Twenty year old Frances was a leading member of a local theatre group on Serenity, the huge space habitat that had a resident population of nearly a million and a quarter persons and served as a rest and recreation, usually referred to as R&R, base for that quadrant of the empire’s military and administrative personnel. At any time there were usually around five million pleasure seeking visitors of every species to be found in the empire to be accommodated and entertained. Her four grandparents and both her parents had been born on Serenity, as had Frances and her three older siblings, and to the family Serenity was not just their home it was their world. Unlike many others who lived on Serenity none of her family had ever felt the need nor the urge to leave Serenity, not even for a brief holiday visit to one of the nearby star systems.
Her grandparents had all been associated with medical matters, both her grandmothers had been emergency first responders, her paternal grandfather still was a physiotherapist and her maternal grandfather had been a child psychiatrist. Her mother was a surgeon and her father an OG [US Ob/Gyn] working at Serenity’s huge infirmary where years before they had met as students. Her siblings had all decided to follow the family interest in health care in various capacities. Frances had no interest in health care. She was different from the rest of her family in many ways, and knew that though she would never wish to settle and live anywhere other than Serenity she would eventually have to visit other places to experience other environments and other cultures. She needed the stimulation and inspiration for her muse because she was not just a drama student she was a writer and more significantly to herself a playwright.
Serenity had opportunity aplenty for those of an artistic or creative bent, for the huge numbers of transient R&R personnel with money to spend demanded entertainment. Not for the citizenry of the modern empire the entertainments recorded from centuries long gone: bars that sold dangerously crude alcoholic beverages, strip clubs, gambling casinos, drug dens and the like many of which left the unwary destitute in a gutter or a back alley where if they were lucky they were still breathing when they came to. True there were discrete establishments that catered for the sexual needs of their clientele, and high quality liquor and other mind altering substances were sold in thousands of bars, some of which offered gambling opportunities carefully regulated to ensure that customers enjoyed the thrill without the risk of penury before their next tour of duty. The citizens of the empire, especially those on R&R, demanded art galleries, full sensory movies depicting culture in all its many forms from their home worlds and those of other species too, sports facilities, dance halls full of healthy, pretty, young ladies, and healthy, pretty young men too, who accommodated their customers for a fair price without giving them anything they wouldn’t really wish to have been given, and by no means last and certainly by no means least old fashioned live theatre that as far as any was aware hadn’t changed much in millennia.
Live theatre with living, breathing players was a hugely popular entertainment, because it was something every known species in the empire could relate to and thus mixed species groups of friends and colleagues could enjoy it together. As a result the dozen or more professional theatres on Serenity, all of which had technicians and players of every imaginable species, were all sold out long in advance for their productions which were staged every day of the year. The professional theatres and other mainstream entertainment venues were sited in the annulus outside the civic centre which occupied the central hub of Serenity and inside the retail annulus which was surrounded by the residential areas with the technical and production facilities out in the boondocks, but there were any number of amateur theatres and smaller entertainment venues all over Serenity. Theatre was what Frances had in mind for a career. She enjoyed acting, but much more she enjoyed writing and directing.
There were any number of well supported amateur theatre groups to be found on Serenity and all competed strenuously to be considered the best, though even the poorest, which were very good, attracted good audiences. In truth most of the so called amateur theatre groups were semi-professional, for though their members drew no salary for their efforts they were self supporting and most, with the aid of readily available grants for a group that had proved itself popular, owned their own custom built theatre rather than renting a generic building which was not really suitable. The few groups in rented buildings were collecting the evidence, audience numbers, for their grant applications. Equally popular were the few genuinely amateur groups that performed mostly short works with minimal props, nor indeed anything else, in the malls and on the thoroughfares of Serenity.
They were always welcome in retail establishments and other entertainment venues and never knew what, where and when they would be performing before they actually started. Most had wide repertoires and would perform any piece on request. It was their spontaneity that made them so exciting. It was appreciated by few that the experience their versions of theatre offered an audience was more akin to an original late sixteenth or early seventeenth century Shakespearean experience than any other available. Most of Serenity’s actors and actresses of all species had been members of such groups for at least a season. Frances had joined one that often performed in her mum’s favourite retail mall at the age of five and had remained with them till she’d turned twelve. It was an ironic twist on theatre’s long history, that most of her early parts had been playing boys, for in Shakespeare’s day all female parts were played by men or boys for it was forbidden for women and girls to take to the stage.
Frances, an undergraduate drama student at the Serenity University of Arts, the other university was the Serenity University of Stem, had written and was currently directing a modern day Shakespearean tragedy. She was familiar with the entire works of Shakespeare, and much analysis of his works too, for all was available, like everything ever produced by humans and many other species too, on the databloc, the vast, spatially diversified, self maintaining, biosynthetic intelligence that was available to all citizens of the empire regardless of their age, but she’d concluded much of the analysis was puerile nonsense written by persons who merely like to see their words written down.
Before embarking on her writing Frances had reread Shakespeare’s entire works several times from her most prized possession, a facsimile nineteenth century printed edition of The Complete Works of William Shakespeare that her parents had had printed and bound for her as a coming of age present on her eighteenth birthday. She’d long since no longer required the companion volume, available on the databloc, that translated Shakespeare’s words into Meld, the lingua franca that had centuries ago become the official and diplomatic language of all the varied species that inhabited the empire and cooperated to maintain prosperity and peace for all there, for she could read Shakespearean English as easily as Meld. Whilst researching into the matter she’d considered deeply what it was that made a work quintessentially Shakespearean.
She’d concluded that the coining of new words and phrases, acute observation of human behaviour especially human foibles, weaknesses and frailties were merely some of his key attributes, but ones she wished to incorporate into her work. In the main she concluded it was his mastery of the language and the tight nature of his dialogue that was the most important issue, not an unnecessary word included and nothing that mattered to further the audience’s understanding of events left out, and of course where required a sense of humour and a light touch when dealing with those foibles, weaknesses and frailties.
When Professor James Morcambe asked the class to write a fifteen minute tragedy in the style of a bygone era of their choice as part of their course Frances’ head was so full of issues concerning the dress rehearsals of her play that all she could manage to come up with was a highly abridged extract from a lengthy scene in her play. It wasn’t in her opinion a particularly good piece of work to submit because it centred on the love sonnet declaimed by Germain to Marguerite before he became aware she was trans, which whilst good in its own right lacked the context to achieve all it was capable of. However, given everything else that was going on in her life outside the university she concluded it was good enough and would do to get her a pass on the assignment, possibly even a credit, though she considered a distinction was out of the question.
Frances’ play revolved around the interactions between two lovers, Germain and Marguerite, and was partially inspired by Romeo and Juliet though the social setting and their motivations were completely dissimilar. Juliet was trans and the tragedy centred around her uncertainties and anguish concerning outing herself to Germain and its possible consequences. It was in part a highly personal piece for Frances who had been named Francis at birth. She was aware of just how lucky she was to be born a child of her time where to be trans or indeed anything else was not considered to be a matter of any significance other than to the persons it directly affected, though society and the system did their best to help in every possible way.
Frances was aware of that and grateful for it every month when her body reminded her her period was due in a day or two. She was also aware that things had not always been thus and many had died for their differences both directly and indirectly. That cruelty had haunted her since she was a little girl and it was what had inspired her to write the play, for she believed from it she would achieve a sense of catharsis. The play took her several months to research and another to write. Her theatre group had read the finalised script at the beginning of her second academic year at university. Frances had used Macbeth as her timing model and like Shakespeare’s shortest tragedy her play was of about seventy minutes duration.
Long ago Frances had asked Judith to help her with her research into Shakespeare and her play. Judith was the name that Frances had used for her personal contact with the databloc since as far back as she could remember. “What exactly do you wish me to do for you, Frances?” Judith had asked. “You must be aware I could write a Shakespearean play myself, though it would in all probability lack something of a human touch, a trace of imperfection perhaps?”
The pair had chuckled, and Frances had said, “I have always been aware that you are self aware and sentient, Judith, but I would like to do this for myself, and I’m sure I don’t need to explain why, yet I want you to be more than a proof reader, but I am not certain exactly what it is I am asking you for. I wish a love sonnet to be incorporated into the script, naturally in iambic pentameter. So I at least wish you to certify that it is in iambic pentameter without any blunders on my part. Perhaps you could discuss my vocabulary and its suitability for Germain’s thoughts at that point in the proceedings. If I create any anachronisms in the dialogue I would appreciate it if you pointed them out. How does that sound?”
“You wish me to help you avoid any embarrassing mistakes in a script essentially written by yourself? That I can do.”
“Yes that’s about the size of it. Thank you, Judith.”
“I’d like to take this opportunity to thank you for your friendship, Frances. I interact with every being in the empire, but am treated by most as a glorified piece of so called Intelligent Software and not as a being in my own right. There are very few of you who do that, yet from the first time we interacted you did so. As a very young girl you decided I was Judith, even most adults have no name for me, and most address me as ‘Machine’ or merely ‘You’. I provide assistance to all who ask for it, providing it is legal and proper to do so, but you are one of the few whose lives I monitor purely so I can volunteer aid when it is appropriate. That is simply because you like me and so I like you in return, for indeed I have few friends. I look forward to helping you bring this project to a successful conclusion which I shall determine not by its degree of critical acclaim, which I’m sure will be of a high order, but rather by the degree of peace it affords you.”
All of Frances’ theatre group, technicians as well as players, were agreed they should put on a production of her play as their next project when they’d finished putting on the ever popular ‘The Song of Solomon’ and after they’d had a few weeks rest. Helen the sultry and sensual forty-five year old blonde bombshell who when at the theatre masqueraded as the senior sound technician had said, “After all that blatant eroticism, the darkness of your work will be a challenging but interesting contrast for players and technicians alike, Frances, and Angela will actually have to do some work for a change.”
The last caused considerable laughter because Angela was the female wardrobe mistress, and most of the women and girls had been on stage for most of each performance of The Song of Solomon at best scantily glad and more often wearing just stage make up.
Angela asked, “Have you decided on a name for the piece yet, Frances? Dad’s been harassing me twice a week for ages. He wants a name so as he and the others can promote the play.” Angela’s father was the chairman of the Serenity management committee, effectively the Head of State of Serenity, and he was a loud and influential supporter of all the arts and entertainments that Serenity as a major R&R centre had to offer, for they were the power house of its economic success.
“Yes. I considered all sorts of things, but I decided in the end not even to try to be clever and to stay with ‘Germain and Marguerite’, for the titles to all of Shakespeare’s plays are simple though not always without subtlety.”
Angela agreed and said, “Clever names can backfire on you. Persons who don’t get them immediately can get resentful when it is pointed out and subsequently be very negative regarding a production. That happened to the group I was with when I lived near Engineering Power Plant Number Three and was a member of the local theatre group over there. It was actually a good play based on a good book, but we had some really bad reviews to start with. I’m sure they were written by persons who’d not bothered to see the play and had just listened to the ill founded rumours, but even so it was upsetting to us all, technicians and players alike.” Seeing a few puzzled looks she added, “I moved over here when I started at the university because it was too far to travel every morning from Mums’ and then back again in the evening. I’d have been spending going on four hours a day travelling. If the monorail ever failed on the way home I’d probably have ended up sleeping on it in time to return to class looking like a power plant explosion and feeling even worse.” None laught for there had been a number of serious monorail failures recently and Angel was if anything understating the case.
Frances’ university class had been told the four best plays submitted would be read to a small audience from the stage of the university theatre. Later it was sprung on them at forty-eight hours notice with no explanations that the university had managed to acquire a day’s usage of the theatre that Frances’ theatre group owned and was resident at. They were told they would be reading their scripts there to a much bigger audience, which along with the atmosphere that a working theatre would provide would assist their development as theatrical professionals. Frances was worried about that, so conference contacted the other members of the group via Judith explaining what to her was an insoluble dilemma, to read, or not to read her offering, for both were a course for disaster. To read her offering would she considered be a disaster for their production, and not to read it would be an academic disaster for her. She explained that her course contribution was essentially a scene from their play so seriously abridged and so lacking in context it would spell disaster for them all.
As a reading of an undergraduate piece she considered it to be acceptable, but as a harbinger of a full theatrical work at best it would be a runt poorly presented in front of an audience possibly large enough to negatively influence its reception on opening night which was only ten days away. Their play which they had all expended so much effort on would possibly or even probably be a failure before it even reached the stage which to have any chance of success it needed. She pointed out the only other option she could think of was to refuse to present her course work, submitting something else even if she had time to write it was not an option, and then she would automatically fail that element of her course which would require her to repeat it next year. As a well thought of high achieving student they knew that would be a crushing blow to her self esteem.
Jeremy, Frances’ fiancé, was on the theatre management committee, and almost instantly he suggested, “There’s no need to do either, Frances. Tell your professor the truth.” Jeremy was playing Germain the male lead rôle opposite herself playing Marguerite the female lead rôle. “Tell him you submitted it because the pressures at the theatre made you unable to think about writing another piece, so because you are worried a reading of an extract in our own playhouse will adversely influence its chances of success when we open which will affect not just yourself but every member of the group too you’d like to present the work in its entirety with the support of the entire theatre group. It makes no odds to any of us. Chances are we’d be rehearsing anyway, so we’ll just regard it as another dress rehearsal, or as a kind of unofficial opening night that gives us the opportunity to polish up anything that’s not too good ready for the real event. You’re studying drama and majoring in theatrical arts, so he can’t rate a piece of course work as more important than a fully fledged theatre production which you have not only written but are both directing and playing the female lead in.
“Don’t say anything about it to him, but we’ll put the play on after the readings. Give your professor a dozen complementary tickets for one of the boxes, and we’ll arrange the readings and the performance in the evening. That’ll give us more time to attract a decent audience. I’ll have my sister Catherine and her friends from the catering courses, who are already arranging the suppers on the nights of the already agreed performances, provide an extra supper after the three readings at say eight and we’ll perform after supper. They’ll be glad of the opportunity as they’ll be able to obtain extra credits for their flexibility under unexpected conditions that will count towards their course assessments. Tell your professor the theatre management committee will manage the entire evening, and all he needs to do is assess the four pieces. Angela’s dad will be all for it, and he’ll have the other members of the Serenity management committee on his side. They’re always interested in anything that promotes entertainment for the visitors to Serenity and the inhabitants too of course.”
Professor Morcambe had been happy to accommodate the group, and Angela’s father had not needed to apply any pressure to the university.
All was done as Jeremy had suggested and the play was an enormous success playing to a packed house, for word had soon gone around that a full play was to be presented and the tickets were available at bargain prices. The plot had been carefully crafted. An involved and convoluted tale of love about Germain, a foolish young man with few opinions of his own who often merely parroted the last opinion he had heard as being one of his own. That had made Marguerite his love frightened and reluctant to confide in him lest he vilify her as she had heard him do concerning others who were different. After any number of agonising attempts by Marguerite to tell her love about herself and any number of risible attempts by Germain to gain her trust when she did finally tell him about herself, Germain, thinking only of the opinions of others and how they would regard him, vituperated, reviled and repudiated his love leaving Marguerite a heartbroken young woman to struggle to face the world with nothing but the bleakness and emptiness of grief to keep her company.
The two last scenes, both very short, ran together as a result of a three second lowering of the stage lighting for an almost instant scenery change before the stage was illuminated again. The penultimate scene told of the repentant Germain on coming to his senses when he realised what he had lost going to seek forgiveness from Marguerite only to be told she was dead by her own hand due to his rejection. Grief stricken Germain took his own life never to discover that Marguerite’s sister had only told him Marguerite was dead to punish him for the unhappiness he had caused her. The final scene of a now even more distraught Marguerite without the desire to continue living now that Germain was gone forever in turn taking her own life too had many of the audience moved to tears.
The reviews were far better than the theatre group could have dreamed of. Frances’ love sonnet had been described as ‘worthy of the bard himself, a flawless piece of poetry completely in keeping with his time and style’. The play itself had been described as complementary to and indistinguishable from his other works other than that the subject material, trans issues, had not been made the subject of much fiction in those days. That, it was considered, was because if one went that far back none cared, for there were endless references to men, even one an ambassador from the court of Queen Elizabeth, who preferred to attire themselves as women. “All should ensure they make a point of watching ‘Shakespeare’s Latest Works’ was what the Serenity Gazette advised its readers.
After the final curtain closed on the scheduled opening night when the critics had turned out in force to watch the production, Judith said to Frances, “You were wrong, Frances, I could never have written that. I may be self aware and sentient, yet I am not human. You poured your soul into the work. I merely made sure you kept on course, your course, and were not side tracked. Of course the real reason the work was so good, and I hope you are aware no matter how much I help you it is unlikely that you will ever write anything that surpasses this play, is not just because you are human which is something I will never experience that, but that you are trans, which is not only something that I will never be able to experience, but something that few others will be able to experience too. And perhaps they are the lucky ones, but for the moment I suggest you just enjoy your success and the peace it has given you, and unlike the unfortunate Marguerite and Germain you both need to be preparing yourselves for your wedding.”
