**\[Click]** *Inside a nondescript house.* *A ticking antique clock reverberating in a large room; the distant sound of a surf against shore.* *Leather and wood creaks as MARTIN shuffles and fidgets in a chair.* *Hissing static starts.* *When Martin speaks, his voice echoes the smallest bit.* ### MARTIN **\[Pleasant]** Oh! Hello. *He lets out a little laugh, unsure.* …What are you? *The static fades out.* Do I – Do I know you? Heh- Can’t – *The floorboards creak as he shifts.* Can’t tell through the – fog, sometimes. *Plastic and mic noises as Martin handles the tape recorder.* You feel – n, not friendly. Familiar? Shape of you in my hand. I talk to you, don’t I? We talk. What do we – do we say? **\[Under his breath]** Can’t quite – *The chair creaks as he moves.* **\[Back to normal]** Th-There’s something there, but I just can’t see it. Anyway. *He lets out a slight sigh.* Ni-Nice to sit down. Take a load off. *The chair scrapes on the floorboards.* Not a comfortable chair, of course. No-None of them are, here. I’ve – I’ve been all over this house looking for a nice place to sit. **\[Unsure]** I – think. Is that what I was looking for? *He remembers himself.* Um. Ei-Either way, this place is so huge… so… empty, by the time you find your way to anything at all, you’ve probably earned a sit-down. *He lets out another little, unsure laugh.* *The chair creaks again.* I don’t think there’s anyone else here, I – *Another creak.* Pro- Probably never has been. Not that I can remember, at least. *A rushing sound begins to pick up.* Is it my house? It must be, right? It must be, ‘cause – why else would I be here? You don’t just wander around other people’s houses alone; you don’t just… You don’t just… just wander. **\[Under his breath, smaller]** No... **\[Dazed]** What, what was I saying? I don’t… *Another creak of the chair as MARTIN handles the recorder.* **\[To the recorder]** Do you remember? You store them, I suppose. Keep, keep stuff locked up in those little wheels. That’s memory, isn’t it? *Some movement.* Computers used to be like you. Big, whirring things with loads of – uh, tape. They called that memory. But it’s not – not, not really; it’s just numbers and… *Some movement.* Maybe you’re blank as well, same as me. Are you? Can you remember what I’ve already said, – *More movement.* – cause I – I, I can’t; the words keep creeping away? Like – like, like when I try to think back, to focus – um, focus on – um – *The static starts again.* ### MARTIN **\[Pleasant surprise]** Oh, oh! Oh. Hello! *The static fades out.* *MARTIN grabs the recorder.* What are you; I can’t quite – see. You feel – familiar. Do I know you, do we talk? I hope so. *He lets out a small laugh.* It’s good to talk with people. It’s – hm. *Beat.* Oh, I, I met someone; did I tell you? *He moves.* He’s – I, I don’t know. I like him. He doesn’t like me, though. Not really. I don’t blame him. I don’t like me sometimes, and I am me. Plus he’s – he’s my, my boss? Is that right? E, Ei, Either way, it’s probably for the best. Wouldn’t really be appropriate[^1]. You don’t need to worry; I’m not doodling his name on my desk or anything. Heh- His uh – his – his, um. His… name… Wait. *The chair squeaks.* Wait, what is his name? **\[Distressed]** I don’t – **\[Increasingly distressed, sharper]** Why, wha– Why can’t I remember his name? His, his face, I don’t – *MARTIN gets up from the chair; his unsure footsteps on the floorboards echo; he heads towards the shore sounds.* **\[Agitated]** Wh-Where am I? This, This isn’t my house! H-Hello? I- I don’t like it here. I can’t see anything with all this – *He pushes back a curtain.* – fog; this – this is nothing out the windows, and it’s, it’s so cold. *The rushing sound increases in volume.* **\[Shivering]** The fireplace is dead and the curtains… there are mirrors but no… No. Not mirrors. Someone’s standing in them but I don’t – *He takes a step closer.* – I don’t know who. That face, who is… who is that? **\[Quiet]** I need to sit down. *He walks to find a chair, his breaths coming slightly shakier and faster, though still soft in volume.* *The chair creaks as he sits in it.* *The clock ticks at a slightly different pace.* *A brief peak in static.* ### MARTIN **\[Pleasant surprise]** Oh! Oh, hello. *He lets out a small laugh.* Who are you, then? Hmm. Hm. Can’t quite make out a – A tape recorder? *He turns the recorder around in his hands.* Heh- Can’t remember the last time I used a – *The chair creaks.* Hm. Blast from the past! Familiar… Well, it’s good to have someone to talk to. Otherwise you can go strange, you… I, I don’t… Hm. What was I saying? This… this chair, – *He groans and the chair scrapes on the floorboards.* – really isn’t comfortable. I had a look-round for better places to sit – did I tell you that? – but it’s, it’s big house. My house, I think. Heh- Nowhere comfortable. So I suppose this is it. It is my house, isn’t it? Must be. Must be. I don’t really remember. Just… so tired. It’s hard to think when you’re this tired, hard to… to focus. No, no, no, no, not, not tiredness, just the – fog. I – can’t see through the fog, and it – it smells! *Some movement.* *MARTIN sniffs.* What – *Another sniff.* What is that? Damp, sort of – chemical, almost. *A larger sniff.* I don’t like it. Why does my house smell like that, I – It can’t be my house. *He starts walking again.* No, no, no; my – *He sniffs.* – my – *Another sniff.* My house doesn’t smell like this! My house smells… s-smells different. *Beat.* It’s sort of weird, isn’t it? Smell can trigger memory so… powerfully. Like this one, it, it makes me think of – *He takes a long sniff.* Hm. *Another sniff.* Hm. I – I don’t know. Is it a person? A place? No, no; people – people don’t smell like that. Besides, I’m all alone. *Another creak of the chair.* I’m all – *He moves.* **\[Distressed]** I’m all alone. Why – Why am I alone? I, I shouldn’t be alone; there should be people! It’s such a – such a big house, my house – there mu– there must be other people! People who care! Unless... *MARTIN gets up and walks slowly and unsurely.* Hello? *He keeps going. A door creaks open, as he walks into another room; a ticking clock is here, with the same tick-tock sound as the one in the first room.* He-Hello? *He keeps walking.* All these rooms… I think they’re the same as this one. I, I don’t know why I’d decorate my house like this; I don’t like it! I like – Wh– I, It’s not my home; it can’t be. Do I have a home? This – this place feels like it’s all for me, I think, but I don’t – *He sits in a chair that sounds identical to the previous one.* **\[Shaky]** I don’t like it here. It – It can’t be cheap living here, house this big. I really need a job. **\[Animated]** Started lying on my CV; did I tell you that. I didn’t want to. I-I mean I tried to be a good person, but we’re really up against it, and I – and I – I know they’re going to find me out; I just know it. **\[Anxious]** They’ll ask something, or I’ll say something stupid, and then – and then they’ll know. They’ll know, and then – *He exhales shakily.* **\[Under his breath]** Oh... **\[Louder, agitated]** What am I doing; I can’t afford a place like this! I need money, not just for me, but for – for… **\[Calmer]** Wait. Wait, no; it is – it is just me, isn’t it? It’s always been just me. *The static rises again.* No… No, no, no, that’s not right! I-I’m not alone, no! Not alone, there’s – there’s – J-J-Jon? Jon. **\[Actually remembering]** Jon! Jon! *MARTIN stands and takes a few steps.* *The static fades out.* Jon? Jon, I’m here; can you hear me? I can’t – it’s – it’s this place, I – wh- where are you; I need you, I nee– *He lets out a humourless laugh.* – I need you, Jon. *A discordant tone plays in the background.* Where – Where did you go. *A couple more steps.* **\[Near tears]** Please don’t leave me. I can’t do this on my own. Please. *He sobs.* I’m not enough on my own. Alone. **\[Small, shaky]** All. All alone. *He takes a shaky, crying breath.* *He walks to the chair and sits down.* *The static rises again.* ### MARTIN **\[Pleasant surprise]** Oh. Oh, hello. What’s this? *The static ends.* Wow, retro! What are you up to, little buddy; just – listening? That’s okay. It’s nice to have someone to talk to. *The chair creaks.* Maybe you can keep a better handle on things than me. It’s this fog, you know? Makes it so hard to see. **\[Quick, quiet]** What was I saying? **\[Back to normal]** I feel like there’s somewhere I need to be. But no, no; this is my house; huh, where else would I need to be? I just – *The chair scrapes against the floorboards.* I wish I had comfortable chairs. *He inhales.* Would be nice to have somewhere relaxing to sit down. Rest a bit when Mum’s asleep. Did I tell you about my mum? *A creak.* **\[Half-whispering]** We should try to keep quiet actually, you know. Make sure not to wake her. The drugs – they, they hit her pretty hard, but – if you make enough noise and she wakes up, and – and yeah, it’s not good. **\[With bravado]** Not a good time! *He lets out an unhappy laugh.* I-I know she loves me; I-I know she does. But that doesn’t make it easy. There’s always so much to do, and I’m always forgetting something. I do try, you know? I mean, I really try to keep on top of things, but I’m just – I’m just so forgetful, and she – she – *The chair creaks.* Sometimes I wonder if I forget things on purpose. Easier not to think about them, I guess. Easier to just let them… slip away. They can’t hurt you if you don’t think about them; they can’t shout at you or call you names. **\[Emotional]** And I, I always think of Mum’s face when I’ve done something wrong, and I – **\[Sobering]** Wait. *The chair creaks.* Wait, her face, I – I don’t – I don’t remember her face. Did – Did she have a face? **\[Berating]** D-Don’t – Don’t be stupid, Martin; of course she had a face! **\[Agitated]** You just can’t remember it ‘cause – *His breathing gets heavier.* ‘Cause you’re a bad son; because you left you left her to rot in – *Beat.* **\[Despondent]** Wh-Where did she go? She didn’t like it; I didn’t like it. S-Smelled. It smelled like – *He sniffs.* Where am I? This isn’t right; I shouldn’t be here; I should be – Somewhere, someone that – there, there are people who trust me, people who love me, so why can’t I remember them? Why, why can’t I see them? Sasha. Yeah! Yeah, yeah, I, I remember; there was – there was Sasha! I can see her face! No – no, wait, no; not, not Sasha, some – something else. The thing that isn’t Sasha, that, that took her, and, and made her – something else, and her – face, her – her face, I can still see it; it’s – laughing. Telling me that there’s – there’s nobody else. I’m alone. The only people who could ever stand to be around me are gone. Even from my mind. **\[Tearful]** Where is this place? So cold. And I can’t see anything through all this – fog. *He hums, trying to think.* I must have – left the window open. **\[Stuttering]** L, L-L, Let the fog in. Oh, my heating bills must be through the roof, stupid; can’t afford that! At least I’ve got a job now; did I tell you I’ve got a job? **\[Back to normal]** I mean, the interview was weird, I-I don’t really remember the man who talked to me. Just his eyes. They stared at me. Th-Through me, and – and I knew _he_ knew what I had done. _God._ I was so scared – **\[More upbeat]** – but then he smiled, and shook my hand. What was his name? He said I ‘had the job’, that he ‘looked forward to working with me’. I was still so scared – *He lets out a small laugh.* – I could barely move my arm. I was so terrified I’d let him down. *The static is once again starting to rise.* And then I met Jon, and I – *Realisation hits him.* Jon – Jon! Jon! Jon? Jon, I’m here! *The static fades out.* Jon, I-I think I’m lost, I think – I don’t – **\[Losing grasp, whispering]** Jon. *Another creak of the chair. The clock ticks on.* *The static picks up yet again.* ### MARTIN **\[Pleasant surprise]** Oh, he-hello! What are you? *The static fades out.* Huh. Didn’t even know I had a tape recorder. Do you still work, or… *He checks the recorder.* Yeah, seems like you’re running all right. *Beat.* Hey, I should do some poetry! You could give it a little, little bit of that funky lo-fi goodness! All the cool poets love a bit of tape hiss, right? Maybe find somewhere different to sit, though. *The chair scrapes on the floorboards.* **\[Under his breath]** Hate these chairs. Don’t even know where I got them. Did I tell you I’ve been writing poetry? N, Nothing much really, just fragments, thoughts. Haven’t written anything like it since I was a teenager – *He lets out a small laugh.* – but my new job’s a lot, and – I don’t know. Something about that place, it just – it makes me feel weird? The– the sort of weird you just have to get out somehow. Maybe I – Maybe I should do some open mics, or something. Just for me, really, I think. Oh! You – You want to hear some? Heh- *He moves around.* Uh – yeah! Yeah, okay, sure; well, I can – No. No, wait, no that – *More movement.* Hm, they’re gone; that’s weird. I thought – I, I can feel them, but the words, they just – just wash away. Hm. I, I m – I suppose that’s quite poetic actually, isn't it, but – *He sighs.* There's... Nothing else there. I don’t like this place. *He exhales.* It’s so cold, and, and the logs in the fireplace are damp from the mist. I don’t know how I’d even light them, and they – they smell really bad, like they’re wet dirt. Makes me think of – hm. When I was nine, my grandad died. Did I tell you that? I went to the funeral, and the coffin was so – *He lets out a small laugh.* – shiny. It was already sealed. But on top there was a photo of a – young man. Someone who looked almost like my grandad, but – it, it wasn’t him. It wasn’t… finished? Not yet. No, and – and I suddenly began to panic, because I was trying to remember what he looked like, his, his face, but I couldn’t do it. And I knew I’d never see him again. He loved me and I couldn’t even remember his face! *His breathing turns heavy.* It was – It was a horrid, drizzly morning, that day, and they put him in the ground and he – he smelled like earth. Cold, damp soil. *A creak of the chair.* What was I saying? Ah – S, Sorry – *He exhales.* *The chair scrapes as he adjusts his position.* It’s just this chair, it’s so hard to concentrate when you’re uncomfortable, isn’t it? *He sighs.* *The chair creaks some more.* *Another rise of static.* ### MARTIN Now, I think – Hey, hang on. Where did you come from? Tape recorder. Heh, what, you want me to give you a statement, I – *The static grows louder.* **\[Flat]** But why. The Eye has won. It can already see everything; it wouldn’t need a – w- wouldn’t need a – *The static fades out.* **\[Stumbling]** Well it’s just, nice to talk to someone, I guess. No one real ever really listens to me anyway. Oh, they nod and respond and say ‘No, Martin’, or ‘Not now, Martin’, or ‘Leave it, Martin –’ but, funny thing is – **\[Falsely bright]** I didn’t ask them to do anything! Just wanted to see if they needed a hand. *He lets out a humourless huff.* Is that me? **\[Unsure]** Is – Is that me? Martin? Martin. Maartin. **\[Closer to Jon’s pronunciation]** Martin. Doesn’t sound right. But who else would I be? Hm, whoever owns this house, I guess. It certainly doesn’t seem like the kind of place that somebody called 'Maartin' would live. Martin. It feels like a small name. One that wants to be warm and happy. Not like here. *Another creak.* You know, I’ve wandered around all these rooms, and – they all just make me feel alone. They scare me. Even when I find someone else, I feel alone. Did I tell you? I – found someone else, wandering around. They were all – thin and grey. Faded. Like they’d been here for ages. I think they’d been – crying, but it’s so hard to tell through the fog. I tried to talk to them, but it was just – just difficult! I asked who they were, and they – looked at me like they had no idea what I was talking about. “What’s your name?” I said, “Your name? You must have a name!” but they just – shrugged, and I – and – *He moves.* And they gestured at me. Like they wanted to know my name, and I – th– I couldn’t tell them! I couldn’t remember! “Is this your house?” I asked, and they said, they said yes. But – then they stopped, and shook their head. And, and then they started to laugh. Quietly, for a bit, and then they cried. And they wouldn’t stop. I – I – **\[Emotional]** They asked me who they were, if there was anyone looking for them. If there was anybody left who even cared, but I – I didn’t know. I, I didn’t know, and I – **\[Shaky, tearful]** I ran away – I had to run away! *He sobs.* I, I had to go and have a sit-down, okay? I just – *The chair scrapes on the floorboards.* I just wish I had thought to buy some nicer chairs. Still. Not like I’ve got guests coming, is it? *He takes a few shaky breaths.* The house is empty, and, and honestly? I – I can’t think of anyone in the world who would care if I lived or died. *The clock ticks on.* **\[Sobbing, quiet]** I-I-I’m scared. I think this fog is doing something to me; I can’t – *Movement.* I’m losing myself, and I – and I don’t know if I mind? Maybe I deserve it. *He takes a shaky breath.* So much of what’s behind the fog hurts. So much of it just makes me wanna curl up with pain and embarrassment and – Maybe the fog’s here because I want it here. Is that why I opened the windows? Maybe I asked the fog to come. *Beat.* No. No, no – no, no, no, that’s not true, I – I remember! Hundreds, thousands of lost souls, wandering the halls. Hollow memories, with eyes full of tears. I’ve seen them. **\[Shaky]** They’re all trying to remember. T-To recall, to picture someone, _anyone_ who loves them, and their hearts are all full of _fear_. Afraid that those people are gone forever. That maybe – maybe they never existed at all. **\[Agitated, distressed]** Why am I here? I-I fell behind. I was – I was too slow, and, and, and the fog caught up; I was following. Al-Always following, never leading. Never leading. Why did he leave me behind? D-Did he? Who are – Wh– Who are you? Who am –? *The static starts again.* **\[Remembering]** J-J-Jon. Jon, Jon. Yes. Jon, I remember him. *He exhales shakily.* I need to, I need to keep him here. If he can find me, I – he, he knows enough; surely he _Knows_ enough to find me, but I can’t – *The static fades out.* **\[Agitated, struggling]** If I forget him, if, if I forget – me – maybe – maybe there’s nothing left to Know. No one to find. *MARTIN gets up from the chair.* Talking helps. Thank God you’re here to listen; Just, just don’t stop talking. You – You are Martin Blackwood. Yes. You, you didn’t choose to be here. Jon is coming. **\[Stronger]** I am Martin Blackwood, and I am not lonely anymore– *MARTIN strikes his hand to his chest several times.* I am not lonely anymore– **\[Emotional, with effort]** I want to have friends; I – no, I have friends. I-I’m in love. Heh, I am in love, and I will not forget that; I will not forget. **\[Stronger]** I am Martin Black– [^1]: Described as "adorkable" on the official transcript on the [Rusty Quill transcript page](https://rustyquill.com/transcripts/).