David Ives, from "Variations on the Death of Trotsky," in All in the Timing, 1989.

Variation One

Trotsky (as he writes): "The proletariat is right. The proletariat must always be right. And the revolution of the proletariat against oppression must go on . . . forever!"

(Mrs. Trotsky enters, grandmotherly and sweet, in an ankle-length dress and high-button shoes. She is holding a large book.)

Mrs. Trotsky: Leon.

Trotsky: "And forever and forever . . .!"

Mrs. Trotsky: Leon, I was just reading the encyclopedia.

Trotsky: The heading?

Mrs. Trotsky: "Trotsky, Leon."

Trotsky: Good. It's about me.

Mrs. Trotsky: Listen to this. (Reads.) "On August 20th, 1940, a Spanish Communist named Ramon Mercader smashed a mountain-climber's axe into Trotsky's skull in Coyoacan, a suburb of Mexico City. Trotsky died the next day."

Trotsky: What is the year of that encyclopedia?

Mrs. Trotsky (checks the spine): 2000.

Trotsky: Strange.

Mrs. Trotsky: Yes.

Trotsky: But interesting. I am Trotsky.

Mrs. Trotsky: Yes, dear.

Trotsky: And this is our house in Coyoacan.

Mrs. Trotsky: Yes.

Trotsky: And we have a Spanish gardener named Ramon--?

Mrs. Trotsky: Mercader. Yes.

Trotsky: Hmmm . . . There aren't any other Trotskys living in Coyoacan, are there?

Mrs. Trotsky: I don't think so. Not under that name.

Trotsky: What is the date today?

Mrs. Trotsky (looks at the calendar): August 21st, 1940.

Trotsky: Then I'm safe! That article says it happened on the twentieth, which means it would've happened yesterday.

Mrs. Trotsky: But Leon . . .

Trotsky: And I'd be dead today, with a mountain-climber's axe in my skull!

Mrs. Trotsky: Um--Leon . . .

Trotsky: Will the capitalist press never get things right? (He resumes writing.)

Mrs. Trotsky: But Leon, isn't that the handle of a moutain-climber's axe, sticking our of your skull?

Trotsky (looks into the mirror): It certainly does look like one. . . . And you know, Ramon was in here yesterday telling me about his moutain-climbing trip. And now that I think of it, he was carrying a mountain-climber's axe. I can't remember if he had it when he left the room. . . . (Trotsky considers all this.) Did Ramon report to work today? (Trotsky dies, falling face forward onto his desk.)