THE REBELLIOUS MAID By Ben Gavarrë

THE REBELLIOUS MAID

By Ben Gavarrê

Contact bengavarre@gmail.com

Characters:

THE WIFE, gossipy, demanding, insufferable.

THE HUSBAND, lazy, henpecked, oaf, lame.

THE REBELLIOUS MAID, that is, a servant, REBELLIOUS, but also clever, sly, impossible, lame, stinky.

The action takes place in the home and inn "BOTANAS Y ENTREMESES," where The Wife and The Husband live and work. The play is reminiscent of the brief Spanish theatrical works from the time of Cervantes, but of course it only alludes to that era with a few elements. The costumes do not need to be reconstructions of the period, but also only suggested, with traits of our modern days and our customs, especially those related to the treatment of cleaning employees in our homes, and, on the other hand, their survival strategies, which make their "patrons'" lives impossible. For, as in any comedy, each person has their own vices of character.

The language tries to play with the style of Cervantine Spanish, but of course it is nothing more than a recreation with some modern idioms, and some words that are useless to look up in the dictionary. A playful sense is sought with them.

At the beginning of the play, The Husband is sprawled on some chairs next to one of the tables for the patrons. He is listening to music on an iPod or similar device, with his headphones. He scratches his belly or whatever itches, without shame. He puts his hand in his nose, inspects what he's obtained, without it affecting his work of "doing nothing," a task he achieves with great efficiency.

The Wife arrives, very excited, shouting, bossy, scandalous… She brings a piece of news that makes her indolent husband jump up and listen, because it's impossible, in fact, not to.

WIFE: The new one is coming, she's coming, she's on her way!

HUSBAND: (Jumping up) No! Already?... The heaven has heard us!

WIFE: Blessed be the Lord!

HUSBAND: (Giving instructions, trying to be the man of the house) I must warn you of one thing, wife...

WIFE: You wish to warn me of something? Let's not start fighting, for you already know how that goes for you...

HUSBAND: (Conciliatory) It's not about that, no, may the heaven of a thousand and one mix-ups save me. Listen. About the New One... Once she's present like a hog, treat her with a soft hand, with courtesy, so that she feels not like the maid she will be, but like a sweet princess whom we gladly receive in our humble inn.

WIFE: (Indignant) What are you saying, Husband? A maid is a maid, and that's that.

HUSBAND: (Loses the little patience he had) Ah, yes, I see, I understand... It dawns on me! Now I know... It's all so clear... (Before his wife's withering look, he continues) This is why Jovita left us... and Tota... and Proserpina... and Elba Esther... and Teresita and Angiosperma and Martita... You humiliated them, you treated them like foul kitchen rags and of course, they felt belittled in their most intimate being. And the worst wasn't that, for what do I care, but that we, then, had to clean the pans, scrub the grime from the ceilings, attend to the clientele... Well, not even Don Pepe, the kitchen "pinche," lasted more than two days with us.

WIFE: (Making things clear) One moment, Husband, if the only one here who looks like a kitchen boy and waitress and cook is me, for I must do a thousand tasks that do not marry with my high condition: saffron the paella; resurrect the pozole, so it doesn't sour; stuff the food scraps. I have to clean the tables, serve plates, smile when I don't feel like it, receive pinches from the green-tailed clients...

HUSBAND: Collect the tip moneys...

WIFE: Only to lose them later because we're out of napkins and toothpicks and chilies and lemons and garlic and onions.

HUSBAND: And may the devil saturate your mouth, for you do not stop, Woman.

WIFE: And how can I stop? While I break my back, you scratch your mustache and scratch your belly and scratch what shame and my good upbringing force me to forget.

HUSBAND: Be quiet! For the prospect is approaching, behold, she comes.

The new servant, THE REBELLIOUS MAID, enters, loaded with two enormous suitcases, "velices," as she calls them, or they can be boxes filled with all that she owns in her existence. The spouses watch her come, and comment on her as if she couldn't hear them. Her movement is almost in slow motion, she limps and makes faces as if she were very tired or had a stomachache. Later we will find out that it might be both.

WIFE: (Trying to find a clue on her husband's face, jealous, of course) And why do you say that is her, do you know her?

HUSBAND: (He no longer wants conflicts) No, no, certainly not. I suppose so.

WIFE: And why does she walk like that?

HUSBAND: Ask her.

WIFE: And why is she dressed that way?

HUSBAND: Buy her some clothes.

WIFE: And why does she limp? Is she imitating you?

HUSBAND: More respect, woman. I don't limp.

WIFE: Oh, no?

HUSBAND: One leg is longer, that's all.

WIFE: Yes, yes. (To the Maid, with hypocrisy) May the heaven save us, you come very burdened. Leave the suitcase and welcome, sweet girl, princess of the broom, cherub of paradise...

THE REBELLIOUS MAID: (Crude, malevolent, likable, she talks about the conquests she was able to make, according to her, on the street) Devils, if they only knew the "calafiate" I've suffered. If I've left two "mochachos" waiting for my "regaliz" it's an understatement. Some of them were very well-dressed, but I, very quarrelsome, only let their advances come without climbing onto any of them because I am a Christian and of a good lineage, although I have to earn my bread with jealousy and good command.

HUSBAND: (Patient, pretending not to have understood she was being hit on) Quiet, quiet, beautiful maiden, and leave your "veliz" in a visible place. You must know that before anything happens, you must sign the book of prints and commit to working for a salary that is two "maravedís" without number.

THE REBELLIOUS MAID: (Indolent, insolent, distressed, stomach-sore, with a thousand sweet nothings) Yes, I'll sign, I'll sign... but later. A little while later, ehhh.... Ouch, ouchyyy, Woe is meeeeee, Before, be more accommodating and tell me where the latrine is, the toilet, the wc, or with your permission the crapper, or without permission, because it's a matter of urgency, I tell you, I'm having six "jolino" stomach cramps, and I wouldn't want you to be sullen because of the bad farts that usually accompany such disasters.

WIFE: (Apprehensive, nervous, she turns to look at the petrified and horrified husband) Come, I'll accompany you, for such outbursts can relax one's bad mood and leave us all like a converted Jew's nose.

THE REBELLIOUS MAID: (Suddenly relieved, though with some new signs of a diarrheal emergency) No, no, no. Yes! Yes... (Pause, the couple watches her, she watches herself) No, no, no. No. (Relieved, cynical) The phenomenon has passed, it has passed, but if the case arises, I'll let you know suddenly.

HUSBAND: (Childish, frightened) You promise?

THE REBELLIOUS MAID: (Easygoing) Yes, "de Vero."

WIFE: (Practical, getting to what interests her) Well, let's go quickly to show you the chores you will have to do.

THE REBELLIOUS MAID: (Sly) Step, madam, for I have not come from the "Cerro del Tullido" to hear demands before laying out my own.

HUSBAND: (With eyes wide open) You have demands?

THE REBELLIOUS MAID: (With a gesture of obviousness. She speaks with the full security of being right and being in her rights) Well, yes, it's better to say them by the thousands than to have to suffer the inclemencies of a bad contract. And here's the tale: To start, I must say that my bed should not be soft or springy, for I have left many patrons for less than that.

HUSBAND: But, what about her!...

THE REBELLIOUS MAID: And the pillows should not have embossments or hardness at the corners, for it is well known that such deteriorations harm the bones of the face. Once a week a very gallant young man will come to graze my spirit, a lad who is already becoming a habit for his very wise and great heart.

HUSBAND: Lame and sly!

THE REBELLIOUS MAID: For the twelve o'clock meal I must say that I usually crave two dishes that I want you to prepare in the following way: First, a salad that must be very well adjusted with each and every one of the vegetables free of miasmas and twists. Afterwards, a well-cooked "calafiate," with walnuts and green peas.

HUSBAND: Wouldn't you like a well-skinned pork more?

WIFE: No, no, better a "mastuerzo" broth with garlic sauce.

HUSBAND: Or would you like chicken feet "a la Morales"?

WIFE: Or a helping of kidney with "calafandras"?

THE REBELLIOUS MAID: Maybe, maybe... I don't know...

WIFE: (In the game of mocking the Maid's pretensions, complicit with her husband) ...Perhaps we should prepare an "entremés" for her, don't you think, Husband, and a good appetizer and a glass of white wine, and, I don't know, some snacks too.

THE REBELLIOUS MAID: Yes, yes, for "entremeses" I want two, very Cervantine, with black olives and vinaigrette. For a snack: a wheel of ham very "a la Lope"... And for the wine... just thinking about it gives me the shivers! For it has been a long time since my intestines have been too startled by such alcoholic excesses that I do not even want to tell you, so you do not think that I am a boozer, although I may seem so.

HUSBAND: (Looks at his wife to begin the treatment of head-knocks and ear-pulls, etc., intended for the Maid) I don't know about boozer, but you are very low-class and THE REBELLIOUS MAID. What do you think, wife, if for an "entremés" we give her a "shaken coscorrón"?

WIFE: Well said. And to follow the soup: what about ear-pulls?

HUSBAND: As a main course, a kick. Will you give it to her? Or should we think about dessert first.

WIFE: Ah, well we have many kinds of those: "moquetes," slaps, and delicious pinches of a "jumento" that I swear you'll never forget, my dear.

THE REBELLIOUS MAID: (Ache-ridden from the mistreatment received, she complains, but it's not what worries her most) I would very much like to enjoy them, sirs, all of them, but first tell me where the bathroom is or the latrine, for it seems that the miasmas have come undone again and I don't even want to think about it. Yes. No. Yes... It's coming! A pain like childbirth is killing my guts!... Ouch, I can't stand it!... A doctor, call a doctor for I'm "doing myself!"

HUSBAND: (Extremely disturbed) A doctor, a doctor, may he come, may they call a midwife for this wretched maid is "unsewing herself," she is unsewing herself!...

WIFE: Help, it smells very bad.

HUSBAND: It smells awful! What did you eat, creature?

WIFE: Yuck, dead birds, black crows, rotten dog brains! Guaahhhhhh (About to vomit).

THE REBELLIOUS MAID: Oh, sirs, I'm sorry, I told you, I can't hold it anymore... I couldn't hold it, sorry. (Her body language indicates that she soiled herself).

The Husband: (Disgusted) Oh, my God! She has "unsewn herself"!

THE WIFE: Oh, my God! (Continues with her attempts to vomit).

THE HUSBAND: (Not knowing where to go or what to do) Help, what a stench, call the doctor, the firefighters!... (Decided, he flees) I'd better get out of here.

WIFE: And me too! Aggggggggghhh... (She leaves with a clear indication that she is about to vomit).

THE REBELLIOUS MAID: (Distressed, with her tail between her legs, but always ready to overcome her conflicts) And me?... Well... Does anyone know where the cistern is? No?... A sink? A shower at least? (She complains and drags her leg) The devil, well I'll have to stay like this. It's a shame. They won't hire me, who told me to, why did I eat those things in the street, oh, woe is me! (She turns to look at the audience before leaving the scene) Devil take me, who would have thought: lame and stinky, "joder!"

Blackout

Cd. de México. ® Author: Benjamín Gavarre Silva. SOGEM registered rights.

Didn't you like it? Sleepwalking monologue. By GAVARRE BENJAMIN

  

Didn't you like it?

Sleepwalking monologue.

By GAVARRE BENJAMIN

This work has been published for free and open dissemination, although all intellectual property rights are reserved. Public use of this work requires permission from the author and for permission contact bengavarre@gmail.com or gavarreunam@gmail.com (Reg. Prop. Int. Expte. Inbox)

Didn't you like it?

(A dim light is turned on on the figure, who is standing in front of a mirror, his mouth almost pressed against it. He speaks in a low voice, almost whispering.)

 

(He touches his lips with his fingertips, as if the mirror were burning him.)

 

My mouth pressed against the mirror. The glass is cold. Is it my breath fogging this surface, or is it someone else's heat? (He takes a step back.) Is that you? (He moves closer again, inspecting his reflection.) My eyes... are they mine? They're big. Enormous. Is it because they're so close? Or do they notice everything you do at night... As if they see something I can't... what do you see?

 

(He walks away, goes to a corner of the stage).

 

The radio… (gesturing with his hand as if trying to silence a noise in the air). That shu shu garaluz. It's blues. Speak… Speak to me… Me? To whom? No. No, you don't understand. My cloudy eyes disturb me. My dilated pupils. I'm cold. It's so cold… Where does it come from? It doesn't come from the air… (He touches his chest). It's born from within here.

 

(He returns to the mirror. He looks at it intensely, and in an impulsive act, turns off the light with an imaginary switch.)

 

The light… went out. And the pupil, God!, is flooded… is flooded with blackness. Everything passes slowly. I turn on the lamp… (turns the imaginary light back on). And there you are. (Touches the mirror again). A face without tears. Not a single one. I… don't cry. Neither do you. We can't.

 

[Sleepwalking scenes]

 

(The character begins to walk slowly, as if in a trance, across the stage. He stops in front of an imaginary flowerpot.)

 

Here… is here. (He unbuttons his imaginary pants.) The toilet… the one from dreams. The one with leaves. (His voice is deep, thick.) The soft earth… like a mattress. (He “urinates” in the imaginary flowerpot and then buttons up.) I'm going to bed. But no… I'm not in bed. Am I here? (He looks at his feet.) And my brothers carry me. They carry me, yes. They lay me down… They say I was in the living room. That I was watching television. I saw the screen shining in the window. And they told me I was asleep, and I answered, asleep. I don't remember, I don't remember anything. My feet are cold.

 

(He gets up and walks to a corner of the stage where there is an imaginary laundry basket.)

 

I'm looking... I'm looking for something. The smell... her smell. It smells like clean clothes. Like well-cared-for skin. I'm looking for her T-shirt. For my lover. My lover can't be hidden in here? Or can he? (He stands still, as if asking himself.) Where could he be? (He goes to an imaginary closet and searches the drawers.) I can't find you. It's true you've been gone for a while. (Pause) But you're waiting for me. You're waiting patiently for me to wake up. But me? Where am I looking for you? How could I find you if we're separated?

 

(He stops and picks up an imaginary loaf of bread from a table.)

 

I'm hungry. It's bread. (He bites into it and chews slowly.) Sweet bread. Sweet like… cajeta. But it's sour. It tastes bad. (He walks again, no longer heading for the laundry basket, but somewhere else.) I'm taking it. To bed. For you, I know you like it. (He lies down on the floor, holding the imaginary bread, and looks at it with a puzzled expression.) I'm going to leave it here… for when I wake up. But… when do I wake up?

 

(The character stands up, with a more agitated and confused energy.)

 

Where was I? Oh my God, the traffic lights! Why is the rain green? ( He has flashes of past experiences. )

 

The waitress… doesn't understand me. I tell her, two spoonfuls! And she doesn't serve me anything. She looks at me like I'm in another dimension. I leave.

 

I'm going to light another cigarette. I'd like to put on a hat. I'm going into the theater. Last seat. A guy approaches. He grabs my hand... he pulls it... I leave. Movie without titles. Is it in German? I leave. I can't see the guy's face. I came. What a lousy movie. I leave. Everything is damp, darkness that the car headlights drive away.

 

[The outcome]

 

(He returns to his "home." The light on the stage changes to a colder one. He leaves the imaginary door open.)

 

No. I'm not going to close the door. Let him get angry. Who? The house is empty. Empty of you. (Screams into the air.) Damn cat! Go away! (He touches his leg with one hand, as if a scratch hurts.) That's better.

 

Food. Yeah, yeah. (Opens an imaginary refrigerator.) Jam... caramel... bread in cellophane... (Speaks in an annoyed voice, as if repulsed by it.) Sour. Everything is sour. Let me buy more.

 

(He sits down, remains still, almost motionless, staring into space.)

 

I'd better go to sleep now. (Yawns, but still stares.) Or... should I wait for him? (He gets up and looks toward the back of the stage, where there's a shadow that could be his reflection.)

 

Who am I waiting for? You? Do you have a secret life that even I don't know about? You know it, I'm sure you know it.

 

 

¿No te gustó? Monólogo sonámbulo. De Ben GAVARRE

  

 

¿No te gustó?

Monólogo sonámbulo.

De Ben GAVARRE

¿No te gustó?

(Se enciende una luz tenue sobre el personaje, que está de pie frente a un espejo, con la boca casi pegada a él. Habla en voz baja, casi susurrando).

 

(Se toca los labios con la punta de los dedos, como si el espejo le quemara).

 

Mi boca pegada en el espejo. El cristal es frío. ¿Es mi aliento lo que empaña esta superficie o es el calor de otro? (Se aleja un paso). ¿Eres tú? (Se acerca de nuevo, inspeccionando su reflejo). Mis ojos… ¿son míos? Son grandes. Enormes. ¿Es por la cercanía? O se dan cuenta todo lo que haces de noche…  Como si vieran algo que yo no alcanzo a ver… ¿qué ves, tú?

 

(Se aleja, se va hacia un rincón del escenario).

 

El radio… (gesticula con la mano como si quisiera silenciar un ruido en el aire). Ese shu shu garaluz. Es blues. Habla… Háblame… ¿Yo? ¿A quién? No. No, no me entiendes. Mis ojos turbios me perturban. Mis pupilas dilatadas. Tengo frío. Hace tanto frío… ¿De dónde viene? No viene del aire… (Se toca el pecho). Nace desde aquí dentro.

 

(Regresa al espejo. Lo mira con intensidad, y en un acto impulsivo, apaga la luz de un interruptor imaginario).

 

La luz… se fue. Y la pupila, ¡Dios!, se inunda… se inunda de negrura. Todo pasa lentamente. Prendo la lámpara… (vuelve a encender la luz imaginaria). Y ahí estás. (Toca el espejo de nuevo). Un rostro sin lágrimas. Ni una sola. Yo… no lloro. Tú tampoco. No podemos.

 

[Escenas de sonambulismo]

 

(El personaje comienza a caminar lentamente, como si estuviera en un trance, por el escenario. Se detiene frente a una maceta imaginaria).

 

Aquí… es aquí. (Se desabrocha los pantalones imaginarios). El excusado… el de los sueños. El de las hojas. (Su voz es grave, pastosa). La tierra suave… como un colchón. (Se “orina” en la maceta imaginaria y luego se abrocha). Me voy a la cama. Pero no… no estoy en la cama. ¿Estoy aquí? (Se mira los pies). Y mis hermanos me cargan. Me llevan, sí. Me recuestan… Dicen que estaba en la sala. Que estaba viendo la televisión. Veía la pantalla que brillaba en la ventana. Y me dijeron que estaba dormido y yo les contestaba, dormido. No recuerdo, no recuerdo nada. Mis pies están fríos.

 

(Se levanta y camina hacia un rincón del escenario donde hay una canasta de ropa imaginaria).

 

Busco… busco algo. El olor… su olor. Huele a ropa limpia. A piel cuidada. Busco su camiseta. A mi amante. ¿Mi amante no puede estar metido aquí? ¿O sí? (Se queda quieto, como si se preguntara a sí mismo). ¿Donde podría estar? (se dirige hacia un gabinete imaginario y busca en los cajones). No te encuentro. Es cierto que no estás desde hace tiempo.  (Pausa) Pero tú sí que me esperas. Esperas pacientemente a que despierte. ¿pero yo? ¿Dónde te busco,? Cómo podría encontrarte si estamos separados.

 

(Se detiene y coge un pan imaginario de una mesa).

 

Tengo hambre. Es pan. (Lo muerde y mastica lentamente). Pan dulce. Dulce como… la cajeta. Pero está agrio. Sabe mal. (Camina de nuevo, ya no se dirige a la canasta de ropa, sino a otro lugar). Me lo llevo. A la cama. Para ti, sé que te gusta. (Se acuesta en el suelo, con el pan imaginario en la mano, y lo mira con una expresión de desconcierto). Lo voy a dejar aquí… para cuando despierte. Pero… ¿cuándo despierto?

 

(El personaje se levanta, con una energía más agitada y confusa).

 

¿Dónde estaba? ¡Dios, los semáforos! ¿Por qué la lluvia es verde? (Tiene destellos de vivencias anteriores.).

 

La mesera… no me entiende. Con dos cucharadas… ¡le digo! Y No me sirve nada. Me mira como si estuviera en otra dimensión. Me voy.

 

Voy a prender otro cigarro. Me gustaría ponerme un sombrero. Voy a entrar al cine. Ultima butaca. Un tipo se acerca. Me la agarra… me la jala… me voy. Película sin títulos. ¿Está en alemán? Me voy. No veo la cara del tipo. Me vine. Qué asco de película. Salgo. Todo es humedad, oscuridad que las luces de los autos ahuyentan.

 

[El desenlace]

 

(Vuelve a su "casa". La luz en el escenario cambia a una más fría. Deja abierta la puerta imaginaria).

 

No. No voy a cerrar la puerta. Que se enoje. ¿Quién? La casa está vacía. Vacía de ti. (Grita al aire). ¡Maldito gato! ¡Lárgate! (Se toca la pierna con una mano, como si le doliera un arañazo). Así está mejor.

 

Comida. Eso… sí. (Abre un refrigerador imaginario). Mermelada… cajeta… pan en celofán… (Habla con voz fastidiada, como si le diera repulsión). Agrio. Todo está agrio. Que vuelva a comprar.

 

(Se sienta, se queda quieto, casi inmóvil, mirando al vacío).

 

Mejor ya me duermo. (Bosteza, pero con la mirada fija). O… ¿lo espero? (Se levanta y mira hacia el fondo del escenario, donde hay una sombra que podría ser su reflejo).

 

¿A quién espero? ¿A ti? ¿Tienes una vida secreta que ni siquiera yo conozco? Lo sabes, estoy seguro de que lo sabes.

 

 

Central Park Condo: De GAVARRE BENJAMIN

Central Park Condo. 

GAVARRE BENJAMIN

 Este trabajo ha sido publicado para su difusión libre y abierta, aunque todos los derechos de propiedad intelectual están reservados. El uso público de esta obra requiere el permiso del autor y para obtener la autorización correspondiente comuníquese con bengavarre@gmail.com o gavarreunam@gmail.com (Reg. Prop. Int. Expte. Bandeja de entrada)

Prefacio

Existen en el universo ciertas constantes que, por más que la razón intente explicarlas, persisten. La gravedad, la velocidad de la luz... y que, si una historia necesita un gato, la dueña se llamará Karen. No hay una explicación científica ni un algoritmo que lo demuestre, pero es una verdad tan inmutable como la entropía.

Para ser precisos, en esta historia, la dueña se llama Karen Santoyo. Sin embargo, no esperen ver a una mujer con un gato en brazos, ni a un felino persiguiendo un ovillo de lana. Este no es un cuento de hadas, sino una comedia de enredos con un toque de física cuántica y un apagón digital.

Prepárense para conocer a la familia Santoyo, una tribu moderna tan apegada a sus pantallas que casi han olvidado cómo vivir. Y a su nueva vecina, Karen, una "diseñadora de experiencias" que llega para reiniciar sus vidas. Pero, ¿dónde está el gato? Ah, el gato es lo de menos. Lo importante es que un gato, aun sin estar presente, puede desatar un caos tan real como los likes que no obtienes.

Y, como en todo buen experimento cuántico, la pregunta no es si el gato está vivo o muerto, sino si la familia Santoyo volverá a encontrar el camino a la vida real. Abran el telón y dejen que la función comience, porque en este departamento, el único que no está atrapado es el gato.

Personajes:

 * Leo (20s): El hermano mayor, un influencer de videojuegos.

 * Elías (15): El hermano menor, un genio de la informática.

 * Leticia (50s): La madre, adicta a las redes sociales.

 * Ricardo (50s): El padre, un burócrata obsesionado con el orden.

 * Karen (30s): La nueva vecina, una diseñadora de experiencias... ¿con un gato?

Acto I

Escena 1: El Santuario Tecnológico

(La escena se abre en el departamento minimalista. La sala parece un santuario tecnológico. Pantallas gigantes en las paredes, luces LED que cambian de color, consolas y dispositivos por todos lados. Leticia está sentada en el sofá, pegada a su celular, grabando un video para su Instagram.)

Leticia: (Al teléfono) ¡Hola, mis followers! ¡Buenos días desde mi oasis de tranquilidad, en mi departamento chic de Central Park! Aquí con mi cafecito orgánico... ¡Ya saben que los amo!

(Entra Ricardo, trajeado. Camina por la sala esquivando los cables y se para frente a Leticia. Ella no lo ve. Ricardo intenta llamar su atención.)

Ricardo: Leticia, por favor.

Leticia: (Hablando a la pantalla) Ay, Ricardo, mi amor... ¡Saluda! A la gente le encanta verte.

Ricardo: No. Ya te dije que no me gusta esta... exhibición. Leticia, te recuerdo que hoy es la junta para elegir al nuevo administrador del condominio. Es importante.

Leticia: Ay, qué aburrido, mi vida. ¡No me da likes lo que dices! Ricardo, ¿puedes acomodar estos cables? Afean el lugar.

(Ricardo suspira. Se agacha a acomodar los cables. Elías, el hijo menor, entra sin quitarse unos audífonos futuristas, y se sienta a la computadora. Ricardo lo mira, desesperado.)

Ricardo: Elías. ¡Quítate los audífonos! No es normal que no me escuches.

Elías: (Sin voltear a verlo, la voz sale de un sintetizador en su computadora) Mi campo auditivo se encuentra optimizado para frecuencias bajas. Su voz no es una prioridad, padre.

Ricardo: (A Leticia) ¡Mira a tu hijo! Un día de estos va a salir a la calle y lo van a atropellar.

Leticia: Ricardo, no exageres. ¡Mira qué lindo! Le han puesto un thumbs up en su story.

(Ricardo se queda parado en medio de la sala, resignado. Suena el timbre. Nadie se da cuenta. Elías ni se inmuta. Leticia sigue grabando. Leo está en una nube de narcisismo.)

Ricardo: Ya voy yo. (A la puerta) ¿Quién es?

Karen: (Desde afuera) ¡Soy la nueva vecina! ¡De la 301, su puerta de al lado! Y... creo que mi gato se ha escapado. ¿Lo han visto? Es un siamés con un ojo azul y uno verde... se llama Schrödinger.

(Ricardo abre la puerta. Entra Karen. Viste ropa cómoda, pero con un aire de diseñadora moderna. Lleva una mochila con un logo que dice: “Reboot Reality”. Se ve ligeramente agitada.)

Karen: ¡Hola! ¡Soy Karen, su nueva vecina! Disculpen la intromisión, pero estoy buscando a mi gato. Es muy escurridizo.

(El silencio es total. Nadie le hace caso. Leticia sigue grabando.)

Leticia: (Al teléfono) ¡Ay, mis followers, creo que tenemos una invasora! Dice que busca un... ¿cómo dijo? ¿Un monstruo de ojos raros? ¡Qué miedo!

Leo: (Con los audífonos puestos) ¿Alguien dijo streaming de terror? ¡Mis seguidores aman eso!

Elías: Analizando patrones de escape felino en edificios de alta densidad... Probabilidad de reaparición en conductos de ventilación: 78.3%.

Ricardo: (Frustrado) ¡Un momento, por favor! Vecina Karen, bienvenida. Disculpe a mi familia, están un poco... ensimismados. No hemos visto ningún gato.

Karen: Oh, qué lástima. Es que justo antes de tocar su timbre, juraría que vi un destello de ojos diferentes por aquí... Tal vez se metió en algún rincón.

(Karen comienza a mirar alrededor, moviendo cojines y asomándose detrás de los muebles.)

Leticia: (Gritando) ¡Ay! ¡Sentí algo peludo en mi pie! ¡Ricardo, sácame este bicho de encima!

(Leticia se levanta de un salto, mirando el suelo con horror. No hay nada.)

Leo: ¡Mamá, tranquila! Seguro es tu imaginación. Aunque... un gato mutante radioactivo sería un buen plot twist para mi próximo gameplay.

Elías: Registro de fluctuaciones térmicas anómalas cerca del sofá... Podría indicar la presencia de un cuerpo homeotermo de tamaño reducido.

Ricardo: (A Karen, con una sonrisa forzada) No se preocupe, vecina. Si vemos a su... Schrödinger, se lo haremos saber. Ahora, si nos disculpa...

Karen: Claro, claro. Gracias. Igual, si escuchan un maullido extraño... ¡es él! (Karen les da una tarjeta con su número.) ¡Cualquier cosa!

(Karen se retira. Al cerrar la puerta, Ricardo suspira aliviado.)

Leticia: ¡Sigo sintiendo cosquillas! ¡Seguro dejó pulgas! ¡Voy a tener que desinfectar todo!

Leo: ¡Pulgas gamers! ¡Podrían ser la nueva epidemia online!

Elías: Iniciando protocolo de escaneo de parásitos en el espectro electromagnético... Resultados negativos. La sensación podría ser de origen psicosomático.

Ricardo: (Gritando) ¡Ya basta! ¡No hay ningún gato! ¡Es una simple vecina nueva!

(Justo en ese momento, se escucha un leve maullido, proveniente de un lugar indeterminado.)

Leticia, Leo y Elías: ¡El gato!

Ricardo: (Con la cara desencajada) Esto... esto no puede estar pasando.

Acto II

Escena 2: El Misterio Felino y el Apagón Inesperado

(La escena continúa al día siguiente. La búsqueda del gato Schrödinger se ha convertido en una obsesión para los Santoyo. Leticia rocía cada rincón con desinfectante, asegurando haber visto "sombras felinas" en el reflejo de las pantallas apagadas. Leo está grabando videos teorizando sobre la naturaleza cuántica del gato perdido, sugiriendo que podría estar en múltiples dimensiones a la vez. Elías ha dedicado todos sus recursos informáticos a rastrear cualquier señal de la presencia del felino en la red del condominio.)

Leticia: ¡Lo vi! ¡Juro que vi su cola entre los cojines del sofá! Era... como una sombra alargada con un toque de color siamés.

Leo: ¡Eso confirma mi teoría! ¡El gato de Karen es un ente interdimensional que se manifiesta brevemente en nuestro plano de existencia! ¡Voy a titular mi próximo streaming: "Schrödinger: El Gato Fantasma de Central Park"!

Elías: Análisis de patrones de maullidos grabados por vecinos en los últimos meses... Correlación del 92% con vocalizaciones felinas de raza siamesa. La presencia del sujeto "Schrödinger" en el edificio podría ser un evento recurrente.

Ricardo: (Entra con el periódico, visiblemente alterado) ¡Esto es ridículo! ¡Ya hay un grupo de Facebook dedicado al "Gato Misterioso de Central Park"! ¡La gente está organizando batidas de búsqueda! ¡Van a invadir nuestro departamento!

(En ese momento, las luces parpadean y todo el departamento se queda a oscuras. Los dispositivos electrónicos se apagan.)

Leticia: ¡El apagón! ¡Seguro fue el gato! ¡Saboteó el sistema eléctrico con sus poderes psíquicos!

Leo: ¡Un apagón gamer! ¡Esto es una señal! ¡El universo conspira para que vuelva a mi streaming! Aunque... sin internet...

Elías: (En la oscuridad, su voz ligeramente asustada) Iniciando protocolo de emergencia... Activando linterna táctica... Detección de picos de energía justo antes del fallo... Posible sobrecarga causada por... ¿un gato?

Ricardo: (A tientas) ¡Ya basta! ¡No fue ningún gato! Seguro fue un problema con el transformador del edificio. ¡Esto es un caos! ¡Y hoy tenía otra junta crucial! ¡Mis diapositivas estaban en la nube!

(Se escucha la voz de Karen desde el pasillo.)

Karen: ¡Vecinos! ¿Están bien? ¡Hubo un apagón general en el edificio! ¿Alguien ha visto a Schrödinger en la oscuridad? ¡Es aún más difícil encontrarlo así!

Leticia, Leo y Elías: ¡Karen! ¡Su gato causó esto!

Ricardo: (A Karen, intentando mantener la compostura) Vecina, buenas noches. Sí, estamos bien... ¿Cree que su gato...?

Karen: (Con un tono de misterio) Schrödinger es un gato muy especial... Digamos que tiene una forma muy particular de interactuar con la energía.

(La familia Santoyo se mira en la oscuridad, con la creciente sensación de que la llegada de Karen y la desaparición (¿o no?) de su gato han alterado sus vidas de una manera insospechada.)

Acto III

Escena 3: La Realidad Desconectada y la Partida Misteriosa

(Ha pasado una semana desde el apagón. La energía se restableció, pero la familia Santoyo se encuentra extrañamente desconectada de sus dispositivos. El módem parece averiado sin explicación. Leticia ha descubierto el placer de observar las plantas de su balcón, aunque sigue convencida de que las hojas se mueven solas por la presencia espectral del gato. Leo intenta dibujar, frustrado por la falta de likes inmediatos. Elías está construyendo un dispositivo rudimentario con antenas y latas, "para detectar las ondas etéreas de Schrödinger".)

Leticia: ¡Miren! ¡La maceta se movió otra vez! ¡Es él! ¡Está jugando con nosotros desde el más allá digital!

Leo: ¡Sin internet, mi existencia online es nula! ¡Es como si hubiera desaparecido! Aunque... he tenido una idea para un live action sobre un gamer atrapado en el mundo real por un gato fantasma.

Elías: Análisis... Captando débiles señales... Podrían ser fluctuaciones de energía psi-felina... O la lavadora del vecino.

Ricardo: (Más relajado de lo habitual) Curiosamente, sin internet he podido leer ese informe que tenía pendiente hace meses. Y he hablado con mis hijos... ¡cara a cara! Es... diferente.

(Karen entra al departamento sin tocar, con una pequeña caja en sus manos.)

Karen: ¡Hola, vecinos! Traigo buenas noticias... y tal vez una explicación.

Leticia, Leo y Elías: ¡El gato! ¿Lo encontró?

Karen: (Sonriendo enigmáticamente) Digamos que Schrödinger tiene una forma muy particular de manifestarse. Y a veces, cuando su trabajo aquí termina... simplemente se va.

Ricardo: ¿Su trabajo? ¿Qué quiere decir?

Karen: Vine a Central Park con un propósito: recordarles lo que es importante más allá de las pantallas. A veces, un pequeño... "reboot" es necesario. Y Schrödinger es muy bueno en eso.

(Karen abre la caja. Dentro, no hay un gato, sino un pequeño dispositivo electrónico con una luz parpadeante.)

Karen: Este es un generador de interferencia cuántica de baja potencia. Lo activé temporalmente. El apagón, la avería del módem... fueron parte de la experiencia.

Leticia: ¿Experiencia? ¿Todo esto fue planeado? ¿Y el gato...?

Karen: Schrödinger es una metáfora. Una forma de hacerles prestar atención a lo invisible, a lo que realmente importa.

Leo: ¡¿Entonces no hay un gato fantasma interdimensional?! ¡Mi live action!

Elías: Análisis... Engaño sofisticado con elementos de disrupción tecnológica y sugestión psicológica... Fascinante.

Ricardo: (Con una leve sonrisa) Karen... usted es... peculiar.

Karen: (Guiñando un ojo) Digamos que soy una diseñadora de experiencias que se toma su trabajo muy en serio. Ahora, debo irme. Tengo otros "reboots" que realizar en otros universos... digo, condominios.

(Karen se despide y se va, dejando a la familia Santoyo en silencio, mirando el dispositivo parpadeante. De repente, el módem se enciende, la luz azul parpadea, indicando conexión a internet.)

Leticia: ¡El internet volvió!

Leo: ¡Mis seguidores!

Elías: Accediendo a mis archivos...

Ricardo: (Suspira) Las cosas vuelven a la normalidad... ¿O no?

(Los tres se acercan a sus pantallas, pero por un instante, dudan. En el silencio, se escucha un suave maullido, muy débil, proveniente de algún lugar de la casa. Los cuatro se miran.)

Fin

Central Park Condo: Digital Anarchy and the Phantom Feline By GAVARRE BENJAMIN

Central Park Condo: 

by  Gavarre Benjamin

This work has been published for free and open dissemination, although all intellectual property rights are reserved. Public use of this work requires permission from the author and for permission contact bengavarre@gmail.com or gavarreunam@gmail.com (Reg. Prop. Int. Expte. Inbox)

Characters:

 * Leo (20s): The older brother, a video game influencer.

 * Elías (15): The younger brother, a computer genius.

 * Leticia (50s): The mother, addicted to social media.

 * Ricardo (50s): The father, a bureaucrat obsessed with order.

 * Karen (30s): The new neighbor, an experience designer... with a cat?

Act I

Scene 1: The Tech Sanctuary

(The scene opens in a minimalist apartment. The living room is a tech shrine. Giant screens on the walls, color-changing LED lights, consoles, and gadgets everywhere. Leticia is on the couch, glued to her phone, filming an Instagram video.)

Leticia: (Into her phone) OMG, my followers! Good morning from my chill oasis, my chic Central Park pad! Just sipping my organic coffee... You guys are the best!

(Ricardo enters, in a suit. He navigates around cables and stands in front of Leticia. She doesn't see him. Ricardo tries to get her attention.)

Ricardo: Leticia, please.

Leticia: (Talking to her phone) Ricardo, babe... Say hi! People love seeing you.

Ricardo: No. I've told you I don't like this... exhibition. Leticia, remember, the condo board meeting to elect a new manager is today. It's important.

Leticia: Ugh, so boring, sweetie. Not getting any likes on that! Ricardo, can you tidy up these cables? They're an eyesore.

(Ricardo sighs. He bends down to straighten the cables. Elías, the youngest son, enters without taking off his futuristic headphones and sits down at his computer. Ricardo looks at him, exasperated.)

Ricardo: Elías. Take off those headphones! It's not normal that you can't hear me.

Elías: (Without turning around, his voice coming from a synthesizer on his computer) My auditory field is optimized for low frequencies. Your voice is not a priority, father.

Ricardo: (To Leticia) Look at your son! He's going to walk into traffic one of these days.

Leticia: Ricardo, don't exaggerate. Look how cute! He got a thumbs up on his story.

(Ricardo stands in the middle of the room, resigned. The doorbell rings. No one notices. Elías doesn't react. Leticia keeps filming. Leo adjusts a gaming headset.)

Ricardo: I'll get it. (To the door) Who is it?

Karen: (From outside) It's the new neighbor! From 301, right next door! And... I think my cat has gotten out. Have you seen him? He's a Siamese with one blue eye and one green eye... His name is Schrödinger.

(Ricardo opens the door. Karen enters. She's dressed in casual clothes, but with a modern designer flair. She carries a backpack with a logo that says: "Reboot Reality". She looks a little flustered.)

Karen: Hi! I'm Karen, your new neighbor! Sorry to intrude, but I'm looking for my cat. He's very elusive.

(The silence is absolute. No one pays her any attention. Leticia keeps filming.)

Leticia: (Into her phone) OMG! I think we have an invader! She says she's looking for a... a monster with weird eyes? So scary!

Leo: (Headphones on) Did someone say horror stream? My followers love that!

Elías: Analyzing feline escape patterns in high-density buildings... Probability of reappearance in ventilation ducts: 78.3%.

Ricardo: (Frustrated) Hold on, everyone! Welcome, neighbor Karen. Please excuse my family, they're a bit... self-absorbed. We haven't seen any cat.

Karen: Oh, what a shame. I could have sworn I saw a flash of strange eyes just now... Maybe he slipped into a corner.

(Karen starts looking around, moving cushions and peering behind furniture.)

Leticia: (Screaming) Ahh! I felt something furry on my foot! Ricardo, get this creature off me!

(Leticia jumps up, looking at the floor in horror. There's nothing there.)

Leo: Mom, chill! It's probably your imagination. Although... a radioactive mutant cat would be a good plot twist for my next gameplay.

Elías: Logging anomalous thermal fluctuations near the couch... Could indicate the presence of a small homeothermic body.

Ricardo: (To Karen, with a forced smile) Don't worry, neighbor. If we see your... Schrödinger, we'll let you know. Now, if you'll excuse us...

Karen: Of course. Thanks. Anyway, if you hear a strange meow... that's him! (Karen hands him a card with her number.) Let me know!

(Karen leaves. After closing the door, Ricardo sighs in relief.)

Leticia: I still feel tickles! She probably left fleas! I'm going to have to disinfect everything!

Leo: Gamer fleas! They could be the new online epidemic!

Elías: Initiating parasite scan protocol in the electromagnetic spectrum... Negative results. The sensation could be psychosomatic in origin.

Ricardo: (Yelling) Enough! There's no cat! She's just a new neighbor!

(Just then, a faint meow is heard, coming from an unknown location.)

Leticia, Leo, and Elías: The cat!

Ricardo: (His face distraught) This... this can't be happening.

Act II

Scene 2: The Feline Mystery and the Unexpected Blackout

(The scene continues the next day. The search for Schrödinger has become an obsession for the Santoyos. Leticia sprays every corner with disinfectant, claiming to have seen "feline shadows" in the reflections of the turned-off screens. Leo is recording videos theorizing about the cat's quantum nature, suggesting it could be in multiple dimensions at once. Elías has dedicated all his computing resources to tracking any sign of the feline's presence on the condo network.)

Leticia: I saw it! I swear I saw its tail between the couch cushions! It was... like a long shadow with a hint of Siamese color.

Leo: That confirms my theory! Karen's cat is an interdimensional entity that briefly manifests on our plane of existence! I'm going to title my next stream: "Schrödinger: The Central Park Ghost Cat"!

Elías: Analysis of meow patterns recorded by neighbors in recent months... 92% correlation with Siamese feline vocalizations. The presence of subject "Schrödinger" in the building could be a recurring event.

Ricardo: (Enters with a newspaper, visibly upset) This is ridiculous! There's already a Facebook group dedicated to the "Central Park Mystery Cat"! People are organizing search parties! They're going to invade our apartment!

(At that moment, the lights flicker and the entire apartment goes dark. The electronic devices turn off.)

Leticia: The blackout! It must have been the cat! It sabotaged the electrical system with its psychic powers!

Leo: A gamer blackout! This is a sign! The universe is conspiring for me to get back to streaming! Although... without internet...

Elías: (In the dark, his voice slightly scared) Initiating emergency protocol... Activating tactical flashlight... Detecting energy spikes just before the failure... Possible overload caused by... a cat?

Ricardo: (Fumbling) Enough! It wasn't any cat! It must have been a problem with the building's transformer. This is chaos! And I had another crucial meeting today! My slides were in the cloud!

(Karen's voice is heard from the hallway.)

Karen: Neighbors! Are you okay? There's a general blackout in the building! Has anyone seen Schrödinger in the dark? He's even harder to find like this!

Leticia, Leo, and Elías: Karen! Your cat caused this!

Ricardo: (To Karen, trying to keep his composure) Neighbor, good evening. Yes, we're fine... Do you think your cat...?

Karen: (With a tone of mystery) Schrödinger is a very special cat... Let's just say he has a very particular way of interacting with energy.

(The Santoyo family looks at each other in the dark, with the growing sense that Karen's arrival and her cat's disappearance (or not?) have altered their lives in an unexpected way.)

Act III

Scene 3: The Disconnected Reality and the Mysterious Departure

(A week has passed since the blackout. The power has been restored, but the Santoyo family is strangely disconnected from their devices. The modem seems to be broken without explanation. Leticia has discovered the pleasure of observing the plants on her balcony, though she's still convinced the leaves move on their own due to the spectral presence of the cat. Leo tries to draw, frustrated by the lack of instant likes. Elías is building a rudimentary device with antennas and cans, "to detect Schrödinger's ethereal waves.")

Leticia: Look! The flowerpot moved again! It's him! He's playing with us from the digital afterlife!

Leo: Without internet, my online existence is null! It's like I've disappeared! Although... I've had an idea for a live action about a gamer trapped in the real world by a ghost cat.

Elías: Analysis... Capturing weak signals... Could be fluctuations of psi-feline energy... Or the neighbor's washing machine.

Ricardo: (More relaxed than usual) Curiously, without internet, I've been able to read that report I've had pending for months. And I've talked to my children... face to face! It's... different.

(Karen enters the apartment without knocking, with a small box in her hands.)

Karen: Hello, neighbors! I have good news... and maybe an explanation.

Leticia, Leo, and Elías: The cat! Did you find it?

Karen: (Smiling enigmatically) Let's just say Schrödinger has a very particular way of manifesting. And sometimes, when his work here is done... he just leaves.

Ricardo: His work? What do you mean?

Karen: I came to Central Park with a purpose: to remind you of what's important beyond the screens. Sometimes, a little... reboot is necessary. And Schrödinger is very good at that.

(Karen opens the box. Inside, there's no cat, but a small electronic device with a blinking light.)

Karen: This is a low-power quantum interference generator. I activated it temporarily. The blackout, the broken modem... were all part of the experience.

Leticia: Experience? Was all of this planned? And the cat...?

Karen: Schrödinger is a metaphor. A way to make you pay attention to the invisible, to what really matters.

Leo: So there's no interdimensional ghost cat?! My live action!

Elías: Analysis... Sophisticated deception with elements of technological disruption and psychological suggestion... Fascinating.

Ricardo: (With a faint smile) Karen... you're... peculiar.

Karen: (Winking) Let's just say I'm an experience designer who takes her job very seriously. Now, I have to go. I have other reboots to perform in other universes... I mean, condos.

(Karen says goodbye and leaves, leaving the Santoyo family in silence, staring at the blinking device. Suddenly, the main screen in the apartment turns on, showing the same image Karen put up at the beginning: "WELCOME TO THE REAL WORLD".)

Leticia: The screen turned on?

Leo: Yeah, Mom. No more digital blackout.

Elías: But it doesn't matter anymore.

Ricardo: (Smiling) No, it doesn't matter. Now we have a life to live.

(The three of them approach their screens, but for a moment, they hesitate. In the silence, a soft, very faint meow is heard from somewhere in the house. The four of them look at each other.)

The End