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to: www.finegankruckemeyer.com

The Boy at the Edge of Everything

Written by
Finegan Kruckemeyer

Recipient of the
2015 David Williamson Prize for Excellence in Australian Playwrighting
2015 Australian Writers Guild (AWGIE) Award: Best Play for Children
2014 Seattle Times Footlight Award: Best Children’s Show (‘Fab Family Fare’)
2017 New England Theatre Festival regional and state winners

First produced by
Trusty Sidekick Theater Company
and Seattle Children’s Theatre

First directed and dramaturged by

Jonathan Shmidt Chapman

© Finegan Kruckemeyer, 2014

www.finegankruckemeyer.com
Adelaide, South Australia
Original Production
The first production of The Boy at the Edge of Everything took place in Seattle, USA in
March 2014 as produced by Trusty Sidekick Theater Company and Seattle Children’s
Theatre. The cast was as follows:

THE BOY AT THE EDGE Quinn Armstrong

SIMON IVES Trick Danneker
MOM/CHLOE/MS CHESTER Carol Roscoe
DAD/MICHAEL Evan Whitfield
LOUIE/ARTIE Ben Burris

The play was directed and dramaturged by Jonathan Shmidt Chapman, and designed by
Carey Wong (Scenic), Nannette Acosta (Costume), Andrew Smith (Lighting) and Chris
Walker (Sound), with stage management by Bret Torbeck, and production assistance by
Becca Howlett.

Previous Developments
2012 New Vision New Voices (Kennedy Center for the Arts, Washington DC)
2012 Launch artist residency programme (Playhouse Square, Cleveland OH)
2012-13 LabWorks residency (New Victory Theater, New York NY)
2013 DNA New Works Festival workshop (La Jolla Theater, San Diego CA)

Subsequent Productions
29 seasons in three countries (USA, Canada and Australia)

2021: USA: Eureka College, Eureka IL

Australia: St Leonards College, Vic

2020 USA: TYA USA Virtual Festival and Conference (Trusty Sidekick)
USA: Childrens Theatre of Charlotte, NC
USA: BurkTech Players, Lubbock TX
USA: Des Moines Young Artists Theatre, Des Moines IA

2019 USA: Giving Tree Theater, Marion IA

USA: Roanoke Children’s Theatre, Roanoke VA
USA: Andover High School, Boston MA (METG Theatre Comp)
USA: BB&N Middle School, Cambridge MA

The Boy at the Edge of Everything © Finegan Kruckemeyer, 2014 2

USA: McDougle Middle School, Chapel Hill NC
Australia: Browns Mart Theatre Company, Darwin NT
Australia: St James College, Victoria

2018 USA: East Michigan University, MI

USA: Theatre of Youth, Buffalo NY
USA: Boston Latin School, Boston MA (METG Theatre Comp)
USA: Lansing High School, Lansing KS

2017 USA: Essex High School, VT

(New England Theatre Festival regional and state winners)

2016 USA: Lincoln Center for the Arts, New York NY

USA: Chance Theater, Anaheim CA
USA: Magik Theatre, San Antonio TX
Canada: Storybook Theatre, Calgary AB

2015 USA: Lincoln Center Summer Forum, New York NY

USA: Long Wharf Theater, New Haven CT
Australia: Melbourne Theatre Company, Vic

2014 USA: Nova Theater, Billings MT

USA: Purple Crayon Players, Northwestern Uni, Evanston IL
USA: Emerson College, Boston MA

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Prologue

7.3 billion people exist on a small blue and green planet. Four and a half million people
exist in a city. 12,000 people exist in a neighbourhood. 80 people exist on an early-
morning street. One person – a boy called Simon Ives – he stands at a bus stop. 7.3
billion different thoughts exist in his super full brain.

Suddenly, a strong gust of wind hits him, a blown newspaper catches on his leg, and the
whistling sound of a falling object is heard, getting closer and louder. He looks up and
jumps aside, a pair of binoculars dropping from the sky and landing where he stood. He
stares at them, confused. Beat.

The new kid Colin Gillespie arrives.

Colin: Hey.

Simon: Hey… Colin Gillespie.

Simon points at the binoculars. Colin nods. Beat.

Three more children rush in, a bus pulls up and all clamber on. Simon narrates, as chaos
surrounds and he is jostled relentlessly.

Simon: When kids ride together at the start of a way too full school day – where I
have to do about a million things, in about 400 minutes, which is about six
and a half hours, which is about the half the time it’ll take – different ones do
different things.

Michael Haynes (who has way more facial hair than a kid his age should)
takes shots punching the new kid Colin Gillespie in the arm to make him
flinch.

After a couple of silent hits…

Colin: Ow! [Beat] Didn’t feel it.

Michael: …You just said Ow.

Colin: I was imagining what it would have felt like if I had felt it – which I didn’t.

Simon: Artie Monroe forces a headphone on me and plays some song he likes.

Artie: ‘we are the Champions… We are ha-huhh-huhh. No Tiny Losers! ‘Cause we/

Simon: /‘Tiny losers’?

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Artie: Huh? Small losers, yeah – they’re weird.

Simon: I don’t think that’s the lyri/ [He is hit by Michael] Ow! I’m not even playing!

Michael: Your arm is. Flinched.

Simon: Chloe Denunzio shows me a car magazine and imagines…

Chloe: …one day attaching the spoiler from a Plymouth Superbird to the chassis of a
Porsche 930 Turbo! Sa-weet.

Simon: And I, Simon Ives, take a deep breath.

Silence. Colin is punched.

Colin: Ow!

***

The five stand on a soccer-field, forming a wall. Simon narrates.

Simon: And when kids stand on a soccer-field – in the early hours of a Saturday
morning, after you’ve already mowed the lawn, and helped Dad with the
crossword (whether you want to or not), and practiced Chinese vowel sounds
for your second language class – with loud parents cheering from the
sidelines, and a big guy from Eighth Grade about to take a free kick, different
ones do different things.

The new kid Colin Gillespie struggles to decide whether to protect his face or
his privates… So he does both.

Colin: …Can’t see.

Simon: Artie Monroe blows a kiss to Alissa Martin, who has long flowy hair and
knows more about horses than anyone in the world ever.

Artie: Guys. Hey guys. Maybe… carry me on your shoulders, yeah? Like I’m a… a
sports hero guy.

Chloe: But… you’re not.

Artie: Whatever. And make sure Alissa sees! If I just get up here and… [He begins
climbing onto the others, who resist]

Simon: That’s my/

Chloe: /What are you doing!?/

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Michael: /Get off me!
Colin: /[Still covering eyes] What’s that? Who’s there… Is that a… ow!

Artie: [Balanced precariously on others] Hey Alissa! Alissa Martin! Look at me –

I’m getting carried, yeah. This game’s for you, Alissa Mar/

He falls, landing awkwardly.

Chloe: That’s so lame (…would you go out with me?)

Artie: Horses rule!

Simon: Michael Haynes tries to psych out the kid taking the kick.

Michael: What’s the matter, slow-stuff? Gonna take all day to kick the ball or what? I
could have got, like, twenty goals by now! Do you want me to take it? Is that
what you want? ‘Cause I’m happy to – if that’s what you want. So is it? Just
give me the word, slow-stuff. Give me the word…

Simon: Chloe Denunzio blows hair out of her eyes and considers kicking Michael
Haynes in the knee so he’ll/

Chloe: /Shut up already.

Simon: And I, Simon Ives, take a deep breath – and hold it a while.

Michael: You’re probably the worst free kicker I’ve ever see/

Colin (unaware behind protective hands) is hit by the ball.

Colin: Ow!

***

Simon, his parents and little brother Louie sit around a dinner table. Simon narrates.

Simon: And when it’s dinner on a Thursday night, and you’re tired after the most
massive day ever – full of Math Club and spelling tests and handball battles –
and the smell of Dad’s lasagne hangs in the air/

Dad: /Douglas Ives’ world famous lasagne. Voila!

Simon: And a song by some Irish lady Dad likes floats in from the next room, and
everyone in my family is doing exactly what my family does best, which is
‘talking-at-onceing’…

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All begin. A cacophony of voices. Simon shouts over them.

Simon: Which they’re so good at and could definitely win a gold medal for, if they
had medals for that kind of thing, which they don’t (luckily)… different ones
do different things.

Dad tries telling a joke he heard at the botanic gardens where he works.

Dad: And then the vampire says to the swim team/

Mom: /Is this the vampire joke?

Dad: Yeah. So the vampire says/

Mom: /You can’t tell them the vampire joke.

Dad: Yes I can. So the vampire says ‘well how about I’… oh no, you’re right. I
can’t tell them that.

Mom: No.

Dad: No.

Louie: What’s the vampire say, Dad?

Mom: Yeah… what does the vampire say, Dad?

Dad: …Nothing. I can’t remember. He… flies away and… that’s the end.

Louie: …Pretty much the worst joke I ever heard.

Simon: Mom (who’s studying for her fifth degree and has so many letters after her
name it’s like a new name on top of the already there one) separates all the
different layers of lasagne onto different parts of the plate, so none of them
are touching.

Dad: It’s so odd how you do that.

Simon: And my brother Louie does the same.

Louie: I don’t think it’s odd.

Mother and son share a conspiratorial smile.

Simon: And I, Simon Ives – aged twelve years and four months and ten days, not
counting leap years (which I don’t) – I sit in the middle of everything and feel

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overwhelmed. During music practice on Wednesday, and soccer on Saturday,
and in the middle of Monday swim class, and at Tuesday tae kwon do. And
all the way through homework every evening (which is crazy anyway, ‘cause
when you’re twelve the words home and work shouldn’t even go together).
And around the super loud dinner table with Mom and Dad and Louie. And
all through the million and one things that are my big, massive, too full,
twelve and a bit year old life.

I take a deep breath… and try to feel calm.

Beat. Simon extends his arms while exhaling and knocks over his glass – the table
explodes in very uncalm uproar.

Mom: /Every time, Simon!/

Dad: /What is wrong with your son!/
Louie: /I told you! I told you he would, dad! You owe me a dollar! I so told you!

Beat.

Simon: …Sorry.

Scene One

Simon and his classmates are back at school.

Simon: The next day I’m in science. And I’m trying to remember the periodic table,
and forget a frog dissection, all at the same time – which is hard for a brain to
do: remember-forgetting. And different ones do different things.

Michael Haynes studies his hands and tries to work out if they’re girl hands,
‘cause that’s what his big sister Meghan said to him when they were arguing.
And even though it was almost three months ago, he can’t shake it.

Chloe Denunzio watches the back of Artie Monroe’s head and wonders why
he said no when she told him he had to invite her to the end of year dance, or
he was dead meat. And wonders if it’s rude to egg his house if he doesn’t
change his mind and say yes.

The new kid Colin Gillespie writes heaps of notes, because he really likes
science and will one day grow up to write the definitive 21 st century paper on
particle acceleration.

…And Artie Monroe thinks about girls.

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Artie: [Giggles to himself, bashful] No you stop, Alissa…

Chloe: Ugh – gross. (I so wanna marry you)

Simon: I… am sitting here, and thinking of all the things I have to remember: Like
how my inhaler needs changing. And how I’ve got to practice the La
Cucaracha song for the school concert. And how there’s a Home Ec project
due where we’ve got to make a cake that represents how we feel – and how
that’s dumb. And how I should really spend more time bike riding with
Louie. And just all the stuff that makes my head feel like a diary that’s run
out of pages.

And then Ms Chester – who was in the paper last year for eating 30 tacos in
15 minutes at the Annual Community Party, and then got sick in the toilets
for like twenty hours – she says:

Simon looks bored. Ms Chester is seen or alluded to. As she talks, he becomes interested.

Ms C: And when you look up at the night sky, students, the greatest mistake you can
make is to think that everything is still. Yes – the stars look still, laid out in
the sky like that. And around them is just blackness that seems to go on
forever and forever, and that’s the universe. That’s us seeing a tiny little bit of
a giant, giant, giant universe. And it all looks very still too. But…

The trick is, that the universe… is like you, students. It is a thing that already
has a lot of potential, and a lot of energy, and is already quite impressive.
And: it is growing! It is growing like you. It’s becoming bigger and bigger,
and bigger and bigger, and not stopping. Never stopping.

The Universe is extending out, to places not even it has been before!

The bell goes and all others launch into action – but Simon is transfixed.

Simon: And before Ms Chester said that…

I thought that Space, was just space. Like, if there’s a star there and a star
there, then between it is space – just a bit that hasn’t been filled yet. Like in
our closet where the sleeping bags used to be, but Mom threw them all out
‘cause Louie got head-lice in one – only we couldn’t remember which one.

And I got to thinking about how, if there really are places the Universe hasn’t
been yet, then there must be an edge – a place at the Edge of… Everything.
And maybe it’d be possible one day for humans to go there (for this human,
say). To travel somewhere far, far away, and just… stop.

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And just be calm, and quiet, and a bit bored maybe – with no swimming or
music practicing or taekwondoing. And for the first time in what feels like
ever just… do nothing. Just exist there, all by yourself, and let the Universe
grow in front of you – while you just sit, and… be.

Scene Two

A perspective shift. A distant boy sits in his house at the very edge of the known universe.
The Boy is played by the actor playing Colin Gillespie. His world is the physical
evocation of a Sigur Rós song.

The Boy: In a place far, far away – beyond all that there is, beyond even all that there
isn’t – The Boy at the Edge of Everything sits and… be’s. His house balances
just perfectly, right on the edge of the universe. Like, if you sit on this side of
the roof and stare out, there it is – there’s everything. And if you sit on the
other side – nothing. Not even darkness (‘cause that’s a thing), or silence
(‘cause that’s a thing too). Just… nothing at all. Just things that haven’t been
invented yet… not being invented.

He’s so far away that if you took the strongest telescope in the whole world
and looked at the furthest thing it can see. And then you went to that place,
with the telescope, and set it up again, and looked for the next furthest place,
and went there. And then did that over and over, about 20 million times…
The Boy was further than that. That’s only about halfway to where he was.

The Boy has lived in this House at the Edge of Everything for a long time –
for as long as the universe at least (he can remember when it was just born,
and still has some black-and-white baby photos of it in a drawer somewhere).
He has nothing to do – and all the space of a Universe, and all the time of
Forever, to do nothing in. His life is just calm, and quiet, and a bit bored
maybe…

A moment of shared contemplation.

The Boy: And so I invent/

Simon: /And so I invent…

The Boy: …Activities, to keep me busy.

Simon: …Activities, to keep me relaxed.

The Boy: I spend a little time – a century or so – counting space volcanoes.

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Simon: I spend a lonnnnnnnng time – two hours or so – doing English tests. But I
don’t hand them up straight away. Instead I sit for a bit, imagining where the
characters wander off to after they leave my story behind.

The Boy: I read all the books in my crowded library – and then get to the last page, and
start over.

Simon: I read all the faces of people on my crowded bus – and guess the kind of lives
they have.

The Boy: I teach myself to knit and sew and embroider and darn, and hunt and paint
and swim and play guitar and cello and violin. And play some other
instruments from some other planets that you don’t even know about – like
the Chehhhurnu (which has lots of buttons and sounds like water being
emptied from a bathtub). And the Hasss-je-xe-xe (which makes a noise you
can’t really hear, but that settles on your shoulders, and makes you feel warm
and hungry, all at once).

Simon: I teach myself to do what Mom and Dad say, and: always try to find a minute
for myself, between all the everyone-else-minutes.

And sitting at dinner, in the middle of all the craziness…

The Boy: And sitting on my roof, at the Edge of all the Nothingness…

Simon: I sometimes wish for…

The Boy: I sometimes wish for…

Both: …The opposite.

Simon: The exact opposite of my life. Where no one would need me to do anything.

The Boy: …Where someone would need me, to do something.

Beat.

The Boy: If I sit on one side of my roof, I stare into the Nothing – and Nothing stares
back. That’s strange. But if I sit on the other side, I stare out into the
Everything – and that’s perfect. I watch the planets far away, and see the
millions of different lives being lived on them. I don’t visit them though. I…
[Beat] The Boy’s never really been much good at that stuff, see.

And anyway, lately I’ve been… lately The Boy’s been less worried about
going to places, and more worried about places coming to him. Because he’s
noticed that the Universe… seems to be expanding – seems to be slowly

The Boy at the Edge of Everything © Finegan Kruckemeyer, 2014 11

travelling out. So that one day, a bit of it might get here. And he’s spent so
long being The Boy at the Edge of Everything, he’s not sure he could handle
being The Boy in the Middle of Stuff.

So now every time I’m on my roof, I find myself staring down (the same way
boys on that little blue and green planet might stare up) and feeling a little bit
worried…

And wondering if there’s anyone down there – down in that Universe – who
feels a bit worried too.

Scene Three

Simon sits at the table with Mom, Dad and Louie. All are talking.

Simon: I feel a bit worried.

Beat. The focus turns to Simon.

Mom: Why’s that, Simon? Homework problems?

Simon: No, not that. It’s/

Mom: /Social problems – you having problems with your friends? Not enough
friends? Not the right friends? Have you got the wrong friends, Simon?

Simon: It’s not… My friends are fine. It’s/

Mom: /Sport problems – because you always get those asthma attacks and have to
go off halfway through the match and disappoint everyone?

Simon: No it’s n/ What do you mean disappoint? Who’s disappointed?

Mom: No one! I’m definitely not!

Dad: Me neither! We’re not at all disappointed!

Mom: No.

Dad: No.

Louie: …I am.

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Dad: Ah! [Nods sagely] Simon Ives, I think I know what’s going on here. Your
mom won’t get it. You want to tell your dad – man to man?

Simon: …Okay. I’ve been a bit worried about the univ/

Dad: /Girls.

Mom/Louie: Ohhhhh…

Simon: What? No. I’m not worried about… girls.

Louie: He so is.

Mom: You so are.

Simon: I so am not! I’ve been thinking about how the unive/

Dad: /What’s her name, son?

Simon: She doesn’t have a name! She doesn’t exist! I’m not interested in any/

Louie: /It’s Chloe Denunzio! It’s definitely her, Dad! I saw them holding hands near
the basketball courts yesterday!

Simon: She was trying to break my arm ‘cause I didn’t give her my lunch money!
You don’t even know what you’re talki/

Louie: /You so love her.

Mom: You so do.

Simon: Mom! Why are you getting inv/

Mom: /Okay, sorry… [To Louie] He so does.

Simon: Stop! It’s not about sport problems – or social problems. Or girl problems.

Mom and Louie nod at each other.

Simon: It’s about Space.

Dad: …What? Personal space? You want a bigger room – because you’re nearly a
teenager, and… oh! Is this about/

Simon: /No! What… ever you’re about to say, no it’s not about that – whatever that
is – I don’t even want to know what that is, but… it isn’t that.

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I am talking about Space space – up there Space. The universe, and how it’s
expanding and stuff, like Ms Chester said/

Mom: /Ms Chester who was sick in the toile/

Simon: /Yes. And it got me thinking about… what else is out there? Like, are there
parts – way, way out – that are just… calm? Places where someone can just
have… all the Time in all the History of the Universe and just… be.

Beat.

Dad: So not girls?

Simon: Space! I am talking about Space, Dad.

Dad: Okay, just checking. So what you’re saying is… my eldest son, Simon Ives,
wants to be… an astronaut!?

Simon: Um… I don’t know – maybe. I don’t even really need to travel there. I’m just
wondering about/

Dad: /My son the astronaut! Hey? Our son, Helen – our son wants to do great
things, amazing things.

Louie: So do I.

Dad: You want to ride down big hills on bikes, Louie.

Louie: ‘Scuse me, but I am only eight, dad! When you’re eight, riding down big hills
on bikes is the most amazing thing (Gimme a break).

Mom: Well I say… [She leaps up from the table] …We are starting this now.

Simon: What?

Mom: Doug, get the toolbox! Louie, get your colouring pencils! We are giving
Simon Ives the Future Astronaut… a taste of Space!

All jump up from the table, Simon knocking over his glass. All chastise but continue on.

Simon: And this is when things get really dangerous.

Scene Four

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The Boy exists in his world, agitated.

The Boy: The Boy at the Edge of Everything is bored! He’s just finished building a
model train set that goes out the window and runs through three galaxies. It’s
great – but he’s bored!

He’s been practicing three new alien languages – he’s very good at two of
them, but the other one can only really be spoken well by someone with eight
mouths. And he’s only got one. The Boy is bored! As bored as only someone
with all the Time in all the History of the Universe can be.

And he’s worried too… He’s worried about these things that feel like they’re
getting closer, that might one day scale his lovely white fence – like a cat
seeking a patch on the sunny lawn, or an ‘overbearing neighbour who wants
to talk about football’ (like the one in my book on Human Interactive Social
Etiquette 101).

The Boy scans for anything out of the ordinary – with eyes that can spot an
ant on a footpath many light-years away, and ears so well-tuned they can hear
a word you’re just about to say but… haven’t yet. He peers deep into the
Universe with these eyes, and those ears. And he sees something strange.

Scene Five

Simon exists in his world, unsure.

Simon: …I feel strange.

Mom: You look fantastic – like an Astronaut!

Dad: A Spaceman!

Louie: An idiot.

Mom: Now let me check the plans for your Space Capsule…

Simon: The thing Mom’s calling her plans, are some drawings Louie and Dad and her
just did on the back of an old cereal box. And the thing she’s calling a Space
Capsule is actually one of those isolation tanks, which you fill with salt water
and use for meditation when you’re a parent going through your
transcendental Vishnu yoga phase. Except now it’s been sitting in the shed for
about three years because eventually that phase ends and no one wants it in
the house anymore.

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It’s got spiders in it, Mom!

Mom: [Ignoring him while reading her plan] That’s good, dear…

Simon: And now it’s not filled with salt water. It’s filled with a 12-and-a-bit year old
boy who’s me, and who my parents want to give an:

Mom: Authentic space experience!

Simon: Because they’re pretty great, in a weird way. And Dad’s dressed me up in his
volunteer community fireman’s uniform…

Dad: It’s exactly like a real space suit!

Simon: …Which is nothing like a real space suit, and a lot more like a volunteer
community fireman’s uniform. And the helmet is an antique diver’s one that
Dad bought at a fair once.

This smells funny!

Louie: That’s ‘cause I sometimes keep tadpoles in it.

Simon: Gross!

Louie: Careful in case I forgot any, ‘cause then one could swim up your nose and
into your head and then you’d grow a frog in your brain and die… Brain-
frog-death it’s called.

Simon: That’s not a real thing, Louie! …Is it, Mom?

Mom: [Preoccupied] Absolutely, dear.

Simon: And all that stuff isn’t actually too bad, and is kind of fun ‘cause it is cool
imagining what space travel would be like. Except:

What exactly am I doing on the shed roof?

Dad: Ah! That was my part of the plan, son. When real astronauts head into Space,
you see, they experience a burst of G Force, which I’ve heard is very
exhilarating. And because we can’t really make you fly…

We’re going to pull your Capsule backwards off the shed!

Simon: What!?

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The door is slammed shut on him and muffled protests are heard.

Mom: It’s okay, honey. Your father attached seatbelts, and Louie and I set up the
hay bales we use for mulching the garden. So you’ll feel a great rush of force.

Dad: Exhilarating!

Mom: And then land safely! Brilliant.

Louie: [Beat] I moved all the bales.

More screams of protest are heard from within the tank.

Mom: He’s just joking, honey.

…Are you joking, Louie?

Louie: Can’t remember.

Dad takes a long rope at the back of the tank and, with Mom and Louie, prepares to pull.

Dad: Okay, my brave little man! This is your first taste of Space Travel. Buckle up
and get ready to create a formative memory for what will in years to come be
the actual, real-deal ride of your life! And blast-off in three, and two, and o/

The sound of a great explosion. Ambiguity as to what has happened.

The Boy: And that’s when the strange bit happens.

Scene Six

The Boy: It all occurs very quickly. The capsule-tank thing that the boy in the strange
outfit sits inside, starts to tip backwards as the three other people heave on the
very long rope. When suddenly the little boy says…

Louie: What’s that sound?

Dad: And then everyone begins hearing these popping noises, which sound kind of
like fireworks.

Mom: And the main reason for that is… they are fireworks. Lots and lots of
fireworks which we bought last year at Mr Donner’s huge garage sale at
Number 16 before he retired to Florida. And at the time I said:

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What are we going to do with lots and lots of fireworks, Doug? And you said:

Dad: We’ll think of something. And… then I put them in the shed.

Mom: And forgot about them.

Dad: And forgot about them. Until today, when the friction from a too heavy thing
on the roof, makes the sheets of corrugated iron scrape together. Which
makes small sparks fly. Which makes the fuse of a firework ignite. Which
makes Louie say:

Louie: What’s that sound? And then suddenly that sound is nothing, compared to the
next sound, which is called: The Sound of our Entire Shed Exploding and My
Big Brother Flying into the Air While Sitting in a Meditation Tank.

…I can’t do it, but it’s really loud.

Mom: The surprise made us drop the rope, and it soared into the sky… attached to…

Dad: He soared into the sky and…

The Boy: The Capsule soars into the sky – leaving the other three humans all…

Mom: …staring…

Dad: …up.

Silence.

Louie: Woah.

Scene Seven

The Boy: Most life forms don’t have never-ending Edge of Everything lives. They have
normal sized lives. Which is why most life forms can’t travel from their
planets to other far-away ones – they don’t have enough life for it. They run
out of life on the way and then… maybe they reach somewhere later on, but
they don’t know about it.

There is one way though. In a planetary information book that I read once
(called Men Are From Earth, Women Are Also From Earth) there was an
article about a girl, from the nineteen hundred and nineties, who kind of
discovered it. And in the best way – without meaning to. She was walking on
ice and the ice broke and she fell through, into the coldest cold water. And not

The Boy at the Edge of Everything © Finegan Kruckemeyer, 2014 18

being able to do much, she just lay there – for longer than humans can not
breathe. And because it was so very cold, every part of her body slowed
down. Her heart beat slower. And her brain thought slower. And her lungs
asked for oxygen slower. So even though she was under the ice for 80
minutes (and 80 minutes is a long time underwater)… she survived. Survived
in that cold. Survived because of that cold. Like being caught in limbo.

And not many things are colder than the coldest water.

But a couple of things are.

Space is.

The capsule’s journey through Space is depicted.

Simon: Simon Ives and his Capsule shoot high into the sky – past kites, past lights,
past heights themselves. He thinks it’s amazing, just how much like flying
through the air, falling off a shed roof can feel. He can’t see anything, or hear
anything – except a great roaring that is less in his ears, and more in his belly,
and his bones, and his being. And after a bit he begins to wonder just how
long falling off a roof actually takes, because this feels like quite a while.

But then his friend The Cold takes over, and makes him more and more tired,
and more and more gaspy, and makes his insides slow down more and more,
and the roaring in his belly become fainter and fainter, until… he falls… into
a sleep… Until he is caught…

He passes out.

The Boy: …in limbo.

Later there’s a very hot bit, when the small Space Capsule (which is really a
meditation tank) passes through the burning rim of the atmosphere, and
trembles, and groans, and glows with a flaming light. But this meditation tank
(which is really a Space Capsule) turns out to be very strong, and because the
boy inside is wearing a diver’s helmet and a fireman’s suit, not even one of
his eyelashes gets a little bit singed. And because he’s sleeping so soundly, he
can’t even be amazed by this. He just lies in his meditation tank…

And meditates. And dreams of The Opposite of Falling, and The Other Part of
Landing, and the Simplicity of Breathing.

And dreams of dreams themselves. Simon Ives dreams of a cold so cold, it

makes the hands of Time freeze. He dreams of being a boy who is held so
perfectly still that the clocks inside him cannot tick one minute further, that

The Boy at the Edge of Everything © Finegan Kruckemeyer, 2014 19

he cannot get one minute older. He dreams of staying exactly as he is for the
longest time.

And because the dream is such a real one, it becomes that – it becomes real.

And Simon Ives – frozen like a child under ice (but frozen even colder, like a
child under a galaxy of stars) – he tumbles over years, and decades, and
centuries, and millennia, and… more than millennia.

He tumbles out… into Space.

Scene Eight

Mum (in pyjamas) and Louie sit at the table. Dad enters with lasagne. The phone rings
and an old answering machine plays.

Dad v/o: ‘You’ve reached the Ives household: Doug! [Each family member says their
own name] Helen! Simon! And Louie!’ [The three stare sadly at the
machine] ‘Sorry we’re out but leave a message and we’ll get back to you’.

A beep follows. Silence.

Dad: …lasagne. Here you go.

It is served and the three eat in silence. A fourth place sits empty.

Louie: For the first couple of years after my big brother Simon got fireworked into
the sky, Dad’s lasagne got really bad – like, he’d forget the recipe and put
weird stuff in it, like cinnamon. Or he’d forget the time and we’d all have to
chip away at the burnt bits.

Mum: It’s… lovely, Doug.

Dad: Thanks love.

Louie: Mum stopped combing her hair so it looked like she’d maybe been
electrocuted, and she usually wore pyjamas all day. Dad stopped playing his
favourite Irish lady singers, and instead we had to listen to either silence, or
this guy called Leonard Cohen, who sounds like his voice has been slowed
down. I preferred the silence.

Mum: Alright, Louie?

Louie nods.

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Louie: I didn’t even really talk for a while.

***

A reprise of the scene – Mum (still with hair askew) wears normal clothes, and Louie is a
teenager, wearing black. Dad enters with lasagne. The phone rings and a sombre
answering machine plays.

Dad v/o: ‘You’ve reached the Ives household: Doug, Helen… and Louie. Sorry we’re
out but leave a message and we’ll get back to you’.

A beep follows. Beat.

Dad: Lasagne – with slightly less burnt bits…

It is served and the three eat in silence. A fourth place sits empty.

Louie: Then after a couple of years, Dad’s cooking improved a bit, and Mum
remembered that there are different outfits for in bed and out of bed.

Mum: It’s lovely, Doug.

Dad: Thanks love.

Beat. Mum rises and puts on the Irish singer.

Louie: Little things started to return to the house that made me like it, and/

Mum: /Alright, Louie?

Louie: …Your hair’s hilarious, Mum.

Beat – all laugh quietly.

Louie: …I even started talking a little bit again.

***

A final reprise. Mum wears normal clothes, and Louie is a man. Dad enters with lasagne.
The phone rings and a relaxed answering machine plays.

Dad v/o: ‘You’ve reached Doug and Helen. Sorry we’re out but leave a message and
we’ll get back to you’.

Louie: And by the time I was 18, Dad’s recipe was back to normal.

The Boy at the Edge of Everything © Finegan Kruckemeyer, 2014 21

Dad: Douglas Ives’ world famous lasagne! Voila!

It is served and the three eat. A fourth place sits empty.

Louie: And Mom looked like moms usually do again.

Mom: It’s lovely, Doug.

Dad: Thanks love. Where was I? Oh yeah. So the vampire says: ‘Well how about/’

Dad silently completes the joke, as Louie narrates.

Louie: /And finally the house felt as warm as before.

The joke told, all explode in laughter.

Mom: You can’t tell him that!

Dad: Come on – Louie’s old enough. Aren’t you kiddo?

Louie: I should be alright. Thanks for having me over, guys.

Mom: It’s nice to see you. Now eat up before you waste away.

All tuck into their meals, smiling.

Louie: And it’s good. But… even though a lot of years have passed…

He eyes the fourth setting.

Louie: Mom.

Mom: Mm?

Louie: Do you think… it might be time to… to move Simon’s plate?

Silence. All study it. Mom and Dad look at one another.

Mom: I think… I think…

Dad: Maybe we’ll keep it there a little bit longer – yeah, Louie?

Louie: …Cool.

I like having him here with us.

The Boy at the Edge of Everything © Finegan Kruckemeyer, 2014 22

Pause. Dad holds Louie’s hand. All return to eating in silence.

Scene Nine

The Boy at the Edge of Everything studies the capsule.

The Boy: The space capsule flew for a while, for a few thousand years, and because I
had little to do, and because there was nothing much on TV, I put the kettle
on and drank tea and watched it fly. Until one day, I realise that the capsule
has gone from being an exciting thing, to being a worrying thing. Because…

[Shouts] Hey! Excuse me! Capsule! Adventurer in capsule! Can you please
wake up now and… steer yourself a little bit away!? No visiting thank you, I
said… Wake up now this moment immediately please! Like right now… like
in this very… Watch out – you’re heading right for my/

The capsule smashes into The Boy’s front yard and lies there still.

The Boy: …those were my begonias.

The Boy is in shock. He’s always wondered about maybe visiting somewhere
else. But now… a bit of somewhere else has visited him. And in a very front
yardy smashy way.

Simon: Wha… Where a… Mom… Hello? If there’s someone there, hel…

Simon swings the door open and emerges, confused. The Boy runs into his house.

Simon: When I stumble out of the space-meditation-craft-tank thing everything

feels… different. Not just outside me, but inside too – like I’ve been…
frozen. So I stretch and shake around a bit, and slowly I feel the blood return,
feel the calming warmth of things moving inside me again – you don’t really
notice that movement, unless it’s been still for a while.

The Boy: [Whispers] The other boy – who should really just turn and go away now,
please – doesn’t. Instead he does a… weird dance that might be some kind of
greeting. And I think he might be a nice enough alien. But then he starts
trying to pull off his own head!

Simon: I… (Come on – where’s the clip thing – arrggh – ah! Got it) …unsquidge my head
from the antique helmet and look around for my family. And they don’t look
back. They don’t look anything. They aren’t there. And wherever they’ve
gone, I realise the shed’s gone with them too. And the house. And the other

The Boy at the Edge of Everything © Finegan Kruckemeyer, 2014 23

houses around the one house that’s ours. And standing where it should be…
is someone else’s. I’ve woken up in someone else’s yard. Which is strange.

The Boy: He’s woken up in my yard, which is strange. And luckily he turns out to have
a normal head under his first head, which is less strange. But… it’s still odd,
this ‘being visited’ thing.

Simon: I say‘Hello’… But nothing says hello back. In the house, I hear a bump
though – so I go to the door, and knock politely. Then after a bit I knock less
politely. Then I knock out a bit of a tune, which is pretty cool. Then I put my
hand through the mail slot and wave. And then… I don’t know what to do.

The Boy: The boy has been helloing for a bit, but I realise he’s probably going to head
off now, and I realise ‘being visited’ is pretty easy because you just… do
nothing, and then they go away, and that’s the end.

Simon: And then I see a ladder.

The Boy: And then… oh, come on!

Simon climbs up. He is stunned.

Simon: Planets bob gently in the vast ether. Galaxies swirl and broil, and comets go
on big journeys. But that just sounds like looking at the night sky.

This is like if the sky’s forgotten what a sky is meant to do – that it should
only exist above you and that’s all. This sky has gone crazy. Like, it’s above
me, but below me too, down past the lawn. It stretches off to either side, a
million billion miles. And some stuff feels so brain-meltingly far away, but
other stuff feels real close – like this house is in the sky too, and we could just
pass and say hi to each other.

And if you sit on this side, you stare into the Everything – and Everything
stares back. That’s strange, and feels even fuller than my super full head,
because it contains every single thing there is in the Universe.

But if I sit on the other side…

He does, contentment settling upon him.

Simon: I stare out into… Nothing – into a place where nothing at all is happening.
Not even darkness (‘cause that’s a thing), or silence (‘cause that’s a thing
too). Just… nothing at all – just things that haven’t been invented yet… not
being invented. And that’s perfect. That’s just what I’ve been looking for.

And I sit there, for days and days.

The Boy at the Edge of Everything © Finegan Kruckemeyer, 2014 24

He is at peace. Slowly The Boy leaves the house, ascends the ladder and peers over the
top of the roof at Simon. Unsure what to do, he goes and sits on the opposite side, in a
mirrored image. Beat.

Scene Ten

The Boy lifts his binoculars.

The Boy: I stare way out to check if any more visitors are coming to fill up my roof
space now, if that’s how ‘being visited’ works and/

He fumbles and drops the binoculars, which bang.

The Boy: Always do that!

Quickly, Simon scrambles to the top of the roof and The Boy does too. They encounter
each other… and scream!

The Boy runs across the stage, pursued by Simon. When neared, The Boy freezes.

Simon: Hello? Who are you?

The Boy: [Staying frozen and whispering an aside] The first rule of alien
communication, is… you never communicate with aliens.

Simon: Hi? You person. You standing right there – hi.

The Boy: I’m… Not here.

Simon: …Yes you are. I can see you.

The Boy: Um… no. Just… Leave now please.

Simon: Well – how can you ask me to leave, if you’re not here? Like, if you’re not
here, then… no one’s telling me to leave. So I guess I’ll stay.

The Boy: …Okay. I am here. And… now leave now thank you please. Have a nice day.

Simon: I just… Do you know where my house is? Or my Mom – have you seen her?
She looks like… a Mom. Kind of… mommish hair, um… a mom face. She
wears… a sweater… sometimes.

The Boy: She’s not here.

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Simon: Oh right. Dad? Louie? [The Boy shakes his head] Ah – just a… boy I don’t
know who’s very bad at pretending to be invisible and/

The Boy: /You’ve been frozen a long time. You must have some very important
questions to ask.

Simon: Where’s my shed?

The Boy: (…Or that one). Your shed exploded.

Simon: And my family?

The Boy: Were left staring up. You flew off into Space and they didn’t want to detach
their eyes from you. Their eyes were big and sad.

Simon: Ah. So this really is…

The Boy: Space.

Simon: But… I can breathe.

The Boy: Well, your body’s been frozen so long that parts of you changed. Your lungs
grew used to not needing oxygen.

Simon: That’s impossible.

The Boy: No. I’ve been researching your planet while you slept – your Earth. Did I
pronounce it right?

Simon: …‘Earth’.

The Boy: Earth.

Simon: No – ‘Ur-th’.

The Boy: Earth.

Simon: ‘Earth’.

The Boy: Earth.

Simon: ‘Earth’.

The Boy: Earth.

The Boy at the Edge of Everything © Finegan Kruckemeyer, 2014 26

Simon: ‘Earth’!

The Boy: Earth.

Simon: ‘Earth’! …‘Earth’.

The Boy: Earth.

Simon: …Good enough.

The Boy: So I researched… your planet – and I read in one book (called Men Are From
Earth, Women Are Also From Earth) that there were once fish on it, who had
to be beneath the water, who couldn’t survive on land. But they grew tired of
that – so they did something wonderful. They climbed out of the water. They
found different ways to breathe. And they survived.

Simon: So?

The Boy: Well, they were the earliest version of you – a long, long time ago – and they
could change their lungs. So it makes sense you can too.

Simon: I guess so – in a funny way.

The Boy: Space is a bit funny.

Simon: And who are you?

The Boy: I am the Boy at the Edge of Everything.

Simon: Right. I’m Simon… the Boy kind of near the Shopping Mall on the Main
Road.

The Boy: Hello, Simon the boy kind of near the sh/

Simon: /Simon’s fine. Did I just… smash up your entire garden?

The Boy: Sort of. Well, not sort of. Yes you did. But that’s okay – bits of the Universe
have been getting closer for a while – and you just got… the most close.

Simon: So, what do you do out here?

The Boy: Re-do.

Simon: What?

The Boy: Oh, I’ve done everything already – loads of times. So I just re-do it all. Look.

The Boy at the Edge of Everything © Finegan Kruckemeyer, 2014 27

Scene Eleven

Simon: And The Boy leads me into his house and…

[To The Boy] I really don’t want to do anyth/ Woah – your house…

Even though it’s quite a normal-sized place from the outside, inside is…

[To The Boy] Is that a forest?

The Boy: 40 acres. I’ve been experimenting with plant species.

Simon: And a million instruments. And a billion boardgames. And a full-sized

library. And an Olympic swimming pool. And…

That’s a big trainset.

The Boy: Three galaxies. You want to…?

Simon: Sure.

And we play with all the stuff!

They launch into various activities.

Simon: We send eight different locomotive carriages charging along towards the
same intersection until…

A large, enduring explosion.

Simon: Wicked train smash!

The Boy: We invent a game called…

Tutti: Monopo-scrabba-checka-gammon-chessketball! You roll 12 dice, then pick a

card, and move a pawn, and jump a piece, and make a word, and get a slam
dunk. And then it’s the next person’s turn.

Simon: We go to the library and/

The Boy: /Be careful you don’t tip the shelves. They’re not that/

The Boy at the Edge of Everything © Finegan Kruckemeyer, 2014 28

The sound of a giant bookshelf tipping and smashing into the next, and then on and on
like dominoes for half a minute, as the two stare on, shocked. Beat.

Simon: Sorry about th/

The sound continues for a while longer. Beat.

The Boy: I’ll clean it up.

The shelves are miraculously righted.

Simon: Woah…

We practice breakdancing!

Check it out, The Boy! Am I doing it!?

The Boy: Maybe... It looks a bit different in the book… Are you okay?

Simon: …I think I’m stuck.

We go… in here!/

Simon attempts to open one door but The Boy dramatically pulls it closed again.

The Boy: /That’s…! Private. Um – my pantry. My under-pantry. Where I keep my…

underpants.

Simon: …Right.

The Boy: We… we re-enact classic lines from famous action movies!

Simon: Yeah!

The Boy: [Strangely accented] ‘You can melt my face with your acid breath, Zarg – but
you’ll never melt… my search for justice!’ Pow pow pow!/

Simon: /I don’t get the reference/

The Boy: /It was big on Jupiter/

Simon: /Cool. We go to the kitchen and invent amazing different recipes using every
single ingredient we can find.

The Boy: Are you sure you want to drink that? It looks a bit… notdrinkable.

The Boy at the Edge of Everything © Finegan Kruckemeyer, 2014 29

Simon: [Sculls it and laughs] Oh I think you’ll find, Mr Edge-of-Everything-space-
living-deceptively-large-home-interior guy, that this earth boy is pretty damn
good at drinking new drin/

Simon is vomiting violently as The Boy looks away, embarrassed.

The Boy: Are you sure you’re oka/

Simon: /I’m… I’m fine. Think that’s the end o/ [He recommences]

Vomitty montage.

The Boy: It’s just… It’s been about twenty-five minutes.

Simon: Really, I’m okay n…

It continues.

The Boy: I’ve actually never seen anyone be that ill – from any species. Ever. There’s
one species that only eats vomit – and I think you’d make them sick.

Simon: Enough talk, Edge Boy. I’m/ [Just retains control] …I’m good now.

The Boy: So, what else do you want to do!? We could go street-lugeing, or explode
some fireworks, or play the shasch-ma-hesh! It’s an instrument with a sound
that makes you grow facial hair – I once played for it for six days straight,
and grew a 12-foot beard! Or we could/

Simon: /Stop, please – I say to The Boy on the Edge of an Aneurysm. Everything
we’ve been doing is fun.

But ‘everything’ is the problem. Back home I’m always doing everything.
And what I never get to do… is what’s up there – is Nothing.

I just… I just want Nothing.

Beat. He ascends the ladder and sits on his side of the roof.

Simon: And I climb up on the roof, and sit back on the tiles, and stare out at the
Nothing. And it doesn’t play me a song, or ask me about girls, or show me
something cool. It shows me Nothing. Because Nothing is all it is.

Silence. The Boy is unsure as to what to do.

The Boy: After a bit, I go back inside – back to the forest, and the pool, and the un-
fallen-down books. But it turns out, those things feel a bit different now.

The Boy at the Edge of Everything © Finegan Kruckemeyer, 2014 30

Because before, when myselfness was all I knew, that was okay. But now that
I know what otherpeopleness feels like… I miss it a bit.

He ascends the ladder also, and sits on his side.

The Boy: So I climb up as well, and I sit on my side (because I know The Boy kind of
near the Shopping Mall on the Main Road just wants Nothing). I sit on the
Edge of Everything, and I stare at the other people on the other planets.

And even though they’re far away – it’s nice to know they’re there.

Scene Twelve

Seen in their opposing positions, Simon becomes aware of The Boy’s presence, and his
own absence. He scales the roof and sits beside him.

Simon: What you looking at?

The Boy: Faraway stuff.

Simon: Like what?

They share one half of a binocular each.

The Boy: And I tell him some of my favourite places:

That planet has a forest of the tallest trees, which have branches so big, and so
interwoven, you can walk on top of them, and check the nests for eggs. That
one has a sea you tell what kind of waves you want, and it gives them to you,
and you surf until your legs are weak.

And that other one’s made entirely of dogpoo! Not old either – new dogpoo.
Like you’ve just stepped in it and it’s broken open and the smell has escaped
again. That one’s awful.

On that planet, you have to travel everywhere on waterslides. On the one next
to it, your insides all hang on your outside (which is gross). And that one way
off to the right, has mountains made entirely of windows! And ground made
entirely of baseballs! And no one around to care how much you smash!

Simon: Cool! Have you done it?

The Boy: What?

The Boy at the Edge of Everything © Finegan Kruckemeyer, 2014 31

Simon: Smashed the mountains?

The Boy: Oh no. No, I’m over here and… that planet’s over there, see?

Simon: Yeah, but – you could travel there.

The Boy: …

I mostly just read about the planets, and binocularise the planets, and
experience them like that.

Simon: But… that’s not really experiencing, is it – if you don’t want to do anything.

The Boy: Well… you don’t either.

Simon: What?

The Boy: Do anything – you don’t want to, like you said. [Points to a new planet] Look
– there’s your Earth. And you’ve had enough of doing Earth stuff, you just
said it. So it’s kind of the same.

Simon: No. I just mean I don’t like doing it all at once. It’s not like someone would
actually miss… [He sees it] homework, and crowded bus-riding, and manic
soccer fields, and shouty family dinners and…

But as I say this to The Boy, I realise… that’s not true. I do miss them – all
those things that used to fill my brain diary. All those people that used to fill
my days… I miss them a lot.

Mum, Dad and an adult Louie are seen, sitting around a table with an empty plate.

Simon: And even though they’re far away – it’s nice to know they’re there.

Beat.

The Boy: Except they’re not.

Simon: What?

The Boy: Your family. They’re not there.

Simon: But… I can see them.

The Boy: Yeah – but it’s like… like looking at stars in the sky. Some of them are so far
away, and you can see their light. But that’s only because it took so long to
reach you, from so far away. So you’re not seeing them – you’re seeing a

The Boy at the Edge of Everything © Finegan Kruckemeyer, 2014 32

long distance memory of them, that crossed the Universe over millions of
years to get to you.

Simon: No – they’re my family. They… I can see them.

The Boy: You’ve been gone a really long time, Simon.

Simon: They’re sitting back on Earth.

The Boy: …Your planet’s been gone a really long time too.

Simon: And my friends… my soccer practice… tae kwon do. Homework even… I
have to get back to that stuff.

The Boy: You can’t. That stuff is… finished. But if you look long enough through the
binoculars, at least their memories will reach you.

Simon: That stuff is… finished. [Beat] And suddenly Nothing-finding… it doesn’t
feel all that important anymore.

Silence. The Boy watches Simon worriedly.

The Boy: Simon Ives sits on my roof (a thing he’s found) and stares out at his planet (a
thing he’s lost)… for the longest time. And it’s funny, because I really have
known the longest time. I’ve known all of Time, from the beginning bit to the
now bit, over billions of years.

But thinking back, I can’t remember any bit, that’s felt as long, and as empty,
as this.

Beat. The Boy rises and begins descending the ladder.

The Boy: Come on now please.

Simon: Where are you…

Sadly, he follows. The Boy guides him through the house and opens the door that was
previously private.

Simon: Yeah I’ve seen all your stuff, Edge Boy. It’s cool but I’m kind of not in the/

The Boy reveals a dusty answering machine and plays Simon’s original family message.
Simon is shocked and follows him inside.

The Boy: And Simon Ives, the boy from the not-there-anymore planet, he sees…

The Boy at the Edge of Everything © Finegan Kruckemeyer, 2014 33

Simon: …Earth.

The Boy: He sees that some of what’s not there anymore… is here.

Bits of it, yes. I’m an Earth collector. Well, amateur Earth collector… Well,
the only Earth collector really. I collect Earth stuff.

Simon: But how did you get it all?

The Boy: Oh, early on a few little things fell off it, and just… washed up here – on the
space tide. And then when the Earth… ended (it had a really nice long life by
the way), lots of things were sent in all directions and I just… gathered a
bunch of Earth artefacts and, yeah, made this collection. Look!

Simon: …A calculator.

The Boy: Yes! [He types in numbers then holds it to his ear] ‘Hello. How are you’. Ha
ha! Not working though – ah well.

Simon: It doesn’t really work like… never mind.

And looking round the room – which stretches so, so far and is full of a
million billion glass cabinets…

The Boy proudly holds a thermometer.

The Boy: ‘Oh! It’s… 98.5 o’clock! Time to go to my Earth job.’ Ha!

Beat.

Simon: …I see everything – everything that my world ever held. Old milk cartons sit
beside shining Nautilus shells from the bottom of the sea. Bike tyres and
Buddhist prayer wheels spin round and round. Colouring pencils and ancient
arrows with stone points share the same quiver.

The Boy grabs a pencil – he mimes it being fired from a bow and piercing him.

The Boy: ‘Agghhh!’ [He does a blood gushing mime] …Dead.

Anyway – nice memories.

Simon: Yeah but… They’re not your memories to remember. You didn’t actually
experience them the first time. They’re my stuff, okay. From my world.

The Boy: Well sorry but… I have known Earth a lot longer than you.

The Boy at the Edge of Everything © Finegan Kruckemeyer, 2014 34

What he says may be depicted as the two walk up to the roof.

The Boy: I did see it come to be, Simon Ives – one millennia when I was up on the roof.
I saw gases and chemicals merge, forces pull things together. There are quite
a few planets I’ve seen turn up, over the years, but this one – it caught my
eye. It just looked so… hopeful. It wanted to work. So after that I kept
checking in on it, every few centuries.

Soon mountains and valleys formed – water drove its way up through rock,
plants drove their way up through water, grew onto land. Forests! They were
beautiful. Things began moving, on the surface, things that took on many
forms (have you ever seen a giraffe? That thing is hilarious). Dinosaurs came
along – they were great. Your ones – the beginnings of you – they appeared.
And they had hope too!

They started off cold, but they found fire soon enough. The fire melted things
into points, the points cut wood, the wood made structures, the structures
gave shelter, the shelters held farmers who told the land what to be, held
teachers who told the children what they could be – they passed on the hope!

And the children became adults… and the hopes, became realities! I saw
dams and bridges and skyscrapers and aeroplanes and… these small screens,
which… which could see you saying hello in one place – and then show you
saying hello in another! Between people who… who could be way away (on
the edge of everything, say) and still feel connected. If they wanted to. When
they were ready to.

This one little blue and green planet… [He looks through the binoculars]
With all those people. All that hope.

Beat. He hands the binoculars to Simon.

The Boy: And you miss those faraway people, Simon Ives, because you lost them.

But I miss them too… Because we never even got to meet.

Silence.

Simon: Mm. [Simon hands the binoculars back] Thanks.

The Boy: Yeah. [Beat] Sorry we have to share these. I had another pair I would’ve lent
you. Only they fell into the Nothing a few days ago.

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Scene Thirteen

Simon: [Beat] They what? What happened to them?

The Boy: They fell. I was cleaning the gutters out, round the Nothing side of the roof
(which is a very dangerous job). And my binoculars were hanging round my
neck, and I leant forward and… off they went.

Simon: …Were they blue?

The Boy: Mm. They were blue. But now they’re Nothing.

Simon: No they’re not…

The Boy: What?

Simon: Your binoculars. I’ve seen them!

The Boy: In an Earth shop? I don’t think so, Earth Boy. These were Intergalactic Future
Super Hyper-Binoc 3000s, with Quasar-lasered lenses, and a very
comfortable neck chain. I invented them.

Simon: No, I mean I saw those exact ones. After music practice. They landed right…

Ah!

The Boy: ‘Ah’ what?

Simon: ‘Ah’ – I have to jump off your roof.

He runs to the edge and The Boy follows.

The Boy: Have you gone space crazy?

Simon: No, I’ve/

The Boy: /Oh no. Are you going to be sick again? I don’t think I can handle watchi/

Simon: /Listen, Edge Boy. The Nothing – here – this place which doesn’t exist right
behind your house – I know where it goes.

The Boy: So do I – Nowhere. It’s Nothing.

Simon: True… But on the other side of Nothing, is something. You live at the
furthest place possible. And beyond you, is nothing – is just… our way back.

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Beat.

The Boy: You mean your way back?

Simon: No, Edge Boy. No I don’t think I do.

The Boy: I don’t understand what that/

Simon pushes The Boy off the roof, and then jumps after him.

Scene Fourteen

The bus stop is seen. Beat. Both arrive at the site, shocked. The Boy’s eyes are shut tight.

The Boy: I can’t believe you just tried to push me off the roof! Ha! Off the roof and into
the Nothing! Ha ha! Because that would have been… crazy! That would have
been a truly crazy thing to do!

Simon: Boy. Hey – Edge Boy.

The Boy: You’ve done it, haven’t you?

Simon: Mm.

The Boy: Ah.

Slowly The Boy opens one eye and then the other. He freaks out.

The Boy: This is very unEdgelike. This is very… Middle-like. A very Middle place.
I’m surrounded by… Earth stuff. From my Earth books. Look – an Earth bus
stop. There’s Earth litter. An Earth lady:

Hi, Earth lady! Look at us, all being on Earth together! Nice Earth handbag!
And… nothing. Okay – see you later!

Simon: I can’t believe… we’re back.

The Boy: Yeah.

Simon: From jumping off the roof.

The Boy: Yeah.

Simon: I didn’t think that would work.

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The Boy: No/ What!? You… you pushed me off the Edge of the known Universe! Into
the vastness of Nothing! But you didn’t think it would work!?

Simon: …Good it did though.

The Boy: Good it did th/

Simon: /I’m home. Excellent.

The Boy: …Home.

Beat.

The Boy: So this is where we say goodbye, yes? Um, it was nice to meet you and/

Simon: /Hang on – I thought of something else.

The Boy: What?

Simon: I figured, why don’t you spend a bit of time here, on this planet? I mean it
doesn’t have mountains made of windows, or waterslide roads, or… dogpoo
worlds. But… it has people. It has some of those faraway people you said you
missed. And now – you don’t have to anymore.

Pause.

The Boy: …Okay.

Simon: Cool. And – how much do you like the name, Boy at the Edge of Everything?

The Boy: Not very much.

Simon: Well, why don’t you come up with a new one? It’s a new school year, and
you’re a new kid who’s moved to a new town, and no one knows you (‘cause
you’re new). And your new name is…

The Boy: …The Boy sort of Near… this Trash Can?

Simon: …No.

The Boy: No.

Simon: Um… How about… Colin Gillespie? That’ll work.

The Boy: And it does.

The Boy at the Edge of Everything © Finegan Kruckemeyer, 2014 38

Suddenly, a strong gust of wind hits the boys, and a blown newspaper catches on Simon’s
leg. As he notices this, the whistling sound of a falling object is heard, getting closer and
louder. Simon realises what this moment is, and pushes The Boy away so he won’t get hit.
A pair of binoculars falls from the sky. They land. The Boy re-enters the space.

The Boy: Hey.

Simon: Hey… Colin Gillespie.

Simon points, first at the binoculars – and then at the sky. Colin nods. Beat.

The other three children rush on, and all board the bus and their former friendship roles.

Simon: And over the next weeks, me and the new kid Colin Gillespie and the other
kids, we catch the bus together.

Michael goes to punch Colin, who dodges, causing him to hit the wall.

Michael: Ow!

All form the soccer tableaux.

Simon: And on the weekends, we all play soccer.

Michael: You’re probably the worst free kicker I’ve ever see/

Colin, oblivious behind his hands, dodges the ball as it comes flying. Michael is hit.

Michael: Ow!

All form the classroom tableaux.

Simon: And during the day, we all sit side by side in class.

Michael: [Whispers to Colin] Psst – I think you’re weird.

Colin: And I think you, Michael, are merely a confluence of genes that have taken
on the form of a human, just so they can survive, and live on in the progeny
you one day create with a genetically sympathetic other. So basically, your
entire notion of you – and who you are, and what you like and what you think
is weird – is really a fallacy: you’re just a carriage vessel for a wilful gene
that existed long before you – and will exist forever after.

Michael: [Struggling to process this] …Ow.

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All form the table tableaux.

Simon: And whenever he’s asked, the new kid says he’s moved/

The Boy: /from some place far away. And that’s true.

Simon: But only I know how far away far away really means. And sometimes, Colin
Gillespie comes to my place for dinner.

Dad: Douglas Ives’ world famous lasagne! Voila!

Mom: It’s lovely, Doug.

Dad: Thanks love. You like it, Louie?

Louie: …I’ve had better.

Simon: And we sit with my parents, and Louie – who’s back to being eight again.

Louie: Just tell me what the vampire says!

Simon: Which is annoying (but kind of great too). And the smell of lasagne hangs in
the air, and a song by some Irish lady Dad likes floats in from the next room.

The Boy: And the Boy in the Middle of Everything knows that some time, in eighty
years or so, he’ll head off back to his house, and water the plants, and return
to his ironing. And that’s okay. But for now he feels just fine, having This
Life, down here.

Simon looks up. The Boy understands.

Simon: And just thinking about the Amazing Expanding Universe, up there.

Simon exhales a breath, his hand knocking over his glass – the table explodes in uproar.

Mom: /Every time, Simon!/

Dad: /What is wrong with your son!/
Louie: /I told you! I told you he would, dad! You owe me a dollar! I so told you!

The glass is suddenly – inexplicably – righted, and all (besides Simon and The Boy who
smile conspiratorially) are confused.

Louie: …Woah.

THE END

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