The Cult of Azzhreth by The Runaways Lab

Originally posted on October 27, 2017

by Dan Mozurkewich

To prepare for the upcoming Doing Drugs and Dying In Space Ritual II, The Runaways Lab Theater has commissioned a historical account of the true Space Cult which inspired the ritual. Thanks to company member Daniel Mozurkewich for the research and w…

To prepare for the upcoming Doing Drugs and Dying In Space Ritual II, The Runaways Lab Theater has commissioned a historical account of the true Space Cult which inspired the ritual. Thanks to company member Daniel Mozurkewich for the research and writing.

What you might not know is that most of human history has been lost. The Human genome has remained the same for 200,000 years. Early civilizations were founded along rivers and coasts 10,000 years ago, as the official record would tell you. But that leaves tens of thousands of years that we have no record of. As our planet warms and cools, as glaciers form and crumble, the sea level has risen and fallen dramatically. Perhaps records of early human life lie beneath the ocean, washed away by centuries of erosion. It is a theory so simple that anyone could be capable of producing it, yet the scientific establishment insists on placing the advent of civilization at 10,000 years in the past, and not more.

Dr. Arthur T. Waller was a man who disputed this paradigm. Professor of Archeology at the University of Maryland, Dr. Waller was one of the sole voices in his field advocating further investigation into potential prehistoric human civilizations. Leading an intrepid crew of 6 similarly convicted scientists, including an archeologist, a geneticist, a retired navy officer, and a psychiatrist who had been barred from practice due to his controversial studies on ESP, he began exploring underwater caverns off the coast of Mexico in the year 1974, with the goal of uncovering evidence of prehistoric remains or dwellings. Funding this expedition was Australian Billionaire Geoff Warrington, who inherited his father’s mining empire when he unexpectedly died in a helicopter crash in the outback in 1968.

A series of dives turned up nothing, but still Dr. Waller was convinced that the answer to his questions lay in the Gulf of Mexico. Three expeditions were eventually made from 1974-1976, with Dr. Waller’s relationship with Warrington grew more and more strained, as Warrington grew more and more dissatisfied with the lack of concrete discovery. However, in 1976 the Pre-Indus Exploration Association happened upon a singularly unique discovery. In an underwater cavern off the Yucatan peninsula, Dr. Waller’s team removed 7 artifacts, completely plain-faced 5 foot long cylinders, composed of an unknown material, deeply black and metallic but spongy to the touch.

Returning to the University of Maryland, Dr. Waller began his efforts to have the artifacts examined and carbon dated. Despite there being no markings or indications of any kind, he was convinced that the artifacts were of human make, possibly dating before the advent of civilization. Premature testing, however, indicated a carbon age of over 7 billion years—predating the formation of the planet earth. The material was unidentifiable, appearing to be a complex metal alloy only deemed possible under vacuum conditions. However, before further testing could be completed, the FBI shut down the University of Maryland Carbon Dating Laboratory, seizing the 4 artifacts Dr. Waller provided for research (1 was in the possession of Geoff Warrington, who had been eager to take possession of any product of his contributions, while the other 2 were in the possession of ESP specialist and ex-psychiatrist Dr. Earl Kotsiopoulos. The results of the expedition and the carbon dating were branded as an elaborate hoax and scientific fraud, and were quickly forgotten. Dr. Waller himself was indicted on several counts of possession of child pornography that had been seized from his home, and he died in prison the following year as the result of fast-acting Leukemia.

Dr. Kostopulos found himself under federal scrutiny many times during the following years, including several search and seizures of his home and offices, but the artifacts were never found, and for the time being no charges were ever brought against him. His professional research, debunked and disregarded by the scientific community at large, continued under the patronage of Mr. Geoff Wellington, and branched into the administration of synthetic hallucinogenic drugs in an attempt to unlock latent psychic powers. In 1979, 1 week before the FBI raided his research compound in Nevada for the 3rd and final time, Dr. Kostopoulos fled the country and assumed a false identity, continuing his research in secret in Australia.

Kostopulos, now going by the name Rick Bishop, had a breakthrough studying the artifacts. He found that, with the correct cocktail of psychoactive hallucinogens, humans became capable of “reading” the artifacts. When present at the time of ingestion, these incredibly powerful substances would produce visions and the subjects would begin to speak in gibberish, with the common recurrence of certain words, such as “Azzhreth” and “Egg”. However, the only substances powerful enough to produce replicable results were permanently debilitating to the point of death. Warrington and Bishop began abducting the homeless, runaways, and addicts from the streets of Australia, and experimenting on them in a secret underground facility. With the help of early computers, algorithms were created to try and decode the ramblings of the victims.

Bishop and Wellington came to believe that the artifacts actually contained instructions—instructions left by a cosmic being named Azzhreth, who had visited this dimension some 7 billion years ago and left an “egg” in orbit around the infant planet, an egg which was feeding upon the psychic energy of conscious population- that had perhaps guided evolution to produce organisms capable of radiating psychic energy, much as how humans breed cows and pigs to be fat and produce succulent meat. The “Egg” was the size of a small moon, it orbited earth according to a physical laws that were undefinable under any current notion of physics- it did not exist in this dimension, but rather one adjacent to our own, and a different kind of gravity holds it in place, and as the moon exerts influence upon the tides of water, so too this egg exerts its influence upon the tides of thought.

Rick Bishop knew that current technology would not be enough to locate the portal to this dimension and to enter it, for that he would need cognitive imagine software powerful enough to create replicable images of the visions of his victims, driven mad by the intense synthetic substances he was feeding with them with. But there was another directive unscrambled from their frenzied chants—that the egg would birth the child of Azzhreth—that Azzhreth’s child would possess a power befitting a deity, that his birth would signal the transformation of reality and the irreversible distortion of this dimension. That the artifacts were amplifiers, transmitters relaying the signals through space towards Azzhreth’s spawn, and that the mortal who could use these amplifiers to bring about the hatching of the egg would be greatly rewarded—rewarded beyond his wildest dreams.

But Rick Bishop would need to bide his time, proselytize others to his cause, infiltrate youth culture and distribute drugs that would prime the priests and priestesses of his church, perhaps one day, a child would be born that could communicate with the other dimension without being driven to madness, perhaps enough humans could come together in festival, and feed the spawn of Azzhreth with a nutritious mix of psychic energy- nutritious enough to perhaps trigger the awakening.


Mary Shelley Dramaturgy III: Percy Shelley Chases His Wife Through Time? by The Runaways Lab

Originally posted on November 3, 2016

by Malvika Jolly

For the upcoming weeks, Mary Shelley dramaturge Malvika Jolly will be guest posting here with all manner of dramaturgical research and documentation that goes into bringing our play to life! Here you will find short essays, photos & video from the rehearsal process, and other tasty tidbits to help us flesh out the social, political, and performative landscapes of “Mary Shelley Sees the Future”. This is part three in the series.  

(This isn’t paid advertisement. It’s surveillance art.)

(This isn’t paid advertisement. It’s surveillance art.)

Midway through Mary Shelley Sees the Future, there is a scene in which Mary Shelley, for a few brief moments, encounters her husband Percy Shelley (or the specter of Percy Shelley) in Gaslight Coffee Roasters (You know the one— the one that juts out like a peninsula on the corner of Milwaukee and Fullerton). It is a packed Friday afternoon 200 years after their era, Percy Shelley is dead via shipwreck, and he also has no place to sit.

So they share a table.

This scene is one of the moments of the play that transcend the “realism” of the play (as much realism as can exist in a play that hinges on a time warp, that is). It is unclear whether this man is what he at first appears to be— simply a disgruntled hipster with an antiquated name (“Percival”)— or if he is who he, moments later, metamorphoses into: Percy, the poet. And also Percy, the soft-voiced husband who asks her, tenderly, How does she like it here? Has she had time to at least take in the view? And, is she here to stay?

At the emotional sweet-spot of this scene, he responds to each of Mary’s questions with a chorus of “My dear, it is your choice”. At this moment it feels crystal clear that he is what he appears to be. But let’s unfold the implications of this: is Percy Shelley on his own journey, playing hooky from death and traveling through time to track Mary Shelley down? Or is he a kind of spectral spirit possession, occupying the body of some unsuspecting 21st century kid for a few moments in order to commune with his wife, across time and across the grave? Or is he— as he himself suggests— all a figment of Mary Shelley’s vast imagination? A hallucination that we, the audience, are privy to as well?

MARY: How did you get here?

PERCY: The same way you did or I might not be here at all I might be in your head

MARY: (whispers) You are dead

PERCY: I am poetry You, of all people, should know That is how I wanted to live on

It is the kind of magical-realism that causes you to hold your breath.

This scene, this whispered conversation, hovers gently a few feet above reality. When watching it in Sunday night’s show, I noticed the audience growing still, especially silent as they watched Dan Mozurkewich transform before their eyes. This rupture-in-realism infused the minutiae of every gesture, every syllable, every breath, every tick: each one signifying worlds more than it might’ve a moment before. It is as if the moment onstage existed in a bubble or void: caught at a point of precipice, the intimacy of the meeting is wholly puncture-able… and should not exist.

~

In the early weeks of rehearsal while discussing the eeriness / dissonance of this scene, someone brought up an interesting theory: We know that Mya dabbles in a variety of experimental drugs… So wouldn’t it be plausible that the psychological and chemical traces of those hallucinogens might still be swimming around in her synapses, even when Mary Shelley is occupying her body? It’s not uncommon for hallucinogens to cause flashbacks, after all. Wouldn’t it make sense if Mary, experiencing the world through the perception and the brain of a drug addict, might experience the world with a sometimes-tenuous hold on reality?

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I won’t try and tell you that this is unquestionably true, or unquestionably false. After all, a strange kind of cognitive dissonance is the very lifeblood of the whole enchilada! (And by enchilada, I mean play). However, I do think this theory bursts open a whole bunch of incredibly fascinating and amusing pathways of speculation!

Right off the bat, it provides a “scientific”, “realistic”, or “secular” explanation and arguable premise to what is definitely the most “unrealistic” ingredient of the play: time-travel. (Or time-travel paired with a body-swap).

Doc Brown comes firmly entrenched in the Authority of Science. He’s a crazy, crazy dude in a lab coat.)

Doc Brown comes firmly entrenched in the Authority of Science. He’s a crazy, crazy dude in a lab coat.)

~

But why wouldn’t we want a play (and especially a play as fun and saucy as this one) to be a tad unrealistic, unscientific? Improbability is the key world here. And improbability tells us much more about a work of literature or art these days than simply whether or not it is realistic.

As the novelist Amitav Ghosh explains in his book The Great Derangement: Climate Change and the Unthinkable:

“Probability and the modern novel are in fact twins, born at about the same time, among the same people, under a shared star that destined them to work as vessels for the containment of the same kind of experience.”

One of the greatest transformations of modernist literature came with the decision that literature should be plausible. Whereas before, the question of whether or not a work of art was “believable” was simply not a question that popped up in one’s mind— works of literature and drama could be absurd! Fantastical! In fact the entire point was, in some ways, the telling of tall tales— in the late 19th — early 20th century, suddenly, whether the work we are experiencing is “believable” becomes very urgent. Plausibility conveys authenticity.

Consider, also, that we are re-hashing the age-old debate between The Romantics (Percy Shelley, Lord Byron, Trelawney, and the gang) and the rationalists of The Enlightenment (of whom Mary’s father William Godwin was a part).

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What this time-travel-hallucinogenic-theory accomplishes is to push what was previously un-explained— the time-warp is explained only in passing as Mary Shelley’s “wish on a star” moment, and as a decision the 21st century Mya probably had time to prepare for, but no more is said— firmly in the direction of believability. The time-warp may not be “realistic”, per say, but it is certainly closer to center in the gradient in a continuum of probability.

It also allows us to hold onto the wonder and… preciousness… of the transformation, and not compromise that moment.

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Freaky Friday also uses a device to explain & instigate a body-swap. It arrives innocuously as an un-tasty fortune cookie… What I think is really novel about Olivia’s play is that she presents us with no easy explanation, instigator, or device, and so we are left to hypothesize about experimental drugs, stars-wished-upon, etc. Furthermore, from this discussion about time travel and its causes, we can unpack more questions: about Probability, Realism, and Magic, how time works in this world.

And— what exactly are the     rules   of engagement     in this world Olivia Lilley has created?

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As food for thought, I’ll leave you with Amitav Ghosh’s meditation on the consequences of improbable events and “strange happenings” in prose, and the cursed genres within serious literature:

To introduce such happenings into a novel is in fact to court eviction from the mansion in which serious fiction has long been in residence; it is to risk banishment to the humbler dwellings that surround the manor house— those generic outhouses that were once known by names such as “the Gothic”, “the romance”, or “the melodrama”, and have now come to be called “fantasy”, “horror”— and “science fiction”.

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Malvika Jolly loves all things gender-bending, time-warped, & body-swapped. She tweets @dinnertheatrics