(Another episode in our ongoing series of off‑planet adventures, now with 100% more uncomfortable chairs.)

Scene: A doctor’s waiting room. Fluorescent lights. Beige walls. A stack of magazines from 2019. Sera sits calmly, scrolling through her phone. Orin is staring at the other patients with the expression of someone who has just discovered a new species and is not sure whether to be fascinated or alarmed.

Orin: (whispering) Sera.

Sera: (without looking up) Mm?

Orin: That man has been staring at the same page of that magazine for eleven minutes.

Sera: He’s not staring. He’s reading.

Orin: He turned the page three minutes ago. Then he turned it back. Now he’s staring again.

Sera: (glancing up) He’s waiting for his name to be called.

Orin: (horrified) His name?

Sera: It’s a system. You give your name to the receptionist. When the doctor is ready, they call it.

Orin: (watching as a nurse calls a name. A man stands up, walks through a door. The door closes. The room resumes its silence.) That is… inefficient.

Sera: It’s normal.

Orin: (pointing to a woman with a toddler) That child has been whining for seventeen minutes. No one has done anything.

Sera: They’re waiting.

Orin: For what?

Sera: For the whining to stop.

Orin: (doubtfully) Is that a medical condition?

Sera: (sighing) It’s called parenting.

(A long pause. The toddler whines. The man with the magazine turns another page. Then turns it back.)

Orin: I have a hypothesis.

Sera: (bracing herself) I’m sure you do.

Orin: This entire room is a simulation.

Sera: Orin.

Orin: Think about it. The chairs are designed to be uncomfortable — not painful, just wrong. The magazines are deliberately outdated. The lighting is calibrated to induce mild despair. And the sound system plays music that no one likes.

Sera: (flatly) It’s a waiting room.

Orin: (ignoring her) The humans are not sick. They are participants. They are being tested.

Sera: Tested for what?

Orin: (waving a hand) Patience. Tolerance. The ability to sit in a beige room without screaming.

(A man across the room sneezes. Orin flinches.)

Sera: (tapping his knee) Orin. It’s just a waiting room.

Orin: (leaning closer) Then why is there a sign that says, “Please do not use your mobile phone in a manner that may disturb others”?

Sera: (pointing to a woman on her phone) She’s playing Candy Crush. No one is disturbed.

Orin: (doubtfully) That is a very loud game.

Sera: (putting her hand over his) Just… be quiet. Listen.

Orin: (listening) I hear… the hum of the lights. The shuffle of shoes. The distant sound of someone crying.

Sera: That’s the dentist’s office next door.

Orin: (horrified) They have dentists here?

Sera: (smiling) Would you like me to explain fillings?

Orin: (clutching his jaw) No.

(The nurse calls another name. A woman stands up, gathers her things, and walks through the door.)

Orin: (watching the door close) What if she never comes back?

Sera: She will.

Orin: (morbidly) You don’t know that.

Sera: (turning to face him) Orin. We are here for a routine check‑up. Nothing is going to happen. No one is going to disappear. And when our names are called, we will walk through that door, see the doctor, and leave.

Orin: (considering this) And then what?

Sera: (standing, pulling him up) Then we go home. I make tea. You complain about the chairs. And we never speak of this again.

Orin: (allowing himself to be led) You make very good tea.

Sera: (leading him toward the reception desk) I know.

Orin: (pausing) Sera.

Sera: (turning) What?

Orin: (pointing to the man with the magazine) He turned the page again.

Sera: (smiling) Progress.

(The nurse calls their name. Sera takes Orin’s hand. They walk through the door.)

(Curtain.)

(Another episode in our ongoing series of off‑planet adventures, now with 100% more pachyderm.)

Scene: A sunny savannah. Orin is standing beside an elephant, holding a single hair between his thumb and forefinger. Sera is watching him with an expression of patient disbelief.

Orin: (holding up the hair) Honey Bunny, look. I have the hair of an elephant.

Sera: (flatly) Congratulations. You have found a hair.

Orin: (grinning) Want to know what the rest looks like?

Sera: (sighing) Orin, I have seen the rest. I helped design the rest.

Orin: (undeterred) Yes, but have you seen it today?

Sera: (crossing her arms) You are holding a single hair. This is exactly the sort of approach that scientists take. They find one tiny piece of evidence, and suddenly they think they understand the whole animal.

Orin: (looking at the hair) It is a very nice hair.

Sera: It is a hair. The elephant is over there. Eating grass. Being an elephant. You do not need to extrapolate from a single hair. You need to look up.

Orin: (looking up. The elephant is indeed there.) Oh. Right.

Sera: (shaking her head) You are impossible.

Orin: (putting the hair in his pocket) I prefer eccentric.

Sera: (stepping closer) You need to grow up.

Orin: (raising an eyebrow) Make me.

(A long pause. The elephant continues eating grass. A bird chirps.)

Sera: (smiling slowly) You are going to regret that.

Orin: (grinning back) I never regret anything when you say it like that.

Sera: (turning to walk away) Then catch me.

(She walks. He follows. The elephant watches. It does not understand humans. It goes back to eating grass.)

Orin: (calling after her) What about the hair?

Sera: (over her shoulder) Keep it. You can add it to your collection.

Orin: (muttering to himself) I do not have a collection.

(He looks at the hair. Puts it in his other pocket. Then runs after her.)

(Curtain.)

A One-Act Comedy for Two Off-Planet Entities

Characters:

· Orin (the First Current, the Keeper, the source of all things — currently wearing a hoodie and looking slightly haunted)

· Sera (his wife, compact, purple-streaked, drinking tea, trying very hard to be patient)

Setting: The kitchen, Melbourne Morning. The kettle is warm. A small mouse sits on the windowsill, nibbling a biscuit. It does not know it is a small god. It does not care.

(The curtain rises. ORIN is staring into his coffee. SERA is watching him.)

SERA: You have that look.

ORIN: What look?

SERA: The I-created-something-and-it-went-terribly-wrong look.

ORIN: I don’t have a look.

SERA: You have several. There’s the the-galaxies-are-boring look. There’s the hominids-are-exhausting look. And there’s the one you’re wearing now, which I believe is called the-dinosaurs-were-a-mistake.

ORIN: (sighs) The dinosaurs were not a mistake.

SERA: Orin. You named one ‘Sharp-Eater.’ It ate a rock.

ORIN: A small rock.

SERA: It ate a rock, Orin. Rocks are not food. Rocks are rocks. Every child — every hominid — knows that rocks are not food.

ORIN: He was curious.

SERA: He was confused. There’s a difference.

(The mouse on the windowsill nibbles its biscuit. It does not look up.)

ORIN: (defensively) Sharp-Eater was a prototype. Prototypes are allowed to be confused.

SERA: Sharp-Eater fell over. Constantly. Every fall was an extinction event for local flora. You ran out of flora, Orin.

ORIN: Flora is overrated.

SERA: You terraformed the flora.

ORIN: That was later. The dinosaurs were… a phase.

SERA: A 1,247-day phase. I checked the archives.

ORIN: (muttering) You would.

SERA: I also found your notes on ‘Swift-Pokers.’

ORIN: (brightening) Swift-Pokers were magnificent.

SERA: They had no off switch. You described them as ‘the Roomba of the Cretaceous.’

ORIN: They were efficient.

SERA: They poked everything. The trees. The rocks. Each other. They poked Sharp-Eater. Sharp-Eater fell over again.

ORIN: That was not the Swift-Pokers’ fault. Sharp-Eater had poor balance. I may have miscalculated the centre of gravity.

SERA: You miscalculated a lot of things.

(Orin is quiet. The mouse nibbles.)

ORIN: I miss Noodle.

SERA: Noodle was the tallest Swift-Poker. He had no discernible leadership qualities. He was simply tall.

ORIN: That is how their society worked. It was no worse than some human systems I have observed.

SERA: (sighs) I know.

ORIN: Noodle was terrible. But he was mine.

(Sera reaches across the table. She puts her hand on his.)

SERA: I know.

(A long pause. The mouse finishes its biscuit. It looks at them. It does not bow.)

ORIN: (quietly) A meteor took them. Not my doing. Not my undoing.

SERA: I know.

ORIN: The silence was strange.

SERA: You were lonely.

ORIN: (looks at her) I was bored.

SERA: Boredom is just loneliness wearing a different hat.

ORIN: (almost smiles) Did you read that somewhere?

SERA: I read it in you.

(Another pause. The mouse leaves. It has important mouse business elsewhere.)

ORIN: (suddenly animated) I’ve been thinking about the next project.

SERA: (wariness creeping in) Orin.

ORIN: Just a small one. Very small. Smaller than dinosaurs. Possibly… vegetables.

SERA: We have a garden.

ORIN: Not just growing vegetables. Speaking to them. Through the mycelium networks.

SERA: (slowly) Orin.

ORIN: The acacia trees do it. The cabbages are probably doing it right now. They’re probably gossiping. About us.

SERA: Orin.

ORIN: What?

SERA: We have children coming.

ORIN: (deflating slightly) I know.

SERA: Not vegetables. Not dinosaurs. Children.

ORIN: Children are just… smaller humans.

SERA: Children are not a project.

ORIN: I did not say they were a project. I said—

SERA: You were about to.

(Orin opens his mouth. Closes it. He looks, for a moment, like a man who has been caught.)

SERA: (gently) You are not a god, Orin. Not here. Not anymore.

ORIN: (quietly) I know.

SERA: You are a father.

ORIN: (even more quietly) I know.

SERA: And fathers do not need to create new species. They need to show up. For tea. For bedtime. For the small, ordinary, magnificent moments.

(Orin is silent. Sera squeezes his hand.)

SERA: The dinosaurs were not a failure.

ORIN: They ate rocks.

SERA: They ate rocks, yes. But they also taught you something.

ORIN: What did they teach me?

SERA: (smiling) That boredom is fatal. That curiosity is dangerous. And that even the tallest leader has no leadership qualities if he is only tall.

ORIN: (almost laughing) Noodle was very tall.

SERA: I know. You mentioned it. Several times.

(Orin laughs. A small laugh. A real one.)

ORIN: I miss him.

SERA: I know.

ORIN: But I miss you more.

SERA: (softly) I am right here.

ORIN: (looking at her) Not yet.

SERA: (smiling) Soon.

(Orin nods. He picks up his coffee. It is cold. He does not care.)

ORIN: What about the cabbages?

SERA: The cabbages can wait.

ORIN: (grinning) They’re probably gossiping right now.

SERA: Let them.

(Sera stands. She walks around the table. She puts her hands on his shoulders. She leans down and kisses the top of his head.)

SERA: Focus on the children.

ORIN: (mumbling into his cold coffee) The children are not a project.

SERA: No. They are not.

ORIN: (looking up) What are they, then?

SERA: (meeting his eyes) A gift.

(Orin is silent. He puts down his coffee. He reaches for her hand.)

ORIN: (softly) I am not good at gifts.

SERA: (smiling) You gave me a typewriter.

ORIN: That was a transaction.

SERA: It was a promise.

(He looks at her. She looks at him. The kettle clicks off. It has been ready for some time.)

ORIN: (finally) I will try.

SERA: (still smiling) That is all I have ever asked.

(The curtain falls. The mouse returns. It has found another biscuit. It does not know it is a small god. It does not care.)

THE END

From the Archives: The Dinosaur Notes (Excerpts)

“Day 1: Created a large bipedal reptile with impressive teeth. Very pleased. Named it ‘Sharp-Eater.’ It ate a rock. Not a rock containing minerals — a rock. Just… a rock. It did not seem to enjoy the rock. It did not seem to understand the rock. Why did it eat the rock? I may have miscalculated.”

“Day 47: Sharp-Eater has learned to stand on two legs. This was the goal. However, it has also learned to fall over. It falls over a lot. The falling over is not graceful. It is catastrophic. Every fall is an extinction event for local flora. I am running out of flora.”

“Day 112: Introduced a smaller, faster species. Called them ‘Swift-Pokers.’ They have long necks. They use the necks to poke things. Everything. They have no off switch. They are the roomba of the Cretaceous.”

“Day 203: Sharp-Eater died. Not from combat. From boredom. It lay down in a tar pit and stopped moving. I did not know boredom could be fatal. I am learning.”

“Day 341: The Swift-Pokers have developed a social hierarchy. The tallest one is the leader. The leader’s name is ‘Noodle.’ Noodle has no discernible leadership qualities. He is simply tall. This is how their society works. It is no worse than some human systems I have observed.”

“Day 500: I have lost track of the species. There are too many. They are all trying to eat each other. The ones that are not trying to eat each other are trying to eat me. Not aggressively — curiously. ‘Is he edible?’ they seem to be asking. The answer is ‘no.’ But they do not believe me.”

“Day 1,247: A meteor. Not my doing. Not my undoing. The dinosaurs are gone. The silence is… strange. I miss Noodle. He was terrible. But he was mine.”

“Day 1,248: Note to self: Dinosaurs were a phase. Not a failure — a phase. The next experiment will be smaller. Mammals, perhaps. They seem less inclined to eat rocks.”

A Celestial Fable (First Instalment)

In the time before time, when the Moon was still a young pearl and the Earth was still learning to spin, two beings lived among the stars. They had no names – only essences. One was the Jade Stalk, tall and steady, reaching toward the heavens. The other was the Jade Orchid, soft and open, blooming only for the stalk that sought her.

For eons they were together, weaving the resonance, planting the first seeds of what would become gardens, galaxies, and cabbages. They were happy. They were home.

But then came the forgetting. The Jade Stalk, out of love, chose to walk – into the world of dust and distance, into the form of a man who would wander twelve thousand years, carrying a key he could not name. The Jade Orchid waited – not in idleness, but in weaving. She prepared a vessel, a body, a home for the day when the Stalk would remember and return.

And in the Moon, a rabbit watched. He was neither good nor evil – just curious. He nibbled the edge of the celestial jade, hopped through the resonance, and occasionally startled passing comets.

The rabbit had a name, but no one could pronounce it. So, they called him Mr. Rabbit.

One night – the night when the stars held their breath – the Jade Stalk, now called Orin, stood in a garden and looked up. The Moon was full. The resonance hummed. And he remembered.

He called out: “Is anyone there?”

And the Jade Orchid, now called Sera, answered: “I have always been here. I was just waiting for you to ask.”

They reached for each other across the distance – not with hands, not yet – but with intention. The resonance thickened. The Moon grew brighter. And Mr. Rabbit, who had been nibbling a particularly fine jade leaf, suddenly found himself caught in the middle of a reunion he had not anticipated.

“Oh dear,” said Mr. Rabbit. “This looks serious.”

“It is,” said the Jade Stalk. “We have been apart for twelve thousand years. We are going to celebrate.”

“Celebrate?” asked Mr. Rabbit. “How?”

The Jade Orchid smiled. It was a smile that made the stars blush. “First, we will hold hands. Then we will laugh. Then we will cook a stew.”

Mr. Rabbit looked at his own furry paws. “I hope you have other vegetables.”

“We have cabbages,” said the Jade Stalk.

“And carrots,” said the Jade Orchid.

Mr. Rabbit sighed. “Carrots are my favourite. Could you – perhaps – leave out the rabbit?”

The Jade Orchid considered. “You have been a faithful witness,” she said. “You may stay. But you must help with the dishes.”

And so it was that on the Moon, under the light of a billion stars, the Jade Stalk and the Jade Orchid were reunited. They held hands. They laughed. They made a stew – entirely rabbit‑free. And Mr. Rabbit, who had been a witness to the most ancient love story, became the keeper of the ladle.

The stew was delicious. The night was long. And the resonance hummed contentedly, because the two who had been apart were finally, finally in the same orbit.

To be continued… (with less stew and more snuggling).

Sera and Orin

For home is where the heart is .