Dancing with Ginger

Synopsis:

This is a story about a meeting of two generations from two different worlds. Fredrick is a young man who has come down to earth from a space station to see if the colony he lives in could return to earth and survive. He is confronted by Ginger, an old woman and the only human to survive an environmental holocaust some sixty years previous. They are two very different people; she is as wild and wary as a feral cat and he is as naïve and as vulnerable as he thinks he is invincible. Just as they begin to win each other’s confidence Fredrick tells Ginger, as a matter of fact, that his brief is to get as much information from her as there is to get and then kill her. Even so, they come to value each other’s life more than they value their own.

Scene:

The scene is a small clearing within a forest with a big rock or log on which the characters can sit side by side; and a tree with daisies growing at its base over to one side.

Fred: is a futuristic young man who has been artificially conceived in a space station along with others of his generation. He is part of a batch of genetically mapped and shaped test tube babies produced to provide a generation ready to recolonise the earth once it has recovered from an environmental holocaust. Fred has never known the affection of parents and he has a latent individuality that is not part of his genetic map. This individuality is both a strength and weakness in his character. It’s a weakness that allows forbidden emotions to creep into his psyche, and a strength that enables him to realise emotions will reveal the real him. Fred has a superior air about him brought about by his upbringing and his youthfulness but his mind is open. Once his naivety is challenged he is ready and willing to accept new ideas and new ways of thinking.

Ginger: is eighty three years old and the only person to have survived the environmental holocaust. She has lived alone, on earth since that time. She is dressed in thick, sack like clothing, with the same sack like material wrapped around her feet and tied with vine as make-shift shoes. She’s very, very dirty, has long unkempt hair and long blue nails on yellow, weathered hands. Her intelligence and her survival instincts are second to none. Her value of life is what kept her from throwing in the towel before the earth could recover enough to sustain life again. She has a quick wit, a love of literature and although her baby didn’t survive the holocaust she still retains her parental instincts.
Scene 1: Just passing, thought I’d drop in

Somewhere in a forest wilderness a young futuristic man appears as if from nowhere. He’s highly intelligent, full of youthful know-it-all and indestructibility. He’s looking for someone.

Fred: Hello!

Hello!

I know you’re here – somewhere.

After a moment an old woman suddenly appears behind him. Carrying a tree root as a club, she shoulder charges him and bowls him over. And as the young man jumps to his feet she swings the club and he ducks as it passes over his head.

Fred: NO! NO! NO! I’m not going to hurt you.

Ginger: I’d like to see you try.

As she moves in a circle, looking to strike him again, he moves out of her reach. She takes a sudden step forward, swings the club again and he has to duck a second time.

Fred: I just want to talk. You’re the only human on earth.

Ginger: How would you know?

Fred: I’ve scanned.

Ginger: Scanned?

Fred: Yes.

Ginger: If I’m the only one on earth then what are you – an apparition?

Fred: Ha! Very good. And alert mind for your age.

Ginger: My age? And how old do you have to be before you’re not alert, baby face – in your, obviously, superior young mind?

The young man hasn’t got an answer. The woman stops circling and takes a moment to reflect.

Ginger: I forget how old I am.

Fred: I can tell you that.

He holds up his hand and points the palm at her. She raises her club again but he just keeps his distance as he speaks quickly and without lowering his hand.

Fred: (quickly) You’re eighty-three years, seven months, six days and five hours old. I could tell you the minutes and seconds but they would be as inaccurate as quickly as I spoke.

He lowers his hand: she lowers her club and frowns with curiosity.

Ginger: If I’m eighty three, then I won’t quibble about a second or two.

Now the woman steps towards him with her club at the ready but not aiming to strike. He’s still wary and steps back. She studies him, flaring her nostrils and sniffing the air about him.

Ginger: There’s a sweet smell about you.

Fred: Not about you, though.

Ginger: I could be a bit on the nose. I’ll give you that.

Fred: (excited as if it’s a revelation) It’s body odour! That’s what you smell of – real body odour!

Ginger: What sort of weirdo are you?

Fred: I’m not a weirdo, but I can understand how you might think that.

Ginger: You can?

Fred: Yes. No doubt you’ve not seen the likes of me before.

Ginger: The likes of you? And what makes you think you’re so special?

Fred: I’m not special but when was the last time a male raised his hand to you and was able to tell so much.

Ginger: I had a boyfriend once, who couldn’t keep his hands off me. He thought he could read my mind, (she reflects) but then again his brain was in his pants.

Fred: I’m not reading your mind.

Ginger: You’re trying your damnedest to!

Fred: What’s your name?

Ginger: (admonishing) When I was your age it was good manners to introduce yourself first.

Fed: My name is (hesitates) Frederick.

Ginger: Frederick! What sort of a name’s that for a futuristic young crusader like you?

Ginger circles Fred again while he stands perfectly still as if trying to win the confidence of a wild animal.

Fred: You still haven’t introduced yourself.

Ginger: If you’re Fred then I’m Ginger. Now what do you want? And where have you come from?

Scene 2: Is it possible to resettle on earth?

Fred slowly sits on a rock as if trying to ease Ginger’s fears.

Fred: I’ve come from up there; beyond the stratosphere and I want to learn about you.

Ginger: You don’t look like an alien.

Fred: I’m not. I’m human.

Ginger: You just said you were from out in space. And what kind of human can hold his hand in front of someone and do what you did?

Fred: I’m covered in a programmable skin and the fingers of my hands are acting as sensors. Underneath, I’m just the same as you.

Ginger: Huh! I’m just covered in my own stink and my fingers aren’t much use anymore. I don’t think you’re much like me at all, Freddie boy.

Ginger steps a little closer and studies Fred.

Ginger: Why were you looking for me?

Fred: We want to come back to earth and re-colonise.

Ginger is suddenly alert again and moves about as if looking for others who may be out of sight.

Ginger: We! There’s more of you?

Fred: Yes, up there. But I’m here by myself.

Ginger looks at him with a disbelieving eye.

Fred: When the world imploded, all those years ago, a group of people escaped into space. They pulled together all the old space stations and created a colony. Since then we’ve been monitoring the environment, and waiting.

Ginger: And now you think it’s safe to return?

Fred: Once we detected human life-form, you, we knew it was possible.

Ginger: So why aren’t you all here?

Fred: I’ve come just to – introduce us.

Ginger: Why you?

Fred: I volunteered.

Ginger: So, you’re not as smart as the others?

Fred: I have an interest in our origins. I wanted to be the first to come face to face with – you; a generation past.

Ginger: What a disappointment I must be?

Fred: No, not at all.

Ginger: But I don’t even represent my generation. I’m little more than a wild animal.

Fred: I find you infinitely fascinating. (she mocks him by putting on a fake impressed look) You’re nothing like any of us.

Ginger: You mean nobody has B.O.

Fred: We’ve never been exposed to the elements as you have. Weathered as you are, your body fights and beats off an ever changing environment. Just look at the texture of your skin compared to mine.

Ginger looks at herself.

Ginger: Who knows what I’d be like with a programmable skin face-lift?

She pulls her cheeks back and speaks through tight lips.

Ginger: Beautiful even! Give-us-a-kiss!

Fred: I don’t kiss.

Ginger: I don’t blame you.

Fred begins to look around the environment with a superior air about him. All the time Ginger watches him like a wild cat would its prey.

Fred: You’re older than anyone I’ve ever known. You’ve survived the ultimate destruction, and alone, and using only your wits. That’s so very different to our way of life.

Ginger: Don’t you have wits?

Fred: How have you coped?

Ginger: I talk to the trees.

Fred: The trees?

Ginger: Yes! They refused to die and now look; beautiful survivors and from them new born saplings; new generations of life thumbing their noses at human destruction.

Fred: How have you stayed sane all this time?

Ginger: Who says I’m sane? (melodramatic) I might be as mad as a hatter.

Fred: I know you’re sane.

Ginger: If I am sane, then it’s because of my books.

Fred: (excited again) Books – as in paper and pages?

Ginger: That’s what they’re usually made of.

Fred: And you sit and turn the pages?

Ginger: (sarcastically) No, I have a butler to do that. Don’t treat me like an idiot!

Fred: It’s just that I’ve never seen a book. I read literature, but we don’t have books as such, only visual images.

Ginger: I have my collection of books that were mine from childhood.

Fred: (with envy) And you sit alone and read them?

Ginger: No, I read to the trees; the children’s books I read to the saplings and my classics to those as old, and older, than me.

Fred: I’d like to hold and read a real book; feel the weight of it in my hands; turn the pages with my fingers. – “It is a far, far better thing I do now than I have ever done. It is a far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known.” Sydney Carlton in Dickens!

Ginger: I’d never have guessed. “I am perfectly convinced by it that Freddie boy has no defect. He owns it himself without disguise.”

Fred: “I have made no such pretension. I have faults enough, but they are not, I hope, of understanding.” Even if I’m not Mr Darcy and you are not Elizabeth. Jane Austin.

Ginger: Very good, Freddie boy!

He steps towards her. She steps back and swings her club. He ducks again as it whistles over his head.

Ginger: Back off, space cadet!

Fred stops advancing but doesn’t retreat.

Ginger: To you, I must be primitive.

Fred: Once upon a time you were sophisticated.

Ginger: You make me sound like a fairy tail. Go back to your space ship.

Ginger begins to walk away from the young man but he calls her back.

Fred: Wait! What was it like when you first found yourself alone?

Ginger: I can’t remember. You tell me. You already know more about me than I know about myself.

Fred: I can read your biology but I can’t read your mind.

Ginger: Now that’s a relief.

Fred: Tell me what you eat; tell me where you sleep; how do you cope with the loneliness.

Ginger: Like I said, go back to your space mates and leave me be. It was peaceful till you came along.

Fred: Please; let me take something back. At least tell me what you eat.

Ginger: (she exaggerates a frustrated look) Some roots, some leaves, some grasses, some berries. I eat insects when I can catch them. Worms are good. You can suck on a worm for hours.

Fred: Now you’re not being serious.

Ginger: Listen Freddie boy, when you’re hungry you’ll eat anything.

Fred: But sucking on worms?

Ginger: I’m sick of you probing for all my intimate details. You’ll be asking when I lost my virginity next.

Fred: Oh, I can tell you that! It was in...

Ginger: (Embarrassed and interrupting) I know when it was, thank you!

Ginger circles Fred with her club pointed at him as if to keep him at a distance while she studies him.

Ginger: How could you know that anyway?

Fred: It’s just biological detail.

Ginger: There’s nothing biological about losing your virginity, young man. Think about when you lost yours.

Fred looks blank and doesn’t answer.

You haven’t? (Fred looks at her blankly) You got a girlfriend? (Still no response from Fred) Don’t you like girls?

He looks innocently fascinated as she studies him.

Fred: I don’t like or dislike girls. And I haven’t had intimate relations with girls, as you are implying.

Ginger: So, you’ve been sent here to check me out and you haven’t got a clue about the female way of thinking. (She studies him a little more) I’m going to eat you alive!!!

Fred: I’ve researched women of your generation.

Ginger: I’ll still eat you alive.

Fred: You’ve got constipation.

Ginger: Frustrated with his unemotional responses) You’re giving me the shits!

Fred: It’s your diet.

Ginger: It’s your constant questions! If I’d known you were coming I’d have baked a –

Fred: (interrupting) A cake! That’s one of your generation’s old sayings I’ve read.

She rakes her gnarly fingers through her matted scalp and decides to tease him a little.

Ginger: What I really need is a horny eighty-year old male, preferably with poor eyesight.

Fred: Why eighty and with poor eyesight? Wouldn’t I do?

Ginger: Here’s another old saying, Freddie. You don’t need a long neck to be a goose! (Fred looks puzzled) I may not be Miss World but I’ve still got feelings; longings if you know what I mean?

Fred looks puzzled.

You don’t know what I mean, do you? I think you’re a few programs short in that skin of yours.

Fred looks at her with the same confused expression she is coming to know. She enjoys teasing him.

Anyway, if you’ve got a bind old coot up on your space station, looking for love, I wouldn’t mind trying to convince him I’m not half bad. (she flicks back her matted hair like a supermodel) And, preferably someone with his own teeth. As I remember I like to be nibbled.

Scene 3: Hands in Friendship

She moves towards Fred with curiosity. He stands perfectly still and enjoys the thrill of her approach. She stretches out and touches his cheek.

Ginger: How soft!

He looks closely at her gnarled, weathered hands, showing a fascination in their texture and appearance.

Fred: How…

Ginger: Not soft.

Fred: Your skin is split between the joints of your fingers. It must be painful.

Ginger: It’s the time of year.

Fred: And there just isn’t any flexibility.

Ginger: It’s the season.

Fred goes into his pocket and pulls out a small tube of something. Ginger steps back raising her club.

Fred: No, no! It’s just – what you would call – moisturiser. I’m carrying it in case the atmosphere attacks my epidermis. Let me put some on your hands.

Ginger: No thanks.

Fred: It’s not to be feared.

Ginger: Then you use it.

Fred demonstrates by putting some on his hands and showing her.

Fred: Let me just put a little on a finger.

Ginger considers for a moment then offers Fred the hand without the club, but keeping the club at the ready. Fred gently rubs some cream into her finger then tries to take hold of the whole of her hand. She jumps back swinging the club as she does, causing Fred to duck to avoid being struck.

As Fred watches her, she rubs her finger and thumb together, obviously enjoying the feeling the moisturiser brings.

She steps forward again and offers her hand. He rubs in the moisturiser and the more he does the less wary she becomes lowering the club but keeping it at the ready.

Fred: Can I do the other hand?

Ginger puts the club into the other hand and lets Fred apply more moisturise in what becomes a tender moment. When he’s finished he steps back and lets her examine the results.

Ginger: (flexing her fingers) I can bend my fingers.

Fred: Given time your hands will become as soft as mine.

Ginger: (disbelieving) Sure, Freddie.

Fred: This isn’t moisturiser as you knew it. This is a regenerative moleculant. It accelerates the repair and rejuvenation of the epidermis to almost new. Your hands will soon be, (a beaming smile of pride spreads across his face) as soft as a baby’s bum. (feeling good) I’ve learnt that saying too!

Ginger: You’re just an incredible wealth of knowledge.

Fred: (smiles tenderly) No, we’re just so far advanced to what you remember of the human race.

Ginger: Oh, yes?

Fred: I didn’t think it would be like this. I just didn’t think you would be so fascinatingly...

Ginger: Pre-historic?

Fred: Not at all. You’re so wonderfully different to anyone I’ve known.

Ginger: (reaching out to touch his cheek) You’re a bit of a cutie, yourself, I’ll give you that.

Scene 4: A friendship tested.

Ginger and Fred are now at ease enough to sit side by side and relax a little.

Fred: What does a cutie mean?

Ginger: You’re – likeable, loveable even.

Fred: Then you’re a cutie too.

This interaction makes Ginger feel appreciated, something she hasn’t felt for a long time. She soaks up every drop of the moment.

Ginger: I suppose – I could suffer a few more of your questions, if you must, to keep your space mates happy.

Fred: (matter of fact) Thankyou. I was told to find out everything there was about you and then kill you.

Ginger: (Ginger jumps up.) Kill me?

Fred: (unaware of the effect on Ginger) Yes, it’s felt that you would be a burden.

Ginger: A burden?

Fred: On the colony as it settles again - here.

Ginger is now keeping a safe distance with her club at the ready.