because, you’re not a big, bad rascal. (Turns to move away.)
Sleepwalker:
You say she covets the devil!
Prostitute:
And you’re so far from being a devil, right?
Sleepwalker:
You say there’s a devil in everyone’s mind. The question is whether or not you set it free.
Prostitute:
Your problem is not whether you want to, or whether you’re willing to, it’s that you’re incapable.
Sleepwalker:
You say she’s only in it for the pleasure.
Prostitute:
Don’t you also want your life to be wild and crazy?
Sleepwalker:
You say she is virtually as bad as a broken shoe.
(Prostitute immediately takes off the
only shoe she has on. Holding it high above her head, she moves far away from him.)
Prostitute:
What more have you got to say? She can’t stand men wearing undershirts.
(Sleepwalker takes off his undershirt and approaches her.)
Sleepwalker:
A stinking whore!
(Sleepwalker throws himself at her, but Prostitute turns and gets away.
A frosty looking Ruffian appears in the dark, carrying a gun in a holster attached to a belt on his back. His top is bare. He stops Prostitute and holds her in his arms. He grabs the shoe from her hand, pushes her down and throws the shoe on the floor. Nodding his head, he signals to her to pick up the shoe. As she picks up the shoe, Ruffian stamps his foot on her hand and crushes her fingers. She goes down on her knees.)
Sleepwalker:
You say, is this the kind of freedom she’s after?
Prostitute:
She asks you, what’s the meaning of freedom?
Sleepwalker:
You say, was freedom the reason why she didn’t try to escape? Why did she put up with it? Why didn’t she cry for help?
Prostitute:
She asks where could she have escaped to?
Sleepwalker:
To where she’s no longer under anybody’s control! Come, run away with you!
Prostitute:
Does freedom mean running away with you?
Sleepwalker:
Freedom means not being under anybody’s control!
Prostitute:
What’s the difference, she asks, between being under your control and under other people’s control?
Sleepwalker:
You say at least you wouldn’t force her to do things! You can’t stand it, seeing her being tortured like this—
Prostitute:
She says she doesn’t need anybody’s pity!
Sleepwalker:
You say you really don’t understand—
Prostitute:
She tells you to get the hell out of here!
(The door gradually closes, leaving a small crack.
Sleepwalker is puzzled and picks up his undershirt.
A bald Thug appears in the dark. He is dressed in a suit but without his wind breaker. He takes Prostitute’s hands and dances with her, paying no attention to Ruffian.
Ruffian retreats into darkness.
Sleepwalker turns around and puts on his undershirt.)
Prostitute:
Poor guy.
Thug:
Who?
Prostitute:
The guy over there.
Thug:
(Takes a glance at Sleepwalker.) Oh, the guy carrying the suitcase.
Prostitute:
What’s in the suitcase? It shouldn’t be secret.
Thug:
It’s a head.
Prostitute:
A what?
Thug:
You know, that gadget’s called thinking.
Prostitute:
Oh, how disgusting. Why put it inside a suitcase?
Thug:
Otherwise it’d be too hot to handle. That small thing, it tends to roll all over the place.
Prostitute:
Can’t he just dump it somewhere?
Thug:
My darling, where’s he gonna dump it, huh? Tell me, now.
Prostitute:
Never mind, just don’t try to dump this little darling here.
Thug:
Oh no, how can that be? She’s right here, safe and sound. (Embraces her tightly.)
Sleepwalker:
(Walks further away.) You can’t understand the relationship between you and her, whether she sells and other people buy, whether people consume her or she consumes people, whether she consumes herself, or whether people consume her and consume themselves. But what has all this got to do with you? Maybe you also desire her because people consume her and then consume themselves? Or you’re angry or lustful because she sells sex or you’re tormented or satisfied because she is abused or she abuses herself and these are all but masochism. And all of these things have nothing to do with her, or do they?
Prostitute:
He’s still there.
Thug:
Are you scared of him or something?
Prostitute:
No, but he’s a real pest.
Thug:
Let’s get rid of him then.
Prostitute:
Don’t. Let him be. (Holding him tight.) Are you happy?
Thug:
Yeah, I’m happy.
Prostitute:
If you’re happy, I’m happy.
Thug:
That’s swell, darling.
(Thug lifts up her hands and leads her to turn around in circles.)
Thug:
He says she’s a cunning little kitten.
Prostitute:
She says no, a lazy kitten, lazy and greedy. (Giggles.)
(Thug lets her turn again and again, and then with a swing of his hand, Prostitute disappears into the dark.)
Sleepwalker:
This is a boring world. You think, but only because you’re masochistic. You’re equally as boring, and you know it very well, you know you’re unsalvageable!
(Walks away.) You say you don’t like strawberries, they’re too mild and too tasteless. You’d rather watch other people eating them, especially a young woman: one by one she puts the voluptuous and red strawberries into her mouth, a mouth which is even redder and more voluptuous than the strawberries themselves. For you, watching is infinitely more relishing than eating.
(Speaks loudly.) You see a bat falling down—(Extends his hands and opens his palms to reveal a bat.) Yes, a bat! You haven’t seen any in this city, and no centipedes and no swallows either, just cats and dogs. Even rats are very rare. The streets are all covered with dog shit!
(Thug stares coldly at Sleepwalker.)
Sleepwalker:
You ask him what does he want?
Thug:
He says you’re his slave.
Sleepwalker:
You say you’re not for hire.
Thug:
He says you’re a worm.
Sleepwalker:
You say go take a hike! (Throws the bat at him.)
Thug:
He says you’re a steer driven by other people.
Sleepwalker:
(Sleepwalker picks up the suitcase.) You say he can’t bulldoze you any more.
Thug:
(Thug reveals a smile from the corner of his mouth.) He says you’re his dog.
Sleepwalker:
(Picks up the suitcase.) You say he’s already dead.
Thug:
(With disdain.) He says your fate’s still in his hands.
Sleepwalker:
(Lifts the suitcase up high.) You say he can’t do anything to you, he can’t control you any more!
Thug:
(Makes a weird hand gesture.) He says you’ve already done all that he’s asked you to.
(Sleepwalker lifts the suitcase and hurls it at him. Thug calmly picks up the suitcase, without saying a word. At the same time the door, which has been left open with a crack, is closed tightly.
The moonlight disappears completely. Thug vanishes.
There is only a faint and greyish white light on stage.)
Sleepwalker:
You say you have no compassion, and you have no pity.
When you see others suffer, you feel happy instead.
You say you want to destroy everything,
You say you know that you are vicious,
You can kill without turning a hair.
You say you find evil more exciting than good,
You might not be any less evil in comparison with other people.
You say it’s only because you don’t have the supreme power,
Otherwise, the world would have been destroyed a long time ago.
You say you want to scream and cry out loud—
>
But you have lost your voice.
You say all men are like worms,
They squirm all over the world,
Why? You have no idea why,
Just like the quiet sea bed,
Where massacres and devouring carnage
Are carried out in utter silence.
Fire is spreading all over…(Looks at his feet.)
(The streetlight gradually brightens to a dark red colour.)
Sleepwalker:
A sun,
It has light but no heat,
Falls on a dried up tree. (Lifts his head to look at the lamppost.)
Time has already stopped
Why do you still have to run away?
Jesus Christ, a lonely traveller,
Nobody can save anyone. (Stops and stands under the lamppost.)
You’re not the saviour, you’re not a disciple,
You’re sick and tired of the game of death.
(Prostitute enters, barefoot and carrying the suitcase. She sits down and crosses her legs. With the suitcase between them, she opens the suitcase and starts to remove her make-up, paying no attention to what is around her.)
Sleepwalker:
You’ve already said enough.
Prostitute:
(She rubs her face with a cotton ball, using the opened suitcase top as a mirror.) She asks you what’s the meaning of enough?
Sleepwalker:
You say enough is enough, enough is a word.
Prostitute:
She asks, (Wipes away her eye shadow.) what is a word?
Sleepwalker:
A word is a word. Originally it has no meaning, but it could be given countless meanings. It’s all up to you, depending on how you want to explain it. But in the final analysis, a word is still a word, it has no meaning. Take for instance black, white, eat, make love, saviour, suffering, and baloney, no matter how you mix these words, using combination as the principle or process, or dismantle them and mess them up again before regrouping them once more, the resulting eloquence is still only a repetition of nonsense.
Prostitute:
Then she asks, (Closes left eye.) what you’ve just said, is it all nonsense? (Wipes away left eye shadow.)