ACT ONE
Scene One
The office of DR EMMA BROOKNER. Three men are in the waiting area: CRAIG DONNER, MICKEY MARCUS and NED WEEKS.
CRAIG (after a long moment of silence). I know somethingās wrong.
MICKEY. Thereās nothing wrong. When youāre finished weāll go buy you something nice. What would you like?
CRAIG. Weāll go somewhere nice to eat, okay? Did you see that guy in thereās spots?
MICKEY. You donāt have those. Do you?
CRAIG. No.
MICKEY. Then you donāt have anything to worry about.
CRAIG. She said they can be inside you, too.
MICKEY. Theyāre not inside you.
CRAIG. Theyāre inside me.
MICKEY. Will you stop! Why are you convinced youāre sick?
CRAIG. Whereās Bruce? Heās supposed to be here. Iām so lucky to have such a wonderful lover. I love Bruce so much, Mickey. I know somethingās wrong.
MICKEY. Craig, all youāve come for is some test results. Now stop being such a hypochondriac.
CRAIG. Iām tired all the time. I wake up in swimming pools of sweat. Last time she felt me and said I was swollen. Iām all swollen, like something ready to explode. Thank you for coming with me, youāre a good friend. Excuse me for being such a mess, Ned. I get freaked out when I donāt feel well.
MICKEY. Everybody does.
DAVID comes out of EMMAās office. There are highly visible purple lesions on his face. He wears a long-sleeved shirt. He goes to get his jacket, which heās left on one of the chairs.
DAVID. Whoeverās next can go in.
CRAIG. Wish me luck.
MICKEY (hugging CRAIG). Good luck.
CRAIG hugs him, then NED, and goes into EMMAās office.
DAVID. They keep getting bigger and bigger and they donāt go away. (To NED.) I sold you a ceramic pig once at Maison France on Bleecker Street. My name is David.
NED. Yes, I remember. Somebody I was friends with then collects pigs and you had the biggest pig Iād ever seen outside of a real pig.
DAVID. Iām her twenty-eighth case and sixteen of them are dead. (He leaves.)
NED. Mickey, what the fuck is going on?
MICKEY. I donāt know. Are you here to write about this?
NED. I donāt know. Whatās wrong with that?
MICKEY. Nothing, I guess.
NED. What about you? What are you going to say? Youāre the one with the health column.
MICKEY. Well, Iāll certainly write about it in the Native, but Iām afraid to put it in the stuff I write at work.
NED. What are you afraid of?
MICKEY. The city doesnāt exactly show a burning interest in gay health. But at least Iāve still got my job: the Health Department has had a lot of cutbacks.
NED. Howās John?
MICKEY. John? John who?
NED. Youāve had so many I never remember their last names.
MICKEY. Oh, you mean John. Iām with Gregory now. Gregory OāConnor.
NED. The old gay activist?
MICKEY. Old? Heās younger than you are. Iāve been with Gregory for ten months now.
NED. Mickey, thatās very nice.
MICKEY. Heās not even Jewish. But donāt tell my rabbi.
CRAIG (coming out of EMMAās office). Iām going to die. Thatās the bottom line of what sheās telling me. Iām so scared. I have to go home and get my things and come right back and check in. Mickey, please come with me. I hate hospitals. Iām going to die. Whereās Bruce? I want Bruce.
MICKEY and CRAIG leave. DR EMMA BROOKNER comes in from her office. She is in a motorized wheelchair. She is in her mid-to-late thirties.
EMMA. Who are you?
NED. Iām Ned Weeks. I spoke with you on the phone after the Times article.
EMMA. Youāre the writer fellow whoās scared. Iām scared, too. I hear youāve got a big mouth.
NED. Is big mouth a symptom?
EMMA. No, a cure. Come on in and take your clothes off.
NED. I only came to ask some questions.
EMMA. Youāre gay, arenāt you? Take your clothes off.
Lights up on an examining table, center stage. NED starts to undress.
NED. Dr Brookner, whatās happening?
EMMA. I donāt know.
NED. In just a couple of minutes you told two people I know something. The article said there isnāt any cure.
EMMA. Not even any good clues yet. All I know is this disease is the most insidious killer Iāve ever seen or studied or heard about. And I think weāre seeing only the tip of the iceberg. And Iām afraid itās on the rampage. Iām frightened nobody important is going to give a damn because it seems to be happening mostly to gay men. Who cares if a faggot dies? Does it occur to you to do anything about it. Personally?
NED. Me?
EMMA. Somebodyās got to do something.
NED. Wouldnāt it be better coming from you?
EMMA. Doctors are extremely conservative; they try to stay out of anything that smells political, and this smells. Bad. As soon as you start screaming you get treated like a nutcase. Maybe you know that. And then youāre ostracized and rendered worthless, just when you need cooperation most. Take off your socks.
NED, in his undershorts, is now sitting on the examining table. EMMA will now examine him, his skin particularly, starting with the bottom of his feet, feeling his lymph glands, looking at his scalp, into his mouthā¦
NED. Nobody listens for very long anyway. Thereās a new disease of the month every day.
EMMA. This hospital sent its report of our first cases to the medical journals over a year ago. The New England Journal of Medicine has finally published it, and last week, which brought you running, The Times ran something on some inside page. Very inside: page twenty. If you remember, legionnairesā disease, toxic shock, they both hit the front page of The Times the minute they happened. And stayed there until somebody did something. The front page of The Times has a way of inspiring action. Lie down.
NED. They wonāt even use the word āgayā unless itās in a direct quote. To them weāre still homosexuals. Thatās like still calling blacks Negroes. The Times has always had trouble writing about anything gay.
EMMA. Then how is anyone going to know whatās happening? And what precautions to take? Someoneās going to have to tell the gay population fast.
NED. Youāve been living with this for over a year? Whereās the Mayor? Whereās the Health Department?
EMMA. They know about it. You have a Commissioner of Health who got burned with the swine flu epidemic, declaring an emergency when there wasnāt one. The government appropriated $150 million for that mistake. You have a Mayor whoās a bachelor and I assume afraid of being perceived as too friendly to anyone gay. And who is also out to protect a billion-dollar-a-year tourist industry. Heās not about to tell the world thereās an epidemic menacing his city. And donāt ask me about the President. Is the Mayor gay?
NED. If he is, like J. Edgar Hoover, who would want him?
EMMA. Have you had any of the symptoms?
NED. Iāve had most of the sexually transmitted diseases the article said come first. A lot of us have. You donāt know what itās been like since the sexual revolution hit this country. Itās been crazy, gay or straight.
EMMA. What makes you think I donāt know? Any fever, weight loss, night sweats, diarrhea, swollen glands, white patches in your mouth, loss of energy, shortness of breath, chronic cough?
NED. No. But those could happen with a lot of things, couldnāt they?
EMMA. And purple lesions. Sometimes. Which is what Iām looking for. Itās a cancer. There seems to be a strange reaction in the immune system. Itās collapsed. Wonāt work. Wonāt fight. Which is what itās supposed to do. So most of the diseases my guys are coming down with ā and there are some very strange ones ā are caused by germs that wouldnāt hurt a baby, not a baby in New York City anyway. Unfortunately, the immune system is the system we know least about. So where is this big mouth I hear youāve got?
NED. I have more of a bad temper than a big mouth.
EMMA. Nothing wrong with that. Plenty to get angry about. Health is a political issue. Everyoneās entitled to good medical care. If youāre not getting it, youāve got to...