Karma Police

(A scientist, R, is in a lab. D enters, carrying two coffees, and hands one to R. D sits at a computer terminal. The computer blips.)

D: Another one just died.

R: Really? What happened this time?

D: Climbed into the polar bear enclosure at the zoo and was mauled to death.

R: Wow. How dumb can he be?

D: I don’t know. They should have higher levels of security so that kind of stuff doesn’t happen.

R: What, like put a giant a*s bear inside the cage, that will maul anyone who climbs in?

D: Yeah, something like that.

R: How many are left?

D: Five. (Sips his coffee.)

R: So we’re almost done! When we started this, I never thought we’d ever get this close to finishing.

D: Well, we’re not done yet.

R: But if we’re right…(beat)…we won’t have to wait that long.

(beat. A monitor blips.)

D: You’ll never believe this.

R: Another? Is it so?

D: It is!

R: How did this one go?

D: Well, it appears he reached the end of the internet.

R: What happened after that?

D: Looks like he just…(beat)…died.

R: Huh. I better uninstall stumbleupon. Amiright?

D: Shut up. We’ve got serious s**t to do. We’re doctors.

R (Laughing): Doctors? Maybe a long time ago. We have four subjects left. We’re so close to perfecting our hypothesis. But right now, we’re nobody. When we publish our paper we’ll be god damn famous. But right now, the Nobel Committee wouldn’t know us from Esau.

D: “Esau”?

R: What?

D: Nothing. (A computer blips.) Another!

R: Oh my, what happened now?
D: It seems subject 48 lost his mind and was subsequently murdered.

R: How so? What happened?

D: He was wandering in the back alleys of the Bronx late at night telling everyone he saw that Cheerios are actually doughnut seeds. Someone stabbed him.

R: What an idiot. (Beat.) That s**t doesn’t grow anything.

D: Three left! This is actually quite exciting.

R: That’s what I’m saying! I’m all giddy and whatnot.

D: I wouldn’t go that far. We have an obligation to remain clearheaded in order to document exactly what occurs to these poor, unfortunate subjects.

R: There you go humanizing them again. “Poor!” “Unfortunate!” Come on, stop it.

D: They are human. Did you forget? (Sips his coffee.)

R: They aren’t to me. They’re just 24,849 blips on a computer that bring me that much closer to that Nobel blood money.

D: 24,846 blips. Three are still alive.

R: At the rate they’re croaking we might see completion by lunch.

D: Don’t be so callous.

R: What? I’m hungry, and I don’t want any of them to go and die while I’m eating my leftover Thai from last night.

D: Didn’t you sequester yourself in the lavatory all night last night because of that Thai?

R: I have a problem. It hurts so good.

D: You are a problem.

R: The only problem here is I don’t have enough bowels to evacuate to make room for more Thai.

D: What are you going to do with your half of the prize money?

R: I’m going to buy a cake.

D: Really? All that money, and you want to buy a cake?

R: Well, not just any old cake, I’m gonna get the best cake money can buy.

D: What, like uranium?

R: No idiot, like a dark chocolate bundt shaped like the Millennium Falcon, covered in marzipan icing.

D: That does sound good.

R: It’ll be sooooooo good. Like awesome sex, except I’m going to have it.
D: It’ll last a long time too.

R: For days!

(A computer blips.)

D: Another!

R: Was it subject 2?

D: Negative. It was subject 8452.

R: Ah, I remember 8452. The ol’ Comeback King, alligator wrestler by trade, loved to hang glide…(Beat.)…Yeah I don’t remember s**t. How’d he die?

D: Smothered by the most comfortable pillow in the world.

R: Definitely wasn’t his pillow.

D: Not on his salary. (Sips his coffee.)

R: One left. Just one, and only one. Amazing. Subject 2 will get what’s coming to him, and then Nobel Prize Committee, get ready to get punched in the face with the hardest Science you’ve ever seen!

D: We’ll finally prove once and for all that being an a*****e is actually physically bad for you.

R: Karma is quantifiable. Can you even imagine their faces?

D: Not really. I don’t know what they look like and I’m not very creative.

R: Oh.

(Beat.)

D: Did I ever tell you how this study started?

R: Yes.

D: Did I ever tell you twice?

R: No.

D: Okay, so I had a checkup at the doctor a couple months ago. I waited in the goddamn lobby for over two hours. I was just starting to doze off when they called me back into one of the exam rooms-

R: What were you in the doctor’s office for?

D: I thought I told you this story.

R: I might have lied a little back there, sorry.

D (sighing): So I sit on this chair for at least another half hour, but I fall asleep again. I wake up and have no idea what time it is or how long I’ve been waiting, so twenty minutes later, after I finished reading the Hispanic Business Weekly, I start digging through the drawers in the exam table and his desk drawer. I find some dressing gowns and extra supplies and all that. And then I get to the drawer marked "OB/GYN". I open it up. Speculums and rectal dilators.

R: I don’t want to be a negative Nancy, but is there a point to this?

D: At this point I'm in his chair with about 40 rubber gloves in my pockets. I grab a speculum in each hand and start making them sing and talk like little ducks. The door opens and the doctor is standing there with my chart in his hand. He asked "Dr. Davidov?” I said "Yup," held up the speculums, said, "I got bored." Then he told me to get the f**k out of his office. I left. The next day, I see on the news, that a*****e got run over by a truck carrying busses. It was justice.

R: Karma!

D: That’s what I thought.

R: Brilliant!

(Beat.)

R: Have you ever been an a*****e to anyone?

D: Not really. (Sips his coffee.)

R: So it’s relative, then.

D: I guess.

R: I remember when we collected the subjects. God, I’ve never been so ashamed to be a human being. These people were a******s, with a capital a*****e. Each one of then was despicable. But there was one thing I did notice that was slightly off-putting.

D: What?

R: Well, as I began categorizing and cataloguing all these d*****s, I noticed that there was a varying degree of douchiness among them. Subject 463 wasn’t as douchy as 304, for example.

D: So?

R: Well, if the lesser d****e was killed by karma, then obviously the greater d****e must be killed, right?

D: Right.

R: But what if karma doesn’t care? What if you did one a*****e thing once that was so despicable that it overshadows every other good thing you’ve ever done since?

D: Karma is cold. Karma is king.

R: So there’s no avoiding it.

D: No alternate course.

R: That’s really not that fair.

D: Did you include this in your report?

R: Yes.

D: You mean the report containing the sentence “tjsot30 ht3-go -gjg3jg f393f-g”?

R: There was a spider on my keyboard and I freaked out, sorry.

D: Well, regardless, I read the report. No, it’s not fair. In fact it sucks. But you know what? You have to own up to your actions.

R: Is there no forgiveness?

D: Some things cannot be forgiven.

(R sips his coffee, chokes, and dies. D removes the poison from his coat pocket and sets it on the table. The computer blips.)