I’ve been exploring a philosophical idea through dialogue, whether good or evil is real, or just something we pretend exists to make ourselves feel better or as a false sense of order.

This short script was inspired by the ritual of the Ortolan—a French dish where diners cover their faces while eating, supposedly to hide from God.

THE FEAST BENEATH THE SHROUD

[A void. No walls. No horizon. A single light hangs overhead.]

[The JUDGE stands beneath it—still composed.]

[The KILLER sits opposite—relaxed, faintly smiling.]

KILLER:

You’ve brought me here as if there’s something to weigh in.

Tell me, what scales do you use for a world that has none?

JUDGE:

The same ones you tried to escape.

KILLER (grins):

Ah. Morality.

“Good.” “Evil.” Convenient little fictions.

There is no such thing as good or evil. There’s simply what is, and what isn’t.

JUDGE:

And what you did? That simply is ‘what is?’

KILLER:

Precisely.

No different than a storm swallowing a fisherman’s boat. Or a beast tearing flesh to survive.

Nature. No morality to it.

I acted. The world shifted. That is all.

JUDGE:

A storm has no choice.

A beast has no conscience.

KILLER (leans forward):

And humans? You think they do?

No, we pretend. We’re very good at that.

Pretense I mean. We say one thing and mean another. Terrifying, the act, yet we do not feel it so.

That’s the comedy of it all.

You claim righteousness, but indulge cruelty with more intimacy than any creature alive.

If evil existed—truly existed—humanity would be its most devoted companion.

[A pause. The light hums faintly.]

KILLER (softly):

Have you ever heard of the Ortolan?

JUDGE:

A bird.

KILLER:

A dish.

A ritual.

They take it whole. No separation. No civility.

Bone. Flesh. Suffering.

Everything, they consume.

But before they eat… they cover their heads.

JUDGE:

They are ashamed. Rightfully so, it is a shameful act.

KILLER (shakes his head):

No. They say it isn’t shame.

They veil themselves… to hide from God.

[Silence]

KILLER (rising slowly):

That is humanity in its purest form.

Not the act… the admission.

They know what they are doing.

They know it is indulgence.

They know it is cruelty.

But instead of pretending otherwise, or seizing the act altogether… they draw the veil.

JUDGE:

That is not honesty.

It is cowardice.

KILLER (grins):

No. It is consistency.

The rest of you do the same—consume, destroy, take— but you dare lift your gaze to the heavens and call yourselves righteous.

JUDGE:

And you?

KILLER:

Oh, I never bothered with the napkin.

[A beat.]

KILLER (quiet, almost proud):

Again; there’s no such thing as good or evil.

But if there were… humanity would boast of the greatest influence and intimacy with evil of anything—and everything—that exists, feasting endlessly, shrouding its face from God, and convince themselves the darkness is grace.

[A long silence.]

JUDGE (calmly):

You misunderstand the ritual.

KILLER (amused):

Really? Do enlighten me. Please.

JUDGE:

The veil is not defiance.

It is confession.

KILLER:

Confession without repentance is meaningless.

JUDGE:

Not meaningless.

Damning.

[The JUDGE steps forward. The light sharpens.]

JUDGE:

They cover their heads because they know they are seen.

Because something in them trembles at the thought of being caught.

KILLER:

And yet they still eat.

JUDGE:

Yes.

And that is precisely the point.

[Silence stretches.]

JUDGE:

The veil does not cover the act.

It proves they understand it.

KILLER (coldly):

Hypocrites.

JUDGE:

No, they are human.

[A beat.]

JUDGE (firmer):

You, however— removed the veil.

Not out of honesty—but so you would never have to feel the need for it.

[The KILLER says nothing.]

KILLER (slow):

I refused illusion.

JUDGE:

No.

You refused conscience.

[Silence. Heavy.]

JUDGE:

The one who eats beneath the cloth still acknowledges something above him.

You declared there was nothing above you at all.

KILLER:

Because there isn’t.

JUDGE:

Then why defend yourself?

[A pause.]

KILLER:

I am not.

JUDGE:

You are.

Every word. Every metaphor.

Every attempt to make your actions indistinguishable from nature.

[The JUDGE steps closer, the KILLER falters.]

JUDGE:

If there is no good…

No evil…

No witness— then there is no need to justify it.

No need to argue.

No need to speak.

[A long silence.]

JUDGE:

And yet… here you are.

[The light flickers.]

JUDGE:

Not a man who escaped judgement, but one who cannot stop answering to it.

[Darkness.]

The End.

Thoughts? As for me; what I find unsettling isn’t the act itself. It’s the veil.

The acknowledgement that what they’re doing is wrong, so wrong that they have to hide from a higher power most of us claim not to believe in.

Because surely there’s reparations for such an act.

And if there’s no such thing as good or evil, why do we feel the need to justify what we do?

And the justification: hypocrisy, or acknowledgement?

Maybe the question isn’t whether evil or good exists— but whether our need to acknowledge the former more than the latter says more than the act of it ever could.