Friday, April 5, 2013

The Wapshot Whatever at Manhattan Rep Theatre, The Secret Lives of Programs.






 Manhattan Rep Theare presents The Wapshot Whatever by Susan I. Weinstein Dec. 15th and 16th, part of Playwrights' Showcase, 1/2 hour excerpt.
Random Dialler Worm, circuit boards, the inhuman souls of an Off-shore Server & a Rogue Program bundled together. The secret life of your devices? Ever wonder what happens, after you have shut down? 

Sparks fly, when a Rogue meets an Off-Shore Server. Then there's a Dialing worm, App book, Data miner and more in this unnatural play. 2 performances only. Below is excerpt.
The Wapshot Whatever

Setting:  Stage lit with white light.  A vaguely human appearing form in black coat, covered in computer wires. As it walks and rants, small lights go on amid electronic pops.
Time:  Infinite now

                                                                ROGUE PROGRAM
      The wapshot legend has broken down.  For whatever am I going to the office, barely paid so swolf's at the door blowing me down--chomping mouth saying you can't make it. Try as you might little piglet, you're another sausage for the gin mill, the spirit mill.

ROGUE  daintily sits crosses legs, sits on floor.

       We want authenticity in pre-packaged tinsley lives that have no real people in them. We want escape. Celeb glamour, see pretty people have flaws unlike you whose whole life is a flaw. So says….

ROGUE wonders answer to this and stands to ponder.

       Have not, whap nut. Am I a homeless geek, a sexy disadvantaged youth, a sad-eyed girl from the homelands?  I am also no corporate executive or a hybrid working girl, middle-aged woman, muse. Whatever!  Provocateur. Dark panicky incoherence of a rogue program in the universal computer.  A home in every port.  My sweethearts upload me and never know I look into the hearts of their on-line anxieties, searches, and blogs pursuing content. I'm the nebulous nothing of information technology when everything is present.

ROGUE sighs sadly

       I love a little fool server off the Aussie coast. She serves island hoppers, giving weather warnings, hurr and him-a-caines coming to a shore near them. She's a dear one…
Rogue pushes switches on himself. Out comes a  petite server program, wearing a white suit with black blinking wires.  She talks in proud bursts.

                                                                    SERVER PROGRAM

      Aruba, the Canaries, Singapore, Florida Keys, Sardinia, Manhattan Island.  Day or night I'm the bellweather, the urgent voice with updates on Calvin or Marie, Andrew and Elizabeth. I see the Eye approaching, gangway, flee cars, houses. Find cellars!  Shivery, underground they heed me or, or too late clinging to palms, losing grip, are blown out to sea. .

                                                       
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