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 Act 4 Scene 3 Visiting the home of a homeless popstar

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Act 4 Scene 3 Visiting the home of a homeless popstar Empty
PostSubject: Act 4 Scene 3 Visiting the home of a homeless popstar   Act 4 Scene 3 Visiting the home of a homeless popstar I_icon_minitimeThu Feb 12, 2015 5:32 pm

Cecilia is sat next to Miss Lookaway in the back of Mr Hands’ car which is making its way down the Western avenue,  out of London.

Cecilia: Where are we going to anyway?
Mr Hands: Why, we’re going to see my dear friend Naomi Spence of course.
Cecilia: Yes I know that, but where does she live?
Mr Hands: Live? Oh my dear child, Naomi Spence she doesn’t live anywhere, she’s an international pop-singing sensation, the world is her home. But for your information she is presently sojourning at rather a nice country house just inside Buckingham, and that is where we shall find her this afternoon.
The car pulls up outside a Palladian country mansion, in the gloom of early evening with a mist rolling in, the house appears to be more like a pagan temple and the double colonnaded façade seems to suggest strongly the temple of Queen Hatshepsut, if you squint.
Cecilia: Wow, what is this crazy place?
Mr Hands: This Cecilia is Felchester Abbey: the magic doorway to another world.
Cecilia: I’m a bit old for fairy tales Mr Hands.
Mr Hands: One is never too old for fairy tales, particularly when they are true. This particular fairy tale young Cecilia is the story of a remarkable man who changed the world and became one of the greatest free thinkers of his, or any generation. As befits a fairy-tale, it centres on a member of the chivalrous orders, a knight by the name of Sir Reginald Runford and his mission to destroy superstition and stricture and restore the light of liberty to this country and many others. This brave knight then became the very first Grand Master of my own order.
Cecilia: Your order?
Mr Hands:  caught out  Oh, well, I belong to this special club, we all do, successfully, important people. One day I’m sure you’ll be a member too. Your friend Naomi Spence is a member of our woman’s chapter, the Seamstresses.  My order is called the The Tailors. We shape and cut the accoutrements of civilization itself.
Cecilia: Tailors huh? Stitching people up?
Miss Lookaway gives Cecilia a look.
Mr Hands: Now now  Cecilia, if you’re going to cynical then we can’t be friends. Friends like the same things don’t they? I’m just like you really Cecilia behind this silly old man’s body, I like pop-music and being with young people just like you do. I also enjoy my little Tailor’s club, call it a gang if you want. A tough gang that nobody can mess with or tell what to do, in fact we’re the ones who tell people what to do. We’re the bosses. We can do anything.
Cecilia: sweetly That’s nice.
Mr Hands: Nice isn’t really the word my dear, but we’re not just here, but in the next world.
Cecilia: Next world?
Mr Hands: Higher dimension, the astral plane, have you heard of such things?
Cecilia: I heard that geometrically, all dimensions are just like tessellations of the previous dimension. The true source reality is in the first dimension, the first minute single point in space,   something like the universe before the big bang. Everything which then came out of the universe were only tessellations of this single point in space. And so our universe and all the matter are just 'reflections' of a single infinitely dense and information rich, point in space, rotated around an infinite axis and spread out into the universe.  But consciousness is in dimension 0, it can experience the dimensions but does not exist within them.
Mr Hands: raising his eyebrow quizically Oh? Who taught this parrot to speak? Smiles to himself. So what about those other dimensions? Those other  dimensions? Those other parallel universes where there is another you and me having a similar conversation to this one, at this very instant, except in the parallel universe, there’s a girl called Cecilia Green and she’s very eager to be best friends with the debonair and powerful Mr Hands. What do you think of that Cecilia, would you Cecilia Green, in this dimension admit that Mr Hands is debonair and powerful?
Cecilia: You’re quite wrong. The universe is actually ordered, as Einstein said, God does not play dice. Infinite Earths would make no sense, it would assume that the universe is chaotic and random, but it isn't, the fact that life exists at all is beyond all probabilistic calculation. Sounds like whoever told you that is trying to create a sense of alienation from your  own dimension and reality and confusion about others. Garbage science.
Mr Hands: visibly surprised Is that right Cecilia? Looking at her strangely How did you work all this out?
Cecilia: Also momentarily caught out Oh, me dad was watching it on the telly and I just remembered what they said. I don’t quite understand it really. Smiles a sweet smile
Mr Hands: Well now Cecilia, I’ve been accused of many things in life, but noone’s ever said I’m alienated from my own dimension. I have these things on good authority. It would be rather nice if you could accuse me of being debonair and powe… cut short
Cecilia: in her best proletarian pose Daybo what?
Mr Hands: With an exaggerated French accent ‘Deboanair’ to have a good air.
Cecilia: As opposed to what? Having a bad wind?
Mr Hands: Shaking his head You really are a rough old stone aren’t you Cecilia. We’ll have to work on you a bit, make you a bit more square otherwise you won’t fit in at all. Considering In fact we could just go back to London now if you’re not going to make at least a small effort to be amenable. An actress lives their life behind a mask you know. How successful do you think Angelina Jolie would be if she went to the UN  and did nothing but talk about trumping while rolling her eyes and smirking to herself all the time? Mr Hands appears to be getting himself worked up.
Cecilia: measuring Mr Hands then adopting a mollifying tone Oh don’t say that Mr Hands, I’m sorry, I can’t help it, it’s the way I been brought up. I’ll try to fit in honestly I will Mr Hands. I’m sorry I was disrespectful, I really want to meet PlAttitude. Looking disarmingly at Mr Hands I’m not very good with sophisticated people.
Mr Hands: Well Cecilia, that’s better. And so you shall. This way.  But this Cecilia is a little irreverent for this evening’s meeting. For tonight you will change your name to Kora.
Cecilia Stares at him. Mr Hands smiles.
Mr Hands: Cecilia look over there!  He points to one of the arcades on the second floor where what appeared to be a man with a strange long snout-like mask was capering and waving his arms in the air while raising his legs from side to side. Far from being a figure of mirth this character was profoundly menacing and Cecilia suddenly felt cold.
Mr Hands: breaking her attention Cecilia!  Look here, he produces a small book which he hands to her. Cecilia opens it and sees an image of a strange, non human face of such unpleasant strangeness that she felt lightheaded. When she looks up she sees that Mr Hands and Miss Lookaway are now wearing a mask of the very same horrible and inexplicable strange image.
Cecilia can hardly get a word out before what is just about recognizable as a single eye in the mask starts to flicker with light and make a strange high pitch modulated buzzing sound.
A sudden film seems to come over Cecilia’s eyes and she stares blankly and placidly  at Mr Hands wearing his mask.
Mr Hands: Don’t worry Kora, we’ll get you one too. But first you’d better get out of those clothes and be dressed to meet the Queen.
Cecilia: Is the Queen here?
Mr Hands: Oh yes Kora, the Queen is always here. This way.
Kora is pulled In a trance across the lawn and into the house which suddenly lights up with fire as a hundred oil torches are simultaneously ignited. Her clothes are removed by Miss Lookaway and she is dressed in a blue robe. She will rest now.
Mr Hands: Now you shall meet Naomi Spence as promised, except we know her as Songbird. You shall also know her as such
As they go through the house and enter a great stone amphitheatre with a small entrance way, from out of which comes a bawling Johnny St Vile.
Johnny St Vile: Rubbing his hands with glee and clowning. All these lovely girls for us Mr Hands. What a lucky old man I am!
Miss Lookaway: under her breath dirty
Johnny turns to her suddenly: Coarsely  Oh yeah princess? Think you’re still clean eh? I’ve got a job for you princess. His eyes flash momentarily black and he instantly hypnotises her. Come with me.

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