GLORIA Can we go on? IAN Why not?...

GLORIA Can we go on?

IAN Why not? This is the most interesting conversation I've ever had with myself.

GLORIA We were talking about a contradiction.

IAN Which one? My life is full of them.

GLORIA Do you think the whole universe evolved and supports life for nothing?

IAN Then what does it do it for, recreation?

GLORIA No. For the space between birth and death.

IAN Come on. It's too brief to give a damn about. We each rise up out of a genetic hole that goes clear back to the first higher molecule, run across a crowded and confused field in the darkness with explosions going off all around us, and then, quite unexpectedly, step right off a cliff into a second oblivion -- and all too soon, much, much too soon.

GLORIA I hope we planned better than that.

IAN We planned? Come on, Gloria, get real. Excuse me, I forgot. You can't do that.

GLORIA I can if I want to.

IAN You can?

GLORIA Of course. But not now. I want to know, when you think of the universe whirling around, and the earth flying through it, don't you think every moment of life is a miracle?

IAN Or a nightmare. Who even knows what to do with it? In fact, many a wise man has said you're only truly happy after you're dead.

GLORIA Really? Have you noticed much laughter coming from the cemetery? Now, think of it, Ian -- eightysix years! And certain bugs only live one day.

IAN Excuse me. I'm not a bug. Even if I do expect to check out at any minute.

GLORIA All the more reason to value every moment. But say you weren't going to?

IAN I might drink a little less.

GLORIA Good. But I expect much more.

IAN What the hell gives you the right to expect anything?

GLORIA Because I have a special calling for you.

IAN I can't wait to hear this. What is my alcohol-soaked imagination asking of me now?

GLORIA I want you to become my poet.

IAN Your poet?

GLORIA Yes. The poet of life.

IAN Really? Is that all? I've got to change brands.

GLORIA Change brands?

IAN Of scotch. They're just not making it the way they used to. Now, look here. I haven't written a poem in ten years.

GLORIA Why did you stop? Even one of your high-school English teachers told you you have a way with words, didn't she?

IAN Hey, how do you know? You couldn't have been around then. I didn't drink at the time!

GLORIA I read your file.

IAN Ah, ha! Well, the fact is, once I built my whole life around it -- the music of words. I was wild about it. Totally enchanted.

GLORIA And?

IAN I became Golden Boy, so I could eat. I put away my lyre and put on boxing gloves. Besides, I discovered that, despite my way with words, my mind wasn't aflame with something to say.

GLORIA But now it can be.

IAN I can't wait. With what?

GLORIA The world is full of death and destruction. I desperately need a voice.

IAN You do? And you mean, me?

GLORIA Yes. I want you to break ranks, run out in front of the human race as it marches toward the cliff of oblivion, and say, "Stop! Turn around! Life is in the other direction!"

IAN You want little old me to do that? No, thanks.

GLORIA Why not?

IAN First of all, I'm not sure life is worth saving. I have an excellent case of Kierkegaard's "sickness unto death." Second, there are too many people out there who are absolutely convinced they're right. For them death is the big picture, not life. They'd walk right over me and keep on going.

GLORIA Would they?

IAN "No 'bout a doubt it," as the old line goes. And I'm not up for the challenge. Heroes often come to a bad end. They try to push back the tide of evil, which finally shapes itself into a force that pushes back at them. And evil kills. Fortunately, for villainous souls, good people don't usually return the favor. I was only made to observe such things.

GLORIA And just stand by while --

IAN -- You've got it. Make me a list of happy people who tried to change the world. I was made for a life of scotch and cynicism.

GLORIA I don't think you really understand, Ian. You can recapture the dream of your youth. You can write the poetry of life.

IAN What? Eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow you may die? It's an old story.

GLORIA No, your poems will be new. You will be the first to appreciate the wonder of life from a molecular, anatomical, and cosmic point of view -- to cry out against its destruction and long for its preservation and thoughtful fulfillment.

IAN Sorry, Gloria. I can't identify with the role. I just want to get through life with a little, yes, I'll say it, maybe a little happiness.

GLORIA Who doesn't, Ian? But a few people also aim at greatness.

IAN My dear, I most humbly decline. Stick somebody else with the job.

GLORIA There isn't anybody else.

IAN Who says so?

GLORIA I do. We're stuck with you.

IAN Why is that?

GLORIA We only gave the talent to you.

IAN You've got to be kidding?

GLORIA I wish. So far in this century we gave a special talent to four people to help humans on this planet appreciate life, and three of them did their job.

IAN Really? And who were they?

GLORIA Albert Einstein. Talent: to help you understand the magnificence of the universe. Albert Schweitzer. Talent: to give you two ethical principles we like. One: Reverence for Life. But apparently he got too distracted providing medical care in the jungle to give you the second one.

IAN And what's that, Gloria?

GLORIA Reverence Through Life, to whatever made it.

IAN Wait a minute. This whole tale leaves me out.

GLORIA Why?

IAN Everybody you picked is named Albert.

GLORIA Not true. The third person was Bertrand Russell. Talent: to explain that faith in reason could make the modern world, especially compared with what it is, a paradise.

IAN That's only three. Who's the fourth person? (big realization) Me? Are you kidding? I can't possibly fit in with magnificent people like that. I'm a lowly, drunken screenwriter.

GLORIA No, Ian. You've only become who you are because you mistrusted and killed your real talent. You're supposed to be the one who turns thoughts like theirs into beautiful poetry. But I guess we made a mistake. We didn't give you enough character.

IAN Well, tough luck for all of us.

GLORIA But apparently true. As my father says, it doesn't matter how nice the boat is; without a good captain, it can hit the rocks. In your case, scotch on the rocks. I can't believe we're stuck with you.

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Tom Attea