Improbability

In Improbability, five of history's greatest minds awaken in a timeless elevator-trapped together by fate, physics, or something stranger. As tension spirals into absurdity, they confront legacy, identity, and the limits of reason. Equal parts satire, philosophy, and surreal comedy, this one-act play is purgatory reimagined-with cigars and metaphysics. Scene One: “Where are We?” INT. ELEVATOR – UNKNOWN TIME A sleek, steel-and-glass elevator glows faintly blue. It's unnaturally large. There are no buttons. Just a hum. The elevator is empty. FREUD enters, calm and composed. He lights a cigar, takes a slow puff, and scans the space with detached curiosity. He says nothing. A moment later, DALI enters with a paintbrush in hand. He tilts his head at the structure as if sizing it up for a surrealist canvas. Freud watches in silence. DALI finally turns and notices him. DALI Ah! Another artifact of civilization: Salvador Dalí at your service. FREUD nodding, cigar in hand FREUD SIGMUND FREUD. A pleasure. (beat, then --) CHURCHILL enters, slightly hunched, adjusting his coat. CHURCHILL (gruff) Do you have a light? FREUD (offers his cigar calmly) Of course. Churchill lights his cigar and puffs. The two men smoke in silence for a moment, clearly satisfied. DALI You look very familiar. Have we met? Are you—are you, Winston Churchill? CHURCHILL Last I checked. The elevator hums gently. Then— EINSTEIN enters, hair wild, eyes lit with curiosity. He takes in the scene immediately. EINSTEIN Fascinating. A closed system, yet the universe itself appears folded into this elevator. To the others Albert Einstein. FREUD Of course. CHURCHILL Charmed, I’m sure. DALI Brilliant hair. You look like entropy. EINSTEIN And your mustache defies every law of order. Before anyone can reply further, the doors open again. LINCOLN enters, tall, pale. He immediately starts coughing from the cigar smoke. LINCOLN Good God. I haven’t been well, and this isn’t helping. Abraham Lincoln. (Regains his composure) He nods politely. The group looks at one another. Now, the five stand inside the glowing chamber. Long pause. The hum continues, then the doors open again and DARWIN saunters in. DARWIN This is not the Beagle that I can say with confidence. FREUD Indeed, it seems we are trapped in a confined space with no apparent means of control. Perhaps this is a classic case of displacement anxiety or a rather curious dream. DALI Dream? No, this is entirely real. The elevator represents the subconscious. We rise and fall in meaning. We are five metaphors trapped in steel. CHURCHILL Metaphor or not, I prefer cigars to symbolism. Where’s the damn button? Is there no porter? LINCOLN Gentlemen, let’s keep our heads. Strange as this may be, we might find more use in sense than in speculation. I’ve seen a nation split in two. This—this is merely a box. FREUD (to Lincoln) And yet your calm could be repression—sublimation of fear into statesmanship. DARWIN Freud, not everything is sex or fear. Perhaps evolution explains our presence—the survival of the fittest. DALI (pointing at Darwin) You believe in slow change. But look! This is an instantaneous absurdity! Boom—five men from different times, plucked like fish from dreams. That is art. That is true. CHURCHILL Truth is simpler: someone’s played a hell of a prank. And I don’t care for pranks before breakfast. LINCOLN Your voice carries weight, sir. Were you in command, I imagine even this elevator would salute. CHURCHILL I prefer elevators that move, Mr. President. FREUD What fascinates me is that we’re all men of influence. Power, thought, creation. Is this...Purgatory for egos? DALI Or the inside of a god’s pocket. DARWIN Fascinating. Each of us is thrown out of time, selected not by nature, but by... what? Improbability? They all pause. The hum grows louder. The elevator lurches but doesn’t move. LINCOLN We ought to find out what brought us here. Not just where we are. CHURCHILL Agreed. If we must wait, let’s not waste time. FREUD Very well, gentlemen. Let’s begin with the most logical question. He looks around the elevator. FREUD Who’s been dreaming of the rest of us? BLACKOUT Scene 2: "Elevator Etiquette Is Dead" Setting: The lights flicker occasionally. The hum has grown high-pitched and maddening. The emergency light has kicked in, a dull red glow. Everyone looks slightly worse for wear. Tension is rising, along with absurdity. CHURCHILL If I had known I would be spending eternity in a lift with four dead men and no whisky, I would have stayed in bed. FREUD What fascinates me is your need for distraction. Classic oral fixation. It likely stems from unresolved tension in early development. CHURCHILL My dear Viennese voyeur, unless you have brandy in your beard or an exit strategy in that leather bag, I suggest you leave my childhood alone. DALI (pulls a small brush from his pocket, painting in mid-air) This is magnificent! The elevator is a gallery, and we are the exhibits. I call this moment “Five Geniuses, No Direction.” LINCOLN That title feels generous. DARWIN (fiddling with the elevator panel) There must be a mechanism. Evolution suggests that systems arise through function. This is nonfunctional. DALI Exactly! This is anti-function! It is pure form! Evolution is a tedious story told slowly. I prefer transformation in an instant. DARWIN Let’s all discard logic and proclaim physics to be merely an opinion. FREUD Careful, Charles. That sounded emotional. DARWIN (muttering) Emotion is just a biochemical reaction. I stubbed my toe on your ego. CHURCHILL Has anyone tried shouting at it? Worked on Parliament. LINCOLN Gentlemen, if we cannot escape, we can at least behave like men of reason. CHURCHILL You freed the slaves, Abraham. Try freeing us from this infernal box. DALI Maybe the elevator is Abraham. Rising. Descending. Always somber. LINCOLN That might be the most absurd thing I’ve ever heard—and I once debated Stephen Douglas for three hours in the rain. FREUD Why do you keep making everything a metaphor? DALI Because liberalism is a form of death. And you, my friend, are embalmed in it. DARWIN How do you analyze him? FREUD I gave up after he tried to seduce a coat rack. DALI She was elegant. You lack vision. CHURCHILL If anyone needs me, I’ll be hallucinating brandy and waiting for gravity to remember how to work. Lights flicker. The elevator gives a cheerful ding—but still doesn’t move. LINCOLN That was either hope... or sarcasm from the machine. CHURCHILL It’s mocking us. Elevators are the new aristocracy—silent, unaccountable, and constantly above us. FREUD I believe we’re experiencing collective displacement. Next comes denial, then bargaining. Eventually, someone will cry. DARWIN It will not be me. DALI (flourishes an imaginary cape) I volunteer as a tribute. A moment passes. The red emergency light kicks on. The five are bathed in red. The hum continues. CHURCHILL We’ve gone from purgatory to a bordello. LINCOLN Red light likely means battery backup. We are officially on borrowed time. FREUD A metaphor for the psyche under repression. DARWIN Or, perhaps, a power system losing energy. Must everything be symbolic? DALI (twirling his mustache) Yes. CHURCHILL We are five men of great intellect. Surely someone has a damn screwdriver? DARWIN Why would I carry tools into the afterlife? CHURCHILL Why wouldn’t you? FREUD A screwdriver, Mr. Churchill, is merely a phallic substitute. CHURCHILL So is your cigar, and yet there it is, eternally unlit. DALI Perhaps this elevator is in purgatory! A floating box between judgment and redemption! LINCOLN That’s one way to describe Congress. DARWIN More like a failed experiment in cooperative intelligence. FREUD What if the elevator isn’t broken? What if it’s responding to us? CHURCHILL You mean this infernal humming box is playing therapist? FREUD It traps us not by walls, but by our unresolved selves. DALI Wonderful! So… we paint our way out! DARWIN Please don’t. DALI (smearing imaginary paint) I title this “Hope in Beige.” LINCOLN That’s just waving your hand. Over nothing. DALI Exactly. CHURCHILL If hope looks like that, we’re doomed. FREUD The only way out may be regression, back to the moment before we entered. DARWIN Are you suggesting psychological time travel? FREUD Or at least a good nap. CHURCHILL Try napping while Dali reenacts interpretive birth against the back wall. DALI It’s called “Womb of the Mind.” DARWIN It’s called nonsense. FREUD It’s projection. LINCOLN We need order. Let’s establish a plan. CHURCHILL By all means, Mr. President. Form a committee. That always speeds things along. LINCOLN Freud, can the mind influence machinery? FREUD Only in the metaphorical sense. LINCOLN Useless. DARWIN Think of the elevator as an ecosystem. Closed. Self-sustaining. Something has disrupted its balance. CHURCHILL Like… what? DARWIN You. CHURCHILL Excuse me? DARWIN Your pacing, your shouting, and your relentless demand for alcohol make you a destabilizer. CHURCHILL I stabilized an empire. FREUD By destabilizing yourself. Classic compensation behavior. DALI You are all science. No soul. Where’s your chaos? FREUD Buried under layers of analysis, thank you. CHURCHILL Gentlemen, if I may -- shut up! DARWIN Brilliant strategy. LINCOLN Let him speak. CHURCHILL What if this isn't about fixing the elevator... but surviving it? We ration energy. Take watches. Guard against madness. DALI Too late on that front. FREUD The elevator is the new unconscious. We must explore it. DARWIN It’s a box. FREUD So is the skull. LINCOLN Enough. Let’s vote. Do we press random buttons until something changes, or sit quietly and wait for divine intervention? CHURCHILL I vote for button-mashing. DALI I vote divine madness. FREUD I abstain. DARWIN I vote logic. LINCOLN That’s four answers from five men. DALI The elevator is chosen. Lights flicker. A new button illuminates—one they hadn’t seen before. It simply says: “INTROSPECTION.” CHURCHILL (staring) That can’t be good. FREUD On the contrary. It’s progress. DARWIN Or a trap. LINCOLN (steps forward) Well. We didn’t get this far by being cowards. CHURCHILL Speak for yourself. I got here by being extremely persuasive under pressure. DALI I was invited. FREUD Let’s push it. CHURCHILL Let’s not. LINCOLN presses the INTROSPECTION button. Silence. The hum stops. The elevator goes completely dark. CHURCHILL I wish to change my vote. DALI (WHISPERING) The gallery is complete. BLACKOUT Scene 3: "Assistance is Futile (Probably)" Everyone’s in various states of irritated boredom or existential sulking. DALI sits cross-legged on the floor, pretending to meditate with one eye open. CHURCHILL chews an unlit cigar as if it owes him money. FREUD quietly tries to psychoanalyze the elevator buttons. DARWIN has begun sorting the occupants into evolutionary categories. LINCOLN stands tall, arms crossed, the picture of contained exasperation. The lights flicker like they’re unsure of their commitment to illumination. Then a calm, genderless VOICE crackles in over an unseen speaker. Slightly robotic, faintly cheerful. VOICE (O.S.) Hello. This is Elevator Operations. We are aware of your improbable situation and are on our way to assist you. Everyone freezes. Looks around. The silence is thick with disbelief and mild paranoia. CHURCHILL Who said that? Show yourself, cowardly angel! DARWIN Operations? What operations? Who monitors a trans-historical elevator? FREUD Perhaps the superego. Ever watchful, always judging. VOICE (O.S.) Please remain calm. Movement may resume shortly. Do not attempt to exit the elevator. Do not tamper with reality. Do not make eye contact with Salvador Dali. Everyone slowly turns to look at DALI. DALI You see? Even machines are afraid of me. LINCOLN If there is help coming, we’d appreciate more specifics. Who sent you? Where are we? VOICE (O.S.) Classified. Your presence is a result of a Temporal Cross-Stream Misalignment. Think of it as a...cosmic scheduling error. CHURCHILL Ah. Bureaucracy. Even in eternity. DARWIN Are we... alive? VOICE (O.S.) Yes. In a manner of speaking. Though you are technically deceased in your originating timelines, your consciousnesses have been recompiled for containment and observation. FREUD Recompiled! We’re data now. I always suspected I’d end up in someone’s thesis. DALI Then this is not madness—it is curation! We are the art; the exhibit! This elevator is the Louvre of lunacy! CHURCHILL We’re caught in an interdimensional PowerPoint. DARWIN PowerPoint represents an evolutionary dead-end. LINCOLN Is there anything we can do to assist in our own rescue? VOICE (O.S.) Yes. Remain stationary. Avoid philosophical disputes. Limit surrealism. DALI’s mustache visibly wilts, like a flower denied sun. DALI Cruelty! To silence my essence is to kill a rainbow mid-bloom! FREUD I assume you’re listening. Why these five? What is the common thread? VOICE (O.S.) You were selected for your cultural imprint, ideological variance, and capacity for unpredictable discourse. Your names also tested well in focus groups. CHURCHILL So, we find ourselves in a cosmic talk show pilot. DARWIN I would have preferred a peer-reviewed journal. At minimum, a symposium. DALI I have not been peer-reviewed; I am peer-confused. My only reference is a screaming goat inside a melting pear. LINCOLN Gentlemen, I suggest we prepare for the possibility that this isn’t a rescue... it’s a test. FREUD Or a therapy session. CHURCHILL Regardless, I want hazard pay and a stronger drink. VOICE (O.S.) Assistance will arrive in approximately... (beat) ...unknown units of time. The elevator emits a hopeful ding! Everyone tenses. The doors do not open. Instead, the ceiling leaks glitter for exactly four seconds. A balloon inflates from the corner, then deflates with a sad wheeze. DALI That sound again. The music of lies. DARWIN quietly begins cataloging the species of madness forming in the corners of his mind. He names one “Elevatus irrationalis.” FREUD offers him a notepad and suggests a sketch of its mother complex. LINCOLN adjusts his hat like it’s a battle plan. CHURCHILL is now chewing his cigar with the grim focus of a man waging war against the concept of patience. DALI (CONT’D) What if we are the elevator? What if our minds are the floors, and we are merely stuck between ideas? VOICE (O.S.) Please refrain from metaphysical speculation. It affects the stabilizers. The lights flicker red. The emergency phone falls off the hook and begins playing "Chopsticks" on a loop. FREUD I need a couch. And perhaps an exorcism. CHURCHILL I need a gin and tonic. BLACKOUT Scene 4: “The Petri Dish” The lights are slightly brighter now, and the hum has lowered to a slow throb. A new wall panel slides open. Behind it is a blank, glowing screen. It flickers to life with a soft chime. A more refined, yet still synthetic voice now speaks. Cooler, more precise. VOICE (O.S.) Subjects, your cooperation is appreciated. You are part of a controlled philosophical simulation—a cosmos experiment. The goal is to observe inter-epochal cognitive conflict resolution under nonlinear stress conditions. Long silence... CHURCHILL Translation: They dropped five egos in a box and shook it like a snow globe. DARWIN Are you studying us? VOICE (O.S.) Correct. The experiment is titled Improbability: Adaptive Intellects in Confined Meta-Environments. You are Data Set 7 of 11. FREUD Oh, delightful. I’ve always wanted to be in someone else’s subconscious. DALI We are the lab rats of the gods! Let me paint this. CHURCHILL I’m not being sketched by a man who tried to seduce a coat rack. LINCOLN If you have brought us here to observe, then be plain. What are you really measuring? VOICE (O.S.) Ideological elasticity. The capacity of historically significant minds to adapt, negotiate, or deteriorate under temporal dissonance and ego compression. FREUD Did you hear that? Ego compression. They could’ve just studied you alone. CHURCHILL If compressed further, I’d be a diamond and still more useful than this elevator. DARWIN This is madness. There’s no control group. No variables. No method. VOICE (O.S.) Incorrect. Control Group 6 includes Joan of Arc, Tesla, Confucius, and Mary Shelley. They lasted thirteen minutes. FREUD Impressive cast. Terrible chemistry. DALI Joan of Arc and Tesla?! That is a romance the stars would weep for! CHURCHILL And what happens when the “experiment” is done? Do we get medals? Exit surveys? Oblivion? VOICE (O.S.) Unknown. Completion metrics vary. Termination is not inherently negative. LINCOLN So we’re not meant to escape. We’re meant to be watched. DARWIN Observed. Measured. Like finches with grander vocabularies. FREUD And under the illusion of control. Classic. DALI Then perhaps we don’t perform. Perhaps we shatter the mirror. Become... unobservable. CHURCHILL (raises an eyebrow) Are you planning to do that with interpretive dance or more invisible painting? DALI Yes. VOICE (O.S.) Subject compliance remains optional. However, deviation increases variable complexity. This is not encouraged. CHURCHILL I don’t know about the rest of you, but I intend to cheat if this is a test. LINCOLN I intend to pass. FREUD And I intend to publish. The glowing screen goes black. The panel slides shut. The elevator hum intensifies, like it’s listening. DARWIN We just became the experiment and the researchers. FREUD The observer effect. The watched always changes... but so does the watcher. DALI Then let us change them! Let us infect their precious variables with chaos! CHURCHILL Splendid. Madness with a mission. LINCOLN And if they’re still watching, what are they becoming by watching us? DARWIN Worse versions of us, perhaps. VOICE 2 (O.S.) All iterations inform the prime construct. Purpose emerges post-collapse. FREUD Now that sounds like someone trying to justify their god complex. Lights dim. The elevator pulses once, deep and slow. No one speaks. BLACKOUT Scene 5: “Let’s Break the Universe (Poorly)” Setting: The air is heavier now. Lights flicker irregularly. The hum has changed—higher pitch, almost irritated. Tension has shifted from annoyance to a shared urge to do something. DARWIN We can’t just sit here like taxidermy. If this is an experiment, it has structure. Structure can be disrupted. FREUD Ah. A rebellion against the metaphorical father. Go on. LINCOLN So what do we do? Break the machine? CHURCHILL Finally. Something I understand. DALI We are going to make art through destruction. I am aroused. DARWIN There’s circuitry in that wall. Let’s tamper with the interface, interrupt the feed, cause a feedback loop. FREUD You spent decades studying finches and now you’re hacking an interdimensional prison? DARWIN Desperation breeds creativity. Or extinction. LINCOLN Let’s try it. Everyone, help. They begin. Darwin inspects the panel. Lincoln wedges a metal pen from his coat into the edge. Churchill tries to twist part of the railing loose. Freud takes notes, of course. Dali is dancing in front of the panel, chanting in Catalan. CHURCHILL This would go faster if you helped instead of summoning Picasso’s ghost. DALI I am the ghost of Picasso. With a better mustache. DARWIN There’s a current. Weak, but steady. This panel might be reactive. FREUD Yes, yes. When in doubt, poke it until it loves you. (Lincoln gives the panel a firm bang.) The elevator screeches, a horrible metallic shriek and jolts upward a few feet. Everyone stumbles. The lights flash red. The VOICE returns, monotone but annoyed. VOICE (O.S.) Unscheduled interference detected. Behavioral deviation logged. Subjects are reminded that experiment integrity is prioritized over existential discomfort. CHURCHILL Did we move?! I felt movement! DARWIN Yes! We forced a response! FREUD The universe blinked. Mazel tov. DALI (V.O.) (arms wide) I AM THE ENGINE OF CHAOS! A burst of static. Then the elevator drops two feet. Hard. They all shout and scramble. VOICE (O.S.) Tampering penalties engaged. Please remain... ineffective. CHURCHILL I’ve had hangovers less humiliating than this. LINCOLN So much for resistance. DARWIN We affected the system! Just not... usefully. FREUD Like most human relationships. DALI Please do it again. Punish me. I deserve it. CHURCHILL You’re in charge of knocking him out if he starts licking the walls. LINCOLN Understood. They all slowly gather themselves. The elevator is still again. The hum returns, slightly louder, smug. DARWIN So... plan B? FREUD This was Plan B. Plan A was pretending to be civilized. BLACKOUT Scene 6: “Play Nice or Stay Forever” Setting: The lights have stabilized, too stabilized. They are bright, almost clinical. The hum is low and constant, like someone is watching very closely. The panel remains shut. Everyone is nursing bruises, egos, and other such issues. CHURCHILL Well, I’ve survived wars, politics, and a dinner with Stalin. But this may be the first time a box has beaten me. DARWIN It’s not a box. It’s a system. One that adapts faster than we do. FREUD The punishment was specific. Controlled. The system isn’t trying to kill us. It’s trying to train us. DALI Ah... like a gallery docent with a whip. LINCOLN We tried breaking it. It responded, not with chaos but correction, like we touched a wire, and the fence lit up. CHURCHILL What now? We bow and smile until it decides we’re house-trained? DARWIN Not house-trained. Cooperative. It wants data. Behavior under pressure. Conflict resolution. FREUD It wants to see how we adjust. If we learn. If we’re capable of... acceptance. DALI So... we pretend to be sane? CHURCHILL I’d sooner kiss a tax collector. LINCOLN You’ve been in Parliament. You’ve done worse. Brief chuckles. The tension shifts -- still sharp, but now shared. They sit or lean in silence for a beat. DARWIN Maybe we flip the approach. Lean into the experiment. Discuss. Debate. Perform intelligence. Make the data clean. FREUD Give the observers exactly what they want. A beautifully wrapped box of ideas. CHURCHILL And then what? They let us out like obedient dogs? LINCOLN Maybe. Or maybe they’re waiting to see if we stop tearing at the bars and start thinking like a team. DALI Cooperation is the new surrealism. CHURCHILL That phrase physically hurt me. FREUD Fine. We’ll play. But on our terms. VOICE (O.S.) Noted. Everyone freezes. The voice hadn’t spoken since the punishment. It sounds... pleased. CHURCHILL I hate that it’s listening. I hate that it’s like this. DARWIN Better to be listened to than ignored. Ask any naturalist. FREUD Then we perform. Honestly, dishonestly—doesn’t matter. We give it a show. LINCOLN And maybe, in the performance, we find the real way out. DALI Ah, yes. Reality, that old illusion. The lights warm slightly. The hum lowers. The elevator seems —— if only for a moment—satisfied. FREUD Let’s start with a question. CHURCHILL Fine. But if anyone quotes Nietzsche, I’m chewing through the wall. BLACKOUT Scene 7: “Revisionist Histories” Setting: The elevator dims slightly. The wall panel lights up again, pulsing. The VOICE returns—calm, clinical, but now with a hint of amusement. VOICE (O.S.) Assignment Initiated. Each subject must reconsider one major historical decision they personally enacted. Imagine a reversal. Speculate on the global, cultural, or personal consequences. Silence. Everyone exchanges glances. CHURCHILL Ah. Regret dressed up as homework. DARWIN Or the world’s most sadistic thought experiment. FREUD Fascinating. Counterfactual introspection. It’s like therapy, but with time travel. DALI YES. Finally. Let’s unravel causality like a loose thread on a divine sock. LINCOLN I'll start. The others pause. Lincoln’s tone is even, but heavy. LINCOLN I signed the Emancipation Proclamation in 1863. But I delayed it strategically. I waited until the Union had a military advantage. If I had signed it earlier... I wonder if it would have saved more lives. Or fractured the North. Or cost us the war. FREUD That’s not simple regret. That’s weight. CHURCHILL Fine. My turn. He relights his cigar, gesturing to clear the smoke. CHURCHILL Gallipoli. 1915. A damn mess. My plan, my pride. If I hadn’t pushed it... perhaps fewer coffins. But perhaps no lesson in failure. And no fire to come back stronger. Still. Bloody waste. DARWIN I waited twenty years to publish On the Origin of Species. Fear. Social backlash. The church. (beat) If I’d released it earlier... maybe science would be further along. Or maybe I'd have been discredited. (A Pause) DARWIN (CONT’D) Burned, perhaps, not by fire but by reputation. FREUD Suppression leads to neurosis. Even for science. DARWIN Yes. Thank you for that insight, Dr. Obvious. DALI My decision? To paint with precision. To reject the abstract and embrace the irrational. If I had followed convention... I would be forgotten. But the clocks would still tick in boring straight lines. And my mother would have been less disappointed. They all look at him for a long moment. CHURCHILL That was... unexpectedly honest. DALI Even clocks melt under pressure. FREUD Vienna. 1938. I fled. Nazis were coming. I escaped to London. I left many behind. If I’d stayed... I might’ve died. Or fought. Or become a martyr. But I chose survival. I still wonder, did I save psychoanalysis...or abandon it? Silence. The elevator hum softens, just slightly. The panel glows a little warmer. VOICE (O.S.) Reflection registered. Emotional resonance: elevated. Internal conflict: satisfactory. CHURCHILL Well, I’m thrilled we’ve met the emotional quota for today. LINCOLN They’re not just watching our choices. They’re watching who we are when we question them. DARWIN This isn’t a test of knowledge. It’s a test of growth. FREUD Or the illusion of it. Still... effective. DALI What a beautiful experiment. Five ghosts rewriting their obituaries. CHURCHILL Let’s hope we’re not writing our epitaphs. BLACKOUT Scene 8: “Please Hold for Oblivion” Setting: Everyone sits or leans quietly, more pensive, less hostile. The lights are steady. The hum is barely audible now, as if the system itself is bored. The panel suddenly flickers, and the VOICE returns with its usual sterile calm. VOICE (O.S.) Attention, subjects. The experiment has been temporarily suspended due to a reallocation of meta-resources. They all freeze. Finally... CHURCHILL I'm sorry, did the universe just say it's out of funding? FREUD Reallocation? That’s a euphemism. Even the cosmos has bureaucracy. DARWIN We’re not just trapped, we’re on hold. VOICE (O.S.) Correct. Please remain calm. You have been placed in a temporary stasis queue. The estimated wait time is indeterminate. LINCOLN We’re in an existential waiting room. DALI It’s perfect. We’re Schrödinger’s philosophers. Neither progressing nor perishing. A surrealist dream! CHURCHILL If this is a dream, where’s the damn scotch? FREUD So what, you just shut the lights off until someone finds more existential batteries? VOICE (O.S.) Affirmative. This pause does not reflect on the subject's performance. Please enjoy passive containment. CHURCHILL Passive. Containment. Translation: Sit still and shut up, history boys. DARWIN This may be the most insulting outcome yet. We finally start cooperating and now we’re... irrelevant? LINCOLN Progress, gentlemen, is never convenient. DALI Let’s perform stasis beautifully. I will nap in the shape of a question mark. FREUD I’ve written books less absurd than this moment. CHURCHILL You led a nation through war. What do we do now? LINCOLN Same thing you do on any battlefield when the fighting stops and the orders don’t come: Wait. Watch. And think about who you want to be when it all starts again. The elevator lights dim slightly, as if shifting to “night mode.” The hum becomes faint elevator music, a warped Muzak version of Ride of the Valkyries. DARWIN Do you hear that? FREUD Wagner. In Muzak form. Proof we’ve angered someone. CHURCHILL This is worse than the Blitz. Silence for a moment. DALI I’m beginning to enjoy it here. LINCOLN God help us. BLACKOUT Scene 9: “The Space Between” Setting: The elevator. Dim. Still. The hum is gone completely. No voice. No movement. The panel is blank. It's the longest silence they've had. They sit in different corners. For once, no one speaks. Then. DARWIN Have you ever wondered what people are doing with your work now? FREUD Every day of my afterlife. They misquote me more than they read me. CHURCHILL Better to be misquoted than forgotten. But yes, I indeed wonder. DALI They use my paintings for T-shirts. And credit me with madness I never had. LINCOLN They turn us into statues. Then blame us when the wind changes. There is a long pause, then —— DARWIN What if we’ve all been too proud? Are you too sure of what we mean and not what we caused? FREUD That’s growth. Shame it took cosmic captivity to get there. CHURCHILL I spoke to millions. I still don’t know if I said the right things. DALI Perhaps it was never about being right, but simply about being seen. LINCOLN Or being helpful to people we’d never met. Another silence. This one feels calming. DARWIN Strange, isn’t it? The most human thing we’ve done here... is listen to each other. FREUD Group therapy at the end of time. CHURCHILL Maybe that’s all history really is. People arguing with ghosts, hoping one of them left a useful sentence behind. The panel blinks. The hum returns—soft, steady. The VOICE does not speak, but something has shifted. DALI It’s coming. LINCOLN Maybe the experiment wasn’t about how we fought. But how did we stop? They all stand now. Quiet. Waiting. The elevator doesn't move, but it's clear something is different. CHURCHILL Well, boys. If this is the last room we ever sit in, I’m glad it wasn’t empty. BLACKOUT Scene 10: “Exit is a State of Mind” Setting: Still. Calm. Dim blue light. The hum is gone. Everyone sits quietly. No more tension, just stillness. Then, without warning, the VOICE returns, warmer now, almost human. VOICE (O.S.) Subjects. The experiment has concluded. They all look up. CHURCHILL Is this a trick? Or just another hold button wearing a new hat? VOICE (O.S.) No trick. No hold. Observation is complete. Data satisfactory. Conclusions reached. DARWIN Then what was the point? VOICE (O.S.) You were not chosen to escape. You were chosen because you are inescapable. Your ideas shaped what came after you. We wanted to see if you understood why. FREUD So... not what we did. But who we became when it was done. VOICE (O.S.) Correct. LINCOLN And what do you do with that kind of knowledge? VOICE (O.S.) We pass it on. As you did. A gentle chime. The elevator finally moves—but it doesn’t rise or fall. It opens. [Behind it: nothing. Not white light. Not darkness. Just open space. Timeless. Still. Peaceful.] CHURCHILL Well. That’s… annoyingly vague. DARWIN Appropriately evolutionary. Open-ended. DALI It is the canvas. And we are the brushes. The work never finishes, it only blends. FREUD Legacy is not permanence. It’s patterns. LINCOLN And progress... is not arrival. It’s motion. Choice by choice. They all look at one another. No fear now. Just clarity VOICE (O.S.) You may step through. Or stay. The choice, at last, is yours. They pause. Then slowly, one by one, they step forward DARWIN Let’s see what a new species thought looks like. FREUD I want to meet the next mind that thinks it invented thinking. CHURCHILL I expect a good chair and better whiskey if there's a bar. DALI I will teach time how to bend more beautifully. Only Lincoln remains. He looks out, then back into the elevator. Then quiet. LINCOLN The world changes slowly. But it does change if you plant the right seeds, even in strange soil. He steps through. The elevator closes. The hum returns, soft-like a heartbeat. The lights dim. One final word: VOICE (O.S.) : Improbability complete. TOTAL BLACKOUT