SCENE: The Royal Bedchamber (Bunny's Quarters)
The Chief Documentarian lies in state - and he is very much making it a STATE. Bunny is propped against an excessive number of pillows, one paw draped dramatically across his forehead, the other clutching a handkerchief he has not actually used but keeps nearby for effect.
The Queen enters, surveys the scene with the practiced eye of someone who has ruled through actual plagues.
THE QUEEN: You're ill.
BUNNY: (weakly, but with perfect diction) Your Majesty. I fear I have been struck down by some terrible—
THE QUEEN: You have a fever.
BUNNY: A significant fever, Majesty. I attempted to rise this morning and found myself quite unable to—
THE QUEEN: (sitting on the edge of the bed, patting his paw once, efficiently) Take the day off.
Bunny freezes. The Queen is touching him. The Queen, who maintains careful distance from everyone, is patting his paw. He would normally deflect this with professional boundaries, but he's too stunned—and too committed to his illness performance—to protest.
BUNNY: (slightly less dramatically) I... yes, Your Majesty.
THE QUEEN: (standing) You'll probably be fine.
She exits.
Bunny stares after her, processing. Then he adjusts his dramatic pose slightly and settles back into his pillows with renewed commitment to being Seriously Ill.
Sir Reginald enters from the corner where he has apparently been pacing this entire time, consumed by his own theatrical crisis.
SIR REGINALD: "To freeze or not to freeze—that IS the burning question! Whether 'tis nobler in the body to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous temperature regulation—"
BUNNY: (without opening his eyes) Reginald.
SIR REGINALD: "—or to take blankets against a sea of chills, and by opposing, end them! To shiver—to burn—"
BUNNY: Reginald, I am dying.
SIR REGINALD: (offended) You are not dying. You have a fever. I, however, am composing the definitive theatrical examination of thermodynamic paradox—
BUNNY: I am significantly feverish and require silence.
SIR REGINALD: The human body reaches one hundred degrees Fahrenheit and you think this is tragedy? I am crafting ACTUAL tragedy! "To freeze—"
The door EXPLODES open. Emma enters at squirrel velocity, a blur of kinetic energy and unfinished thoughts.
EMMA: BUNNY! BUNNY ARE YOU DYING?!
BUNNY: (long-suffering) No.
EMMA: (launching herself onto the bed) Are you SURE? Because you LOOK like you're dying! Well, not DYING dying, but like, dramatically dying! Is that different? Can you die dramatically without actually dying?
SIR REGINALD: THAT IS PRECISELY WHAT I AM EXPLORING IN MY SOLILOQUY—
EMMA: (completely ignoring him) Bunny, WHY do fevers make you cold when you're hot? That doesn't make SENSE! It's like—it's like the universe is BROKEN! Is your hypothalamus broken? Did it BREAK?
BUNNY: (pulling a blanket over his head) Emma. Please. Volume.
EMMA: (not lowering volume even slightly) But this is THERMODYNAMICS! It's SCIENCE! Reginald! REGINALD! You're doing a thing about temperature, right? Do you understand thermodynamics?
SIR REGINALD: I am crafting a MEDITATION on the philosophical implications of—
EMMA: So that's a no. Okay, so BUNNY—
BUNNY: (from under blanket) I am resting.
EMMA: —when you're cold but you're hot, is that because your brain THINKS you're cold so it makes you shiver even though you're actually hot? Like, is your brain LYING to your body? Can brains lie? Is that ALLOWED?
SIR REGINALD: (attempting to reclaim the scene) The body's thermostat has been RESET to a higher temperature, thus the current state feels COLD relative to—
EMMA: EXACTLY! It's like if you moved the thermometer! No wait—it's like if the thermometer moved ITSELF! No wait—
BUNNY: (emerging slightly from blanket) It's the hypothalamus raising the set point. The body generates heat through shivering and vasoconstriction to reach the new temperature. Hence: cold sensation despite elevated actual temperature.
Pause.
EMMA: ...Bunny are you SURE you're sick? You just explained that really clearly.
BUNNY: (retreating back under blanket) I am documenting even in extremis. It is my burden.
EMMA: But if you KNOW what's happening, can you just... tell your hypothalamus to stop? Like "hey, hypothalamus, false alarm, we're actually fine"?
BUNNY: That is not how biology works.
EMMA: But WHY NOT though?!
SIR REGINALD: (seizing the moment) PRECISELY! "What dreams may come when we have shuffled off this mortal temperature regulation—"
EMMA: Reginald, are you doing SHAKESPEARE? Is this HAMLET?
SIR REGINALD: I am doing BETTER than Shakespeare! I am doing thermodynamic tragedy! "To be too hot, or not to be too hot—"
EMMA: That doesn't scan right.
SIR REGINALD: (sputtering) It is a WORK IN PROGRESS—
EMMA: Can I be in it? I'll be Fever! Or Cough! Or—OH! I'll be the Hypothalamus! (strikes a dramatic pose)"ATTENTION BODY: WE ARE NOW VERY HOT. PLEASE SHIVER."
BUNNY: (muffled from under blanket) That is... surprisingly accurate.
EMMA: Right?! So it's like your hypothalamus is just WRONG but also RIGHT? It's raising the temperature on PURPOSE but then you feel cold which means it's WORKING but also you feel TERRIBLE so it's NOT working? (gasping) Bunny. BUNNY. Is this a PARADOX?
BUNNY: (wearily) It's an immune response.
EMMA: A PARADOXICAL immune response!
SIR REGINALD: "The immune response, like conscience, doth make cowards of us all—"
EMMA: That's not even about temperature!
SIR REGINALD: It is about the HUMAN CONDITION—
EMMA: (climbing further onto the bed) Bunny, when you get REALLY hot later—because you're totally going to get really hot, that's how fevers work—will you get EVEN COLDER first? Like, will it get WORSE before it gets better?
BUNNY: (sitting up slightly, unable to resist documentation) Yes. The fever spikes before breaking. The sensation of cold intensifies as the body pursues the elevated set point, then—
EMMA: —then you'll be TOO hot and want all the blankets OFF! (bouncing) It's like a CYCLE! Cold-hot-cold-hot! Like a—like a—
BUNNY & REGINALD: (simultaneously) Pendulum.
They look at each other.
SIR REGINALD: (carefully) A thermal... pendulum.
BUNNY: (equally carefully) Oscillating between perceived and actual states.
EMMA: YES! THAT! (scrambling off the bed) I need to draw this! Reginald, your soliloquy should be about PENDULUMS!
SIR REGINALD: (considering) "To swing... perchance to oscillate..."
BUNNY: (lying back down) Please leave.
EMMA: But we're having a BREAKTHROUGH! We're doing SCIENCE!
BUNNY: You are doing science. I am attempting to be dramatically ill and you are ruining it.
EMMA: (pausing) ...are you being dramatic ON PURPOSE?
BUNNY: (pulling blanket back over head) I am SICK.
EMMA: But like... dramatically sick? Or actually sick?
BUNNY: BOTH.
SIR REGINALD: (nodding approvingly) A performance within a performance. Very post-modern.
EMMA: Wait, so you're ACTING sick while BEING sick? (delighted) Bunny! That's GENIUS! You're like—you're method acting your own fever!
BUNNY: I am trying to REST.
EMMA: But doesn't method acting mean you have to REALLY FEEL IT? So you're not acting, you're just... being sick dramatically?
SIR REGINALD: There is an art to suffering, Miss Emma. One must commit fully to the experience.
EMMA: So Bunny's suffering ARTISTICALLY?
BUNNY: (from under blanket) I am suffering because you are STILL HERE.
EMMA: See, that's good! That's commitment! Very dramatic! Ten out of ten! (noticing something) Hey, Bunny, you're shivering. Are you cold?
BUNNY: (teeth chattering slightly) N-no.
EMMA: You're DEFINITELY cold. Should I get more blankets?
BUNNY: I have SEVEN blankets.
EMMA: So... eight blankets?
BUNNY: (emerging just enough to glare) I am going to document this entire interaction and it will NOT be flattering.
EMMA: (climbing back onto the bed) Ooh, are you documenting RIGHT NOW? While you're sick? That's so BUNNY of you! Wait—can I see your notes? Are you writing about the thermodynamics? Did you mention the pendulum thing?
BUNNY: I am not documenting RIGHT NOW because I cannot hold a pen because I am FREEZING despite being ONE HUNDRED DEGREES—
SIR REGINALD: (struck by inspiration) "ONE HUNDRED DEGREES AND FREEZING STILL!" (to himself) Yes... yes that's the line...
EMMA: Bunny, your actual temperature is only one hundred? That's not even that hot! The REALLY dramatic fevers are like one hundred and four! You should aim higher!
BUNNY: I am not AIMING for anything—
EMMA: Not with THAT attitude! Come on, Bunny, commit to the bit! If you're going to be sick dramatically, you have to go ALL IN!
BUNNY: (sitting bolt upright despite obvious misery) I am the CHIEF DOCUMENTARIAN of the KINGDOM OF VELINWOOD. I do not "commit to bits." I am ACTUALLY ILL and you are ACTUALLY THE WORST—
He is seized by a coughing fit. Emma pats him on the back enthusiastically. Sir Reginald winces in sympathy.
EMMA: (cheerfully) See? THAT'S commitment! That cough sounded REALLY bad! Very convincing!
BUNNY: (hoarsely) It's not a performance, it's RESPIRATORY DISTRESS—
EMMA: Potato, po-tah-to!
SIR REGINALD: Miss Emma, perhaps the Documentarian requires—
EMMA: —MORE BLANKETS! I'll get more blankets! And also maybe some soup? Do we have soup? What KIND of soup? Does the kind matter? Bunny, what's your soup preference—
BUNNY: (collapsing back into pillows) Your Majesty... I wish to formally tender my resignation...
EMMA: You can't resign, you're SICK! That's like... giving up in the middle of a race! You have to see it through! What if the fever has important information? What if your hypothalamus is trying to tell you something?
BUNNY: It is telling me I have an INFECTION—
EMMA: No, like, something DEEPER! Something PHILOSOPHICAL! Sir Reginald, back me up here—
SIR REGINALD: "The fever speaks in riddles we must solve..." (pause) No, that's terrible. Discard that.
EMMA: (undeterred) What if being sick is just like... your body doing a SOFTWARE UPDATE? And the fever is the progress bar? And you feel terrible because—because—
BUNNY: Because my immune system is fighting a pathogen like a NORMAL BIOLOGICAL PROCESS—
EMMA: —because you're INSTALLING NEW WISDOM! Yeah! When you get better, you'll be UPGRADED! Bunny 2.0! With even BETTER documentation skills!
BUNNY: (staring at the ceiling) I do not require an upgrade. I require SILENCE.
EMMA: But how will you know you're upgraded if you don't TEST it? We should give you something to document! Something CHALLENGING! Sir Reginald, do your soliloquy!
SIR REGINALD: (eagerly) "To freeze or not to freeze—"
BUNNY: NO.
EMMA: Come on, Bunny, this is PERFECT! You can document Sir Reginald being dramatic while YOU'RE dramatic! It's like dramatic HARMONY!
BUNNY: It is CACOPHONY—
SIR REGINALD: "—that IS the burning question! Whether 'tis nobler in the body to suffer—"
EMMA: (joining in) "—the slings and arrows of outrageous FEVERS—"
SIR REGINALD: That is not the line—
EMMA: It's better than your line! "Outrageous temperature regulation" is too many syllables! You need PUNCH! DRAMA!
BUNNY: (pulling ALL the blankets over his head) I am no longer participating in this Kingdom. I have seceded. This is now the Independent Nation of Under-Blankets and you are both banned.
EMMA: (muffled, from somewhere near his feet) Can't ban me, I'm already here! I'm a STOWAWAY in your blanket nation!
BUNNY: (muffled shriek of frustration)
SIR REGINALD: (to himself, still composing) "And in that sleep of fever, what dreams may come..." (pause) Actually that one's rather good.
The Queen's voice drifts in from the hallway, distant and unbothered:
THE QUEEN: Everyone out. The Documentarian is resting.
EMMA: (emerging from blankets) But we're having a CREATIVE BREAKTHROUGH—
THE QUEEN: Out.
Emma scrambles off the bed. Sir Reginald straightens his armor and exits with dignity. Bunny remains buried under his fortress of blankets.
Long pause.
BUNNY: (very quietly, to himself) ...thermal pendulum is actually a decent metaphor...
He reaches for his documentation journal, manages one shivering line, then gives up and burrows deeper into blankets.
Curtain.
END