What We Can Do

(A prison waiting room.  TARA, a visitor, is talking to NATHAN, a prison representative.  They’re seated together at a table.)

TARA:  I’m sorry, but what exactly is your function again?

NATHAN:  I’m a representative for the prison.

TARA:  I wasn’t aware that was a thing.

NATHAN:  It’s a thing.  Do you have a grievance I can help you with?

TARA:  Yes, I’d like my brother to be released.

NATHAN:  That, uh—I mean, you must know that’s more complicated than—

TARA:  Are you aware there’s an appeal?

NATHAN:  Yes, I’m aware of the appeal.

TARA:  There’s new evidence.

NATHAN:  I’m not—it’s not an in-depth—I mean, I’m not aware of all the—

TARA:  There’s new evidence.  That’s why there’s going to be an appeal.  And chances are, he’s probably going to get out of here but that’s only if the world doesn’t end.  If he’s innocent, and the world ends, and he’s in jail, you’ve committed wrongful imprisonment.

NATHAN:  Well, no.  Not really.  I haven’t really done anything.  The system—

TARA:  Right now, you are the system.

NATHAN:  I’m not.

TARA:  You’re a representative of the system, are you not?

NATHAN:  I—

TARA:  I want him out of here.  At least for the next few days.  Then, if the world doesn’t end, I can bring him back.

NATHAN:  He’s not a pair of pants, Miss—

TARA:  I’m Tara.

NATHAN:  Miss--?

TARA:  I’m Tara.

NATHAN:  Fine—Tara—Look, I’m sorry about—there’s a lot of situations right now that are—in development—that nobody really planned for.  What to do with potentially, uh—

TARA:  Innocent?

NATHAN:  Prisoners whose cases are under appeal—it’s tricky.  It’s very tricky, and I appreciate that it might be hard for you, but we can’t just open up all the jail cells and let everybody out.

TARA:  I’m not here for everybody.  I’m just here for my brother.

NATHAN:  Do you think you’re the only person who’s dealing with this?  Why do you think I’m here talking to you?  They created a position for me yesterday just to handle people like you—people just like you—who are in this—really terrible position.

TARA:  Don’t pat me on the head and act sweet, all right?  I’m not a child or an idiot.  If my brother dies in jail because you wouldn’t let him out—

NATHAN:  I’m sorry, but are you under the impression that I have a set of keys that just opens cellblocks?  I don’t.  And I don’t have the authority to tell you anything more than what I’m telling you now.

TARA:  So you’re saying you can’t get my brother out of jail.

NATHAN:  Yes, that is what I’m saying.

TARA:  Well, luckily for me, I’ve been taught never to take a ‘No’ from somebody who didn’t have the power to give you a ‘Yes’ in the first place.  I’m still getting my brother out of there.

NATHAN:  What are you going to do?  Dig your way into the prison with a spoon?

TARA:  If I have to.  Or maybe I’ll blast my way in with a machine gun.  Laws are sort of by the wayside now that we’re all prepping for D-Day.

NATHAN:  Your brother’s staying in jail.  That’s not going to change.  We are allowing for extra visitation—

TARA:  Shove it.

NATHAN:  Can we meet halfway here?

TARA:  Me sitting across from my brother while he’s shackled for a few extra minutes while the world ends outside is not meeting you halfway.

NATHAN:  Look, I don’t want to be—

TARA:  It’s fine.  You said you can’t help me.  I heard you.  I have to figure something else out.

            (She stands up from the table.)

NATHAN:  Have you ever considered the idea that he might be guilty?

            (She stops.  She sits back down.)

TARA:  Is that what you’re telling yourself to—

NATHAN:  It’s the truth.  I can’t comment on a lot of things as a representative of this institution, but as me—just me—a person?  He’s guilty.  Now, even if he weren’t guilty, which he is, he’d still be stuck here in this prison because we didn’t plan for this—and by ‘we’ I mean the system—everybody—nobody planned for this and so, yes, many, many injustices are happening all over the world right now, but your brother dying in prison is not one of them.

TARA:  There’s new evidence.

NATHAN:  It’s garbage.  Bottom of the barrel.  It’s literally the garbage you scrape from the bottom of the barrel and it’s—he wasn’t getting out.  I’m sorry.

TARA:  But you’re…you’re just…

NATHAN:  I’m a nobody.  Yes, this is true.  But it doesn’t change the fact that your brother killed somebody and he’s paying for it.  Right now.  And the Apocalypse is not going to be his Get Out of Jail free card.  Because the guy he shot at that liquor store still has a family and they probably still want your brother in here as much as you want him out.  Maybe they’re meeting with a representative right now too.  Who knows?  I’ve been up for seventeen hours.

TARA:  It’s only eight in the morning.

NATHAN:  I can’t sleep.  I’m anxious.  I think I’m entitled to be anxious.

TARA:  You’re already cracking and it’s eight in the morning.  How many more people are you going to meet with today?  How many more dreams do you plan on crushing?  Because if you’re cracking now—

NATHAN:  Do you really think he’s innocent?

TARA:  I don’t think anybody—anybody—deserves to die in a cell.  Not like this, anyway.  Not with everybody running away from them.  Fleeing because there are going to be fires everywhere and mass destruction and…Do you think I don’t know that at some point all of you—the representatives and the prison guards and the warden—are just going to peace out and take off and leave everybody in those cells there to die?  Good or bad?  Guilty or innocent?  Are you telling me you’re all still reporting to work tomorrow morning even if all hell breaks loose?

NATHAN:  …I can’t say that, no.

TARA:  There is going to come a time when—What’s your name?

NATHAN:  I introduced myself when we first walked—uh, you were upset.  I’m Nathan Fields.

TARA:  Nathan, there is going to come a time, when the clock is going to be restarted, and the entire world is going to be like one big game of musical chairs.  And we’re all going to need to get to safety before the music stops.  All of us are going to have that shot, and I want my brother to have it too.

NATHAN:  He forfeited his shot.

TARA:  No, he forfeited his life.  But this—this is unparalleled.  You said so yourself.  This goes beyond a sentence twelve people handed down.  This is every man for himself.  It’s musical chairs.  He gets to sit down just like everybody else does.

NATHAN:  I have no power.

TARA:  Then get me to somebody who does.

NATHAN:  He’s not getting out.

TARA:  So you’re telling me to stop trying.

NATHAN:  Yes, actually, that’s exactly what I’m telling you.

TARA:  Would you stop trying?

NATHAN:  If the person was guilty—

TARA:  Even if they were guilty—if they were your sister, or your wife, or even just a long-term girlfriend—would you stop trying?

            (A beat.)

NATHAN:  I can refer you to somebody.

TARA:  Who?

NATHAN:  I don’t know.  I only know that I have the power to refer.  It’ll probably get you nowhere, but I can do it.  Would you like me to do it?

TARA:  Yes.  Please.

            (He stands up.)

NATHAN:  Everything I’m about to do is the most that I can do, and I’d like you to understand that.

TARA:  Okay.

NATHAN:  That way, when you get nowhere, you won’t somehow revert all the anger you’re going to experience back to me.  Yes, you’re my first meeting of the day, and I’m trying to help, but I can’t, and it’s frustrating, and I’d like you not to hate me for it.

            (A beat.)

TARA:  Okay.

NATHAN:  Good luck.

TARA:  Thank you.

            (He leaves.  She wonders what she’s supposed to do next.)