 It's academic and it's theater. It's the place where they both meet. We have vloggers and parties next door as well. Examples of women sharing what it is they need to share and how they do that. There's nobody you can ignore at the end of this anymore. We're from all over the world. You can kind of see and talk about what time is it now. It started out about different people and about different things. To see the phenomenon, the universe of everybody, yes, everybody. Welcome to the Segal Theater Center and the Penmore Voices International Play Festival. My name is Anshir Ibel. I'm the co-curator of the play festival. You're about to see almost equal to a new play by Eunice Hassan-Kimuri, translated by Rachel Wilson-Poyles. Both of them are here. Directed by Dan Rothenberg. Following the reading, there will be a discussion with translator, playwright and director, moderated by Kate Lowald, the artistic director of the play company, who has produced two of Eunice's plays in the past. Before we start with the reading, I would like to thank the Swedish Arts Council for their support. And don't forget to turn off your cell phones and enjoy the reading. By Eunice Hassan-Kimuri. I'm falling. I lose my balance. I fall over the edge and then time stops. And I wake up in a lecture hall. I'm alone. I thought I was alone, but then I look out at the audience and I realize that there are a lot of people sitting out there. Like a lot of people. And they're looking at me, and I'm looking at them. Don't believe everything that you hear. The history of economics is not boring, right? It's not soulless. It's not a bunch of dry theories and graphs. In fact, it's the opposite. The history of economics is full of scattered brains and free thinkers, theses and madmen, theorists who smothered, who smothered, so smothered by the ages they lived in that they felt compelled to use their knowledge to create viable, alternative worlds, worlds that still shimmer and fill those of us who are left behind with hope and courage. For example, Kasper S. van Houten. Now, the year is 1828. Kasper S. van Houten in Amsterdam has just patented the hydraulic press that will revolutionize the production of cocoa powder. The year van Houten makes a fortune. He becomes one of Europe's most renowned producers of chocolate. But at the end of the pinnacle of his career, he decides to take a step back. Why? Researchers have scoured his diaries for clues. In March of 1841, he writes, I've been afflicted by an emptiness I cannot bring myself out of it. In August of 1841, I missed the days when I had an appetite to life. In February of 1842, everything seems so empty. Is this really all there is to, to life? That's what he wrote, word for word. To, to life. An accidental repetition. It happened to Kasper S. van Houten. Some people claim that he had been struck by what we would call depression today. Huh? Melancholy. Hogwash. Other researchers have put forth the theory that he was sexually frustrated. That's nonsense. There are even those who claim that van Houten, at the height of his career, was seized by the fear of Mamona, the goddess of wealth and the market. What, as if I would believe in such a superstition? Mamona. The name comes from the Latin word mamma, riches, belongings, and it also means someone, something to be trusted. Do I look like a mystic? What we do know is that that, is that Kasper S. van Houten sold his operation in September of 1842. At a loss to my incompetent son. He returned to the university and spent the rest of his life deepening his knowledge in four subjects. Economics just prevents the growth habits of small plants and the main cause of dust. Three weeks before his death he formulated the economic hypothesis that would become, that would come to be called van Houten's theory. I will attempt to understand and quantify an experience. Let's look at a practical example. The year is 2016. Fifty people decide to invest ten dollars in the hope of having an unforgettable experience. So fifty people times ten dollars equals five hundred dollars. Thus van Houten's theorem teaches us in all of its simplicity that the collective goal of this investment is to procure entertainment worth at least five hundred dollars. Let us call this value UX or the expected user experience. Or in modern terminology minimal acceptable, minimum acceptable rate of return often abbreviated as MARR. Thus UX is the value everyone ought to have in mind before making an investment in an experience. If the experience delivers an entertainment value greater than UX it is sound investment. A successful evening. However if the entertainment value falls short of UX the investment is unsound. All that remains is the stale taste of regret. This is what he writes in his diary. And the insight that one has wasted his energy on a transient experience like chocolate or theater. Three weeks later he breathes his last. The act takes place in Anders memories of the period when he was unemployed. I'm sorry to bother you but my name is Peter and I have a little problem. I just found out that my sister has been involved in a car accident. She was run over. She's in the hospital. She's in serious but stable condition. I just talked to her and she's probably going to be okay. Don't believe her. It would really be awfully kind if someone could help me out with a little bit of money so I can travel down there and visit her. It doesn't have to be much. Just a dollar or two or maybe five. He says that all the time. Maybe someone has some loose change in their pocket or their purse. Noah? Just a few cents? So I can travel down there and visit my sister? A dollar or two? Maybe a five? A dollar or two or maybe a five. She was run over. She was on her way home from work. Someone shoved her into the street. I need money for a transit. I just want to travel down there and visit her. Noah? Thanks anyway. Have a nice evening. It started last fall. I'm sorry to bother you but... I was on my way home. I was going up the escalator. I passed through the turnstiles and there... Mine? My name is Pew. There he was. And I'm homeless. He had blonde hair, tattoos on his hands and piercings in his face. I needed a little money for food and shelter. After that, I saw him every day. When I was on my way to night class, when I was buying food, when I was picking up my little brother from some friend's house. Hi, my name is Peter and I'm homeless. And it didn't take long before I caught on that this dude, he was a fucking pro. Hi, my name is Peter. Nothing about his behavior was left to change. Hi, my name is Peter and I'm homeless. In the daytime, he stood between the flower shop and the bakery so that his stink would be masked by the scent of flowers and fresh buns. In the evenings, when there weren't as many people around, he stood further down the tunnel and held open the door for people who were trying to make it to the bus. Here you go. Have a nice evening. And on payday, he always stood over by the ATM. Hi, my name is Peter. A little help for the homeless? Or a little help for a bogus homeless dude who knows exactly how to cheat his way to as much cash as possible. And every day, that same goddamn monster. Hi, my name is Peter. Yeah, we know. Hi, my name is Peter and I live on the street. No, you don't. Dollar or two, maybe a five. Okay, that's enough. I was the only one who saw through him. Sure, maybe he smelled bad and had scars on his arms, but at the same time... He sensed for a warm meal. He had a cell phone. A little help so I don't have to sleep that long. No, for real, a seriously flashy cell phone. And every time he got a call, he would walk out a little ways so people wouldn't notice. Maybe a five? Honestly, what kind of a homeless dude has a phone like that? And sure, he had a shocking cart full of returnable bottles, but guess what was hidden underneath? Just guess. A guitar case. With a guitar in it. No, okay then. Well, thank you anyway. Have a nice trip. And plus, there was something wrong with his voice. No, okay then. Well, thank you anyway. Have a nice trip. Instead of just learning his words and cursing, he talked sort of like this, with his voice up high, kind of like an actor or something. No, okay then. Well, thank you anyway, my dear sir. Dude, that's exactly how we talk. But I was the only one who saw through them. Everyone else just showered him in ones and fives and one time I saw the lady giving him a ten because he had made up some lie about how he needed some money to go visit his sister. Thank you so much. This will go straight to my travel funds. She's gonna be so happy. That's exactly what he said. So happy. Sure. Like he had a sister who had been run over. It was so obvious he was lying. And I promised myself that I would never be like him. I was gonna finish my night class, learn the system, and get myself a job with huge salary. Christmas bonus, beautiful secretary, flashy company car. But of course, I would keep helping my mom with a rent to shoot never again. You have to set up all night with a calculator worrying about the next power bill. But you have to watch out for Mamona. What did you say, Mom? Mamona. Don't you let Mamona get her sharp claws into you. Don't worry about it. Because what would happen then? What will happen if Mamona gets into your head? I would start to see the world through Mamona's eyes. And your hands. They would become Mamonas. And your thoughts. They would become Mamonas. And soon you can't do your friends a favor without asking for money. And you can't help your own mother without sending an invoice. And your pupils turn into tiny little black dollar signs. Don't worry. Your morals will turn into a balance sheet. No problem, Mom. I'm not gonna... Your family will turn into the variables. Okay, I get it. I get it. I'll watch out for Mamona. I won't end up like that. I will stay myself. And I won't think only about money. Good. That's all I ask. I will not buy an apartment where the elevator opens directly into the front hall and there's a sound system that knows when I arrive and turns itself on. And there will not be a TV in the kitchen. And a bedroom will not have a real walk-in closet, the kind of light that comes on as soon as you open the door with rows and rows of shiny polished shoes and soft ties and special books and jackets that sell out the price tags on them. No. I will keep cutting my own hair. And I will never order an on-strain without checking the price first. Just a plain old job. That was my plan. But nothing went as planned. That oven went on and my own class ended. And I got the second-best grades in the class. And back for the last class, I stopped by the liquor store. Excuse me. Yes? The champagne. Where is it? We have it right over here. And as we walked toward the right shelf, she was thinking... Champagne? What do you want champagne for? But instead, she said... Is there any particular sort of champagne you were looking for? It was a simple question. I should have been able to answer it. Hello? Is there any particular sort of champagne you were looking for? Excuse me. Oh, sure. Of course. Something with lots of carbonation. I'm sure we'll be able to find something. This one, for example, has plenty of bubbles. This one is nice, too. It's a bit drier with hints of apple, chocolate, and minerals. Listen, you know, you can always buy sparkling wine instead. It has bubbles, of course. And it tastes more or less the same as champagne. But it's considerably cheaper. No, no. We want champagne, real champagne. No imposters. We have a degree to celebrate. Oh, how lovely. In that case, I would recommend this one. She held out the bottle, and I recognized the label. It had some French names. It's a true classic. I checked the price. Was there anything else? 80 bucks. Hope you enjoy it. 80 fucking dollars. Thank you. I held the bottle tight. I walked to the cash register. There was a line. I stood at the end of it. Mamona. Watch out for Mamona. I was trying to make people happy. 80 dollars for some bubbles. I kept standing there. Didn't you hear me? 80 dollars. That's two pairs of shoes. That's food for a week. I looked down at the bottle. Hello. It's almost half a month's subway pass. That's eight pizzas. When the line didn't move, I went back and switched out the bottle for sparkling wine. Good job. The bottle was the same size and it was like the same color. When I went home, I told them about my grades and showed them my diploma and told my little brother that it was real champagne. What? Seriously? Real champagne kind of tastes. Are you crazy? Come on, just a little. Quit it. Just one drop. You're 13. Just a sip. Come on, just one sip. Okay. Cheers to the future. Wow yum. So what so like you can get a job anywhere now? Pretty much because it was pretty much true and what we were drinking was pretty much champagne. Mom looked pretty much happy. How much? How much did it cost the champagne? Oh, don't worry about it. Just enjoy it. Seriously, how much did it cost? Not that much. But how much? Mom, it doesn't matter. Yes, it does matter. For me, it matters. It's sparkling wine, okay? It costs like eight bucks. But don't say anything to Ivan. I can tell it's real. The fishy thing was, instead of getting disappointed, she looked happy. Her shoulder's intense and she took a big sip and when my little brother wanted to take some more, she lied to him. And I thought about that later on. Now, she seemed to be incapable of enjoying anything expensive. And how relaxed she got when she found that it was cheap. And I remember that time my little brother found out that this coat he got was new, not a handyman for me. And how he like, he couldn't believe that it had never been worn before. That it was brand spanking new. And he asked about it over and over. What do you mean it's never been worn before? It's new? Yeah, but I mean, no one has ever worn it before? No, you didn't. It's new. What? Like, even you never worn it before? No, you idiot, it's new. We just bought it. Stop asking. And he put on his coat more around inside for hours, even though it was this like gross shade of green and black lining. That argument broke out because mom wanted him to take it off to sleep and he refused. And the next day he wanted to wear the breakfast table and sure, things were a little tight, but it was me and my little brother and my mom, it was the world. And now everything was going to turn around. I could just heal it. On Monday I went to the employment agency to register myself and I wasn't sure how it all worked, so I walked up to the information desk and the lady behind the register looked up from her computer with eyes that were almost as tired as moms after a double shift. Yes. Hi, I was just wondering how I can get registered. Get registered? Yes. As a job seeker? As a job seeker. Yeah, I mean, I need a job. A job. A job. It's not too complicated. Okay. You start by taking four steps back. Can you do that? Then turn your head 60 or 65 degrees to the left. What does it say there on the sign? That if you want to register as a job seeker you have to take a number. So now you need to take a number. Which number did you get? 54. Now you just have to sit down and wait your turn. Can you do that? Wait your turn. I went back and sat down. 47. I waited. 48. I remained calm. I did not jump over the counter. I did not beat her up. I did not kick her unconscious. 50. Instead I got up and browsed the public computer for job opening. 51. There were tons of them. Audit executives. Sales agents. Accountants. 52. Executive assistants. Business consultants. 53. 53. No 53. 54. Here. Welcome. Andre. Come on in. What can I do for you today? I'd like to get registered as a job seeker. Sure thing. Get that done on a Jiffy. Now I don't suppose you happen to have a resume with you. I do. Wonderful. And don't tell me. You also brought a transcript. Yes. Here it is. That's fantastic. And I don't suppose there's any chance of you completing some sort of post-secondary schooling as well. I just finished an evening course in basic economics and marketing. Brilliant. Then we'll enter you into the system right away. I printed out a few jobs that looked like they might be a good fit. Interesting. Interesting. It sounded more like he was saying... In the cell. In the cell. In the cell. Excuse me. Well, I mean, I believe many of these employers require slightly different types of experience in education than what you have. But what would you say to sanitation? Sanitation. Mm-hmm. Sanitation. You appear to be in good physical shape. Do you have any experience working with pressure washers? No. I mean, I'm really hoping to work with something along the lines of finance or marketing or like sales, like an executive assistant. Couldn't I start by applying a job like that? Sure. You're right. You have nothing to lose by applying. And you don't think my last name will be a roadblock? I'm sorry. My last name? I don't think that would be a roadblock. And if it is a roadblock, then it's wrong for it to be a roadblock. Very wrong. But I hope it won't be a roadblock. But here, just to be on the safe side, take this as well. And then he handed me a list of companies that were looking for industrial sanitation workers. I went home and started applying for jobs. But the guy at the appointment agency was wrong. You had nothing to lose by applying. Bullshit. You lose time. You lose 49 cents for each stamp. 10 cents per envelope. 15 cents for each time you print. And 25 cents for each grade transcript. So that's 9. 49 plus 10 plus 15 plus 25 equals 99 cents, let's say, $1 for every application. $1 is nothing. It's a gas station ice cream. It's two packs of rum. I applied for 10 jobs. 10 jobs times $1 is $10. So $10 is a movie ticket. I applied for 20 jobs. So $20 isn't all that much either. It's dinner and a beer at a crappy restaurant. I applied for 40 jobs. Okay. Let's see what you say. But no matter what I did, the response was always the same. First, it was a lengthy silence. And then an envelope. And the thought that now, it will finally happen. Hello. Thanks for your interest. Many, many applications. The uncomplicated process. Unfortunately turned out... You are not, not, not the one we are looking for. And it is not just because of your bizarrely long and extremely unpronounceable last name. You're underqualified. You are untalented. You look ugly in your attached photo. You're a dumbass. We're laughing at you. We put your application on the fridge in the break room and every time we walk by, we laugh at you like this. Look at this. Dumbass, we say. Holding our hands up to our mouths so we don't spray everyone with history crime. That's dumbass, father. Night class, night drama. Other two ask us why we don't move out, why we don't have a job, why we just sit at home licking envelopes all day. But I didn't give up. I thought that if I gave up, I would be just like everyone else. I lowered my standards. I applied to janitor jobs. I applied to industrial sanitizing jobs. I applied and applied and always the same answer, the same letters, the same phone calls. Unfortunately. And every time I went down to the convenience store by stamps, I saw that little shit Peter standing there with this paper cup full of money. Hi. My name is Peter. I'm homeless. He had made changes. Hi. My name is Peter. He doesn't like guitar. He was diversifying his message based on the personal preferences of his customers. Hi. My name is Peter. For a dollar, I'm gonna play a song. I believe the children are our future. Teach them well and let them leave the... Oh, oh wait, oh wait. For a dollar, I'll stop singing. He understood the market potential of variation. Hi. My name is Peter and I'm three bucks away from being able to buy some vino. I don't suppose he could help me out. Sometimes he was honest. Sometimes he tried to joke around. Hi. My name is Peter and I'm the CEO of a listed company. Give me a dollar or two to cover my next bailout. But this particular time he was going with the crying method. He sat there in silence with fake tears in his eyes, rocking back and forth, hugging his knees and checking his phone. And I passed him without seeing him. I went to the convenience store, bought my stamps and then on the way home. Excuse me. My name is Peter and I just met up and my sister was run over and I need my career training ticket so I can go visit her. I don't suppose he could... or fuck your sister. We were transported to Andre's family's home. Then I went home. I stood in front of the mirror. I tried out my nervy clothes, my black graduation jacket with my white shirt and despite the sweatpants, I looked like someone in my job who belonged somewhere. Oh, hello. How are you? Your hair looks so nice today. New tie. How about this awful weather? I'll put it in your mailbox by 2. So did you get up to anything fun last weekend? How's it going? Fine. What are you up to? Nothing much. There's a snack in the fridge. But instead of going straight to the kitchen, my brother went to his room to get something and then he went out again. When he came home, I asked what he was doing. What? What the hell did you do? Did you just get home? I had to run out. I had something to do. What do you mean something you had to do? To take care of some stuff. What do you mean take care of some stuff? You're 13 years old. You don't have anything to take care of. Tell me what you were doing. I had to drop something off. What kind of something? There was a person I had to help. What are you talking about? My brother didn't want to say and I could tell something was wrong with him. Come on. Who are you going to help? And how? Tell me. Don't think you can pull a fast one on me. Look, do you need help with anything? So I'm going to be in India at school? No. There's nothing like that. I was helping a homeless guy. I live on the guitar. His sister got run over. He needed money for a drink. You gave him money? How much? Quit it. Tell me how much you gave him. How much did you give him? Tell me how much you gave him. You gave him a five. Did you give him more than a five? Tell me right now you fucking little gull pussy. How much did you give him? Don't tell me you gave him a ten. It wasn't my money. What do you mean your money? You got your money from mom and she gets it from her boss. It was not your fucking money. How much did you give him? I can do whatever I want with my money. Yeah, you're right. Of course you can do whatever you want with your money. But just tell me. I'm curious. How much did you give him? Was it more than a ten? I swear I won't do anything. Just tell me so I know. How much was it? And I admit it. I was a little frustrated. He roared. What are you? Totally fucking stupid? I was annoyed. He shouted. You gullible fucking little idiot pussy. How the hell did you believe him? I said I was going to go down to the metro and have a talk with that homeless guy. I'm going to find that cocksucker. Do you hear me? I'm going to find him and teach him a lesson. You don't fucking take money from children. You just don't. I left the apartment and took the elevator down the street. I can tell there was going to be a fight. There was no fights. I did not let my rage get to better. His knuckles were bloody when he got back. I went over there and I talked to the homeless guy and convinced him to give me back my money. You washed his hands in the bathroom and got red stains on the towel. I went to my brother's room and I handed him the $50 bill and apologized for losing my temper. He said, Why are you crying? Are you a fag? I explained that we have to stick together. We're a family. We can't trust anyone, especially not fucking homeless people who will say anything for money. He said, If you give your money away again, I will kill you. Do you hear me? I will kill you. I comforted him. He said, Now stop crying or else I'll beat on you too. Then we hugged and I went to my own room. We made up, didn't we? One month later they called from the convenience store and asked if I wanted to come in and work for a trial period. I was finally on my way. Moving on up. Interlude. Manny sits at the edge of the stage. I stay put, lying in the same position, falling without falling. I lie there flat out, stiff breeze in my hair, birds motionless in the sky, the ground and the gravel and the bike rack far away. I have all the time in the world and no one at work has realized what's going on. One of the guys is reaching for his thermos. His armpit hair glistens in the sun and another guy is about to stand up. He's stooping. He said he's performing a dance move and he will stand like that forever. He will never stand up and I will never. The year is 1973. Laura Lorenzo is about to begin studying pre-law at the prodigious Stanford University when the United States National Bank in San Diego collapses. Collapses? What do you mean collapses? The bank goes under. But my parents have all their savings there. They're retirement money. My college fund. Nothing more. So where is it? The money? It's gone. Disappeared. Went up in the smoke. Speculated away. Why who? Conrad Arnold Smith. Bank director, tuna fish producer, baseball fanatic, and Nixon lover. Wasn't it a large, well-established bank? I know tons of people into their banking there. Deposit's totally more than one billion dollars vanished in the collapse. I think he spent a long time in jail. He did? Eight months. And $30,000 in damages. Completely none of it. So, now what? How are my parents supposed to... Well, Laura's father sells his farm and looks for a job as a long-distance bus driver. Laura's mother gets a job at a beauty salon. What about me? Laura is forced to stay in San Diego. She gets a job selling tickets at a movie theater on the side and starts studying economics at a local university. Thus, UX is the value everyone ought to have in mind before making an investment in an experience. And this is where she encounters Van Halten's theorem, and she thinks... What a load of bullshit. This guy has never had to decide not to do something. A few weeks later, she has worked out a formula that she boldly called... Lorenzo's Law. Formulated on August 24, 1976. After an evening shift at work. Lorenzo writes... Van Halten's theorem needs an update. Because an experience is never just an experience. Every experience has alternative costs and a time aspect. Or to be more scientific. An effective experience must deliver a value of UX plus R plus T, where UX is Van Halten's coefficient of entertainment, R stands for the audience's expenditures for spatial transportation, and T represents time. So UX plus R plus T, where R represents all the expenses that the investing party has accrued in order to transport himself to the experience in question. Can this give you the cost to gas, parking fees, or train tickets? Could be some nourishment with which the investor has filled his body in order to have the energy to leave home. The T in the formula stands for the potential loss of time that an investor ought to be compensated for. As Lorenzo herself writes in the article she submits to the journal Econometrica in March of 1977. I assure this, at this very moment, a person who is invested in an experience could be doing something completely different. Petting a cat, or teaching a grandchild like a fireman, or getting drunk, or starting a revolution. And this is what Van Halten overlooked. The article is not accepted due to its lack of scientific talent. Idiots. Much later, the article is discovered by a certain doctoral candidate in the history of economics who is known for entertaining alternative lectures. Inspired by freeze thinkers such as Van Halten and Lorenzo, he begins to work on his utopian dissertation, which will destroy capitalism from within. Last two. I was at work at the convenience store writing up a plan. All we need is a little bit of land. Not much. 40 acres. Or 25, that would be enough. 50 acres of fields. Three for vegetables and seven for pasture. Everything will be certified organic and cruelty-free and biodynamic. Hi, do you have scratch-off tickets? Of course. How many? Two. Three tickets. There you go. You don't get that many animals. Maybe 20 or 25 views. A few lands. A ram. A few geese. Maybe some ducks. Like 30 hens. One scratch-off ticket, please. There you go. In our fields, we grow grass for grazing. Fall corn, oats, spelt and potatoes. And in the vegetable garden, we grow carrots, onions, beets, white cabbage, red cabbage, kohlrabi, rutabagas, parsnips, leeks, spring beans, butter beans, pickling cucumbers. Hi, do you have a post and a scratch-off ticket, please? There you go. All we need is a tractor. A simple little tractor. And electric slippers for sharing the sheet. Excuse me? Yes? Yes? Can I help you with something? My stamps? Oh, sure. I'm sorry. Here you go. A post-off ticket, too? No, thanks. That's all. Hold on. Yes, a wood. Here you go. The house is simple. A composting toilet indoors and outhouse, too. Heated by a wood stove. We'll get our hot water from a thermal tank. The wood will come from the farce, and the fish will come from the lake, and the apples will come from the orchard. Hey, listen. I don't suppose you're hiring. I'm between jobs right now, and my background is in sales and in marketing. I can see quite a bit of underutilized sales. I don't think we need anyone just right now, but I'm not the owner, so you can always drop off an application. I'll just put that here, and we'll be in touch if anything comes up. Thanks. Thank you so much. Where was I? The earth. The self-sufficiency. What about the smell? Martina, too, a copy of Martina and Edges. What? What will we do about the smell? What smell? The earth. The earth. The self-sufficiency. What about the smell? Martina, too. A copy of Martina and Edges. What? What will we do about the smell? What smell? The outhouse, the composting, the toilet, the manure. How long have we been working here? Six months? Two years, four months, and three days. We still haven't gotten used to this smell. It's not complaining. Coffee, homeless people, old fruit, newspaper, ink. Look, we can go home soon, and then we have to meet with the job coach. Do you know what we should do before then? Buy some new perfume. We can't afford new perfume. Maybe we can call our parents. New perfume! Do you hear me? We have everything we need. We have a perfectly adequate job. Which we hate. We have an apartment. A damn two-room apartment with alcoholic neighbors in the neighborhood that our friends are afraid to visit. We have a boyfriend. Cheeto-shaped, financially incompetent. Well, we have a wonderful daughter. That's true. We want for nothing. Nothing? Nothing. Except a career. But that will change soon. Martina, too. Show's Martina the job coach. I finally went in. Nice elevator. I signed in with a receptionist and took a seat in the waiting room. Nice coffee machine. Yeah, this is a really promising one. I went to the bathroom. Look at this toilet paper. And when it came back out, there she was. Welcome. She introduced herself, and we went into our office. She smells so good. Hi. Is this the first time you've met with a job coach? I nodded and looked up at the clock. Oh my God, I'm dying. Look at that clock. Are you feeling nervous? Not a fortune. No, not particularly. That's great. Well, how about if I start by explaining how this usually goes? Shall I? So, the package your parents have purchased includes nine coaching sessions, 12 open seminars, which are completely voluntary, and then there's what we call a disk analysis. And she spoke I thought about other things. Disk stands for dominance, inducement, submission, and compliance. Where dominance has to do with power and control. Interesting. But the house felt a good prop to have in the rotation because it's easy to grow and it's foliage suppresses weeds. Submission is more about patience and persistence. Potatoes are good because it helps the dirt and fights the weeds. Please, listen. I also think we'll need a few role-playing exercise to help you feel confident when it comes to your next job interview. I thought about my family's strange relationship to money and Felicia was at daycare and on Solve, who was on her death bed, and that voice I had started hearing again and the minutes were ticking by. My goal during these sessions is to help you reach your goal. Do you understand? Wow, time flies when you're having fun. Do you have any questions for me? Me? Yes. Is there anything that you're wondering about? How much does the clock cost? Where does she guard for few? Questions? Of course I have questions. Why does everything feel so wrong? How can the banking sector be who are driven by our entire economy? What is heading for ruin? How am I supposed to wear my hands on 25 acres of cropland? How do you rent a bunker? Where do you buy gas masks? Masks and survivals, and protective suits? And why is it good for parsnips to be sewn after cabbages? What kind of perfume are you wearing? Shut up! Why do people say, I see, and how long do you plan to stay there when I tell them about my job? And why does everyone say that I need to fulfill my potential? In dollars and in percents? Me? Why am I standing here thinking up all these questions when deep down inside I know I will never ask them? Anything? Anything at all? No. I don't think so. Okay. How about if I ask you this instead? What is your personal goal for these sessions? Where would you like to be when we're done seeing each other? I would like, or, yeah, I would really like to be rid of this voice inside my head. I'm not a voice. Voice? Okay. I'm your true self. Well, I guess it might sound weird, but sometimes when I'm by myself, not just when you're by yourself. I feel like I hear a voice in my head that isn't me at all. Which I would really like to get rid of. And what does this voice sound like? Like God himself. Like a very, very irritating person. Haters gotta hate. And voices are exactly my specialty. But where do you think it comes from this voice? Heaven, my family. And what would happen if you started to obey the voice? My life. Who would you become if you followed the advice of this voice? She's good. I would be like everyone else in my family. And all I care about would be money. And I'd quit my job at the convenience store. I'd go back to school for something totally discussively boring. And then I would tell Manny about my family's money and then he'd want to get married and then he would get infected by the voice and we would have a wedding. Just like my sisters. And now it is time for the lovely couple to exchange their vows, Martina. My darling, darling. I love you. I want to spend my life with you. A wise man once said, what else is life but a wonderful pursuit of various kinds of capital. Financial capital. Financial capital. And social capital. You are all these types of capital. Get along. I love you with all my heart yesterday, today and forever. Thank you. Manny? My darling, darling. I promise to continue investing as much as I can. I promise to continue investing as much as I can. As much as I possibly can in our relationship. My demand for your supply will always have an incredibly elastic price sensitivity. And it's no secret how I feel about ineffective markets. But the monopoly that you have on my heart is something I will never, never want to dissolve. And the time we spent together has steadily increasing surplus dividend. And that is why I want to build a financial entity with you. And create future consumers who will contribute to the GDP and increase our expected earnings. May we not have to take too many bets with our goods. I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride, but before you do, here's the receipt for my participation in this incredibly beautiful ceremony. And to all the rest of you, I just want to say that in addition to weddings, I also do funerals, baptisms, and birthday parties. Sounds like we have an exciting journey ahead of us, but that's all the time we have for today. Alrighty. I stood up to leave. Thank you for how much she cost. I said thank you. How much do you cost? I put out my hand and said just one more thing, but it might be a little personal. Go ahead. How much do you charge? Excuse me? How much do you cost? How much are my parents paying for this? Do you feel that it is a gravy pours for you to know? Come on. I'm not stupid. I saw the secretary and the coffee machine and the tea lights and the toilet paper. So of course I'm curious about how much you cost. Give me a ballpark figure. Do you cost more than $100 per hour? Is it important for you to have an exact number? Do I have 150? Do they pay you more than $200 per hour? Say they did. Say your parents had chosen to pay more than $200 per session. Isn't that a sign of how much they care about you? How important it is for them for you to fulfill your... No, don't say that word. I hate that word. Forget it. I just want to know how much your time is worth. My time is worth $8 an hour under the table. No matter we can pay, no social security. That's how much I earn when I stand behind a counter at a convenience store and get my time is still far too valuable for me to ever come back here. No. What are you doing? Say your story. I walked to the lobby. I passed the reception. No. Come back. Don't run away. I knew I would never come back here again. And Felicia fell down in daycare and ripped a hole in her snow suit. $50 for a new one. And his bike was stolen. Shit. $100 by when we used it. And I did my shopping at different stores to find sales. And I tweaked recipes so they would fit our budget. And when it said salmon, I used to pollock. And when it said pine nuts, I didn't use any pine nuts. And when Mom put my cell phone, I answered. Hello. What's going on? I'm sold out faster than I am. How is Dad doing? Who's going to get the college? When is the funeral? Ask what we got. Ask what we got. Was it? Was there any? Did she leave a will? The college. Tell me we got a college. The china and the tea service. Wow. That's cool. No. No. I will take good care of it. Let's go get the college. Who got the college? Maybe this is an awkward question, but who got the college? Is it Angelica? No. Of course. No. I understand. She is such a great mom. No. That's so great for her. Say it's not fair. Tell her hi. Congratulations. Welcome to the funeral. I'll see you at the funeral. Oh no. I'll ask off from work. And I did. I took time off. I rode the commuter train to the church, and all the while I tried to remind myself that I am not her. No. You're really not. I sat in the second row of the piers, dressed in black, and I listened to the organ music, and I mourned on Solvee's death. I sat beside her and thought about how much the tea service would be worth. I thought about the scattered memories I had of on Solvee. Either at a pawn shop or online. The time she showed me how to use an egg beater. Maybe it would be better to just divide it up and sell it separately, spoon by spoon. Big round tears rolled down my cheek. We could melt down the tea service and make one solid lump of silver. I thought about the cottage. I wondered how much the cottage's worth compared to the tea service. I thought about everything we could have done with the cottage. Build up a self-sustaining, small-scale farm. Or quickly put it in Felicia's name to avoid taxes and then renovate it and re-sol it. The funeral was over and I went back to work. I relieved Erica. I came along. She had been smoking in the storeroom and there were two ice cream wrappers in the office ways best. Check and see if they're written down on the employee purchase log. No, of course not. Incredible. Two ice creams a day once a week is over $100 per year. But I calmed down. Told myself it wasn't that much money. Every little job counts. I stacked newspapers and refilled the ice in the soda machine and hid old fruit behind fresh fruit. And I waved at Peter. Peter. What? Why are you waving at him? Because I like him. He's nice. He's not like the other homeless people. I have a policy. I only say hello to people who are contributing members of society. Lay off. He's not doing any harm. The question is, what good does he do? He calms down. I feel sorry for him. Don't feel sorry for him. I never went back to the job coach. I kept working at the convenience store. And I sold the china and tea service online. For a while it seemed like I had conquered the voice. One weekend I went into the city to go to an eco-friendly market. And the people behind the stands looked so friendly and happy and tan. And I wanted to buy it all, but I couldn't afford it. So once I had tasted everything there was to taste, I asked if they took cards and they said, no. So I said, I would be back soon. Save that cucumber for me. I said, and that cheese. Then I kept walking through the city and I tried not to think about how worn out my clothes were compared to everyone else's. Then my phone rang and it was Angelica. But I answered it anyway. Hi, sweetie. How are you? Fine, thanks. How are all of you? I'm so great. Thanks. Really, really great. Actually. I could hear in her voice. It was so wonderful that happened. You know that cottage? She was rallishing this. That cottage we got from S. Sove, remember? Guess what we found in the basement? Some old paintings. And of course I was about to throw them out. I'm so stupid. But you know, Anders, he took them to be in praise this week and we got our answer today. And guess what they're worth? I can't handle this. Come on, give me a number. More because that's our cottage, not hers. A little more. We want it because we are the ones who never get anything for free. A little bit more. We are the ones who have to work at a goddamn convenience store to make enough for our rent. And our boyfriend is the one who's financially incompetent and he refuses to give up on his dream of changing the system from inside. It's not fair. Tell her it's not fair. Congratulations. And we hung up. And I pictured how my sister was sitting there in her perfect yard, in her perfect hair, in her perfect neighborhood, with her perfect son, who had never let a place talk her on the perfect lawn, with the blades of grass and a break up of a raw pine, and then her mother would dry perfect fat tears that would bloom like flowers under perfectly ironed laps. Let's go in here. I walked into a department store. I blocked on the makeup counter. Take off your raincoat. Under the raincoat, I was wearing a shirt with sausage, struggling off stains. There it is. Look, if you want to fire her and replace her with this guy. My background is in sales and marketing. I can see quite a bit of underutilized sales potential in here. Erica got fired and was replaced by Andre. And I taught him all the routines. I showed him how to clean the hot dog roller and defrost the ice cream cooler. And more and more often, I would take time off and walk around the city instead of working. Enjoy yourself. I got a massage, a pedicure, a manicure, a hair mask. I threw out the lunches many packs for me and made out. How are you feeling? I feel okay. Be honest. Now, I was happy. Be honest. For the first time in several years, I felt really, really content. The intermission speaker enters. That's it. That's the play. It's over. Thank you for coming. Did anybody believe me? Some of you maybe. Well, at least it was free. You didn't have to pay me when you come see this show. No UX to speak of and not forbid you. Pay ten dollars, one it back. No warranty on these things. But, let's get real for a second. Is anybody in here worried about finances right now? The way you came to me, a 40-play rating. Nobody. Nobody's worried. Great. Good for us. Why should you worry? Just numbers and coins and dollars and that. We all know that it's great to get a little cash from you. Because, as I always say, we've never really lived until you've been broke. Am I right? Am I right? Really. We've all been broke at some point in our lives. Sometimes. And I mean like, really, really broke. Not just like, honey, maybe we should cut down on our restaurant budget. Do we really need three cars? I mean like, really broke. You know, you're standing at the meat counter trying to choose between real choice cuts of meat, cheapo clearance stuff, looking between one and the other. Finally, you put a boat away, you go walk to the can of goods, get in line, standing there cold, ashamed of your cheap products, thinking, everybody's looking, everybody knows. You walk up to the register, swipe the car, guess the client, swipe it again, guess the client again, and say, oh, that's weird. There must be a problem with the bank or something. You walk to the ATM, you have a warm receipt in your hand, looking at the negative balance, the black dizziness hits you at the top, that your rent is due soon. We don't know that your friends don't answer your calls in certain dates. We don't know how to poke around in cold pockets, look under sofa cushions for any coins that might be lying around. You know, the bag is all lying around there somewhere. A little bit there, right? But we don't get worked up over the fact that there are people who don't have to think labels. I'm sorry about that. After all, we live in the best of worlds. All you have to do is pull yourself up by your bootstraps. It doesn't have to be much. Climb your way in. Don't give up. A dollar or two, maybe five, because people who give up turn out like him. What? Give me your first hand. Let's do this. Me? Yeah, you. What for? Let's make a deal. Look at this. I'll give you ten dollars if you dunk your head in that bottle of water. What for? For fun. It will increase the evening's UX, won't it? Wouldn't it be fun to see how long you can hold this breath? It's just water. Ten dollars? Ten dollars. Okay, great. Go ahead. Your dunce is head into the bucket. I feel like I just got a stopwatch or something. Pretty impressive, huh? When Peter finally comes back up, he catches his breath. Okay. Just two more times. What do you mean two more times? You didn't say anything about two more times. We said three times. We said three times, right? If you do it three times, I'll give you ten dollars. Now come on, just two more times. Take a breath if you have to. Ready? Let's go. Just fine. It's fascinating, actually. Did you know that the left lung is just a little bit smaller than the right lung because it shares part of the chest with your heart? Isn't that special? Peter's Body Founders. He tries to come up. At last, he lets go. Very good. Where are you going? What do you mean? I'm going to pay you. Ten dollars. Okay. Let's say 60 bucks. 60 bucks in your hand, then you can go. You know that? Or I can give it to somebody else. Does anybody want to get their face a little wet for 60 bucks? Just stick your head in the water for a minute, tops. Then you can walk off stage and you're safe. You will have come out on top this evening. Anybody? Look, we have towels. I'll do it. I'll do it, okay. Great. The Intermission Speaker pushes Peter into the bucket and holds him down, even though his limbs flail and he does all he can to come back up. It lasts longer than the time before. Peter flails and then lies still. The Intermission Speaker lifts him up in the water, provides him and sticks the money in his pocket. Hey! You all right? You still with us? You're done. You can go home now, or... home. Gonna have a glass of water if you need to. Bad joke. Okay. I guess we're done here, but you know how it is? This show must go on. Here we go. Act three. We are transported to the other city. Freya enters. I saw it happen. Everyone saw it happen, but no one had time to react. She looked the wrong way. It happened so fast. Suddenly, she was just lying there. We return to the capital city and enter Manny's memory on the step. You will end up just like me. Just you wait. That's what he would say to me in the morning in the kitchen. After his night shift, as his painkiller tablets were fizzing in the glass of water, you will end up like me. But dad was wrong. I didn't end up like him. My body didn't break down thanks to four different part-time jobs. My back never suffered a slip of disc. I didn't retire on disability. I stopped drinking, and my family will never split up just because I spent all my time chasing after money. Dad was the one whose life involved around maximizing dollars and cents. Not mine. Definitely not. We have other priorities. We don't have much, but what we have, we are careful with. That's what we always said at first. When we were both studying at the university, we lived in a water damaged apartment. We made up our own dish called cottage cheese noodles. Here's how to make it. Put cottage cheese on them. And then put a little herb salt on top. Oh right, herb salt was important. We rolled our own cigarettes, and we drank cheap wine from cups without handles. We stole. Silverware. We lived on practically no money. We didn't even think about money. But time has changed us. Or at least one of us. Like when we were going to buy a stroller. Darling, I have a suggestion. Let's each make a list that describes our dream stroller, and then we'll compare them. Dream stroller? Ready? Go! And just to avoid argument, I made a list describing my so-called dream stroller. Cheap. Good breaks. Tall push handle. Three things that were important to me. But she just... Swiveling front wheel with a shopping store. And I have to say... A large storage basket. Her list was a little bit longer. Five. A safety-rated frame and reflective bars. She came from a different background. Twelve. A reversible aeronomic scheme. She was just used to different standards. Nineteen. Puncture-resistant tires. And I remember thinking... Twenty-two. UV protection and ventilation holes in the reclining seats. When does she do this kind of thing? Twenty-four. A movable safety bar. And how much time does she spend on it? Twenty-five. Optional coffee cup holder. And why did she... The person who loved smoking cigarette butts that came from ashtrays and drinking one thing out of broken mugs when we were back when we met suddenly won a stroller that cost an entire month's salary. You know, we were perfectly well off. Poor. Yeah. I had my adjunct job at the department. We had a cushion. But our cushion was getting smaller and smaller. But we were in no way poor. And even if we argued sometimes, we always kept a unified front. We were transported to a couple's dinner. Well, of course. Money can get a little tight sometimes. But isn't that true for everyone? Yeah. I mean, exactly. I'm 99% sure that I will get that permanent position in the spring. And I'm starting looking for a per-time job. Of course. And other people have it so much worse. Like unemployed youth. A homeless. Undocumented. Undocumented. Undocumented. Employed homeless youth. Right? Our regular old adults who don't know what their finances are going to look like. We know exactly how much our income is and exactly how much is left over after we've paid rent, paid for our metro passes and phone bills and electricity and our debt to our neighbors and friends and aunts. We know exactly what time of month we have to stop buying juice. Or buy juice that's not really tasty. Or cut down on fruit. I mean, or cut down on fruit that costs more than a certain price per pound. Or just cut down on fruit. Yes. And that's the kind of thing that you have to do so that you can treat yourself on other things later. So you can travel. So you have a cushion. Last summer, actually. Oh, yeah, actually. We stayed home last summer. But the summer before that... We stayed home actually. Because I was pregnant. I was between jobs. But the summer before that... We also stayed home. But the city is really lovely. Oh, yeah. It's just... It's quiet. And empty. Yeah. And you can walk around and imagine that you own the city. We don't have much. But we have each other. We are transported to the other city. I saw it happen. Everyone saw it, but no one had time to react. Suddenly, she was just lying there. She'd been run over and the car stopped further on and the driver didn't dare to approach. But we did. It was like we made a circle. Everyone came too close so someone yelled back off and then people backed off. The ambulance showed up in just a few minutes. It must have been a coincidence. It must have been nearby. And I stood there with her purse. I don't know how it ended up in my arms, but I just wanted to help. And that's why everyone thought that I had been with her. And soon I was sitting beside her in the ambulance. And we rushed with the lights and sirens toward the ER. And I looked at her and her skin and it didn't look too bad. There was just a little blood coming from the cuts and her one leg was broken. Anyone could see that because the bone was sticking straight out under her dress. You could see white through the fabric and it almost looked a little funny. But I realized that if I started laughing they might misinterpret it. So I sat there quietly and I listened to the sirens and the ambulance attended, pressed onto the chest and placed a rubber mask over her perfectly shaped lips and asked me what her name was and instead of looking through her purse I saved time by saying that her name was my name. We were transported to Nandy and Martina's home. Later she found a job at the convenience store and then we had a little more of a cushion. I hate every second of it. Although she didn't like it very much at first. I hate the customers. I hate that it smells like old smoke. I hate the rotten fruit and the leaky coffee machine. And then all of a sudden one day she started enjoying her job. I talked to Peter today. Peter. You know what I told you about? It was actually really pleasant. And I was clueless. Peter. His name is Peter. Peter. Yeah, he usually can handles outside the convenience store. First she only mentioned him in passing. Guess who came into the store today? Peter, the homeless guy. I gave him some fruit. And then he started popping up more and more often. Well, if Peter stopped by today he helped me make some change. She always has a lot of coins. I was busy with my lectures. I was collecting material on Mamona and Beethoven's theorem and Lorenzo's law. Isn't it cool how some people are brave enough to do the opposite of what everyone else does and just plant themselves totally outside the rest of society? And I thought, as soon as I get a permanent position I will destroy capitalism from the inside. I wish we could do that, Nanny. Get our hands on some land and move out to the country and become totally self-sufficient. I didn't say anything. I wasn't listening. I tried not to think what I was thinking. What were you thinking? Oh, it doesn't matter. Tell me. I wasn't thinking anything. Yeah, but you said that you were thinking things you didn't want to think. That's what he said. Now, tell me. It was nothing. I want to know. I promise not to be mad. Tell me what you were thinking. Well, maybe I was thinking like, wow, what are you talking about? Stupid, upperclass little girl. You want to become a self-sufficient as a homeless person? You would last about 20 minutes on an organic farm. Max. Then you would call up your filthy, rich parents and ask them to send a taxi so you could come back home to your mansion in the pool and the fancy grill and soak up the feeling of security. Was there anything else you were thinking? Yeah, I might have been thinking there is nothing more fucking disgusting than the passion that the rich feel for poverty. Your fake, moist eyes when you catch a glimpse of a person who is weak. Your warm hands, which are supposed to help care for, fuss over, be there and pick up the pieces but only as long as poverty comes in a pretty little package amusing and harmless, there has to be limits. There has to be a work of art or a stage. User experience value. This lack of resources must never, never pop up unexpectedly in your living room or in your stairwell, run your doorstep of your home in your country. Poverty is not allowed to follow you home after visiting a theater. It has to end when the applause does because otherwise you would be reminded that poverty isn't beautiful or amusing or heroic. Poverty shapes and aches. It silences and shaves. Poverty is backs that bends and frame friends that betray and ligaments that snap and tongues that go silent and dads who disappear. You're such a brave person. What did you say instead? When you responded, Peter is just so, I don't know, so real. You reminded each other somehow except that he does in practice what you write about in theory. And that sentence saved itself inside me like a bank deposit and grew with exponential interest. He does in practice what you write about in theory. And of course, dad's constant you will end up like me. Just wait. We are transported to the other city. Then we arrived at the ER and they carted her off and that's who I was and I told them the truth. We're work colleagues and we have the same job. And I wasn't lying. It was almost true except that they had fired me and hired her. And then I said the same thing to the nurse on the ward and she was going to be operated on right away. They registered her under my name and I thought it was fit. I thought they can change that later once everything is cleared up. The important thing right now is for them to revive her as quickly as possible. It will be okay, won't it? I said to the nurse who still didn't want to let me in the operating room. She nodded and said we're doing everything we can. And then she locked the door and banished and I went to the waiting room where there were free cookies and juice and coffee and tea and I took a few tea bags and stuck them in my pocket and a few cookies and I drank a little coffee and I thought every cloud has a silver lining. The man named Martina's home. The day before I was going to give the last lecture of the semester we were sitting in front of the TV. Will you find out tomorrow? Our daughter would call and sleep. They'll call tomorrow, right? You think you're going to get it? I don't know. They said a lot of people applied for the positions. I'm good feeling about it. Why else would they have given you so many instructional hours? I changed the channel on the TV and sides who she would get that I didn't want to talk about it anymore about the permanent position. I was already nervous because we were changing because she was drifting away. Maddie with a ten-year trap job. Who would have thought it back then when we were stealing spoons from the university cafe? On TV there was this black and white movie where a woman fainted and a man laid her on a chaise lung. You know what? Peter told me something really funny. When he was little he thought those were called chaise lawn. And he wondered, who is chaise? What if it's her lawn like that? And all of a sudden right there on the couch I figured out what had happened. Everything turned into one big pad of her new perfume or hairstyle. The bouquet of flowers. Hi, my name is Peter. I'm homeless. Hi, Peter. Would you like to come into this store and talk for a while? Hi, my name is Peter. I'm homeless. Yes, so you said. But come over here behind the counter. And I'll show you something. Hi, my name is Peter. I'm homeless. And I'm present for you. Oh, wow. Lovely. I have had my eye on this perfume for years. But how could you afford it? What? You believe that I was homeless? For real? Of course I'm not. I was just doing research for an upcoming role. I'm actually a famous actor and give you everything your boyfriend can't afford. Oh, yes. I knew it. Come here. Into the storeroom. And Peter and Martina have sex. And my name is Peter. And I'm homeless. I love it when you say that. Say it again. My name is Peter. Say it again. Yes, say that you're outside the system. I'm outside the system. Say that you're everything my boyfriend is not. I am everything your boyfriend is not. Stay with me. No, Peter. If you only knew how much I would like to do that. But I can't. I have to go home to my loser boyfriend. I hope he realizes how lucky he is. He doesn't. It doesn't even work, by the way. You can have me as an instructor at the university in the history of economics. Is everything okay? Got it? The presenter on TV was talking about an international report that estimated the amount of money that goes untaxed and is kept hidden from all the tax authorities of the world at between $21 and $32 trillion. You seem so preoccupied. I changed the channel. I thought, $32 trillion. That's $32,000 billion. And $32,000 billion is $32 million million. Hello. Are you listening? But I nodded. Yes. I said yes. I was trying to listen to her and I changed the channel to a documentary about killer whales. Oh, you know who loves sharks? Peter. Huh. But those are killer whales, darling. If you can't tell the difference between a killer whale and a shark, I think you should ditch your plans of becoming an organic farmer. She didn't say anything. The documentary kept playing on TV and then she stood up and walked to the bathroom. She was right. She took her phone with her to text him from the bathroom. I kept sitting there. I got up to go to the kitchen and have a little nip from my bottle to pop a mint to hide the smell. I tried not to think about what would happen now. The first excuses, staying with a friend. I'm going to call if I'm going to be late. The sex, so much, so different, so much better. Break up. Custody battle. I'll have to move out. He'll get to move in. I'll only see police on weekends with that. When I came to bed, she had turned out the light and I shouldn't woke her up. I should have said, I'm sorry, I'm feeling stressed out about tomorrow. I'm sorry. I haven't been able, I'm sorry that I haven't been able to give you the life that you deserve. But that's because of people who have the money to hide it and you know how much 32 trillion dollars is. You know how much you want to know this much. But I didn't wake her up. I just crawled in a bed beside her and I tried to fall asleep. The other city. After the operation, they came out with her and several hours had passed and I was still there. I had sat there in the waiting room eating cookies and drinking coffee and juice. You could drink as many glasses as you wanted and no one would say anything. They rolled her into the room and I could tell that she would be okay. There was life in her skin, even though it was pale and even though her face was covered by that mask and the doctor said it was serious. I knew she wouldn't die and I tried not to look disappointed. I smiled. I showed what I wanted was best for her and after the doctors left I sneaked into the room and sat down next to her with her purse in my lap and I whispered, I'm here now. So that she would feel safe and calm because the nurse said that she might be able to hear even if she couldn't respond. I sat there for half an hour or so and said nice calming things. I said we were coworkers and it was almost 8.30 at night and that there was a room with free juice and cookies and coffee out in the hall and if I'm not here then I'm sitting in there and when you wake up all you have to do is call for me and I'll come okay. There was an old man in the same room and they rolled him out before she got there and his side was full of flowers and bouquets and next to the radio there was even a box of chocolates in plastic wrapping and I thought it was unfair that he had so much and she had so little so I moved to the bouquets to her side I took away the cards and I tasted a piece of chocolate I could tell it had been bought it didn't have that dusty taste the old chocolate can get it was soft and it melted in my mouth and I thought wake up now wake up now so we can eat chocolate and decide what to do tomorrow. The capital city Dad said you're gonna end up like me but that wasn't true because he had never gotten a phone call from his department that said I'm sorry the permanent position has gone to someone else and Dad never had to go into a university bathroom and run water so no one would hear what was going on I went to the lecture hall it had 200 seats and 13 students it was my last lecture and I swore to myself that it would be different nice to see so many of you here although there aren't that many of you no one lives the history of economics why? and for whom? Alchemist, utopian and revolutionary August Norton Skull has the answer he is born in Sybil Paris in Finland in 1754 his life's work the production of gold one guy's fallen asleep two girls are looking at the phone in 1779 King Gustav III sends Norton Skull to London to learn how to make gold while in London Norton Skull changes he has a stormy relationship with an Italian perfume maker he becomes involved in fighting the slave trade he writes a remarkable treatise that predicts the development of a stock market that is completely detached from the real world once he returns to Sweden the king shuts him up in a workshop with one simple task make gold so as to arm a superpower Norton Skull he wants to make so much gold that the entire economic system collapses Norton Skull continues to deliver gold more and more and more gold up until the money markets have been closed economic systems collapse and for a short time there is so much gold that no one wants people use gold to seal pipes people use lumps of gold as door stops they mix it with gravel and make roads it takes several decades for the gold market to stabilize again, but by then Norton Skull has already moved to Sierra Leone where he establishes an alternative society based on work rather than speculations pulled out of thin air so there you have it now get up and go out of the world and change it sleeping guy is still asleep the other thing you could tell a mile away that she was spoiled she was a sort of person who had it easy ever since birth you don't get hair that's all without conditioner and you don't get skin that smooth without the best creams that's not how things are for everyone some people never get to wash their hair in honey or own purses full of Parisian makeup you'd see that the fingernails that hadn't broken off were perfectly manicured and presumably her teeth were wet and beautiful and I was just about to investigate I was leaning over the bed when the nurse came in and I quickly backed up and she gave me an odd look and I felt like I'd done something wrong she said are you okay and I said yes the nurse walked around the room and I didn't ask what would happen if someone accidentally unhooked the machines I didn't ask who would get her body if she died but the nurse gave me an odd look and then she left and I felt like I didn't have much time so I leaned over stroked her arm like all her my name and then she opened her eyes and stares straight at me the capital city I didn't know what to do I didn't have a plan I should have done something drastic hijacked a bus started a demonstration write a dissertation to unify everyone who was poor enough to survive but rich enough to be fooled into thinking that we ought to be satisfied fire people up with a speech burn cars break shop windows pretend that a just world is possible but instead I took the subway to Martina's job I just wanted to see her hold her and convince her that everything would work out but she wasn't there instead there was this guy standing behind the counter I took a walk I bought a coffee at the bakery but when I came back the same guy was still there so I stood outside the florist I thought she must be in the storeroom or on break I stood there for quite a while and I finished my coffee a long time ago and as finished as my career I thought I stood there a little while longer hey where's your friend? what? your friend the guy who always used to stand there the blonde guy on the guitar I I really don't know look when you seem can you say hi for me and tell him I'm sorry for what? he'll know what it's about just say I overreacted a little bit it was a misunderstanding tell him that for me the guy with the little brother I walked away I saved the money that he gave me I took the subway home a homeless guy was on the platform he was missing his upper teeth he was talking to himself and he smelled like pee I walked by him quickly he didn't look healthy he had scabs on his face and dried blood in one ear I walked to the other end of the platform on my way home I used money to buy a scratch off ticket I feel that I would win I knew that I would win I was 100% sure that I would win I didn't win the other city she looked at me and tried to say something and I was right her teeth were white almost as white as her cast and sheets and I gave her water and she said what's going on and I realized she didn't recognize me and I explained I said you were hit by a car it was an accident you walked straight out in front of a car and she said I don't remember anything and I said it was an accident and she said I have this feeling that someone pushed me have you called my brother? please can you call my brother? his number is on my phone Peter his name is Peter I had no idea how her phone worked so I handed it to her and she dialed the number and when he answered she started to cry and the color returned to her face and I realized more and more that she would be okay she wasn't alone the nurse came back and this time she had a guard with her I realized it was time to leave I left her purse on the chair I motioned that I was going to get something to drink she didn't notice when I left she was talking to her brother and I sneaked out and I said hello to the guard who told me to leave and I walked toward the exit with the guard steps behind me I followed the exit signs I left the hospital I didn't take anything from her purse I left it all there all I took was the catch the next day I went back to work and I said now let's wait let's wait the slate queen now let's wait the slate queen I know you tried to replace me she's not here and how can you depend on her if she doesn't even show up for her third day of work the capital city it started with a few hours here and there quick wait to make a little extra money I called up one of dad's old friends who owned his own business one day I removed broken tile kitchen another day the bathroom needed fixing up and when I arrived there I didn't quite understand because everything worked the toilet flushed and the bathtub looked clean and new and I asked if it was finished or if it was supposed to be renovated dad's friend said renovated and he handed me a sledgehammer we were paid cash and I always brushed sawdust out of my hair and cleaned my nails before I came home I didn't have a guilty conscience I didn't say anything to Martina I wanted her to hold out hope I just said that the selection process was moving slowly my last job was outside of the city a roof needed to be replaced in the stairwell there were these small sculptures with name plates with famous names and I thought Martina would have lived here if she had never met me in a building like this one in a quiet neighborhood with a playground in the courtyard and a roof terrace with a view that goes on for miles we started in the attic I knocked out the wood and I brought it down while the others put up scaffolding and fetch safety lines and when we took a break I went up to the roof to drink my thermos of coffee and look at the view you could see all the way downtown the metal was slick with dew and it smelled like a ship we had to change the sails on a gigantic schooner we were on our way away when I finished with my coffee I stood up and I took a step to the right and I took two steps back and suddenly the roof stopped existing there was suddenly air where there was shit in the roof my hands wind milled and no one had time to react I was floating free under me was the hard asphalt and the pointy bike rack and I wasn't afraid I was still dizzy somehow I knew that I would be okay there was so much time I finished my dissertation I became a professor I fell I went to international conferences and I talked about that Houghton's Theorem and Lorenzo's Law I celebrated Felicia's graduation I visited dad's grave I fell I thought I would never be like him I fell there was nothing to be afraid of time is infinite the ground doesn't exist do you hear me the ground doesn't exist don't worry you don't need to be afraid the ground doesn't exist we're all going to be okay ground all we have to do is hope because the ground doesn't exist the ground doesn't exist the ground doesn't exist the ground doesn't exist backstage for a second we'll join us having trouble seeing you but hello I'm Walled I'm the family professor of the play company in New York and it's my pleasure to be here with Jonas and Rachel and Dan Rothenberg just to talk with you a little bit about the play and then also to leave a little bit of time for you to ask some questions Jonas I'd like to start here's Dan welcome Dan first of all thank you for that wonderful reading it's wonderful to hear you play Jonas can you talk a little bit I think the play premiered was it last year in Stockholm would you talk just a little bit about what sparked the play for you and also the reaction I think it brings up a lot for us but I'd love to hear what started it for you yeah it actually premiered in 2014 in Stockholm at the Royal Traumatic Theatre in Stockholm and the genesis of the play was actually a commission and I said in the audience thinking about that now they wanted me to write something about Frankenstein and now seeing it the monster is not really present in the text that you heard tonight but I think that it started off with a commission we read Shelly's Frankenstein and I came away with this fascination of I think it started with this idea what if we create something and then lose power over it then at the same time I had become a father I was in this moment of thinking a lot about money thinking a lot about just realizing that my personal relationship to money changed so in that I think that the what we saw here the link between the texts that we heard tonight and Frankenstein is this yeah a fascination with what numbers do to people I think and I was not only interested in writing something that would bash capitalism but rather see what happens when kind of numbers come in between people and force them not to numbers create friction but also in a sense happiness and liberty so this is I think would be too easy just to bash capitalism it's very easy to see the negative aspects of capitalism but it's also interesting to watch the allure of capitalism the allure of money so I think that's how it started for me and then I handed the plane and in the spring of 2014 and then it was this kind of long silence where I got feeling that theater was kind of trying to find like bread crumbs of Frankenstein it is but then they put it up and the final performance was just a few weeks ago and you were telling me before the reading that it had a very strong reaction can you tell me about that I think I think it was I think the reactions came a little bit from the fact that it was performed in a very very rich area of Stockholm and I don't know in New York enough to know the boundaries here I know that I tried to impress Anche last night because I said that I lived in Bushwick back in 2002 and I saw that you were like oh wow Bushwick back then I realized from your reaction that maybe that was not a great idea but I don't know like how I don't really understand how the areas are linked to prosperity but in Stockholm I see that very clearly like how economic possibilities kind of create very very clear boundaries between different areas so the play was performed in a very rich area with an audience who are not thinking a lot about money because that's what happens when you have a lot of money money becomes like air you don't think about the fact that it happened so a lot of the intermission speaker when he says you know we've all been poor right and in that room people are just like yeah yeah we were poor yeah and I don't mean you know giving up your third car poor people okay and it's interesting to see that and a lot of things that I thought were just you know this is how we all think in that room we created a lot of weird weirdness we always have more gods always in the intermission that's a specific scene that creates a lot of reactions also reactions both like protests the intermission when he takes the guy and puts him in the water but at one point they started shouting to the intermission speaker you know stop it stop it don't do it and then there was someone who started like a fundraiser to be able to pay for the guy who was putting you know they were like okay so everyone chip in you know and they wanted to give him money in order not to do you know everyone on stage know everyone in that room know that we are taking part in fiction but there's something with that I thought it was interesting that the response was kind of trying to bribe him or like trying to use money in order not to do this act tourists I was looking online today pictures from the production in Stockholm and then also it was produced in Germany recently and from the pictures I don't know how accurate this is but in Stockholm the show had sort of bright colors and a lot of Baroque in some scenes Baroque scenery Jones and gold statues everywhere it looked almost whimsical in a lot of ways and then in Germany it was very stark and sort of industrial feeling it was just very very very different and so I was thinking your plays are produced all over the world and obviously speak to people all over the world because people want to produce them and from what I know of your plays very little stage directions so I think directors have quite a bit of liberty in terms of how they stage your plays and you've seen them staged many different ways I'm sure so I'd love to hear what's important to you if you think about that when you write and what's important to you about how your plays are staged I'm a very non visual person I'm not really so in my family I have a brother who's an actor so in my family we ended like I became the book nerd and so I've always been into literature and writing and I'm also a novelist so I spend time writing books and then take time off to write there because I enjoy it so much but so I don't have an image of what it would be like in my first play that we worked on Invasion I remember the director coming to me and saying so what do you visualize for this play? I think I had a suggestion which was maybe we could just do like a dark stage and no actors just voices and I remember saying then it becomes a radio play and I was just like yeah maybe that's a good idea because in my head I don't see it I'm very happy to see it now but in my my imagination works is very voice driven so what I mainly do I give a lot of liberty to the directors and then what I do when I attend rehearsals all my notes are just like um notes on tone I guess you know well actually she's lying when she says that he's trying to make a joke that doesn't work here um I haven't seen the Berlin production yet but um from the images they look very very different um and I think that's the beauty of it I love when I when directors are kind of not too cuddly with my texts when they take the text and also uh not to kind of kidnap it in a sense um quite similar to what Rachel is doing when she's translating me actually kind of re-creating something rather than um imitating but I've also been into versions of my plays when I've just been like not really especially in Germany actually where I'm not really realized that it was my play um because they've taken so much liberty to this and I'm just like I didn't write a fruit fight um one instance was a long uh a long quotation of Schiller in my play that I hadn't written that they had put in there um then I just like sneak, snuck out um but um but I think that's also why to me that's the amazing thing with the theatre that there is this you create a space in a room where um those kind of things can happen alright so we're short on time so I will open it up no maybe we don't maybe ask a damn about the translator I'm prepared for that um well speaking of Rachel I wanted to ask you Rachel we met first when we commissioned you to translate Jonas's play Invasion and you've been translating them books, everything so you're kind of our bridge to Jonas and language is so very very important to his work um I just wanted to ask you maybe talk about this play what you were thinking about when you translated it and what's important um so I wrote it the first time not long after you wrote it I think and at the time I was a graduate student so I had one relationship to money and then I didn't translate it until just a few months ago and life has changed I finished graduate school got married thinking about buying a house completely different relationship to money so I think a lot of what I was thinking when I was working on it was just kind of a shame of recognizing myself and your characters and I know that you write such good characters and you see parts of yourself in so many of them but it's always a little bit like uncomfortable realization but I don't know that seems familiar and I think this one is actually one of the most straightforward texts linguistically that I've translated of Jonas's um the first thing I translated of Jonas's was his novel Montfort and that one was amazingly tricky and so much fun and I can just say that it's a real gift as a translator to work with an author who will let you mess with what they're doing I appreciate that so much about working with Jonas Do you find not only just thinking specifically about the language but any I mean I guess especially thinking about money and um really know what the financial culture is in Sweden but did you think about translating that in any way or did you find it very straightforward and I thought about it in the sense of one thing I'm interested in a lot when I translated is like cultural references that are very different in Sweden and in the US and I find in the play you have to consider them differently than in the book because the audience has this very immediate like you kind of need to know how time to think what might this word mean you just need to go with the flow and that came up a lot when we were working with Invasion as well so I just I tried to make sure that like all the references about that ten dollars that's a movie ticket and like half a metro pass or whatever I just tried to make them kind of match up here so they can sound completely out of the ordinary I think they matched up pretty well in the first place but there was some like looking a lot of stuff up in the presentation I know um Dan so I know you have sort of barely a few hours to work on this play but you work on so many different kinds of plays in theater with your company Pig Iron you've directed Japanese plays with us you just do a wide variety of work Shakespeare and I was thinking listening to the play tonight that this play just covers a pretty wide canvas um what were you working on with the actors when you approached rehearsals today so much of Yunsu's work is similar to this Japanese play right we've worked on together Toshiki Okada there's a lot of talking to the audience and description I guess I would have met you pulling from your novelist point of view um so something my company cares about a lot I work with this company Pig Iron in Philadelphia, this contact with the audience we actually do performance research on contact with the audience it's very hard in a reading situation but I cast actors that I know are pretty great at that and I was mostly working with them on just talking to people basically and the notes that I had time to give had to do with like that feeling of complicity which I think is very important and what you've written around money which is especially Andre's character saying you know how it is you know how it is about I'll never buy something like that my notes were a little bit about like but share with the audience that you too would if you had $300,000 so that was something that I worked on alright thank you so much for coming everybody