ACT ONE

SCENE 1

Stage dark. A television flickers on — a nature show: Africa, the Serengeti. Hyenas circle a dying gazelle. Lights up. Late afternoon. ALICE, somewhere between thirty and fifty years old, sits erect in an armchair on a city sidewalk, her back against an electronics store window, reading a newspaper. She is dressed in layers but not shabby. Her demeanor is somewhat haughty, almost imperious — the chair is her throne. The television is in the window, behind and slightly above her head. As ALICE reads, the door to her right opens, and GIDEON steps out — mid-forties, suit jacket, jeans. He seems dazed, stares straight ahead. The door clicks shut behind him. He starts, pats his pocket for the key, turns and tries the door — door is locked. Checks his pockets for the key. No key. Pauses. Rubs temple. Puts hand on knob, gives it a good shake. Nothing. Tries harder, like opening a jar. Glances at ALICE , who is seemingly focused on reading her newspaper. GIDEON tries the knob delicately, like a safecracker. Nothing. Takes off his jacket, turns pockets inside out searching for key. GIDEON looks at ALICE, ALICE glances at him. GIDEON gestures that he's locked himself out. LICE raises an eyebrow.

GIDEON: I live here.

ALICE shrugs. GIDEON puts his coat back on, the pockets hanging out.

GIDEON looks at the names on the bells. Looks at ALICE.

GIDEON: My name isn't on the bell yet. (Scans names.) This one should be me.

From her chair, ALICE squints at bells, clucks her tongue, goes back to her newspaper. GIDEON tries door again, subtly presses shoulder against it. ALICE half watches over the top of newspaper, skeptical. GIDEON takes doorknob in hand; kicks once, ineffectually, at bottom of door. GIDEON leans away from door, then throws his shoulder against it. Door doesn't budge. ALICE smiles, shakes head knowingly. Near defeat, GIDEON leans head wearily against the door, stares down length of the sidewalk, away from ALICE. As ALICE speaks, GIDEON turns slowly to listen.

ALICE (reading from newspaper, to no one in particular): The question, turns out, is not why we sleep, but why we wake up. (Looks up matter-of-factly.) Dreaming. (To GIDEON) Dreaming is the more natural state — consciousness, this (looks around) ... this is unnatural.

GIDEON stares at her, failing to understand the significance. ALICE folds newspaper, slowly stands, moves to GIDEON. He stiffens. ALICE taps his chest with the newspaper.

ALICE: Scientifically there's no reason to wake up.

Using the folded newspaper, ALICE moves GIDEON a few inches away from bells, then looks at the names on bells for a moment, her finger hovering over them. She presses one, waits, listens. Nothing.

ALICE: No one home.

GIDEON: I live alone.

ALICE: Is that how it is? (Walks back to chair.) Nice to have the place to yourself. (Sits, looks at GIDEON intently.) You can walk around naked.

GIDEON 's eyes widen. ALICE opens newspaper. GIDEON looks at bells.

GIDEON: I'll ring my neighbor. We pass each other in the hall. We've never spoken ...

ALICE: Neighbors can be good. But you should be careful.

GIDEON looks at ALICE. Looks at bells. Rings a bell. Waits. He is about to ring again when intercom speaks, nearly unintelligible.

INTERCOM: Whoizit?

GIDEON: Hi, uh. I live in the apartment beside you. I've locked myself out. Apartment thirteen.

INTERCOM: (Unintelligible static.)

Silence. GIDEON hesitates, then rings again.

GIDEON: Do you think you could buzz me in?

Silence. Reluctantly he rings the bell again. Intercom clearer now, annoyed.

INTERCOM: What?

GIDEON: Could you buzz me in? I've locked myself out. If I could use your phone ...

INTERCOM (nearly unintelligible): Jesus H. Christ.

As intercom speaks, the door buzzes for a second. GIDEON, surprised, lurches toward it, but too late. GIDEON glances at ALICE. Rubs temple. Looks at bells again. Straightens himself. Presses bell.

GIDEON: Sorry. I missed it that time. (Beat.) I'm not feeling well. I wonder if you could buzz me in again?

Silence. ALICE shakes head knowingly. On the television, a million wildebeests migrate northward. ALICE stands, moves beside GIDEON.

ALICE: You gotta be careful with neighbors. They can turn on you. (ALICE squares shoulders, rings bell, hisses softly into mouthpiece.) You have to come out sometime, bitch.

GIDEON looks aghast. ALICE sits back down, takes off her shoes, rubs feet.

ALICE: I had a neighbor like that.

GIDEON straightens his jacket collar.

ALICE: Behind on the rent?

GIDEON shakes head. Notices his pockets turned inside out, tucks them in.

ALICE: That's how it starts — show up late a few times, get the sack, the money dries up ...

GIDEON: Money is not a problem.

GIDEON takes out wallet, pulls out a credit card, shows it to ALICE.

GIDEON looks at door, looks at card, tries to jimmy door with card.

GIDEON: Not a problem at all. (Card snaps in half.) Goddammit.

ALICE: That's a good lock on that door, as I recall. Does what you want a lock to do.

GIDEON glares at her.

ALICE: Beg, borrow, get someone else to pay, you have to keep up on the rent.

GIDEON: Listen, I'm not behind on the rent. I've locked myself out.

ALICE: I don't see you heading off to work every morning. Not lately.

GIDEON: That's ... temporary. I'm between things. (Flutters hand vaguely up at building.) Working at home for now.

ALICE (holds up newspaper): Me too.

GIDEON almost smiles.

GIDEON: Do you know the landlord's name? The woman we're subletting from never told me.

ALICE: Oh, I wouldn't do that. Tell the landlord? What's to keep him from sliding someone else in?

GIDEON considers this. ALICE pulls a cell phone from the chair cushions, holds it casually up to GIDEON.

ALICE: Why don't you call a locksmith?

GIDEON looks dubiously at the cell phone.

ALICE (looks more intently at GIDEON): I found it in the park.

GIDEON shakes his head slightly, turns away, leans his head against the door.

Blackout.

SCENE 2

Lights up. Morning. Television off. GIDEON is squeezed in beside ALICE on the chair, asleep with his...