war E X T R A C T * |
ACT ONE LATE AFTERNOON. THE SETTING SUN ILLUMINATES THE TREES BEYOND THE BAY WINDOW. EDWARD SITS DOING NOTHING, JUST WAITING. HE LOOKS AT HIS WATCH. WAITS. A LONG SILENCE. THE DOOR BELL RINGS. HE HESITATES. GOES TO THE DOOR AND OPENS IT. SOPHIE STANDS THERE SILHOUETTED AGAINST THE HALL LIGHT. THEY LOOK AT EACH OTHER FOR A LONG MOMENT. FINALLY SHE CROSSES THE THRESHOLD AND THEY STAND FACE TO FACE. SHE SUDDENLY SLAPS HIM HARD ACROSS THE CHEEK. HE BARELY REACTS. SHE WALKS INTO THE ROOM, LOOKS AROUND. GOES TO THE WINDOW AND LOOKS OUT. NOTHING IS SAID. SHE TAKES OFF HER COAT AND PUTS IT DOWN. HE GOES TO THE DRINKS, POURS A VODKA AND TONIC. BRINGS IT TO HER. SHE TAKES IT. WHEN HIS BACK IS TURNED SHE CHECKS THE GLASS AGAINST THE LIGHT. CLEANS THE RIM SURREPTITIOUSLY. WHEN SHE REALISES HE IS GETTING NOTHING FOR HIMSELF SHE DRINKS AND TURNS BACK TO THE WINDOW. HE SITS AGAIN AND WAITS FOR HER TO SPEAK. SOPHIE: You should have told me there was a bus. EDWARD: Why? SOPHIE: I don't like driving these days. EDWARD: I'd have come to you. SOPHIE: Oh no. EDWARD: What did you do that for? SOPHIE: What? EDWARD: Hit me. SOPHIE: Felt like it. (SHE LOOKS AROUND THE ROOM AGAIN, MORE THOROUGHLY THIS TIME.) Extraordinary. EDWARD: What? SOPHIE: So.... different. EDWARD: To what? SOPHIE: You. The way you were. Apart from the mess, that is. EDWARD: I am. SOPHIE: (LOOKING AT HIM) Are you? EDWARD: Yes. SOPHIE: I doubt it. EDWARD: Why? SOPHIE: People don't. You don't. EDWARD: Change? (INDICATING THE ROOM) You just said I had. SOPHIE: It must be bachelor... dom... hood. Whatever you call it. EDWARD: Probably. SOPHIE: You used to say, if we abolished relationships the world might be quite a nice place. EDWARD: Did I? Probably true. (PAUSE) This woman goes to her vicar and says, 'Vicar, I think my husband is trying to poison me.' The vicar says, 'Are you sure? I'll go and talk to him.' So next day she sees the vicar again, and says, 'Did you see him?' He says, 'Yes. I talked to him for three hours. If I were you I'd take the poison.' SOPHIE: No, you don't change. (PAUSE) I've heard that joke. Only it was about a man who goes to his rabbi about his wife. EDWARD: I thought you'd like it better my way. SOPHIE: I don't like it. I don't like jokes. EDWARD: You don't change. (SHE WANDERS, LOOKING AT HIS BOOKS.) SOPHIE: So many books. So much knowledge. Have you got any further? EDWARD: With what? SOPHIE: (VAGUELY) Your quest. Your.... search for whatever it is. EDWARD: Little by little. SOPHIE: So what has it told you? Anything definitive? EDWARD: Oh yes. SOPHIE: Well? EDWARD: That the search goes on. And on. (SHE GIVES AN IRONIC SIGH AND SHAKES HER HEAD.) There's an intriguing puzzle which the ancient Greek mathematicians were aware of. What is the minimum number of guests you have to invite to your house in order to ensure either that at least three people know each other, or that at least three are strangers? (BREAKS OFF) You still do that. I don't believe it - you still do that! SOPHIE: What? EDWARD: That pursed lips thing you do when people are talking. Do you know how distracting that is? SOPHIE: I don't do it with people. EDWARD: Oh. It's just me who bores you... already. Let's forget the puzzles then. What shall we talk about? Is theology still your thing? SOPHIE: No - go on. I'm sorry, I want to hear. EDWARD: Evidently not. SOPHIE: No, really. It's interesting. EDWARD: It is actually, but like most people you switch off the moment you hear the word mathematics, because you assume it will have no relevance for you. SOPHIE: Sorry - go on. EDWARD: The answer is six. Which sounds simple enough, until you are told that amongst those six people there are over thirty thousand possible combinations of acquaintanceship. SOPHIE: So? EDWARD: Now, suppose we extend the problem to finding the least number of guests which will contain four who are either mutual strangers or acquaintances. The answer, which was never discovered until the last century, is eighteen. Amongst whom the combinations of association run into many millions. SOPHIE: Some party. EDWARD: Then extend the number required to five, and nobody, not even the most powerful computer existing, has yet been able to work out the answer. SOPHIE: Does that enlighten you in any way? EDWARD: Now replace the guests with inhabitable planets in the universe - of which the odds are there are millions - and you understand still further the significance. SHE: Well significant, I suppose so. Some poor sod spends months of his life working out how many little green men at a party may or may not have met before, and what will he have to show for it? His name in some obscure maths books? Wouldn't he have done better to have spent those months gardening, or painting, or fornicating? Shouldn't he have spent them living? EDWARD: There are billions to do the living. Very few to do the discovering. SOPHIE: (HOLDING OUT HER GLASS) Can I have another drink, and then we'll talk about.... (SHE DOESN'T FINISH) (HE TAKES HER GLASS AND POURS HER A DRINK. HOLDS IT OUT TO HER) Are you still on the wagon? EDWARD: Yes. SOPHIE: I'm impressed. EDWARD: Well that's something. SOPHIE: Oh, you always impressed me. Just never... never.... EDWARD: Convinced you. SOPHIE: (NODDING) That'll do. EDWARD: You look good. SOPHIE: Good? EDWARD: Yes. In trim. Sexy. SOPHIE: What did you expect - a wreck? EDWARD: No, but.... SOPHIE: But what? EDWARD: (SHRUGGING) Five years.... SOPHIE: And another broken marriage? EDWARD: Well, yes. SOPHIE: He wasn't as good at demolishing me as you were. EDWARD: I never demolished you. SOPHIE: Oh yes.... EDWARD: So then why....? SOPHIE: What? EDWARD: If he didn't demolish you, why....? SOPHIE: Break up? EDWARD: Yes. SOPHIE: I demolished him. (HE THINKS ABOUT THAT) EDWARD: You? SOPHIE: Yes. There are different ways of demolishing. EDWARD: Is he still demolished? SOPHIE: (WITH GREAT SADNESS) Yes. (SHE HAS TO STIFLE TEARS) EDWARD: I'm sorry. SOPHIE: No, you're not. EDWARD: I am. I'm really sorry. He seemed.... SOPHIE: What? EDWARD: Right for you. SOPHIE: He was. He would have been. (COLLECTING HERSELF) Anyway.... (PAUSE) EDWARD: There was this man, who'd been married five times.... SOPHIE: Don't. Please don't. EDWARD: This isn't a joke. SOPHIE: Still don't. EDWARD: And his analyst said, why do
you keep doing it? And he said, because
I'm getting better at it…. * |
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