The Black Hole and the Whisper

Scene 5: The Masks of Support

Stage lit with scattered faces – projected or masked figures, half-smiling, half-turned away. The Scribe stands among them, searching each face in turn. The Companion lingers in the wings, unseen for now.

Scribe (calling out, hopeful):
These were the ones closest to me.
My circle. My confidants.
Surely, they would stand with me,
bear witness to my work,
hold me up when I faltered.

Faces turn toward him – some smiling faintly, others blank. None step forward.

Scribe (voice cracking):
But when the book came,
they did not come.
When I stretched out my hands,
they did not take them.
Polite silence in place of support.
Masks, not friends.

Companion (entering, voice measured):
So you expected applause?
Were you not the one who said you wrote without demand?

Scribe (angrily):
Expectation is human!
Betrayal is more than silence.
It is absence where presence was owed.

Faces begin to fade, one by one, until only shadows remain.

Scribe (whispering, bitter):
I called them friends.
But they wore masks.
Smiled, nodded,
and withdrew when it cost them nothing.

Companion (stepping close, quietly):
And what bargain do you strike now?

Scribe (hesitant, heavy):
To disengage.
To draw the cloak of indifference tighter.
To say: if they do not care,
then why should I?
A ceasefire with the world,
to protect the last shreds of my heart.

Companion (firm, cutting):
And yet-
that is the devil’s whisper again.
To turn betrayal into excuse,
to make absence your armour.

Scribe (softly, resigned):
Not every smile hides loyalty;
not every silence is support.

Stage dims. A faint clatter echoes in the dark, coins falling – heralding the next bargain.