The passing of the last witnesses, the return of war to Europe, the rise of political demons we thought we had overcome—the position in history that European societies have claimed for themselves in recent decades seems to be crumbling. What remains is a sense of uncertainty that can be felt everywhere. The arts, too, are searching for an answer.

Documentary theater only appears to fill this gap. For it promises to preserve what is at stake: the authentic expression of memory, which we hope will immunize us against the return of the devastating 20th century. But it is precisely this positivism that runs the risk of repeating the fantasy of overcoming our own histories of violence.

Wouldn't the answer require a theater that finds a language for those things that did not happen? One that exploits the full potential of theater: as a (nightmare) dream machine of a world whose fever curve must be traced again and again? As a place of fiction that depicts a possible future?