Misha Williams



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 81 
approach in understanding your father's truly cosmic 
destiny? 
 
BRIAN 
(Waking suddenly with anger) Will you shut up, all of 
you! You know nothing!  Fawcett freaks! They flock to 
Daddy's story like pigeons to Trafalgar Square. You find 
them in the library of the Royal Geographical Society, 
in dark corners, practically masturbating over Daddy's 
surviving letters. Can't they get a life? You find them 
lumbering raucously into the jungle in yellow designer 
jeeps heading for Dead Horse Camp. Terrifying the 
Indians and the wildlife. We passed some a few days 
ago. Americans of course. Self-appointed experts on 
Fawcett who know nothing about Daddy and concoct 
insane fantasies.  Jumping on Daddy's bandwagon like 
blood lusting leaches. Ugh. Well, there is a curse on 
those people….as "M" says and I believe her. 
I've run out of European standard bog paper. They 
were charging five pounds a roll in Cuiaba and I was 
foolish enough to only purchase one. I now have 
severe regrets about my frugality. "Bowel block" is the 
answer. "Bowel block" (He takes a tablet).  
Now. To find the messiah with the squint. Strangely 
enough I can't shake off a kind of indifference about 
Jack. It shocks me, because I'd like to be so hot with 
enthusiasm in the quest of him, that risks and 
obstacles would be ignored. Unhappily, this is not the 
case. I feel in my secret heart that if Jack is still 
surviving, he'd have made his life in accordance with 
his environment, and that it is his business to live it so. 
After all these years, the call of blood to blood is dim. 
And besides…it's extremely hot… 
 
He starts to doze off. 
 
"M" leads JACK onto the stage by the wrist and places him near BRIAN 
and leaves. JACK speaks with a slow calm voice. Very different from the 
earlier scenes.. 
 
JACK 
Brian….Brian… 
 
 


 82 
BRIAN looks up wearily not quite knowing where he is. 
 
JACK 
D'you recognize me by any chance?  
 
BRIAN 
Jack? I know that squint. Is it really Jack?… 
 
JACK 
Yes. 
 
BRIAN breaks into sobs and sobs so violently that he can't stand up. At 
last JACK helps him to his feet. JACK, wears a dirty long Indian smock, 
has long grey hair and beard like a beachcomber. 
 
BRIAN  
God, you look so young. Still a boy! Arcadia certainly 
agrees with you. Sorry…sorry to intrude on your idyllic 
existence. But we were getting rather anxious back 
home. We needed so badly to know what had 
happened. Don't tell me! You don't need to tell me 
right away. Let's just savour this for a moment…Your 
hands are wet. You've got malaria. Oh dear, I'm sorry. 
Is your health alright otherwise? I've got some 
medicines with me. Diarrhoea tablets, athletes' foot 
cream. If you need anything. Can you still speak 
English? Over forty years in the wilderness. You've 
beaten Moses' record. No one speaks English in this 
God forsaken country. Oh God, have you forgotten how 
to speak it? 
 
JACK 
(Singing quietly) "Fascinating rhythm, 
                          You've got me on the go. 
                          Fascinating rhythm 
                          The neighbours wanna know 
                          Why I'm always shaking… 
 
BRIAN 
That's American, old boy. I think you've confused…. 
 
 
 
 


 83 
JACK 
They never stopped playing it on the liner to Rio. It’s 
the last tune I remember. Since then nothing but 
occasional Indian chant and the odd passing gold 
prospector portable wireless. 
 
BRIAN 
…….You heard about World War II? 
 
JACK 
I heard something about a world war. From defeated 
Germans who came here in submarines. They still live 
in the forest out there. They said some man called 
Hitler was going to join them and start a new colony. 
 
BRIAN 
Well. Talking of colonies, Jack. What happened? What 
happened to the colony Daddy was going to start? Full 
of evolved Europeans who couldn't stand the mad 
capitalism that was taking over The West?  
 
JACK 
Nobody arrived. Not one customer. Remember Major 
Mien, the South African landowner, who promised 
money for the foundation? Harold Large?  
 
BRIAN 
Daddy's best friend. Harold Large. 
 
JACK 
When it came to the crunch…We waited and waited. 
 
BRIAN 
Nobody knew where you were. 
 
JACK 
Large knew exactly where we were. Daddy had given 
him the co-ordinates for the rendezvous point. 
 
BRIAN 
Nobody believed Large. Rescue parties went careering 
east looking for you when in fact you had gone west to 
the Tapajos. 
 


 84 
JACK 
We didn’t want rescuing. 
 
BRIAN  
A hundred people have died looking for you, Jack. 
 
JACK 
They just wanted to get away from their boring lives 
and used our "rescue" as an excuse. It was probably a 
fashionable alternative to joining the foreign legion. 
"Disappointed in love? Well then go and 'Look for 
Facet."  I'm not sorry for any of them. Daddy left a 
distinct last message. "Don't come looking for us!" We 
had a perfect right to disappear without being sought 
out by amateur adventurers who know nothing of our 
aims. 
 
                                 BRIAN 
There are no stone cities, either, are there?…And no 
sign of "Z"?  So, another dream goes on the scrap 
heap. It makes me laugh really. Thinking back on 
Daddy's optimism. The big house he'd buy in 
Sylvestre, overlooking Rio. Where all of us would 
foregather each Xmas. Possibly from the ends of the 
earth. Together with children and grand children. Of 
course with the presumed millions in the Fawcett 
coffers, travelling expenses would be no obstacle. And 
there was a two hundred ton ocean going yacht in the 
background of his family dreams. But what he didn't 
evoke in those sweet pictures is the inevitable 
corollary to vast wealth, duodenal ulcers. Maybe they 
weren't invented back in those dreamy times. We've 
both been duped Jack and cheated of our lives… 
 
JACK 
No.  
 
BRIAN 
Yes. You more than anyone. The child messiah that Buddhist 
sages worshipped? The evolved being that was to be presented 
to the Earth Guardians as Daddy's own proof of his final and 
supreme communion with the gods?  Well, just look at you now, 
Jack. You look like a vagrant. 
 


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