VOLODYMYR SERDIUK
LET THE CHILDREN IN
One Act Play in Five Scenes
Translated by Volodymyr Serdiuk and Rachel Vigour
SETTINGS:
The light is dim. The spotlight shows us a man’s hands on a table, signing some papers. On the hands are burn marks and tattoos in the form of an anchor and Ukrainian Trident. As more lamps turn on, we see a businessman at a restaurant table. His assistant sits nearby at a separate table. The assistant talks on his mobile phone.
CHARACTERS:
- BOSS,
- MANAGER,
- SINGER,
- WAITER – all the actors of any Sex and Age
- Outside the window, the outlines of children are visible
All Actors are of any sex and age.
SCENE ONE
MANAGER (addressing the boss). This is from the Kharkiv City project, you know.
BOSS. Let them have it.
MANAGER. Understood. (To the phone.) Take it.
(A PAUSE)
MANAGER (Continues): They’re asking: “Everything?.
BOSS. Confirm. Everything.
(Waiter brings a cup and saucer, carefully places it on the table in front of Boss.)
WAITER. Here you go.
(Waiter is about to leave.)
BOSS. Your manager.
WAITER. I am sorry, what?
BOSS. Bring your manager here.
(Boss continues to look through the papers without looking up at Waiter.)
WAITER. Anything you want, sir, but my manager says he is not here.
BOSS. Did I order tea?
WAITER. Yes.
BOSS. What is this?
(The boss takes the teaspoon off the cup.
There is clear water in it. A wrapped tea bag is on the saucer.)
BOSS (Continues): What is the temperature of this liquid?
WAITER. Sixty-five degrees. According to the instructions.
BOSS. I asked you to pour boiling water into a transparent glass. I asked you to first warm the glass and put one teaspoon of loose-leaf tea in. There should be exactly two hundred grams of boiling water. Boiling water is water heated to a temperature of one hundred degrees Celsius.
MANAGER. Please don’t worry about it so much, boss.
BOSS. You have two minutes to complete the task. If my tea is not here in three minutes, I am leaving your restaurant. Forever!
(An awkward PAUSE).
(Waiter and Manager look at each other.)
BOSS. Time is up. Get your manager over here!
MANAGER. I’m sorry, sir, but our manager ran away when he saw you enter our café.
BOSS. Then get the owner in here!
MANAGER. The owner doesn’t come here.
BOSS. It’s just like at the front: you don’t ever see the leadership on the front line.
(Boss puts his head on the table and falls asleep immediately.
Singer sings first verse of love song.)
(This could be the song: https://www.facebook.com/share/r/531JitxAnUHp5xXd/ )
SCENE TWO
SINGER. What a shame.
MANAGER. What?
SINGER. Your boss, he seems to be acting, shall we say, strangely.
MANAGER. Nothing strange so far.
SINGER. I mean, was he always like this?
MANAGER. No, he was really different when I met him. He wasn’t my boss at that point. Our companies were cooperating — three years ago.
SINGER. So what happened during these last three years?
MANAGER. War happened. Full-scale Russian Military Aggression against Ukraine.
SINGER. Somehow he does not look like a Warrior right about now.
MANAGER. He was not a military man. He went to the front lines as a volunteer. Actually, he started his service in a detachment called Territorial Defense Media. He moved with them to the Donetsk region. Later on he joined the 244th Separate Territorial Defense Battalion based in Obolon district, in Kyiv.
SINGER. Was he normal then?
MANAGER. Yes. His personality changed radically after being heavily wounded.
SINGER. “Wounded Warrior.”
(A PAUSE.)
MANAGER How do you do it so that it looks like you like it?
SINGER. What are you talking about? What exactly am I doing?
MANAGER. You are singing.
SINGER. Well, I’m a professional singer.
MANAGER. And what do you do when you cannot sing? If you are in a bad mood, for example?
SINGER. Then I choose someone from the audience with my eyes and sing as if to that person personally.
MANAGER. Why sing to that one person?
SINGER. Well, I pretend that I love that person.
MANAGER. You love him/her right away.
SINGER. I imagine that I like that person, and that person likes me.
MANAGER. That’s cool! Can you love any person on command like that?
SINGER. Anyone. On command.
MANAGER. Even my boss?
SINGER. Not him, he’s rude. I could love you, but you go around unshaven.
MANAGER. I have a lot to do, you know.
SINGER. I understand that, but it makes it hard to love you.
MANAGER. I am going to go shave right now! Where’s the bathroom?
SINGER. Too late. Don’t get worked up about it. You’ve already proven yourself. I’ve made up my mind about you.
MANAGER. What can I do about it?
SINGER. Just relax.
MANAGER. Like my boss?
SINGER. Like your boss.
(The singer sings the second verse of the love song.)
(The roar of a Russian “Shaheed” explosion heard from outside.)
SCENE THREE
BOSS. What is that knocking so loudly again?
MANAGER. Evidently something fell.
BOSS. What is something that can fall three times in a row?
SINGER. The tablets of history.
BOSS. Who said that?
SINGER. The singer.
BOSS. Singer, can you just sing? Without talking to us customers?
SINGER. You did not like how I sang it.
BOSS. I still don’t like it. ‘Cause you’re singing to the rhythm of an automatic grenade launcher.
SINGER. That is the blues.
BOSS. No, the blues is sung in six bars. And slower. Idiosyncratic, nine to twelve beats. You were singing in three eight.
SINGER. Okay, I am not an accountant. I’ll try another song.
BOSS. No need for another one.
SINGER. Which one then?
BOSS. This one.
SINGER. The one I want to sing next, or the one I was already singing to you?
THE BOSS. The one you just sang.
SINGER. Why?
BOSS. Because I’m getting used to you.
SINGER. To me as a person?
BOSS. No, as part of the interior design.
SINGER. Say what?
BOSS. As part of the furnishings. Armchair, table.
SINGER. Good thing you don’t mean like a carpet.
BOSS. What do you mean?
SINGER. I would slip out of a leather armchair soon as you fall asleep.
BOSS. What about the carpet?
SINGER. The carpet will leave an imprint of its pattern.
THE BOSS. Where?
SINGER. The carpet will leave its imprint all down your back! Go back to sleep.
BOSS. Are we asleep? No. Stay awake! There may be an attack!
MANAGER. We are in Kyiv, in a café, boss.
BOSS. Who are you?
MANAGER. I’m your secretary.
BOSS. Where did you serve?
MANAGER. In the one hundred and fifteenth detachment.
BOSS. I’ll shoot you!
MANAGER. You won’t shoot me.
BOSS. Why not?
MANAGER. Because, first of all, I served in another one hundred and fifteenth battalion, not that one you have in mind. They always confuse us. Second of all, I’m the only one who knows all your codes and passwords.
BOSS. Are you kidding?
MANAGER. No, I’m not.
BOSS. I used to have everything written in my notebook.
MANAGER. Then someone cracked your password, and you were in big trouble. Do you remember?
BOSS. Me? Do I remember?
MANAGER. You may not remember, but that’s what happened.
BOSS. What happened?
MANAGER. You won a hundred thousand in a Casino, put it in your virtual safe in the cloud, and forgot the password.
BOSS. I did not “forget” the password! They gave me a complicated password. Morons. Well that is the one time I really did forget.
SINGER. Fire that secretary.
BOSS. What for?
SINGER. Because he’ll make you go bankrupt.
BOSS. Why?
SINGER. Because you’re too dependent on him. It seems you have neither a dog nor a fish at home.
BOSS. What would I need them for?
SINGER. To love them. If you are not capable of loving people anymore, you are a money bag.
BOSS. No. I’m dependent on-–what do you call it?
MANAGER. On “Spasmalgon” pills.
SINGER. See. He knows too much.
BOSS. Whom should I hire for this position instead?
SINGER. Me.
BOSS. You are too good to work for me.
SINGER. Then I’ll hire another secretary for you. I’ll be staying right by your side.
BOSS. You would not be in charge.
SINGER. Of course not. I wouldn’t be working for you either.
BOSS. What are you driving at? I never asked you to work for me.
SINGER. Very well, then. I’ll get back to my singing.
BOSS (To the Singer). Sing. (To the Manager). While you write down my passwords in my notebook.
MANAGER. What for?
BOSS. In case I decide to fire you.
MANAGER. What if I refuse to quit?
BOSS. Then you will be physically injured and I will be morally injured.
MANAGER. What do you mean?
BOSS. Because I do not like having to hit my subordinates.
(The boss falls head first onto the table).
MANAGER. He is asleep.
SINGER. Is he sleeping?
MANAGER. Yes, he is. He does that. He falls asleep. He’ll wake up momentarily.
SINGER. Then he’ll fall asleep again.
MANAGER. Four contusions, you know.
BOSS. Wounded deep in the head.
SINGER. I am asking what you would like me to do.
BOSS. Who are you?
SINGER. I am a singer.
BOSS. Well, then, sing softly to yourself..
SINGER. I cannot sing softly!
BOSS. Why not?
SINGER. Because I am a professional singer.
BOSS. You know he is a professional boxer. He is doing fine, sitting quietly, and not hitting anybody.
SINGER. I cannot sing quietly. I need an audience.
MANAGER. Imagine he is your child and sing.
SINGER. Oh! Then yes. Okay, I will sing.
(The singer sings the third verse of the love song).
SCENE FOUR
SINGER. Why don’t you dance with me, Gentlemen?
MANAGER. Because you are our singer.
BOSS. Go ahead and dance. I’ll be over here napping.
(MANAGER and SINGER dance, BOSS dozes off).
BOSS (Waking up shortly). I wonder why those children outside the window are so quiet.
MANAGER. The needy tend to be quiet.
BOSS. Well, you who are well off, don’t sit there flapping your mouth. Go find out why these children have been left out in the cold.
(MANAGER goes out and returns in).
MANAGER. They gave me these crumpled, dirty papers and told me they’re for you.
BOSS. Yes, I see, these papers aren’t in good shape. These are letters but they aren’t addressed to me. Here’s the first line: “My beloved, if you are reading this letter, you should know that I was killed in action.” These letters were written by people before their last battle. Signature, last name, first name. What?! These are the names of my men. These are the letters they sent with my body.
MANAGER. With what body?
BOSS. With the deceased.
MANAGER. Who was the deceased?
BOSS. I was already dead at that point. I was the mailbox. I delivered those letters. That there–see? That’s my blood on them.
SINGER. Oh, my God!
BOSS. After I got wounded I told them to leave me at the machine gun with my men! They were low on ammo, only had small-caliber ammunition left, 5.45. They were probably going to run out soon, not having any more grenades or mines. I refused to leave them. But, my eyes went dark. They must have dragged me out against my wishes.
MANAGER. You died.
BOSS. Yes, I think I did. I’m ashamed that I did not die with them.
(All are silent).
(A PAUSE).
BOSS (Continues). It was only later, in the hospital, that I found out I had a hole in my head. Then I was just very angry with them.
SINGER. You cannot stay angry with them. They are righteous.
BOSS. Of course! I realize now that I should not have been angry with them. Through the darkness, I thought I heard the boys saying, “Quickly write letters best you can. Put them on his chest, under his bullet-proof vest. His body will be brought out, and our letters will be sent to our families.” I wondered in the dark where they could take me since we were surrounded by enemies. We were all supposed to die there, and I was supposed to die too.
It was only later that I was told that a drone had come to our position. This didn’t explain why I woke up alive. I thought a drone is something that flies. How could it come by land?
MANAGER. There are drones like that, sir. Yes, sir, continue, please.
SINGER. An autonomous vehicle hauled you out!
BOSS. It turns out that the drone could pull only one person out from that hellhole.
SINGER. It pulled you back to life.
BOSS. The letters have the names of my friends on them, but I do not know their addresses or phone numbers.
SINGER. These letters are their phone numbers. They relied on these letters to reach their families.
BOSS. Mobile phones there no longer worked; they were all dead, no power. They wrote everything onto paper. But the stains of blood are clearly mine.
MANAGER. Maybe theirs too.
BOSS. Possibly theirs too. They tore my soul out. Why did I survive!
SINGER. Don’t test God. It means you are destined to survive.
BOSS. Why? Why? Our whole unit was killed. I was supposed to die.
SINGER. Then you have some other task to fulfill in this life.
BOSS. What?
SINGER. I do not know.
BOSS (to Manager). Perhaps you know.
MANAGER. No. I do not know.
BOSS. Because you have your own life. You live your own life and someone else doesn’t live it for you. Well, these letters arrived under my camouflage. There is a hole in my head. Why didn’t my brain leak then?
SINGER. Sir, hushabye, now! Here, let me read it: “My dear wife. Open this letter if you find out I am dead. Otherwise, do not touch it. Let the envelope stay sealed. If you are reading this, I am already dead. Give the child to Uncle Volodya and get married again. I will not hold it against you. The only thing I ask is that the man you marry be decent. Choose some decent man, okay? Live happy, my dear.”
BOSS. Darkness in my eyes again. Give me a pill. I will suck on it, and I will see the light.
MANAGER. Look what the other letters say: “Go to Uncle Volodya when I’m dead. You wanted to be a pilot, son. Uncle Volodya has a company in Kyiv. He builds airplanes. Someday you will be a pilot, and when you fly in the sky, please know that I see you, because I am in the sky.”
BOSS. Do not read anymore. Do not read. These are my children. They will be mine. My comrades gave me their own children to raise.
MANAGER. You’re not going to adopt them all, are you?
BOSS. I am going to break your face! These are my children now. The only thing that can stop me is that I am not married. Who is going to let me adopt all these kids at once? I don’t even know them yet.
SINGER. You do not know them, and I do not know them either.
BOSS. How will we know who these children are?
MANAGER. They handed me the list.
(The MANAGER hands over the list. The BOSS takes it and reads it).
BOSS. My eyes are shaking.
SINGER. May I read it?
BOSS. No. I know the list by heart.
SINGER. Have they already come to you?
BOSS. They come to me every night.
SINGER. Who? Those children?
BOSS. No. The soldiers. Because this is my platoon’s roster.
SCENE FIVE
SINGER. God, what beautiful children.
MANAGER. Do not say that; you will jinx it.
BOSS. I cannot be their father.
SINGER. Why not?
BOSS. Because I am not married.
MANAGER. So what? There are single parents, right?
BOSS. A single parent can have one child.
SINGER. Why the restrictions?
BOSS. Because children need attention and care.
SINGER. What about you?
BOSS. I work and I will continue to work. I will be able to feed and clothe them.
MANAGER. Isn’t that enough?
BOSS. No, it is not. Children require attention and love.
MANAGER. You keep your attention on the accounting. And your love is focused on production.
BOSS. When I’m a father of ten children, I’ll be forced to hand over the accounting department to you.
MANAGER. Do not joke like that, boss!
BOSS. When have I ever joked with you?
MANAGER. Never.
BOSS. You will learn. You will be doing all our accounting.
MANAGER. What about the production department?
BOSS. My bodyguard will handle the production department.
MANAGER. He will break the jaws of all the department heads.
BOSS. Then they deserve it. Let him break them.
MANAGER. Not an effective method!
BOSS. You’re in charge of accounting now, so manage yourself, or I will put the export department on your shoulders too.
MANAGER. Don’t put the export department on me!
BOSS. Did I want to have children? Do you think so?
MANAGER. Then do not take them.
BOSS. Are they lying on the side of the road?
MANAGER. I mean, do not adopt them.
BOSS. Did you fight in the war?
MANAGER. Not in combat.
BOSS. Did you lose your comrades?
MANAGER. No.
BOSS. Were you an orphan?
MANAGER. No, I was not.
BOSS. Then keep quiet.
SINGER. I will be their mother.
BOSS. You are a singer.
SINGER. I will sing songs and tell them stories. I will have a bigger audience with them than I ever had in this whole restaurant. I will be popular with them. They will need me every minute.
BOSS. Have you ever dreamed of such popularity?
SINGER. No, not quite. Did you ever dream of the kind of fame you now have?
BOSS. I dreamed of wealth.
SINGER. Why would you need to be rich?
BOSS. I wanted to build a monument to my fallen comrades. Not just any memorial, something huge. A necropolis, a museum.
MANAGER. To raise their children will be the best monument to them.
SINGER. You can bring them to the warm sea.
BOSS. Bring a monument to the warm sea?
SINGER. And I will be their mother.
MANAGER. No, you won’t.
SINGER. Why not?
MANAGER. Because you’re not married.
SINGER. I am going to get married.
BOSS. You will get married! They want me to be their father.
SINGER. Then I will marry you.
BOSS. I am impatient. A nervous wreck.
SINGER. Well, that’s your opinion.
BOS. I’m rude.
SINGER. I won’t let you be rude to me.
BOSS. I snore.
MANAGER. Who knows what it might be like with ten children snoring in one room all night long!
BOSS. Why in the world would they sleep in the same room!? I will build a three-story house for our big family.
SINGER. Enough talking. So we’re getting married?
BOSS. We are getting married.
MANAGER. You should ask her, boss.
BOSS. Who should I ask?
MANAGER. Ask the singer.
BOSS. Singer, will you marry me?
SINGER. That’s what you really want?
BOSS. Ten times more than when I first set foot in here. That really is what I want.
SINGER. Then I agree.
BOSS. Three years ago. I was preparing to die at war. Now I’m revived and I am recovering. I love you people! Press on. We will continue living… Call the children in so they won’t freeze out there.
MANAGER. Let the children in.
SINGER. Come on in, kids!
CURTAIN
© Volodymyr Serdiuk, 2024. [this copy was a Feb 4 2025 edit from R.A.V.]
Ukraine, Kyiv, November 29, 01:49.
