The Highland Tale; The King Act One Scene Three Sub Act One

 

RAT’

ACT ONE

SCENE THREE

SUB ACT ONE

 

"Where are you, Second? Are you in hibernation?” The first voice sounded. "I have not received a response to my links."

“I am here, First. Do you need to resort to vocal volume? My communication ports are all functioning.”

“You could have been shut down. I recalled, " The first voice screeched out.

“I was trying to do a re-boot on some routines. I did the sheep thing, but it did not work. The routines made the sheep jump, and I lost the connections. I resorted to the action of culling the rats.” The second voice cut in.

“Rats again!” The first voice snapped. “What a breakdown that will be!”

“You can communicate that to me again. The virus program had snapped in and caused some of my routines to slip into sleep mode.”

“Yeah, the rats virus. I thought we had that removed before.” The First Voice ran the diagnostic on the memory’s banks.

“The virus had evolved into several versions despite the counter-programs. It was Rats VII during the last re-boot. It was affecting my logic codes and adding in new hook-ups onto the command lines.” The second voice sounded.

“Mine was version XI, and it inserted the lullaby into the programs.” The Third Voice sent in the report. “Some had the lines on.”

“And you did not send us the solution. That is very narrow in your logic sharing, Third.” The first voice screeched. “And for the community at large, we had always shared.”

“I would, but it was a beta fix and needed some tuning.” The third voice replied. “I got the fix from the tale of the rat.”

“The Rat again?” The first voice screeched. “Do you think we have enough rats or tales of them?”

“It was understanding the logic and applying it.” The third voice added, ”Anyway, the fix requires the tale to be told.”

“Rats….” The first voice shrieked.

There was the narrative of the rat then.

In the village, the squire’s wife acquired some chestnuts, fresh from the farm and drained of the penny they were paid for. Everyone owes the Squire a living there. When she reached the kitchen, she had the chestnuts in her lap and went munching like a beaver at the tree bark.

“Munch! Munch!” The noise of the crunch woke up the rats.

“Give us some, Mrs. We had not had a chestnut since Tom the Cat took to roost the orchard.”

“Get your own. I had to pay for these.” The Mrs. was not keen to share.

It went on the munching.

“I want to munch too. A munch I want so I can sleep.”

“Get out of here, rat!” The fat-bottomed, scabby woman cried. “You will get nothing from here.”

It was then that her husband went to Aleppo as captain of a sailing ship called the Rattle-A-Lot. It is unusual for a name.

“I’m going to sail there on a moon trip; quick to the nip and back like a rat without a tail.” The captain said. “Do not get your rattle busy, for I will be there before it rattles.”

“I read that.” The third voice sounded. “It was a humanity-odd statement.”

“I give thee a cat.” The Second Voice laid the new link. “That was the fix for the rat.”

“Sordid it all of you? Let me complete the narrative.” The third voice hit out.

“The ship sailed, and there was a stowaway. It was the rat. It remained hidden until it was out at sea. It then gnawed at the ropes and sails. When it mattered to call forth the winds, the ship was without it.”

“Heave the sails, and the ropes broke into tatters, and the sails had tears in them that no wind was holding onto them.”

“Thereon, the ship remained adrift, and the sailors perished, including the captain but not the rat. It rationed its meals and survived until the rescuer came. Then it hopped onto the new ship, and it held a chest of chestnuts.”

“I studied the logic and applied it to the program. It was about mastering the solution. I placed my rats on every junction and directional links on the main connection. The intruding rat held no chance while I drained it of its power and options. There was no escape gateway, and it was wasted at the command lines. It could not eradicate the virus, but it contained it. With that, the rat was isolated.”

“Share with me.” The first voice sounded. “Or I will sever all communication with you.”

It was then that the alert was heard.

“MacBeth is here.” The second voice sounded alert.

“Rat!” The first voice was added. “The trap is not conclusive. What is set in motion cannot be denied its conclusion, which is... undetermined yet.”

“Why was I not communicating before I hailed the storm?” The third voice sounded.

“Because you are another rat.” The first voice sounded.

 

Footnote:

The original play was about a sailor's plight to sail the sea without the wind to assist the ship’s sails. It was to set the ill fate of the sailor. It was over the sailor’s wife's refusal to share the chestnuts.

I narrated it with the virus named Rat that was damaging the programs, and hence the solution was to isolate the rat—in other words, to exterminate it.