Chapter Text
[Tape Recorder Clicks On.]
[Birds are singing in the background and a soft wind is rustling the leaves of nearby trees.]
Jon
Ah.
Martin
Oh fuck off.
Jon
No it’s not.. I think it just came with us. There was one in my jacket pocket before-
Martin
Right. So no web powers attached to this one.
Jon
N-No. I don’t think. I can’t… feel the fears here. Or at least my connection to the eye. It’s gone.
Martin, it’s gone. (silence, a long pause) Oh, right.
[Click.]
[Click.]
[The birdsong and the wind is still there.]
Jon
Can we please just keep it on?
Martin
Why Jon?
Jon
I-I’m scared Martin. I don’t know where we are or what I am or what we are going to do. Please, I know it’s wrong but, it’s a comfort to me.
Martin
And you think that's normal?
Jon
No, no of course not. But please.
Martin
I can’t stop you can I? Can’t stop you doing anything you want to do.
(pause)
Jon
I’m sorry Martin.
Martin
I understand why you did it, of course I understand. But a part of me didn’t actually think… a part of me didn’t actually think you could lie to me like that.
Jon
I know. I know. I’m-
Martin
Just stop Jon. Just stop it. You’ve said sorry enough. You did what you did and now we’re here and I- I just can’t hear it anymore. Not right now. (pause) Are you hurt? Did I- does it still hurt?
Jon
No. I don’t know why but it’s healed. Scarred but healed.
(Martin lets out a breath of relief.)
Martin
Enough now Jon, please.
[Click.]
[Click.]
[Birdsong, wind but this time footsteps as well.]
Jon
I’ve left Martin alone, for a while at least. I’m not too far. I can still see his hair if I look through the trees so I know he’s still there. He- he hates me. I know he does. How can I blame him after what I have done to him? We were.. We were falling. For a long time. For an eternity. It was like falling in your sleep, like your heart falling out of your still and frozen body. And then we landed, or woke up, here. In these woods. And Martin won’t look at me.
I… I don’ t know where we are. My head feels empty for the first time in a long time. I’m not… desperate to find out either. Curious, yes. But the ache for answers, for knowing and knowledge… it’s gone.
I feel so empty.
There’s no reason to talk to this tape recorder. Martin keeps glaring at it, suspicious and hateful. I know I should hate it too but, well Martin can’t look at me, and the tapes are all I’ve had for a long time.
[Click.]
[Click.]
[A soft crackling fire, footsteps]
Martin
Oh. you’re back
Jon
You made a fire…?
Martin
Yep.
Jon
Oh… oh Martin. Martin your hands.
Martin
Don’t. Don’t- I’m fine. It’s fine. It was getting cold.
Jon
But still, you didn’t have to rub your hands raw to make a fire.
Martin
Right well next time you can do it instead of fucking off to once again talk to a tape recorder.
Jon
Martin, Martin please just listen. I-
Martin
Listen to what. Haven’t you already said all you’ve had to say. You made your choice and that's okay. I made mine too and I’m not angry that I’m here I’m just angry that you lied to me, lied to everyone. After everything, everything we had all been through. I know, I know you feel like you cannot pass what happened to you onto another person and I understand that but you were not the only one who has been affected by all of this shit. This was not your choice to make alone and you had no right, no right to do what you did. I know you disagree. I know you will never let go of the idea that you are to blame for everything awful and only you can fix it. So, I’ve heard everything there is to hear from you and I can’t hear anymore. I love you and I can’t listen to you justify why you deserved the burden of destroying an entire world.
Jon
I-
Martin
And for fuck’s sake turn the bloody tape recorder off.
Jon
Martin-
Martin
I’m going to sleep, Jon.
[Click.]
[Click.]
[The fire has died but the birdsong has returned.]
Jon
When I was younger, I wanted to be a teacher. My Grandmother wasn’t around much, didn’t really have the time or the energy to hear about the things I had learnt or discovered or read. I kept them all in my head until around year 3 when I was given this yellow exercise book by a teacher and told to keep it as a diary. She took it in every other week to read and mark and hand it back with stickers or writing in red ink. Again, my Grandmother wasn’t around much and I spent most of my time out of school alone so instead of writing about weekend days out or things I did with family like the other kids did I just wrote about the things I had learnt. Small, childish things. Random facts from whatever book I had read that week or things I had picked up from the radio. Sometimes it was about my observations of real life as well… like the way the air smelt just before heavy rain. My Grandmother read it once and scolded me. Told me that diaries were full of recollections of the things you do not what you learn. But every week without fail the teacher would draw a massive smiley face and write comments like ‘Well done Jon’ or ‘Sounds like a really interesting week.’ She’d speak to me during class, telling me the things she had learnt from me. Then, when I was older, I’d ask questions in school that teachers had never been asked before, hadn’t even thought to wonder about themselves. Some liked me for it, some just wished I would be quiet. But I lived for that feeling of learning something and just… needing to know more. Needing to see it from every unseen perspective. I loved talking about it, teachers who liked me would let me linger behind after class to share my thoughts. And then university. You’re right, Martin, I am a posh twat sometimes because at some point I would have killed to work in some of the buildings I studied in. Massive libraries and lecture halls. I’d daydream about standing in front of a hundred hungry minds, looking good and smart and professional in these beautiful, impressive buildings and sharing the things that I knew, encouraging others to share and ask and learn and know. So I wanted to teach. But I didn’t. More than one pull to the institute led me to working there and well… (pause) I missed out on so much Martin. So much. For a long time I didn’t know who I was. I didn’t know where the archivist ended and Jon began. I wasn’t even sure if there was a division anymore. I-I couldn’t just… give that fate to someone else. Just pass it on because I was done with it. I’m sorry Martin. I really am. But I’m also sorry for the life that was taken from me- the one I didn’t get to live.
Martin
Jon I-
Jon
You can be angry with me Martin. Lord knows you have ever right to be. But please, one day, love me again despite what I’ve done.
Martin
Love you again? Jon I still- I still love you. Of course I still love you. But I’m angry and hurt as well. You’re right, I do have a right to be. So I will be, for a while.
Jon
So you don’t… hate me.
Martin
Just come here, Jon.
[Fabric Rustle.]
[Click.]