The Sunset Limited Page #12

---

to carry me through.

I'm depending on it.

The things I believe in

were very frail, as I've said.

They won't be around very

long and neither will I.

But I don't think that's really

the reason for my decision.

I think it goes

deeper than that.

You can acclimate

yourself to loss.

You have to.

I mean...

You like music, right?

Yeah yeah, I do.

Who is the greatest composer

that you know of?

John Coltrane, hands down.

Do you think his work

will last forever?

Well,

forever's a long time,

professor.

So I got to say no.

That doesn't mean

it's worthless, does it?

No, it don't.

You give up the world

line by line.

You become an accomplice

to your own annihilation.

There's nothing

you can do about it.

Everything you do closes a

door somewhere ahead of you.

Finally there's

only one door left.

That's a dark world, professor.

Maybe you just need to admit

that you're in over your head.

I do admit it, but that

don't let me off the hook.

I got no choice.

Okay.

Maybe you're right.

Well, here is my news,

reverend.

I long for the darkness.

I pray for death, real death.

And if I thought that in death I would

meet the people I knew in life,

I don't know what I would do.

That would be the ultimate horror,

the ultimate nightmare.

If I thought I was gonna

meet my mother again and

start all of that all over,

only this time without the prospect

of death to look forward to,

that would be

the final nightmare,

Kafka on wheels.

Damn, professor.

You don't want to see your own mama?

No, I don't.

I want the dead to be dead

forever.

And I want to be

one of them.

Except of course you can't be one of them.

You can't be one of the dead

because that which has no

existence can have no community.

No community.

My heart warms

just thinking about it...

blackness, aloneness,

silence, peace,

and all of it

only a heartbeat away.

I don't regard my state of mind

as some pessimistic

view of the world.

I regard it as the world itself.

Evolution cannot avoid

bringing intelligent life

ultimately to an awareness

of one thing,

and one thing above all else.

And that one thing is futility.

If I'm understanding you

right, you're saying

everybody that just ain't

eat up with the dumbass

ought to be suicidal.

- Yes.

- You ain't shitting me?

No, I am not shitting you.

If people could see the

world for what it truly is,

see their lives

for what they truly are,

without dreams or illusions,

I don't believe they could

offer the first reason

why they should not elect

to die as soon as possible.

I don't believe in God.

Can you understand that?

Look around you, man.

Can't you see?

The clamor and din

of those in torment

has to be the sound

most pleasing to his ear.

And I loathe

these discussions...

The argument

of the village atheist

whose single passion

is to revile endlessly

that which he denies the

existence of in the first place.

Your fellowship

is a fellowship of pain

and nothing more.

And if that pain

were collective

instead of merely reiterative,

the sheer weight of it

would drag the world

from the walls of the universe

and send it crashing

and burning down

through whatever night it might

yet be capable of engendering

until it was not even ash.

And brotherhood,

justice, eternal life?

Good God, man.

Show me a religion

that prepares one

for nothingness, for death.

That's a church I might enter.

Yours prepares one

only for more life,

for dreams and illusions

and lies.

Banish the fear of death

from men's hearts...

They wouldn't live a day.

Who would want this nightmare

but for fear of the next?

The shadow of the axe

hangs over every joy.

Every road ends in death,

every friendship, every love.

Torment, loss,

betrayal,

pain, suffering,

age,

indignity,

hideous lingering illness...

and all of it

with a single conclusion

for you

and every one and every thing

you have ever chosen

to care for.

That is the true brotherhood,

the true fellowship.

And everybody is

a member for life.

You tell me that my

brother is my salvation?

My salvation?

Well, then damn him.

Damn him in every shape

and guise and form.

Do I see myself in him?

Yes, I do.

And what I see sickens me.

Do you understand me?

Can you understand me?

I'm sorry.

How long you felt like this?

All my life.

- Is that true?

- It's worse than that.

I don't see what could be

worse than that.

Rage is really only

for the good days.

The truth is there's

little of that left.

The truth is

that the forms I see

have been slowly emptied out.

They no longer have

any content.

They're shapes only...

a train, a wall,

a world, a man...

a thing dangling

in senseless articulation

in a howling void,

no meaning to its life,

its words.

Why would I seek out

the company of such a thing?

Why?

Damn.

So you see what it is

you've saved?

Tried to save.

Still trying, trying hard.

- Who is your brother?

- Who is my brother, yes.

Is that the reason I'm here

in your apartment?

No, that's why I'm here.

You asked me

what I'm a professor of.

I am a professor of darkness,

the night in day's clothing.

And now I wish you all

the very best,

but I must go.

Just stay

a little while longer.

No, no more time.

Goodbye.

We can talk about

something else, I swear.

I don't want to talk

about something else.

Don't go out there, professor!

You know what's out there!

Oh yes.

Indeed I do.

I know what's out there

and I know who is out there.

I rush to nuzzle

his bony cheek.

No doubt he will be surprised

to find himself so cherished.

And as I cling to his neck

I will whisper in that

dry and ancient ear,

"Here I am.

Here I am."

- Now open the door!

- Don't do this.

You're a kind man.

I've heard you out

and you've heard me.

There's no more to say.

Your God must once have stood

at a dawn of infinite

possibilities,

and that is what

he's made of it.

You tell me that I want

God's love. I don't.

Perhaps I want forgiveness,

but there is no one to ask it of.

And there's no going back.

There's no setting things right.

There's only the hope

of nothingness.

Rate this script:4.0 / 2 votes