The Sartre Express

The Sartre Express

A train car in Second Empire style. A snack cart with various foods and drinks stands at the end of the room. O’CONNOR, LEWIS, NIETZSCHE, and DOSTOEVSKY are all seated in lavish chairs side-by-side and across from one another, each absorbed in their own activities. Over the speaker system, a crackling voice can be heard.

***

CONDUCTOR [over comm]: Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen, and thank you for choosing to travel on the Sartre Express. Please keep in mind that passengers are not allowed to transfer cars once the trip begins due to the severe safety hazard it poses. Feel free to press the button by the door should you require any assistance from our porter. Thank you, and safe travels.

[The hiss of a steam engine breaks the silence of the car, and the train begins to move forward. O’CONNOR pulls out a copy of Summa of the Summa by Thomas Aquinas and begins to read, unaware that NIETZSCHE has noticed the book.]

NIETZSCHE: I see you’re reading Aquinas. [Giving O’CONNOR a shrewd look] An interesting choice.

O’CONNOR: I am indeed. Why do you ask? [Thumbing the well-worn pages of the book fondly] I’ve always found him fascinating, particularly in his style of argumentation.

NIETZSCHE [scoffing]: I find him fascinating in the same way a child would find a zoo animal fascinating. The kind of fascination a scientist has with a deranged lab rat. The kind of fascination that a “Hyperborean” would have with a lowly human (Nietzsche 127).

[A beat of shocked silence follows.]

O’CONNOR [looking nonplussed]: Oh. You fancy yourself a ‘Hyperborean,’ then?

NIETZSCHE: Of course. Men such as myself have transcended past the pathetic arguments of both the modern man and the Christian alike and found the unquestionable route to happiness.

[At this bold proclamation, the remaining passengers look up in interest.]

LEWIS [calling out to NIETZSCHE]: And what might that be, my good man?

NIETZSCHE: Why, power and control, obviously. Morality is a flimsy construct designed by Christians to guilt the ambitious man into starving his natural desire for strength and glory. ‘Evil’ is no devilish demon, it’s simply “all that proceeds from weakness” (Nietzsche 127). Of course, I wouldn’t expect you to understand. My mind is a complex enigma rivaled by very few.

DOSTOEVSKY [stifling a laugh]: I see. Now, you mentioned control, Mr—?

NIETZSCHE [curtly]: Friedrich Nietzsche.

[DOSTOEVSKY and NIETZSCHE shake hands, though DOSTOEVSKY visibly grimaces at NIETZSCHE’s deathly-tight grip.]

DOSTOEVSKY: Fyodor Dostoevsky at your service. Anyway, as I was saying, I find it peculiar that you describe power and control as the formula for happiness. In my novel, Notes from Underground, the main character becomes obsessed with gaining control over his life to the point of insanity. He only wishes to interact with the world if it aligns with his own daydreams, and is “so used to thinking and imagining everything from books, and to picturing everything in the world to [him]self as [he] had devised it beforehand in [his] dreams” (Dostoevsky 123) that he cannot discern reality from imagination. He rejects Liza, the gentle woman who offers him a chance at a real relationship, because he does not feel that he can fully control her or even himself. The pursuit ultimately leads him nowhere because complete control is impossible to fully achieve. I would hardly call that a happy life—would you?

NIETZSCHE [rolling his eyes, unimpressed]: Well, I would hardly consider your pursuit of perfect morality to be any more tangible than my pursuit of control. Your character was simply too weak to take actual hold of the world around him. He retreated instead of advancing. It’s not his fault, of course. Some people just don’t possess the capacity for greatness. Others possess the capacity, yet limit themselves with their vapid religious pursuits. I find their lack of ambition disturbing. If you ask me, we ought to breed those idiots out of existence. Only the most valuable—the most worthy of life—should be allowed to propagate (Nietzsche 128). Power makes one superior, and that is the goal of life, is it not?

LEWIS [chuckling wryly]: My, Mr. Nietzsche. You’ve left us with a lot to unpack. Let’s see… [he laces his fingers together, leaning back thoughtfully.] I suppose I should begin by addressing your approach to life in general. You treat it as a race to be won, or a foe to be conquered. Happiness is just one consequence of overcoming limitations and growing superior to others, correct?

[NIETZSCHE nods in agreement, clearly satisfied by the apparent validation.]

LEWIS: Hm… A character of mine—Weston in Out of the Silent Planet—holds that same sort of perspective, though I can’t say I agree with it. Weston is an aggressive sort of man, the kind that—in your own terms—advances, rather than retreats. He, too, fancies himself to be superior to most of the human population. In fact, he even goes so far as to describe a mentally disabled boy as “the sort of boy who, in a civilized community, would be automatically handed over to a state laboratory for experimental purposes” (Lewis 21). Again, in your own language, the boy is nothing more than a lab rat in comparison to Weston’s great scientific prowess. [Chuckling] To Weston, most people are. He claims to want to save the human race, and yet he hates the human race. Do you see his dilemma? His pride separates him from the rest of humanity, and as a result, he is made miserable by his self-inflicted burden of superiority. He should be happy, according to you, but he is the most troubled of all the characters in the book.

NIETZSCHE [sneering, more sour than ever]: It is clear to me that your Weston simply hasn’t met a fellow Hyperborean worth investing in.

O’CONNOR [shrugging]: Even if he found one, it wouldn’t make him any happier. 

NIETZSCHE: I beg your pardon?

O’CONNOR: Well, Mr. Nietzsche, I’m an author as well, and I’ve written quite a few characters who might identify themselves as Hyperboreans. One of them is a man named Sheppard, from my short story “The Lame Shall Enter First.” Sheppard is someone who takes pride in his intellect and looks down upon religious folk because “heaven and hell [are] for the mediocre” (O’Connor 463). [Smiling knowingly] Sound familiar?

NIETZSCHE [huffing]: Perhaps.

O’CONNOR: He comes across Rufus Johnson, a boy who he considers to be “a vision of himself” (O’Connor 481) in stark contrast to his “average or below” (O’Connor 449) son, Norton. Even though he pours all his gifts and time into Rufus, Rufus rejects him because he can see that the attention is nothing more than a result of Sheppard’s god-complex. Rufus even remarks to Norton that his father “thinks he’s Jesus Christ” (O’Connor 459), and isn’t doing anything out of the goodness of his heart. [Leaning forward onto her elbows] Sheppard is ultimately disappointed and frustrated by Rufus because even a fellow Hyperborean cannot give him what he needs the most: genuine love. He’s ultimately left with a broken heart and a neglected, suicidal son.

NIETZSCHE [visibly frustrated]: Again, I’m struggling to understand how either of these characters are even bordering on antagonistic. Your Weston is simply exerting his will and superiority over others—a respectable instinct—and your Sheppard is prioritizing the child who shows more promise. It’s only natural for them to do so.

O’CONNOR: Ah, but you see, Sheppard wasn’t prioritizing Rufus for Rufus’ benefit. Rather, it was to benefit himself. See, Sheppard recognizes at the end of the story that he had “ignored his own child to feed his own vision of himself” (O’Connor 481), not so that he could extend a hand to someone who needed it. Sheppard neglects his very duty as a loving father in order to pursue the kind of Hyperborean lifestyle that you recommend, but by the time he realizes the error of his ways, it’s already too late for him to rectify the situation. His prioritization of Johnson over Norton wasn’t out of love, it was out of selfishness, and it cost him greatly.

DOSTOEVSKY [smiling in realization]: That’s what it all comes back to, isn’t it? Love. The Underground Man cannot live a happy life because it is one that rejects love from Liza, Sheppard cannot be a father-figure to Rufus because he doesn’t actually love him, and Weston cannot be a beacon for humanity because he has no love for it. When your only goal in life is to become bigger and better than everyone around you, you become isolated and miserable. Why, you’re further from happy than you were when you started!

LEWIS: That’s quite a point you’ve made there, Fyodor, and I do think it’s what makes Christianity so powerful. It’s a religion that reaches all, touches all, and loves all. It is a religion that is selfless where the rest of the world is selfish. It is a religion that relies upon grace and love, not power or control. True happiness can only be found in the virtuous pursuit of Christ and his message, for when you depend on God—who is relentlessly graceful and steadfast—rather than on people—who are fickle and disappointing—you can take solace in the fulfillment that He has to offer.

NIETZSCHE [jumping out of his seat in a bout of rage, eyes darting towards the door]: I don’t know why I even bothered trying to communicate these ideas to all of you. You don’t deserve it anyway! You’re all blinded by that pathetic religion of yours, tying your own shoelaces together and trying to run the race of life at a severe disadvantage! You say I classify the mentally disabled as sub-human, but I’d just as soon throw you lot in there as well. You’re depraved, fighting against those natural instincts of yours. You “prefe[r] what is harmful to [you], and you’ve “taken the side of everything weak…” (Nietzsche 129). You’ve made an ideal out of the very “opposition to the preservative instincts of strong life” (Nietzsche 129)! 

O’CONNOR [interrupting NIETZSCHE quickly]: Now, let’s not get too riled up— 

NIETZSCHE: —you relish in a lack of control, you advocate for being powerless, and you lie about being happy! How could you be, with a life like that? You call it love and Christianity… well, I call it foolishness! [Heavily breathing] God, it’s hot in here!

[NIETZSCHE runs to the door and slams his palm against the bell, but no response comes. He tries the door handle furiously, and the overhead comm crackles.]

CONDUCTOR [over comm, in a monotone voice]: I’m sorry, but passengers are not allowed to leave the train while in motion. Please return to your seat and remain there for the remainder of the journey.

LEWIS [good naturedly]: Come now, Friedrich, let’s not dissolve into hysterics. You clearly possess a great mind—[to himself] albeit a misguided one—[to NIETZSCHE] but I’m sure we could come to some sort of agreement in due time. Sit down, have a cup of tea… [Glancing between DOSTOEVSKY and O’CONNOR] or perhaps some of this chocolate cake? 

O’CONNOR [smiling warmly]: As long as there’s no ketchup and peanut butter involved, I’ve no qualms about it. [Gesturing to the empty seat for NIETZSCHE] Please, sit, we must insist.

DOSTOEVSKY [to NIETZSCHE]: Well, man? What can we get you? Water? Coffee?

NIETZSCHE [under his breath as he approaches]: At this rate, I think I’ll be needing something a bit stronger than that.

DOSTOEVSKY [chuckling]: Finally—an idea of yours that I can get behind!

FIN.