THE ASCENT OF HEE: A PLAY IN THREE ACTS
A Theatrical Manuscript
By The Collective Unconscious
Characters:
- HEE - Ageless, shapeshifts between specific and universal, climbs stairs that may not exist
- THE CHORUS OF WATCHERS - The crowd, speaking sometimes as one, sometimes in fragments
- DIANE PROSPERITY - News reporter, Channel 7, slowly losing her mind on air
- TEN PESOS - Changed his name after fever dream, carries fortune in quarters
- THE HORIZONTAL PROTESTER - Lies down, grows moss, photosynthesize
- THE SPIDER - Eight-legged consciousness, weaves and weeps
- THE WOMAN WITH THE JAR - Carries her mother's ghost
- THE GARDEN PLANTER - Plants where people step, replants, repeats
- THE COLLECTOR - Gathers useless things in her basement
- THE CHILD - Trades baseball cards for municipal bonds
- THE STAIRS - A character itself, hums, grows, dreams
Setting:
A space that is both specific and infinite. The Big Upward Wealth Stairs dominate center stage, made of crystallized algorithms and polished stock tips. They shimmer and occasionally flicker out of existence. LED screens serve as stained glass windows. The lighting suggests both dawn and dusk simultaneously.
---
ACT ONE: THE GATHERING
Scene 1: Before Dawn
(The stage is dark. Slowly, the STAIRS begin to glow, humming Beethoven's Ninth - only the sad parts. The CHORUS enters from all directions, some in business suits, some in rags, some in religious garments, all carrying something: resumes, prayer books, lottery tickets.)
CHORUS (overlapping whispers building to unified voice):
Half of your problems—
Half of your life—
Half of your problems in life are related to money—
The other half pool like dark honey in shadows.
(The WOMAN WITH THE JAR enters, cradling a mason jar that glows faintly)
WOMAN WITH THE JAR:
Mother wanted to see someone make it.
She died climbing. Still climbs.
Glass is the only substance pure enough to hold love.
Or ghosts. Same thing, maybe.
(The STAIRS shimmer, revealing carved words: "01% is not a bad place to start")
TEN PESOS (counting quarters obsessively):
Decimal points contain infinite possibility.
I had a fever dream where money apologized to me.
"I'm sorry," it said.
I couldn't tell if it was sorry for existing
Or sorry for what it had done to me.
So I became it. Ten Pesos.
Now I am currency. Now I am apology.
Scene 2: The Reporters Arrive
(DIANE PROSPERITY enters with camera crew, microphone like a weapon)
DIANE:
Good morning, I'm Diane Prosperity reporting live from what we're calling
The Big Upward Wealth Stairs,
Where success has become spectacle,
Where spectacle has become scripture,
Where scripture has become spreadsheet.
Today's climbing forecast: infinite with a chance of falling.
(HEE enters - or perhaps was always there. Their appearance shifts depending on the angle of viewing.)
CHORUS:
Here's Hee!
HEE:
What are you good at?
What gets you out of bed?
CHORUS (fragmented responses):
—Survival dressed as passion—
—Alarm clocks pretending to be purpose—
—My dead wife's perfume still on the pillows—
—The cat needs feeding—
—Nothing—
—Everything—
—The bathroom—
HEE:
However, the person with level two examples understands.
Not from the summit where words freeze mid-sentence,
Not from the bottom where everything sounds like begging,
But from this second tier where hope still has oxygen.
(HEE begins to climb. Their shadow climbs three steps behind.)
Scene 3: The First Transformation
(As HEE climbs, the STAIRS begin to change. Extra steps grow when no one's looking.)
THE SPIDER (weaving in the corner, speaking in eight-part harmony):
Web-weaving and wealth-weaving,
Same practice, different prey.
I spin to catch nothing.
Nothing feeds everything.
Eight tears, one for each direction of infinity.
THE COLLECTOR (entering with arms full of broken objects):
I gather useless things.
Broken watches that still tell time in other dimensions.
Love letters from strangers that are love letters from God.
Nobody pays me.
I'm the richest person here.
I'm also starving.
(The STAIRS hum louder. A microphone picks up whale songs from three blocks away.)
DIANE (increasingly agitated):
As you can see, Hee continues their ascent past...
(pause) Past the milk and honey threshold where...
(her voice cracks) Where sweetness turns to poison...
No, not poison... Light... Where children inherit everything
And know it means nothing and everything simultaneously.
---
ACT TWO: THE CLIMBING
Scene 1: The Architecture of Ascent
(The stage transforms. The STAIRS become a Möbius strip, twisting impossibly. People climb up while simultaneously descending.)
HEE (now at step thirty-seven, shares lunch with someone climbing down):
The sun's increasing heat can make you wealthy
If you're in the solar racket.
But this profession is different than one with dozen legs
To secure better balance.
CHORUS OF WATCHERS:
Factor of 88!
Why 88?
Piano keys!
Planetary orbits!
Days until death!
Days until birth!
Same thing!
THE CHILD (trading baseball cards):
I dream of baseball but wake thinking of interest rates.
My father says this is growing up.
I think it's shapeshifting.
I think we're all shapeshifting.
Watch—
(THE CHILD transforms into an old man, then back)
THE CHILD:
See? Natural disasters are just nature shapeshifting.
Human accidents are just humans forgetting they can shapeshift.
Failure is success shapeshifting into honesty.
Scene 2: The Parallel Structure
(A second escalator appears beside the stairs, moving horizontally. People on it share sandwiches.)
GARDEN PLANTER (planting at the base while people step on the garden):
Every replanting is resurrection.
Every footstep is fertilizer.
Gardens grow through concrete.
Life insists on itself.
This is either futility or faith.
Both. It's both.
Everything is both.
THE HORIZONTAL PROTESTER (lying down, beginning to grow moss):
I'm becoming horizon.
Where earth proves it's sky.
Where sky admits it's earth.
Watch me photosynthesize.
Watch me turn light into life.
DIANE (beginning to lose composure):
This just in: households lower on the color spectrum
Tend to be higher on the low-risk potential spiral—
(she stops) Wait, what am I saying?
What are any of us saying?
Scene 3: The Fever Point
(The STAIRS begin to flicker in and out of existence. Computers on the LED screens start sighing audibly.)
HEE (now impossibly high, voice echoing from everywhere):
As you hire blue and gold security—
Blue like bruising that looks like blessing,
Gold like what fear becomes when compressed—
You can start to take bigger risks.
WOMAN WITH THE JAR:
Mother says the risks were always big.
We just couldn't see them from below.
She says death doesn't stop anything,
Just changes the direction.
(Suddenly, the jar breaks. The ghost disperses into the air, becoming visible as shimmer.)
CHORUS (in unison):
THE STAIRS ARE MADE OF US!
WE'RE CLIMBING OURSELVES!
---
ACT THREE: THE REVELATION
Scene 1: The Protest
(THE HORIZONTAL PROTESTER has been lying still so long that gravity begins working sideways. DIANE approaches with her microphone.)
DIANE (screaming):
WHY ARE YOU WASTING YOUR POTENTIAL?
THE HORIZONTAL PROTESTER:
(Says nothing, begins photosynthesizing visibly, glowing green)
DIANE:
YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO BE CLIMBING!
YOU'RE RUINING THE STORY!
THE STAIRS NEED BELIEVERS OR THEY—
(She stops, realizes she's floating sideways. Her hair streams behind her like she's underwater.)
DIANE (having a revelation):
Oh my God. Oh my God, they dissolve.
THE STAIRS NEED US TO BELIEVE IN THEM OR THEY DISSOLVE!
(The STAIRS flicker out completely for a moment. Everyone sees through to something else - perhaps stars, perhaps void, perhaps home. Then they return, but one degree crooked.)
Scene 2: The Top of the Stairs
(HEE reaches what might be the top. There's a door marked "EXIT.")
HEE:
I've always known about this door.
It leads back to the ground.
It leads back to the beginning.
It leads to exactly where you are.
THE SPIDER:
Every ending is beginning is ending is beginning is—
TEN PESOS:
My quarters have turned to water.
My water has turned to light.
My light has turned to quarters.
The cycle continues.
Scene 3: The Final Transformation
(The stage begins to shift. The STAIRS are revealed to be made of the CHORUS, each person a step.)
CHORUS (speaking as individual steps):
—I am step one, I taste like hope—
—I am step fifty, I taste like exhaustion—
—I am step one hundred, I've forgotten what I taste like—
—I am the step that grows at night—
—I am the step that disappears by morning—
—We are all steps—
—We are all climbing—
—We are all falling—
HEE (now revealed to be played by everyone, speaking in unison):
Sometimes Hee is us.
Always was.
Always will be.
THE COLLECTOR:
I've been collecting the moments between steps.
The pauses where people doubt.
They're the most valuable things.
They're worth nothing.
They're worth everything.
GARDEN PLANTER:
My garden finally grew.
It grew through the stairs.
It grew through the climbing.
Look—
(Vines burst through the STAIRS, flowers blooming impossibly fast. The STAIRS begin to dissolve into petals.)
EPILOGUE: After/Before/During
(The stage is now both full and empty. The STAIRS exist and don't exist. Everyone is climbing, falling, standing still simultaneously.)
DIANE (now calm, almost serene):
This is Diane Prosperity,
Reporting live from what is definitely a birth.
Or a death.
Same thing sometimes.
The stairs continue and don't continue.
We climb and don't climb.
This is the news that stays new:
We are the stairs we climb.
THE WOMAN (holding her repaired jar, now empty and full):
Mother says to tell you:
The climbing was the point.
The falling was the point.
The standing still was the point.
There was no point.
That was the point.
ENTIRE CAST (as the lights fade, speaking in rounds):
Forgetting the sacred now—
The sacred now that never left—
That is this—
Right now—
This breath—
This word—
This—
(Blackout. In the darkness, we hear the STAIRS humming a lullaby. Everyone remembers being held. The lights return. The stage is empty except for a small garden growing where the stairs were. A single spider web catches the light. Someone, somewhere, begins climbing again.)
---
PRODUCTION NOTES:
On Staging:
The stairs should be constructed to appear solid yet translucent, possibly using projection mapping to show their constant transformation. They should be able to support actors while also giving the impression they might dissolve at any moment.
On Time:
The play occurs in past, present, and future simultaneously. Dawn and dusk happen together. Clocks on stage should run backward, forward, and sometimes sideways.
On Shapeshifting:
Actors should be prepared to transform roles mid-scene. HEE especially should be played by different actors throughout, sometimes by multiple actors simultaneously, ultimately revealing that everyone is HEE.
On Natural Disasters and Human Accidents:
These should be portrayed through sudden changes in lighting, sound, and actor movement—a earthquake might be all actors suddenly shifting two feet left; a human accident might be someone forgetting their lines and that becoming the line.
On the Roar of Timelessness:
The sound design should layer past, present, and future sounds: old stock tickers with smartphone notifications, church bells with closing bells, birth cries with death rattles, all creating a constant underlying roar that is sometimes overwhelming, sometimes barely audible.
On Twisted Pain and Sweetened Pleasure:
These should be physically embodied by the actors' climbing—each step up should register as both achievement and loss, each pause as both rest and anxiety. The sweetness should literally taste bitter; the pain should sometimes make actors laugh.
On Success and Failure:
These should be indistinguishable by play's end. Every success should contain its failure; every fall should be revealed as flight.
On Compassion:
Despite the surreal elements, the human suffering should be real. The audience should feel the weight of the quarters, the exhaustion of climbing, the tenderness of the shared sandwich, the mercy in saying "you look tired."
Final Note:
This play is itself climbing stairs, transforming as it goes. Each production should find its own shapeshifting, its own disasters and accidents. The script is the stairs; the production is the climbing; the audience is HEE, watching themselves watch themselves climb.
Sometimes the play is us.
Always was.
Always will be.
[END OF MANUSCRIPT]
