DIRECTOR: So that’s it…
CONSULTANT: Do you understand now? They loved their leader, but we, it turns out, love him even more. The upshot is that they’ll seem to be in cahoots with us, and there won’t be a thing they can say about it. And if they do arrange their own separate ceremony, everyone’ll be watching your beautiful show, not their pathetic little rally.
DIRECTOR: Gotcha.
CONSULTANT: By the way, we don’t much want too many people we don’t know at the funeral. It could get out of hand. Do you have any advice on how to make it so they won’t pose a threat?
DIRECTOR: Very simple. Announce that due to the huge influx of people, the city center is off-limits for traffic. Put up barriers, post police details, and bring in the special forces. Keep everybody, not just vehicles, away from the funeral venue, unless they have a pass.
CONSULTANT: Not a bad idea.
DIRECTOR: Nothing to it. It’s standard operating procedure for our mass spectacles.
CONSULTANT: But on the other hand, we also need to create the impression that people are flocking there to say farewell, and that they support us.
DIRECTOR: So, then, don’t let anyone in, but there have to be crowds. I get it. This isn’t my first time. I can set that up. Give me a division of soldiers in civilian clothes, and I’ll film them filing past the coffin fourteen times.
CONSULTANT: (takes her phone out) I need to issue some orders right now.
DIRECTOR: I thought you’d done that a long time ago.
CONSULTANT: I see your great reputation isn’t just talk.
DIRECTOR: That’s why they pay me the big money.
CONSULTANT: Now there’s a hint I’ve heard before. I’ll say it again: hash out all the details with the prime minister. Anything else is a waste of time. We’ve each of us got a job to do. Let’s do it. (exits)
Left alone, DIRECTOR dials his cell phone.
DIRECTOR: (into the phone) How’s it going? As you know, the script calls for seventy delegations, so you’ll need seventy wreaths with ribbons, all by the book. Incidentally, have the delegations been paid already? Tell them we’ll pay immediately after the funeral. Also, don’t forget to let that riffraff know to be decently dressed, not in jeans and any old rags. And try to get a thousand balloons. We’ll release them into the air to symbolize the soul ascending to heaven… No, not black ones, white ones. Black’s the color of mourning, but the soul should be packaged in white… We’re in a time crunch. There’s still a night and a half-day ahead of us. We won’t sleep until after that.
WOMAN enters. DIRECTOR hangs up his phone.
WOMAN: I was told I have to go on with the rehearsal.
DIRECTOR: Not a moment too soon. Where’s the other one?
WOMAN: He’s getting his instructions from her. He’ll be here in a minute.
DIRECTOR: Have you learned the words?
WOMAN: Sort of. Want to hear?
DIRECTOR: In a minute. (looks around and lowers his voice) Tell me, this assistant of mine… or whatever she is… What’s her position?
WOMAN: You think she’s your assistant?
DIRECTOR: I don’t know. That’s what she said. At least she knows a bit about the theater.
WOMAN: That’s entirely possible. I’m thinking she’s been cast in supporting roles at one time or another. Here, though, she’s a headliner.
DIRECTOR: How do you explain that astronomical ascent? She probably has something special going for her?
WOMAN: Sure. The something special that men value above all else.
