Three Words Between Floors

MS. VALE: (In a community theater, she gathers the cast around a cardboard elevator.) Our play takes a traveler to impossible places. Today's rehearsal begins with the ocean scene. Inez plays the traveler, Zoya plays the elevator attendant, and Bram plays the ocean current.

ZOYA: (Counting words in her script.) My entire part is, "Next stop: ocean!" Three words. I practiced the traveler's speeches for a week. Now my whole performance could fit on a sticky note.

BRAM: You have three more words than I do. My character is moving water. I carry blue cloth across the stage, then disappear behind a screen.

INEZ: Could you help me study this page? The heading says "Arrival." Beneath the drawing, the caption says, "The traveler discovers that the elevator has reached the ocean floor." But when should I open the door?

ZOYA: Probably whenever you reach it. Couldn't the scene work without an announcement and some cloth? Let's try it once while Bram and I watch from the seats.

MS. VALE: We can test that. Inez, begin with your speech about wanting to visit somewhere new. Then follow the actions printed in your script.

INEZ: (She speaks, touches the elevator rail, and waits. Then she opens the door.) What extraordinary fish! (She looks across the bare stage.) That sounded strange. I haven't given the audience any reason to imagine fish.

BRAM: And I couldn't tell whether the elevator had arrived. You touched the rail, but that might mean you were resting your hand. There wasn't a clear signal.

ZOYA: My line is your cue, isn't it? The signal that tells you when to open the door. I was counting its words instead of noticing its job.

MS. VALE: Look at what happens around that cue, too. Bram, the current begins moving after the announcement. Inez sees it before she describes the fish.

ZOYA: Then I shouldn't shout my line just to make it bigger. I'll wait until Inez touches the rail and speak clearly. That gives the journey a definite ending and the next scene a beginning.

BRAM: (Lifting the cloth.) And if I rush, this looks like laundry escaping. I'll move steadily, with little rises and dips. The audience needs water, not someone trying to get offstage quickly.

INEZ: (They repeat the scene. After Zoya's announcement, she opens the door and watches Bram ripple the cloth.) Now I can almost feel the elevator settling. My fish speech belongs somewhere instead of floating by itself.

ZOYA: Could we practice that transition again? I want to find the right pause between touching the rail and speaking. Three words still need precision.

MS. VALE: Certainly. A transition is the change from one part to another. Let's make this one smooth enough that the audience follows it without thinking about us.

ZOYA: (On performance night, waiting beside Bram.) I still wish I'd gotten the traveler. But I'm not wishing away the attendant anymore. I know what would be missing.

BRAM: Me too. (He unfolds the blue cloth carefully.) I'm ready to carry an ocean without spilling it. Not a bad evening's work for someone with no speeches.

INEZ: (Onstage, she finishes her speech and touches the rail. She waits, her hand resting lightly on the cardboard.) Perhaps somewhere entirely different is waiting beyond this door.

ZOYA: (She watches Inez, takes a breath, and speaks.) Next stop: ocean! (The door opens. Bram's cloth rises in a gentle wave, and Inez leans forward to look.)

BRAM: (After the performance, folding the cloth.) Three words and one piece of fabric. We traveled farther than I expected.

ZOYA: (She puts her script beside his.) I used to think a part's size told you its importance. Tomorrow, let's practice that entrance again. I think we can make the water arrive even more smoothly.