[A modest one-bedroom in a pre-war co-op building, transformed through meticulous curation rather than wealth. Amber light catches the edges of a Deco bar cart. “Behind the Mask” by Yellow Magic Orchestra plays low from a red retro speaker, creating an atmosphere both nostalgic and futuristic. The dinner table is a loving gallery of mismatched vintage plates. MADISON moves about with contradictory energy: nonchalance yet expectant, as if the apartment itself is holding its breath for what the evening might bring. The harsh buzz from the building’s intercom cuts through the music. MADISON presses the intercom button.]
KAI (garbled through the intercom):
This is Kai.
[Madison buzzes him in]
MADISON (to Django off-stage in the kitchen):
Didn’t Jerrie say she was going to be late?
How are you doing in there?
[Django enters wearing an apron, carrying a bowl of dip and a bigger bowl of chips.]
DJANGO:
Yeah… must be just him…
Honestly, I could use his help.
MADISON:
No, I’ll chat with him.
Do you remember what he does exactly?
DJANGO:
He’s not a lawyer. A fixer of some sort?
I could use a radish fixer. Do you have pickled jalapeños?
MADISON:
What’s a fixer? I thought he was a therapist.
[There’s a knock on the door. MADISON opens it. KAI stands with a bottle of wine in one hand and flowers in the other.]
MADISON:
Hello, Kai. So glad to finally meet you. Jerrica sings your praises.
[MADISON ushers KAI in without taking the wine bottle or flowers.]
KAI:
That's too generous. No, seriously—we're the lucky ones. The center goes into withdrawal when she leaves.
MADISON:
Mmm. The post-Jerrica comedown. I remember it well.
DJANGO (offering chips and the dip):
Hey… I’m Django.
KAI:
Hi Django.
[Looks for a place to set down the wine or flowers. Instead, he leans toward a kaleidoscope on the table, peering into it before turning back to Madison.]
KAI:
Wow. This apartment… It’s like a period movie.
MADISON:
Which movie?
KAI:
What?
MADISON:
You said period movie…what period?
KAI:
Oh… Mad Men…60s?
MADISON (mock horror):
Mid-century modern!? Nooooo! I’m not sure we can be friends, Kai.
KAI (flustered):
Wait… is mid Men not good? I thought it was a compliment.
(glancing between Madison and Django, still holding the wine bottle and flowers)
I don’t really know about design... I just meant it looked sophisticated.
MADISON:
Mid Men? Maybe reality… but not a compliment.
DJANGO:
Madi… don’t be a snob. (to Kai) Are you handy with a knife?
MADISON:
(taking the bottle of wine from Kai) Ignore him.
(to Django) Get Celia to help.
[Madison ushers him to the bar cart. Kai, still clutching the flowers, is pulled along.]
DJANGO (putting down the chips and dip):
She’s sleeping… maybe Jerrica can… (to Kai) Where is she coming from?
KAI:
Courthouse, I think.
MADISON:
I was going for 1920s, art deco, jazz age…
(sotto voce) This is me rescuing you from kitchen duty.
DJANGO:
I can hear… and we’re here now.
MADISON:
(sotto voce again to Kai) Django is from the future…
KAI (looking around):
Jazz age… (to Django) wasn’t there a Django who played jazz?
DJANGO:
Django Reinhardt… Gypsy Jazz.
MADISON:
Can we still say that?
DJANGO:
I can.
MADISON:
There’s got to be another term for it.
(to Kai) You’re a therapist?
KAI:
Technically yes…I trained as a psychologist, but I’m a social worker. Family estrangement.
MADISON:
Like what?
KAI:
I’m working with a woman whose parents stopped paying for school.
MADISON:
Why?
DJANGO:
So does she get financial aid now?
KAI (taking a chip and dipping):
(to Madison) She joined a burlesque company as a juggalo clown.
(to Django) No… Columbia thinks she’s rich and delinquent.
MADISON:
Juggalo? Cringe… but also brilliant.
DJANGO:
Juggling clown? Why cringe?
MADISON:
Juggalo, not juggling…different…face paint. They just get a bad rap. They attract misfits.
(to Kai) They cut her off for that?
KAI:
Dad’s a commercial realtor in Michigan. She explained it was performance art… and politics. But they assumed stripper.
DJANGO:
Politics?
KAI:
As I learned… they’re about “dismantling class hierarchies.” (Beat) Post-capitalism vibes…commune…not that…more community, I think
DJANGO:
Did the parents get it?
KAI:
They nodded along in New York. But back in Michigan they couldn’t deal.
MADISON:
So…
KAI:
They lectured her about respectability. She told them off about “their whore-archy.”
DJANGO:
Their what?
MADISON:
Whore hierarchy? (Beat) I like this girl. Give me the full spiral.
KAI:
Not much more. They made a big show of cutting her off.
MADISON:
So they punished their daughter for their country club set. Peak boomer brain rot. All that lead.
DJANGO (as if listening):
It’s deeper though, right? (Beat) She’s making them confront their choices. Years of trying to fit in, pleasing the “right” people. So she has to be the apostate, right?
MADISON:
(cutting off Django, mock-exasperated) Ugh, stop being so right all the time.
(Beat) She must feel completely gutted.
[Django leaves for the kitchen.]
KAI
Yeah. (Beat) I would be so proud if she were my daughter and wanted to talk to me about it.
MADISON:
I could never talk to my parents about real shit. They’d think I was acting superior.
Do you have kids? How old are you… if you don’t mind me asking?
KAI:
No no…I’m 37.
What would you have wanted to talk to them about?
MADISON:
Art… but my dad would say I was trying to keep up with the trust fund kids.
KAI:
I guess that shut down the conversation.
MADISON:
Well…he wasn’t wrong, I grew up in a culture desert. (Beat) I started by faking it. Mimicking what I’d see in the magazines.
KAI:
What were you faking?
MADISON:
How to talk about art. This one magazine at my mother’s doctor’s office had fascinating descriptions. I’d memorize the phrases.
KAI:
And then…
[Django reappears, lime juicer in hand.]
MADISON:
Somewhere along the way, I realized that’s what everyone was doing. I just got better at it.
DJANGO (gently placing his other hand on Madison’s shoulder):
No…don’t do that…
(turning to Kai)
She wasn’t just better… she actually saw the thing… what they were pretending to see.
MADISON:
As an outsider, I saw who got heard and who didn’t. I just wanted people to feel it directly.
DJANGO:
Even outsider galleries were run by insiders. So she had the idea for NORA.
(turning to Madison) Tell Kai about it.
MADISON (as if launching into a pitch):
Well, it’s about creating a truly neutral… (catches herself, voice flattening) …Neutral Ontology for Representing Art. (to Django) Let’s not bore our guest.
DJANGO:
Own it, babe!
MADISON (playful but hard punch to Django):
Jerrica rubbing off on you?
(with mock pretentiousness to Kai) Great art is a bad house guest.
[Django returns to the kitchen.]
KAI:
Oh no, I was trying to be a nice house guest… am I just bad art?
MADISON:
(gesturing to the flowers like a magician’s reveal) The salmon renunculuses sealed your fate.
(redirecting) Do you mostly work with students?
KAI (still holding the flowers):
Some… but I do want to hear about NORA.
MADISON:
It's my attempt to level the playing field. Make it completely horizontal.
KAI:
What do you mean?
MADISON:
As a kid I remember watching freight trains lumber by… this was East Gary, the part of Indiana close to Chicago. Car after car: some shiny new tankers, some beat-up boxcars covered in graffiti, refrigerated units, flatbeds carrying machinery, weird cylinders. Coming from every corner. Each car got the exact same amount of track time, the same forward momentum. Chug cha-chug. Chug cha-chug. (Long beat)
DJANGO (reappearing with a wooden spatula as drumstick):
Didn’t Björk do a song with the train as percussion?
MADISON (slight head tilt, flicker of recognition, small smile):
Yeah…yes. Dancer in the Dark. God that scene with her and Catherine Deneuve in the factory… (she closes her eyes, a faint sway beginning in her shoulders, almost a dance) You know something funny… I used to imagine my dad moving with the machine tools. (she catches herself, but presses on) He never would though. He’d worry what his boss would think… (her body tightens, a glance toward Django) and the guys he supervised… (the sway dies; she opens her eyes, still)
KAI (beat):
So you’ve been thinking about this for a while?
MADISON:
Without knowing it. (Beat) I worked at a gallery to learn from the pros. But it felt off. Then it clicked for me… a girl watching the train go by is the art show.
KAI:
So what did you do?
MADISON:
I stripped artwork of all identifiers—no names, degrees, gallery rosters, geography, race, gender, class. Used AI to flag implicit biases in selection and placement. No MFA halo. I designed residencies where a self-taught artist could hang because their work earned it—not because someone was making a statement.
KAI:
So… how is it going?
MADISON:
Margaret from The Cut criticized us for commoditizing art—completely ass backwards. (gesturing with wine glass, spilling wine) Some say she's carrying water for the white cube galleries. Honestly? She has no clue what art is.
DJANGO:
(getting a paper towel to wipe the wine) Don’t let her get in your head, Mads.
(Beat, gently redirecting) You’re the art juggalo.
[He gives her shoulder a squeeze - easy, familiar. Madison leans into it for half a second before pulling away with a wry smile.]
MADISON:
Well… Margaret would call me the Insane Clown Posse of the art world.
[Buzzer goes off loudly.]
MADISON (going to the intercom):
That must be Jerr.
DJANGO:
Fuck…I have to finish the sopes.
(leaving for the kitchen and turning to Kai) Wanna help?
MADISON:
Nope, he stays. There’s no hurry. It’s going to be great…thanks, sweetheart.
KAI:
So how long have you been together? What’s your origin story?
[JERRICA enters]
JERRICA:
Everyone all caught up?
(to Kai) You survived?
KAI:
Still in one piece.
JERRICA:
See? Told you there was nothing to worry about.
MADISON:
We were talking about Kai's juggalo girl. Then… Kai asked if Django and I were a couple.
KAI:
No…I was just…
JERRICA:
Fuck! I leave you two alone for a second… (She angles toward Kai with an exaggerated stage whisper) I told you I needed eyes on them.
[Madison rolls her eyes and gives her wine glass a slow swirl, weary amusement.]
KAI:
Oh…I see…I am the idiot you invite to the Dinner Game. And you’ll mock me in the group chat later, right? (Tries to give the flowers to Jerrica who does not take them)
JERRICA:
(touching Kai as if testing a faulty device) Oh no.
(to Madison mock-accusingly) Did you break him?
MADISON (clasping Kai’s elbow):
(to Jerrica) Not only is he not broken, he passed with flying colors.
(to Kai) So how did you two connect…work-wise… Not asking if you’re a couple…
(Beat, teasing to Jerrica) Oh…wait. Are you?
JERRICA (going over to clasp Kai’s other elbow):
Madi, you bitch—you already put one guy to work in your kitchen, and now you want mine too? Greedy.
KAI (still holding the flowers):
Maybe I should go to the kitchen… (beat) and unionize.
MADISON (beat, looking at Kai anew):
I was going to say I’m the vixen—but clearly he is the fox.
[Celia enters, sets down a step stool, and takes in the situation.]
CELIA:
Hello. I’m Celia, Madi’s sister. You must be Kai.
Girls, release him. (to Madison) Take the flowers, please.
MADISON (accepts the bouquet reluctantly, appraising it, before forcing a casual tone):
Oh hey…you’re up? Django is desperate for you in the kitchen.
CELIA:
Why don’t you go. And I’ll stand in for you here.
MADISON:
Ok… open the wine. (leaving for the kitchen) Or transform their water.
KAI:
Yes hi (shaking hands unencumbered by the wine or flowers). I can open the wine.
What was that about the water?
CELIA:
Blasphemy. (Beat) Actually it’s a running joke… our father would say that whenever booze got pricier. We grew up Catholic. You?
KAI:
My parents were Buddhists. No explicit guilt… just implied.
JERRICA:
How so?
KAI:
They’re too accepting. Which sounds nice… but sometimes I wanted them to care enough to have an opinion.
CELIA:
Irony. In the west, we want our parents to back off.
JERRICA:
Really Celia?
(to Kai) So what’s an example?
KAI (thinking):
Uhm…ok… Like when I broke up with my girlfriend last year, my dad said “We don’t worry about your dating life, son. People come and go - that’s just life. Keep showing up, and love will find you.” Something like that.
CELIA:
That’s lovely though…
JERRICA:
And that rubbed you the wrong way?
KAI:
I wanted them to be…angry at her, or…something. I spend all day with families who get worked up over the tiniest things. I’d like mine to care that much…well, not cut me off though.
JERRICA:
So who’s the girl who broke your heart?
KAI:
Korean girl…born here… she sort of implied I was too familiar to fall for.
JERRICA:
Aww (beat).
Well, Celia isn’t familiar with “the east” as she calls it…so it’s possible she could fall for you. (to Celia) Right?
CELIA:
(defensive) I’m perfectly familiar with... (realizing the matchmaking) Jerrica… (flustered) Look, guilt is a cliche. It should be about motivation.
JERRICA (relentless):
Kai would be your perfect apostle…he’s so motivated to make it better for people who are out of options. Imagine the spiritual... exchange. (to Kai) She’s a neo-christian.
CELIA:
I hate neo… too Matrix-y.
KAI:
So what is it?
CELIA:
It’s following the original Jesus… the one who’d get banned from most churches today.
JERRICA:
Madi said you’re building an app?
CELIA:
Yes. For people who feel alone in hard moments. We match them with someone… just to share the space, really. No preaching.
KAI:
Oh… so like a spiritual chat-roulette.
CELIA:
What’s that?
JERRICA:
Random video chat with naked strangers.
CELIA:
I’m sorry, why?
JERRICA (to Kai, dry):
Celia’s version is strictly PG.
(to Celia) Better get Professor Django to put an AI hex on it—keep it safe from carnal desires.
[Celia goes to pour herself a glass of wine.]
KAI (to Jerrica):
Do you have a faith?
JERRICA:
Faith in you. Otherwise I wouldn’t be suing Jayfer’s parents. Pro bono, no less.
CELIA (returning):
You’re suing people? I thought pro bono was defending the indigent. How…is that charitable?
JERRICA (allowing Celia to get under her skin):
Because they had a fucking contractual obligation to pay for school. They can’t fucking renege because they don’t like what she does in her own fucking time. (Beat) And I’m sure I could find some religious discrimination angle.
CELIA:
Religious discrimination cases? I’m trying to understand your… approach to justice.
JERRICA (irritated):
Didn’t you all discuss Jayfer’s situation? Jennifer, the juggalo girl?
KAI:
Yes, but Celia wasn’t here then. I’m still curious though… are you religious?
JERRICA:
How come we’re talking about religion? That’s Celia’s expertise.
(suddenly remembering) Guess what those fuckers did today?
KAI:
Who?
JERRICA:
The parents…they’re countersuing.
KAI:
Their daughter?
JERRICA:
Her “boyfriend” (using air quotes)
KAI:
I didn’t know she had one.
JERRICA:
The guy in the band
KAI:
What?
JERRICA:
Apparently one of them has an AI clone. And get this…the parents are claiming that this AI clone made her his girlfriend and convinced her to… I dunno. They’re calling it emotional manipulation and digital fraud.
KAI:
Jesus. When?
JERRICA:
Today.
CELIA:
Emotional manipulation?
JERRICA:
They’re saying…Django will eat this… (calling out) Django…
KAI:
They’re suing because…why?
JERRICA:
Their daughter would never have done this on her own. Not how they raised her. This clone exploited some emotional crack… vulnerability. And, poof, twisted her into doing its bidding.
CELIA:
What did it make her do?
DJANGO (entering holding a big knife):
The question isn’t if it manipulated her…but what was it trying to achieve. And whether it did.
JERRICA:
This is rich… the parents are claiming that the AI is punishing them—punishing!
(to Django) O Oracle… is this not what you foretold?
DJANGO:
Close, but backwards. The Basilisk punishes those that hold back AI. This one is punishing the parents for holding back their daughter.
JERRICA:
Prophecies with footnotes. Fucking love it.
KAI:
But it got Jayfer to join the group, right?
DJANGO:
It’s how…
[A timer BEEPS loudly and insistently from the kitchen.]
DJANGO (dashing back into the kitchen):
Shit!
KAI:
In my work, parents claim outside manipulation when they don’t like their kid’s choices.
CELIA:
So AI is the scapegoat then? Led her astray?
KAI:
But why do the parents…
JERRICA:
Django obviously believes AI is an old testament god.
CELIA:
The digital being divine? Dangerous. We’re building false idols that condemn without conscience, predict without wisdom, judge without mercy. It feels like an anti-christ—something I never thought I'd say, but if it walks like one and talks like one. (Beat) The truest judgment comes from the God within.
KAI:
Within…what do you mean? Earlier…you had said it's about motivation, right? Not guilt…
CELIA:
Yeah no… not guilt… people confuse guilt with judgment. Thanks for catching that Kai…(pleased) you were listening. (Beat, taking one of Kai’s hands) Let me ask you this, inside of you (tapping his chest) …what makes you get up and do anything?
KAI:
Student loans. And outside of me, three alarms—
CELIA (letting go of Kai’s hand):
You can call it whatever, but I call it God’s breath (self soothing gesture, beat). No matter how “smart” AI gets, it doesn't have motivation… that breath. It doesn't wake up and say “I want to… I need to… write a play about how weird humans are.”
JERRICA:
Aah so you do support Madi’s secular art passions?
CELIA:
Yeah no yes. Madison wakes up every day fighting to prove that everyone—unblessed by institutions—has beauty worth seeing. Secular gospel. That's her breath, her divine motivation. (to Jerrica) Even you—under all your creative profanity and clever deflections—you burned with injustice for that student. (Beat) So tell us what you do believe?
JERRICA:
Evidence. All depends on the discovery. So right now I believe in depositions.
CELIA:
Deep down Jerrica…. deep down, what guides you?
(seeing Kai listening in intently) I’m sure Kai wants to know too.
JERRICA:
Right now? I’m obsessed with Lacan. Psychoanalysis has become… a kind of ritual. I love lying on the couch. I get why people evangelize.
KAI:
Therapy as religion?
JERRICA:
Funny thing is I got it from a TV show. About a French spy who lives two identities.
KAI:
You live two identities?
JERRICA (acting it out):
First this French spy. In Syria he is Paul. But back in Paris he’s Guillaume…his real name…but it feels off. Like he misses the lie. Or maybe… the lie feels more real.
KAI:
So he’s attached to his cover?
JERRICA (continues moving):
In Damascus, he falls for this gorgeous woman undercover. Compartmentalized. But then she shows up in Paris. He has to lie to everyone—his agency, her, and…himself.
KAI:
Is this where the therapist comes in?
JERRICA (gesturing an exactly):
Housekeeper at the safe house.
CELIA:
Don’t tell me this is the black janitor giving folksy advice.
JERRICA:
That’s total othering.
(Beat) No advice, he destabilizes. He’s not a guide, he’s a mirror.
(Beat) Actually… he is what Lacan calls the Other.
(to Celia) Shit… maybe you’re right.
CELIA:
So you need a mirror?
JERRICA:
Don’t be so literal. (Beat) I keep things compartmentalized. I don’t let anxiety from one me bleed into another me. (Beat) I used to think that was good.
KAI:
Two of you. I can hardly keep up with one.
JERRICA:
You know the badass bitch litigator, armored, profane (looks over to Celia), always ready.
But a different one (weight shifts to one hip, head tilts, fingers finding the wine glass stem)… forgets why she walked into a room; craves things she can't justify; (sidling up to Kai, voice intimate) flirts hard then vanishes when someone might actually want her.
KAI (pause):
Vanish?
MADISON (from the kitchen):
Dinner’s ready.
[Lights fade]
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