THE SADNESS OF EINSTEIN

 

                                                                 by

 

                                                      Charles Deemer

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                                                                                                              3550 SW Pomona St.

                                                                                                              Portland, OR 97219-7518

                                                                                                              charles@charlesdeemer.com

                                                                                                              1-503-452-8277


 

 

 

THE SADNESS OF EINSTEIN

 

by Charles Deemer

 

THE CAST:

 

Robert Manfield, an amateur physicist, 20s

 

Henry Bruno, his companion, an amateur physicist, 20s

 

Leonora, a college student and prostitute, 20s

 

Oskar Gold, a businessman

 

Hermann, a businessman

 

Albert Einstein, the physicist (Oskar, Hermann and Einstein are played by the same actor)

 

THE TIME:

 

Autumn, 1927

 

THE PLACE:

 

Brussels, Belgium

 

THE SET:

 

A hotel room in Brussels. Entrance is stage left. A bed is stage right. Upstage, a window

looking down on the street. The bathroom is shared and located in the hall (exit stage left).

 

----

 

                                                                ACT ONE

 

 

1/

 

(AT RISE: ROBERT and LEONORA are in bed, making love, Leonora on top with her

back to the audience and a sheet around her. She frantically rides Robert below her.

HENRY is at the window, looking across the street with a pair of binoculars. Leonora's

sexual frenzy will increase to the orgasm indicated below.)

 

   HENRY:   The paper this morning called it The Copenhagen Interpretation. Niels

     Bohr debated Einstein and won. Poor Einstein, nobody believes him any more. The

     city fathers welcome him as a hero, the greatest genius of his time, they celebrate

     Einstein Day, but his peers prefer to listen to an unknown from Denmark. The

     Copenhagen Interpretation.


                                                                                                                                                I-2.

 

 

(Henry turns to the bed.)

 

   HENRY:   For God's sake, woman, aren't you finished yet?

 

   ROBERT:   I think she's close

 

   HENRY:   It's time you got dressed.

 

   ROBERT:   (to Leonora) Are you close?

 

(Leonora responds with a passionate cry and increases the tempo of her "riding.")

 

   HENRY:   (looking out the window) One day the world will be talking about The

     Oregon Interpretation. We should be across the street right now, telling them about

     it. The Copenhagen Interpretation is wrong, it has to be. Know what Bohr thinks?

     That it doesn't matter what quantum mechanics is about. All that matters is that it

     works. No wonder poor Einstein is in a tizzy. The paper quotes him as saying, "God

     does not play dice with the universe." Bohr disagrees. Well, God may play dice, all

     right, but the content of quantum mechanics still isn't something to dismiss. Bohr's

     close to the truth but he looks reality square in the eye and is afraid to face the social

     consequences of his won insights.

 

(He turns to the bed again.)

 

   HENRY:   We don't have all day, Robert.

 

   ROBERT:   Are you close?

 

(As before, Leonora replies with a passionate yelp.)

 

   HENRY:   Too much booze last night. I don't know why you're always picking them

     up. You'd think I bore you.

 

   ROBERT:   You don't bore me, Henry.

 

   HENRY:   Then what do you need a woman for?

 

   ROBERT:   I find them fascinating.

 

   HENRY:   Does that mean you have to fuck them?

 

   ROBERT:   Their sexuality if what fascinates me. Look at her. She's in another

     dimension.

 

   HENRY:   She's probably still drunk. You shouldn't have ordered that last bottle of

     champagne.

 

   ROBERT:   She likes me. She said she wants to have my baby.


                                                                                                                                                I-3.

 

 

   HENRY:   Oh barf!

 

   ROBERT:   Actually it's Einstein's baby she really wants. That's why she came to

     Brussels, to get pregnant by Einstein.

 

   HENRY:   Fat chance.

 

   ROBERT:   Maybe not.

 

   HENRY:   I'm sure Einstein has better taste than you do.

 

   ROBERT:   She's an interesting lady. She likes to hear us talk about physics.

 

   HENRY:   She can't possibly understand a word.

 

   ROBERT:   Don't be so sure. She's studying mathematics at the University.

 

   HENRY:   University, my ass.

 

   ROBERT:   She's bright, Henry.

 

   HENRY:   It takes more than "bright" to understand The Oregon Interpretation.

 

   ROBERT:   She can still wonder what we're talking about. Wonder is a greater gift

     than understanding.

 

   HENRY:   Can't you do something to bring her off?

 

   ROBERT:   Leonora? Are you close yet?

 

(Leonora cries out.)

 

   HENRY:   Fondle her breasts or something.

 

(Robert begins to fondle her breasts.)

 

   HENRY:   We don't have all morning. The delegates will be arriving soon.

 

   ROBERT:   Einstein will be among the last to arrive.

 

   HENRY:   You can't be sure.

 

   ROBERT:   The star always shows up late.

 

   HENRY:   The morning paper calls Bohr the star, with his Copenhagen Interpretation.

 

   ROBERT:   I think she's close now.


                                                                                                                                                I-4.

 

 

   HENRY:   Pinch her nipples. Talk dirty to her.

 

   ROBERT:   Here we go!

 

(And Leonora rocks furiously on top of Robert, reaching her orgasm. She collapses on top

of him.)

 

   ROBERT:   Did you see her? No man can come like that.

 

   HENRY:   Rubbish. It's all show. Women are more theatrical.

 

(Henry fetches Robert a robe. Robert gets out from under Leonora but remains in bed.)

 

   ROBERT:   I didn't know anyone could be more theatrical than you are, Henry.

 

   HENRY:   Very funny. Here. Give me a kiss.

 

(They peck like old lovers.)

 

(Leonora stirs, grabbing a nearby robe. She throws it over her and exits to the bathroom,

taking clothes with her.)

 

   HENRY:   Get dressed. We don't have much time.

 

   ROBERT:   I want to shower.

 

   HENRY:   I don't think there's time.

 

   ROBERT:   What time is it?

 

   HENRY:   Almost nine. They call to order at nine-thirty.

 

   ROBERT:   Einstein won't arrive before nine-twenty-five.

 

   HENRY:   We don't want to miss our best crack at him. Better safe than sorry.

 

   ROBERT:   Where's the paper?

 

(Henry fetches it for him.)

 

   HENRY:   The Copenhagen Interpretation, they call it.

 

   ROBERT:   And Bohr debated Einstein and won?

 

   HENRY:   Consensus: God does play dice with the universe.

 

   ROBERT:   He does and he doesn't.


                                                                                                                                                I-5.

 

 

   HENRY:   Exactly: The Oregon Interpretation.

 

   ROBERT:   I'll be curious what Einstein has to say about it.

 

   HENRY:   It doesn't matter what he has to say about it: we're right, Robert. The

     scientific community can't deny us that, not when they comprehend what we're saying.

 

   ROBERT:   It matters what Einstein thinks about it because he matters as a person.

 

   HENRY:   We're discussion his worth as a physicist, not as a person.

 

   ROBERT:   You're a romantic, Henry. You think it matters that someone is a

     physicist, that it provides some sort of privilege in life. It doesn't.

 

   HENRY:   Would we be in Brussels if we weren't physicists?

 

   ROBERT:   We're in Brussels because you were born with the accident of wealthy

     parents.

 

   HENRY:   And because we have something to contribute.

 

   ROBERT:   Einstein matters as a person, is all I'm saying. That's a moral imperative.

 

   HENRY:   What matters is that we find Einstein and that he understands us.

 

   ROBERT:   I'd be delighted if he understood us; then he could defeat this upstart

     Bohr and be the reigning champion again.

 

   HENRY:   We'll be the reigning champions.

 

   ROBERT:   Don't be greedy. Our work would be meaningless without the footwork

     prepared by Einstein.

 

   HENRY:   And you're a fine one to bring up morality, screwing every whore you can

     get your hands on.

 

   ROBERT:   Do you think Leonora matters to me?

 

   HENRY:   You've been spending all your time with her.

 

   ROBERT:   For God sakes, Henry, what's wrong with amusing the poor girl? We're

     probably giving her the best time she's had in her life. Think of the stories she can

     tell, meeting the great Einstein.

 

   HENRY:   If she knew anything, she'd talk about meeting us.

 

   ROBERT:   You're a very greedy genius, Henry.


                                                                                                                                                I-6.

 

 

   HENRY:   Perhaps it's the nature of the beast.

 

(Leonora enters, partially dressed.)

 

   ROBERT:   How do you feel?

 

   LEONORA:   Really good.

 

   ROBERT:   It was good for me, too.

 

   LEONORA:   Really?

 

   ROBERT:   Really.

 

   LEONORA:   I was hoping it would be. I was so wrapped up in myself, I wasn't

     paying attention.

 

   HENRY:   Now there's a greedy attitude if I ever heard one.

 

   LEONORA:   I always get carried away by my own pleasure.

 

   ROBERT:   Perfectly natural.

 

   HENRY:   Thank you for being so open-minded. Now perhaps you can get dressed

     and when can do what we came here to do.

 

   ROBERT:   I could use a cup of coffee before I shower.

 

   HENRY:   We don't have time for coffee!

 

   ROBERT:   Sure we do. You'd like coffee, wouldn't you, Leonora?

 

   LEONORA:   If it's all right.

 

   ROBERT:   Of course it's all right.

 

(Robert fetches money for coffee.)

 

   HENRY:   They'll be arriving any minute!

 

   ROBERT:   We both take ours black.

 

   LEONORA:   I'll be right back.

 

(She exits for coffee.)

 

   HENRY:   At least get dressed.


                                                                                                                                                I-7.

 

 

   ROBERT:   We're right on schedule, Henry. You worry too much. You're a bundle

     of nerves this morning.

 

   HENRY:   Of course I'm a bundle of nerves! We come all the way to Brussels to talk

     to Einstein and you spend your time playing games with a street whore.

 

   ROBERT:   She's not a street whore. She attends the University in Amsterdam and

     works part-time in the student whorehouse there.

 

   HENRY:   Oh barf!

 

   ROBERT:   She knows about the Schrodinger Equations. She asked some very

     perceptive questions about them.

 

   HENRY:   Have you considered what disease she may have given you?

 

   ROBERT:   She strikes me as a perfectly nice girl. I'm sure she's clean.

 

   HENRY:   A whore!?

 

   ROBERT:   She's a whore because she's poor. It's the only way she can afford an

     education. But she's also bright. Lots of bright girls in Amsterdam earn their way

     through the University that way. They have a more mature attitude toward sex over

     there.

 

   HENRY:   If she had brains, she'd have a scholarship. She wouldn't have to stoop to

     whoring.

 

   ROBERT:   It's not the worst way to make a living.

 

   HENRY:   Name something worst.

 

   ROBERT:   Being an economist. A sociologist. A politician. Writing drama reviews

     for the local weekly.

 

   HENRY:   You still can't be sure she's clean.

 

   ROBERT:   She seemed perfectly clean to me.

 

   HENRY:   What is that supposed to mean?

 

   ROBERT:   It means what I said. I have no evidence that she's diseased in any way.

 

   HENRY:   But do you have evidence from ignorance or because you performed an

     experiment and got negative results?

 

   ROBERT:   The latter.


                                                                                                                                                I-8.

 

 

   HENRY:   Gross me out!

 

   ROBERT:   Damn it, Henry, you keep taking everything personally.

 

   HENRY:   How am I supposed to take it?

 

   ROBERT:   I'm curious. I'm fascinated.

 

   HENRY:   You ate her out, didn't you?

 

   ROBERT:   Of course.

 

   HENRY:   It makes me want to puke.

 

   ROBERT:   Don't be jealous, it wasn't personal. You brought up the notion of an

     experiment. That's exactly what it was. I was curious and so I investigated her

     anatomy, you might say.

 

   HENRY:   The female anatomy disgusts me. The way they bleed.

 

   ROBERT:   Well, she wasn't bleeding. I'm curious about the world, is all. Women

     are in the world, so I'm curious about them, too.

 

   HENRY:   Women are an aberration. The dinosaurs of the species. How can they

     survive? They can't even think rationally.

 

   ROBERT:   They can feel.

 

   HENRY:   Thinking comes first.

 

   ROBERT:   Leonora is no dummy, Henry.

 

   HENRY:   I don't believe you. You're more interested in a whore than in me and the

     reason we're here.

 

   ROBERT:   That's not true.

 

(But Henry has moved away, hurt.)

 

   ROBERT:   Don't do this, Henry.

 

(No reply.)

 

   ROBERT:   Look, we'll have coffee and then we'll go downstairs and bring Einstein

     up here when he arrives. How's that?

 

(No reply.)


                                                                                                                                                I-9.

 

 

   ROBERT:   I'll get dressed.

 

(Robert fetches his clothes and exits.)

 

(Henry turns back into the room. Leonora enters with the coffee.)

 

   LEONORA:   Where's Robert?

 

   HENRY:   He's taking a shower. He's making sure he's clean.

 

   LEONORA:   Here's your coffee.

 

   HENRY:   Thank you.

 

   LEONORA:   I couldn't remember how you took it. I brought cream and sugar.

 

   HENRY:   We both take it black. Robert specifically said so.

 

   LEONORA:   I didn't remember.

 

   HENRY:   You must have a very short memory span.

 

   LEONORA:   What?

 

   HENRY:   Forget it.

 

(A pause.)

 

   LEONORA:   Why don't you like me?

 

   HENRY:   What makes you think I don't like you.

 

   LEONORA:   It's obvious.

 

(A pause.)

 

   LEONORA:   Do you want to have sex?

 

(No reply.)

 

   LEONORA:   Do you want to fuck me?

 

   HENRY:   Astounding.

 

   LEONORA:   What is?

 

   HENRY:   Your question. I find it quite remarkable.


                                                                                                                                              I-10.

 

 

   LEONORA:   I just thought you might be feeling left out.

 

   HENRY:   And what ever led you to that conclusion?

 

   LEONORA:   You don't seem to like me. I thought maybe because Robert and I have

     been doing it so much. Don't you want to do it with me?

 

   HENRY:   No thank you.

 

   LEONORA:   With both of us then?

 

   HENRY:   What?

 

   LEONORA:   You can join us whenever you want. I'm sure Robert wouldn't mind.

     He's very experimental.

 

   HENRY:   Astounding squared. To the nth power!

 

   LEONORA:   What?

 

   HENRY:   That's becoming our common form of address, "what?" We have so much

     in common.

 

   LEONORA:   See, you don't like me.

 

   HENRY:   Let me ask you something. Do you want to have Robert's baby?

 

   LEONORA:   Then that's it. You're jealous because I don't want to have yours. I

     hardly know you. Are you a genius, too?

 

   HENRY:   Of course I'm a genius. Why would I be in Brussels if I wasn't a genius?

 

   LEONORA:   You've ignored me since I came up here. You're always scowling at me.

     I don't think you like me. I must not be your type.

 

   HENRY:   Perhaps I owe you an apology.

 

   LEONORA:   What?

 

   HENRY:   What what?

 

(A pause.)

 

   LEONORA:   I don't know who's supposed to speak.

 

   HENRY:   Why should anyone speak?


                                                                                                                                              I-11.

 

 

   LEONORA:   Because we're having a conversation. We can't have a conversation

     unless we speak.

 

   HENRY:   What what what?

 

   LEONORA:   What?

 

(A pause.)

 

   HENRY:   Let's start over. I owe you an apology. I thought you were an imbecile.

 

   LEONORA:   Why?

 

   HENRY:   Damn. I just changed my mind.

 

   LEONORA:   What?

 

   HENRY:   What what?

 

   LEONORA:   Look, I don't know why you don't like me. But obviously you do, so

     let's just forget it, okay?

 

   HENRY:   One question. Why do you want to have Robert's baby?

 

   LEONORA:   Because he's a genius, and I like him.

 

   HENRY:   I'm a genius and you don't want to have my baby -- thank God!

 

   LEONORA:   There's no reason to be nasty about it. I don't even know you, except

     that you spend so much time scowling at me and being insulting. Don't think I don't

     know what you're doing. You insult me because you think I'm stupid. Well, I'm a

     math major at the University back home, mister. You don't know a thing about me,

     so you can just shove your opinions.

 

(A pause.)

 

   HENRY:   Well, then. Shall we start over and try again?

 

   LEONORA:   No. I don't enjoy the way we talk.

 

   HENRY:   Then what can we do to amuse one another?

 

   LEONORA:   If you want a blow job, forget it.

 

   HENRY:   My God, you do have a one-track mind, don't you? You really are a whore.

 

   LEONORA:   You're jealous because I spend all my time with Robert.


                                                                                                                                              I-12.

 

 

(Henry laughs.)

 

   LEONORA:   I don't know what's so funny. You paid for me. Robert did. I assumed

     you two were together. I thought you wanted a group scene.

 

   HENRY:   I shouldn't be laughing at you. I should be laughing at the father of your

     baby. He's such a romantic.

 

   LEONORA:   He's very romantic, as a matter of fact.

 

   HENRY:   Let's go back to the beginning. Did you bring the coffee?

 

   LEONORA:   What? No! Just forget I even said that. I'm sick and tired of being

     insulted.

 

   HENRY:   Actually we began with cleanliness, didn't we? Are you clean, dear?

 

   LEONORA:   Of course I'm clean. The University gives us weekly checkups.

 

   HENRY:   The University really runs a whorehouse?

 

   LEONORA:   Look, I don't like that term. We provide an important service. As a

     matter of fact, we get as many professors as students. And we do much better on the

     National Comprehensives than University branches that don't provide our service.

     Sexual satisfaction and learning go hand in hand.

 

   HENRY:   But you haven't been inspected since you came to Brussels. What

     happened on Wednesday and Thursday?

 

   LEONORA:   Nothing happened.

 

   HENRY:   Let me ask you this. How do you know Robert is clean?

 

   LEONORA:   You don't think he's clean?

 

   HENRY:   Aha! So you took a risk with him, didn't you?

 

   LEONORA:   What are you guys trying to pull here?

 

(Robert enters, clean and dressed.)

 

   ROBERT:   Is my coffee cold?

 

   LEONORA:   He says you're not clean.

 

   ROBERT:   Oh Christ, Henry.


                                                                                                                                              I-13.

 

 

   HENRY:   I did not say you weren't clean. I was presenting an hypothesis, trying to

     show her that she was taking a risk to have sex with you.

 

   ROBERT:   I'm clean, she's clean. The only one who hasn't showered this morning is

     you.

 

   LEONORA:   He's been insulting me ever since you left.

 

   ROBERT:   Leave her alone, will you?

 

   HENRY:   I don't want her here.

 

   ROBERT:   She isn't bothering anyone.

 

   HENRY:   It's time to take care of business.

 

   ROBERT:   I told her she could meet Einstein.

 

   HENRY:   There's no point in it.

 

   ROBERT:   She'll sit in the corner and listen. What harm can she do?

 

   HENRY:   She managed to botch things up so far.

 

   ROBERT:   How? What's she done?

 

   HENRY:   Distracted your curiosity, let us say. Sexed you into playing this idiotic

     game about having your child. Or Einstein's child, however it goes.

 

   LEONORA:   As long as it's not yours, mister! The kid would be an idiot.

 

   HENRY:   You're an idiot, if you think you'll get pregnant after a few rolls in the sack.

 

   ROBERT:   It's her fertile time, Henry.

 

   LEONORA:   My moon's in Libra.

 

   HENRY:   My cock's up your ass if you don't shut up.

 

   LEONORA:   Is that what you want? Why didn't you say so in the first place?

 

   HENRY:   Robert, see what I mean? How in hell can we concentrate on business if

     we have to deal with that?

 

   ROBERT:   When Einstein's here, she'll be fine.

 

(Henry moves to the window and looks out.)


                                                                                                                                              I-14.

 

 

   HENRY:   Oh shit, delegates are going into the hotel already!

 

   ROBERT:   Then let's get to work.

 

   HENRY:   Einstein may already have entered.

 

   ROBERT:   He's going to be among the last, trust me. He needs to make a grand

     entrance after everyone else is there.

 

(They are heading for the door.)

 

   HENRY:   If you're wrong--

 

   ROBERT:   Relax. In that case, we'll get him on his way out.

 

(Henry exits.)

 

   ROBERT:   Leonora, wait here. We'll be right back.

 

   LEONORA:   I don't like him.

 

   ROBERT:   He's nervous, is all.

 

   LEONORA:   I don't care if he doesn't want to go to bed with me but I don't like

     being insulted.

 

   ROBERT:   His bark is louder than his bite.

 

   LEONORA:   Fine. Just tell him to leave me alone.

 

   ROBERT:   I'll tell him. Just stay put, okay?

 

(Robert exits.)

 

(Leonora goes to the window. She picks up the binoculars and looks outside. BLACKOUT.)

 

2/ A SHORT TIME LATER

 

(LIGHTS UP. The door flings open and OSKAR is pushed into the room, followed

quickly by Henry and Robert. Leonora is startled. Oskar is costumed as Einstein.)

 

   HENRY:   Here we are, professor. Make yourself at home.

 

   OSKAR:   That's not so easy under the circumstances.

 

   ROBERT:   Can I get you coffee?

 

   OSKAR:   I don't want coffee. I want an explanation.


                                                                                                                                              I-15.

 

 

   HENRY:   We told you: we just want to talk to you.

 

   OSKAR:   We could have talked on the street. You forced me to come with you.

 

   HENRY:   Talk at length. Talk physics. It's more private here.

 

   ROBERT:   If the world were just, professor, we'd be across the street and therefore

     could hold our discussion in the proper forum. Unfortunately, since we have no

     reputations, we were not invited to the conference.

 

   OSKAR:   You are scientists?

 

   HENRY:   To be specific, we're the greatest two physicists of our generation. You

     can understand our disappointment in being denied an invitation.

 

   OSKAR:   I still don't understand.

 

   HENRY:   Prof. Einstein, remember how young you were yourself when you

     formulated your great relativity theories. And how unknown. So with us.

 

   ROBERT:   Please sit down. I'm sorry the room isn't more comfortable.

 

   OSKAR:   So what do you want to talk about?

 

   HENRY:   Everything.

 

(Leonora finally comes forward.)

 

   LEONORA:   Hello. I'm Leonora.

 

   OSKAR:   Hello.

 

   LEONORA:   I was wondering--

 

   HENRY:   You're not here to wonder.

 

   ROBERT:   Let her have her say, Henry.

 

   HENRY:   You said she wouldn't be in the way.

 

   ROBERT:   We do have important things to talk about, Leonora. You understand,

     don't you?

 

   LEONORA:   Of course.

 

   ROBERT:   Say what you have to say and then be quiet and listen. Okay?

 

   LEONORA:   (to Oskar) I was wondering ... can I have your autograph?


                                                                                                                                              I-16.

 

 

   OSKAR:   My autograph?

 

   HENRY:   No, you can't have his autograph! Now sit down over there and be still --

     or it's out you go.

 

   ROBERT:   I'll be sure you get his autograph.

 

(Leonora moves to the bed, to sulk but also to listen.)

 

   HENRY:   I read this morning's paper, professor. It says Bohr made mincemeat of

     you yesterday with his Copenhagen Interpretation.

 

   ROBERT:   Now it wasn't worded that strongly. He beat you in debate.

 

   HENRY:   That's why it's so important that we talk to you now.

 

   OSKAR:   At the moment, I'm missing the discussions.

 

   HENRY:   We'll have you back to the conference before they adjourn for lunch. So

     shall we begin with a thought experiment, Robert?

 

   ROBERT:   Why not?

 

   OSKAR:   A thought experiment?

 

   HENRY:   Right in your ballpark, professor. We call this thought experiment the

     paradox of the Quantum Cat.

 

(During the thought experiment below, as Henry and Robert become more excited about

their ideas, the pace of their exchange in the telling will increase greatly. Their conclusion

is not unlike, in energy, the release of Leonora in her orgasm at the beginning of the play.)

 

   HENRY:   We have a cat and we place it inside a box. The box is tightly sealed. In

     the box is also a device that can release a poisonous gas that will instantly kill the cat.

 

   ROBERT:   Whether the gas is released or not is determined by a random event. In

     this case, the random event is the radioactive decay of an atom.

 

   HENRY:   We have a sample of atoms with a half-life of one hour. We know that in

     an hour, half the atoms will have decayed. However, whether a particular atom --

     the one that will release the poisonous gas -- decays or not is problematical: a fifty-

     fifty chance, after an hour. The new Quantum Mechanics tells us this.

 

   ROBERT:   We perform the experiment that decays the atom or does not decay the

     atom--

 

   HENRY:   --but there's no way of knowing which, unless we unseal the box and look

     inside it.


                                                                                                                                              I-17.

 

 

   ROBERT:   And then we can see for ourselves whether the cat is dead or alive.

 

   HENRY:   But what if we delay in taking a peek? What if we have to go to the

     bathroom first, so instead of opening the box to see what happened to the cat, we go

     to the bathroom instead.

 

   ROBERT:   And the question is, what does this leave the cat?

 

   HENRY:   The answer to which, according to Newton and classical physics, is quite

     easy: it leaves the cat dead or alive, one eventuality of which happened as soon as

     we did the experiment.

 

   ROBERT:   As soon as the gas was released or not released.

 

   HENRY:   And though we have no way of knowing yet, until we look inside the box,

     the cat is dead or the cat is alive.

 

   ROBERT:   Either dead or alive.

 

   HENRY:   But, of course, this is not a description of reality as described by quantum

     mechanics.

 

   ROBERT:   Wherein lies the rub.

 

   HENRY:   For quantum theory tells us the situation is not so simple. According to

     Bohr and his Copenhagen Interpretation--

 

   ROBERT:   --which the morning paper says is quite convincing to the conference

     delegates at large--

 

   HENRY:   --the cat is neither dead nor alive but instead is represented by a wave

     function that contains the possibility that the cat is alive and also the possibility that

     the cat is not alive--

 

   ROBERT:   --the equation describing the decay contains both probabilities--

 

   HENRY:   --but neither possibility actualizes until we open the box and look at the

     results for ourselves--

 

   ROBERT:   --the wave function collapses at this point--

 

   HENRY:   --and neither possibility becomes an actuality until we look inside the box--

 

   ROBERT:   --so that while we're in the bathroom--

 

   HENRY:   --there is no cat at all--

 

   ROBERT:   --there is no cat in the box--


                                                                                                                                              I-18.

 

 

   HENRY:   --the only thing in the box--

 

   ROBERT:   --is the wave function--

 

   HENRY:   --the probability equation--

 

   ROBERT:   --so while we're in the bathroom--

 

   HENRY:   --answering nature's call--

 

   ROBERT:   --the cat--

 

   HENRY:   --in fact--

 

   ROBERT:   --does not exist.

 

(A pause.)

 

   ROBERT:   In other words, the cat does not exist until we ourselves open the box

     and look at it -- to find it dead or alive. It doesn't have an existence without our

     participation in determining the end of the experiment. Then we see a dead cat or a

     live cat.

 

(A pause.)

 

   HENRY:   So far, so good?

 

   OSKAR:   You mean, there's more?

 

   HENRY:   That's the Copenhagen Interpretation. We create a dead cat or we create a

     live cat. But what if, in fact, we create both, each in its own universe?

 

   OSKAR:   What?

 

   HENRY:   The Oregon Interpretation. We agree that the fate of the cat is not

     determined until we open the box. While we are answering nature's call, there's no

     cat in the box, only the wave function probability equation.

 

   ROBERT:   But once we open the box!--

 

   HENRY:   --something else entirely has happened--

 

   ROBERT:   --for at the moment the atom decays, the world splits into two branches--

 

   HENRY:   --each containing one of the possibilities for the fate of the cat--

 

   ROBERT:   --a world in which the cat lives--


                                                                                                                                              I-19.

 

 

   HENRY:   --a world in which the cat dies--

 

   ROBERT:   --and when we open the box to look inside--

 

   HENRY:   --the wave function also splits in two--

 

   ROBERT:   --one branch associated with the cat living--

 

   HENRY:   --one branch associated with the cat dying--

 

   ROBERT:   --and though we see only one branch for ourselves--

 

   HENRY:   --the other branch still exists--

 

   ROBERT:   --in a mode we can't apprehend--

 

   HENRY:   --so that, in fact, the cat is alive and dead--

 

   ROBERT:   --simultaneously--

 

   HENRY:   --at the same time--

 

   ROBERT:   --rather in two universes at the same time--

 

   HENRY:   --each with a different actuality--

 

   ROBERT:   --a dead cat in one universe--

 

   HENRY:   --a live cat in another universe--

 

   ROBERT:   --but neither able to perceive the other.

 

   HENRY:   The Oregon Interpretation!

 

(A pause.)

 

   OSKAR:   Oregon, huh? Where's that?

 

   ROBERT:   In the northwestern part of the United States.

 

   OSKAR:   So that's what you think in Oregon?

 

   HENRY:   What two of us think.

 

(A pause.)

 

   OSKAR:   I don't know what to say.


                                                                                                                                              I-20.

 

 

   HENRY:   Think about it.

 

(A pause.)

 

   LEONORA:   Do you really poison cats?

 

   HENRY:   Robert!

 

   ROBERT:   No, we don't poison cats. Just sit and listen, okay?

 

   LEONORA:   You really don't poison--

 

   HENRY:   No! But we murder people who interrupt us when we're talking physics.

 

(A pause.)

 

   HENRY:   The Oregon Interpretation, Prof. Einstein. The cat exists in two worlds

     simultaneously, dead in one universe, alive in another universe. You can imagine

     the complexity when every possibility branches out this way. Why, there's a universe

     out there in which you're still working as a clerk!

 

(Oskar pulls off his wig.)

 

   OSKAR:   And there's a universe where I'm not Einstein -- this one!

 

(Leonora lets out a little gasp.)

 

   OSKAR:   Hello, Leonora. So this is what happened to you.

 

   HENRY:   You know her?

 

   OSKAR:   Yes. We met earlier in the week.

 

   HENRY:   I don't get it. Who are you? Why the disguise?

 

   OSKAR:   Oskar. The business community declared today as Einstein Day. I attended

     a breakfast in his honor. I entered the look-alike contest.

 

   HENRY:   Great, just great. We've been in Brussels two days and have gotten

     nowhere!

 

   ROBERT:   Relax, Henry. We've got lots of time.

 

   OSKAR:   (to get out) Since I'm not the professor--

 

   HENRY:   Wait a minute. How come you know her?

 

   OSKAR:   Let's just say we did business together.


                                                                                                                                              I-21.

 

 

   LEONORA:   I'm sorry about last night, Oskar.

 

   OSKAR:   You missed an excellent dinner.

 

   LEONORA:   I should've called you at the restaurant.

 

   OSKAR:   Yes, that would have been polite.

 

   LEONORA:   When I met Robert, him, I just lost track of all time and--

 

   OSKAR:   I understand. You want a genius to father your baby. Are you two geniuses?

 

   HENRY:   Quite.

 

   LEONORA:   I'm really sorry, Oskar. You've been really nice to me. Maybe I can

     make it up to you?

 

   OSKAR:   You needn't bother.

 

   LEONORA:   You've been very sweet and generous. Let me make it up to you. What

     are you doing for the next half-hour?

 

   OSKAR:   It doesn't matter. I've been lied to before.

 

   LEONORA:   I feel terrible. Please: on me.

 

   OSKAR:   There'd be no charge?

 

   LEONORA:   What do you say?

 

   OSKAR:   Where?

 

   LEONORA:   There's a vacant room just down the hall.

 

   OSKAR:   I am free for an hour ...

 

   LEONORA:   (to Robert) You don't mind? I mean, I did miss our dinner date.

 

   ROBERT:   Be my guest.

 

   LEONORA:   I'll be back in an hour.

 

   ROBERT:   No rush.

 

   LEONORA:   You won't miss me?

 

   OSKAR:   If you two are going to have a love spat--


                                                                                                                                              I-22.

 

 

   ROBERT:   She's all yours. Henry and I have business to take care of.

 

   HENRY:   Oh really? I'd never have known it.

 

   ROBERT:   You go on.

 

   LEONORA:   Will I see you again?

 

   ROBERT:   If you want.

 

   LEONORA:   In about an hour?

 

   ROBERT:   Sure.

 

   HENRY:   No!

 

   ROBERT:   Knock on the door first.

 

   OSKAR:   I don't have--

 

   ROBERT:   She's on her way.

 

(Robert escorts them to the door.)

 

   LEONORA:   In an hour--

 

   ROBERT:   Sure. Have fun.

 

(Oscar and Leonora exit.)

 

   HENRY:   What is wrong with you?

 

   ROBERT:   Not a thing.

 

   HENRY:   First you're fathering her baby; then you're treating her like the whore she is.

 

   ROBERT:   I paid for her -- so theoretically she is a whore.

 

   HENRY:   Oskar's getting a freebie on your time.

 

   ROBERT:   It was rude to stand him up. She owes him one.

 

   HENRY:   I don't want her back here, Robert. I don't like what she does to you.

 

   ROBERT:   She fascinates me -- nothing more.

 

   HENRY:   I think you're stuck on her.


                                                                                                                                              I-23.

 

 

   ROBERT:   Don't be silly.

 

   HENRY:   I sense more than curiosity.

 

   ROBERT:   Mainly curiosity.

 

   HENRY:   Curiosity killed the cat, Robert. Think about it.

 

   ROBERT:   Killed the Quantum Cat, do you think?

 

   HENRY:   Very funny.

 

   ROBERT:   I think so.

 

   HENRY:   Well, I don't! I haven't found a single thing amusing in the last two days.

     We came here for a specific purpose, a single solitary clear goal that we discussed

     before we even left the States. If I'd known you'd spend all your time chasing

     whores, I wouldn't have come.

 

   ROBERT:   I haven't been chasing whores. I bought her for three days so we'd all be

     together.

 

   HENRY:   Three days! You didn't tell me you bought her for three days.

 

   ROBERT:   Just in case.

 

   HENRY:   In case what? If case she wanted to have your baby?

 

   ROBERT:   In case we had problems with Einstein.

 

   HENRY:   Oh, we have problems in that department, thanks to your lack of interest.

 

   ROBERT:   The man looks like Einstein. You thought so, too.

 

   HENRY:   What an idiotic way to honor a man, with a look-alike contest.

 

   ROBERT:   I don't know -- it strikes me as something you'd love, Henry. You'd be

     ecstatic if the whole world looked like you.

 

   HENRY:   Not at breakfast. Barf.

 

   ROBERT:   The city fathers were trying to honor him. Don't blame them for doing

     their civic duty -- even if it is gauche.

 

   HENRY:   And what do you know about being gauche? You spend the morning

     eating out a whore, you invite her to spend three days with us--

 

   ROBERT:   Will you calm down a minute? We do have work to do.


                                                                                                                                              I-24.

 

 

   HENRY:   Suddenly you're interested in what we came here for?

 

   ROBERT:   We went down there and did our job, didn't we? How were we to know

     there was a look-alike contest? So we'll wait til their lunch break and get him then.

 

   HENRY:   It won't be as easy. They trickle in in the morning but at break, they come

     out in groups. We won't have a chance to isolate him.

 

   ROBERT:   Maybe we won't, maybe we will.

 

   HENRY:   Einstein and Bohr will probably come out together, still arguing. And

     they'll be surrounded by delegates taking sides. It'll be a madhouse at break.

 

   ROBERT:   Then we'll get him tonight or in the morning. No harm done.

 

   HENRY:   Oh, of course not, it's not your money that's paying for everything.

 

   ROBERT:   Not yours either, Henry.

 

   HENRY:   It's mine by inheritance.

 

   ROBERT:   Your parents aren't dead yet.

 

   HENRY:   So what? I'm spending a little now instead of later.

 

   ROBERT:   I have your father to thank--

 

   HENRY:   Oh God!

 

   ROBERT:   And all the cattle as well. They're the ones really financing this.

 

   HENRY:   You just have to rub it in, don't you?

 

   ROBERT:   Rub what in, Henry?

 

   HENRY:   You know perfectly well what I mean.

 

   ROBERT:   I was just saying that--

 

   HENRY:   You just love to remind me that my parents aren't cultured.

 

   ROBERT:   They're millionaires, they don't have to be cultured.

 

   HENRY:   They're not really that wealthy.

 

   ROBERT:   Enough to finance their son's escapades.

 

   HENRY:   You chase whores and I'm on an escapade!


                                                                                                                                              I-25.

 

 

   ROBERT:   Your father thinks physics is an escapade.

 

   HENRY:   A thought like that is too complex for my father.

 

   ROBERT:   That's what he told me.

 

   HENRY:   When?

 

   ROBERT:   When I was picking you up for the airport. You were late, as usual, so

     your father and I had a little chat.

 

   HENRY:   You didn't tell me that.

 

   ROBERT:   It didn't seem important.

 

   HENRY:   My father thinks physics, my life, is an escapade -- and it isn't important?

 

   ROBERT:   You regard your father as a stupid farmer.

 

   HENRY:   Rancher.

 

   ROBERT:   A baby-sitter of cows, that's what you called him once. A man like that

     can't be expected to understand physics.

 

   HENRY:   He really said that this trip was an escapade?

 

   ROBERT:   "I suppose you boys will be chasing a lot of women over there. Between

     you and me, it's an escapade I would've enjoyed at your age." His exact words.

 

   HENRY:   Save me!

 

   ROBERT:   Well, you can't expect him to believe the truth, even if he suspected it.

 

   HENRY:   Was my mother there?

 

   ROBERT:   She was in the barn. She didn't come into the house til you were

     downstairs and ready to go.

 

   HENRY:   Why do we get the parents we do?

 

   ROBERT:   Think of it this way -- in another universe, you have different parents.

     Of course, you might not be a physicist, or even very bright.

 

   HENRY:   How could parents like that have me? Do you think I was adopted?

 

   ROBERT:   Genius often has humble roots.

 

   HENRY:   Why couldn't I have parents like yours?


                                                                                                                                              I-26.

 

 

   ROBERT:   A high-school math teacher couldn't afford to send us to Europe. I think

     your parents deserve our thanks.

 

   HENRY:   Not that we're accomplishing anything ...

 

   ROBERT:   Oh, we will, we will.

 

   HENRY:   I'd feel like a fool if we don't.

 

   ROBERT:   It wouldn't be your fault.

 

   HENRY:   A fool for trusting you. For believing you thought the same way I did

     about the Oregon Interpretation.

 

   ROBERT:   The trouble with you, Henry, is you can't take any time off to play. With

     you, it's all work.

 

   HENRY:   And who would I play with, might I ask? I could be here alone, for all the

     company I get.

 

   ROBERT:   You can play with me.

 

   HENRY:   I'd feel like I was walking into a second-hand store.

 

   ROBERT:   I just took a shower.

 

   HENRY:   Why do you treat me this way?

 

   ROBERT:   How am I treating you?

 

   HENRY:   Like a stranger.

 

   ROBERT:   You don't have to be a stranger.

 

   HENRY:   All you do is reject me.

 

   ROBERT:   She means nothing to me. My fascination isn't anything new, you know.

 

   HENRY:   It's one thing to look at those photographs you save and quite another to

     pick up a whore in the flesh. You've been giving all your attention to her.

 

   ROBERT:   I'm not giving her my attention now.

 

   HENRY:   What happens when she gets back?

 

   ROBERT:   She's nothing to me. I'm having fun with her. She's so sincere. So noble.


                                                                                                                                              I-27.

 

 

   HENRY:   Well, that's something I'm not, is noble, and this whole line of talk sounds

     mighty fishy to me, Robert, I'll tell you that.

 

(A pause.)

 

   ROBERT:   Well?

 

(A pause.)

 

   HENRY:   Oh Christ, why do I let myself give in to you all the time?

 

   ROBERT:   I don't know, Henry. Why?

 

   HENRY:   You cause me so much goddamn pain.

 

   ROBERT:   Want me to go?

 

   HENRY:   Go where?

 

   ROBERT:   Out. Anywhere. If you don't want me here ...

 

(He starts for the door.)

 

   HENRY:   Wait!

 

(A pause.)

 

   HENRY:   Please don't go.

 

(They slowly approach one another as LIGHTS FADE TO BLACKOUT.)

 

3/ AN HOUR LATER

 

(AT RISE: Robert and Henry are in bed after making love.)

 

   HENRY:   What are you thinking?

 

   ROBERT:   I was wondering, actually.

 

   HENRY:   Wondering what?

 

   ROBERT:   Wondering when you were going to ask me what I was thinking.

 

   HENRY:   You had a premonition?

 

   ROBERT:   Henry, you usually ask me what I'm thinking when we're done.

 

   HENRY:   If you'd tell me one time, I wouldn't have to ask.


                                                                                                                                              I-28.

 

 

   ROBERT:   I tell you the same thing every time -- it was sweet.

 

   HENRY:   Yes, it was.

 

(A pause.)

 

   HENRY:   Is it very different for you -- with a woman?

 

   ROBERT:   Different, yes. Not as sweet. More technical.

 

   HENRY:   Technical? I don't understand.

 

   ROBERT:   Like an experiment, engaging wonder and curiosity -- but no passion.

     There's no passion in it at all.

 

   HENRY:   For someone as passionate as you are--

 

   ROBERT:   Only with you, Henry.

 

   HENRY:   That's such a sweet thing to say. Especially if it's true.

 

   ROBERT:   Of course, it's true.

 

   HENRY:   I know. I just like to hear you repeat it.

 

   ROBERT:   It's true, it's true, it's true ...

 

(They embrace. There's a knock on the door.)

 

   HENRY:   Oh shit ...

 

   ROBERT:   I have to let her in.

 

   HENRY:   Why?

 

   ROBERT:   I don't want to hurt her feelings.

 

(Another knock.)

 

   ROBERT:   Just a minute!

 

   HENRY:   What about my feelings?

 

   ROBERT:   You're a mature, sensitive, intelligent genius -- which means you listen

     to reason. Sometimes.

 

(They get out of bed, quickly slipping on their robes, and Robert goes to the door.)


                                                                                                                                              I-29.

 

 

   HENRY:   Well, I'm here under protest, I want you to know that.

 

   ROBERT:   Duly noted.

 

(He opens the door. Leonora enters. Her dress is torn, she's disheveled.)

 

   ROBERT:   What happened?

 

   LEONORA:   Oskar doesn't like being stood up.

 

   ROBERT:   Are you all right?

 

   LEONORA:   I feel stupid not making him pay. Look at my dress.

 

   ROBERT:   Come on, you'd better lie down.

 

(He escorts her to the bed.)

 

   LEONORA:   I think he was jealous.

 

   ROBERT:   That makes it my fault.

 

   LEONORA:   No, I didn't mean it like that.

 

   ROBERT:   Wait'll I get ahold of him--

 

   LEONORA:   I don't want more trouble. Just promise me you won't let him in here.

 

   ROBERT:   Of course, I won't.

 

(With his back to the audience, Henry slings open his robe, exposing himself to Leonora.)

 

   HENRY:   Give me a professional opinion -- do you see many men better hung than

     I am?

 

   ROBERT:   And so modest.

 

   HENRY:   Keep out of this. I'm asking the lady for her professional opinion.

 

   LEONORA:   You're a horse.

 

(Henry closes his robe and moves away.)

 

   HENRY:   There are more poetic ways of putting it. Unless you two can't get along

     without me, I think I'll take a shower.

 

   ROBERT:   We're not going anywhere.


                                                                                                                                              I-30.

 

 

   HENRY:   I should hope not.

 

(He grabs his clothes and exists.)

 

   LEONORA:   Maybe I'll take a nap.

 

   ROBERT:   You're sure you're feeling okay? I could call a doctor.

 

   LEONORA:   No doctor is necessary.

 

   ROBERT:   Do your customers do this often?

 

   LEONORA:   Some more than others.

 

   ROBERT:   Maybe you should stop doing business with them.

 

   LEONORA:   If I stopped doing business with the weird ones, there'd be no business.

     The professors are more weird than the students but they pay better.

 

   ROBERT:   Maybe you should find other work.

 

   LEONORA:   Please don't say that.

 

   ROBERT:   It's something to consider.

 

   LEONORA:   Whenever I meet someone I like, he always tries to get me to do other

     work. Don't you understand, I'm in business for myself? I have no pimp. The

     University runs a very clean shop. I do this work because it makes me good money.

     Better than doing anything else.

 

   ROBERT:   Money isn't everything.

 

   LEONORA:   You have to have money to say that. Money is everything to me now.

     I'm saving my money to go to America.

 

   ROBERT:   Really? What for?

 

   LEONORA:   Because America is freedom.

 

   ROBERT:   Freedom comes from inside, I think.

 

   LEONORA:   There is much opportunity in America. I am going very soon now. I've

     been planning this for two years.

 

   ROBERT:   You've been "working" that long?

 

   LEONORA:   Ever since I entered the University.


                                                                                                                                              I-31.

 

 

   ROBERT:   You're a very unusual woman.

 

   LEONORA:   Yes, I am.

 

   ROBERT:   You probably will have a bright child.

 

   LEONORA:   With the right father. A genius.

 

(A pause.)

 

   ROBERT:   You look tired.

 

   LEONORA:   Maybe I'll take a nap.

 

   ROBERT:   Good.

 

   LEONORA:   Robert?

 

   ROBERT:   Yes?

 

   LEONORA:   Will I see you in America?

 

   ROBERT:   I don't think so. America is a very big country.

 

   LEONORA:   Where do you live in America?

 

   ROBERT:   In Oregon. It's in the west.

 

   LEONORA:   You don't look like a cowboy.

 

   ROBERT:   There aren't many cowboys in the city.

 

   LEONORA:   I like cowboys in the movies. Maybe I'll come west. Maybe I'll see

     you in America.

 

   ROBERT:   It's a big country.

 

   LEONORA:   It's a big world but I found you in Brussels. Maybe you'll be the father

     of my child. Are you really as smart as Einstein?

 

   ROBERT:   It's hard to say. Goodnight, Leonora.

 

   LEONORA:   Goodnight, Robert. Thank you.

 

(A pause. Leonora falls to sleep as Robert watches her, fascinated.)

 

(Henry enters, showered and dressed.)


                                                                                                                                              I-32.

 

 

   HENRY:   Oh good -- you strangled her on the bed.

 

   ROBERT:   Sshh, she's napping.

 

   HENRY:   I will not shush. What time is it?

 

   ROBERT:   They might be taking a break soon.

 

   HENRY:   Are you going to get dressed?

 

(Robert starts dressing.)

 

   HENRY:   Does Einstein smoke?

 

   ROBERT:   I don't know. Why?

 

   HENRY:   The smokers often gather outside. Of course, we'll have no chance to

     isolate him.

 

   ROBERT:   Our best opportunity is probably this afternoon when they adjourn.

 

   HENRY:   Maybe we should invite him for a drink.

 

   ROBERT:   We could try that first. If he refuses, we'll be more forceful.

 

   HENRY:   You'd think he'd welcome allies.

 

   ROBERT:   Are we allies?

 

   HENRY:   In a manner of speaking. We disagree with Bohr, as he does.

 

   ROBERT:   We still don't make reality any less unsettling.

 

   HENRY:   Well, if Einstein needs reality to be comfortable, he's become senile. He

     started this mess in the first place. Reality was much more comfortable under Newton.

 

(Leonora tosses, making a sound.)

 

   ROBERT:   We're being too loud.

 

   HENRY:   I'm not hushing for a whore.

 

   ROBERT:   She's trying to earn her way to America.

 

   HENRY:   On her back, right.

 

   ROBERT:   She's saving her money. She's quite an enterprising girl actually.


                                                                                                                                              I-33.

 

 

   HENRY:   You didn't give her your address ... ?

 

   ROBERT:   No.

 

   HENRY:   Don't.

 

   ROBERT:   How can you hate women so much? Look at her. She's positively

     innocent looking when she sleeps. Like a delicate flower.

 

   HENRY:   Make me barf.

 

   ROBERT:   That's what the vagina reminds me of, a delicate bud about to flower

     into spring ...

 

   HENRY:   Puke to the nth degree!

 

(There's a knock on the door.)

 

   HENRY:   The word's out that she's in here and all the sadists in Brussels are in the

     hall.

 

   ROBERT:   I doubt it.

 

(He opens the door. EINSTEIN steps in.)

 

   EINSTEIN:   An Oskar someone, a businessman, I forget his full name ... he said

     that you wish to speak with me.

 

   ROBERT:   Professor Einstein?

 

   EINSTEIN:   Yes.

 

   ROBERT:   Come in, sir. Please come in.

 

(Einstein enters. And BLACKOUT. End of Act One.)


                                                                                                                                                34.

 

 

 

                                                               ACT TWO

 

 

1/ A SHORT TIME LATER

 

(AT RISE: Robert and Henry are concluding the thought experiment of the Quantum Cat.

Einstein is listening intently. Leonora is on the bed, doing her nails.)

 

   HENRY:   --a dead cat in one universe!--

 

   ROBERT:   --a live cat in another universe!--

 

   HENRY:   --though when we open the box--

 

   ROBERT:   --we apprehend only one universe--

 

   HENRY:   --and remain ignorant of the other--

 

   ROBERT:   --though the other exists--

 

   HENRY:   --the other is as real as this one--

 

   ROBERT:   --the one we apprehend--

 

   HENRY:   --because the wave function equation is real--

 

   ROBERT:   --its probabilities describe a real universe--

 

   HENRY:   --which can only be a multiple universe--

 

   ROBERT:   --in which all possibilities exist at once--

 

   HENRY:   --simultaneously, in the universe as in the equation--

 

   ROBERT:   --together!

 

(A pause.)

 

   HENRY:   We call it The Oregon Interpretation.

 

   EINSTEIN:   Why is this? You are from Oregon?

 

   ROBERT:   Exactly.

 

   EINSTEIN:   Beautiful place. I went fishing there once.

 

   ROBERT:   In the Pacific?


                                                                                                                                            II-35.

 

 

   EINSTEIN:   No, no -- trout fishing. I don't recall the name of the river, it was a long

     time ago, during my one and only trip to America. I was visiting San Francisco and

     a friend drove me north to Oregon. Somewhere in the center of the state. The

     clearest river I've ever seen.

 

   HENRY:   Did you catch anything?

 

   EINSTEIN:   No, but my companion did quite well. I would have myself, I'm sure,

     but I never baited my hook. We were catching more fish than we needed, and I've

     always thought getting a bite interrupted the serenity of being on the river. So I

     picked a spot out on a rock, off by myself, and had a wonderful afternoon, very

     peaceful, dragging my line in the river, while my companions waded around me,

     hauling in fish. They still tell the story of how everyone caught their limit except

     me, who didn't even get a bite. They regard me as quite the bad luck fisherman. I

     never told them I hadn't baited my hook. The fact of the matter is, that afternoon I

     came across an insight that led eventually, when I was back in Europe, to my theory

     of gravity. So perhaps I wasn't such a bad fisherman after all.

 

   ROBERT:   A fisherman of truth, as we are.

 

   EINSTEIN:   It's a very interesting interpretation you give to the wave function.

     Considerably more imaginative than Bohr's interpretation.

 

   HENRY:   More imaginative -- and more true.

 

   EINSTEIN:   Well, it's much too early to know what is true and what isn't. The

     dialogue about the meaning of quantum mechanics has just begun.

 

   HENRY:   Truth is not a function of time but of insight.

 

   EINSTEIN:   Of both, I think. Well, I'd best get back to the conference.

 

(Henry moves to block his exit.)

 

   HENRY:   Now wait a minute--

 

   ROBERT:   Calm down, Henry. I'm sure the professor will listen to reason.

 

   EINSTEIN:   Of course -- if you have something reasonable to say.

 

   ROBERT:   We were hoping you'd consider our hypothesis with as much seriousness

     as we've had formulating it.

 

   EINSTEIN:   I'll grant you it's imaginative -- the wave function does formulate

     different actualities, with probabilities for each, and if each probability is taken as

     its own reality, then it does make a certain amount of sense to ask, if it's real, then

     where is it? And if it's not here, then where? And so you reply, Over there, in

     another universe. Do I understand the argument?


                                                                                                                                            II-36.

 

 

   ROBERT:   That's quite a succinct summary of it.

 

   HENRY:   We accept the wave function equation at face-value: we say, This is the

     formula and it works. But what does it mean? It can only mean all probabilities have

     their own reality -- hence, a variety of real worlds. Multiple universes.

 

   EINSTEIN:   But you forget it's the probabilistic approach that I am arguing against

     in the first place. God does not play dice.

 

   HENRY:   It's not for you to say what God does and does not do.

 

   ROBERT:   Now, Henry -- remember who you're talking to.

 

   HENRY:   An old man locked into old concepts, by the sound of it.

 

   ROBERT:   Please forgive him, professor. Henry's high strung.

 

   EINSTEIN:   It would be interesting to see what Bohr does with your interpretation.

     That could be very amusing. Would you mind if I presented the Oregon

     Interpretation to the conference?

 

   ROBERT:   We'd be honored.

 

   EINSTEIN:   I'd present it just as you presented it to me, as a thought experiment.

     We'd let the delegates decide for themselves.

 

   HENRY:   That would be wonderful, professor.

 

   EINSTEIN:   Then that's what I'll do.

 

   HENRY:   When?

 

   EINSTEIN:   The first chance I get.

 

   ROBERT:   Thank you, Prof. Einstein. That's very kind of you.

 

   EINSTEIN:   Like I said, it's more imaginative than Bohr's interpretation. The

     conference should have fun with it.

 

(He starts for the door.)

 

   LEONORA:   Before you go! -- can I have your autograph?

 

   HENRY:   Don't mind her. She's a street woman, if you know what I mean.

 

   EINSTEIN:   Really?

 

   ROBERT:   She's a University student. She collects the autographs of famous people.


                                                                                                                                            II-37.

 

 

   EINSTEIN:   I'd be happy to give her my autograph.

 

(He approaches the bed.)

 

   EINSTEIN:   You collect autographs, do you?

 

   LEONORA:   Yes.

 

   EINSTEIN:   Even of physicists?

 

   LEONORA:   Especially of physicists.

 

   EINSTEIN:   How strange.

 

   LEONORA:   History is being made across the street, with so many famous

     physicists gathered in one place.

 

   EINSTEIN:   True, you can't find more famous scientists than you'll find across the

     street right now. How'd you like the autographs of a few dozen of the most important

     physicists of our time?

 

   LEONORA:   You mean, of everyone over there?

 

   EINSTEIN:   Well, I can't promise that -- but quite a few would be willing, I'm sure.

 

   LEONORA:   That would be great!

 

   EINSTEIN:   No sooner said than done.

 

   LEONORA:   How can I ever repay you?

 

   EINSTEIN:   Perhaps we can think of something ... this evening, perhaps?

 

   LEONORA:   You mean, you want ...? With me?

 

   EINSTEIN:   I must admit I find you very attractive.

 

   LEONORA:   You don't know how often I've dreamed of this.

 

   HENRY:   Excuse me, but--

 

   ROBERT:   Let them be, Henry. Come on, let's go down for coffee. I'm sure the

     professor can handle his own affairs.

 

   EINSTEIN:   A moment alone would be nice, thank you. I'll bring up The Oregon

     Interpretation at the first session after lunch.

 

   ROBERT:   We really appreciate it.


                                                                                                                                            II-38.

 

 

   LEONORA:   Robert? Will I see you again?

 

   ROBERT:   If you want.

 

   LEONORA:   Of course I do -- I'm not sure when. You know what I have to do.

 

   ROBERT:   Yes, I know. I'll be around whenever you want to see me.

 

   HENRY:   Oh barf!

 

(Robert and Henry exit.)

 

   EINSTEIN:   Say tonight at seven?

 

   LEONORA:   Sure.

 

   EINSTEIN:   Where would we meet?

 

   LEONORA:   In the lobby here?

 

   EINSTEIN:   That would be fine. We could get a room here as well?

 

   LEONORA:   Yes.

 

   EINSTEIN:   How much do you charge?

 

   LEONORA:   Oh, the autographs would be more than enough.

 

   EINSTEIN:   No, I insist. I want you to treat me like anyone else.

 

   LEONORA:   Einstein--! I'm so overwhelmed ...

 

   EINSTEIN:   How much?

 

   LEONORA:   Well, it depends on what you want to do.

 

   EINSTEIN:   I want to watch.

 

   LEONORA:   You mean ... me with someone else?

 

   EINSTEIN:   No, no. Just you. I want to watch you undress.

 

   LEONORA:   That's all?


                                                                                                                                            II-39.

 

 

   EINSTEIN:   There was a girl in my village. I was just fifteen and she was perhaps a

     year older. Our windows faced one another over an alley and at night, on one special

     night and then for perhaps a hundred or more after that, until she moved away, she

     would undress by the window and I would watch. I'm sure she knew I was watching.

     It would usually be on a Friday, when her parents were gone, visiting relatives

     perhaps, and it was as if she would wait to see the light come on in my study, where

     I would be reading, I had my own desk even at fifteen, and then I would see her

     light come on and she would step before the window, in off-light so her body was

     rather like a mirage, or like the mark of my breath on the window pane, and then she

     would slowly begin to undress and I would set aside my book, no matter how

     engrossed I had been in my studies, I would set aside my work to watch her, moving

     in and out of the light, like an apparition, like a dream, and she would begin to

     undress ...

 

(Lights have FADED TO BLACKOUT.)

 

2/ LATE THAT SAME NIGHT

 

(AT RISE: Robert is alone in the hotel room, playing solitaire. Henry enters.)

 

   ROBERT:   Any luck?

 

   HENRY:   Yes and no. The hotel bar's full of physicists, like you thought, but I didn't

     catch a single reference to The Oregon Interpretation. Not once in two hours.

 

   ROBERT:   Is he still with her in the room down the hall?

 

   HENRY:   If he is, they're very quiet. I didn't hear a thing. I didn't knock on the door.

 

   ROBERT:   Good, you shouldn't have.

 

   HENRY:   How long are we supposed to wait?

 

   ROBERT:   He couldn't have mentioned it -- not if there was no talk in the bar

     afterwards. It should've been the main topic of debate.

 

   HENRY:   I say we knock on the door and ask Einstein himself. At least, we'll know

     one way or the other. We can end the waiting and get some sleep.

 

   ROBERT:   No one's keeping you up. You can go to bed whenever you want to.

 

   HENRY:   Who can sleep without knowing?

 

(A pause.)

 

   HENRY:   I'm going to knock on the door.

 

   ROBERT:   Maybe they're asleep. Maybe he bought her for the entire night.


                                                                                                                                            II-40.

 

 

   HENRY:   We'll find out soon enough. I'll be right back.

 

   ROBERT:   Henry--!

 

(Henry exits. He immediately returns, followed by Oskar.)

 

   OSKAR:   Where's Leonora?

 

   ROBERT:   None of your business.

 

   OSKAR:   I have to speak to her.

 

   ROBERT:   You "spoke" to her this morning, and I didn't like what she looked like

     afterwards.

 

   HENRY:   She's down the hall, with Einstein.

 

   OSKAR:   With Einstein?

 

   HENRY:   Third room on the left.

 

   OSKAR:   I don't understand.

 

   HENRY:   Physicists have genitals, too.

 

   OSKAR:   Third door on the left, you say?

 

   ROBERT:   You shouldn't disturb them.

 

   OSKAR:   I must speak to Leonora at once.

 

(He exits.)

 

   HENRY:   This should prove interesting.

 

   ROBERT:   All of us should leave the poor girl alone. She's just trying to have a

     smart kid and earn her fare to America.

 

   HENRY:   Well, haven't we acquired a conscience all of a sudden? As I recall, it was

     you, Mr. Blueballs, who picked her up in the first place.

 

   ROBERT:   I didn't expect her to become community property.

 

   HENRY:   A whore! Oh, come on now, Robert, are you serious? It's her profession

     to be community property. That's her entire mode of existence, community property.

     Anyone with her price can buy her. That's the central axiom of her fucking, pardon

     the pun, existence.


                                                                                                                                            II-41.

 

 

   ROBERT:   She's earning her way to the states.

 

   HENRY:   She'll never get to the states.

 

   ROBERT:   I believe she will.

 

   HENRY:   You're losing your mind.

 

   ROBERT:   I think I'll run into her again in the states.

 

   HENRY:   You asshole -- you gave her your address!

 

   ROBERT:   I didn't. I just have a hunch.

 

   HENRY:   Well, fuck your hunches.

 

(Oskar enters.)

 

   OSKAR:   The third room on the left is empty.

 

   HENRY:   Then I don't know what to tell you.

 

   OSKAR:   Where else could they be?

 

   HENRY:   Einstein said he was going to get her autographs of as many delegates as

     possible. Is there some place they hang out besides the bar?

 

   OSKAR:   There's a small lounge on the second floor of the hotel. It's for delegates

     and sponsors only.

 

   ROBERT:   Then you can get in.

 

   OSKAR:   Of course.

 

   ROBERT:   But to find Einstein, not Leonora. You've done enough to her already.

 

   OSKAR:   What are you talking about?

 

   ROBERT:   You know very well what I'm talking about. You're not beating her up

     any more, not while I'm around.

 

   OSKAR:   She said I beat her up?

 

   HENRY:   Before you two come to blows, can we get down to more important

     matters and find Einstein?

 

   OSKAR:   They won't let you two in the lounge. You have to be a delegate or sponsor.

     I couldn't even get in without my wig -- it's the dress code today.


                                                                                                                                            II-42.

 

 

   ROBERT:   Then you can fetch Einstein for us.

 

   OSKAR:   I insist on seeing Leonora.

 

   ROBERT:   Over my dead body.

 

   HENRY:   Our business is with Einstein! Just go with him, Robert.

 

   OSKAR:   (to Robert) I didn't beat her. You have no reason to be upset.

 

   HENRY:   Go!

 

(Henry shoves them out the door.)

 

(Henry goes to the bed and collapses on it.)

 

3/ A MOMENT LATER

 

(There is a knock on the door. Henry answers it. It's Einstein, who enters.)

 

   EINSTEIN:   (speaking quickly) Statistics are only valid in the long run, you see,

     and this is your error. When I flip a coin to heads or tails, whatever alternative I get,

     the opposite one does not occur in another universe. This is not what we mean by a

     fifty-fifty chance of one alternative or another, a heads or a tails, occurring with any

     single flip of the coin. What we mean is, given a great number of flips, heads and

     tails will appear in equal numbers. To flip one million heads in succession is not

     impossible, only highly unlikely. We do not need to hypothesize the creation of

     alternative universes to justify the existence of both a live Quantum Cat and a dead

     Quantum Cat within the mathematical parameters of the wave function. We need

     only to repeat the experiment a great number of times in order to find an equal

     number of dead cats and live cats.

 

   HENRY:   You miss the point completely. You ignore quantum mechanics' insight

     that the observer participates in the result of the experiment. There is no cat at all,

     either dead or alive, until we open the box to see what has happened. There is only

     the probability function.

 

   EINSTEIN:   There is no cat in the box until we look inside? That's absurd.

 

   HENRY:   It's the only conclusion consistent with the findings of quantum mechanics.

     If I may say so, Prof. Einstein, you're sounding like a senile old fuddy-dud.

 

   EINSTEIN:   Senile, perhaps. I had a terrible time with the girl.

 

   HENRY:   Where is she?

 

   EINSTEIN:   Disappointed, I expect.


                                                                                                                                            II-43.

 

 

   HENRY:   You couldn't ... ?

 

   EINSTEIN:   Exactly. Perhaps I was distracted by all this damn Quantum Cat

     business, and Principles of Indeterminacy and the Participatory Observer ... what is

     the universe coming to?

 

   HENRY:   The universes are coming to all things that are possible.

 

   EINSTEIN:   This universe is getting crazier all the time. Schrodinger told me that if

     he'd known where all this was leading to, he'd never have developed his damn wave

     function equations. I don't blame him.

 

   HENRY:   I'm surprised at you. The Oregon Interpretation is no less revolutionary

     than your own relativity theories were two decades ago.

 

   EINSTEIN:   Revolution belongs to the young.

 

   HENRY:   I'm sorry to hear you say that, professor. We came here expecting to find

     you an ally, once you understood the theory.

 

   EINSTEIN:   Confusion belongs to the old.

 

   HENRY:   You're not that old.

 

   EINSTEIN:   Old enough not to get it up. That's never happened to me before. I don't

     know what went wrong. She undressed, just as I asked her to. But she didn't arouse

     me, my thoughts were off somewhere, lost in a maze of theoretical physics. Sex has

     always been such a relief from thinking. I can't imagine losing it.

 

   HENRY:   I'm sure it's not a permanent affliction.

 

   EINSTEIN:   I hope not. Sex and playing the violin have kept me going.

 

   HENRY:   I play the bongos.

 

   EINSTEIN:   Every physicist needs relief from thinking.

 

   HENRY:   Robert chases women.

 

   EINSTEIN:   The most common escape, I think.

 

   HENRY:   Women fascinate him.

 

   EINSTEIN:   I can understand that.

 

   HENRY:   Don't you find women -- particularly dumb?

 

   EINSTEIN:   It's all a matter of social training, I think.


                                                                                                                                            II-44.

 

 

   HENRY:   I think they are biologically dumb.

 

   EINSTEIN:   Then how do you explain Marie Curie?

 

   HENRY:   I hear she takes male hormones.

 

   EINSTEIN:   I never heard that.

 

   HENRY:   Every species has its mutants. Women with brains are mutants.

 

   EINSTEIN:   Don't sell women short. They reproduce the race.

 

   HENRY:   Men need wombs, not women. When technology gives us the artificial

     womb, we'll reproduce by squirting our sperm and coming back in nine months. No

     muss, no fuss.

 

   EINSTEIN:   We're a long way from artificial wombs, I think.

 

   HENRY:   Twenty years ago we were a long way from quantum mechanics. And

     look at us now. The universe has been stood on its head.

 

   EINSTEIN:   God does not play dice.

 

   HENRY:   He gives us all possible worlds at the same time.

 

   EINSTEIN:   But what does this really mean? What is the meaning of moral action

     if any action includes its opposite somewhere in another universe?

 

   HENRY:   The very issues the Solvay Conference should be talking about! Society

     always turns to physics for its models of behavior. What is our educational system,

     what is banking, what is food distribution and transportation and the way we

     organize our job market, if not a direct consequence of the Newtonian universe? We

     didn't run the world the way we do today in the Middle Ages, before Newton.

     Newton revolutionized physics, yes, but the social consequences of his mode of

     thought has had more direct influence on the way we live from day to day in the

     world than anything else. So what's to happen now, when quantum mechanics shows

     us that Newton is wrong -- or more accurately, that his theories cover only a small

     special case -- what's to happen when the mode of thinking that gives us quantum

     mechanics is applied to the meaning of money, education, child rearing, food

     distribution -- the list is as long as everything we do in our lives! What's to happen

     to the world once it recognizes a new vision of reality?

 

   EINSTEIN:   By then, I hope -- if all this you say comes to pass -- I hope I am dead.

 

(Einstein starts for the door.)

 

   HENRY:   Where are you going?


                                                                                                                                            II-45.

 

 

   EINSTEIN:   I'm so depressed, I think I'll try to masturbate.

 

(He exits. BLACKOUT.)

 

4/ AN HOUR LATER

 

(AT RISE: Henry is in bed, asleep. The door opens, and Robert and Leonora enter. Robert

is carrying a bottle of champagne. They are tipsy.)

 

   ROBERT:   Sssssshhhhh ...

 

   LEONORA:   Sshh!

 

   ROBERT:   He's sleeping ...

 

   LEONORA:   Sshh!

 

(Robert goes to a chair and Leonora will sit on his lap.)

 

   ROBERT:   Come here ...

 

   LEONORA:   Sshh, sshh, sshh!

 

   ROBERT:   We have to be very quiet.

 

   LEONORA:   Ssssssssssshhhhhhhhhh--

 

(Robert puts a finger to her lips.)

 

   ROBERT:   Very, very quiet -- even more quiet than "sshh." Okay?

 

(Leonora nods, yes.)

 

   ROBERT:   If you're quiet, I'll tell you a story. Okay?

 

(Nods, yes.)

 

   ROBERT:   Shall I tell you about America?

 

(She shakes her head, no.)

 

   ROBERT:   About my home in Oregon?

 

(No.)

 

   ROBERT:   About physics?

 

(Yes.)


                                                                                                                                            II-46.

 

 

   ROBERT:   What about physics? About what I was telling you the other night?

 

(Leonora nods enthusiastically, yes.)

 

   ROBERT:   Then where were we? I told you about how nothing is absolutely real,

     we only believe things are "real" because our theories tell us they are real.

 

(Nods, yes.)

 

   ROBERT:   And today, in the world you and I and everyone else lives in, reality is a

     consequence of a logical pattern of thought perfected two-hundred years ago by Sir

     Isaac Newton, the most famous scientist of his time.

 

(Yes.)

 

   ROBERT:   Newton told us that "reality" is "out there." That the universe exists.

     That this chair we're sitting in exists. We have nothing to do with it. We can observe

     it or not, as we wish. It has nothing to do with the chair. We are neutral observers.

     And that's the way the world is run, like this place that just exists and we, as human

     beings, don't have very much to do with it, unless we want to think logically and

     proceed logically and change it in some way to help ourselves live more

     comfortably -- but if we were all to fly to Mars, the world would be left behind,

     because it's just there and has very little to do with us.

 

(Yes.)

 

   ROBERT:   Well, Leonora, the thing is, in the past few years the Newtonian universe

     has been blown sky-high because none of Newton's laws work when we look deep

     inside the atom. A whole new universe reveals itself when we look at the way the

     smallest things are put together and behave. And we find that the universe has

     everything to do with us -- because the universe doesn't even exist, in fact, unless

     we are there to look at it!

 

(Leonora's hand makes a circle at her temple, the gesture of "this is crazy!")

 

   ROBERT:   It sounds crazy, doesn't it? But that's what experiments are telling us --

     when a physicist observes something, the way he observes it determines what he is

     going to see. And if he chooses not to observe it at all, then there's no guarantee the

     things is even there! Now imagine what this means to the world. You and I walk out

     of this room, and Henry may disappear. He may not exist any more! He may come

     in and out of existence, only as people observe him. Or maybe he can observe

     himself, while we're gone, and exist in is own universe but not in ours. This all

     sounds very scary, doesn't it?

 

(As Leonora shakes her head, yes, Henry rolls over and sits up, unnoticed by the others for

a moment.)


                                                                                                                                            II-47.

 

 

   ROBERT:   It's as if all these different universes, yours and mine and everyone else's,

     existed simultaneously and kept over-lapping, my universe over-lapping with yours

     now and yours with mine, but each changing, forever changing, just as "reality" --

     put in quotation marks -- keeps changing. Nothing is really real, nothing is

     permanent, nothing is stable, nothing is as it used to be.

 

(Henry grabs his robe and gets up.)

 

   HENRY:   Except you, Robert. You're exactly as you used to be. You haven't

     changed at all.

 

   ROBERT:   Want some champagne?

 

   HENRY:   No. And I wish you'd stay sober. We have some thinking to do.

 

   ROBERT:   Champagne never hurt my thinking, Henry.

 

   HENRY:   Einstein came by. He doesn't even comprehend the argument! He gave a

     rebuttal that was straight out of classical physics. I think he's becoming senile.

 

   ROBERT:   He's too young to be senile.

 

   LEONORA:   He couldn't do it with me.

 

   HENRY:   Mentally senile, is what matters. You should have heard him. He tried to

     make an analogy between statistics in quantum physics and flipping coins.

 

   ROBERT:   Did he tell you, "God does not play dice."

 

   HENRY:   Naturally.

 

   ROBERT:   Maybe he's become a Christian. Today it would be difficult to be a

     physicist and a Christian at the same time.

 

   HENRY:   Einstein is hopeless, which means this entire trip is hopeless, nothing at

     all has been accomplished, except of course you've no doubt found the love of your

     life, in which case I find myself a tiny bit in the way here and actually I feel like

     puking in the face of so much romantic sweetness and light, so if you'll excuse me--

 

(Oskar bursts in. He is wearing his Einstein disguise.)

 

   OSKAR:   Leonora! I must talk to you.

 

   LEONORA:   Dear professor, don't worry about it. It happens to men all the time.

 

   OSKAR:   What?

 

   LEONORA:   You'd be surprised at how many men can't get it up.


                                                                                                                                            II-48.

 

 

   OSKAR:   This is Oskar, damn it! I can always get it up.

 

   LEONORA:   I'm not talking to you any more.

 

   OSKAR:   Tell him the truth.

 

   LEONORA:   I'm not talking to you!

 

   OSKAR:   I'm not leaving until you--

 

   ROBERT:   She said she has nothing to say to you.

 

   OSKAR:   (to Leonora) The truth will set you free!

 

   ROBERT:   I think you should go.

 

   OSKAR:   I'm not leaving until you tell him.

 

(Robert approaches Oskar, to escort him out.)

 

   OSKAR:   Get your hands off me! Leonora!

 

   ROBERT:   Leave her alone, Oskar.

 

   OSKAR:   You think you're man enough to remove me?

 

   ROBERT:   Henry, you want to help me here ... ?

 

   HENRY:   Why, not at all, I'd just love to see two grown men fight over a street whore.

 

   OSKAR:   I'm not budging!

 

(Pause. Robert is not sure what to do. Finally he tries to get Oskar in a bear hug but is

easily stopped. Oskar gets him in a bear hug instead.)

 

   HENRY:   Robert, my dear, I thought you were going to throw him out.

 

   ROBERT:   Get him off me! Henry, please!

 

(They struggle, Oskar in control.)

 

   LEONORA:   Oskar, stop it! You're hurting him!

 

   OSKAR:   Tell him the truth!

 

   LEONORA:   Please--!

 

   OSKAR:   Tell him!


                                                                                                                                            II-49.

 

 

   LEONORA:   Let him go! I'll tell him!

 

   OSKAR:   Tell him first!

 

   ROBERT:   I can't breathe ...

 

   OSKAR:   Tell him!

 

   LEONORA:   Oskar didn't beat me!

 

   OSKAR:   The whole truth!

 

   LEONORA:   I tore my clothes myself! You didn't beat me!

 

   OSKAR:   Why!?

 

   LEONORA:   I wanted him to think you beat me.

 

(Oskar lets Robert go. Robert staggers away, getting his breath. Pause.)

 

   HENRY:   Brussels gets kinkier all the time. I love it.

 

   OSKAR:   (to Robert) Did you hear what she said? Now tell him why you wanted

     him to think I beat you.

 

(Pause.)

 

   OSKAR:   Tell me!

 

   LEONORA:   Please don't make me.

 

   OSKAR:   I can squish him like a cockroach.1

 

   HENRY:   Oh, I like that! Who cares if it's a useless trip, Robert, when it's getting so

     kinky?

 

   OSKAR:   Tell him all of it. The truth about today. Why was it so important that you

     spend time with me today? Tell him!

 

   LEONORA:   Because I was frustrated--

 

   OSKAR:   Why were you frustrated?

 

   LEONORA:   I hadn't been satisfied ...

 

   OSKAR:   Why? Who hadn't satisfied you?

 

   LEONORA:   He hadn't ...


                                                                                                                                            II-50.

 

 

   OSKAR:   Who?

 

   LEONORA:   Robert! Robert hadn't satisfied me ...

 

(A pause.)

 

   HENRY:   Leonora, I owe you an apology. That was an Academy Award performance

     this morning. Wasn't it, Robert? Women are so natural when they fake an orgasm.

     Like a budding flower, isn't that the image, Robert? The female orgasm is so

     spontaneous, so mysterious, why women must be in another world during sex, in

     another realm, in another dimension, in another universe, the way they get off, just

     one cosmic rolling ocean of pleasure after another, why it makes us men look like

     real mouse farts, it just--

 

   ROBERT:   All right! You made your point.

 

   HENRY:   A baby conceived during an orgasm like that--

 

   ROBERT:   Just forget it! Just shut up.

 

(A pause.)

 

   LEONORA:   Robert, I'm sorry. I went to bed with you because you said you were a

     genius and I didn't know if I'd get to meet Einstein or not and ... well, I'm sorry.

 

   ROBERT:   Forget it.

 

   LEONORA:   I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. I thought if you thought he beat

     me, maybe you wouldn't let him come around again and you wouldn't find out. I

     wanted you to think I was satisfied with you, I know how important that is to a man.

     I wanted--

 

   ROBERT:   Forget it!

 

(A pause.)

 

   OSKAR:   The steak tartar last night was quite good. If you're hungry, you might

     want to order it tonight. Unless you've already eaten.

 

   LEONORA:   I haven't eaten.

 

   OSKAR:   Then shall we?

 

   LEONORA:   Maybe I will still have your baby, Robert. Maybe I'll come to America

     with your baby.

 

   OSKAR:   Leonora ...


                                                                                                                                            II-51.

 

 

   LEONORA:   Goodbye, Robert. It was very good, mentally, knowing you might be

     giving me a smart baby.

 

   ROBERT:   Just get the fuck out of here!

 

   LEONORA:   Robert, please don't--

 

   ROBERT:   Out!

 

(Oskar escorts Leonora out. A pause.)

 

   HENRY:   I wonder what she's name it. Cosmic Orgasm? Vaginal Flower? Intuitive

     Energy? Tiny God?

 

   ROBERT:   I don't think she was faking it.

 

   HENRY:   Come on, Romeo, they're always faking it. Theatricality's their middle

     name. Female orgasm, thy name is innuendo.

 

   ROBERT:   And so what, if she was faking it?

 

   HENRY:   Nothing at all. You spent lord knows what in order to watch a street

     whore--

 

   ROBERT:   A University student.

 

   HENRY:   --a whore wax in a phony epileptic erotic fit so you could wax poetic

     about the bullshit cosmic qualities of female sexuality. Robert, spare me! You are

     losing your mind.

 

   ROBERT:   I thought she really liked the way I made love.

 

   HENRY:   Remember the whore in L.A. that time?

 

   ROBERT:   What whore in L.A.?

 

   HENRY:   The mute. Only you didn't know she couldn't talk until you fucked her.

     She kept gesturing, sshh, and leading you into her hotel, up the stairs and to her

     room, into bed, and you'd screwed her before you found out she was a mute. I found

     you on the street, white as a ghost, babbling, "Henry, I made love to a mute only I

     didn't know it until after it was over."

 

   ROBERT:   So?

 

   HENRY:   So you didn't find out until afterwards, asshole, it means some very basic

     communication was missing in the interim. So this isn't the first time you've been

     deceived. Prick, thy name is gullible.


                                                                                                                                            II-52.

 

 

   ROBERT:   I didn't mind her not talking. Until the end. She seemed to orgasm, she

     shivered under my tongue, but she didn't make a sound. She was so quiet afterwards,

     the whole room was quiet. Finally I asked, "Was it good for you?" And she started

     making this crazy noise, like grunting, like some perverse vocal energy without

     form, like the Quantum Cat before we look at it perhaps -- at first I thought she was

     mocking me. I swear to God, Henry, she kept grunting at me and only when I saw

     that there were tears in her eyes, that she was weeping, did it occur to me that maybe

     it had been good for her only she had no ability to say so. She was mute. Which

     proved to be the case. She wasn't mocking me, Henry, she was thanking me. I hope

     she was thanking me. Do you think she was?

 

   HENRY:   When I found you later, on the street, you were white as a ghost.

 

   ROBERT:   The loss of language terrifies me.

 

(A pause.)

 

   HENRY:   Leonora was using you. She was mocking you.

 

(A pause.)

 

   HENRY:   I don't play games with you, Robert.

 

   ROBERT:   No, you don't.

 

   HENRY:   Hug me.

 

(They embrace. A beat. And HERMANN enters the room, disguised as Einstein. He is a

little drunk and carries an open whiskey bottle.)

 

   HERMANN:   I give you a toast ... I give you a wake in memory of the Universe ...

 

   ROBERT:   Prof. Einstein?

 

   HERMANN:   Brussels has gone crazy. And the situation is hopeless. The watch of

     the universe has been smashed. It'll never run the same again. Relativity started it:

     that damn theory gave physicists the nerve to go forward in strange new directions,

     going wherever the mind's fancy might logically and intuitively take it ... even deep,

     very deep and deeper still, into the atom itself, and into, deep and deeper into, the

     particles of the atom itself, in order to find what's really really real, really there,

     what's what and all that, what's the stuff we have to start with to get all the other

     stuff -- you know what I'm saying? First it's all relative, everything's relative, but

     that ain't enough, not for Bohr and Heisenberg and Schrodinger and the rest, oh no,

     relative ain't enough ... everything is problematical instead, and everything is

     indeterminate, and everything is goddamn confusing, like that goddamn cat in the

     box that everyone is arguing about -- you know what I'm saying?

 

(They just stare at him.)


                                                                                                                                            II-53.

 

 

   HERMANN:   Want a drink?

 

(Robert and Henry move forward, and they begin to pass the bottle, drinking.)

 

   HERMANN:   It's a good time to be a young physicist. How old are you?

 

   ROBERT:   Eighteen.

 

   HENRY:   Twenty.

 

   HERMANN:   A good time to be young. Revolution belongs to the young.

 

   ROBERT:   You're still the champ, professor.

 

   HERMANN:   Professor?

 

   ROBERT:   All around the world, they know you're the champ.

 

   HENRY:   You laid the foundation for everything.

 

   HERMANN:   You know what I agree with? "God does not play dice."

 

   HENRY:   But we do, professor.

 

   HERMANN:   What?

 

   HENRY:   Humans play dice. And that's why Bohr is wrong and you are right.

 

   HERMANN:   I am?

 

   HENRY:   In a sense, yes.

 

   ROBERT:   What Henry means, professor, is that Bohr doesn't take his own logic far

     enough. He says the universe is indeterminate -- and stops. He doesn't ask himself,

     How are we to live in such a place?

 

   HERMANN:   Stay drunk, if you ask me.

 

   ROBERT:   What's to be done in a universe where nothing is really real and

     neutrality is impossible and the observer defines the observed?

 

   HERMANN:   What's to be done?

 

   ROBERT:   What's to be done?

 

(A pause.)

 

   HENRY:   (softly) Nothing.


                                                                                                                                            II-54.

 

 

(A pause.)

 

   HERMANN:   What did you say?

 

   HENRY:   Nothing.

 

   ROBERT:   Nothing's to be done.

 

   HERMANN:   Nothing? How can nothing be done? That's absurd. Nothing can't be

     done. Something is done, always, isn't it? I drink whiskey now. Soon I will puke in

     the toilet. Tomorrow I'll have a hangover.

 

(A pause.)

 

   HERMANN:   We have to do something.

 

(In the sequence below, Robert and Henry will gently "court" "Einstein," touching him,

caressing his shoulders, gently rubbing his forehead, soothing him, all very sensual.)

 

   HERMANN:   Even a Buddhist monk, for all his contemplation, does something. He

     passes water. He breathes.

 

   HENRY:   Yes.

 

   HERMANN:   So it's not a question of nothing being done. It's a question of how to

     do something.

 

   HENRY:   Yes.

 

   ROBERT:   Yes.

 

   HERMANN:   It's a question of the proper way to do something, anything. If the

     universe is indeterminate, if nothing is really real, then it's a question of how to do

     anything at all, how to do something correctly under the lens of indeterminism,

     which would suggest that nothing -- nothing worthwhile -- can be done at all.

 

   ROBERT:   Yes.

 

   HERMANN:   It's a question of how to do something at all.

 

   HENRY:   Yes.

 

   HERMANN:   Something worthwhile, something that matters.

 

   HENRY:   Yes.

 

   ROBERT:   Yes.


                                                                                                                                            II-55.

 

 

   HERMANN:   Against all evidence to the contrary, in an indeterminate universe,

     how to do something that matters.

 

   ROBERT:   Yes.

 

(A pause.)

 

   HERMANN:   How?

 

   HENRY:   Carefully.

 

   ROBERT:   Very--

 

   HENRY:   Very very--

 

   ROBERT:   Very--

 

   HENRY:   V e r y   c a r e f u l l y ...

 

(As they caress "Einstein," Hermann's wig falls off.)

 

   HENRY:   What the hell?

 

   ROBERT:   Who are you?

 

   HERMANN:   Hermann. Oskar told me all about you. Brussels has become very

     strange this week, no? So many businessmen wearing wigs, trying to look like

     Einstein, all the physicists destroying the universe ... I once fancied myself a

     physicist. But I don't understand any of this.

 

(He drinks.)

 

   HENRY:   ("let's get out of here") Robert?

 

   HERMANN:   Oskar says you two are pretty kinky.

 

   HENRY:   If you'll excuse us ... Robert!

 

   ROBERT:   I know, Henry. I know ...

 

   HERMANN:   Is something the matter?

 

(Robert and Henry join hands and slowly back away from Hermann toward the door, as

the LIGHTS FADE TO BLACKOUT. The play is over.)