Luke Harkaway is attending a six months media course at a community centre in the valleys. Cherishing his indepedence, Luke is the catalyst amongst the disparate group he sees every day. Gideon Cooper, an ex-BBC producer, has formed his own company and is about to give a lecture to Luke and his fellow students about making a social documentary about people who should not be outcasts; that is relevant to the digital age: Gideon's intention is to film a man who murdered his wife and children as he is set to return to the village where he was born. Luke sees his opportunity and faces down the unscrupulous Cooper as the others can only watch.

With the strains of the Welsh national anthem playing in the background, the Welsh flag unfurls slowly in the breeze as Luke Harkaway, early twenties, enters. He stares with disgust at the flag as he raises his hand in the Nazi salute, clicks his heels, as the lights come down and come up immediately on a table in the centre of the stage with three computers, five chairs, staggered around. Luke is furious as he searches through the desk drawers.

 Luke:   Where the hell is it? (He slams the door shut and kicks the table). Someone must have had it and it has been hidden on purpose. Typical!

He looks through the others drawers as Clare, late teens, enters stage right, taking her coat off and putting it carefully on the coat hanger. She stifles a yawn.

Clare:  All things pass, Luke. I don’t think Gideon liked the joke on Friday. Am I late? I thought you were the only one in here when I came upstairs. I should not have rushed.

Luke:  You’re learning, my girl. Bullshit baffles brains. In Gideon’s case, I am yet to discover if he has any. Would it make any difference if you were late? Nothing ever happens around here. They are useless everyone one of them. Nothing is as it seems.

Clare:   I never understand your attitude.

Luke:   You haven’t been here long enough yet to understand, Clare.  Question everything and you will not go far wrong.  How I have put up with this shower I will never know.

She walks toward him, sitting on the table, as Luke shakes his head.

Clare:   Were you joking about George Bernard Shaw and Marilyn Monroe?

Luke:    No. She wanted to have his baby. Beauty and brains, Clare. Old George was not much to look at.

Clare:    Perhaps it would help if you told me what you were searching for?

Luke:   I left my outline for the website on the table last night. Have you seen it by any chance?

Clare:   The iron furnace? I read part of it and didn’t understand what you were getting at.

Luke:  You will not understand yet because it is not quite finished. There are one or two things I need to change. I thought Milo had taken it. I’ll explain what it’s about when I get a chance. He will never get one over me.

Clare:    I put it into my folder for safekeeping. I have never seen so many papers left on tables when we leave in the evening.

She goes to her bag and takes the folder out, leafing through it.

Clare:   You’ve put a lot of work into this, Luke.  You should be more careful.

Luke:  Thanks. I didn’t mean to snap at you just now. What I need is something to stretch my imagination and not be bored.

They sit on the table.

Clare:   What’s so special about this project of yours?

Luke quickly reads through the sheets, grinning.

Luke:   I’m doing my own version of the centre’s newsletter. I want to cause some mischief.

Clare:   Milo will not be pleased. He does not like to be contradicted.

Luke:    My point exactly. He will criticize everything I have written because it is not impartial. The status quo will be broken as we thickheads become opponents of all. The old fool is too tired to do anything. He spends more time in his office, playing Solitaire on the computer, than speaking with us.

Clare:  He’s old. You know he can’t be bothered with the work.

Luke:    I don’t give a shit. You get so many people here who think they know everything and they know nothing. What experience has Milo got on teaching information technology? Nothing! He was working as a bank manager until two years ago, decided to re-train, and landed up with this cushy little job and a damn fine pension afterwards. No-one is interested in learning these days. They have forgotten how, Claire. That is why the old knowledge is being neglected and people are directionless.

Clare:   How can you say that?

Luke:   The only way to achieve something is to be educated and being able to think for yourself. A good school is the only chance for children where they will learn. How else can you get on? It will never change unless good teaching is reintroduced and schools were like they once were. Well, I know for a fact that Milo has only got an NVQ level one. How the hell is he teaching us about computers when we know more than he does?

 Clare:   I don’t know much about computers.

Luke slips off the table and walks around.

Luke:   There you go again, Clare. You’re always putting yourself down. Have confidence in your abilities. We’re ten years into the new century and nothing has changed. There is mass unemployment and we are put on expensive schemes that just feather other peoples’ pockets.

Clare:    I’m not like you. I like peace and quiet. I don’t want to cause a fuss. I’ll do my work and that will be it.

Luke:    When I first came here you wouldn’t say a word. I’d never seen anyone so shy.

Clare:   That’s because I didn’t know you. I’ve got to know people for a few weeks before I get chatty. I’m not as outgoing as you seem to think. It takes a lot to trust people you do not know.

Luke:   I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. Don’t listen to what I say in future.

Clare:   You didn’t upset me. We’re all fed up. I just want the six months to go fast here before I go on to something else.

 Luke:   A permanent job?

Clare:   There’s no such thing as that, Luke. I haven’t had a job since I left school. All I’ve been on are a lot of induction days with no chance of a job at the end of them. It’s easy to get bored when you’re doing something you detest.

Luke:   You’re bright, intelligent. You could do anything you want. What do you want to do?

Clare:   I’ve given myself palpitations thinking about it. There’s not much you can do when no-one in your family has worked. My Dad had one job for ten years and lost it through redundancy. He has had odd jobs, but has not worked for many years. He’s been on courses and, instead of being happy as he once was, he’s depressed all the time. It’s the same all over the place. I didn’t mean to put my family down like that. They’ve tried to find work. There just isn’t a good job going. My father says people will not bother to work while the social pays them so much money.

Luke:  You dad is a wise fellow. (Pauses).  You look like you didn’t sleep much last night? Been boozing again? Don’t blush.

Clare:   I’m not blushing. I went out with the girls from here on Saturday night. We had to walk home because we missed the last train from Cardiff. That was early Sunday morning and I still feel knackered now it is Monday.             

Luke:  You would have been up before the deacons if the chapels were still going.

Clare:   Don’t make me laugh! My head is splitting. I should have taken an aspirin before I left the house. The others are late coming in this morning.