Copyright 1982, 1986
                                                by Charles Deemer













                                   TESTING


                           a dark comedy in one act

                             by Charles Deemer


                             


        THE CAST:

        Boris
        Ivan
        DJ
        Natasha
        Voice on tape

        THE SET:

        Radio station KGB-SH in Moscow.  Stage right, the radio
        studio, with the DJ's "board" facing the audience.  Stage
        left, the reception office with a desk.  The station and
        office are separated by a wall, a door, and a sound-proof bay
        window.  Entrance into the office is stage left.

        THE TIME:

        Now.


        ____

                (AT RISE:  the DJ is in the studio.
                Natasha is cleaning off her desk,
                preparing to go home.  DJ enters the
                office.)

                        DJ
        Not leaving already?

                        NATASHA
        Requests are pretty slow today.

                        DJ
        Too nice a day to listen to the radio.  Moscow is alive with
        picnics.

                        NATASHA
        Nicolai's working overtime or we'd be on one ourselves.

                        DJ
        And how are the little ones?

                        NATASHA
        Marta lost her first tooth.
Š                      DJ
        How time flies.  Before you know it, they'll be grown and
        having children of their own.

                        NATASHA
        I'm too young to be a grandmother.

                        DJ
        You wait -- it'll happen before you know it.

                        NATASHA (on her way out)
        Don't fall asleep at the microphone.

                        DJ
        It'll be a struggle, believe me.  How are we stocked for
        vodka?

                        NATASHA
        Bought a new case Wednesday.

                        DJ
        Good.  It's the only thing about this job that's bearable any
        more.

                        NATASHA (on her way out)
        Be good.

                        DJ
        Good is boring!

                (She's gone.  DJ returns to the studio
                        and is back on the air:)

                        DJ
        That was the Little Bugs doing Moscow Matinee!  Number Six on
        the Honorable Twenty-five this week!  Hey-bob-a-ree-bob!
        You're listening to Moscow Radio KGB-SH . . . and now a
        People's Service Announcement . . .

                (DJ goes off the air, removes his
                earphones and immediately drinks from a
                bottle of vodka, as we hear:)

                        VOICE ON TAPE
        People's Service Announcements for Sunday, the 16th:

        The Moscow Abortion Collective will meet at the University
        Library on Tuesday at seven-thirty.  Nominations for new
        officers will close at seven-forty-five.

        The Tuesday meeting of Blue Jeans Anonymous has been
        cancelled.  Stay tuned to this station for further details.


Š                        VOICE ON TAPE (cont.)
        The Bread Distribution Schedule for tomorrow is:  A through
        K, seven to seven-thirty morning; L through P, seven-thirty
        to eight; R through Sh-Ch, eight to eight-thirty; all others
        stay tuned.  Please carry exact change.

                (At this point, as the VOICE continues
                below, BORIS and IVAN enter the office.
                They are in overalls, carrying painting
                gear.  With no one to greet them, they
                try to get the attention of the DJ
                through the window but the DJ is still
                lost in his vodka bottle.)

                        VOICE ON TAPE
        Comrades!  Please conserve vodka!  For more information,
        write Box-Ts, Moscow Central Station.

        Forbidden Tunes, week of the seventeenth:  "Black Market
        Blues"; "Stalin's Last Letter"; "Oo-ee Sh-boom Ding-dong, O
        Love Me, Baby, Yes!"; "Postage Rates Are Rising"; "I Was A
        Mongoloid in the Army."

                (Finally BORIS and IVAN get the attention
                of the DJ.  He tries to hide the bottle,
                then gestures that he has to get back on
                the air.)

                        VOICE ON TAPE
        Civilian Survival Rehearsals, week of the seventeenth: none.

        This concludes the People's Service Announcements for Sunday
        the sixteenth.  This has been a KGB-SH production.

                        DJ (back on the air)
        Hey-bob-a-ree-bob!  You're listening to Sunday Caviar,
        featuring the very best in Soviet entertainment.

        Last week it was Number Three on the Honorable Twenty-five .
        . . this week it's climbed up to number two!  The popular
        Alexander Mopkin singing a sad ballad of unrequited love . .
        . "The Decadent Betrayal of the Champagne Lady" . . .

                (DJ starts record, turns off sounds,
                takes off earphones, and enters the
                office.)

                        DJ
        Sorry, I was about to go on the air.

                        BORIS (with a work order form)
        We're supposed to paint the office.

                        DJ
        No one told me.Š
                        BORIS
        We were supposed to be here last month.  It's been very busy.
        And, of course, there's the usual American yellow tape.

                        DJ (looking over form)
        I see.  Well, help yourself.

                        BORIS
        You need to sign here.

                        DJ
        Of course.

                (He signs.)

                        BORIS
        We'll try not to disturb you.

                        DJ
        No matter, the studio's sound-proof.

                        BORIS
        When we finish this wall, we'll need your signature again.
        Then again here so we can start the other wall.  One
        signature per wall.

                        DJ
        Just give a wave, and I'll be out as soon as I can.  Well,
        I'd better get back to work.

                (DJ goes back into the studio.)

                        BORIS
        Nothing to it.

                        IVAN
        Easy enough to say now.

                        BORIS
        I'll say it now and I'll say it in twenty minutes.  It's
        pigeon soup.

                        IVAN
        Hope you're right.

                        BORIS
        Relax.  Let's get started.

                (They prepare to start painting.)

                        IVAN (seeing a radio on the desk)
        Maybe we should turn on the radio so we can know what's going
        on in there.
Š                      BORIS
        I've heard his show before.  It stinks.

                        IVAN
        He has a phone in there.

                        BORIS
        So what if he has a phone?

                        IVAN
        Then he can call out.

                        BORIS
        Ivan, relax.  This plan was put together by better minds than
        ours.  Nothing can go wrong.

                        IVAN
        Easy to say now.

                        BORIS
        In twenty minutes -- nineteen -- I'll say the same.  Where's
        the thinner?

                        IVAN
        You had it last.

                        BORIS
        It was on the porch when I loaded the ladder.  Didn't you get
        it?

                        IVAN
        I thought you did.

                        BORIS
        For Marx sake!  Well, no matter.  We'll paint without it.
        Won't make any difference soon enough.

                        DJ (back on the air)
        And here's the Red Army Chorus singing, "Peaceful Drifting
        Snow Blizzard."

                (Again, DJ turns down sound and reenters
                the office.)

                        DJ
        What color?

                        IVAN
        Gray.

                        DJ
        How dull.

                        BORIS
        It was left over from the Battleship Butterfly.Š
                        DJ
        It's always the warships they buy too much paint for.  Why
        not the People's Sex Lab one time?  Purple would liven up the
        place.

                        BORIS
        Excuse me, it's not that I'm snooping, but I noticed you have
        some vodka.

                        DJ
        It keeps me going . . .

                        BORIS
        I was wondering if we could borrow a little.  We forgot
        thinner.

                        DJ
        Sure.

                (He goes to Natasha's desk and finds
                several vodka bottles.)

                        DJ
        We just got a new case.

                (He gives them a bottle.)

                        BORIS
        Thanks.

                        DJ
        Gray, huh?

                (He shakes his head and returns to the
                studio.)

                        IVAN
        Clever to thin with vodka, Boris.  Perhaps . . .

                        BORIS
        That's why I got it -- you need it worse than the paint.  But
        just a sip.  I don't want you drunk when the rubles are down.
        Only fifteen minutes now.

                (IVAN takes a swig of vodka; in the
                studio, the DJ does the same.)

                        BORIS
        He's right about the gray.  Moscow gets duller all the time.
        If it were up to me, I'd save the people and destroy the
        buildings.

                        IVAN
        Vodka?Š
                        BORIS
        Just a sip.  (Toasting)  To the new dawn.

                        IVAN
        That would be harder, I think.  Saving the people.

                        BORIS
        Not when they are underground.  The Soviet Union has the most
        advanced Civilian Survival System in human history.  Send
        everybody below and then flatten the country: that would put
        the fear of Lenin in them.

                        IVAN
        It didn't stop England in the Second Big One.  They didn't
        give up, flattened country or not.

                        BORIS
        Well, who are we to shape military policy?  Better minds than
        ours are at work.  If you have a bomb that kills people but
        saves the buildings, it's all the better for the survivors.
        After all, Moscow wasn't built in a day.

                        IVAN
        One more sip?

                        BORIS
        Just one.

                        IVAN
        To the new dawn.

                        BORIS
        That's the spirit.

                        DJ (on the air)
        The magnificent Red Army Chorus!  Hey-bob-a-ree-bob!  Here's
        Number Seven on this week's Honorable Twenty-Five, after
        falling from number one to five weeks on the Forbidden Tunes
        list . . . but it's back on the charts on appeal, at number
        seven and still climbing . . . it's Buddy Boy and the
        Hollywood Gangsters doing it for you, a rocking good dance
        step that's taken Moscow by storm . . . "Everybody Do the
        Nuke!"

                (DJ goes off the air, takes a swig of
                vodka and starts dancing the Nuke in the
                studio.)

                        IVAN
        I don't like him drinking in there like that.

                        BORIS
        Everyone in Moscow drinks on the job.
Š                      IVAN
        They don't carry on like that.  Is he having a seizure?

                        BORIS
        He's probably lonely.  On the radio, the job sounds glamorous
        -- but look at the closet he's in, trying to pretend it's
        Lenin's Eve.  He probably gets phone calls from lonely
        babushkas, saying suggestive things to him.  All the while
        they've got their arm around a boyfriend.  It looks as lonely
        as Siberia in there.

                        IVAN
        He looks more crazy than lonely.

                (And the DJ dances the Nuke into the
                office.)

                        DJ
        Everybody do the Nuke!  It's the latest craze . . .

                        BORIS
        I thought it was a Forbidden Tune.

                        DJ
        They cleaned it up again.  Quite acceptable this week.

                        BORIS
        You seem to know the dance steps very well.

                        DJ
        My sister taught me.  Of course, that was before it was
        banned.

                        BORIS
        Of course.

                        DJ
        It's not as easy as it looks -- being stunned and keeping
        your balance at the same time.  Easier when you're younger.

                        BORIS
        I wouldn't begin to try at my age.

                        DJ
        Everybody do the Nuke!

                (He dances back into the studio.)

                        IVAN
        I don't think he's lonely.

                        BORIS
        Maybe you're right.  These radio personalities have their
        reputation to think of -- maybe that's all for our benefit.
Š              (They go back to work.  In the studio,
                the telephone rings.  Simultaneously, the
                lights in the office dim.)

                        DJ (answering the phone)
        Sunday Caviar . . . Any request you like, my little fish egg.
        . . . An American, really?  I think many American students
        listen to me.  You like country-western?  I have Gene Autry,
        Tennessee Ernie Ford? . . . Jazz then?  Satchmo, Lawrence
        Welk? . . . Ah!  I know just the song for you.
        Hey-bob-a-ree-bob!

                (He hangs up.)

                        IVAN
        Boris, he got a phone call.

                        BORIS
        So?

                        IVAN
        So I'm nervous.  What time is it?

                        BORIS
        Twelve minutes.  Relax.  Imagine you are painting a beautiful
        woman.

                        IVAN
        I don't know any gray women.

                        BORIS
        Paint the hair of your grandmother.

                        DJ (on the air)
        We have a special request on Sunday Caviar.  Betty is an
        American student studying at the University and she wants to
        dedicate this to all her new friends in Moscow.  In America,
        it was recorded by Elvis -- in the Soviet Union, by Danny Car
        Wash!  Hey-bob-a-ree-bob!

                (The DJ starts a record but the studio
                monitor has gone on the blink.  He bangs
                on it.  Nothing.  He rushes into the
                office.)

                        DJ
        Excuse me, I want to hear this.  My monitor just went
        turnips.

                (DJ turns on the radio: we hear a singer
                doing a Russian version of "You Ain't
                Nothin' But A Hound Dog" /see appendix/)


Š                      DJ
        American student requested Elvis.  I'll be she's surprised to
        hear that Danny Car Wash is better.

                (The song continues.  Suddenly the lights
                dim again.)

                        DJ
         Excuse me -- I have a call.

                (He hurries back into the studio.)

                        IVAN
        Boris, why is an American calling him?

                        BORIS
        To request a song.  It's nothing.

                        IVAN
        But now of all times!

                        BORIS
        Relax.  American students are paid by the CIA to request
        American songs.  It's part of the cold war.

                        IVAN
        This is no longer chilly, Boris.

                        BORIS
        What can a student suspect?  Students are optimists.  Why
        study otherwise?  Relax and paint your grandmother's hair.
        To the new dawn, Ivan.

                        IVAN
        To the new dawn.

                (They drink.)

                        DJ (on the phone)
        Sunday Caviar . . . Hello again!  You like it, yes?  Better
        than Elvis? . . . Really?  I never heard this before. . . .
        My American is very poor but I'll try to find out for you.
        Hey-bob-a-ree-bob!

                (He hangs up, takes a swig of vodka, and
                is back on the air.)

                        DJ
        That was a special request on Sunday Caviar.  Moscow's own
        Danny Car Wash!  What do you think?  Who is better, Elvis or
        Danny Car Wash?  While you're deciding, here's a regular
        feature on Sunday Caviar, the minutes of last week's meeting
        of the Institute for Inspections.

Š              (He goes off the air and is back into th
                office.)

                        DJ
        Do either of you speak American?

                        BORIS
        A little bit.

                        DJ
        That was the American student on the phone.  She says the
        song by Elvis is mistranslated.  Do you know "Hound Dog" in
        American?

                        BORIS
        I think I remember:  (singing, with accent:)   "You ain't
        nothin' but a hound dog / Crockin' all the time . . ."

                        DJ
        And how do you say this in Russian?

                        BORIS
        You ain't nothin' but a hound dog / Always being a broken
        down horse.

                        DJ
        That's exactly what I thought it meant.

                        IVAN
        Excuse me, but I thought it was a pot.

                        BORIS
        A crock is a broken down horse.

                        IVAN
        To the English, a broken down horse.  To the Americans, a
        crock is a pot.  The American goes:  (singing, with accent:)
        "You ain't nothin' but a hound dog / Crockin' all the time .
        . ."  A crock is a pot.

                        DJ
        Then it means, You ain't nothin' but a hound dog / Always
        being a pot?

                        IVAN
        No, it is colloquial expression.  You ain't nothin' but a
        hound dog / Always going to the pot.  You know, to sprinkle
        water on Stalin's grave.

                        DJ
        But this is terrible to play on the radio!

                        BORIS
        Worse, when Stalin was alive.
Š                      DJ
        I must report this to the Secretary of Forbidden Tunes.  But
        Natasha is always out of forms.  (Throwing up his arms:)  Fat
        of the fish egg . . .

                (He goes back into the studio.)

                        BORIS
        I don't understand.  Americans say, (with accent:) "I am
        crocked."  This means they are drunk -- in other words,
        acting like a broken down horse.

                        IVAN
        No, it means they have to go to the pot many times -- which
        means they are drunk.

                        BORIS
        Wait a minute.  There is also underground youth expression.
        I think American youth, they call Mexican H-bombs "the pot."

                        IVAN
        I never heard this.

                        BORIS
        So perhaps it means: You ain't nothin' but a hound dog /
        Always smoking on the Mexican H-bomb!  Don't you see?  Elvis
        died of drugs.  So this is like a foreshadowing!  Like
        playing the Beatles backwards!

                        IVAN
        I tried playing the Beatles backwards and it didn't work.  Of
        course, it was the Russian version.

                        BORIS
        No, it has to be the English.

                        IVAN
        You ain't nothin' but a hound dog / Always smoking on the
        Mexican H-bomb . . .?  Perhaps you're right.  It's a very big
        problem in America, this is true.

                        BORIS
        You've been to America?

                        IVAN
        Not yet.  You?

                        BORIS
        Not yet.

                        IVAN
        Soon, if we are lucky.

                        BORIS
        To the new dawn.Š
                        IVAN
        To the new dawn.

                        BORIS
        Eight minutes.

                        IVAN
        Perhaps another?

                        BORIS
        Just a sip. . . . That dance he was doing -- won't he be
        surprised!

                        IVAN
        Won't the world be surprised!

                        BORIS
        That's the first good sense I've heard from you.  You're
        finally relaxed.

                        IVAN
        The vodka, I think.  One grows to depend on it.

                        BORIS
        It could be worse.  In Mexico, for tequila, they put worms in
        the bottle.

                        IVAN
        In America, they put preservatives.

                        DJ (on the air)
        That was the minutes of last week's meeting of the Institute
        for Inspections.  And now last week's traffic tickets . . .

                        IVAN
        Another nip?

                        BORIS
        To the new dawn.

                        IVAN
        The new dawn.

                        BORIS
        I think I will like America.

                        IVAN
        You are certain to go?

                        BORIS
        Nothing is certain, of course.  But I have good seniority.
        And you?

Š                      IVAN
        It depends on the competition.  I only have three years.

                        BORIS
        That isn't so bad any more.  Good help is hard to find.

                        IVAN
        And you?

                        BORIS
        Eight years.  I've been very lucky.

                        IVAN
        Eight is excellent seniority.

                        BORIS
        Of course, the duty is just as important.  This should be a
        fat fish egg on your plate.  Were you surprised to be chosen?

                        IVAN
        Astonished.  I would've been happy drawing a small radio
        station in the provinces.

                        BORIS
        I was surprised to get Moscow myself.

                        IVAN
        With eight years seniority?  If I were you, I would've been
        disappointed not to get something important.

                        BORIS
        There's no logic to any of it, really.  It's all fat of the
        fish egg.

                        IVAN
        Fat of the fish egg.

                        BORIS
        One more sip and back to work.  New dawn.

                        IVAN
        Dawn.

                        DJ (on the air)
        You're listening to the very best in Soviet popular
        entertainment on Sunday Caviar.  Here's last week's graduates
        from the Alcohol Rehabilitation Center, telling you what
        they've learned . . .

                        BORIS
        Any family?

                        IVAN
        No.  You?
Š                      BORIS
        A brother.  He's an alcoholic.

                        IVAN
        What rank?

                        BORIS
        Captain in the tank guard.

                        IVAN
        It must be difficult for you.

                        BORIS
        Not really.  He's also homosexual.

                        IVAN
        I understand.  I met a Catholic once.

                        BORIS
        Some people you can't change.

                (A pause.)

                        IVAN
        What time is it?

                        BORIS
        Five minutes.

                        IVAN
        I'm nervous.

                        BORIS
        It's only Marxist.

                        IVAN
        My first big assignment, really.  You must have had many.

                        BORIS
        Nothing as important as this.

                        IVAN
        This is so final.

                        BORIS
        Best coup since Bobby Fisher.

                        IVAN
        I suppose so.  I don't play chess myself.

                        BORIS
        Wonderful game.  It's the one thing I'll miss.

                        IVAN
        Why miss it when there's Bobby Fisher?Š
                        BORIS
        He's one of a kind in America.  Mostly they play video games.

                        IVAN
        I hear the caviar is also bad.

                        BORIS
        And the vodka!  I'd rather drink the Volga.

                        IVAN
        Yes, there are things to miss.

                        BORIS
        A few things, yes.

                        IVAN
        But I keep forgetting all the buildings will be left
        untouched!  Red Square, the Kremlin, the sculpture in Lenin
        Park . . . I wonder if the ducks . . . ?

                        BORIS
        No ducks, I think.

                        IVAN
        Maybe with later improvements.

                        DJ (on the air)
        Back to music now, with another classic from the Red Army
        Chorus . . . "Fighting the Yellow Hordes, I Get the Blues in
        the Night" . . .

                (DJ draws a cigarette, sees he doesn't
                have a match, then goes into the office.)

                        DJ
        Do you have a light?

                        BORIS
        Of course.

                        DJ
        Gray.  Even if it was the prison with a surplus.  Yellow
        isn't purple but . . .

                        BORIS
        Can't fight the People's Hallway.

                        DJ
        You said there was something else to sign before you can
        begin the next wall?

                        BORIS
        No hurry.
Š                      DJ
        I'm going to be tied up for a while.  Weekly Abortion Stats.
        The other DJ forgot to make a tape, I'll have to read them
        myself.

                        BORIS
        Sign here then . . .

                (DJ signs forms.)

                        DJ
        You know, thinning with vodka was a good idea.  American
        vodka is so odorless but ours gives the room a nice aroma,
        don't you think?

                (He returns to the studio.)

                        IVAN
        Boris?

                        BORIS
        Three minutes.

                        IVAN
        The old heart is really pounding.

                        BORIS
        I'll do the dirty work.  Unless you prefer.

                        IVAN
        Dirty work?

                        BORIS
        After the announcements, he'll have to be eliminated.

                        IVAN
        Of course.

                        BORIS
        Funny, isn't it?  It'll be the messiest part of the entire
        affair.  There's technological progress for you.

                        IVAN
        I suppose this day will make guns obsolete.

                        BORIS
        Long overdue, I'd say.  For Marx sake, gun powder was stolen
        from us by the Chinese centuries ago!

                        DJ (on the air)
        Soviet Caviar presents Weekly Abortion Statistics.

        Lenin Hospital, forty-seven; Dostoevsky Clinic, twenty-four;
        Tolstoy Out-Patient Lab, ninety-eight; People's Television
        Instruction, one hundred and three . . .Š
                (Suddenly air-raid signals begin to
                sound:  they will continue to the end of
                the play.)

                        IVAN
        Boris!?

                        BORIS
        It's not time!  I don't understand . . .

                (DJ rushes in.)

                        DJ
        I've got to turn on the Emergency Radio Frequency.

                        BORIS
        You are the Emergency Frequency!

                        DJ
        Baked turnips, you're right!  But I already played a People's
        Service Announcement, and no CSR's have been scheduled today.

                (BORIS draws a pistol.)

                        BORIS
        This isn't a Civilian Survival Rehearsal, comrade.

                        DJ
        Hey, what is this?

                        BORIS
        Into the station.  Very slowly.  Very carefully.

                (DJ back up into the studio, followed by
                BORIS and IVAN.)

                        DJ (as he's going)
        Those sirens -- it takes a drill or the real thing for them
        to go off.  Everyone's supposed to turn on the Emergency
        Radio Frequency and get instructions when the sirens go off.
        But I have no instructions!  What do I say?

                        BORIS
        You will go on the air and tell them that this is only a
        test.  Do not panic.  Relax.  Go about your business.  Pour a
        vodka.  This is only a test.  Got it?

                        DJ
        Only a test?

                        BORIS
        That's what you tell them.  That's what people will hear all
        over the Soviet Union.
Š                      DJ
        I don't understand.

                        BORIS
        It's very simple.  You are under attack.

                        DJ
        In that case, our missiles are retaliating this very moment.

                        BORIS
        Wrong.  Your missiles are incapacitated.  We have a new
        technology.  The neutron bombs are going to be very painless.

                        DJ
        Neutron bombs?

                        BORIS
        Very clean and very selective.  We'll even save all your
        buildings.  This will be the shortest and most sanitary war
        in human history.

                        DJ
        These neutron bombs -- they are . . . American?

                        BORIS
        American.  Now get on the air and tell your people this is
        only a test.

                (The DJ goes on the air; BORIS is
                pointing the gun at his head.)

                        DJ
        This is Moscow Emergency Frequency.  This is Moscow Emergency
        Frequency.

                (IVAN draws a pistol and points it at
                BORIS's head.)

                        IVAN
        Hold it!  Sorry, Boris.  The American neutron bombs have been
        permanently delayed.

                        BORIS
        This is no time for jokes, Ivan.  We have to get down to the
        bomb shelter.

                        IVAN
        No neutron bombs and no need to go to the shelter.  We also
        have a new technology.

                        BORIS
        But your missiles are incapacitated.


Š                      IVAN
        And so are your neutron bombs.  But we are close to weapons
        that will make your American neutron bomb look like a cap
        pistol.  It's just a matter of time, Boris.

                        DJ
        I'm supposed to be on the air!  What do I say?

                        BORIS
        I still have him covered, Ivan.  The barrel is right behind
        his skull.

                        IVAN
        As mine is behind yours, Boris.  A stupid trade, don't you
        think?  You, the CIA's top agent, for a lowly disc jockey.

                        BORIS
        That lowly disc jockey is your boss, Ivan.  Anton Basilovik,
        KGB Chief of Discrete Terrorism.  You're a fool not to know.

                        BORIS
        Basilovik?  I don't believe you.

                        DJ
        It's true.  I am Basilovik.  You work for me, Ivan.  I sign
        your food stamps.

                        IVAN
        How do I know this is true?  Prove it.

                        DJ
        I can prove it.  It's to your advantage, Boris.

                        BORIS
        Indeed, it is.

                        DJ
        I can give him the KGB secret handshake.  It's known only to
        those who graduate from the Advanced Institute.

                        BORIS
        You know this handshake, Ivan?

                        IVAN
        Of course.  I can't believe the great Basilovik would plant
        himself as a disc jockey.

                        DJ
        That's the beauty of it, Ivan.

                        IVAN
        Then give me the handshake.

                        DJ
        Boris, I'm going to have to get up to show him.Š
                        BORIS
        No funny socialism.

                (DJ rises, as BORIS keeps the gun at his
                head, IVAN keeping the gun at BORIS'
                head.  Suddenly DJ draws a pistol and
                points it at the head of IVAN.)

                        IVAN
        What is this?

                        DJ
        Listen to me, Boris.  Listen very carefully.  I know you want
        to know what happened -- how we could stop your neutron bombs
        so easily.  The secret to our new technology is in the mind
        of Ivan here.  Perhaps you know him better as . . . Professor
        Ivan Kraslovitky.

                        BORIS
         The laser genius?

                        DJ
        Exactly.  The very laser technology that incapacitated your
        neutron bombs.

                        BORIS
        The greatest genius since Einstein -- you, Ivan?  A double
        agent?

                        IVAN
        Checkmate, Boris.

                        BORIS
        I still have Basilovik's life in my hands.

                        DJ
        You do that, Boris, and I'll also pull the trigger.  The
        secret of the laser satellite will be gone with Ivan's brain.

                        IVAN
        If I go, you go, Boris.

                        BORIS
        If I go, you go, Basilovik.

                        DJ
        If I go, you go, Ivan.

                        IVAN
        You already said that.

                (A pause: the sirens continue: the
                threesome are circling now, each with a
                gun at the head of the other.)Š
                (As the lights stay up on the threesome,
                a spot comes up on NATASHA downstage, and
                she addresses the audience:)

                        NATASHA
        As soon as I heard the sirens I thought, Lenin's liver!, it's
        another malfunction and now they'll say they have to improve
        the equipment again, which means they have to raise taxes
        again.  More money out of my paycheck and out of Nicolai's
        paycheck.  They never schedule a Civilian Survival Rehearsal
        on Sunday -- they schedule them on Friday, so they can go
        home early after checking the equipment.  Or go to a bistro.

        The phone rings and I guess it's Nicolai, calling to
        complain, "here we go again, Moscow is falling apart at the
        seams."  But it's my friend Lyuba, who worries that it's the
        real thing.

        How absurd!  We know the equipment is malfunctioning all the
        time.  I had a dream, Lyuba says.  I tell her to drink some
        vodka for her dream and don't worry.

        The phone rings again and this time it's Nicolai:  "Take the
        children to the Public Shelter," he says.  "And hurry!"

        Nicky, what are you talking about?  They never have a CSR on
        Sunday.  This is another ploy to raise taxes.

        "All the factories are closing," he says.  "America has
        launched an attack."

        No, impossible.  Even the Americans aren't that crazy.  I
        know, our government says we can survive a nuclear war but
        nobody believes this, the Russian people understand that this
        is still another excuse to raise taxes, all this nonsense
        about building underground shelters.  Who would want to live
        in the aftermath of such a war?  Besides, we've paid a very
        dear price for peace, so many Russian soldiers dead in World
        War II . . .

        But Americans never fight wars on their own soil.  What do
        they know of suffering?  Maybe this makes them restless.
        "How can you trust a people with no culture?" Nicolai asks.
        This is a valid point.  America has no opera.  America has no
        poetry.  They lock up their poets in Universities, away from
        the people.  America thinks music is rock and roll.  What
        major figure has their literature produced?  Well, William
        Faulkner, but he's the exception.  Where are the Tolstoys and
        Chekhovs and Dostoevskis?  Remember -- America is only two
        hundred years old!  A mere child in the international
        community, and children can be reckless.

        "Hurry and take the children to the Public Shelter," Nicolai
        says.  "Everything will be all right."Š                        NATASHA (cont.)
        What an optimist Nicolai is!  Who would want to live in this
        world after such a war?

        I hang up and call the children:  "Nicolai! Marta! Vladi!
        Yes, I hear the sirens.  It means . . . well, I want you to
        get your jamies and a change of clothes.  No, we're not
        waiting for daddy.  Just do as I say.

        "Marta, don't cry.  I don't like the sirens either.  It means
        we have to go down to the shelter for a while, that's all.
        This is a test.  They're testing the equipment, is all.  And
        our test is to hurry down to the shelter.  We don't want to
        fail, do we?  Hurry along.  Yes, you can take bring your
        books. You can bring your chess sets."

        I don't believe this is happening.  Why don't the sirens
        stop?  This can't be the real thing, people are circulating
        petitions against the real thing all the time.  They've come
        by our apartment more than once, asking for signatures,
        asking people to write the editor, not to pay their taxes.  I
        thought they had lots of people behind them.  I didn't think
        my signature would matter one way or another, they had plenty
        of support.

        "Okay, children, let's go!  Papa's going to meet us in the
        shelter!"

        I'd better take our robes.  A change of clothes for Nicolai
        and myself.  Toothbrushes!

        The children are calling, "Hurry, momma, hurry, hurry!
        People are running down the street!"

        I don't want these sirens!  I protested against this!
        Where's the petition?  I want to sign the petition!  I want
        to write the editor!  I want to sing at the rally!  I won't
        pay my taxes, do you hear?  I won't pay one ruble for this
        war!  I meant to protest -- I was there in spirit . . .!

                (Hold on NATASHA's face, frightened,
                shocked: then the focus fades to the
                threesome again, circling, each with a
                gun at the head of the other, circling
                like trapped animals.  Finally:)

                        DJ
        Perhaps we should reach an understanding about this . . .

                (The continue to circle.  The sirens rise
                to a loud wailing, the lights dim to
                BLACKOUT.  In the darkness, we still hear
                the sirens, very close now, coming from
                all around us.  We hear the sirens in the
                darkness.  Sirens.)Š
                (Then:  sudden, chilling, deafening
                SILENCE.)


                (The play is over.)

                                  __________

                                   APPENDIX

                      YOU AIN'T NOTHIN' BUT A HOUND DOG

               as sung by the Russian pop star, Danny Car Wash



        Vwee nee-chee-VOH noh ah-KHOHT-neech-yah sah-BAH-ka
        Fsig-DAH kahk LO-sheet star-rye-YAH
         (repeat 2 lines above)
        Nee lah-VEE-lee nee krah-LEE-kah
        Nee khag-DAH neh-BWEE-lee nee droo-GAH

        "Ah-ree-stah-KRAHT!", ah-NEE skah-ZAHL-lee
        Nee-PRAHV-dah EH-tah BWEE-lah
         (repeat 2 lines above)
        Nee lah-VEE-lee nee krah-LEE-kah
        Nee khag-DAH neh-BWEE-lee nee droo-GAH