Do you know everything?
THE EMPEROR
Only what takes place in… our empire. Perhaps I should say your empire. For it is yours, and since you created me I am part of it. You are my creator, therefore my god. I look to you for my well-being, my strength.
Dear God, what is this thing? Dennis wondered. It spoke of Harry's and Robin's and Tommy's deaths with only the outward semblance of compassion. Dennis had been an actor long enough to know when someone – or something – was dissembling, and this creature was doing just that. It seemed to Dennis that the thing had no conception of sympathy or the more tender human emotions. Dennis saw pride in abundance, but little else. Could it be that it was not in the creature's nature to feel the sympathetic emotions? Could it be that self-centered?
Still, when it spoke of him as its creator, its god, Dennis heard affection there and something more. Worship, perhaps? It was blasphemous, but Dennis felt it was sincere.
DENNIS
I don't know… I don't know what to say. (He gives a helpless laugh) I don't even know what to think. Except that I'm crazy.
THE EMPEROR
You are not insane. I am very real.
DENNIS
And if you're real, then what? What happens now? What do you do? What do I do with you?
THE EMPEROR
Shelter me. Be my god. I must remain here. I can go nowhere else. What nourishes me is here. You are here.
DENNIS
Can… other people see you?
THE EMPEROR
They should not. Not yet. They would not understand.
DENNIS
May I tell people?
THE EMPEROR
(He shrugs) Would they believe you?
DENNIS
But who are you? Who? Are you me?
THE EMPEROR
No. I am the Emperor. I am the character that you created, with all the character's emotions that you gave me.
DENNIS
That I gave you… (Startled, suddenly realizing) You said what nourishes you is here. Do you mean the theatre? The catharsis? Or me?
THE EMPEROR
(A pause) Both.
DENNIS
You take your strength from me?
THE EMPEROR
And why should I not take strength from my creator? You gave me life, so should I not draw my survival from you as well?
DENNIS
Strength… taking my strength?
(THE EMPEROR begins to fade away, his voice fading with him.)
THE EMPEROR
Farewell, my friend. We shall be together again.
DENNIS
Wait, wait!
THE EMPEROR
I cannot. I cannot. I am drawn away…
(THE EMPEROR is gone.)
Dennis stood for a long time listening, but he saw nothing more, heard no more words. When he regained the power of motion, a few steps brought him to the spot where the apparition, if such it was, had been standing.
There was nothing there. No trace of cold, no puddle of ectoplasm, no indentations in the thick pile carpet from ghostly feet.
'What in God's name…” Dennis said softly. Had something been there? Or had he been hallucinating? The thing had told him nothing that could not have come out of his own mind – the explanations of the deaths had all occurred to him. He supposed that even Robin's purported plot with the pin had crossed his mind. Still, it had seemed so damned real.
No. Not seemed. It was real. He was sure of it. He had never before had hallucinations, and his body was as drug free as anyone's could be. What he had seen he had seen, and its implications were staggering.
He had always thought that the Emperor had, in a strange way, a life of his own. Dennis had inhabited the character more than he had acted it, creating it like a tailor creates a suit of clothes that he plans to wear for a long time, building it up carefully, knowing that it would have to last.
But in the last year of the Emperor's reign on the stage, it had been as though the suit was wearing the tailor, and after some performances, Dennis, instead of feeling triumphant as he always had before, felt drained, as though more than energy had been taken from him, and something other than the audience was receiving the strength of his performance.
It was just as the Emperor had said – drawing life, and drawing sustenance. Did that explain, he wondered, why he had felt this tremendously diminishing change in his personality? Or was this Emperor-thing merely a 'creation' of his weary mind to try and rationalize (if however irrational) the unexplained change in his temperament?
He didn't know. The only thing he was sure of was that he had seen what he had seen, and that if he did not talk to someone about it, and soon, he might damn well go mad, if he wasn't already.
Sid was still awake, and answered the door quickly at Dennis's knock. He was watching an old Bogart movie on video with Donna Franklin. Dennis suspected that he had interrupted more than just the movie, but Sid graciously assured him that he would be glad to talk to him, gave Donna a kiss, and accompanied Dennis to his suite, where Dennis told him, in as much detail as he could recall, to whom he had spoken and what was said.
When he finished, Sid got up, went to the bar, poured two cognacs, and brought them back to the couch where they sat. 'Go ahead, drink it.' He did as Sid said. The warmth of the liquor and his friend's presence were reassuring.
'So what do you think?' he asked Sid.
Sid took a deep breath and another sip of his drink before he spoke. 'I think it's a projection.'
Dennis didn't understand. 'What, you mean a trick?'
'No. A psychic projection maybe. A projection of guilt.'
'Guilt. For what?'
'For Robin. And maybe even for Tommy and Harry Ruhl, I don't know. We've all been through a helluva lot, Dennis.'
'Then you don't believe me.'
'I do. I believe that you saw what you say you saw.'
'But you don't believe it was real. You think I imagined it.'
'I think… it was real to you.'
Dennis shot to his feet and started to pace. 'Oh, that's bullshit, Sid, and you know it. If you think I'm imagining things, tell me, for God's sake. Don't patronize me.”
