An empty stage.  small.  2 people walk onto the stage.
1: We’re going to see a play.
2: Is it good?
1: Don’t know…  No way to know.
2: You haven’t checked the reviews?
1: You know I don’t check reviews…
2: Come on, you’re not one of those fools who don’t trust critics…
1: Certainly not.
2: You don’t put faith in “buzz” alone.
1: Again, of course not.
2: And yet you think no critique is better than any critique?
1: No, I just don’t want any expectations…
2: Ah, you don’t want them to give anything away.
1: In a way, yes.
2: But still, you don’t know even a rough qualitive estimate?  I mean, this play has been reviewed…
1: I assume, but I have made a point not to inquire.
2: Not even a second-hand, censured opinion?  I mean, from sources you trust that is.  Not like KXWP Anchorage radio, or Peter Travis of the Rolling Stone, reputable disinterested critics.  Surely you’ve at least heard something, overheard whispers from people if nothing else.
1: Nope, I’ve no idea about the play.  I’ve no idea the name, the author, even where it is being shown, cause even that would give things away.
2: How so?
1: Well, if I knew it were playing at the Traubausen, then I’d know it was probably some post-modern fare.  In which case, I wouldn’t know if it had a happy ending—which is knowing that it is not obvious as to if it has a happy ending.  Which is in itself more than I’d like to know.  Further, if someone else had seen it, and I went by their recommendation—solely on whether or not to see it—I’d merely need account what I know about them, and come to all kinds of conclusions.  And even if I had no conclusions, I would no there were no conclusions.  And even if I didn’t feel conclusive, I’d still have inklings, and suspicions, and those are even worse—as they will just run about in my head.
2: So you’ve no idea, this could be Disney on Ice or some bondage exhibition—but not one to your liking.  You’re willing to sit through that?  No I suppose you’d leave before it was over…
1: Certainly not, it could be a trick, it could start out Disney on Ice and end with a bondage exhibition, and that would be worth sticking around.
2: So you’re giving yourself entirely to fate.  Alright, now, how did you even come to know of this play…  And if you don’t know where it is, is someone going to lead us?  Wouldn’t the person leading us tell you something?
1: No one’s leading us, I found this play by chance, all I know, is that it is a play, or at least called such.
2: Oh, well, then, there’s absolutely no rules to it then.  It could go on for eternity and you could stuck there, refusing to leave, waiting for something to happen.  Why it could be a rock on a stage, and you’d be waiting till the cows come for it to crack open and have a baby rock come out.  Or for cows themselves.
1: It’s a risk, I’ll admit.
2: Alright, now, you found this play, how?
1: Do you really want to know?  (quickly)  Ah, think of how much that would give away before you answer.  Think how much you can gain by taking a risk on a blind proposition.
2: Hmmm, well, you’d be leading me to this play, yes?
1: I suppose its safe to assume that.
2: Then isn’t that already telling me something?  I take what I know of you…  And I think I know enough of you that this isn’t really some elaborate trap, that I’ll turn a corner and get a burlap sack thrown over me, and shipped to shanghi…  But then again, I know that by being with you that could easily happen, because of the life you lead, the choices—or lack there of—you make—or don’t make—or make as to letting others make them.  But you trust me…  thus, perhaps I should trust you.  Since if you trust me, then you have good judgement at least in that, and again, you’re not dead yet, so…
1: You’ll come?
2: Yes, I’ll come to the play.
1: Will you stay to the end?  Even if it seems there is none, or it had already happened?
2: How will we know it has ended then?
1: Again, won’t surmise.
2: You’d be willing to sit in a theatre after the lights had gone down and the actors had all left.  Even if it was Hamlet, and they did all 5 hours of it, you could sit around for ever, assuming it was a play, within a play, WITHIN a play, etc. etc.  Why, where would the play end?  No end of reach, no end of time?
1: A risk, again.  The world could be the stage.
2: Oh, well, this is getting quite involved.  Would I have to make some kind of commitment then?
1: No…
2: I could leave when I want to…
1: Perhaps…
2: Hmm…  Assuming there’s no burlap sacks involved, then I could leave, say, when I’d lost interest in it?
1: If you’re willing to risk it…
2: Ah, so, risk to push me forward, risk to keep me back?  Can’t work like that.  Where to draw the line?
1: It’s a play, the line will be drawn for you.
2: If I follow it.
1: Exactly.
2: And if I don’t?
1: We’ll see.
2: Well...  Maybe not following the line will be even more interesting than following it?  After all, we know nothing of the play.
1: Take the risk then.
2: Alright!  I will.  SCREW YOUR PLAY (runs off stage.)
1: Fine.  (goes and sits in the audience.)  Oh damn, what if it’s already begun?  I don’t leave in the middle, nor enter.  I can’t see it in progress, what if I missed something important?  Oh fuck it, maybe the play is over there...  (runs off stage.)