Birds, Science, Magic

Vello is upstairs, looking out through the window. His window.

The Alps! The beautiful Jura Mountains.

Birds are visible dots in the distance.

Perhaps they are bee eaters, terns, little ringed plovers. Perhaps a stone curlew, a black woodpecker, a raven, a short-toed eagle.

He thinks of the things he has done in this room, besides birdwatching.

The words, written and spoken.

David appears at the door with a dusty bottle.

I've just been down in your cellar, says David.

Good man! says Vello. I'll find us some glasses.

It's not a bad drop. Champagne, hundreds of years old, a little flat, very sticky and yellow.

Vello leans back in a comfy old chair. David leans back in another.

I wrote my best things in here, says Vello.

Ah, says David. Candide.

Of course Candide, says Vello. But also Irene.

Irene?

Oh yes Irene, says David. That was.....?

Very popular, says Vello.

But how did it go? asks David. Oh wait...... it's coming back to me. Goodnight Irene. Lovely song.

Indeed, says Vello, but no thanks to me. My Irene is a play. Unable to marry the man who assassinates her husband, she kills herself.

And is the song in it? asks David.

Of course not, says Vello. It's a tragedy, in the classic tradition. Pour me another.

He holds out his glass. David pours him another.

They both look out of the window as various alpine dots fly by.

........

Terence waits outside the Post Office.

The Post Office is shut.

Someone lands beside him. A Parrot-Boy.

Are you waiting for something? asks the Parrot-Boy.

Yes, says Terence. My piss hat. Are you waiting?

No, says the Parrot-Boy. I'm not waiting.

If you stay, I'll watch over you, says Terence.

I'm a Parrot-Boy, says the Parrot-Boy. I'll watch over YOU.

No need, says Terence. I'm a prince. I do magic.

Princes don't do magic, says the Parrot- Boy.

I mean science, says Terence, quickly.

.........

Did you escape Segolène? asks Vello, after a prolonged silence.

Yes, says David. She's off looking for Terence.

Terence! says Vello. I didn't know he was missing.

He is missing, says David.

Pity, says Vello. Not much we can do about that.

David looks doubtful.

........

Night falls.

In the bed, made up with sheets that are crumbling, Vello dreams about Madame du Châtelet.

Emilie.

What a woman she was. Scientist and mathematician, friend and colleague and lover.

And her husband didn't mind.

They used to Newtonise together. Or so they called it.

Ah.... the delightful dreamy landscapes of science........

David, in another bed made up with sheets that are crumbling, dreams he is singing in a high tenor voice.....goodnight Irene...... the audience cheers and whistles.

......

In the town, Terence keeps watch over the Parrot-Boy, until the Parrot-Boy rises and hovers to keep watch over him.