Becoming
The play
A play.
Yes, I know.
We were doing perfectly well
with stories.
Cassandra, however, has become
rather difficult to contain.
So. A newsroom.
Cameras. Deadlines. Ambition.
Friendship.
People saying things like good for the
numbers while discussing war.
You know. Civilisation.
And into all of this, something
impossible arrives.
Cassandra has met the
impossible before.
She's considerably better at it now.
Mostly.
But this time there is considerably less
scenery between.
No ancient world.
No convenient underworld.
Just her life.
Her work. Her friends. Her questions.
And two rather unexpected visitors.
One of whom has particularly
unfortunate timing.
I appreciate that in a person.
There will be longing.
Naturally.
There will be choices.
And Cassandra will discover that
knowing yourself rather well does not
necessarily make either of those easier.
I could say more.
But she's about to walk onto the stage.
We should probably let her speak
for herself.
Well.
She said no.
Not to love.
That's the important part.
Cassandra has spent rather a long
time believing that the great choice
would eventually be whether she was
brave enough to cross the threshold.
She crossed it.
We've seen that.
Very dramatic.
Beautiful garden.
Excellent trees.
But when the real choice arrives,
Cassandra does something rather
extraordinary.
She questions the question.
Took her long enough.
Cassandra has always been
remarkably good at accepting
impossible choices and then suffering
magnificently inside them.
Stay or leave.
Love or protect yourself.
Surrender or remain sovereign.
She does enjoy a binary.
Life, apparently, does not.
So Cassandra chooses her life.
Not instead of love.
Alongside it.
And love can decide what it wants to
do with that.
There.
That's Power.
I knew we'd get back to it.
And this time Cassandra doesn't need
a castle.
Or a veil.
Or a celestial vision she can attach to
the wrong man.
Progress.
She simply sits at a dinner table and
says:
Everything. Except myself.
Rather good, Cassandra.
Even I didn't have much to add.
And then, of course, the brothers
finally introduce themselves properly.
I was wondering how long they
intended to keep that up.
Life and Death.
In a restaurant.
People drinking wine.
Talking about work.
No mountain.
No underworld.
No veil.
The old forces haven't gone anywhere.
They've simply come closer.
Or perhaps Cassandra has.
Either way, things are about to get
considerably more interesting.
There are others.
Naturally.
And Cassandra is going to meet them.
One by one.
I should probably warn them.
I won't.
