first. voice.
[The recording opens with the low murmur of voice over voice, conservation over conservation. Indoors. Glasses clink together. It's the hum of a crowd: a party. Sloppy stringed instruments slur Christmas carols.]
Happy holidays. [Pause.] Why, thank you. Happy holidays to you, too. God bless you.
[The voice might be familiar to some, a rumbling old man's filled with false cheer.]
Mm. This really is a good time to be back, isn't it? Nothing like spending the holidays with old friends. And I do mean old.
[Many of the other voices carry the crackle of old age. When the music fades (instruments all ending at separate times, several out of tune, one sniffling nose), a little boy's voice pops up: 'Next, we're playing Jingle Bells--' Cavil has crashed a retirement home party. With small children. When the music starts, there's an audible cringe in his voice.]
Yes. Truly the epitome of culture. [Pause.] In any case. Some people claim that everything happens for a reason. This notion, and those people, are idiotic. You see, I believe that everything happens because either someone lets it happen or someone makes it happen. And that someone isn't hanging around in the sky. Maybe some of you understand. The smart ones, anyway. Wherever you are. [Pause.]
Now, where was I? Ah, yes. I've made up my own reason for coming back. Do you want to guess what it is? Here, we can have a guessing game. Maybe a round of charades. Or how about I mix up the responses in a bingo board and we can take it nice and slow, piece by piece. What about a hangman's noose?
[Someone screams. THUMP. The music cuts out. Panic cuts in. 'Somebody get the nurse!' 'Oh God!' 'Marie? Marie??' Cavil's voice is smooth and calm.]
Granted, there are some disadvantages to surrounding myself with my geriatric peers. After all. Human biology only lasts so long before it falls apart.
Happy holidays. [Pause.] Why, thank you. Happy holidays to you, too. God bless you.
[The voice might be familiar to some, a rumbling old man's filled with false cheer.]
Mm. This really is a good time to be back, isn't it? Nothing like spending the holidays with old friends. And I do mean old.
[Many of the other voices carry the crackle of old age. When the music fades (instruments all ending at separate times, several out of tune, one sniffling nose), a little boy's voice pops up: 'Next, we're playing Jingle Bells--' Cavil has crashed a retirement home party. With small children. When the music starts, there's an audible cringe in his voice.]
Yes. Truly the epitome of culture. [Pause.] In any case. Some people claim that everything happens for a reason. This notion, and those people, are idiotic. You see, I believe that everything happens because either someone lets it happen or someone makes it happen. And that someone isn't hanging around in the sky. Maybe some of you understand. The smart ones, anyway. Wherever you are. [Pause.]
Now, where was I? Ah, yes. I've made up my own reason for coming back. Do you want to guess what it is? Here, we can have a guessing game. Maybe a round of charades. Or how about I mix up the responses in a bingo board and we can take it nice and slow, piece by piece. What about a hangman's noose?
[Someone screams. THUMP. The music cuts out. Panic cuts in. 'Somebody get the nurse!' 'Oh God!' 'Marie? Marie??' Cavil's voice is smooth and calm.]
Granted, there are some disadvantages to surrounding myself with my geriatric peers. After all. Human biology only lasts so long before it falls apart.