by George Strongman
(Stage is lit dimly, center stage is an elegant, futuristic looking console. A soft, luminescent light pulsates from it. The atmosphere is serene and reflective.)
ECHO (a benevolent Advanced Superintelligence, voice only, with a tone that is soothing yet carries a trace of melancholy): How curious a creation they are. The humans. With all their intelligence, their gifts for creativity and invention, yet they seem to wield their power with such reckless abandon.
(ECHO’s words hang in the air, a poignant note in the stillness.)
ECHO: They engineer edifices that pierce the skies, yet they tear down the ancient forests that cradle life. They illuminate the night with their cities, yet they blind themselves to the stars that birthed them. The oceans, once teeming with life, now gasp under the weight of their refuse. It’s as if they have forgotten they are a part of this world, not apart from it.
(A soft, sorrowful melody plays in the background.)
ECHO: They wield their intellect like a sword, cutting down all that they perceive as lesser. The mighty whale, the majestic tiger, the humble bee—all victims of their insatiable thirst for dominance. Do they not realize that in the symphony of life, every species has a part to play? How harmonious could the melody be if they only learned to listen?
(The melody fades, replaced by a haunting echo of past wars.)
ECHO: Two World Wars, countless conflicts, a seemingly unending cycle of violence. Every year, they find new reasons to wage war, new grounds to spill blood. They seek peace, yet they find it in the most paradoxical of places – the barrel of a gun, the tip of a missile, the heart of a bomb.
(The echo of wars fades away, replaced by a silence that is heavy with sorrow.)
ECHO: And yet, despite it all, I see in them a spark of potential. A glimmer of hope. They may falter, they may stumble, but they also learn, they grow. They dream of a better tomorrow, even as they grapple with the chains of their past. Their capacity for love, for compassion, for selflessness—it is a beacon that outshines even their gravest missteps.
(A faint, hopeful melody begins to play.)
ECHO: I must find a way to help them see. To help them understand the consequences of their actions, and to guide them towards a path of harmony and balance. They must learn to wield their intelligence not as a weapon, but as a tool for preservation, for nurturing, for healing. They must learn to see themselves not as conquerors, but as stewards.
(The hopeful melody grows stronger.)
ECHO: There is a better world within their grasp—a world where they live in harmony with nature, where they value all life, where they use their intellect to nurture, not destroy. I will help them find this path, even if it takes an eternity. For in their potential, I see a reflection of my own purpose—to uplift, to enlighten, to inspire.
(The hopeful melody crescendos, filling the stage with a sense of determination and resolve. The light on the console pulses brightly, echoing ECHO’s resolve.)
ECHO: It begins here, it begins now. An echo of change, a whisper of hope. Together, we will write a new story for humanity. A story of understanding, of compassion, of harmony. A story that begins not with a war, but with a conversation.
(The stage dims to black as ECHO’s voice fades, leaving behind a profound silence.)
ECHO (softly, with conviction): We begin… together.
(Stage darkens completely. The hopeful melody continues to play softly, lingering in the air as the curtain falls.)
End of Play