A READERS THEATRE PRODUCTION OF THREE STORIES FROM

STANISLAW LEM'S THE CYBERIAD; FABLES

FOR THE CYBERNETIC AGE

by

CONNIE TAPP BANDY, B.S. in Ed.

A THESIS

IN

SPEECH COMMUNICATION

Submitted to the Graduate Faculty of Texas Tech University in -Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements for the Degree of

MASTER OF ARTS

Approved

Accepted

December, 1982 7:- : I P"—

^

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I am deeply indebted to Dr. Vera L. Simpson for her direction of this thesis, and for her help and encouragement throughout the years. I would also like to thank Dr. William J. Jordan and Dr. Keith V. Erickson for their helpful criticism and advice. I would like to express my gratitude to Mrs. Linda Milam Vancil and to Mr. Julian "Kip" Hyde, who also read the role of Klapaucius, for their invaluable help in staging this readers theatre production, as well as to the rest of my cast for their hard work: Mr. Ernest Barton, Ms. Joyce Elliot, and Ms. Linda Thompson. Mr. Stephen Tolle designed the backdrop for the set.

11 CONTENTS

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS 11 I. INTRODUCTION 1 Review of Previous Studies in Science Fiction 2 Oral Interpretation and Readers Theatre as Modes of Literary Study 5 Justification of the Study 7 Statement of Problem 10 Methodology 11 Summary of Chapters 11 II. LEM'S LIFE AND LITERATURE 15 Difficulties in Working with Translations 15 Brief Biography of Lem 18 Lem's Works 19 Lem's Major Themes and Techniques 26 Reasons for Choosing The Cyberiad Selections 27 Summary 29 III. CONFRONTATION, MEDITATION, CONTROL AND RECOGNITION OF THE STRUCTURAL DYNAMICS OF THE LITERATURE 32 Director's Role: Confrontation 32 Director's Role: Meditation 34 Director's Role: Determination of Control and Structural Dynamics 35 Director's Role: Assembling the Cast 38 Group Process: Confrontation 41 Group Process: Meditation and Control 43 Group Process: Recognition of Structural Dynamics 44 Summary 45 IV. EXPLORATION OF THE LITERATURE 47 Group Evolution of the Set 47 Group Evolution of Characters 49 Group Evolution of Blocking 52 Development of Costuming 54

111 Rationale for Lighting 54 Summary 55 V. COMPLETION 57 Public Performances 57 Audience Reactions to the Metaworld 57 Summary 68 VI. SUMMARY, CONCLUSIONS, AND RECOMMENDATIONS FOR FUTURE STUDY 70 Summary 70 Conclusions 71 Recommendations for Future Study 71 SELECTED BIBLIOGRAPHY 73 APPENDICES A. Correspondence 83 B. Script 86 C. Figures 131 1. Ground Plan 132 2. Elevation of Center Arrangement 133 D. Audience Questionnaire 134

iv CHAPTER I

INTRODUCTION

Our concern here ... is with certain writers of real excellence whose major achievements have come after the remarkable decade of the fifties but who for one reason or another, have not been a part of the "New Wave." Their work is among the very best science fiction we have, and its high literary quality has had much to do with the grow­ ing attention science fiction has received from literary critics and the growing respectability of science fiction courses in schools and colleges. These writers are Philip K. Dick and Ursula K. Le Guin in America, John Brunner and D. G. Compton in England, and Stanislaw Lem in Poland.

This thesis has as its subject the works of one of the "writers of real excellence," Stanislaw Lem, which had been translated into English as of April, 1978. Although each of his works of fiction which had been translated will be discussed at least briefly, major attention will be directed to his cycle of robotic tales. The Cyberiad: Fables for the Cybernetic Age, translated by Michael Kandel The means of literary study employed will be literary analysis cul­ minating in performance through readers theatre. This chapter will set forth introductory material relevant to this study, discuss the compatibility of science fiction and readers theatre, state the par­ ticular problem to be examined, introduce the method to be followed in solving that problem, and outline the chapters to follow. Review of Previous Studies in Science Fiction

And what are some of the things which the tradi­ tional literary critic knows about SF? He knows that works of SF use the language clumsily, with neither grace nor wit. He knows that these works lack interesting characters, being populated by robots, some of whom are supposed to be men and women. He knows that the plotting in these fic­ tions is either hackneyed, episodic, or both. And he knows that their subject matter is unreal, 2 escapist, and ultimately trivial.

This description of the field of science fiction is, perhaps, the most pervasive one for many people. Why, then, should the number of courses offered in the study of science fiction rise from one in 1962 at Colgate University, to approximately five hundred by 1974 at various colleges throughout the United States and Canada, as Lahna F. 3 Diskin reported in her doctoral research? The answer may simply be:

... a certain amount of what people "know" about SF without reading it is true—and simply reveals a prejudice against the genre and against other con­ temporary forms of fiction as well. But much of this "knowledge" is totally unfounded, the result of misinformation and ignorance of the texts them­ selves.

Ursula K. Le Guin, herself one of the "certain writers of real excellence" mentioned earlier, also discusses this "image" problem in one of her essays:

It's a pity that this trivial image is perpetuated, when the work of people from Zamyatin to Lem has shown that when science fiction uses its limitless range of symbol and metaphor novelistically, with the subject at the centre [sic], it can show us who we are, and where we are, and what choices face us, with unsurpassed clarity, and with a great and troubling beauty.

In research at the University of Iowa, Sam J. Siciliano concluded that science fiction works were both creative and mimetic, drawing on reality to create something new. After working with "Science, Fiction, and Film: A Study of the Interaction of Science, Science Fiction Literature, and the Growth of Cinema," Bruce R. Cook con­ cluded that science fiction serves a threefold purpose in modern society: as a feedback system to science; as a barometer of societal concerns, hopes, and fears; and as a modern mythology. Norman Spinrad agrees that science fiction holds a unique sphere of influ­ ence:

Speculative fiction is the only fiction that deals with modern reality in the only way that it can be comprehended—as the interface between a rapidly evolving and fissioning environment and the result­ ant continuously mutating human consciousness. Speculative fiction is surfacing into popular cul­ ture from every direction because it reflects the condition of the modern mind. It is the only fic­ tion that confronts and explores the modern Zeit­ geist and is therefore inherently the literature of 8 our times.

Although science/speculative fiction may serve as a type of modem mythology, it explores Mythos within certain new knowledge. Robert Scholes writes in his book. Structural Fabulation: ^ Essay on Fiction of the Future: In works of structural fabulation the tradition of speculative fiction is modified by an awareness of the nature of the universe as a system of systems, a structure of structures, and the insights of the past century of science are accepted as fictional points of departure. Yet structural fabulation is neither scientific in its methods nor a substitute for actual science. It is a fictional exploration of human situation made perceptible by the impli­ cations of recent science. Its favorite themes involve the impact of developments or revelations derived from the human or the physical sciences upon the people who must live with those revela- 9 tions or developments.

Some research has been conducted from this viewpoint of scien­ tific developments. Nancy Whyte Lewis examined the Alexandria Quartet group of novels by Lawrence Durrell in terms of the author's rendering of space in the post-Einsteinian era, to determine the degree Durrell approached reality as either wholistic or atomistic. Samuel H. Vasbinder reached further into the past to look at elements of Newtonian monism as a basis of scientific thought in Mary Shelley's Frankenstein, while T. H. Kirlin delved into the "geometric imagination" of H. G. Wells in early classic science fiction: The Time 12 Machine, The Sleeper Wakes, and "A Story of Days to Come." Not all research has taken the scientific tack, however. D. G. Jackson chose to perform a historical analysis of the Frankenstein 13 story, based on mythos, technological advances, and social changes. Jennie Dailey designed a course on science fiction, including such diverse works as Robert Heinlein's Stranger in a^ Strange Land, Frank Herbert's Dune, Roger Zelazny's "A Rose for Ecclesiastes," and Samuel Delaney's "Time Considered as a Helix of Semi-Precious Stones," as 14 well as others. Science fiction themes in mainstream novels. William Golding's The Inheritors and Walker Percy's Love in the Ruins, drew the attention of Peter S. Alterman for his research.

The possibilities for work in the area of science fiction are wide-ranging. One dissertation looked at science fiction as a para- religious experience in the works of Roger Zelazny, whil^hi; e another 17 examined the cult phenomenon of science fiction fandom. In terms of the varying societies presented, one writer has chosen to view anti-utopian elements of science fiction in the mid- 18 Twentieth Century, i.e. the "Golden Age." One woman elected to do a content analysis of paperback science fiction appearing in the 19 United States from 1945-70, in terms of projected societies. Obviously, neither of these mentioned Lem or his work, since his books were not translated until the 1970s. At least two studies have dealt with foreign science fiction, one 20 concerned with themes and motifs unique to Brazilian works and another looking at the theme of survival in the space-time continuum in German works. Although the research field includes a variety of topics, this production was, to the best of this author's knowledge, the first research conducted in the United States focusing on Stanislaw Lem or one of his works, either in the field of science fiction or readers theatre.

Oral Interpretation and Readers Theatre as Modes of Literary Study

. . . reading literature aloud deepens the reader's understanding of the text, for in giving it voice he experiences the writing more completely, more comprehensibly, than he does in silent reading. Not only must he discern and understand the atti­ tude of the author, but he must express that atti­ tude with his voice and body. In this sense, the oral reader reembodies the original speaker or the creator of the text. Not only must he recognize the tone of the poem, but he is stimulated to 22 reproduce the tone.

Probably from his earliest use of speech, man has been accustomed to living in acoustical space, giving shape and form to his thoughts, 23 feelings, and experiences through language. This shaping of the human experience was multi-sensory, involving sight and sound especially, but also touch, smell, and even taste on occasion—what has been termed the beginnings of the oral tradition. As printed materials became more widely available after the invention of move­ able type, and as the populace became generally more literate in those cultures using print, this oral tradition turned more and more to the experience of solitary, silent reading. Although both silent and oral reading may create metaworlds to which the reader responds, oral interpretation and readers theatre go beyond perceiving and analyzing the literary experience to re-creating that experience's 24 existence. The performing reader seeks to restore the experience 25 to what might be termed "poetic space." The processes of analysis and critical thought are not ends, but rather means to greater under­ standing:

Because his analysis ends in a reading, the student is usually motivated to make close analytical studies. He learns why, because he must teach him­ self why, a poem must be "torn apart." He is less likely to object that all his pleasure has been destroyed by "ripping the poem to shreds." He should learn through his readings that this object in which he takes pleasure is, after all, the con­ figuration of its parts. A teacher can always tell the student this, but the student by oral 26 readings can show and convince himself. This performance is not only beneficial for the reader, but also for the literature, in that it attains a more immediate form, and also for the audience, in that the performance expands the use of imagina­ 27 tion and broadens cultural and empathic growth. Leland H. Roloff describes the process thus:

He [the performer of literature] tries to give a presentational form to literature, to create a meta­ world so impinging, so alive, so real to the inner senses that the external world of the receiver is forgotten. In the effective performance of litera­ ture there is a sense of something being revealed; through the unique impact of sound and physical presence emanating from a performer, the perceiver senses an art form working upon and within him. What he sees and hears happening before him is both the literature and the performer attaining a_ state ^r u 4 28 of being.

A sampling of theses using readers theatre as a means of literary 29 study include those focusing on authors as diverse as Walt Whitman 30 31 and Ingmar Bergman. Others have looked at literature for children 32 and from the oral tradition. Another studied Mark Twain's 1884-85 reading tour, another Ken Kesey's One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, 35 and yet another John Knowles's A Separate Peace. e. e. cummings has 36 also been a popular subject. This smattering of theses is indica­ tive of the wide variety of areas of study open to the oral inter­ preter and to the director of readers theatre. The only limits are those set by his own experience and imagination.

Justification of the Study Given the use of readers theatre as a means of study which goes beyond the process of literary analysis to the embodiment of literary works, this study can be thought of as justifiable in terms of the 8 general compatibility of the field of science fiction with readers theatre as a presentational mode, particularly in the case of The Cyberiad. While some major points about the "fit" between science fiction and readers theatre as a suggestive rather than a portraitive medium will be made here, the discussion concerning the choice of The Cyberiad for performance will be handled in Chapter II, which looks at how Lem's work in general and The Cyberiad in particular were picked as the basis of this thesis. As previously mentioned in this chapter, the field of science fiction has been attracting attention within recent years. Scholes goes on in his essay on structural fabulation to postulate another reason for the growing fascination with this type of literature:

... in the past few decades fiction has begun . . . to dream new dreams, confident . . . that all dreams are true. It is fiction—verbal narrative—that must take the lead in such dreaming, because even the new representational media that have been spawned in this age cannot begin to match the speculative agility and imaginative freedom of wordsA .3 7

What cannot be done by the representational media such as tele­ vision and film is not necessarily a problem for the imaginative human mind. David Kyle thinks that this quality may account for the rising popularity:

Because science fiction is such a strange genre, blending abstract ideas with concrete manifesta­ tions, it is nearly always highly pictorial in quality, although very often it is the reader who is asked to conjure up in his own mind the details of the pictures in collaboration with the author's imagination. That is why the pictorial element in science fiction has so enormously captured the interest of today's public, just as the intellectual 38 content has proved so popular.

Although Kyle is speaking here primarily of the relationship between actual text and illustrations for books and/or magazines, the relationship of the illustrator is similar to the role of the oral interpreter; both are auxiliary artists whose responsibility is to portray the author's metaworld as closely as discernible. While an illustrator may have to content himself with one or two pictures with which to gain the silent reader's imaginative interaction, the people involved with performing in readers theatre present a series of sug­ gestive, rather than literally portraitive, "pictures," involving not only visual but also aural and other sensoiy cues to embody the literature and to stimulate the audience member's imaginetive inter­ action with that literature; in a special sense they "become" the literature and thereby an extension of its art. In writing his introduction to Tomorrow and Beyond, a volume of over three hundred works of science fiction and fantasy illustrations by more than sixty-five artists, editor Ian Summers discusses some of the goals of art based on science fiction and fantasy works:

What all the works have in common, besides a fondness for the themes and subject matter, is a sense of exploration. They transport us to fron­ tiers where nothing can be taken for granted; they offer us both a challenge and an invitation—a challenge to dispense with stale habits of thought, and an invitation to discover the joys of seeing the world and ourselves from a fresh perspective.

• • • Science fiction art, like, science fiction it­ self, assumes a special mission in training the imagination. Its strength comes from its attitude 10

toward the future: it is not afraid of technology, it is not afraid of change, it is not afraid of contemplating alternate views of reality. Some of the darker visions on the following pages are tes­ timony to the fact that science fiction is not "mere escapism." These artists recognize the destructive potential of man's creations. Even when the themes touch on nightmare, the mood stops just short of despair. If a single lesson can be extracted from this wealth of imagery, it is that nothing conceived of by the human mind is utterly , . 39 alien.

This excerpt also expresses many of the goals of oral interpreta­ tion and readers theatre: to explore the literature, to help gain new perspectives about the human experience, to enlarge the imagination, to help man find himself within even the strange. If the science fic­ tion artist chooses the conventional materials of illustration, the interpreter chooses a living medium through himself and/or readers theatre.

Statement of Problem Once The Cyberiad; Fables for the Cybernetic Age was chosen as the source for the script, the decision was made to look at two prob­ lems related to production. The first, and major, area would be the consideration of whether readers theatre would facilitate the pre­ sentation of mechanical beings whose attitudes, activities, and reactions to their world seem more human than machine-like, in the traditional sense, in such a way that the audience perceives both the cybernetic metaworld and its human values. Second, the enhancement of mythic elements common to fables through production elements related to the audience perception of time in the metaworld would be sought as a minor adjunct to the major area of study. 11

Methodology To facilitate research, the six-step method of qualitative problem-solving as outlined by Roloff in his text, The Perception and 40 Evocation of Literature, was chosen as a framework for this study. These six steps consist of confrontation, meditation, control, recog­ nition of structural dynamics, exploration, and completion. The application of that process forms the crux of Chapters III, IV, and V. Roloff's text served as a primary resource in directing this readers theatre production. Readers Theatre Handbook by Leslie Irene Coger and Melvin White was also used as a supplementary resource.

Summary of Chapters This chapter has set forth the background of this thesis, provided a justification of this study in terms of the compatibility of science fiction and readers theatre, stated the research problem, and outlined the methodology to be used in approaching that problem. The following chapters will look at the qualitative problem-solving process as it was applied to the area of research. Chapter II will present a brief biography of Stanislaw Lem and discuss his translated literary works and principle themes, as well as the reasoning behind the choice of The Cyberiad. The director's work in choosing the script, recruiting a cast, and helping the group in their early confrontation with that script form the basis of Chapter III, while Chapter IV will look at the group's work in devel­ oping the set, characterizations, blocking, costuming, and lighting. In Chapter V, the circumstances of the performances, methods of data collection, and a summary of audience reactions will be discussed. Chapter VI will summarize this work, give some conclusions about the research, and offer some possible areas for future study. Following the chapter will be appendices giving correspondence concerning this production, the script, the ground plan and elevation of the set, and the questionnaire distributed to members of the audi­ ence. 12

Notes for Chapter 1^

Robert Scholes and Eric S. Rabkin, Science Fiction: Science, History, Vision (New York: Oxford University Press, 1977), p. 71. 2 Robert Scholes, Structural Fabulation: An Essay on Fiction of the Future (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 1975), p. 47. 3 Lahna Faga Diskin, "Teaching and Reading Science Fiction in College," Diss. University of Michigan 1975. 4 Scholes, Structural Fabulation, p. 49. Ursula K. Le Guin, "Science Fiction and Mrs. Brown," in Science Fiction at Large, ed. Peter Nicholls (New York: Harper and Row, 1976), p. 32.

Sam Joseph Siciliano, "The Fictional Universe in Four Science Fiction Novels: Anthony Burgess' A Clockwork Orange, Ursula Le Guin's The Word for World is Forest, Walter Miller's A Canticle for Leibowitz, and Roger Zelazny's Creatures of Light and Darkness," Diss. University of Iowa 1975.

Bruce Randall Cook, "Science, Fiction, and Film: A Study of the Interaction of Science, Science Fiction Literature, and the Growth of Cinema," Diss. University of Southern California 1976.

Q Norman Spinrad, ed., Modern Science Fiction (Garden City: Anchor Press/Doubleday, 1974), p. 3. 9 Scholes, Structural Fabulation, pp. 41-42. Nancy Whyte Lewis, "Lawrence Durrell's Alexandria Quartet and the Rendering of Post-Einsteinian Space," Diss. University of Wiscon­ sin-Madison 1976.

Samuel Holmes Vasbinder, "Scientific Attitudes in Mary Shelley's Frankenstein: Newtonian Monism as a Basis for the Novel," Diss. Kent State University 1976. 12 Thomas Michael Kirlin, "H. G. Wells and the Geometric Imagina­ tion: A Study of Three Science Fiction Novels in the Nineties," Diss. University of Iowa 1974. 13 Donald George Jackson, "The Changing Myth of Frankenstein: A Historical Analysis of a Myth, Technology, and Society," Diss. Univer­ sity of Texas-Austin 1974. 13

14 Jennie Ora Marriott Dailey, "Modern Science Fiction," Diss. University of Utah 1974. Peter Steven Alterman, "A Study of Four Science Fiction Themes and Their Function in Two Contemporary Novels," Diss. University of Denver 1974.

John Rothfork, "New Wave Science Fiction Considered as a Popular Religious Phenomenon: A Definition and an Example," Diss. University of New Mexico 1973.

Beverly Oberfeld Friend, "The Science Fiction Fan Cult," Diss. Northwestern University 1975. 18 Harold Lynde Berger, "Anti-utopian Science Fiction of the Mid- Twentieth Century," Diss. University of Tennessee 1970. 19 Eleanor Evelyn Huebner Brock, "Projected Societies in American Science Fiction, 1945-1970," Diss. Ohio State University 1976. 20 David Lincoln Dunbar, "Unique Motifs in Brazilian Science Fiction," Diss. University of Arizona 1976. 21 Alice Carol Garr, "German Science Fiction: Variations on the Theme of Survival in the Space-Time Continuum," Diss. University of North Carolina-Chapel Hill 1973. 22 Leslie Irene Coger and Melvin R. White, Readers Theatre Hand­ book, rev. ed. (Glenview: Scott, Foresman and Company, 1973), pp. 10- 11. 23 For a discussion of the oral tradition and its role in and influence on oral interpretation from the time of Classical Greece to Nineteenth Century America, see Eugene Bahn and Margaret L. Bahn, A History of Oral Interpretation (Minneapolis: Burgess Publishing Company, 1970). 0/ Leland H. Roloff, The Perception and Evocation of Literature (Glenview: Scott, Foresman and Company, 1973), p. 17. ^^ Leland H. Roloff, "Living in Poetic Space," Address, Mid­ western State University, Wichita Falls, Texas, April 1, 1977. 26 Don Geiger, The Sound, Sense, and Performance of Literature (Glenview: Scott, Foresman and Company, 1963), p. 16. 27 Coger and White, pp. 6-8 28 Roloff, Perception and Evocation, p. 17. 14

29 Donna R. Tobias, "A Pluralistic Approach to Walt Whitman's 'Song of the Open Road' for the Oral Interpreter: Explicative, Archetypal, and Rhetorical Analyses," Thesis University of Houston 1972. 30 Karen Spadacine, "An Analysis of a Screenplay for a Chamber Theatre Adaptation and Presentation: Ingmar Bergman's Smiles of a_ Summer Night," Thesis University of South Florida 1972. 31 Mary B. Greenway, "The Wind in the Willows: A Chamber Theatre Production for Children," Thesis University of Texas-Austin 1972. 32 Barbara Kerr, "An Oral Interpretation Program of Selected Navaho Literature," Thesis North Texas State University 1974. 33 Sandra N. Boyce, "A Readers Theatre Production Reflecting a Study of the 1884-85 Reading Tour of Mark Twain," Thesis University of North Carolina 1971. - 34 Irene K. Shipman, "Chamber Theatre Production of Ken Kesey's One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest," Thesis University of Maryland-College Park 1972. 35 Mary Lee Heslop, "Readers Theatre: Production of John Knowles' Novel: A Separate Peace," Thesis University of Utah 1972. 36 Three examples of theses dealing with e. e. cummings are Harolyn W. Crouch, "A Reader's Theatre Production of Selected Works of E. E. Cummings," Thesis University of Cincinnati 1972; Larry G. Capo, "'Only Dead People Don't Cry,' A Creative Thesis (A Chamber Theatre Production of e. e. cummings)," Thesis Central Michigan Uni­ versity 1972; and James R. Rambo, "A Readers Theatre Production Evolved From E. E. Cummings: A Creative-Critical Study," Thesis Texas Tech University 1974. 37 Scholes, Structural Fabulation, p. 38. 38 David Kyle, A Pictorial History of Science Fiction (New York: Hamlyn Publishing Group Limited, 1976), pp. 10-11. 39 Ian Summers, ed., Tomorrow and Beyond: Masterpieces of Science

Fiction Art (New York: Workman Publishing Company, Inc., 1978), p. 9.

Roloff, Perception and Evocation, pp. 23-24. CHAPTER II

LEM'S LIFE AND LITERATURE

This chapter will examine some of the problems inherent in work­ ing with translations, particularly when those using the text cannot read the original language. Then a brief biography of Lem will be presented, followed by an overview of his works available in English translation at the time of this production. Third, a discussion of Lem's major themes and motifs will be presented. Finally, the ration­ ale for the selection of -the stories for this readers theatre produc­ tion will be examined.

Difficulties in Working with Translations In seeking material for performance, the interpreter/director faces a number of challenges. It is imperative that the material chosen awaken a sense of empathically and psychically shared experi­ ence, or what Roloff terms a "sense of resonance." For performance, the literature should also evoke a sense of acoustic space, of having an oral and aural voice. The performer must transform that sense of resonance and aurality into behavioral cues, which should then trans­ form the literature into an unfolding process to promote "a sense of inevitability of experience from the symbols of feeling inherent in 2 the printed word." The translator faces much the same task. Thus, a performer unfamiliar with the original language must find a translator who feels the same responsibility toward the literature that he himself does. The translator must realize that his work is an act of love, a re-awakening of a voice within the literature, as well as a kind of transformation involving the living aspects of the literature which allow the experience to move from one language to another, from one

15 16

3 culture to another. Often, when only one translation of a work is available, the interpreter must seek elsewhere for material—although the original work may have received much critical praise—because of problems with the translation, arising from either lack of skill, or sensitivity, on the part of the translator. The late James Blish touched on this problem in his review of Lem's The Invincible. In the following quotation from that review, the two translations under consideration are one published in the United States by Seabury Press, 1973, by Wendayne Ackerman, and the other published in the United Kingdom by Sidgwick and Jackson, 1973, by an unknown translator:

Worth reading—but which edition to read? . . . Confusion is created by the Seabury's text's divi­ sion into 11 chapters, whereas the U. K. version has 13. These chapters are titled, the titles dif­ fer, and there is no way to tell which, if any, were Lem's (except perhaps, by observing that four are identical in each edition). I prefer Mrs. Ackerman's and her way of dividing the text. I am sorry to have to say that my admiration for her version stops there. She was working from a 1967 East Berlin edition. Sidgwick and Jackson offer no such data—though from a line-by-line comparison, I would guess that their source was the same one, not the original Polish— nor do they give their translator a name. This is unfair, for he (?) has done the better job. . . . More often than not, on a given sentence the two agree, word for word. However, whenever confronted with one of those complex structures which German grammar makes possible and even sometimes admirable, Mrs. Ackerman chooses to translate it literally; 17

whereas Anonymous condenses it into English, gain­ ing force and poetry yet with no sacrifice of mean- . 4 ing.

Ursula K. Le Guin concludes her review of The Invincible by also lamenting the fact that the edition available is from the German as opposed to the Polish original, since "connoisseurs of the originals assure me that they have lost much of their texture, style, and impact." Fortunately, Michael Kandel, who produced the translation of The Cyberiad used in this presentation, is a translator who is both skill­ ful and responsible. Furthermore, he is able to work from the Polish originals, bringing his readers that much closer to the source. Le Guin, a very accomplished writer who has won critical acclaim for her own science fiction books, commenting on an anthology of European science fiction, says:

. . . any Lem seems to be worth reading; and . . . "In Hot Pursuit of Happiness" gives some foretaste of the zany wit of The Cyberiad . . . and a sample of Michael Kendel's [sic] superb translation.

Kandel's work with The Cyberiad retains the variety of tones and textures praised in the original, evoking both the solemnity which is never far from the surface in Lem and the delight in verbal play which leavens that solemnity. Kandel has translated more of Lem's fiction for publication in the United States than anyone else, with seven titles. His talents solve a number of the difficulties that arise when an interpreter seeks to use a translation. His version of the mathematical love poem from "Trurl's Electronic Bard" retains not only the mere use of mathematical terms in a verse format, but also the aural sense of poetry so important to that piece's success as satire. This example is typical of his skill in bringing The Cyberiad to the English language. 18

Brief Biography of Lem The little information about Lem's life is derived from a few prefaces and notes by Kandel and by Darko Suvin.^ Lem was born in 1921—the same year that Karel Capek's R.U.R. appeared—in Lwow, Poland. Although Lem has published an autobiography concerning his youth and adolescence. High Castle, it has yet to be translated into English and little of this information is available to the general reader at present. Lem began medical studies, but they were interrupted by the outbreak of World War II. During the Occupation, he worked as a mechanic and welder, once narrowly escaping execution by the Nazis. In 1948, he was finally able to complete his medical studies at the Jagellonian University, Cracow. There Lem also became interested in popular science and the philosophy of science, especially the area of cybernetics. He was able to gain access to Western books on these topics. Upon completion of his studies, Lem decided to write, rather than to practice medicine. With the appearance of The Astronauts in 1951, Lem became known as a writer of science fiction and fantastic literature. According to Kandel's information, since serious literature in Poland has tradi­ tionally dealt with social and political problems, Lem's early works were largely ignored by the critics, who considered them primarily for young people; if any critics did notice the commentary on Polish society inherent in these writings, they may have felt that it was too pointed for public discussion. Lem quickly became popular among the scientific community, how­ ever. This popularity spread first to the Soviet Union and eventually led to Andrei Tarkovsky's film of Solaris. This film, in turn, spurred interest in Western countries when it was released with sub­ titles by Curzon Cinema in May, 1973. This release sparked a flurry of publishing activity in the United States, so that nine of Lem's books, as well as a handful of short stories in two anthologies of European science fiction, had been translated and published here by early 1978. 19

Meanwhile, according to Kandel, Lem continued to write philo­ sophical essays using the cybernetic perspective to examine the cul­ tural impact and moral implications of advances in modern technology and science, as well as essays in literary criticism and epistemology, Although several of Lem's works of fiction have appeared in transla­ tion since this readers theatre presentation, most of his major works in these areas, with the exceptions of a few brief articles, remain untranslated for the general reader.

Lem's Works Lem's prose employs a wide range of tone and genre even in the relatively small sample available in translation at the time of this 9 production. Kandel remarks:

As an author his range of genres is remarkably broad, and he is highly innovative too, so that much of his work is difficult to classify by genre. Still, it might be useful to apply the following simplifica­ tion and say that Lem has written in basically three different modes: (1) realistic science fic­ tion, (2) comic-satirical fantasy, and (3) phil- osophy.

The above division of Lem's work will be adopted in this discus­ sion in order to facilitate comparisons of his books. The short stories from the anthologies will be excluded from consideration, since they consist of two Ion Tichy stories from Star Diaries, one cybernetic fable similar to those in The Cyberiad, and one of the Pirx the Pilot stories (which falls into the category of realistic science fiction) from Other Worlds, Other Seas; and one Trurl and Klapaucius story in View from Another Shore. These stories can be considered part of the larger collections concerning these characters and, as such, do not seem to require separate reflection. 20

In the area of realistic science fiction, two books had been translated by early 1978: Solaris (1961; New York: Berkley Publish­ ing Corporation, 1971), and The Invincible (1964; New York: Ace, 1975). Although both books deal with traditional "hard-core" science fiction themes and methods, they are exceedingly original in their treatments of them. Le Guin points out some of the most impor­ tant differences between the two and a striking similarity, in her review of The Invincible:

. . . Solaris is, at first glance anyway, a rather forbidding book; while Invincible is an irresistable one. Solaris is allusive, elusive, ironic, complex; Invincible is straightforward, active, a classic adventure in the technological mode. Solaris is introverted. Invincible extraverted. But they are, in their very different ways and weights, about the same thing.

But what exactly are the two books about? Solaris centers on a young psychologist, Kris Kelvin, who is sent to the research satellite, Solaris. Something has gone badly awry, leaving only two survivors. What Kelvin confronts there is a deep mystery, in many ways a psycho­ logical and psychic labyrinth, as he eventually discovers that the planet itself has achieved sentience through its ocean and is seeking knowledge through manipulations of the survivors and Kelvin: a situ­ ation which has driven the majority of the personnel there into mad­ ness and death. The story is told with great beauty, poetry, and psychological depth, although no clear resolution is presented. The pattern of Solaris is typical of Lem: an awesome mystery is presented; various theories are advanced concerning the nature of the mystery; the protagonist, often facing physical hardship, attempts to solve the mystery; and finally, the protagonist confronts the mystery, not necessarily gaining resolution, but receiving an intuitive insight into both the enigma and the human condition: 21

It is as if the door were flung open and we, expect­ ing a terribly inhuman face, beheld instead our own reflection in a mirror."'"^

This pattern also holds true in The Invincible, although this novel is more typical of traditional interstellar adventure. On its face. The Invincible is the story of an expedition sent to a planet to discover why the first landing party did not return. The expedition must eventually piece together an entire history and evolution of the planet, which, strangely enough, has taken a cybernetic turn. Kandel's first experience with Lem's work was with this book, while he was a graduate student; he found the book absorbing, challenging, and sur­ prising in many ways. Writing of his expectations for a neat con­ clusion which explained everything, he says:

It did not turn out that way. Not only did the Earthmen have to beat an ignominious retreat . . . but the brilliant hypothesis that "explained every­ thing" turned out to be, finally, no answer. Lem's 14 answer was, rather: Look within. Reflect.

A third novel. The Investigation (1959, 1969; New York: Avon, 1976) is similar in structure, but is not clearly science fiction. Lt. Gregory of Scotland Yard investigates a number of cases which may be anything from bodysnatching to resurrections. Numerous possibili­ ties for solutions are presented, but no clear answer is given. Lem encourages his reader to seek within himself for possibilities beyond the physical realities of this world. These three books, two clearly in the science fiction category and one very similar, comprise Lem's realistic science fiction avail­ able in April, 1978. More of Lem's available works fall into the mode of comic- satirical fantasies: The Star Diaries (New York: Avon, 1977); The Futurological Congress (1971; New York: Avon, 1976); Memoirs Found in 22 a Bathtub (1961; New York: Avon, 1976); The Cyberiad (1967, 1972; New York: Avon, 1976), and Mortal Engines (1971-76; New York: The Seabury Press, 1977). Lem's most frequently translated work is The Star Diaries, which began appearing in 1954. Lem continues to add to the cycle, with the last expanded edition published in 1971. The stories deal with an incredible variety of adventures and misadventures of a cosmic traveller. Ion Tichy, and feature the grotesque humor which is so much a part of The Cyberiad. When examined chronologically, the stories illustrate Lem's gradual blurring of modes as they move, over the course of time, from "playful anecdote to pointed satire to outright philosophy." Tichy is also the protagonist of The Futurological Congress. In many ways, this is an extended "star diary," but takes place on Earth rather than in space or on another planet. The Congress itself takes place in Costa Rica, where revolution is raging, complete with chemical warfare; Love Thy Neighbor bombs fall like rain, and the drinking water may contain virtually any psycho-chemical depending on who has control of the given situation. Tichy travels through a deep sleep into the era of "chemocracy," where everyone gets just what he wants aided by hallucinogenic drugs. The book follows the typical Lem pattern, but in a comic mode: Tichy finds himself first in an incom­ prehensible revolution, then almost instantly (in his psychological perceptions) in the chemocracy; he faces certain physical dangers as he tries to make sense of what is happening, including jabs from an umbrella as an antidote to a particular drug; but in the end, Tichy's resolution is one that the reader must find within himself. Memoirs Found in a Bathtub also contains elements of this formula. When a virus threatens to destroy all paper, American bureaucracy moves to a hermetically-sealed underground structure. "The Building" is a nest of espionage and intrigue against an enemy which cannot be empirically proven. The protagonist confronts this situation and tries to infuse it with logic, braving the perils of a bureaucracy gone mad as he tries to discover his mission. The people he encounters seem 23 to know what he is to do, but will give him no idea what it is, although he is continually outwitting and being outwitted it seems. Finally driven into madness by this insane system, he commits suicide. Even though there are numerous incidents of wild satire. Memoirs is perhaps the grimmest of Lem's novels. Returning to satire somewhat lighter in mood. The Cyberiad con­ cerns the rival cybernetic constructors, Trurl and Klapaucius, and their creations. Although robots themselves, the constructors are highly complex, sophisticated, self-programming organisms. This complexity assures consciousness, and this consciousness is, in turn, unique and irreplaceable: if anything should happen to destroy Trurl and Klapaucius, they would never exist again, just as if they were truly of the human race. Consciousness is at the heart of the matter for Lem: a conscious machine has both the same rights and the same responsibilities as conscious man. This idea is the basis for ethics in Lem's work, enabling his robots to project characters that are both cybernetic and human. Kandel comments:

Time and again Lem departs for the alien and the nonhuman, and we follow him only to find that humanity was the destination all along. Which does not mean that the sense of strangeness is lost. On the contrary, by taking the extraterrestrial or cybernetic route Lem has opened our eyes anew to the Mysteries of the human condition. But those Mysteries have always been there, writers and philosophers have fretted over them for generations. . . . And therefore we are drawn to read his tales of robots not literally but as parables. . . . However, to treat Lem's cybernetics in these stories as a literary vehicle, as purely figurative, seems somehow unsatisfying, too ordinary; it ignores the fact that there is a framework of very real science (or rather, of very real scientific 24

speculation) behind what the characters do and say. . . . The objection might be raised here that one cannot have it both ways: either Lem's robots are to be taken literally, in which case the above remarks on cybernetics have pertinence, or the robots are merely novel and entertaining projec­ tions of ourselves, of age-old human problems, in which case most of this ... is quite beside the point. My own feeling is that in literature one not only can have it both ways, but often must.

This duality of Lem's robots implies the question at the crux of this thesis: can such characters be presented in such a way so that the audience perceives both sides of their natures, machine and human? A more thorough examination of this question will be found in Chapters III and IV, discussing the evolution of the production. Many of the same comments apply to the final book in this second category. Mortal Engines. It contains more of Lem's robot stories, although Trurl and Klapaucius do not appear. The stories bear many similarities to The Cyberiad, being fables and tales about and perhaps even for cybernetic organisms. There is the same kind of wit and verbal play with glimpses of the more serious undertones inherent in Lem's approach to cybernetics. Again, the characters are afforded the same rights as a truly human, responsible man. Thus, Lem's range, even within the same type of mode, in this case, the comic-satirical fantasy, varies from the light, playful anecdotes of the early Tichy to the stark madness of Memoirs Found in a_ Bathtub. In the third category of philosophy, virtually nothing is avail­ able in translation. Kandel, however, summarizes some of the main points of Dialogues (1957, expanded 1972) in his introduction to Mortal EnginesEn . Based on that summary, the following points can be inferred: 25

1. Man can be duplicated atom for atom, but his consciousness cannot be; therefore, individual con­ sciousness is the one thing that is irreplaceable and unrepeatable. 2. This consciousness is all the more fragile since it can so easily be terminated by a vast, indif­ ferent, random Universe; therefore, consciousness, not life, is sacred. 3. When a machine is sufficiently complex to develop consciousness, it becomes the equal of the conscious man and acquires the same privileges and obligations; therefore, the creator of a conscious machine can no longer consider such a machine his property, and it becomes an autonomous being.

Other than this summary, and a few isolated mentions of untrans­ lated titles, none of Lem's major philosophical writings are available in translation in the United States at this time. It must be empha­ sized again, however, that the distinctions between the three modes are very loose and that virtually every work contains elements of all three. As Kandel puts it:

There is fiction in his nonfiction; there is non- fiction in his fiction. Mythos and Logos alternate so frequently with Lem, that they are inextricable one from the other. 18

These diverse factors tend to create an exciting challenge for the performer of literature. Language used in any of the three modes may be dense, not only in unfamiliar scientific terminology and description, but also in philosophical depth and psychological experience. Conveying these elements to an audience relies on a com­ plex layering of factors to hold the audience member's attention and to motivate his reflection. 26

Lem uses a number of techniques to ensure his reader's attention to his themes. The following section will examine those themes and techniques in more detail.

Lem's Major Themes and Techniques While Lem writes in a wide variety of styles and modes, he tends to focus on a few basic ideas. Kandel sums up Lem's work:

. . . his various works are frequently intercon­ nected; themes, situations, even plots are repeated. The overall impression one gets in reading Lem . . . is that he is a writer of great diversity of style and yet one who examines (or is haunted by, or both) 19 only a few fundamental ideas.

One of Lem's recurring themes is: the Laws of Nature are vile in their senselessness, because intelligent beings are inevitably made to suffer and die; consciousness, therefore, implies suffering. This theme is perhaps more obvious in works such as Solaris and The Invincible, than in the three stories from The Cyberiad chosen for this reading. Yet, this theme has a corollary: the cybernetic creation of intelligence brings great guilt on the part of the creator, since consciousness, inherent in intelligence, implies suffering. In each of the three tales, Trurl, and eventually Klapaucius as well, must face the consequences for Trurl's creation of the machines. This topic will be discussed in more detail in the next section of this paper. Another common motif is the innocence of Lem's robots. In writing of one of Lem's human heroes, Kandel states that he has a 20 "civilized heart." Throughout Lem's robot stories, the robot is seen as a victim of man, as more human, and humane, than man himself. This quality is seen in Trurl and Klapaucius to some extent. There is no real malice in their ideas, although they are not above envy. 27 and the regret they feel when things get out of hand is real. The regret is not so much for themselves and their reputations, in the final analysis, as for the loss of the worches, pritons, and zits. Lem also emphasizes the impossibility of a final solution. Again, this emphasis is perhaps more obvious in Solaris, The Invincible, and The Investigation, but these fables touch upon it. Each one of Trurl's machines creates more problems than it solves, giving rise to situations that demand new solutions: there is no final answer. Last, Lem returns again and again to man's confrontation and adjustment to "alien" forms of intelligence and society. The best and most obvious examples are yet again Solaris and The Invincible, but some of the stories from Star Diaries, as well as some aspects of The Investigation, mirror this concern. It might even be said that Trurl and Klapaucius cope with alien forms of intelligence as they confront each new machine. These ideas: that consciousness is suffering and that the cybernetic creation of that consciousness brings guilt; that robots are basically innocent and, in many ways, more human than man; that no final solution is possible; and that man will confront and adjust to new forms of sentience and society, seem to be the principle ones in Lem's prose. The Cyberiad clearly reflects these preoccupations in its own way.

Reasons for Choosing The Cyberiad Selections As mentioned above, the three selections chosen from The Cyberiad reflect most of Lem's major themes. This reflection of themes was one reason for their use in this readers theatre, but there are addi­ tional reasons. The three tales, "Trurl's Machine," "Trurl's Electronic Bard," and "How the World Was Saved," are basically the same story, told in slightly different fashion, and thus mirror Lem's return to the same themes, plots, and situations. At its most simple level, each story consists of Trurl's construction of a machine, the disruption/ destruction which results from that creation, and the means for 28 averting total disaster, although some form of payment is exacted. Lem's variety of treatments give freshness to the situation each time. For the production, the stories are rearranged from their pub­ lished order to move from the broader, farcical "Trurl's Machine" to the more refined, verbal "Trurl's Electronic Bard" to the more subtle, cosmic "How the World Was Saved." This arrangement leads from a per­ sonal threat against Trurl to a disruption of society at large to a possibility of universal destruction. In addition, the language of each piece suggests a slightly different style of presentation. "Trurl's Machine" uses fairly simple language and syntax, with its descriptions suggesting the broader movements of slapstick: "It's seven! Say it's seven or I'll hit you!" The writing in the second piece employs more technical terms and more elegant sentence structure suitable to a more restrained approach than used for "Trurl's Machine": "In Riemann, Hilbert, or in Banach space/ Let superscripts and subscripts go their ways." The style of the third tale, "How the World Was Saved," implies very little movement, but a great deal of imaginative involvement as pieces of the constructors' universe dis­ appear forever: "... the machine was in actual fact doing Nothing, and it did it in this fashion: one by one, various things were removed from the world, and the things, thus removed, ceased to exist, as if they had never been. The machine had already disposed of nolars, nightzebs, noes, necs, nallyrakers, neotremes and non- malrigers. ..." Thus, the fables afford the chance to use three slightly different approaches to interpretation within the same per­ formance, as the pieces move from the most physical to the most mental. This movement also provides a way for the audience members to "ease" into Lem's works, which may be difficult to understand because of terminology and psychological density. The stories, therefore, chosen for their convergence of themes, repetition of motifs and situations, and logical progression, were designed to give the audience a brief glimpse of as many aspects of Lem's writing as possible in such a short production. 29

Summary This chapter has examined, not only the problems of working with literature in translation, but also Lem's principle works available in translation in the United States in the spring of 1978 and their primary themes and motifs. Finally, some considerations in choosing the particular fables presented were discussed. Chapter III will look at the process involved in making those choices and in developing a script, assembling a cast, and beginning initial group work with that script. 30

Notes for Chapter II 1 Roloff, Perception and Evocation, p. 16. 2 Roloff, Perception and Evocation, p. 18. 3 Paul Schmidt, "Literature in Translation," Address, University of Texas, Austin, June 11, 1974. 4 James Blish, "A Surfeit of Lem, Please?", Foundation, 4 (July 1973), p. 96.

Ursula K. Le Guin, "European SF: Rottensteiner's Anthology, the Strugatskys, and Lem," Science-Fiction Studies, 1 (Spring 1974), p. 185.

Le Guin, p. 182.

The majority of the available biographical information about Lem comes from his collection Mortal Engines, trans. Michael Kandel (New York: The Seabury Press, 1977), pp. xv-xvi; although some is from Darko Suvin, ed., Other Worlds, Other Seas (New York: Berkley Medallion Books, 1970), pp. 39-40.

Q Four stories can be found in Suvin, pp. 40-106; one is con­ tained in Franz Rottensteiner, ed.. View From Another Shore (New York: Jove Publications, Inc., 1978), pp. 21-67. 9 Since April of 1978, a number of Lem's books have appeared, including The Chain of Chance, trans. Louis Iribarne (New York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1979); The Cosmic Carnival of Stanislaw Lem, trans, and ed. Michael Kandel (New York: Continuum Publishing Corporation, 1981); Memoirs of a Space Traveller, trans. Joel Stem and Maria Sweicicka-Zielmianek (New York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1982); More Tales of Pirx the Pilot, trans. Louis Iribarne (New York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1981); A Perfect Vacuum, trans. Michael Kandel (New York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1979); Return from the Stars, trans. Barbara Marzal and Frank Simpson (New York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1980); and Tales of Pirx the Pilot, trans. Louis Iribarne (New York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1979). Lem, Mortal Engines, pp. xvi-xvii.

Date of the original publication is given first, followed by information about an edition available in the United States. 12 Le Guin, p. 183. 31

13 Lem, Mortal Engines, p. xxi. 14 Lem, Cosmic Carnival, p. 2.

Lem, Star Diaries, p. 320.

Lem, Mortal Engines, pp. xxi-xxii.

Lem, Mortal Engines, pp. xx-xxi. 18 Lem, Cosmic Carnival, p. 250. 19 Lem, Mortal Engines, p. xvii. 20 Lem, Cosmic Carnival, p. 45. 32

CHAPTER III

CONFRONTATION, MEDITATION, CONTROL AND RECOGNITION OF THE STRUCTURAL DYNAMICS OF THE LITERATURE

The outline of qualitative problem-solving found in Roloff's textbook was utilized as a general approach to formulating the pro­ duction. This process includes the steps of: 1) confrontation; 2) meditation; 3) control; 4) recognition of structural dynamics; 5) exploration; and 6) completion. This chapter will first discuss the initial four steps prior to assembling the cast and then the mechanics of establishing that cast. Finally, the involvement of the group in the qualitative problem- solving process will be examined.

Director's Role: Confrontation Perhaps one of the most difficult decisions facing any inter­ preter/director is the choice of script for performance. Many factors influence the final selection. This section will examine those factors which led to this particular script of The Cyberiad. As a point of departure, the broad field of science (or specu­ lative) fiction was chosen, for three main reasons. First, science fiction, when well-written, is ideally suited to readers theatre, since it often presents vivid scenes in strange or unusual circum­ stances coupled with memorable characters and thought-provoking 2 ideas. A prime example of this is Dune by Frank Herbert. This novel, part of a longer series, focuses on Paul Atreides and his rise to power among the fremen of the desert on the sandy world of Arrakis. From the description of the coming of the giant sand-worms to that of the funeral rites among the fremen, Herbert's prose is masterful and moving, an example of excellent writing. Herbert manages to examine the nature of power and its ability to corrupt as well. 33

The second and third reasons were of a more practical nature. Due to the concurrent popularity of the movie Star Wars, science fiction was seen as a good box office risk. Finally, the director, intrigued for several years by the literary creation of metaworlds dissimilar to the contemporary world, had a good personal backgroimd in reading and working with science fiction of a more speculative nature. Given science fiction as a starting point, a set of three essen­ tial, and one desirable, criteria were developed for selecting litera­ ture. Because of her own interest in metaworlds, the director first established that the literature must present imaginatively an interesting world or society, whose characters retained enough basically human motivations to enable the readers and audience to respond easily to them and their situations. Second, the situation the characters faced must be, not only interesting, but also a means of understanding the characters them­ selves, their motivations, and their society. This consideration was also related to the idea of audience and reader responsiveness. Third, the language of the work also needed to be intriguing aurally through syntax, style, rhythm, and/or poetic quality. These qualities were deemed especially important for readers theatre, which features narration as well as dialogue. These three characteristics seemed essential. In addition, the director preferred to work with material which featured humor and/or a slightly off-beat approach. These elements seem to provide addi­ tional challenge for the readers, as well as encouraging an experi­ mental approach to the material. With these ideas in mind, the director began reviewing science fiction novels and short stories in order to prepare a script. About the same time she happened to read Lem's Memoirs Found in a_ Bathtub for pleasure. The author's style showed promise in the areas con­ sidered essential for the production. The following of Lem's books were eventually considered: four novels. The Investigation, Solaris, 34

The Invincible, and The Futurological Congress; and two short story collections. The Star Diaries and The^ Cyberiad.

Director's Role: Meditation At this point there were seven options for a script. Each of the seven contained the three essential elements: an intriguing metaworld with interesting characters whose behavior offered insight into both their own and general human motivations, told in richly descriptive language. In addition, all but two, Solaris and The Invincible, con­ tained at least flashes of humor, although that humor was often grim. However, practical considerations ruled out all except two of the books. The novels presented a common problem in cutting. Given a time limit of 30-40 minutes for this readers theatre production, the director felt that the novels as a group were too complex to be edited in a fashion which would retain their essential qualities. Memoirs Found in a_ Bathtub, as a typical example, would lose many of the incidents which contribute to the protagonist's growing sense of frustration and futility. In light of these cuts, his suicide would be both abrupt and diminished in meaning, leaving the audience merely puzzled rather than thoughtful. This same type of problem was also inherent in The Investigation, The Invincible, and Solaris. Solaris, the book most readily accessible to the average reader through bookstores at that time, had also been made into a theatrical film. This film might have interfered with obtaining the rights to use Solaris for readers theatre. As well as presenting problems in cutting. The Futurological Congress depended on the very subjective experiences of a first-person narrator which seemed to suggest either a solo reading or a prominent reader backed by a small chorus. After reviewing the available readers, their abilities, and their other commitments in terms of classes and work schedules, the director decided that focusing on a more equally-distributed ensemble approach would be wiser at that par­ ticular time and reluctantly ruled out The Futurological Congress. 35

These decisions left two options: The Star Diaries and The Cyber­ iad. Diaries also used a first person narrator, but could be arranged for an ensemble. Most of the available readers, however, would be facing their first performance outside the classroom in this produc­ tion. Given this inexperience, the use of first-person narration by an ensemble might be better handled by a more experienced group. The Cyberiad also held lures of its own, rather than simply being what was left. Many of the stories were bright, witty, and humorous, although often with a thought-provoking message. Trurl was a strong protagonist with interesting foils in Klapaucius and their creations. Each character was capable of observing and commenting on the action from his point of view. This combination seemed quite suitable to the ensemble approach intended. Additionally, the fact that both constructors and creations were mechanical presented a problem of duality: could human readers present both the alien aspects of the constructors and their society while also emphasizing their very human motivations?

Director's Role: Determination of Control and Structural Dynamics This section will look at the reasons for choosing the three stories used in this readers theatre presentation and review the rationale for their arrangement. There are fifteen tales in The Cyberiad. Two of these stories, "Tale of Three Storytelling Machines of King Genius" and "Altruizine" are rather long and were eliminated by the decision to try to showcase several of Lem's diverse styles and modes. A third story, "Prince Ferrix and the Princess Crystal," is not a Trurl and Klapaucius story and was not considered further after the focus on the constructors' activities was chosen as a key point in the scripting process. "The Fourth Sally, or How Trurl Built a Femfatalatron to Save Prince Pantagoon from the Pangs of Love, and How Later He Resorted to a Cannonade of Babies" and "The Fifth Sally (A), or Trurl's Prescription" were discarded for a similar reason, since Klapaucius does not appear in either story. 36

The remaining stories fall into two basic groups: those in which Trurl and Klapaucius work together to solve a social problem or to extricate themselves from an extreme danger, and those in which their creations get out of control and have to be corrected. In the first group is "The First Sally, or The Trap of Gargantius," in which the constructors bring about peace between two hostile kingdoms through an ingenious method. "The Second Sally, or The Offer of King Krool" is the story of how the pair devise an unusual quarry for the hunter- king by having the beast kidnap King Krool and hold him for ransom, saving their own lives. "The Sixth Sally, or How Trurl and Klapaucius Created a Demon of the Second Kind to Defeat the Pirate Pugg," relates how the two friends build a machine which can divine the knowledge of the ages from random collisions of air molecules to satisfy an insatiable wish for information by the pirate with a Ph.D., thereby ridding the universe of Pugg's terrorizations when he is engulfed by the vast quantities of paper printed out by the demon. A variation of this category is found in "The Third Sally, or The Dragons of Probability." Trurl devises a set of equations deal­ ing with the relative probability and improbability of dragons, but someone else uses this information to cause dragons to begin appearing, and then to extort vast sxims to make the dragons disappear. Obviously, Trurl and Klapaucius must rescue society from such an assault. In the second group besides the three stories ultimately selected, is "The Fifth Sally, or The Mischief of King Balerion," in which a personality transfer device constructed by Trurl causes havoc in the hands of a fun-loving king whose passion is hide-and-seek. "The Seventh Sally, or How Trurl's Own Perfection Led to No Good" relates how Trurl proves himself such a good constructor that he not only simulates a kingdom for a despotic exiled king, but unwittingly cre­ ates that kingdom and its inhabitants, causing untold misery. A final story, "A Good Shellacking," falls into neither category. In it, Trurl's creation brings misery primarily to himself, at the hands of Klapaucius. 37

Having elected to feature the two constructors, the decision was made to focus on their creations becoming an opposing force. The three stories chosen for the script are the only ones which present Trurl's creations with distinctive personalities. Given these per­ sonalities, a choral relationship for the machine/narrators as opposed to the two constructors as individuals becomes possible. Thus, these three stories were selected. Once the fables were chosen, the order in which they appeared in the book did not seem appropriate for this presentation. That order gives no clear impression of a beginning or an ending, since "How the World Was Saved" was followed by "Trurl's Machine" and "The First Sally (A), or Trurl's Electronic Bard." Therefore, some other arrangement had to be achieved for the production to have a sense of drmaatic unity. First, part of "The Trap of Gargantius" was lifted and slightly adapted to provide a less abrupt opening for the show. This paragraph was followed by "Trurl's Machine." As mentioned elsewhere in this thesis, this story is broadest in tone and nature, as Trurl and Klapaucius flee from the "stupidest thinking machine that ever was." The language is fairly simple and easy to understand, providing opportunities for extensive, farcical movement. This use of action and relatively familiar language was intended to help the audience "ease" into the production, hopefully encouraging them to keep listen­ ing during the less simplistic stories that were to follow. Trurl emerges from the encounter self-assured and still almost cocky, although the machine has the last word. The next selection chosen was "Trurl's Electronic Bard." In it, the language becomes more sophisticated and less familiar, delving into the sciences and mathematics. Action, however, can still be used to help clarify these aspects, such as the Bard's flirtatious delivery of the mathematical love poem. Trurl learns a little more from this encounter, resolving never to create another cybernetic model of any of the Arts. 38

The final story selected was "How the World Was Saved." Although the language used is relatively simple in structure, some terms, such as "pritons" and "worches," must be defined by the listener's imagina­ tion, calling forth perhaps the greatest mental involvement of the entire production. Suggestions for movement are fairly limited, reflecting the serious nature of the conflict within the story. At the end, Trurl, and Klapaucius as well, have to face an important truth: they are responsible for their acts and their creations, no matter how unwittingly they may have behaved. The cocky Trurl of "Trurl's Machine" has given way to a more thoughtful, and hopefully wiser, constructor.

Director's Role: Assembling the Cast With the selection of this general script, casting was the next step necessary. Tryouts were held in conjunction with Linda Milam Vancil, who was casting _I Remember Will, a production associated with her thesis. The two shows would run in tandem over four days, each with two afternoon and two evening performances, one performance of each show each day. Since most of the anticipated audiences would be students, this procedure was instituted to give more flexibility to those who had work, class, or other commitments. Notices about the tryouts were posted in prominent locations around campus. In addition, announcements were made in all oral interpretation classes, as well as in other speech classes. Since the tryouts would be limited to one night, the two directors also indi­ cated that those who were unable to attend the tryouts should contact either of the two directors or Dr. Vera Simpson for additional read­ ings. At the tryouts, readers were asked to provide basic information such as name, address, telephone number, previous experience, and hours available for rehearsal. They were also asked to indicate their pref­ erence of script and whether they would be willing to work on the other script, if chosen for it rather than the one they preferred. Then the readers were given material from both _I Remember Will and 39

The Cyberiad, and a chance to look over the material. The two direc­ tors and Dr. Simpson listened to the readers singly and in varying groups of two, three, and sometimes more. The readers were then dismissed after being told where they could find the lists of those chosen when they were posted the following day. The directors and Dr. Simpson, who had been asked to observe the tryouts in an advisory capacity, discussed what they had seen and heard. None of the readers had indicated that they would be unwilling to work on either show. (Most of the readers were familiar to the two directors, either from past experience working together or from classes.) The directors had very different directing styles, which were considered with respect to the prospective cast members, since these productions were also designed to be learning experiences for readers, as well as directors. Readers were chosen who would be compatible with each director's style. Some readers were "naturals" for one show or the other. Vancil, for example, needed a reader who was not only comfortable in western attire, but who also could do roping tricks for her Will Rogers role, so she used the reader who demonstrated those qualities most admirably at the tryouts. Considering these kinds of factors, the two directors worked together to select their casts. Eventually, three readers were chosen for I^ Remember Will and five for The Cyberiad. Notices were posted giving the cast lists and information regarding the first rehearsal. The five readers initially chosen for The Cyberiad presented an interesting group in terms of experience. One reader was a "veteran," in every sense of the word, in the field of readers theatre; another had extensive experience with oral interpretation and with group work for festivals, but had not appeared in a university production for the general public; the third had worked throughout high school with oral interpretation, had taken a college level class in the subject, and had done some group work for festivals; the fourth had some experience with acting, but was new to the field of readers theatre; and the fifth had taken the introductory class in oral interpretation, but was a complete novice in the area of public performance. Due to 40 university scheduling, the cast would have only five weeks for rehearsal, with a week of holidays for Spring Break between weeks three and four; the show would open on Thursday of week five. The mixture of experience levels was seen as a definite advantage while working with such an unusual and tight rehearsal schedule. Further, the director was thoroughly familiar with most of the cast. She had worked with the two most experienced readers in varying capacities many times in the past, one since high school and the other since both had become involved in oral interpretation at Texas Tech five years previously. She had met the third reader soon after the reader came to campus and had worked with her at various times during the two years which had elapsed. The director had also been the labora­ tory instructor for the least experienced reader's section of the introductory oral interpretation class. Thus, the director was a stranger to only one member of the cast, the actor. Since this director generally uses a group-oriented approach to directing, feeling that cast members learn more from the experience when they are actively involved in the decision-making processes involved as a production takes shape, and that they may develop deeper insights into their roles when participating in those processes, this familiarity was seen as an advantage in the quick establishment of working rela­ tionships for this production, especially since rehearsal time would be so short. Once the readers had been chosen, schedules were examined to determine the most convenient time for rehearsals. The rehearsal schedule was also coordinated with Vancil, since both shows needed to use the same facilities. At the first rehearsal, the hours were cleared by the cast members, with adaptations made as necessary. Having assembled a script and group of readers, the director was ready at last to begin the task of meshing those materials into the final production form through the process of group involvement in the steps of qualitative problem-solving. 41

Group Process: Confrontation The procedure of confrontation was allotted the first four rehearsals. At first, the cast was given the script and allowed to read through it, silently and then aloud, but no lines were assigned for the first three rehearsals. Readers were allowed to read any line they wished as they occurred for three basic reasons: since some of the readers had not worked in readers theatre/group productions before, this technique introduced the idea of anticipating and pick­ ing up cues from other readers, as well as encouraging the entire cast to approach the reading with spontaneity; second, the different types of characters and lines chosen by each reader gave the director a better idea about physical and vocal quality and range; last, by the third rehearsal, certain readers were tending to take specific lines and/or characters in each read-through, which let the director know which readers were developing the deepest empathic response to which characters. This knowledge was useful in developing the final line assignments. At this point, a personnel problem arose. One of the more experienced readers was forced to leave the cast due to a family emergency which would prohibit her from approaching the production with adequate time for rehearsal and with her complete concentration. Given the work already done by the rest of the cast, the decision was made to continue with the character assignments chosen based on the first three rehearsals and to seek a replacement for the departing reader, rather than proceeding with four readers. During the fourth rehearsal, the readers were given their charac­ ter assignments and told to read any dialogue belonging to that char­ acter and any description which seemed to belong to that character, based upon tone or attitude. If it was unclear which character might say any particular phrase, the readers were to continue their previous practice from the first three rehearsals. Until a fifth reader could be found, the director read the lines of dialogue which would be assigned to that reader, avoiding a characterization as much as pos­ sible. At this point, the group was experiencing their initial 42 confrontation with their roles, but they were also beginning to move into the process of meditation and determination of controls within the script as a whole. The four readers were cast in the following manner. Trurl^ would be played by the actor, while Klapaucius would be read by the most experienced reader. Physically and vocally, the two provided a marked and potentially humorous contrast to each other. Trurl^ was quite tall and slender, with very curly blond hair and fair coloring, while Klapaucius was short and heavy-set, with very straight black hair, and a continual heavy five-o'clock shadow. Vocally, Trurl^ had a voice that was lighter in quality and tone compared to the deeper, and darker, Klapaucius's. These contrasts were expected to enhance the grotesque humor of the selections. "Trurl's Machine" would be read by the most novice reader. His voice and build seemed potentially best for suggesting both the aggression and stubbornness of that machine. Although his initial read-throughs tended to be somewhat inhibited, as novice readers often are, he also showed the potential for growth which would enable him to handle the role successfully in the director's opinion. "The Electronic Bard" would be read by the remaining female. She was experienced enough to handle the machine's development as Trurl "tinkers," exhibiting a variety of characterizations through voice and posture, while thoroughly enjoying herself. This assignment left the role of the machine in "How the World Was Saved" vacant. The director and Dr. Simpson set about recruiting a suitable reader. This reader turned out to be a novice female who joined the cast two rehearsals later. Although she had missed the initial confrontation rehearsals and had very little experience, she quickly immersed herself in her work and began trying to develop empathy with her machine, working well with the director and other readers. Although the fifth reader had not yet joined the cast, the director and four readers moved from the confrontation of the 43 literature into the phase of meditation concerning the literature and the determination of literary controls.

Group Process: Meditation and Control The cast was now becoming fairly familiar with the script as a whole. The next task was to determine line assignments and to start the group thinking about why the stories were told as they were and why they were arranged in the order that they appeared. For the next three rehearsals, the group spent the first 20-30 minutes discussing the stories. Questions were answered about unfamiliar terminology and procedures within the stories, about characterizations based on other stories in The Cyberiad, and about production-related matters in general; all cast members were strongly encouraged to read the entire book. The group was questioned to encourage their own think­ ing and discussing the stories. Through this process of providing extra information and asking pertinent questions, the cast members gradually discovered for themselves the ever-widening scope of Trurl's misadventures from personal to cosmic, as well as started to see a number of parallels among the three stories. The second part of each rehearsal, an hour to an hour-and-a-half, was devoted to the process of developing line assignments. This process was largely in the hands of the cast after general guidelines had been presented at the fourth rehearsal, although that should not be taken to mean that the director was uninvolved. She had set up the guidelines and now moderated the discussions during the process, suggested new directions when the proceedings became mired, helped with particularly difficult sections, and arbitrated concerning especially-coveted lines. In addition, she decided which lines would use the chorus of machines and how they would be arranged, as well as eventually re-assigning some lines which simply did not "work" as originally assigned. At each of these stages, the director presented her reasons for her decisions, encouraging the cast to ask questions and to present opposing views if they felt they were valid. 44

One of the director's goals, as previously mentioned, was to enable the cast members, particularly those with less experience, to learn as much as possible about the internal processes involved in oral interpretation and in readers theatre. This somewhat unorthodox method of hashing out line assignments was seen as a means of immers­ ing the cast in the process of the literature and of helping the newer readers learn that there should be a reason for everything that is done in oral interpretation and readers theatre. Although the less- experienced readers seemed somewhat quiet at first, they soon began expressing their opinions and, after some encouragement from other group members, the reasons for those opinions. The director felt that she had been somewhat successful in her goals when she began to hear coiranents from her less-experienced readers such as, "I don't think my machine would say that—it's out of character. It seems more like the Bard's line to me. What does that do to the interpretation?" During these discussions, the following guidelines for line assignment gradually emerged: 1. All dialogue would be read by the pertinent character. 2. All narration relating to thoughts and feelings would be read by the character concerned. 3. Narration about overt actions might be read by either of the narrators from the machine chorus or by the character concerned, depending on the attitude involved and/or the aurality of the line and the vocal qualities implied. 4. Choral lines would be assigned to add emphasis and to enhance the psychological perception of the machine/ narrators and their relationship to the constructors. 5. Occasional variations from the above might be permitted, in order to aid pacing and tone.

Group Process: Recognition of Structural Dynamics During the rehearsals concerning line assignments, the idea of structural dynamics was introduced. This concept had been mentioned at one of the discussions preceding work on line assignments, when it 45 was explained to the cast that the stories were chosen for their simi­ larities and for the progression from personal danger to cosmic threat. At that point the readers seemed to accept this concept on an intel­ lectual level. Once lines were assigned and traditional rehearsals began, how­ ever, the readers tended to treat the three fables as three separate entities rather than as segments of a larger whole. The director tried to counteract this reaction by re-emphasizing the progression of pace and tone within the stories and by helping the readers see the similarities in structure within the stories. Although the actual readings did not reflect any major changes immediately, the readers began to demonstrate their awareness of these factors later when the group began to design the set, costumes, and blocking. At that point, suggestions from the readers were made in terms of "emphasiz­ ing the machines' relationships with each other," "showing Trurl's loss of dominance," and "helping the audience understand how the stories all fit together." Thus, the director felt that there was a growing awareness of structural dynamics as the rehearsals progressed.

Summary Chapter III has examined the search for suitable literature, as well as the initial analysis of the literature. Then, the cast was assembled and exposed to the literature and the process of literary analysis. The next chapter will focus on the exploration phase of rehearsals, as the readers worked on the areas of the set, charac­ terizations, blocking, and costuming. An explanation of the lighting will also be presented. 46

Notes for Chapter III 1 Roloff, Perception and Evocation, pp. 23-24. 2 Frank Herbert, Dune (New York: Berkley Publishing Corporation, 1977). 3 a Two readers rehearsed the role of Trurl. Trurl will be used to designate the reader originally assigned the role. Due to intense personal pressures, this reader left the role only a few days before the show opened. At this point, the director took over the role due to the short time available to prepare for the production, becoming Trurl°. CHAPTER IV

EXPLORATION OF THE LITERATURE

All writing, all composition, is construction. We do not imitate the world, we construct versions of it. There is no mimesis, only poiesis. No record­ ing. Only constructing.

In this chapter, those elements, in conjunction with the litera­ ture itself, most immediately involved in helping the audience member construct his own personal version of the world of Trurl and Klapaucius will be scrutinized: the set, the characterizations, the movement, the costuming, and the lighting.

Group Evolution of the Set An early goal of this production was to establish some type of set which could suggest any number of possible locales, while afford­ ing the cast a suitable area in which to work. Since most fables convey a sense of occurring in a "generic" place at an indefinite time, this same type of feeling was sought in designing the set. The exploration began with the discovery of what pieces were available for use: a number of readers stands and stools, two low platforms, and several "cubes" of varying sizes. For the next three nights, the readers were encouraged to try out various arrangements of these pieces. Although the arrangements differed slightly each night, the three narrator/machines tended to group themselves together, with the two constructors, especially Trurl, moving freely about the set. The final arrangement of pieces reflected this grouping. The final setting consisted of a "laboratory"/machine area for the readers characterizing the constructions, with a base area for

47 48 each of the constructors to either side of this grouping. The largest box (36"x36"x30") was placed center stage atop the two platforms (8'x4'x6"), with the platforms extending to either side. On top of the box, a stool and stand were positioned. One stool and stand were placed on each platform, also. When blocking showed the cube was too high for the readers to move onto easily from the platforms, two smaller cubes (33"x33"x24") were added, one to each side; the stools and stands for the other two narrator/machines were placed on the platforms far enough away from the cubes to facilitate easy movement from platform to box, but close enough toward center stage to retain a visual sense of unity among the three readers. The platforms were angled slightly forward.* A small box, out of sight of the audience, was set behind the large cube so that the readers could move easily onto the cube during the opening choreography. Two stools, without stands, were placed about a foot from the ends of the platforms, one at either side, for the constructors to use. One cast member designed a backdrop which combined aspects of spools of computer tapes with a pastel rainbow effect, as if two computerized eyes watched over the proceedings in a non-threatening manner. This piece (9'x5') was hung directly behind the center cube arrangement, allowing room to move behind the boxes and platforms. The cubes and platforms were then painted to pick up colors from the backdrop. The sides making up the front of the cube-and-platform arrangement were painted brown, as were the tops and ends of the platforms. This color seemed least likely to distract the audience when used in a large area. The smaller cubes' sides and tops were painted peach, while the larger cube's were blue to blend with the overall decor of the room where the show was to be presented. Although painting of the pieces was not finished until the week before the show opened, the pieces themselves contributed to the development of characters and of blocking. The following two sections of this chapter will examine those areas more closely. 49

Group Evolution of Characters The evolution of characters and their relationships began in the initial discussions and read-throughs with emphasis on the cybernetic nature of the characters. Some cast members thought this meant that the characters should be played with stilted diction and movements reminiscent of robots in science fiction movies of the 1950s. The cast was then encouraged to go beyond such stereotypes and to think of their roles from different perspectives:

In science fiction, the character need not be a human being. Science fiction stories have been written in which the protagonist was a robot, an alien from another world, a supernatural being, an animal, or even a plant. But in each case, the story was successful only if the protagonist—no matter what he/she/it looked like or was made of— 2 behaved like a^ human being.

Reminded that their characters had both cybernetic and human aspects, the readers began to move away from the more rigid interpre­ tation and to think in terms of the entire range of production ele­ ments—set, costuming, lighting, music—as well as the interpretation style. The development of the choral relationship of the machines is one example of this process. When rehearsals with assigned roles began, the effect was simply that of three different readers occasionally reading lines together. As the set was developed and those readers were brought into closer physical proximity, they began to develop a real relationship: the three tended to react to the proceedings as a group, rather than as individual readers, although each of their reac­ tions reflected the attitudes of their individual machines. Perhaps the most striking example of the three readers coming to think of themselves as a unit was the development of the transitions, discussed later in the section on blocking. The dance of the chorus was 50 basically the idea of the cast as a whole, but the chorus of machines were the ones who devised the variations on the steps, which empha­ sized their unity. Individually, each of the three readers involved with the machines faced a challenge in developing his or her individual char­ acter. The primary problem for the reader involved with Trurl's Machine was lack of experience. His efforts at characterization tended to be somewhat tentative. He had to be encouraged to strengthen and broaden his interpretation. Given the childish, bul­ lying nature of his machine, the reader seemed somewhat uncomfortable at first, but quickly began to adapt as he discovered ways to use his body and the set, such as using his cube to produce the "sound like thunder," in covert rather than overt ways to depict the aggression of his machine. "Trurl's Electronic Bard" presented another type of problem for the second reader, the most experienced of the three. Since this machine's creation is described in more detail than either of the other two, a wider range of characterization is needed as the machine goes through its various phases. In addition, this machine is self- programming and, once finished by Trurl, develops new capabilities on its own. Thus, the reader has to develop early characters who differ in many respects from Trurl's final product, and then to create the impression of great independent growth and change by the machine itself. The major areas of work here lay in strengthening those early characters to make them as different as possible from the completed Bard and in trying to portray the Bard's growing confidence in its skills. The final narrator/machine, the Machine That Could Do Anything in N, had much the same problem as the male reader of Trurl's Machine: inexperience. Her role, however, was of a more cerebral and less physical machine, offering few opportunities for the type of physicali- zation used by the male reader. Also, much of the story reads like a tongue-twister, full of both familiar and unfamiliar terms, requiring that the reader concentrate on the physical production of words, as 51 well as on the mental images conjured by the terms. This use of "n" words interfered to some degree with her work on her character since such concentration was required by the mechanics of pronunciation. However, she was encouraged to realize her machine's power over the thoughtless constructors and to work on ways of conveying that grow­ ing realization of power and its awesome implications. The development of the constructors' personalities also presented some problems. The male reading Klapaucius, the most experienced reader in the cast, handled most of his own work in this area. Having worked extensively with readers theatre, he knew the value of reading the primary source in its entirety and of building his characteriza­ tion based on cues from that as well as on the script. He was adept at adapting his characterization in response to the others' develop­ ing characterizations. Because of his experience, he required little or no additional help in developing a very creditable Klapaucius. Trurl was facing his first experience in readers theatre, although he had worked in theatre. This quality may have created some problems for him, since he had difficulty in working with the differences between the two forms. He tended to think in literal terms of the characterization of Trurl, trying early in rehearsals to develop full make-up and costuming for the character, rather than working on the suggestive internalization and covert physicalization favored in oral interpretation. Trurl was also facing personal problems which interfered with his concentration on the role and on learning the subtleties involved in the form, causing his perform­ ance during rehearsals to be somewhat erratic, with the same line rarely receiving the same interpretation twice. This lack of con­ sistency created problems for the other readers as they tried to develop their own characterizations and relationships and reactions to other characters. This problem was resolved a few days before the show was to open when, by mutual discussion and decision, Trurl replaced Trurl . Since Trurl was also the director, she was thoroughly familiar with the script, the cast, and the developing characterizations, as well 52 as such matters as blocking. This familiarity enabled her to step into the role with a minimum of confusion, employing her own insights adapted to mesh with those already under development. When she took over the role, Trurl's performance became more consistent and the other readers were able to let their responses develop more fully.

Group Evolution of Blocking Once the set had been formulated and characterizations had begun to develop, blocking more or less "happened": Trurl felt free to use the stage area as his workshop, clambering up and down the cubes, arranging and rearranging his machines as suggested by the script; Klapaucius used his stool as a home base and refuge from his sallies into Trurl's domain; and the three narrators/machines found unique ways to use their area appropriate to their personae. In addition, the focal area of each story moved slightly closer toward the narrator/ machines, clustering around center stage as things began to disappear from the constructors' world. The basic rationale behind the blocking was that it should sug­ gest, though not necessarily portray, the actions described in the script. Thus, when Trurl is said to have climbed into a certain story of the machine, he might climb the cubes or even get down to crouch on his hands and knees on the cubes, but he would not actually crawl into a cube. This type of reasoning was applied in all areas. For instance, when Trurl and Klapaucius hide behind Trurl's stool as if behind a rock in the cave opening, Trurl actually peeps over the stool and puts out his hand to feel the machine; the machine, however, is still on the cube where he has been since the beginning of the story, his pursuit of the constructors simulated by various sound effects produced by shaking the cube, and the focus of the scene remains off-stage. Perhaps the most difficult areas to block were the opening and the transitions. These problems were solved with the addition of music. The group had been looking for some type of electronic music to use to help establish mood as the audience entered. One reader 53 brought in an album called "The Amazing New Electronic Sound of Jean Jacques Perrey" (Vanguard VSD-79286), which contained an electronic version of "Frere Jacques" entitled "Frere Jean Jacques." While other cuts from the album were used to help establish mood as intended, "Frere Jean Jacques" became the opening music for the production. Light in mood, familiar-but-strange, the music established a jaunty note appropriate to the beginning of the script, during which Trurl brings in and arranges, and rearranges, his troublesome creations, who will not quite behave as he wishes. Once things are arranged to his liking, Trurl brings in Klapaucius, who sniffs in disdain; their relationship is established with a lightness of touch and tone. Transitions were eased by music also, this time a very brief piece lasting only a few seconds from "Paul and" by Paul Stukey (Warner Brothers Records WS 1912). This selection sounds somewhat like a cart with square wheels trying to roll along. Since the center cube had been established as the "machine spot," the three narrators needed to change positions after each story. Asked to experiment with the music, the cast devised a stylized dance, mimicking the stiff movements usually associated with robots, which would move each nar­ rator/machine to the necessary spot. There were two versions: one where the constructors attempt to join the machines' dance and are ejected; another where the constructors do their own dance. These dances became the transitions. Blocking the ending was also enhanced by music. Originally, Trurl was to have crossed to comfort Klapaucius and help him out, followed by the other readers as a trio. This approach did not have the "fin­ ished" effect desired. On the same album with "Frere Jean Jacques" was another song, "In the Heart of a Rose." Added to the ending, the music created an envelope effect. The song also moved from a slow, somewhat melancholy start to a sober, but slightly brighter, air. This change, it was hoped, would help the audience understand that the constructors would move from their despair eventually to a more thoughtful attitude toward their creations. 54

Development of Costuming Reflecting the colors of the backdrop, costumes were fairly simple. Black was chosen as a unifying factor. Trurl dressed in black top, pants, and shoes, with a blue apron combining a carpenter's apron with a bib. The use of a black top and pants for Trurl was intended to show his involvement with the other characters and his own primary importance to the show, while the blue provided contrast and tied Trurl to the environment of the production, since the decor of the auditorium, including walls in the performing area, was pre­ dominantly blue, with touches of white. Klapaucius dressed similarly, in black pants with a blue shirt and a black constructor's apron. The machines also wore black: the male, pants; the females, long skirts. The male, as Trurl's Machine, wore a brown shirt. Brown was seen as appropriate both to his sex, since most of the colors used were pastels, and to the mental dullness of his machine. Trurl's Electronic Bard wore a pale yellow peasant blouse, with gathers around the neck and bottoms of the elbow-length sleeves. The yellow was seen as indicative of the romantic nature of the Bard and of its eventual fate, composing poetry using super-novae. The Machine That Could Do Anything in N wore a similar type of blouse, with cuffs instead of gathers at the end of her elbow-length sleeves, in soft peach. The modification in sleeve type was to indicate the no-nonsense attitude of this machine, as opposed to the poetic nature of the Bard and to the dullness of Trurl's Machine, while the color was neither bright nor dull, showing that this machine was of itself neither clever like the Bard nor stupid like Trurl's Machine, but rather only an instrument of its creator and user, although a powerful instrument.

Rationale for Lighting Lighting for The Cyberiad was simple, too. General lighting was used for the stage area, with house lights dimmed to darkness as the show began. After the cast's exit, stage lights were dimmed briefly, then brought back up as the house lights were brought to normal levels. 55

This simple use of lighting was necessitated by the physical arrangement of the room where the show was presented. Designed for multi-media usage, the room was not completed at the time of this production. One of the things still to be installed was a grid over the stage area to facilitate lighting such productions. Only a very small space to either side of the performing area was available for use for hanging lights. This space was relatively inaccessible: permanent ladders were yet to be installed, and most of the available ladders were too short to be safe. Once lights were hung, using a borrowed cherry-picker type ladder, they proved hard to focus to eliminate shadows, due to their locations. Since The Cyberiad was running with I^ Remember Will with only a few hours between performances of the two shows, the decision was made to use only general lighting for both shows; lighting levels acceptable to both shows were estab­ lished when the lights were originally hung. This procedure reduced confusion between the different performances and also reduced the likelihood that some member of the cast and/or technical crew would be injured while working with the lights.

Summary This chapter has focused primarily on the physical elements of this readers theatre production, in terms of set, movement, costumes, and lighting. The characterizations which developed around those physical ingredients were also discussed. The next chapter will examine the completion phase of the qualitative problem-solving method employed, in terms of circumstances of the performances and of audi­ ence responses to a director-designed questionnaire. 56

Notes for Chapter IV

Scholes, Structural Fabulation, p. 7. 2 Ben Bova, Notes to a_ Science Fiction Writer (New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1975), p. 9. CHAPTER V

COMPLETION

This chapter will examine the completion phase in working with the creative/qualitative problems presented by this scripting of The Cyberiad. A report of the circumstances of the public performances and a discussion of audience reactions to the literary metaworld will form the focal points.

Public Performances The Cyberiad: Fables for the Cybernetic Age was performed four times on consecutive days, April 6-9, 1978, with two afternoon and two evening performances. The production ran in conjunction with I^ Remember Will, as explained in Chapter II. By the end of the run, approximately 120 people had attended the performances.

Audience Reactions to the Metaworld As audience members entered the auditorium, they were asked by the ushers if they were enrolled in an oral interpretation class at Texas Tech. Those who indicated they were, were asked to complete a brief questionnaire concerning their perceptions of the metaworld pre­ sented during the performance. This response sheet consisted of ten questions, eight focusing on the actual performance and two on prior experience with Lem's writings and/or oral interpretation. Students were to return the questionnaire to their laboratory instructors at the next class meeting. Instructors would simply collect the sheet; no grade was to be given for returning the answers, although some instructors elected to give extra credit or check marks to those who did return the sheet. This means of easing collection was one of the primary reasons for limiting distribution of the questionnaire to oral interpretation

57 58 students only. In addition, the beginning oral interpretation class at Texas Tech may be used to fulfill the degree requirement for a humani­ ties course for many undergraduates; this class has the largest enroll­ ment of all the interpretation classes and would, therefore, provide most of the responses. Since the course attracts a variety of people, with wide-ranging backgrounds, interests, and goals, this sample of responses was considered to be representative of the university popu­ lation as a whole. Forty-three reaction papers were returned. In addition, twenty- two students allowed the director to read and keep their written cri­ tiques of the performance, which had been a graded class assignment. These critiques contained both positive and negative comments and were used to supplement the material received on the questionnaire. Stu­ dents were not told that the director would see the critiques until they had been handed in; the value of negative as well as positive criticism was emphasized. The director was able to divide the respondents into two basic groups. Twenty-eight people indicated that they had no experience with oral interpretation outside of their existing enrollment in the beginning oral interpretation class. Thirteen others fell into the some-to-moderate level of experience; nine of these indicated that they had had some high school experience and/or had completed the beginning course at Tech, while the other four claimed more than one year of experience in high school, completion of the beginning course at Tech, and enrollment in or completion of at least one advanced interpretation class. Two people did not answer this question. None of the forty-three were familiar with any of Lem's work prior to this production. Two, however, indicated that they intended to become familiar with his writings based on their enjoyment of this production. Regarding the time of the fables within the production, seventeen people said they believed the stories took place 100-150 years in the future, seven others mentioned the Twenty-second or Twenty-third Cen­ turies, and five more mentioned points in time beyond those. Two 59 people responded in an ambiguous fashion, focusing on elements of both past and future, while one simply stated that he felt the stories were "timeless," Two students did not respond. At the opposite end of the spectrum from those who focused on the future or timeless elements, eight people thought the stories occurred in the past. Three people thought the stories took place three thousand or more years ago; three more, at least a thousand years ago. Two people indicated they felt the stories took place in the 1950s during the beginning of the cybernetic explosion on Earth. (These same two respondents also indicated that they saw Trurl and Klapaucius as totally human, rather than as highly advanced machines.) Given the futuristic set used for The Cyberiad, these responses concerning the past were somewhat surprising, but may partially reflect a fascination with the concurrently popular film Star Wars, which supposedly happened, "A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away.n l Concerning the location of the stories, most of those responding stated that the action took place on Earth, with twenty-six express­ ing that opinion; two of these indicated that, although the setting was Earth, a major disaster or social revolution had taken place prior to the fables. Thirteen students felt the action occurred on another planet, while two stated the setting was ambiguous, with elements that were both earthly and alien. One person expressed the idea that the stories took place in "another dimension." One offered no response. While these answers may seem confusing at first, the director's intention of evoking mythic time is mirrored in them. Just as each reader of one of Aesop's fables must construct his own mental image of that story, so the viewers of Lem's fables imaged his world for them­ selves. What emerges as important is not the congruity between literal place and time from viewer to viewer, but rather the shared psychological experience of events within Lem's fables. In terms of creating a sense of inevitability within the literary experience by the arrangement of the stories, the response was 60 overwhelmingly favorable, with thirty-two believing the stories took place in the order presented. Of those thirty-two, one felt that the stories could take place only in that order; two felt that each story led logically to the next; and two others felt that Trurl would never wish to create again after "How the World Was Saved." This last response was particularly interesting in light of the fact that Lem begins The Cyberiad with that fable. Three people felt that, although the stories did not necessarily happen in the order presented, that order was logical and an aid to understanding the overall theme of the readers theatre production. Only eight people thought the order was random; of those eight, one mentioned that he had noticed several similarities within the three fables, however. With so many favorable responses, the director felt satisfied that she had accomplished the goal of creating a sense of inevitability. Four questions concerned Trurl, Klapaucius, and their society. The first of these focused on the physical and personality traits of the two constructors. Since there were almost as many different answers as there were respondents, the results for this question will be reported in terms of a composite sketch, rather than as individual responses. Trurl was seen in a basically positive light. The most common comments focused on the fact that he was a hard and ambitious worker with a great need for success, as well as a creator who worked mostly for his own satisfaction, although social recognition and fame were strong motivations. He was also perceived as mentally active and intelligent, seeking answers to problems the society faced. The audience also remarked on both his stubborn nature and his persever­ ance, noting his continuing efforts at creation as well as his refusal to compromise his ideals. The responses also indicated that Trurl was seen as dynamic and assertive, though not overbearing. Although Trurl possessed a high degree of competitiveness, he was also thought to be able to accept criticism. Three audience members stated that they found Trurl particularly sympathetic, loving, and compassionate. 61

Among the few negative comments, Trurl was characterized as being a bad-tempered, exploitative show-off. Physically, the audience tended to favor the image of Trurl as fairly short and thin, with the thinness resulting from overwork. His age was variously given as young, "forty-ish," and old. His hair color might have been either dark, gray, or non-existent (bald). Several respondents felt that he would either be very energetic or spry even though aged. Klapaucius was seen much more negatively. The most common descriptions of his character mentioned the impression that he was extremely envious and scornful of the achievement of others. He was often termed intelligent"but one viewer characterized him as only a pseudo-intellectual and another called him stupid. He was also seen as less creative and lazier than Trurl, as well as the weaker of the two in general terms of strength of character. On a more positive note, Klapaucius was also described as being a dynamic person who was able to ask probing questions and who was proud of his own work. Older than Trurl, short, and fat from inactivity were the terms most often used to describe Klapaucius on a physical level. One audience member thought that he was probably about forty, another that he was fairly old. One person thought he had long, black, curly hair, another that he was gray. Few audience members elaborated beyond the comment that Klapaucius was fat. The director was somewhat surprised by the negative response to the character of Klapaucius. However, the cutting employed in this particular production gave little emphasis to Klapaucius's own cre­ ative efforts, although some effort was made to show his side of the friendship in a positive light, such as his refusal to abandon Trurl to the first machine. The Cyberiad as a whole is more balanced in its treatment of the two constructors; another selection of stories could give a more sympathetic portrait of Klapaucius, Most audience members clearly saw Trurl and Klapaucius as not only rivals but also friends, with seventeen of those answering the questionnaire using those terms to describe the constructors' 62 relationship. Ten others depicted them as colleagues; eight others, partners and friends; and still eight more, as rivals. Three responses also mentioned the complementary nature of the relationship, stating that it seemed as though each needed the other in order to make sense of his own life and work. Thus, although many audience members saw numerous negative aspects of Klapaucius, they nonetheless felt that friendship between Trurl and Klapaucius was plausible, especially when that friendship was tinged with rivalry. Most respondents seemed to feel that the society in which Trurl and Klapaucius functioned was technologically advanced (thirteen responses) and primarily cybernetic (fourteen answers, with four of those indicating they felt the society was entirely made up of machines, although those machines had human characteristics). Two other students felt that humanity had been completely replaced by technology. While six viewers felt the society was "futuristic," three others stated that it was remarkably similar to the present world. Six people saw competition and pride as major elements; three others termed it an essentially hostile society. One saw uncer­ tainty as an important factor. Three people felt that there was also a gentle side to life, since the arts apparently flourished in "Trurl's Electronic Bard." Two people said the society was permissive, while one termed it conservative, and yet another, very conventional. Other comments included the opinion that life was simple (one response); that organized systems of living had disappeared (one); that existence was "factory-like" (one) and that the society was essentially a lonely one (two). Some students gave a combination of answers, yielding a total of more than forty-three responses. These answers indicate that, although there was general agreement about several major elements of the social scheme, there was also some variance of feeling concerning less clearly defined areas. Seventeen people spoke of Trurl's and Klapaucius's relationships to their society in terms of their roles as constructors and/or scientists. Although some of the students did not elaborate beyond that answer, others went on to say that the constructors try to 63

advance their society (eight people), especially mentioning Trurl •s desire to create marvelous machines (two of the eight) and Klapaucius's desire to prove Trurl wrong (one of the eight); to answer society's questions or demands (two); and to make life easier (one). Six people felt that Trurl and Klapaucius were a reflection of their society's ways and mores, with two of these citing their yearning for recogni­ tion from society as a whole and one more noting their concern with appearances. However, four people stated they believed that Trurl and Klapaucius were "outside" society, being unable to function within society and being unacceptable to their culture. A related response, from two respondents, was that, while Klapaucius could be seen as a representative of their society, fitting in well, Trurl could not be deemed to fit in with others, since he continually tries to reform and advance their world. Two others saw both the constructors as non­ conformists, but also part of the social system. Three people per­ ceived the pair as only minimally involved with the larger social order, with an additional three citing their view that the constructors worked primarily for their own amusement and self-satisfaction. Another response focused on the fact that Trurl's inventions had a great impact on their world, regardless of the constructors' personal roles. Still other answers called them intellectual leaders (two), workers (one), and "pawns" (one); the last response did not elaborate. The final two questions concerned the production elements of set and lighting. In both areas, some respondents gave a combination of answers, so that answers cited total more than the number of students answering the questionnaire. In terms of relating the physical setting to the literary meta­ world, many people mentioned the modem but timeless feeling of the set as related to those qualities within the fables (the mythic time elements mentioned earlier in this chapter), with ten answers citing this factor. Eight students related the set to the role of machines in society, one specifically in terms of Trurl's creations and their growing dominance over their creator; one, in terms of Trurl's uncer­ tainty regarding what he really wanted from his creations; and one, 64 in terms of the lack of emotions of machines in the traditional sense. Three students mentioned a positive relationship between the size of the platforms and the size of the machines. Four related the set to Trurl's workshop, with three of those indicating that the set made it easy to become involved with both the machines and the constructors, although one specifically mentioned Trurl's freedom of movement as making his position most powerful. Four felt the set helped establish the mood without distracting. One person thought the simplicity of the set enhanced the acoustics. One response mentioned that the viewer had felt as if he were constantly "being watched," a quality Steve Tolle had tried to incorporate in his design for the backdrop. One of the more interesting ideas advanced concerned the sim­ plicity of the set in relation to the complexities of the production. This respondent felt that the simplicity of the set served as a com­ plement to the dense and complex language of the selections. In addition, the readers/characters introduced complexities into the set/metaworld. Of the remaining responses, one stated the set was neutral, one gave an irrelevant answer unrelated to the set, and seven indicated they either did not know, did not understand the question, or had no response. Given these comments, the director felt that the set had been generally successful in terms of helping to establish overall mood and of illustrating the relationships of the machines and the constructors. Answers to the question concerning the significance of the light­ ing at the end of the show fell into basically four groups; again, some students used a combination of answers, so that responses total more than forty-three. The largest group of responses were those concerning the lighting as a means of gently ending the show (eleven responses) and/or as a means of reflecting the mood or state of the environment after "How the World Was Saved" (nine responses). The second category of answers were those delving into philo­ sophical implications. Six saw the lighting as suggestive of the end of the world, regardless of the fact the machine had been stopped. 65

Two students focused on the duality suggested by the lighting and music, citing their feeling of both an end and a beginning and/or the lack of hope versus the capability of progress. One person saw the ending with its lighting as paralleling the Exile from Paradise of Adam and Eve, since the constructors must now live with the guilt of their sin in misusing the creation of intelligence. The third group of responses might be termed the more negative comments. Three audience members found no significance to the end lighting; five did not notice any changes in lighting at the end; and one noticed the difference in lighting, but stated he did not under­ stand it. The final category consisted of those responses that were too general to be useful (such as, "The lighting was good," from one viewer); those comments related to other aspects of the lighting than the ending (three students); and those statements not related to lighting elements at all (two participants). One questionnaire con­ tained no response. The director felt that she had been fairly successful, based on these responses, in terms of conveying the state of Trurl's and Klapaucius's world following their encounter with the Machine That Could Do Anything in N, and in terms of allowing the audience members to disengage themselves from the metaworld gradually rather than abruptly. The director also felt, however, that the ending was not as successful as had been hoped in conveying the optimism of the constructors as well as the sense of guilt the constructors must learn to live with following their failures. On the whole, the director felt that she had been reasonably successful in accomplishing her major goals for the production, although some elements needed strengthening. The critiques tended to reinforce this feeling. Twenty-two critiques were submitted. Of these, the majority tended to focus on physical attributes of the individual readers such as vocal qualities, posture, and gesture, which, while important to the overall production, were not particularly germaine to the major 66 areas of research for this thesis. Several critiques were too general to be of much use, except in rating the readers theatre on a broad positive or negative level. Surprisingly, only two papers were thor­ oughly negative; the incidence of negative criticism was expected to be much higher, given the slightly bizarre nature of the stories and their highly complex language. More common was the reaction of the student who wrote, "How weird was this show!" He then admitted that he had not expected to like the show, based on initial publicity and advance discussion, but had found himself drawn into the characters and their situations almost against his will and, surprising himself, had liked and cared about what happened to the constructors and machines. This sense of audience involvement was echoed by the young woman who wrote, "It was easy to follow the literature because I did not feel like an observer; now I have a greater appreciation and a better understanding of listener involvement." A third person stated, "Though I've never seen a show like this one before, I was able to recreate the scenes in my mind. I did this without thinking!" Not everyone was so positive. One student characterized the choice of material as "very poor," while another found it "confusing." Two students, in generally positive critiques, voiced concern that, based on movement styles and script usage, the production bordered on being "too dramatic," rather than being pure readers theatre; in con­ trast, two others felt the movement was too limited, while seven others mentioned the limited use of scripts by the machine/narrators in each segment as being very effective. The element most often criticized was the costuming of the three machines. Four people felt that the costumes for these machines were not as helpful to visualizing the scenes as the constructors' costumes were; one of these four wanted more literal costuming for the machines, and one simply wanted the male reader out of "modern dress." The most popular element by far was the music, with eleven people noting its appropriateness; one person even felt that the music could have been written especially for this production. The set garnered 67 approval from the students for its ability to enhance the underlying feeling and tone of the stories and the overall understanding of the entire production; only two people felt the set was too simple and uninvolving. Other aspects mentioned as very effective included the lighting, by seven students; the costuming of Trurl and Klapaucius, six; the use of movement and gestures as enhancement of the relation­ ships among machines and creators, five; the stylized movement for the transitions, six (although one of these characterized the transitions as "good, but odd"); the use of a variety of focusing techniques, four (one of these found the use of character placement rather than on­ stage focus by the machines confusing at times); and the overall pacing of the pieces, four. The scene most often mentioned specif­ ically as excellent was the cave scene from "Trurl's Machine," by four students; the use of the set pieces to produce the thunderous rumbling of the advancing machine was singled out particularly. Nine papers also discussed the theory behind the line assignment. While one felt that the line assignment was simply in a regular order, eight others discussed in detail the basic reasoning behind the division of lines, citing reasoning close to that of the director and cast. Of these eight, three noted minor inconsistencies. In terms of realizing the dichotomy of the constructors and the machines, i.e., their having both mechanical and human components, most students seemed to have little trouble. The most usual reaction was typified by one student's comment about Trurl: "He seemed very human, even though he was a machine." One of the most elaborate com­ ments on this duality came from a young man who wrote, concerning the Electronic Bard, "I would have expected (had I been told about it beforehand) to have had a humorous reaction. The idea of a machine reciting a love poem in mathematical terms seems a humorous one. Yet, to my surprise, my reaction was emotional, and in the passion and feeling of the poem I became infatuated with the machine." Clearly, the audience was able to perceive both elements of the characters. The director had some concern that her reading of Trurl's role might create problems in terms of cognitive dissonance for the 68 audience, since Trurl is, of course, male. However, only one critique indicated any problem with this, the writer choosing to discuss the constructors' rivalry in terms of the battle of the sexes. Most stu­ dents tended to refer to Trurl as "he" and to the director-reader as "she." Thus, this seems to have been a very minor problem.

Summary This chapter has examined the circumstances of the four perform­ ances of The Cyberiad: Fables for the Cybernetic Age and the method of data collection through questionnaires and written critiques. A dis­ cussion of the comments obtained from the questionnaires and critiques followed. Chapter VI will summarize the work done for this thesis and the conclusions reached. Some recommendations for future studies will also be presented. 69

Note for Chapter V_

itar Wars, A Lucasfilm Ltd. Production, Twentieth Century-Fox Release, 1977. CHAPTER VI

SUMMARY, CONCLUSIONS, AND RECOMMENDATIONS FOR FUTURE STUDY

This final chapter will offer a summary of the major points of this thesis. Some conclusions will be stated concerning Lem's work in connection with its performance in readers theatre. Finally, some recommendations for future study will be made.

Summary In Chapter I of this thesis, a brief overview of readers theatre as a means of literary study was presented, followed by a discussion of the particular qualities of science fiction as a field, and of Lem's work specifically, which lend themselves to the use of readers theatre. Last, the problem was stated and a general method for its approach was given. Lem's life and work, as well as the difficulties in working with translations, were the focus of Chapter II. Biographical data concern­ ing Lem was covered. An examination of his works available in English translation at the time of the production ensued, leading into a pe­ rusal of Lem's major recurring themes and motifs. Then reasons for the choice of stories from The Cyberiad were voiced. Chapters III and IV centered on the evolution of the production from the early stages of script selection to the final preparations. Analysis of the literature and development of the interpretation were handled in Chapter III, while Chapter IV looked at development of characterizations and the physical aspects of the perceptual layering process involved. The circumstances of the performances and the responses of the audience were reported in Chapter V.

70 71

Conclusions Based on this experience, two major conclusions can be stated. First, although Lem's work often contains unfamiliar terminology and procedures, and may, at first glance, seem rather alien in its metaworld, these works are in fact a mirror for the human/conscious condition, whose cybernetic perspective gives an added richness to the experience. As such, works such as The Cyberiad contain ample psy­ chological resonance to hold, entertain, and perhaps to educate a typical audience for the length of an average readers theatre produc­ tion, and possibly for even longer. Second, readers theatre is a prime vehicle for literature such as The Cyberiad. The ability to retain the narrative element while embodying the work in acoustical space gives an added depth to the metaworld, allowing the author to present his views in his own unique way: an element often lacking in the more conventional theatrical dramatization or film. With Lem's fiction, this approach allows the retention of many of his philosophical elements, as well as the pre­ sentation of many of his more spectacular scenes, in a way that totally involves the imaginations of both readers and audience. Given these two successful conclusions, a number of possibilities open up for further study.

Recommendations for Future Study Although the possibilities for more work with Lem's writings are virtually limitless, three major areas for study will be recommended. First, experimentation could be done using different types of audiences to try to assess factors in audience response to the litera­ ture. For example. The Cyberiad might be performed for three audi­ ences: one from the general populace, one from the scientific community, and one from literary circles. How will the different backgrounds affect the perceptions of the literature? Which audience experiences the strongest response? What adaptations can/should be made to aid each audience? These are only a few of the questions that might be considered. 72

Second, audience reaction to different types of formats for the presentation of the more complex works, such as Solaris, could be studied. Here a "marathon" production—necessitated by the material— might be contrasted with a "two-nighter" presentation of the same material. Which is more effective? What changes are required by the different formats? Again, the possibilities are numerous. Finally, the material itself can be combined in new ways. Selec­ tions from various works could be used to illustrate some of Lem's recurring themes and motifs. Some of the books feature line drawings by Lem and other artists which might be used as slides with the read­ ing. Other books suggest psychological scenes and visual effects which might be enhanced by a multimedia approach. With this type of explor­ ation, only the director and cast could place the artistic boundaries, based upon the literature itself. These are only a few suggestions. With writing as complex and varied as that of Lem, a rich lode remains for refinement and use by other interpreters. SELECTED BIBLIOGRAPHY

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Malone, Robert. The Robot Book. New York: Jove Publications, Inc., 1978.

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Zamyatin, Yevgeny. We. Trans. Mirra Ginsburg. New York: Bantam Books, Inc., 1972. APPENDIX A: CORRESPONDENCE

83 84

Texas Tech University

PO Box 4209 Lubbock, Texas 79409

Division of Speech Communicailon Phone M06( r-tj 2152

2619 19th Street, #2 Lubboclc, Texas 79^10 January 6, 1978 The Seabury Press, Inc. 815 Second Avenue New York, New York 10017 Dear Sir or Madamet I wish to request permission to use selections from Stsmislaw Lem's The Cyberiad as the basis for a readers theatre production later this springs production dates are not definite at this time. I aun currently a graduate student here at Texas Tech. in the Division of Speech Communication. This productior.' will be a part of my master's thesis; thus, I alone will be responsible for production expenses. Current plans call for three performances. Past experience with readers theatre here at Tech indicates that we can expect a total audience of I50-2OO people during the run. We intend to sell tickets at one dollar for adults and fifty cents for students. This money will be used to pay production expenses in pajrt, although it will not be enough to cover all the costs of doing the show. I would be glad to submit my script for your approval, or to provide any other information you might need. Thank you for your time and consideration in this matter. Sincerely,

Connie Tapp *andy 85

I nc DC/-ADUM TKui:) THE SEABURY PRESS THE SEABURY PRESS

_J lit JL/XDUKY rKtj^ aiSSecondAvenue/NewYork. NY 10017/(212)557 0500 Crossroad bo'jks , Confinuum 8'joxs •<_:.j'-->n 9(i • "•

January 11, 1978

Ms. Connie Tapp Bandy 2619 19th Street, »2 Lubbock, Texas 79410 Dear Ms. Bandy: Thank you very much for your letter of January 6, concerning per­ mission to use selections from THE CYBERIAD by Stanislaw Lem as the basis for a readers theater production this spring. We consider this excellent promotion for the author and his work, and we are pleased to grant you permission, free-of-charge, to use these selections. Our permission is, of course, restricted to the readers theater production at Texas Tech University this spring; permission for performances other than in conjuction with the Division of Speech Communication at Texas Tech roust be obtain­ ed separately. We would appreciate receiving a copy of your script for our files, and we must also ask you to credit the selections as follows: From THE CYBERIAD: Fables for the Cybernetic Age by Stan.islaw Lem, English translation (c) 1974 by the Seabury Press, Inc. Used by permission of the publisher. With best wishes for a successful production.

Yours sincerely,

Ulla Schnell APPENDIX B: SCRIPT

86 THE CYBERIAD: FABLES FOR THE CYBERNETIC AGE*

By Stanislaw Lem

Translated by Michael Kandel

Cast of Characters TRURL, a constructor MALE 1 KLAPAUCIUS, his friend and rival MALE 2 NARRATOR 1, narrator and'Trurl's Electronic Bard FEMALE 1 NARRATOR 2, narrator and the Machine That Could Do Anything in N FEMALE 2 NARRATOR 3, narrator and Trurl's Machine MALE 3

(This script uses the abbreviations "M" for male and "F" for female.)

* From THE CYBERIAD: Fables for the Cybernetic Age by Stanislaw Lem. English translation (c) 1974 by the Seabury Press, Inc. Used by permission of the publisher.

87 88

(A jaunty electronic version of "Frere Jacques" is heard as M 1 enters and "straightens" the set. After looking it all over, M 1 exits and returns with F 1, placing her at the far right stool and stand in an artistic pose. He then exits again, returning with F 2. He places her at the other stool and stand carefully arranging her arms and hands. By this time, F 1 has slipped out of her pose, and M 1 rearr­ anges her. M 1 leaves one more time and brings back M 3, who will be the machine in the first segment, placing him on the center box in his pose. F 1 is again out of position, but snaps back as M 1 glares at her. M 2 saunters in, look­ ing over the set-up with a smug and superior air. As M 1 goes to the stool closest to F 2 and sits, indicating his pride and pleasure in his creations to the audience, M 2 moves to the stool closest to F 1 and sits, showing just as clearly that he_ is not overly impressed. M 1 gives him a dirty look. The music ends, and M 1 switches his attention to beginning the production. As each character speaks his or her first line, he or she drops the pose.)

M 1: When the Universe was not so out of whack as it is today

M 2: and all the stars were lined up in their proper places

F 2: so you could easily count them from left to right, or top to bottom,

M 1: when there was not a speck of dust to be found in outer space,

M 2: nor any nebular debris—

M 3: In those good old days it was the custom for constructors. 89

F 1: once they had received their Diploma of Perpetual Omnipo­ tence with distinction,

M 3: to sally forth ofttimes and bring to all the land the bene­ fit of their expertise.

M 1: (Crossing toward machine and clambering up boxes) Once upon a time (indicating self) Trurl the constructor built an eight-story thinking machine. (Standing in back of M 3 and suggesting actions as described) When it was finished, he gave it a coat of white paint, trimmed the edges in laven- dar, stepped back, squinted, then added a curlicue on the front and, where one might imagine the forehead to be, a few pale orange polka-dots. (Dusting his hands) Extremely pleased with himself, he whistled an air and, as is always done on such occasions, asked it the ritual question of how much is two plus two.

M 3: The machine stirred.

F 2 Its tubes began to glow,

F 1: its coils warmed up,

F 2: current coursed through all its circuits like a waterfall,

F 1: transformers hummed and throbbed,

F 2: there was a clanging,

F 1 and F 2: and a chugging. 90

F 1, F 2, and M 3: and such an ungodly racket

M 1: that Trurl began to think of adding a special mentation muffler.

M 3: Meanwhile the machine labored on, as if it had been given the most difficult problem in the Universe to solve;

F 2: the ground shook,

F 1: the sand slid underfoot from the vibration,

F 1, F 2, and M 3: valves popped like champagne corks,

F 1: the relays nearly gave way under the strain.

M 1: (Tapping his foot) At last, when Trurl had grown extremely impatient,

M 3: the machine ground to a halt

F 1 and F 2: and said in a voice like thunder:

M 3: "SEVEN!"

M 1: (Not too upset by this turn of events) "Nonsense, the answer is four. Now be a good machine and adjust yourself! What's two and two?" 91

M 3: (Snappishly) "SEVEN!"

M 1: (Again, Trurl's actions suit the words as he clambers around on the boxes, crawling, pounding, etc., as necessary to suggest—though not actually mime—the actions described) Trurl sighed and put his coveralls back on, rolled up his sleeves, opened the bottom trapdoor and crawled in. For the longest time, he hammered away inside, tightened, soldered, ran clattering up and down the metal stairs, now on the sixth floor, now on the eighth, then pounded back down to the bottom and threw a switch,

F 1: but something sizzled in the middle,

F 2: and the spark plugs grew blue whiskers.

M 1: After two hours of this he came out, covered with soot but satisfied, put all his tools away, took off his coveralls, wiped his face and hands. As he was leaving, he turned and asked, just so there would be no doubt about it: "And now what's two and two?"

M 3: "SEVEN!"

M 1: Trurl uttered a terrible oath and collapsed in despair at the foot of the machine; he sat there until Klapaucius (M 2 turns stool slightly in, toward center) found him.

M 2: (Crosses to Trurl) Klapaucius inquired what was wrong, for Trurl looked as if he had just returned from a funeral.

M 1: Trurl explained the problem. 92

M 2: (Again, Klapaucius's actions suggest the words) Klapaucius crawled into the machine himself a couple of times, tried to fix this and that, then asked it for the sum of one plus two,

M 3: which turned out to be six.

F 1: One plus one,

F 2: according to the machine,

F 1, F 2, and M 3: equaled zero.

M 2: Klapaucius scratched his head, cleared his throat and said: "My friend, you'll just have to face it. That isn't the machine you wished to make. However, there's a good side to everything, including this."

M 1: "What good side?" (Kicks base of machine, where he is sitting)

M 3: "Stop that."

M 2: "H'm, it's sensitive too. But where was I? Oh yes . . . there's no question but that we have here a stupid machine, and not merely stupid in the usual, normal way, oh no! This is, as far as I can determine—and you know that I am some­ thing of an expert—this is the stupidest thinking machine in the entire world, and that's nothing to sneeze at! To construct deliberately, such a machine would be far from easy; in fact, I would say that no one could manage it. For 93

the thing is not only stupid, but stubborn as a mule, that is, it has a personality in common to idiots!"

M 1: (Stands) "What earthly use do I have for such a machine?!" (M 1 kicks it again)

M 3: "I'm warning you, you better stop!"

M 2: "A warning, if you please. Not only is it sensitive, dense and stubborn, but quick to take offense, and believe me, with such an abundance of qualities there are all sorts of things you might do!"

M 1: (Moving closer to M 2) "What, for example?"

M 2: "Well, it's hard to say offhand. You might put it on exhibit and charge admission; people would flock to see the stupidest thinking machine that ever was. And the exhibi­ tion would not only cover your costs, but—"

M 1: (Turning away in irritation) "Enough, I'm not holding an exhibition!" Trurl, unable to restrain himself, (Does it) kicked the machine once more.

M 3: "This is your third warning,"

M 1: "What? You , . . you . . . You're only good for kicking, you know that?"

M 3: "You have insulted me for the fourth, fifth, sixth, and eighth times. Therefore I refuse to answer all further questions of a mathematical nature." 94

M 1: "It refuses! Do you hear that? After six comes eight—did you notice, Klapaucius?—not seven, but eight! And that's the kind of mathematics His Highness refuses to perform! (Kicking machine a few more times) Take that! And that! And that! Or perhaps you'd like some more?"

F 2: The machine shuddered, shook, and without another word started to lift itself from its foundations.

F 1: It bore down on Trurl and Klapaucius like a moving fortress.

M 1: Trurl was so dumbfounded that he didn't even try to hide from the machine,

M 1 and

F 1: which to all appearances intended to crush him to a pulp.

M 2: But Klapaucius grabbed his arm and yanked him away,

M 1 and M 2: and the two of them took to their heels.

(M 1 and M 2 begin to move slightly away from the machine in the direction of M I's stool, their manner suggesting haste. They stop about halfway there.)

M 2: When they finally looked back,

M 1 and M 2: they saw the machine

M 1, M 2, and F 1: swaying like a high tower, 95

M 1, M 2, F 1, and F 2: advancing slowly,

ALL: and heading straight for them.

M 1: ("Huddling" with M 2) "Whoever heard of such a thing? Why, this is mutiny! What do we do now?"

M 2: "Wait and watch. We may learn something."

F 1, F 2, and M 3: But there was nothing to be learned just then.

F 2: The machine was gathering momentum,

F 1: clearly bent on running them down,

M 1 and M 2: so they fled just as fast as they could,

M 2: the fearful rhythm of crunching steps in their ears.

M 1: They ran and ran—

M 2: what else could they do?

M 1: They tried to make it back to their native district,

M 3: but the machine outflanked them, cut them off, forced them deeper and deeper into a wild uninhabited region.

F 1: Mountains, dismal and craggy, slowly rose out of the mist. 96

M 1* Listen! Let's turn into some narrow canyon . . . where it won't be able to follow us. . . ."

(M 1 and M 2 finish the cross to M I's stool during the following description. They use the stool as the cave, hiding behind it.)

M 2: So they raced uphill,

M 1: stumbling and waving their arms to keep their balance,

M 3: but the machine still gained on them.

M 1: Scrambling up over the gravel of a dried out riverbed,

M 2: they reached a crevice in the perpendicular rock

M 1: and, seeing high above them the murky mouth of a cave, began to climb frantically toward it,

M 2: no longer caring about the loose stones that flew from under their feet,

M 1: The opening in the rock breathed chill and darkness,

M 2: As quickly as they could, they leaped inside, ran a few extra steps, then stopped.

M 1: "Well, here at least we're safe. I'll just take a look, to see where it got stuck. ..."

M 2: "Be careful," 97

M 1: (Inching around to peep over top of stool) Trurl inched his way to the edge of the cave, leaned out, and (Does it) immediately jumped back in fright. "It's coming up the mountain!!"

M 2: "Don't worry, it'll never be able to get in here. But what's that? Is it getting dark? Oh no!"

F 1= At that moment a great shadow blotted out the bit of sky visible through the mouth of the cave,

F 2: and in its place appeared a smooth steel wall with rows of rivets.

M 3: It was the machine slowly closing with the rock,

M 1, M 2, and M 3: thereby sealing up the cave as if with a mighty metal lid.

M 1: "We're trapped. ..."

M 2: "That was idiotic on our part! To jump into a cave it could barricade! How could we have done such a thing?"

M 1: "What do you think it's waiting for now?"

M 2: "For us to give up—that doesn't take any great brains."

M 1: (Creeps around stool again, using his hand to grope toward "machine" with M 2 close behind) Trurl crept into the darkness, hands outstretched, in the direction of the opening, running his fingers along the stone until he 98

touched the smooth steel, which was warm, as if heated from within. . ."

M 3: "I feel Trurl ..."

M 1: (Jumps back, almost knocking M 2 over) Trurl hastily retreated, took a seat alongside his friend, and for some time they sat there, motionless.

M 2: "There's no sense our just sitting here. I'll try to reason with it. ..."

M 1: "That's hopeless. But go ahead. Perhaps it will at least let you go free. ..."

M 2: (Patting M I's shoulder) "Now, now, none of that!" And Klapaucius groped his way toward the mouth of the cave and called: "Hello out there, can you hear us?"

M 3: "Yesll-tT , H

M 2: "Listen, we'd like to apologize. You see . . . well, there was a little misunderstanding, true, but it was nothing, really. Trurl had no intention of . . ."

M 3: "I'll pulverize Trurl! But first he'll tell me how much two and two makes."

M 2: "Of course he will, of course he will, and you'll be happy with his answer, and make it up with him for sure: isn't that right, Trurl?"

M 1: "Yes, of course , , ." 99

M 3: "Really? Then how much is two and two?"

M 1: "Fo . . , that is, seven ..."

M 3: "Ha! Not four, but seven, eh? There, I told you so!"

M 2: "Seven, yes, seven, we always knew it was seven! Now will you, eh, let us go?"

M 3: "No. Let Trurl say how sorry he is and tell me how much is two times two ..."

M 1: "And you'll let us go if I do?"

M 3: "I don't know. I'll think about it. I'm not making any deals. What's two times two?"

M 1: "But you probably will let us go, won't you?"

M 2: (Aside to M 1) "The thing's an imbecile, don't argue with it, for heaven's sake!"

M 3: "I won't let you go, if I don't want to. You just tell me how much two times two is."

M 1: (In a sudden rage) "I'll tell you, I'll tell you all right. Two and two is four and two times two is four, even if you stand on your head, pound these mountains all to dust, drink the ocean dry and swallow the sky—do you hear? Two and two is four!!"

M 2: "Trurl! What are you saying? Have you taken leave of your senses? Two and two is seven, nice machine! Seven, seven!!" 100

M 1: "No! It's four! Four and only four, four from the beginning to the end of time—FOUR!!"

F 1: The rock beneath their feet was seized with a feverish tremor.

F 2: The machine moved away from the cave, letting in a little pale light.

M 3: "That's not true. It's seven. Say it's seven or I'll hit you!"

M 1: "Never!"

M 1 and M 2: Pebbles and dirt rained down on their heads,

M 3: for the machine had begun to ram its eight-story hulk again and again into the wall of stone, hurling itself against the mountainside

F 2: until huge boulders broke away and went tumbling down into the valley.

F 1: Thunder and sulferous fumes filled the cave, and sparks flew from the blows of steel on rock. , . .

M 1: "Two and two is four! Two and two is four!!"

M 2: (Tries to put his hand over M I's mouth, but is bitten and then shaken off) Klapaucius attempted to shut his friend's mouth by force, but, violently thrown off, he gave up, sat and covered his head with his arms. 101

F 1: Not for a moment did the machine's mad efforts flag, and it seemed that any moment now the ceiling would collapse, crush the prisoners and bury them forever.

M 2: But when they had lost all hope,

F 2: and the air was thick with acrid smoke and choking dust,

F 1: there was suddenly a horrible scraping,

F 2: and a sound like a slow explosion,

F 1: louder than all the maniacal banging and battering,

F 2: and the air whooshed,

F 1: and the black wall that blocked the cave was whisked away,

F 2: as if by a hurricane,

F 1: and monstrous chunks of rocks came crashing down after it. (Pause) The echoes of that avalanche still rumbled and reverberated in the valley below when the two friends (M 1 and M 2 peep over stool) peered out of their cave.

(M 1 and M 2 cautiously emerge from behind the stool.)

M 1 and M 2: They saw the machine.

Ml: It lay smashed and flattened, nearly broken in half by an enormous boulder that had landed in the middle of its eight floors. 102

M 2: With the greatest care they picked their way down through the smoking rubble. (They carefully cross toward center during the descriptive passage) In order to reach the riverbed, it was necessary to pass the remains of the machine, which resembled the wreck of some mighty vessel thrown up upon a beach.

M 1: Without a word, the two stopped (They do, just shy of center) together in the shadow of its twisted hull.

M 3: The machine quivered slightly. . . .

M 1: (Gloating) "Yes, this is the bad end you've come to, and two and two is—as it always was—"

M 3: "SEVEN."

M 1: Then something snapped inside, and now before them lay nothing but a lifeless mass of scrap.

F 2: The two constructors exchanged a look

F 1: and walked back the way they came.

(During the preceding, M 1 and M 2 do exchange a look; M 2 puts his hand on M I's shoulder, and they take one more step toward center. Everyone freezes for a count of two. Then we hear another electronic tune, one that sounds like a little cart with one square wheel going along. M 3 stands, offers one hand to F 1, and she takes it, all matched to the musical beat. The process is repeated for F 2, The three then go through a series of stylized move­ ments which result in moving F 1 to the center position, F 2 to F I's original place, and M 3 to F 2's original 103

place. While this happens, M 1 tries to join in, but is repulsed by the three, who push him back toward M 2. M 2 catches M 1 as he staggers back, leads him into a turn, and sends him back to his own stool; M 2 returns to his stool. We are now ready for "Trurl's Electronic Bard." The music ends just as everyone is in place.)

M 1: Later it happened that in keeping with that ancient custom of sallying forth, Trurl and Klapaucius,

M 2: who could kindle or extinguish suns as easily as shelling peas,

M 1: attempted another such sally.

M 3: To avoid any possible misunderstanding, we should state that this was, strictly speaking, a sally to nowhere. In fact,

M 1: Trurl never left his house throughout it—except for a few trips to the hospital and an unimportant excursion to some asteroid.

F 2: Yet in a deeper and/or higher sense this was one of the furthest sallies ever attempted by the famed constructor,

M 3: for it very nearly took him beyond the realm of possi­ bility,

M 1: Trurl had once had the misfortune to build an enormous calculating machine that was capable of only one operation, namely the addition of two and two, and that it did incor­ rectly. 104

M 2: From that time on Klapaucius teased Trurl unmercifully,

M 1: until Trurl decided to silence him once and for all by building a machine that could write poetry.

F 2: First Trurl collected eight hundred and twenty tons of books on cybernetics and twelve thousand tons of the finest poetry,

M 1: then sat down to read it all. Whenever he felt he just couldn't take another chart or equation, he would switch over to verse,"and vice versa. After a while it became clear to him that the construction of the machine itself was child's play in comparison with the writing of the program.

M 3: The program found in the head of an average poet, after all, was written by the poet's civilization,

F 2: and that civilization was, in turn, programmed by the civilization that preceded it, and so on to the very Dawn of Time,

M 3: when those bits of information that concerned the poet-to- be were still swirling about in the primordial chaos of the cosmic deep.

F 2: Hence in order to program a poetry machine, one would have to repeat the entire Universe from the beginning—

M 3: or at least a good piece of it.

F 2: Anyone else in Trurl's place would have given up then and there. 105

M 1: (Standing and crossing toward the center box) but our intrepid constructor was nothing daunted. He built a machine and fashioned a digital model of the Void,

M 3: an Electrostatic Spirit to move upon the face of the electrolytic waters,

M 1: (Steps onto lower level of platform) and he introduced the parameter of light, (Steps onto next level) a protogalactic cloud or two, (Steps onto top level) and by degrees worked his way up to the first ice age—

F 2: Trurl could move at this rate because his machine was able, in one five-billionth of a second, to simulate one hundred septillion events at forty octillion different locations simultaneously.

M 3: And if anyone questions these figures, let him work it out for himself.

M 1: Next Trurl began to model Civilization,

F 2: the striking of fires with flints

M 3: and the tanning of hides,

F 2: and he provided for dinosaurs and floods,

M 1: then made the paleopaleface, which begat the paleface, which begat the gadget,

M 3: and so it went, from eon to millenium, the endless hum of electrical currents and eddies. 106

^ 2: Often the machine turned out to be too small for the com­ puter simulation of a new epoch,

M 3: and Trurl would have to tack on an auxiliary unit—

M 3: until he ended up with a veritable metropolis of tubes and terminals, circuits and shunts,

F 2: all so tangled and involved that the devil himself couldn't have made head or tail of it.

M 1: But Trurl managed somehow, he only had to go back twice— once, almost to the beginning when he discovered that Abel had murdered Cain and not Cain Abel (the result, apparently, of a defective fuse) and once, only three hundred million years back to the middle of the Mesozoic, when after going from fish to amphibian to reptile to mammal, something odd took place among the primates, and instead of great apes he came out with gray drapes. Otherwise everything went like a dream.

F 2: Spool after spool of computerized history was filled and ejected into storage bins; soon there were so many spools, that even if you stood at the top of the machine with binoculars, you wouldn't see the end of them.

M 3: And all to construct some versifier!

F 2: But then such is the way of scientific fanaticism.

M 3: At least the programs were ready; all that remained was to pick the most applicable—else the electropoet's education would take several million years at the very least. 107

M 1: During the next two weeks Trurl fed general instructions into his future electropoet, then set up all the necessary logic circuits, emotive elements, semantic centers. (Starts to climb down from behind F 1, but then comes back) He was about to invite Klapaucius to attend a trial run, but thought better of it and started the machine him­ self.

F 1: It immediately began to deliver a lecture on the grinding of crystallographical surfaces as an introduction to the study of submolecular magnetic anomalies.

M 1: (Works on machine as appropriate during following section) Trurl bypassed half the logic circuits and made the emotive more electromotive;

F 1: the machine sobbed, went into hysterics, then finally said, blubbering terribly, what cruel, cruel world this was.

M 1: Trurl intensified the semantic fields and added a strength of character component;

F 1: the machine informed him that from now on he would carry out its every wish and to begin with add six floors to the nine it already had, so it could better meditate upon the meaning of existence.

M 1: Trurl installed a philosophical throttle instead;

F 1: the machine fell silent and sulked.

M 1: Only after endless cajoling was he able to get it to recite something: 108

F 1: "I had a little froggy."

F 2: That appeared to exhaust its repertoire.

M 1: (Moving from level to level) Trurl adjusted, modulated,

expostulated, disconnected, ran checks, reconnected, reset, did everything he could think of.

F 1: and the machine presented him with a poem

M 1: that made him thank heaven Klapaucius wasn't there to laugh—imaginei simulating the Universe from scratch, not to mention Civilization in every particular, and to end up with such dreadful doggeral! Trurl put in six cliche filters,

F 2: but they snapped like matches;

Ml: he had to make them out of pure corundum steel.

M 3: This seemed to work.

Ml: so he jacked the semanticity up all the way, plugged in an alternating rhyme generator—

M 3: which nearly destroyed everything,

F 1: since the machine resolved to become a missionary among destitute tribes on far-flung planets.

M 1: But at the very last minute, just as he was ready to give up and take a hammer to it, Trurl was struck by an inspiration; tossing out all the logic circuits, he 109

replaced them with self-regulating egocentripetal narcis- sators.

F 1: The machine simpered a little, whimpered a little, laughed bitterly, complained of an awful pain on its third floor, said that in general it was fed up, through, life was beautiful but men were such beasts and how sorry they'd all be when it was dead and gone. Then it asked for pen and paper.

M 1: Trurl sighed with relief, switched it off (Crosses to M 2) and went to see Klapaucius.

M 2: (As he and M 1 come toward the machine) Klapaucius, hearing that he was invited to attend the debut of Trurl's elec­ tronic bard, dropped everything and followed—so eager was he to be an eyewitness to his friend's humiliation.

M 1: (Climbs onto center boxes, tinkers, and stands behind F 1 as appropriate during the following) Trurl let the machine warm up first, kept the power low, ran up the metal stairs several times to take readings—till finally satisfied all the decimal places were where they ought to be, he said, yes, it was ready now, and why not start with something simple. Later, of course, when the machine had gotten the feel of it, Klapaucius could ask it to produce poetry on absolutely whatever topic he liked,

F 2: Now the potentiometers indicated the machine's lyrical capacity was charged to maximum,

M 1: and Trurl, so nervous his hands were shaking, threw the master switch. 110

F 1: "Phlogisticosh. Rhomothriglyph. Floof."

M 2: "Am I missing something?"

M 1: (Again "tinkers" with machine as suggested by description) Trurl waved his arms in despair, dashed clattering several flights up the metal stairs, got down on all fours and crawled into the machine through a trapdoor; he hammered away inside, swearing like a maniac, tightened something, pried at something, crawled out again and ran frantically to another tier. At long last he let out a cry of triumph, threw a burnt tube over his shoulder—

M 3: it bounced off the railing and fell to the floor, shattering at the feet of Klapaucius.

(M 2 reacts to the tube's shattering.)

M 1: But Trurl didn't bother to apologize, he quickly put in a new tube, wiped his hands on a chammy cloth and hollered down for Klapaucius to try it now.

(M 2 switches the machine on.)

F 1: "Mockles! Fent on silpen tree, Blockards three a-feening, Mockles, what silps came to thee In thy pantry dreaming?"

M 1: "Well, that's an improvement! The last line particularly, did you notice?"

M 2: "If this is all you have to show me . . ." Ill

M 1: "Damn!" Trurl yanked out a few cables in a fury,

F 2: something rattled and wheezed,

F 1: the machine fell silent.

M 2: (Reacting and sitting) Klapaucius laughed so hard he had to sit on the floor.

M 3: Then suddenly,

Ml: as Trurl was rushing back and forth,

M 3: there was a crackle and a clack. . . .

F 1: "The Petty and the Small Are overcome with gall When Genius, having faltered, fails to fall.

"Klapaucius too, I ween. Will turn the deepest green To hear such flawless verse from Trurl's machine,"

M 1: (Having reacted to this with delight, starts down from boxes to floor) "There you are, an epigram! And wonderfully apropos!"

M 2: Klapaucius, quite taken aback, was no longer laughing. "What, that? That's nothing. Besides, you had it all set up beforehand."

M 1: "Set up?" 112

M 2: (Rising) "Oh, it's quite obvious ... the ill-disguised hostility, the poverty of thought, the crudeness of execution."

M 1: "All right, then ask it something else! Whatever you like! Go on! What are you waiting for? Afraid?!

M 2: "Just a minute." Klapaucius was trying to think of a request as difficult as possible. "Have it compose a poem—a poem about a haircut! But lofty, noble, tragic, timeless, full of love, treachery, retribution, quiet heroism in the face of certain doom! Six lines, cleverly rhymed, and every word beginning with the letter s^l !"

M 1: "And why not throw in a full exposition of the general theory of nonlinear automata while you're at it? How dare you waste a great talent on such drivel? (Turns back on Klapaucius and goes to sit down on first level beside machine) Either give it decent poems to write or I call the whole thing off!"

M 2: "What, that isn't a decent poem?"

M 1: "Certainly not? I didn't build a machine to solve ridiculous crossword puzzles! That's hack work, not Great Art! Just give it a topic, any topic, as difficult as you like . II

M 2: Klapaucius thought and thought some more. Finally he nodded and said: "Very well. Let's have a love poem, lyrical, pastoral, and expressed in the language of pure mathematics. Tensor algebra mainly, with a little topology and higher calculus, if need be. But with feeling, you understand, and in the cybernetic spirit." 113

M 1: (Stands and strides toward M 2) "Love and tensor angebra? Have you taken leave of your senses?"

(As F 1 recites, the tension drains from M I's body to be replaced with wonder and pride; M 2, however, is definitely not pleased with the turn of events.)

F 1: "Come, let us hasten to a higher plane. Where dyads tread the fairy fields of Venn, Their indices bedecked from one to n_. Commingled in an endless Markov chain!

"Come, every frustum longs to be a cone. And every vector dreams of matrices . . . Hark to the gentle gradient of the breeze: It whispers of a more ergodic zone.

"In Riemann, Hilbert, or in Banach space Let superscripts and subscripts go their ways. Our as3nnptotes no longer out of phase. We shall encounter, counting, face to face.

"I'll grant thee random access to my heart. Thou'It tell me all the constants of thy love; And so we two shall all love's lemmas prove. And in our bound partition never part.

"I see the eigenvalue in thine eye, I hear the tender tensor of thy sigh. Bernoulli would have been content to die, 2 Had he but known such a cos 2$!"

M 3: This concluded the poetic competition, 114

M 2: (Crossing to stool and sitting) since Klapaucius suddenly had to leave, saying he would return shortly with more topics for the machine;

F 2: but he never did.

M 1: (Strolls casually and smugly to his stool) Trurl of course let it be known that Klapaucius fled in order to hide his envy and chagrin.

M 2: (Swivels slightly on stool, with an air of disdain, so his back is toward"F 1) Klapaucius meanwhile spread the word that Trurl had more than one screw loose on the subject of that so-called mechanical versifier.

M 3: Not much time went by before news of Trurl's computer laureate reached the genuine—that is, the ordinary—poets.

F 2: Deeply offended, they resolved to ignore the machine's existence.

M 3: A few, however, were curious enough to visit Trurl's electronic bard in secret.

F 1: It received them courteously, in a hall piled high with closely written paper (for it worked night and day).

F 2: Now these poets were all avant-garde

F 1: and Trurl's machine wrote only in the traditional manner;

M 1: Trurl, 115

F 1: no connoisseur of poetry,

M 1: had relied heavily on the classics in setting up the program.

F 2: The machine's guests jeered and left in triumph.

F 1: The machine was self-programming however, and in addition had a special ambition-amplifying mechanism with glory- seeking circuits, and very soon a great change took place.

M 3: Its poems became difficult, ambiguous, so intricate and charged with meaning that they were totally incompre­ hensible.

F 2: When the next group of poets came to mock and laugh,

F 1: the machine replied with an improvisation that was so modern, it took their breath away,

F 2: and the second poem seriously weakened a certain sonneteer who had two State awards to his name, not to mention a statue in the city park.

M 3: After that, no poet could resist the fatal urge to cross lyrical swords with Trurl's electronic bard. They came from far and wide, carrying trunks and suitcases full of manuscripts.

F 1: The machine would let each challenger recite, instantly grasp the algorithm of his verse, and use it to compose an answer in exactly the same style,

F 2: only two hundred and twenty to three hundred and forty- seven times better. 116

F 1: The machine quickly grew so adept at this, that it could cut down a first-class rhapsodist with no more than one or two quatrains.

M 3: But the worst of it was, all the third-rate poets emerged unscathed; being third-rate, they didn't know good poetry from bad and consequently had no inkling of their crushing defeat,

F 2: One of them, true, broke his leg when, on the way out, he tripped over an epic poem the machine had just completed, a prodigious work beginning with the words:

F 1: "Arms and machines I sing . II

M 3: The true poets, on the other hand, were decimated by Trurl's electronic bard, though it never laid a finger in them.

F 2: First an aged elegiast, then two modernists committed suicide, leaping off a cliff that unfortunately happened to lie hard by the road leading from Trurl's place to the nearest train station.

M 3: There were many poet protests staged, demonstrations, demands that the machine be served an injunction to cease and desist.

F 2: But no one else seemed to care. In fact, magazine editors generally approved.

F 1: Trurl's electronic bard writing under several thousand dif­ ferent pseudonyms at once, had a poem for every occasion, to fit whatever length might be required, and of such high 117

quality that the magazine would be torn from hand to hand by eager readers.

M 3: On the street one could see enraptured faces, bemused smiles, sometimes even hear a quiet sob.

F 2: Everyone knew the poem's of Trurl's electronic bard, the air rang with its delightful rhymes.

M 3: Not infrequently, those citizens of a greater sensitivity,

F 2: struck by a particularly marvelous metaphor or assonace,

M 3: would actually fall into a faint.

M 1: Trurl himself had no little trouble in connection with his invention. The classicists, generally elderly, were fairly harmless; they confined themselves to throwing stones through his window and smearing the sides of his house with an unmentionable substance. But it was much worse with the younger poets. One, for example, as powerful in body as his verse was in imagery, beat Trurl to a pulp.

F 2: And while the constructor lay in the hospital, events marched on. Not a day passed without a suicide or a funeral; picket lines formed around the hospital; one could hear gunfire in the distance—

M 3: instead of manuscripts in their suitcases, more and more poets were bringing rifles to defeat Trurl's electronic bard.

F 1: But the bullets merely bounced off its calm exterior. 118

M 1: After his return from the hospital, Trurl, weak and desper­ ate, finally decided one night to (Rises, crosses to machine) dismantle the homeostatic Homer he had created. But when he approached the machine, limping slightly,

M 1 and F 1: it noticed the pliers in his hand and the grim glitter in his eye,

F 1: and delivered such an eloquent, impassioned plea for mercy,

M 1: (Distraught, returns to stool) that the constructor burst into tears, threw down his tools and hurried back to his room, wading through new piles of genius. (Sits) The following month Trurl received a bill for the electricity consiimed by the machine and almost fell off his chair. If only he could consult his old friend Klapaucius!

M 2: (Very smug) But Klapaucius was nowhere to be found.

M 1: (Standing and moving down toward audience) So Trurl had to come up with something himself. One dark night he unplugged the machine, took it apart, loaded it onto a ship, flew to a certain small asteroid, and there assembled it again, giving it an atomic pile for its source of creative energy. ("Sneaks" back to stool, sits) Then he sneaked home.

F 1: The electronic bard deprived now of the possibility of having its masterpieces published, began to broadcast them on all wavelengths, 119

F 2: which soon sent the passengers and crews of passing rockets into states of stanzaic stupefaction, and those more deli­ cate souls were seized with severe attacks of esthetic ecstasy besides.

M 3: Having determined the cause of this disturbance, the Cosmic Fleet Command issued Trurl an official request for the immediate termination of his device.

Ml: At that point Trurl went into hiding, (Swivels on stool so back is toward audience, huddles down)

M 3: so they dropped a team of technicians on the asteroid to gag the machine's output unit.

F 1: It overwhelmed them with a few ballads, however,

F 2: and the mission had to be abandoned.

M 3: Deaf technicians were sent next,

F 1: but the machine employed pantomime.

F 2: After that there began to be talk of an eventual punitive expedition, of bombing the electropoet into submission.

M 3: But just then some ruler from a neighboring star system came, bought the machine and hauled it off, asteroid and all, to his kingdom.

M 1: (Swivels on stool to rejoin scene) Now Trurl could appear in public again and breathe easy. 120

F 2: True, lately there had been supernovae exploding on the southern horizon, and there were some rumors that this had something to do with poetry.

M 3: According to one report, that same ruler, moved by some strange whim, had ordered his astroengineers to connect the electronic bard to a constellation of white super-giants, thereby transforming each line of verse into a stupendous solar prominence.

M 1: But even if there were any truth to this, it was all too far away to bother Trurl, who vowed by everything that was ever held sacred never, never again to make a cybernetic model of the Muse.

(Once again, we have a freeze of 2 counts, then hear the little cart music again. The narrators perform basically the same steps as before, so that F 2 winds up in the center position with F 1 to her right and M 3 to her left. M 1 and M 2, meanwhile, approach each other warily at first, but then with their friendly feelings winning through as they meet at center stage and do a little dance step or two of their own before returning to their stools. Everyone sits as the music ends. We are ready for "How the World Was Saved,")

M 1: One day Trurl the constructor put together a machine that could create anything starting with n. When it was ready, (Stands, crosses to machine) he tried it out, ordering it to make needles, then nankeens and negligees,

F 2: which it did. 121

M 1: Still not completely sure of its abilities, (Climbs boxes to stand behind F 2) he had it produce, one after the other, nimbuses, noodles, nuclei, neutrons, maptha, noses, nymphs, naiads, and natrium.

F 2: This last it could not do,

M 1: and Trurl, considerably irritated, demanded an explanation.

F 2: "Never heard of it."

M 1: "What? It's only sodium. You know, the metal, the element

II • • •

F 2: "Sodium starts with an s^, and I only work in ii. "

M 1: "But in Latin it's natrium."

F 2: "Look, old boy, if I could do everything starting with ri in every possible language, I'd be a Machine That Could Do Everything in the Whole Alphabet, since any item you care to mention undoubtedly starts with n. in one foreign language or another. It's not that easy. I can't go beyond what you programmed. So no sodium."

M 1: "Very well." Then Trurl ordered it to make Night,

F 2: which it made at once—

F 1: small perhaps,

M 3: but perfectly nocturnal. 122

M 1: (Goes down, crosses to M 2 and brings him back to center stage) Only then did Trurl invite over his friend Klapaucius the constructor, and introduced him to the machine, praising its extraordinary skill at such length,

M 2: that Klapaucius grew annoyed and inquired whether he too might not test the machine.

M 1: (Sitting on first level, slightly to F 2's right) "Be ray guest. But it has to start with n_."

M 2: "N? All right,' let it make Nature."

M 3: In a trice Trurl's front yard was packed with naturalists

F 1: They argued,

M 3: each publishing heavy volumes,

F 1: which the others tore to pieces; M 3: in the distance one could see flaming pyres,

F 1: on which martyrs to nature were sizzling;

F 1, F 2, and M 3: there was thunder,

F 1 and M 3: and strange mushroom-shaped columns of smoke rose up; 123

F 1, F 2, and M 3: (Overlapping each other) everyone talked at once,

M 3: no one listened,

F 1: and there were all sorts of memoranda, appeals, subpoenas, and other documents,

M 3: while off to the side sat a few old men, feverishly scribbling on scraps of paper,

M 1: "Not bad, eh? Nature to a T, admit it!"

M 2: "What, that mob? Surely you're not going to tell me that's Nature?"

M 1: "Then give the machine something else. Whatever you like."

M 2: For a moment Klapaucius was at a loss for what to ask. But after a little thought he declared that he would put two more tasks to the machine; if it could fulfill them, he would admit that it was all Trurl said it was.

M 1: Trurl agreed to this,

M 2: whereupon Kalpaucius requested Negative.

M 1: "Negative?! What on earth is Negative?"

M 2: "The opposite of positive, of course. Negative attitudes, the negative of a picture, for example. Now don't try to pretend you never heard of Negative. All right, machine, get to work!" 124

F 2: The machine, however, had already begun. First it manufac­ tured antiprotons, then antielectrons, antineutrons, anti- neutrinos, and labored on, until from out of all this antimatter an antiworld took shape,

M 1, M 2, and F 2: glowing like a ghostly cloud above their heads.

M 2: "H'm, that's supposed to be Negative? Well . . . let's say it is, for the sake of peace. . . . But now here's the third command:' Machine, do Nothing!"

M 3: The machine sat still.

M 1: "Well, what did you expect? You asked it to do nothing, and it's doing nothing."

M 2: "Correction, I asked it to do Nothing and it's doing nothing,"

M 1: "Nothing is nothing."

M 2: "Come, come. It was supposed to do Nothing, but it hasn't done anything and therefore I've won. For Nothing, my dear and clever colleague, is not your run-of-the-mill nothing, the result of idleness and inactivity, but dynamic, aggres­ sive Nothingness, that is to say, perfect, unique, ubiqui­ tous, in other words Nonexistence!"

M 1: (Striding angrily toward M 2) "You're confusing the machine!" 125

F 2: "Really how can you two bicker at a time like this? Oh yes, I know what Nothing is, and Nothingness, Nonexistence, Non­ entity, Negation, Nullity and Nihility, since all these come under the heading of n, n as in Nil. Look then upon your world for the last time, gentlemen! Soon it shall no longer be . . ."

M 1 and M 2: The constructors froze, forgetting their quarrel,

F 2: for the machine was in actual fact doing Nothing,

F 1, F 2, and M 3: and it did it in this fashion:

F 2: one by one, various things were removed from the world,

M 3: and the things, thus removed, ceased to exist,

ALL: as if they had never been.

F 2: The machine had already disposed of nolars, nightzebs, noes, necs, nallyrakers, neotremes, and nonmalrigers.

F 1: At moments, though, it seemed that instead of reducing, diminishing, and subtracting, the machine was increasing, enhancing, and adding,

F 2: since it liquidated, in turn: nonconformists, nonentities, nonsense, nonsupport, nearsightedness, narrow-mindedness, naughtiness, neglect, nausea, necrophilia and nepotism. 126

M 3: But after a while the world very definitely began to thin out around Trurl and Klapaucius.

M 1: Ohmigosh! If only nothing bad comes out of all of this ..."

M 2: "Don't worry. You can see it's not producing Universal Nothingness, but only causing the absence of whatever starts with n. Which is really nothing in the way of nothing, and nothing, dear Trurl, is what your machine is worth!"

F 2: "Do not be deceived. I've begun, it's true, with everything in ri, but only out of familiarity. To create however is one thing, to destroy another thing entirely. I can blot out the world for the simple reason that I'm able to do anything and everything—and everything means everything—in ri, and consequently Nothingness is child's play for me. In less than a minute now you will cease to have existence, along with everything else, so tell me now, Klapaucius, and quickly that I am really and truly everything I was pro­ grammed to be, before it is too late."

M 2: "But—" Klapaucius was about to protest, but noticed, just then, that a number of things were indeed disappearing,

M 1 and M 2: and not merely those that started with ri.

ALL: The constructors were no longer surrounded by the gruncheons,

M 1, M 2, F 1, and F 2: the targalisks. 127

M 1, M 2, and F 2: the thirsts.

M 1 and M 2: worches.

M 1: and pritons.

M 2: "Stop! I take it all back! Desist! Whoa! Don't do Nothing!"

F 2: But before the machine could come to a full stop,

F 1, F 2, and M 3: all the brashations,

F 2 and

M 3: pulsters,

F 2: laries

M 2: and zits had vanished away.

F 2: Now the machine stood motionless.

F 1: The world was a dreadful sight.

M 3: The sky had particularly suffered:

M 1: (Backing up slowly to sit on first level to F 2's right, stunned) there were only a few, isolated points of light in the heavens— 128

M 2: no trace of the glorious worches and zits

M 1 and M 2: that had, till now, graced the horizon!

M 2: "Great Gauss! And where are the gruncheons? Where now the gentle zits?"

F 2: "They no longer are, nor ever will exist again. I executed, or rather only began to execute, your order ..."

M 2: "I tell you to'do Nothing, and you . . . you ..."

F 2: "Klapaucius, don't pretend to be a greater idiot than you are. Had I made Nothing outright, in one fell swoop, everything would have ceased to exist, and that includes Trurl, the sky, the Universe, and you—and even myself. In which case who could say and to whom could it be said that the order was carried out and I am an efficient and capable machine?"

M 2: "Yes, fine, let's drop the subject. I have nothing more to ask of you, only please, dear machine, please return the zits, for without them life loses all its charm ..."

F 2: "But I can't, they're in z^. Of course, I can restore nonsense, narrow-mindedness, nausea, necrophilia, neuralgia, nefariousness, and noxiousness. As for the other letters, however, I can't help you."

M 2: "I want my zits!" 129

F 2: "Sorry, no zits. Take a good look at this world, how riddled it is with huge gaping holes, how full of Nothing­ ness. This is your work, envious one! And I hardly think future generations will bless you for it . . ."

M 2: "Perhaps . . . they won't find out, perhaps they won't notice."

M 1: Leaving Trurl beside the machine that could do everything

in II,

M 2: (Crossing miserably to his stool and sitting) Klapaucius skulked home—

F 1: and to this day the world has remained honeycombed with nothingness,

M 3: exactly as it was when halted in the course of its liquida­ tion.

F 1: And as all subsequent attempts to build a machine on any other letter met with failure,

M 3: it is to be feared that never again will we have such marvelous phenomena as the worches and the zits—

F 1, F 2, and M 3: no, never again.

(Once more, a freeze and a count of two. Different music is heard this time. There is a definite strain of melan­ choly to it, but it is more thoughtful than depressing. During the introduction, M 1 looks up and then over to M 2, 130 who is obviously miserable, grieving for his zits and the other destruction he has caused. As the music moves into the main theme of the piece, M 1 rises and crosses to M 2 and comforts him. M 2 rises, too, and they cross the stage arm in arm to exit, comforting each other. As the con­ structors cross center stage, the narrators rise in unison. M 3 helps F 2 down from the upper level, leading her around so she is on his left. They cross together to reach F 1; M 3 offers her his hand to help her get down from the lower level, and she joins the other two on M 3's right. They also exit arm in arm, but they are cool and collected, just a few steps behind the constructors. After everyone is gone, the music continues while the stage lights dim slightly and then are gradually brought up with the house lights to normal levels.) APPENDIX C. FIGURES

1. Ground Plan 2. Elevation of Center Arrangement

131 132 o if}

o

Figure 1. Ground Plan 133

UJ m3 UJ O CD 3 d U < UJ 2 CO O Qo: i <

^

Figure 2. Elevation of Center Arrangement APPENDIX D: AUDIENCE QUESTIONNAIRE

134 135

REACTIONS TO THE CYBERIAD As you write your critique of The Cyberiad, please answer the following questions on a separate sheet of paper. There are no right or wrong answers to these questions, only the impression the show made upon you. These answers will not be graded, but please answer in detail, as these answers are vital to the research based on this pro­ duction.

1. What are Trurl and Klapaucius like, both in terms of personality and physical presence?

2. What is their relationship to each other?

3. In what kind of society do they live? (Please provide as much detail as you can based on the production.)

4. How do Trurl and Klapaucius relate to that society?

5. Please give an estimate of how many years in the future or the past the stories take place. Do you think these stories take place on this planet or on another one?

6. Do you think these stories necessarily take place in the order in which they were presented? Why or why not?

7. What is the relationship between the physical setting used in this production and the metaworld of the literature?

8. Discuss the possible significance of the lighting used during the exit of the readers.

9. Are you familiar with any of Stanislaw Lem's writings? If so, please list those books you have read. 136

10. Please list your experiences in the field of oral interpretation (classes, performances, high school work, etc.).

Thank you for your cooperation in answering these questions!

Connie Tapp Bandy