Don't ever let anyone tell you commercial TV is useless. I was watching an episode of The Bionic Woman featuring guest star Vincent Price, who portrayed a man who'd lived alone on a totally automated island for many years. The story quickly devolved into a pale copy of Ten Little Indians, with Price's ingenious robots knocking off one greedy heir after another, but that's not the point. My mind was intrigued by the thought of what would happen to a man if he spent years with only robot companionship.

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A World Called Solitude is the result. It's a brooding piece, but not necessarily an unhappy one. It felt so naturally like a play, with the main action taking place as interplay between the characters, that I've divided it into three acts. I consider it one of my emotionally strongest works.

 

And thank you, Vincent Price.