MARNIE
A strange change in the life of Marnie McPhee, who's me! And if this were a movie, like Spider-Man 3, now would be the scene where you'd see a "montage" of me and Dad hammering, bending metal into shape with a flamethrower, giving high-fives—high-five, Dad!—
DAD runs over, gives MARNIE a high-five.
—and doing all sorts of other spaceship-building activities, all to the sound of Celine Dion (who's Canadian, like me!) singing "My Heart Will Go On," because that song is so special, especially if you've got heart problems, because then it's like, "I dunno, will it?"
But unfortunately you people are crazy (or maybe spies) and have come to watch Yours Truthfully talk in her basement, and so all you'll get are the things that are in my head, which is cooler than Celine Dion, actually, but most people don't know, because I'm not famous, this week.
So I'm watching Dad. And he's a-hammerin' and a-sawin'—
We see him a-hammerin' and a-sawin'.
—and a-hummin' his a-song, but not nicely, because he's not Celine Dion or my mom, who has pipes that sing—and I'm watching him and I'm handing him screws, et cetera—
She hands him screws, et cetera.
—and all of a sudden, or maybe it's slowly, maybe it's a slow kind of a gathering kind of a feeling, I don't want to go into space anymore. And I can't remember why I wanted to go in the first place. I mean, I can remember the words that I said to myself—"weird," "special," "normal"—but they're empty. They're like those seashells you hold to your ear hoping to hear the ocean: sometimes after a while all you hear is your hoping. And your brain spinning around all alone in your head.
So I'm watching Dad, and I want to say stop, I want to say it's okay, I don't have to leave anymore, I've done measurements with my measuring tape actually and the house is big enough to hold your dreams and mine and not be cramped, but something stops me, and I think it's the shining in his eye, he's a-hammering and a-building and he seems so excited, so happy… and I don't want that to end, so I say looks good, Dad, keep going, Dad, and all the time I'm thinking I don't want to go, I don't want to go, but I don't say anything, because of the shining, which is scary but also exciting, and maybe genetic, which means we share it because we're related, and Mom and Alan come down to watch and they help too, we're all working together, it's like magic, like maybe it's the air in this house, maybe there's something in the air like glue, and I think: why haven't I noticed this before?—and we're building, we're building together, for days and days, and it's amazing and it's exciting and then—
A sudden flash of whirling lights and machine rumble. Steam covers the basement floor. The eyes of the McPhees are wide with wonder.
It's finished.
Silence. MARNIE is in awe. And unsure.
Dad?
DAD
Marnie.
MARNIE
I'm going to miss you guys.
DAD
We'll miss you too.
MARNIE
I don't know if I want to go anymore.
DAD
Why not?
MARNIE
I can't really remember why I…
DAD
It's up to you.
MARNIE
Don't you care if I leave you forever?
DAD
Of course.
MARNIE
So why don't you stop me?
DAD
Because you have to do what you think is best.
MARNIE
What do you think?
DAD
I think it's your choice.
MARNIE
Yeah, but like, if it was you, what would you do?
DAD
If it were me?
MARNIE
Yeah. And you were me.
DAD
…I'd want to know what the vastness of space is like.
A long moment.
MARNIE
Don't move stuff around in my room. I'll be back someday.
She climbs into the spaceship.
The basement lights snap out. We can see only MARNIE's face, dimly, by the light of the spaceship control console glowing in front of her.
Engines ready.
The sound of engines firing up.
Thrusters thrusting.
Thrusters thrusting.
Confibulationators confibulationating.
Et cetera.
Check check check.
A full hum and rush of machine activity.
Upwards.
She closes her eyes.
Upwards.
She takes a deep breath.
Upwards.
The spaceship takes off.
We see, with MARNIE, hundreds of stars shining above us. Wonder steals over her face. She checks her systems, her coordinates: check, check, check. She turns to us.
I did it!
I'm here!
Just a little while till I reach Mars.
Look at meeeeee!
I'm freeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!
And listen. Listen to that.
We listen. And hear nothing.
The deep, deep silence of space. No sad or embarrassing family voices. Nice.
Silence.
Hmmm. Well, I guess there's nothing to do but wait till I get to Mars. I'll be happy on Mars. Once I get there.
Silence.
It's a little cold out here.
Silence.
Is that Mars?! There! There!
Oh. No. Just a UFO. Never mind.
Silence.
Not much to do here.
Silence.
One sheep two sheep. Three sheep. Four sheep. Baah. Baaah.
Silence.
Hello? Helloooooooooooo. Helloooooo. Hello?!
Silence.
Is there nobody to talk to? Radio? Radio one two three? Marnie to base, Marnie to base, hello?
Silence.
I want to go home.
Silence.
Can I go home now?
Silence.
Please. Hello? Please. I want to go home now. Can I go home now? I'm cold and I want to go home.
Silence. She's trying not to cry.
Hello?
Silence.
Hello?
Silence.
IS ANYBODY OUT THERE?
And suddenly a voice from Earth, conspicuously like her father's voice:
DAD
Earth to McPhee Voyager One, we have contact, over.
MARNIE
Earth! Earth, it's me!
DAD
McPhee Voyager One, it's who? Over.
MARNIE
Earth, it's me, Marnie McPhee, and I'd like to come home. Over!
DAD
McPhee Voyager One, I don't know how possible that'll be, you're in outer space, that's a bit farther than Mississauga, over.
MARNIE
Earth, I don't care, I want to come home, even if it's farther than Mississauga, over!
DAD
McPhee Voyager One, why do you want to come home? You just set out, over.
MARNIE
It's too cold here, Earth! And there's nobody around! And there's nothing to do! And I don't know anybody here! Over.
DAD
McPhee Voyager One, hang on a sec, I'm going to confer with Mission Command, over. (muffled) Mission Command, what do you think?
ALAN
Under.
DAD
Huh?
ALAN
Just signing off, under.
DAD
Mission Control, be serious.
MOM
It's Mission Command, Chief.
DAD
Mission Command, hold it together!
ALAN
We'll try harder, under.
DAD
Mission Command! What do you think? Should we bring McPhee Voyager One home?
MOM
Does she want to come over home?
DAD
Huh?
MOM
…oh, I get it! Does she want to come home, over!
DAD
I don't know, let's ask her. McPhee Voyager One, do you want to come home? Over.
MARNIE
Earth, yes, obviously! Over!
DAD
Your family misses you, McPhee Voyager One.
MARNIE
Tell them I'll stay at home now forever! And by forever I mean until I'm sixteen.
DAD
Over!
MARNIE
Huh?
DAD
Over sixteen! Until you're twenty.
MARNIE
Twenty!
DAD
We'll talk about it.
MARNIE
Dad!
DAD
Who's Dad? This is Mission Command, over.
MARNIE
I want to come home!
And suddenly the stars snap out. The basement lights rise a bit. And we can see DAD, MOM, and ALAN standing around a home planetarium. MARNIE sees them too. But if she closes her eyes, which she does, even now she can almost pretend she's in outer space.
Because her eyes are closed, she doesn't see DAD, MOM, and ALAN turn out the basement lights again and climb into the spaceship beside her. There are no stars. The glow of the spaceship control console lights their faces.
MARNIE opens her eyes.
…oh. Hi.
MOM
Hi.
DAD
Hi.
ALAN
Hi.
MARNIE
Where are we?
Suddenly starlight floods over them. The colours of passing planets. Vivid. Vibrant. Much more than what a home planetarium could create. The brilliance of the cosmos.
We can't still be in the basement. Is this the basement?
ALAN
Does it matter?
Silence.
MARNIE
It's dark out there.
Silence.
MOM
Listen. If we listen real close we can hear each other breathing.
Lights fade on MARNIE's look of wonder, her family all around her. Together in the vastness of space.
Acknowledgements
Thanks a million, first of all, to Pablo Felices-Luna for championing this play.
Thanks also to the rest of the team at Carousel Players, the cast and crew of the premiere production, and the staff and students at the Ontario schools to which the production toured.
My gratitude to Allen MacInnis and Stephen Colella at Young People's Theatre for seed funding to write the earliest drafts of this play, and to the Ontario Arts Council, which provided those funds through its Theatre Creators' Reserve program.
Lastly but not leastly, thanks as always to my amazing family and friends.
Daniel Karasik writes drama, poetry, and fiction. A recent grand prize winner of the CBC Literary Award for Fiction and the Canadian Jewish Playwriting Award, he is the author of two other books: The Crossing Guard & In Full Light, a collection of plays (Playwrights Canada Press), and Hungry, a poetry collection (Cormorant Books). He also works as an actor and director and helms the Toronto-based theatre company Tango Co., through which he has developed many of his plays, produced across Canada, in the United States, and regularly in translation in Germany.
The Remarkable Flight of Marnie McPhee Page 4