Act Two

In the dark, LIZ’s voice, which we’ve never heard until now, starts singing refrain from song. Light and sweet—somewhere near ROSCOE’s bed, right of center.

LIZ’S VOICE: (In dark.)

I’m slipping out of time

Falling in my mind

Ten thousand times I catch myself

I’m watching what is mine.

From end of song refrain LIZ’s voice shifts into heavy breathing and moaning, moving into sounds of full-blown sex as lights slowly rise. LIZ is mounted on top of ROSCOE, her pale back to audience. ROSCOE makes occasional, reluctant groans. LIZ still has her nurse’s skirt on, hiked up to her thighs. Her blouse is down around her waist, but she wears a white bra. She keeps her nurse’s cap on. Her white stockings are draped over the foot of the bed and her white, short-heeled shoes are neatly side by side beneath stockings. As LIZ arrives at the summit of her climax, SALLY, who is fully dressed in pajama bottoms and blouse, emerges out of darkness upstage left, camera mounted on her shoulder, eye to lens, taping LIZ and ROSCOE in action. LIZ leaps off ROSCOE when she realizes SALLY’s presence. When LIZ turns toward audience, desperately pulling her skirt down and her blouse up, the same long, snaking pink scar as SALLY’s is revealed on LIZ’s chest. This should be such a sudden visual flash that the audience wonders if they’re seeing things. LIZ grabs her stockings and shoes, rushes off stage right, leaving ROSCOE spread-eagled on bed in his underwear, trying to catch his breath. SALLY keeps right on shooting ROSCOE, getting tighter on him.

ROSCOE: (Sitting up.) Oh my God. What do you think you’re doing?

SALLY: (Still shooting.) Recording raw life.

ROSCOE: Don’t be stupid! This is not a porn movie!

SALLY: It is what it is.

(ROSCOE groans, lies back down, rolls over with his back to SALLY, wrapping himself up in sheet. SALLY keeps shooting.)

ROSCOE: You sound like some fifties jazz hipster. Go away!

SALLY: (Climbing up on foot of bed, shooting down on ROSCOE.) Be nice. This is just a tiny piece of the total picture.

ROSCOE: What “total picture”! There is no “total picture”! All you’ve got is a bunch of fractured footage!

SALLY: (Still shooting.) We don’t call it “footage” anymore, Professor.

ROSCOE: “Gigabytes”—flash memory—or whatever. Just get out of here! What’s the matter with you?

SALLY: (Shooting.) Tell us something about your fabulous allure, Professor. At your age. How is it possible—

ROSCOE: She’s supposed to be mute, isn’t she!

SALLY: (Eye to lens.) Could’ve fooled me.

ROSCOE: Everything about this woman is suspicious. First she’s from England, then, suddenly, she’s from Nebraska. What’s going on?

SALLY: My mother dug her up. I don’t know.

ROSCOE: This is beyond belief!