 why would you do that? Right? It's awesome. It's awesome. Thank you, Stephen. It's your first meeting. Did that make you feel good? Well, it's great. It's great. It's great. It's great. It's great. It's great. It's great. It's great. It's great. It's great. It's great. It's great. It's great. It's great. It's great. It's great. It's great. It's great. It's great. It's great. It's great. Oh my gosh, what's your name? Oh my God, what's your name? My name is... My human name is... I'm good. I'm good. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. How do you do? How do you do? How do you do? I'm good. I know we have... We just ended our main stage season with the production of David Auburn's The Columnist, which is a play that got its start in our festival in 2010. We're about to launch next season with the world premiere of the new comedy that was written in last year's lab called Larry's by Nate Ethmmer. It's really happened and it's become very important to us and we're really, really glad to have you here and to have your support of it. Before we get started tonight, there are a couple of things I need to say. First of all, I need to say thanks to our friends at Outround TV for our live streaming this weekend. We're going to a fundraising party that we're doing on May 19th called River Reprieve. It's going to be a spectacular evening of food and drinks and hanging out with all the actors and musicians who helped make our season so successful. So we hope you're supported by coming and partying with us. I also want to let you know that we're actually doing a workshop production of Larry in June. In other words, we did the reading a year ago. We're doing full production in the fall. So this workshop production is intended to give Nate one more developmental step before we get into full production in the fall. And so if you're one of those people who are a fan of the play, you saw it last year, you're intending to see it in full production in the fall, you might enjoy coming to see this intermediate step. That was the last Saturday in June. So we'll make sure that that information is up on our website at the time of the year as well. So we hope to see you then. I also need to let you know this play has one intermission and during that time we hope you buy lots and lots of candy to support our professional internship program. And you can go ahead and check your cell phones right now and make sure they're silenced. We would all really, really appreciate that. Okay, so a quick overview of the project goes like this. It has three parts. One part is the fellowship, the Inger New Works Fellowship. And this year our Inger New Works Fellow is Theresa Rebeck, which we're very, very pleased with. Theresa is awesome. We offer that fellowship every year to Playwrights National where we do the work we admire and who we think is going to continue to make great contributions in the American theater. The second prong of this three prong program is the Inger New Works Lab. This is an ongoing lab, a season long lab that is intended to support the work of regional and local playwrights who are working on a brand new play from its very, very start. At the beginning of the lab we have four members and the Inger New Works Lab is here and I'd like to introduce them at this point. So say hello to Nate Epler for helping them make their play be whatever they want it to be, such as providing professional accuracy to help read the play during lab times. And they really become members of our family and so we're really happy and proud to have been a part of contributing, whatever we have contributed to the work that they're doing right now. And then of course the third part of this three-part program is the festival itself and you know about that because you're here. The festival is the place, it's a culminating event where all those plays get ran. The plays out of the lab, the plays of the New Works Fellow is working on and you then become a really important process as the audience. It's a great opportunity for the playwrights to get a chance to hear their playwrights loud and get a sense of what the energy is between the play and the audience. And immediately following the reading we'll also do a talk back and we'll have a chance to have a little bit of a conversation about the play too. So we're hoping to stick around for a few minutes after that and let's see what you think. So thanks again for being here. Again, we really appreciate your support for what we're trying to do with New Works and I know you're going to really enjoy the rally. Thank you. If you had a time machine where would you go? Okay, before some of you go I'll adopt your who on me, remember that this is a perfectly rational philosophical question. Einstein tells us that time is a thing, not a flowing river, but frozen one. A full-on dimension that we can't accept because our consciousness is literally frozen into it. Some philosophers postulate that time travel is not only possible but necessary because if it weren't, they argue, we couldn't even compete with it. Our memories would bear no significance. We wouldn't look for meaning in them, we wouldn't understand cause and effect. So let's assume for the sake of today's class that time travel while brought with paradox and pop culture bullshit is not only possible but very, very real. Where would you go? What would you do? How many of you would go back and kill Hitler? Bring your hands. That's the most popular answer. Also one of the most dubious in my opinion but that's another conversation. How many of you want to see the future? Flying cars, teleportation, then the sun, then the universe? How many of you want something else? In Philly leg, Joy Hunter George appeared. Joy Honey, what is it? Are you okay? What's wrong? I know where I go. I go back to the moment I fell off the earth. Honey, come here. What happened? You're shaking all over. At the can I was plagued with thoughts, huge thoughts and most days it seemed my little brain couldn't contain them all. I marvel at ordinary things. I stare at my hands and try to grasp the present moment. What it means to be alive, really alive, right now. Right now. It's okay baby, I've got you. And I used to stargate. I grew up in the suburbs before there was light pollution so I was treated to some amazing skies. One night when I was 11 I decided to teach myself the constellation. I spread out a blanket, collected my star chart and my little flashlight with red cellophane and I lay down and looked up. I arched my back so that everything in my peripheral vision disappeared. All I saw was stars. Nothing but stars. My eyes were telescopes. Up and up and up and farther and farther and farther. I had under the blanket with green. The ground beneath me fell away. My heart beat so fast and I couldn't catch my breath. The sky was overpowering and I was falling into it. And oh my god, I loved it. It was better than the best roller coaster. I never felt so dilirated in my life. That must have been some nightmare. But I couldn't catch my breath. I couldn't breathe and I couldn't slow my heart and all of it was so big so immense and I was so small and I loved it. I did because it also terrified me. What do you need honey? What can I do for you? And I ran inside and woke up my mom. Chocolate chip cookies are even saying it's here in the morning. I woke up my mom and we made chocolate chip cookies together in the middle of the night in the evening. She held me and we watched the sun rise again. I have time machine. I go back there. And you shouldn't have been a mess then. My foundation, she wears a lot of Hanwha nails. These boobs are made just what they'll. Too big for that now. I crush your toe. Are you still the tallest girl in your class? Veronica's catching up. But I'm still taller. Is that you're looking forward to fifth grade next year? Not really. Why not? King of the Hill. I like fourth grade. Mrs. Davis is real. Why do you do that if it hurts? You're supposed to be a poor at your bed. Huh? Pain is beauty. Beauty is pain. The pain will fade, but the beauty remains. What does that mean? It means women do all kinds of things to ourselves to look beautiful. Piercing ears, pulling out panties over at night heels, plucking eyebrows. And those awful brush rollers you make me sleep in before holidays and school pictures. Your hair stays curly all day, doesn't it? So the pain only lasts for a bit. It lasts all night. I can't sleep with those things in my hair. The beauty lasts forever. When I pluck a straight hair, it hurts for just a second, but it won't grow back for a few weeks, get it? But don't you just have to pluck it again? You know what? You're too smart for your own work. I want to look like you when I grow up. Why? Because you're perfect. Are you forgetting something? Don't rush me. It is the last thing. Now where is it? It should be open to the door today. She finds a small bottle of perfume. Here it is. It's now number five. Say it. Special occasions only. No, other things. Ah, share the fantasy. Spray through the air and then step into the midst of the storm. I love that smell. Three, two. It's my favorite. You should wear it all the time. Every day we can't. Why not? It's too expensive. I spent most of my first paycheck on this bottle and look, I still have half of it left. You have to be frugal with your indulgences. What's frugal? Not wasteful. Economic. What are indulgences? Um, things that are extravagant. Over top. Like your perfumes and your questions. Oh wait, here it comes. That's the whole thing is crap. Feminism. Women's lives. Women. We saw those women on the news protesting with all the signs on Mother's Day. That's right. They were marching for something called the People's Rights Amendment, which means the government would be required to treat women the same as men. There's this boy in my meeting class, Ronald. He keeps saying boys are better than girls. Oh. Yeah, he wears an eye patch sometimes because his eyes cross. And you agree with him? About what? Do you think boys are better than girls? No way. You? Of course not. But he's complicated. Complicated? How? Well, would you like to go more? Vietnam. Be a soldier. Trudge through the rain and the mud and get shocked like those boys in Vietnam. No way. Women are equal under the law. Then we could be drafted into the army. And we have to go to work. You go to work? I don't have a choice, honey. I want to be an astronaut when I grow up. Can I do that? Sure you can. Your grandmother says that a woman's power is in how she uses it through her man. But what if she hasn't got a man? That's what I do. You don't? That was my choice. You want a man? We have your grandma and grandpa. They are our family. What about you? Are you a feminist? I'm not so sure I'm a feminist. Why? I tried to burn my bra once. They wouldn't catch fire. What? Never mind. Because you really want to be an astronaut. Absolutely. Why? I want to see the stars as close up as I can. I bet they're really, really bright. I'll tell you what. I'm not a feminist, but I'll raise you to be one. Feel. Feel. Now that's the Joey Mitchell. Can I play the one about the parking lot? Sure. Why not? No, I can't use the writer. The blue one with the sparkle looks like ice. So the sparkle's gone. What's that? Well, she goes on and on about paradise and parking lots and putting trees in museums, but then in the last verse she says, a big yellow taxi took away my old man. Who's the old man? I don't know. The boyfriend? Or father? Well, why does the taxi take him away? You are missing the point, Joey. The meaning of the song is in the chorus. You don't know what you've got from this garden. Appreciate everything you have. When you have it, because it won't last forever. Why not? Nothing lasts forever. You'll last forever? You think so? Yeah. Why's that? Because you're my mom. Regardless, I think the point is that we should appreciate each other every day. Doesn't that sound like a good idea? Yep. Where are you going tonight? Out. With a boyfriend? He's not a boyfriend yet. You want him to be a boyfriend? It depends on what he does when I tell him about you. What does that matter? Trust me, honey. It matters. Oh, that reminds me. Look what I found today. She crossed through a box and pulled out a photograph. A snapshot. A picture. The four of us. The four of us. The Gallagher women. The clown. That's right. Your grandma, your great-grandma, me and you. My tongue's sticking out. You were two months old. When was this taken? Bobby's 15th anniversary party. I miss her. Me too. Why haven't I seen this before? I found it in a box full of pictures of landscapes and buildings that nobody wanted. Would you like to see her? Really? Sure. Aren't you going to put it in your special album? I think it's time you start your own album. Someone's got a birthday coming up. You could ask for a camera. Really? My old camera? Why not? You're old enough. Then you'd be good. Grandma, come on, okay? Don't stay up too late. What's wrong, mom? I feel like I'm forgetting something. Your necklace. Oh, right! My pearls. So what would I do without you? You can't just enjoy it on the head. Roots around. Roots in the box. Lights to it. The bulldozer is revealed. Where did it go? It's too bright and it's too tight and it's still choking me. Make it go now. Make it stop. Young George finds the necklace. These were your buddy's wedding pearls. Special occasion in a movie? You bet. It chokes me and it doesn't stop. I'm going to explode into a million tiny pieces. Young George puts the necklace on. It breaks and pearls spill onto the table. Oh, shit! Oh, no! Look at me! Joy! Young George basically searches for pearls. It's so much and each one sounds like a tiny planet. And it's so cold and tight then it just blows up in my face. I think you unrolled in with a table. I'm so scared because the only thing that helps is to stare at the pictures that the red glass balls make on the bathroom wall. I don't see it. They're so pretty. Oh, wait! I found it! When I find it, I'll hide all the little pieces of me in this glass ball. Bury them so nobody can find them until it's time. Here you go, Mom. Joy gives Young George the pearl. Those were your great-grandmothers. They were so old. It hurts, Joy. I know, Mom. It'll be okay. What am I going to do? Can't you fix this? The pain makes me cry sometimes. It won't be the same. Can you help me? Young George puts the pearls in her jewelry box. Nothing lasts forever. Huh? She looks for her reflection in the mirror. Her reflection is old George. Gross feet already. I swear, Joy, I'm decomposing in front of you. No, you're not. You're beautiful, Mom. I love you. Sweetheart. Be good. Young George can't do whatever he wants. I can't do anything. Shh! You're here. Mom? It's me. Light space. Light ride on Joy's office. Michael Enver. Oh, my God. Don't tell that kid. I mean, the size of his balls must weigh him down so much that his back must be in constant pain from the sheer size of his balls. No wonder he shuffles down the hall like a theater. It's all a little prick. Little prick, big balls. Yeah! You done? George shuffles into the hall. He goes in front of the door and sits. Now I'm done. That's a good thing you have tenure. What exactly did the dean say? Nothing. Sat there, silent while Mr. Hipster glasses accused me of bias in the classroom. Bias? Bias. Liberal bias. Seriously? Out of nowhere. I'm walking down the hall and the dean says, can I see you for a moment, Dr. Gallagher? And I say, sure, Dean Thomas. And I walk into his office, oblivious, and this kid is sitting there, all fucking self-important, and I'm ambushed. How is space and time political? How the hell should I know? Beyond the fact that the entire academy is some depraved layer designed solely for brainwashing innocent young minds with tainted, literal agendas, like knowledge, ooh, that's so bad. Joy? Like pursuing knowledge and challenging preconceived notions that threaten the very foundations of this republic. I can't talk to you when you like this. And maybe you should go. But I mean... Do it. Only, rationally, which kid was it? Itro class. Nick Jagger. Still can't believe that's his name. What were his parents thinking? Did he follow an official complaint? I don't think so. It was just an informal conversation. He told the dean that I assault his values in class. That I never let the other side give their opinion. The other side of what? Exactly. What did he say? What did you say? I said that I'd be happy to listen to his opinion if he ever raised his hand, which he never does. And then he said that he's not comfortable raising his hand. He said, everyone knows I'm an atheist and I'll dock their grades if they don't agree with me. That's bullshit. What's worse, that the dean didn't stand up for me, Michael. He sat back in his chair, nodding while his kid attacked me. Me? What are the excellence in teaching award two years in a row? So what now? He decided that it would be a good idea we're going to sit in on my next few classes for a review. He wants to make sure I'm encouraging a positive and comfortable learning environment. It's cake. That's not the point. What is the point? Do you think we would have said that if I were a man? Come on, enjoy. Think about it, Michael. Are male professors expected to provide a positive and comfortable learning environment? Not usually. Exactly. I tried to imagine how that conversation would have gone down with a male professor like Caldwell and I couldn't. I couldn't see it. Caldwell's a douche. Again, none of the points. His lectures are boring as hell. You're avoiding the question. Would the dean have accused Caldwell of bias? No. But he doesn't challenge his students. You do. Didn't they expect me to be his kid's mother? You are, in a way. That's not fair. I worked my ass off to get here. All I'm saying is that students naturally see you differently. Because I'm a woman, yes. And that's not a slam. It's just a fact. I had to work twice as hard as my male colleagues to be taken seriously in the field. I had no female mentors in graduate school. I was the only woman in 20 miles of the science program. I did nothing but fight to be taken seriously. That's it. I'm tired of the fighting. I'm tired of the glazed eyes and the is this going to be on the test? And the texting and the pajama pants and all that goddamn music? Done. Really? I know 50 people who would kill for your job. Call them up. They can have it. The students aren't the enemy. They get so much of that these common denominator everywhere they turn. Nobody expects anything from them. Nobody gives a rat's ass about them. They're just numbers, intuition payments for your graduation statistics. You care about them. And the way you care is by not expecting anything less from them than their absolute best. They're not used to that kind of responsibility, but it works. You reach them. I can think of at least 20 undergraduates who would be willing to put everything in the line for you. This is nothing. No, it's not nothing. Fucking waste time. I don't have time for this. Unless you want to wind up flipping burgers and jacking the box you find time. Now, man up, smile pretty for the Dean and go in there tomorrow and blow his fucking mind. Man up. Did you seriously just tell me to man up? Yep. I thought you very much. You're welcome. Just out of curiosity, what's our good buddy Nick Jagger getting in the class? Let's find out, shall we? Hey, you get off my cloud. Shut up. Oh, looky here. A Dean. He didn't take the last quiz. Figures. How's that? Your professor my whole life. Actually, I take that back when I was eight, I wanted to be an astronaut. Oh, yeah? What happened? Causticobia. Great. That would kind of get in the way, wouldn't it? Yeah. I had to settle for the big spaces inside my head. That's nice. You know what you need? What? Break. Oh, yeah? Sure. I'm at the bar now. You know I can't do that. Why not? You could just hang out. I don't think it's a good idea. Why? You know why. I don't know why you still work there. It's a nice place. People are real down to earth. You know that if you came in visiting. What's that supposed to mean? I mean, they don't talk about entropy and entanglement and the many worlds interpretation. I like talking about entanglement. So do I, but that's all you do, Joy. I'm saying there's a time and a place for it, and there's a time and a place for a good beer and a bad joke. Did a hot bar come in? That too. Do we rise and close the door? Tell you what. Let's practice your defense. My defense? Your dissertation. Chapter four. Now? Yes. Now. Entropy. Go. Are you sure this is a good idea? Why not? It's three o'clock. Always full of students. You have office hours. So? You're my T.A. You're supposed to be in my office. Oh, no. She put her hand under his shirt. More. Order to disorder. Homogeneity bursting into dynamic diversity. You're turning me on, Dr. Donahue. Not a doctor yet. Then let's play soccer. Are you sure about this? Oh, yes. Definitely. Yes. Then keep it under ten decibels, okay? I really don't want to get caught. Hey, kid. Things progress. Joy's office phone rings. Don't you dare. It could be about the NIH grant. Joy Gallagher. Mrs. Peterson? How did you get this number? What's wrong? Slow down. I don't understand. She's where? She's doing what? Did you tell her to go back inside? It's just she gets confused. No, don't call the police. Don't. I'll be right home. I'll be there in 20 minutes. Just 20 minutes. What's up, though? Nothing. This is a problem with my dog. You know you had a dog? I do. A little... She got out and wrecked my neighbor's flowers. Can you take the afternoon seminar? Sure. Are you okay? I'm fine. Everything's fine. I'm fine. Sorry. After cutting back on myself. Life's safe. Life's up on the house. The doorbell rings. The doorbell rings the second time. Joy rushes on. She pulls on a jacket. Long eats. No. She opens the door. Anna. Time. Gallagher? Doctor. Gallagher. Joy Gallagher. Come on in. Anna's jacket. She's a mosaic of handed color. She wears an elaborate headscarf that carries several hands made back. Do you hear the nurse? Yes. Anna. Nice to meet you. Thanks for doing this on such short days. The lavender outside of us knocked me down. What fragrance? I know, right? That's gorgeous. And so is this house. Are all these easy? Mostly. I give you the tour, but I'm running late. Easy? Mom, this is Anna. She's going to stay with you while I go to work. Hi, Georgia. George. She hates Georgia. Hey, George. What did you mean running late? I have class. I wrote down her invitations of a notebook on the table and my cell phone numbers are there, too. I'll keep it on vibrate during my classes. I don't think that comes on. I don't know if you drink coffee, but I do. So there's plenty. And I should be home around two and let the search begin as well. Did you get the literature that we sent over? Yes. I'm here to meet with you, Mrs. Doctor Gallagher. Joy. You're our nurse, right? Yes. But our shoulder receptionist. What's her name? Sandy. Sandy, right. I told Sandy everything over the phone and she said you'd be at the house by 8 this morning. I teach at 9. Yes, but you and I... I can't do that right now. I left everything in the notebook. It's very clear. I don't think that you understand. Mom, you haven't eaten anything. I can't eat this. Why not? It's just toast. You put glass in it. Don't be silly. It's gritty. There's glass in it. That's ridiculous. You broke my red glass bottles and now you're making me eat them. Look, I'm sorry. You put my dean. My boss is sitting in on my class today. I have to be there. You and I can get acquainted when I come home this afternoon, okay? It's more than getting acquainted. Whatever. Doctor Gallagher. Joy. Call me Joy. You know what I do, right? You're a nurse. A hospice nurse. I'm sorry to be so blunt, but I know what you are. Do you course and you know what hospice is? Of course I do. Good. Now, before I can do anything for George, I need to sit down with you and get all the information and together we can determine a plan of care. There is no plan of care. What do you mean? There is no plan of care. Dr. Bramlett won't do any more people. That's not what I mean. A hospice plan of care includes nursing and a variety of companion programs inside music therapy. Sounds great. Right, Mom? You love music. And your mother's condition is terminal. And I can handle it, but I just can't take time off right now. I have to save it for a wedding. I just need someone to stay with her when I have to go work. I'm not a babysitter, Dr. Gallagher. I never said that. How about if we reschedule for a time when you're not so rushed? Well, I can't do anything until you sit down and talk to me. Zoe looks at her walk in transit. You're right. I need to apologize. The decision to begin hospice care is a difficult one. I know. Let's start over, okay? My name is Anna Nichols, and I'll be your mother's nurse and care coordinator for the next few months. How are you feeling today? It's gritty. I'm going to talk to Joy for a while, okay? I'm going to ask her some questions about you, but you feel free to talk to me, too. Tell me anything that you like. Mom, please eat something. No. Anna opens the bag in a new product. What kind of cancer does she have? Low cancer. If you know, of course, I don't know. How did it present? Precious pain in her hip. So it's in past size. Yes. What's the process? What's your prognosis? 18 to 24 months. Is that what Dr. Bramlet told you? Yes. 18 to 24 months with aggressive chemo. But you're done with chemo. We are. It was too much for her. I have orders from Dr. Bramlet. She says that your mother has less time than that. Hospice generally won't be referred until life expectancy is six months or less. She won't sit still for a scan. Why not? Chemo therapy induced dementia. Everyone calls it chemo brain, but in my mom's case that's an insult. She's paranoid and scared, terrified really. The last time we tried to pet scan, the technicians had to tie her down and she cried and screamed, so I stopped it. They tried their best but couldn't get a clear reading so we have no clue how long she has. If she could have three months, she could have three years. And I have no personal time or vacation time because my pushy professor job gives me summers off. So I can't take a leave of absence because it's unpaid and I have to keep food on the table so I need someone to help me during the day so I can go teach my classes without worrying that mom's going to wander off or burn the house down. I can definitely help you with that. It'll just take some time and schedule. No, you're fine. Sorry. Hi, Melissa. Yeah, I know. Can you call Dean's office every schedule? Tell him I'm sick. I know, I know. Ask Michael where the files are. Do you have his number? They're in there, too. Look, can I call you back? I'm in the middle of something. What do you teach? Philosophy. Ah! I remember that class in college. Plato, Aristotle, Meijing. Einstein, Newton, philosophy, and space and time. Oh, wow. Dean is reviewing my class this morning. He said, how's her pain? We say on top that we're biking, but it doesn't seem to be helping as much anymore. She probably needs something stronger. I feel like it's found the reason again. I'm sorry. She's not into this. So, what's next? I have some paper speed assigned and some literature to go over with you about hospice care. It'll take about an hour. How important is this review? My job kind of depends on it. Don't they understand that your mother is sick? No, they don't. That's bullshit! I beg your pardon? I'm sorry, but it's bullshit. I see this goddamn thing happen all the time and it pisses me off. What? Is this crap about family leave and personal time and FMLA? We're supposed to help, but it does nothing. Filling out forms of proof in some administrator that someone in your family is sick. We're social creatures and we need each other for God's sake. No, but no, no, no. It's just nothing but tying off, which is bullshit because you work harder than you ever have before when you're left being sick, but no, it's just a lack of productivity that works with the bottom line and lose track of what's really important. It's fine. I'll figure it out. That's the problem. You shouldn't have to figure it out. I'm sorry. I get on so much sometimes. I get on so much sometimes. I'll do what he does to work, okay? What? We'll be fine. Go to your class. Really? Yeah. We'll do the paperwork and consultation when you get home. Oh my God, I promise I'll do all of that. You are amazing. A lifesaver. Well, I do it at hand. Shit, that's not, that's not what I'm talking about. I'm really mad. I like who you know who I am. What? You know who I am, my favorite. But in a pinch, I'll drink a good Shiraz. I'll check in as soon as I can work. Joy gasses her things next. Clock strikes. Anna looks at her watch. Another clock strikes. Anna smiles, removes her jacket and uses it up. Your daughter's right, you know. You'll have to eat to keep up your strength. She sits next to old George when you're moving her head apart. Her head is completely bald. There's a small touch here on the back of her head. Old George looks at Anna. Their eyes meet and Anna smiles. Old George tentatively raises her hand as though it touched Anna's small head. Go ahead, it's okay. Old George touches Anna's head. That tickles. Old George puts her other hand on her own head. That's right. Light slowly fades. Joy left her. Your readings for today were about entanglement. Einstein's spooky action in the distance. The quantum weirdness that you've all heard so much about. Here's basically how it works. You have a quarter. Heads and tails. Now, slice that quarter down the middle, in effect turning it into two separate coins with two new heads and tails. With me so far? But what if the new coin's in an envelope? Mail it to Alpha Centauri, someone just like you, with more bumps on his forehead and a tail, receives the package and opens up, removing his own unique coin half, while you still have yours. Two halves of the same original coin. Both you and your Alpha Centauri in counterpart flip the coin at the same time. Is it going to be heads or tails? The outcome is entirely random, correct? Your coin is tails. So is your friends. Head. So is your friends. Flip again. Heads. So is your friends. In fact, with every single coin flip, the Alpha Centauri coin will exhibit the exact same result as yours. Every single time. This is entanglement. Weird, huh? Life's up on Joy Goddard. Joy, you'd like to enter. How was that? Positive? Comfortable? The positive, comfortable, non-computational environment conducive to learning? Truthfully, not your best. I know that, but did he look engaged? I didn't want him to think it was staring. At least he turned his phone off. Did he? I thought so. I'm texting. You're kidding, right? How are you kidding? Wouldn't he save you out your mind? Very interesting, Dr. Gallagher. That's it. What if they did some brownies? Send them anonymously to his office? Bribes don't work if they're anonymous. Not a bribe. They'd improve his overall outlook, which might imperceptibly affect the outcome of his review. A bribe. Are you surprised that I resorted such banal methods of persuasion? I'm actually more surprised that you know how to bake. I made the mistake of telling my mom in high school that anyone who can read can cook. She challenged me to make it off. Who won? She did. Of course. Hand down. But the judges were the other secretaries in the typing pool, so it could have been real. What was the wager? I had to cook dinner for a month. That's one way to learn, I guess. Where's your mom now? Big party. You never mentioned her before. I was just curious. I, uh, I lost her a while ago. Now, Chapter 5. Chapter 5? It sucks. Don't remind me. The thread of argument keeps jumping around. It's almost like you don't know what you're writing about. I don't. You said something. Do you need more research? No. More time? No, no, it's not that. What is it? I'm just not feeling it. Huh? It's just, it's just not happening. Michael, you're not a jazz musician. I doubt the committee will appreciate me. I just wasn't feeling it. But you're not. You're a superstar, my friend. Leagues above, they're our grad students. This is not superstar quality work. This really seems fair. So? We hold you to a much higher standard because you've earned it. I've had other things on my mind. Michael opens his bag. He pulls out a small gift in the end of the joy. What's this? Open it. The joy pulls off the ribbon and opens the box. Inside is a folded piece of paper. Go on. She opens the paper and reads. Michael, what is this? Simon. Why? Because. And I thought you liked working with me. I do. Then why are you requesting a new committee chair? Because I like working with you. I like you. I don't understand. You. It's all you. Joy, the amazingness of you. Your curiosity, your laugh, your body. And I just like you a lot. I like you a lot. I like you. It sounded so much better in my head. What are you talking about? I want to be with you, Joy. Go out on a real date in public. A couple. I want to hold your hand in front of other people. And I can't do it as long as I work for you. I can't do it as long as you are my committee chair. So I need you to sign this paper and resign from my committee so the call vote can take over. And you and I can see where this goes. But you called Caldwell a douche. He is. You're too good for him. That's not the point. So what about your dissertation? What about it? We've worked so hard. Don't you want to finish? Sure. Anything Caldwell can help you more than I can. But this has nothing to do with Caldwell, Joy. But you want to work with him. So I can be with you. Don't you think we should discuss this first? I'm tired of fucking around in your office. I'm done with that. You are? Yes. I'm falling for you. And it won't be good for either of us if we're caught. And so here I am making a choice, leaping into the abyss. Joy Gallagher, will you go out on an actual date with me? Dinner? And then maybe a ridiculous movie that has nothing to do with time dilation or length contraction? Or as in wow me? Or a wow shit? Just so I'm clear, I can either work with you as your advisor or sleep with you, but not both. No, you put it that way. Okay, you know what? Yeah, I guess, yes. You're giving me no command? At first, whatever it is we're doing here was exciting and cool, but now it's just stupid. I'm 34, Christ's sake, and I'm sneaking around like a goddamn teenager. I'm better than that. Well, thanks. So are you. Don't you see, this is a good thing. You can't just bring it on me like this. I was trying to be romantic. And I'm trying to digest the fact that you'd rather have sex with me than work with me. I know. Of course not. Jesus, Joy, you make it sound so what? Insipid. It's not just sex. I'm choosing both your brain and your body. I'm choosing all of you, the whole Joy Gallagher package. Is that okay? And right now, frankly, I don't give a shit whether I finish the dissertation. I never saw myself as a professor and there's not much else you can do with a PhD in philosophy. How do we apply to grad school? What a bet. What? Becca Carlton called me out for being the only bartender without a graduate degree. They bet me that I couldn't get in so I applied and I got in. You know there's a waiting list for this program, right? I started taking classes and I loved them and then I started working with you and I loved. And now, well, here we are. I get it. You're the best student we've had in a decade. Why didn't you tell me? Because I didn't think it mattered. But now I think maybe the reason I'm here is this. You. You okay? Yes. Too much? Yes. I felt like I was lying to you, Joy, and I'm done lying, okay? He can't return. She'll let them if I jump into the abyss with you. I will let you fall? Unless it's for me. Oh my God, seriously? What is this? What? I thought you girls liked all that corny, romantic shit. Ow! What was that for? Being a pig. Seeking for them. What was that for? Being here. Does that mean you go out with me? Light's faith. Light's rise on the garden. Sunshine's warm. We're serious gardening here. Hat, love, lawn. She brings a cushion for her knees. She kneels and starts the day. So what did you say? I was surprised. Totally taken aback. I mean, he's gorgeous, right? I'm sure I babbled like an idiot. You never babbled, Joy. When you were two, you spoke in complete sentences. But why? Why would he be interested in me? That's the wrong question, Joy. It's not why. Why not? Why not? So I had to ask you. He stopped me in the hallway. I was late for calculus. And? And, he said, I think we should go from... And? No. No. What did you say? The first I said, me? And then he said, yeah? And then I said, why? Why would he even think that I'd be interested in going from... Because you're beautiful and smart. I'm a geek, Mom. And I don't use half a can of aquanet on my hair every morning like the other girls. Oh, and did you hear that Melinda Duffy's hair caught on fiber and chemistry? She got too close to a bunsen bun. I think you should go. What? It's a problem. You should go. I told you, I hate that stuff. You're 17. How many boyfriends have you had? Two. What? Or how long? A week. Totally. And that one punk kid with the spacey pen, what was his name? Mark. Right. With a C. Bri. Mark with a C broke it off with you. Over the phone. How does that? When you broke it off with you, you went for a walk for two hours. So? In the pouring rain. Broke my ass off. Of course you did. Why did you do that? I loved him. Oh shit, Joey. He was an idiot. All right, he was an idiot. And you were being dramatic. Why can't you just accept that you deserve better and you deserve to have fun? Guys aren't exactly lining up at the door. Apparently they are. Trust me. If I go, as soon as we get to dinner, I'll open my mouth and say something obtuse and no realize what a big mistake he made asking me to prom. I'm not prom material. Bullshit. And it hurt when Mark dumped me. It hurt. Bad. Of course it did. I don't want to hurt like that again. You're going to. Well that's helpful, Mom. I mean, I'm not going to lie to you. You're so intense, Joey. You feel everything so deeply. I worry about you. Why? Because life's hard. And you can't be so serious all the time when people be miserable. And what is the point of that, really? You were here for such a short time. The one you would be happy to do something silly. And wear bright colors once in a while. Black suits me. You only think it does. You really want me to go prom? You'll regret it if you don't. It's ridiculous and stupid, yes. But we need ridiculous and stupid. Just like we need Shakespeare and... What's letting it back up? What club? We'll want to meet one Monday. Ah, feature problem solvers. Right. We need future problems solvers. And we need prom. We need books. Physical sucks. It won't be long now. Especially sucks when you get straight A's and your teacher is thinking you walk on water. I know, honey. And everyone hates you even more, so Adrienne Jennings shoves you in a locker. Yeah, well Adrienne Jennings is just a bitch. Cat, cat, cat. I promise you'll be going when you get to college when you get out of prison next year. You are going to do amazing and wonderful things that I already suspect. Jesus, mom, no pressure. It's on the front of you. I haven't done anything yet. You will. I raise you to be independent. I'm not a feminist, but I'll raise you to be one. Did it work? What do you think? Well, it wasn't easy. Trust me. In the background, old George entered. She wandered around, educated. She touched at her college. Oh, tight. I love you. Of course you do. I'm awesome. Now, help me get right to lavender. What do I do? Take this grave, make little holes all over the bed like this. Why are we doing this? To mix oxygen with the soil so we can grow bigger. It already covers the whole front of the house. It can be bigger. Go bigger, go home, huh? They think old George starts digging under her breath, fill the background, she removes her hand from the shirt. I love this garden. There is nothing like digging and dirt to remind you where you come from. It's so simple, basic. It's just you, the earth, the smell, love and play. You know, in my calculus class, we're learning about fractal geometry. The shapes are like works of art, only in nature, and they're found everywhere, especially in the microscopic view of plant life. Joy, what day? What day? Old George sings a little louder. She's in her underwear. When the... Time for bone meal. What? Organic for life. I thought you said bone meal. I did. Bone meal and blood meal. It's the best way to increase the nitrogen in the soil. And then ground up bone and blood. They love it. That's my mom. It's just life, joy, all living things, oh, their existence to other living things. That's how it works. Now, keep making those little holes. I'll be right back. Young George sings. Old George in her underwear runs forward, thinking, When the... First in order for any kind of cause and effect to occur. So entanglement drove me crazy. Spooky action in the distance. Sorry, resisted quantum mechanics because it defied his intuition. Relativity, his biggest discovery, also defies our intuition, heavily because the world's too slow. When we all travel at the speed of light, relativity makes quantum mechanics, however, is a tricky bastard. It cannot be grasped by any kind of logic because it literally defies reality. It's the ultimate level. And as stubborn and bizarre as it is, we know it to be true because the data supports it. Time and time again. Experimental data proves that quantum mechanics despite its voodoo qualities and Einstein hated that. The fact that we can't predict nature is woven into the very fabric of nature. The actual question that we cannot answer, then, is the answer. Life's faith. Life's drive on the house. Joy's high-found laptop. Anne and Nick. Old George sings in their underwear. What are you working on? Any questions? Midterm. I remember blue books when I was in college. Do you still use blue books? Some do. Most everything's electronic now. A clock affects two. Makes sense, Tina. What? You grew up in a hospital with clocks. You think about time. Totally, but that's together. The clocks were just things. I'm something else, something bigger. It's clever of her to set them off by a few minutes. That way she can hear every... hear every chime. Drive me crazy. New last half an hour in this house. How many clocks does she have? Seven. Not counting the clocks that are parts of other things. Like that belly of the Buddha in the bedroom? Are they all antiques? Not all of them. There was a clock in the basement that she had made out of an old dark board from England. Oh, right. You were a Rhodes Scholar. I Googled you after the first day. Yeah, I'm sorry about that. Sorry about what? The way I treated you. I was trying to... I don't know. That was nothing. I broke it at fist fights before on the first day. Really? You'd be surprised. She had so much beautiful stuff. And she knows every piece of it. Every antique, every clock, every book, dish, picture on the wall. Wow. She was an army brat growing up. She moved all the time, base to base, Paris, Germany, California, Japan. By the time she was 16, she spoke four languages. Whenever she moved, she had to get rid of everything she owned. It was too expensive to ship stuff. So every two or three years, she started over with nothing but a trunk of clothes. When she finally got her own place, she decided that she wanted things all around her. Meaningful things. Things with history. I like that. But none of this is her history. Or someone's history. Another clock strikes, too. Anna looks in her watch and crosses to open George. George, honey. It's time for your pain medication, okay? I'll be right back. Don't go anywhere. I'm active. Joy rides it and slowly crosses to her mind. Mom, are you there? What are you doing here? She slaps Joy. Go away. You can't do it anymore. I'm listening. Oh, wow. Those are some big sprints, kiddo. What were you doing? What were you doing? I wanted to see how fast I could go. On your bike? Yeah. I wanted to go faster and faster and faster. You stood up on the pedals, didn't you? Yes. After I told you not to do that. I'm sorry, mommy. I'm so sorry. This is exactly why I told you not to do that. You have to be careful. I wanted to go fast. It's a little bike, honey. It can only go so fast. Too much and it gets out of control. But it's not so good. The wind was in my hair. And then I hit a big rock. Let me see you. Well, I don't think it's broken. I'm sorry, mommy. Let me get some peroxide. You'll wash it out. It'll sink pretty badly. But it'll feel better. It's broken. Wrong. I'm George X. Anna and George are my... Just a little pinch. And it's going to stain going in. But then you'll feel better. I promise. I'm an alcoholic. I'm prepared to hold George's arm. She has been through the infection. It hurts. I know. I hate giving her these injections. But I don't want her changing my IV yet. She's still pretty mobile. There you go, sweetie. Anna throws old George's hair for a moment and exits. Young George enters with a pack of cigarettes. She lights it up in a meal immediately. What are you doing? Oh, shit. What are you doing here? I live here. What the hell, mom? It's just one. You quit. Two months ago, you quit. I've had a bad day, Joy. I don't see you quit. You told me you quit. You lied to me. I'm tired of you taking pictures of disease long to the bathroom mirror. I'm tired. I'm the whole meter of the loud crap. I like smoking, okay? I like it. It tastes good. It makes me feel good. And it'll kill you. You don't know that. Every day in health class, they drill it into my skull. Smoking kills you. It coats your lungs, your car. It crystallizes and causes tumors. There's no proof. And then I come home and watch you light up 20 times a day. Oh, for God's sakes. Joy, get off your high horse. Everybody smokes. Joy, taste your cigarette and crush it. You're the only thing I have. Doesn't that mean anything to you? Don't you dare. Don't you dare make me feel guilty, Joy Gallagher. I graced you by myself. A single mother shunned by everyone. I gave up everything for you. And you have no right to tell me what to do. You have a door to open. The more things picked in. I can't have other things to do. I've got this. I can stay with her. I'm good. And don't you have other patients? Nope. It's your mom. I'm easing in after some time off. Vacation? Chemotherapy. I'm sorry. Why? We caught it early and they operated. Chopped up on left chest. And chemotherapy was just in case. I'm fine. That's good. When I found out I was confused. I mean, I'm a nurse, right? I knew what to do. I ate well. I exercised. I breastfed both my daughters, which is supposed to be like the best thing you can do. I took vitamins. And anti-oxidants. But not too many. Everything in moderation, right? Nobody in my family had cancer. Heart diseases that are playing. Talk about random. Does that explain it to you? Hair or lack of your own? I shaved it off the moment I was diagnosed. My doctor said that my hair might not even fall out. But to tell you the truth, it was liberating. And the tattoo? I was having a day. I wanted to do something crazy. And I said, what the hell? If I don't like it, my hair will grow back and I won't have a look at it. It hurt like a... It's not you. My girl was glad I went off to the event. But 13 years, everything annoys them. Do you like it? That keeps shaking my head. So I got to do. What does it mean? It's a Celtic triple spiral. Maiden mother crumb. It stands for power through transition and growth. Seems appropriate in today's world. I don't know much about spirituality. But you teach about space and time. How do you do it? Do you work with people who are dying? My job? It's like teaching is your job. Yeah, but you spend day after day with such decay. Cancer is just evil. No, it's not. How can you say that? I see this billboard on my way here every day. A row of doctors standing up tall looking fierce, arms crossed determined. The caption says, Watch out cancer, the reinforcements are here. I guess the goddamn war. And these doctors like generals are out to conquer and colonize the human body so we'll never get sick. We'll never die. But it is a war. That's a myth. Black and white story, a good versus evil that we can wrap our brains around. Cancer isn't some invader. It's us. Your mom, me, our own DNA, run them up. It divides and divides and divides and grows and refuses to die despite all the poison that we throw at it. It's our shadow self, our rebellious self, the most resilient self, the self that proposes to quit. When we poison cancer, we're poisoning ourselves. So what are you saying? We should ignore it. Good Lord, no. We should throw everything we have at it. But it's our wife, right? In order to live, we have to kill off the cells that don't know how to die. You know how to knit. I'm pardoning. Not in secular, I know. But I'm curious. Have you ever learned to knit? No. You should. Why? Did we go at it? How do you know? Like me. Anna opens her bag. She pulls out a colorful pile of yarn. I have this ritual. Whenever I take on a new patient, I start a new project. And I work on it every visit. It doesn't matter what it is. I knit all kinds of things, skirts, sweaters, scarves, blankets. I sit with the patient and I talk with them and I knit. It's like I'm weaving them in to whatever I'm working on. They're spirit. Their breath becomes a part of the fabric. The questions they ask, the strange phrases they mumble, the silence. It's all here. This skirt, an 84-year-old man named Rick Soso. He lied about his age and joined the army when he was 15. He fought in World War II and Korea. His wife died 10 years before he did. They tried to have kids but they couldn't. So it was just Richard and me for four months. We stayed in his home. And I learned all about his trips to Jerusalem and Egypt. The Great Pyramid and the Sphinx. And when it got close to the end, he started talking to his wife, Betty, when she was going to rent me. He wanted to be certain that she was jealous of me. Maybe laugh a lot. This bag, it's Magel Davis. She was in a coma for the entire time I was with her. So I never heard her speak. But she had a huge family. And they were all by her side every day. I wet her lips and listened to them tell stories to her and about her. They argued with each other over silly shit. And then they make up and they talk more and cry. Her youngest daughter called in to bed with her and put her arms around her and held her for hours. She was holding her like that the moment she died. If you're a mother, I don't know yet. Who do you think it should be? She opens her bag and pulls out two needles and steams young ones. Is it for you? You're going to learn how to net. And if there are casting conditions, you'll want to join me. No, no, you don't have to. I have too much work to do. So it's Friday afternoon and we'll keep. No, sit. Do whatever means. People make a big deal about how complicated this is, but it really isn't. Basically all you do is you take your needles and make loops. Pull them through each other. Take a needle through the yarn and you'll loop it over itself until it turns into fabric. See? Loops, passes through loops, passes through loops. You have a loop on your left needle. You make a loop on the right one and you pass through. Now I've cast on 10 stitches for you. Watch. Slip your right needle through the front of the loop like this. You wrap the yarn around, pull it through. See? Stitch moves from the left to the right. Put your needle through the loop, wrap it around, pull it through. Now you try. I can't. I'm warning you, I'm extremely clumsy. So, I'll make a bend in your yarn. Listen, the good stuff played me. You will know when you're netting with the good stuff. It's like the fingers are having multiple orgasms. What? Stitch! The way remains thin. It is useless to resist me. I will win in the end. Do I finally sit? Anna gives her a needle. Is it this wood? Bamboo. It's warm and quiet. An entirely stable. Through the back. Now loop the working yarn over the right needle, just like that, and now pull it through. No, no, no. The other way. And fight it off. I do. No, good deal. You can just pick it up like that. And through the front and then once. Peek through the window. Wait, I know that. My grandmother used to say that. In through the front door once around the back. Peek through the window and off jumps jacks. What about me? It's a rhyme to help you to remember what to do. In through the front door once around the back. Peek through the window and off jumps jacks. I see. In through the front door once around the back. Peek through the window and off jumps jacks. Like that? Just like that. Is George not a net? Maybe. I don't think so. Hey George, do you know how to net? What happens when I get to the end of the row? You just turn your needle around and do it again, make another breath, and so on and so on. That's easy. Isn't it? In through the front door once around the back. Peek through the window and off jumps jacks. What did you say George? I said chip. Old Jack's chips. Does that smell? Chip, chip, chip, chip, chip. George, honey, are you okay? It's all right. No. For her. She's not my mother. Why have you grown that finger? Special occasions only, right sweetheart? She sprays the air, steps into the mist, and boils. Share the fantasy. I'm okay. That's cool. You got your gear and get your very good stuff. Yeah. Good deal. You got your gear and get your very good stuff. Yeah. Good deal. Secrets keep us searching. They're the engine of science. Secrets keep us engaged they whisper to us from behind the veil. Come and see. We think we're so smart, but the fact is we've only just scratched the surface. Entanglement shows us that reality itself is infinitely more bizarre than anything we could imagine, so we keep looking. We keep listening to those weird whispers, wondering what they're really saying. Furious typing at a crazy speed, lights rise, revealing young George smoking, sitting at a massive typewriter with IBM's Electric Free, her fingers fly, Joy hovers. Come on, why not? Because I said so. But that's no reason. It's reason enough for me, now scoot. More typing. At least tell me what it's about. Boy meets girl. Boy falls in love with girl. And they live happily ever after. When do they do the nasty? Joy! Make the beast with two bats. What? That shakes beer. I know. Let me read it. No! You secretly want me to read it. Oh, yeah? Otherwise, why would you be typing so crazily in front of me, tempting me with all of your typing? Because I work during the day, and this is the only time I have to write. Shouldn't you be doing homework or something? I'm finished. Don't you have friends to talk to on the phone for hours? Hello, have you met me? Joy Gallagher. And I have no normal teenage life. You can't read it until I'm finished. And I won't be finished for a long, long, long time. Maybe by the time you're 21. But I can help you. I can help you proofread. Joy. Edit? Stop. I am doing this for me. Okay? Not for you. For me. I want to do this myself. That's just a silly romance novel. It's one of those stupid paperbacks that dime a dozen. I've read so many of them, I thought I might have a knack for it. Maybe we'll be rich or something. Maybe? All the more reason to let me read it. No. Why not? Because I'm embarrassed. All right? It's embarrassing. There are things in here my 14-year-old daughter has no business reading. I sneak those books out of your nightstand, you know. What? You have at least 30 romance books stacked up in the bottom of your nightstand. I sneak into your room and take them when you're at work. I flip through them and read the dirty part. Sure. What? Am I in trouble? I don't... I don't know. Maybe. Why would you do that? Why? At first I was just curious. I wanted to know what you found so interesting in them. And then, well, I have to learn about that stuff somehow, right? You can ask me. You taught me everything I need to know about sex, Mom. I'm good with the technical stuff, but there's other stuff too. What kind of stuff? You know, kissing, feelings. What to do, I guess? I don't know. I'm sorry I brought it up. Joy, these books aren't real. They aren't even close to real life. They're just fantasies written for lonely women. You're not lonely. It's fluff, Joy. It's cheap thrills. I'll let you read this when you're older, okay? I promise. Right now, it's just... Well, I'm just sure it's just terrible. I still can't believe that you snuck around behind my back like that. Those books are totally tame compared to the ones that get passed around the cafeteria at lunch. Last week, Veronica Bear snuck in a copy of The Happy Hooker. What? More tea? Thanks. Joy pours her mother more iced tea. Hyping, resume. I need a synonym for heaving. Heaving. Throwing. Lurching, flinging, flinging breath. Heaving it is such a cliche. Hey, Mom. I'm proud of you. What for? For writing your book. Oh, I told you it's justice. I don't care. You did it. It's yours. That's really the only reason I want to read it. Don't worry. I'm busy. She type. Old George enters. She shuffles through the room lettering her voice bathing in and out of the sound of typing. That's taxes. That's taxes? Where dad's taxes? I have to find dad's taxes. Where are they? I have to have given them to her. I have to. I have to give them to her. But I've lost them. I don't know where dad's taxes are. Excuse me. Have you seen dad's taxes? No. I haven't. I'm sorry. I have to find them before it gets too late or she'll never forgive me. Dad's taxes. Dad's taxes. What the hell did I put dad's taxes? It has to be somewhere, dad's taxes. Thank you for staying. Where did you sleep? In her room with her. What's she saying? Dad's taxes. She's been repeating it all morning. Do you have any idea what that means? Not a clue. She's looking for something. My grandfather was incredibly disorganized. I have a hard time believing that he even kept his tax returns. Well, she really wants to find whatever it is. I'm not sure. When he died, my grandfather spent his last two weeks in a nursing home. We went to see him every day. He stayed with him in a kind of vigil and the atmosphere was so indescribably bleak. Urine and disinfectant. The hallway clogged with old men and women wandering. Vacant stairs. I don't want to die like this, Joy. She made me promise. Please. Don't let this happen to me, Joy. Okay? I want to die with dignity. So I promised. I don't want to waste away in some home. Mumbling gibberish. Young George crosses and puts a record on. I promised her that I would make sure that she left this world as the same strong, sassy woman she always was and that she wouldn't be alone. I never should have made that promise. Why? Because she is alone. She's completely alone. Look at her. She doesn't know who I am. I don't understand what she says, what she wants. I've tried to reach her, but nothing works. We were supposed to have time. But I was robbed, Anna. I was fucking robbed. She's only 63, so Dr. Bramlett thought we should be aggressive with her treatment. She was strong, and she wanted as much time as she could get. So we fought. She fought as hard as she could, just like she was supposed to. Cisplatin in a top aside. Then carboplatin, which is platinum. I found out. Liquid platinum pumped straight into your blood. And then two months later, two months, she started forgetting things. Little things first, then big things, then me. She was scared, so scared, and I tried to help her, but I couldn't because she didn't understand. Know what this is? But it certainly isn't dignity. Dignity is my job, Joy. That's what I'm here for. Joy finds a photo album and opens it. This is my favorite photograph. All four women in our family. It's beautiful. My great-grandmother, my grandmother, my mom, and me. My great-grandmother's 50th anniversary party. There was a professional photographer there, but this is just a snapshot. I have no idea who took it. We aren't looking at the camera. We're looking up to the right at something or someone. And we're laughing. And she's so beautiful and alive. She's in the middle of saying something. What is it? What's she saying? This is my mom. And I have to know what she's saying. This is a photograph. Joy. Can you tell me what she's saying, Anna? I have to know. Light state. Joy lecture. Google the term quantum jumping. What's the first hit? Quantum jumping. The interdimensional quest for a better you. Now, if you take the time to watch some of these videos and I totally don't recommend it, you'll learn how to jump from one potential you to another more creative and ambitious you through meditation and, of course, the purchase of a DVD master course and the technique for only a mere 99.95 plus shipping and handling. Think about it. Honestly, who wouldn't want to master transitioning from one world where everything sucks to another where everything is awesome? It's a very enticing prospect. And it's based in science, right? Bullshit. We cannot simply accept the beauty and the unfathomable qualities of nature. Oh no, we have to control them and make a buck if we can. And people fall for it all the time over and over again and they go to conferences and seminars and pay ridiculous amounts of money to strange gurus who say they can jump into alternate universes or cleanse your souls from the microscopic aliens that live within. Anyway, I have a theory. The only way we can accept the vastness of the universe, the only way we can hope to wrap our tiny little brains around it is to reduce it to a commodity, to control it, to put our tiny insignificant selves in the center so that we are its masters. We want so badly to control the universe that we're willing to cut it off at the knees to make it seem stupid and cheap and tawdry. Why do we do that? Light's faith. Light's rise on Joy's office. She sits at her desk and begins to type on her laptop. After a moment, she stops. She opens her briefcase and removes her knitting. Her project is several rows long, fairly sloppy, but she seems to be getting the hang of it. Move through the front door once around the back, peek through the window and off jumps Jack. Michael enters. I got your message. What's the emergency? Have you ever looked, I mean, really looked at the structure of knitting? It can't say that I have. It's amazing, really. Loop passing through loop, passing through loop, and it's all just one strand of yarn. Look at this. Joy, what's the emergency? Your message didn't make any sense. I mean, who sat down and really took the time to figure out how to do this? I thought you weren't in this afternoon. I'm not, but I couldn't stop thinking about chapter four. Chapter four? My chapter four. Entropy. How is that an emergency? Your argument is that the old idea of order to disorder is antiquated, right? That what we think of as disorder is actually a universe waking up to its infinite possibilities. Right? That's beautiful, but it's a lie. What? Things fall apart. The center cannot hold. A system reaches its pinnacle of beauty only to remain there for not even a fraction of a second, and then it begins to decompose to nothing. Movement through time means death. What about the degree of freedom of states of higher entropy? Degree of freedom, what does that even mean? It's statistical mechanics. Take my mother, for instance. Your mother? She's dying. Lung cancer. It can't be treated. No radiation, no surgery, and the chemo already killed her mind. She's delusional. We're just waiting for the body to die. What? So in your argument, her delusional state is actually the more desirable state as it represents a more diverse and unpredictable system. Joy. Even when she was in her physical prime and the system was more contained and predictable. So in your argument, when she shits her pants, it's simply a higher degree of freedom. Joy, stop. What? You told me your mother was already dead. No, I didn't. You said you'd lost her. I did, I have lost her. How are you doing? Are you okay? No, I'm not okay. Why didn't you tell me? Because I needed you not to know. What do you mean? You were my safe haven, Michael. But now you're suggesting that the unpredictability of disorder is what a closed system should aspire to, right? Stop this. So really, what does it matter? Talk to me. She kisses him hard. He stops her. Well, what's this? She kisses him again. He resists. Joy, joy, joy. What? Stop. No. We're not doing this. Kiss me or I'll scream. Very funny. You think I'm being funny? God damn you. I'll scream and then I'll fucking fail you. Do you hear me? What? I won't let you take the one thing in my life that makes sense. Jesus, Michael. Why did you have to follow him up with me? This is my world. I close the door and everything else goes away and there's no pressure to do or be anyone, anything to anyone. Here it doesn't stink or hurt and it's not decomposing or disappearing in front of me or shitting itself and I don't have to worry about losing you because it's just not that important. The doors are closed. I'm not terrified of what you're going to do or what you're going to say and it fucking makes sense because I know who we are. Joy, calm down. Shut up. Shut up. You think that I need you? I don't. I mean, you came here on some goddamn bet, right? Because you thought it would be fun to make a fucking mockery of my entire career cheapening everything I've worked for just to show off to a bunch of drunks in some bar who can't pull their heads out of their asses long enough to do something productive with their lives. Well, you know what? You can't. I'm in control here. You're the student and I'm the teacher. You have to do what I say because I know what's best. I always know what's best and I'm always right. And if you question me, if you question anything, then you won't pass. And that's no skin off my back. You want to know why? Because you're nothing special. Do you hear me? There are 20 other wannabes exactly like you, waiting in line behind you, dying to get into this place. Dying to study with me if you fail. And you will fail because you're nothing special. Joy roots around on her desk. She finds a box with the paper inside. She unfolds it and finds it. Give my regards to Caldwell. Michael takes the key off of his ring and tosses it onto the desk and exits. Life's fate. Joy lectures. When particles are not being observed or interacting with the environment, they have a nebulous, fuzzy existence characterized solely by the probability that one or another potentiality might be realized. Reality itself, then, is a hazy web of what? Information. An entanglement, remember that one particle is here and one is over there and they instantaneously exhibit the same behavior. No time, no vehicle of communication. Information is neither matter nor energy. It needs matter for embodiment and energy to do its bidding, but information itself is completely abstract. Think about that for too long and soon you'll realize that the moon itself doesn't really exist unless you're looking at it. Life's shit. Young George is on the phone ringing. Joy picks up. Joy? Oh, my God, Joy, is that you? Who is this? Joy, it's me. Mom, is that you? Oh, Jesus, God, Jesus, thank you. Hi, honey, it's so good to hear your voice. How on earth did you find me? It wasn't easy, believe me. What? I said it wasn't easy. I've been calling youth hostels all night. Are you okay? The director in Oxford said you were somewhere in the Highlands. I didn't know what else to do. Where the hell is Oven? What? Where's Oven? West Coast of Scotland. Oh. Wow, is it pretty? I bet it's pretty. What time is it there? A little after seven. It's one in the morning here. I know that. Mom, what's wrong? Are you okay? Are you there? It's Grandma, honey. What happened? She... Uh... Oh, Jesus. Joy, she died. Grandma died last night. A stroke. I've been trying to find you for hours. Are you there? Yeah. Mom, I'm here. I was getting ready for bed and I was watching the news and she called me. She wasn't making any sense. She was speaking gibberish. So I called 911 and they told me to meet them at the hospital and then they brought her in. But it was too late and I... I don't know, honey. What are you doing now? I'm talking to you. No, I mean, is anybody with you? No, I'm fine. Call Linda. Have her come over and stay with you until I get there. What? As soon as I get off the phone with you I'm calling someone. I don't know. I'll figure it out. I'm sure I can get a flight out of Edinburgh but I don't know when it'll be. No. In the meantime, call Linda or Phyllis to come and stay with you. I said no. What do you mean no? No. You're not coming home. Don't be ridiculous. You've only been there for two months, Joy. You're not coming home. Of course I'm coming home. Your stipend won't cover to send you back. If you come home now, that is it. You're giving it all up. So? Who cares? Joy, listen to me. Grandma is gone. You coming home isn't going to change that. She was so ridiculously proud of you, honey. You are the first person in our family to go to college. And you're at Oxford for God's sakes. A Rhodes scholar, the best of the best. If she were here, she'd tell you to stay. She'd insist on it. What about you? What about me? Who's going to take care of you? I don't need anyone to take care of me, Joy. Mom! I'm calling Uncle Bob in the morning, and my cousins will come in from Ohio, all six of them Jesus. Won't that be fun? And like you said, I've got Linda and Phyllis. This isn't right. There'll be too many people here, and there's a ton of arrangements to make. I should be there. You should be. Right where you are. You've worked your entire life to earn this opportunity, and I won't have you throw it away on my account. I'm not throwing it away. Is it pretty there? Yes. Are you traveling alone? I'm with Andrew and Paul. Oh, those two Austrians you wrote me about. Yes. On Walk About. Right? Isn't that great? Walk About? Sure. Are you being careful? Mom! Have them take you out for a pint. Or seven. Tell everyone in the bar stories. About us. The club. Right. You can celebrate her that way, okay? A huge Scottish weight. She'd love that. I mailed you another letter yesterday. I put some sprays of lavender in the envelope. You should see it this year. It's massive. Can you send me a picture? You bet. I'll call you when I get back to campus. You better. How long? A week. I love you, Mom. Love you too. Babe. I'm sorry. For what? Like babe. Lights up on the empty house. Joy enters with her briefcase. Mom? Mom, I'm home. Anna? Are you guys outside? You should be. It's beautiful out there. Where is everybody? Isn't she beautiful? Come and join us, Joy. What did you do to the lavender? It's gone. You dug it up. She wanted to... So you let her destroy it? What the hell's the matter with you? Why are you always yellow? It's a lovely day. We started digging over there and she was so happy and we were laughing and so we just kept digging and before... So if you had a time machine, where would you go? What would you change? Could you change things? Old George's voice in the darkness. But my hip hurts. I know, Mom. Did you go to the doctor like I told you to? The many worlds interpretation is just one way that we can think about it. The act of traveling back in time locks us out of those worlds where time travel isn't possible and then... He sent me to physical therapy. Are you doing your exercises? I can't. It hurts. Well, of course it hurts. It's physical therapy. It's supposed to hurt. You'll pose your free pull and rebel. What? Right? So when we think about staggering implications of multiple parallel universes, we begin to realize that the timeline, which we picture as extending into infinity from, say, right to left, might also extend up and down, infinite dimensions, stacked on top of each other. I'm just... I'm just so sad, Joy. What do you mean? I'm just in such a dark place. A dark place? What are you talking about? Mom? No. I'm fine, honey. I'm sure it's just the pain. Tell you what, let's go shopping on Saturday. You and me time, okay? Gotta go now. Mom? Mom, are you there? So, what does this mean for us now in the present? Should we even consider those choices we made that diverted the timeline irrevocably into a future that we didn't even want? That we didn't even think about the consequences that... I'm sorry. I can't... do this. Not today. Go home. Cross dismissed. She walks out of her lecture light. It slowly fades. Lights rise on Joy at home. She knits. After a moment, Anna enters. You're getting pretty good at that. Thanks. Is it any easier? A bit. You know, eventually you'll need to learn the purl stitch. I like doing this. It's only half of knitting. I know. She's stable now. Did she break it? Her head? How bad? Bad. They're talking surgery, okay? No. Anna hands Joy a piece of paper. She's in room 1715. Debbie's her nurse until morning. Anna exits into the kitchen. She returns with several bags. What are you doing? Another nurse will be on call and she returns from the hospital. What? Why? I'm done. But, Anna... I can't work with you. What? I'm stumped, Joy. I don't know what to do. You don't trust me. You certainly don't respect me. What? You sure as hell don't respect your mother. Where are you? She was happy. Joy happy. When was the last time that you heard her laugh like that? A genuine, honest to God laugh. She was delusional. How would you know? You were more concerned about a goddamn plant than you were about your mother. My mother loved those plants. So? She planted that lavender when I was 12. She worked on it every single year. Babying it, weeding it, caring for it. And the smell, oh my God. We could get drunk on the smell. Fucking plants, Joy. Her plants, not yours. They are mine. They're ours. Everything here is ours. It was always just the two of us. I don't know where she ends and I begin. It all dies with me, Anna. The entire family. All of these beautiful women, the club. When I was born, mom gave up everything to take care of me. She gave up her own life so I could do whatever I wanted with mine. So I chose to live in my head and think big thoughts and chase stars that are so goddamn far away. I'll never get to them. I chose things that don't matter. I gave her nothing in return. She was proud of you. So what? She should have had grandchildren. She should have taught them to grow flowers and dance to Joni Mitchell. She should have had long talks with her granddaughter about boys and life and being true to yourself. Everything she did for me. I should have continued the family, made it bigger, given back to her what she gave to me, but I was just too fucking selfish. I always thought there'd be plenty of time, you know? And there was always the next thing, the next degree, then a job, then tenure, then promotion, then friends, but it does end. I missed my chance to give back to the one person who means anything to me. Don't forget to take out the trash. That was the last thing that I said to my mother. Don't forget to take out the trash. We were on the phone and my daughters were yelling at each other in the other room and the dog was barking and the TV was blaring and I said, don't forget to take out the trash. I hung up without saying goodbye. That night she died of a heart attack in her sleep, the exact way that she wanted to go peacefully and without pain, but I was furious. I still am. She was gone in an instant. Your mother is still here, Joy. She's not. Why? I lost her months ago. Because she doesn't make any sense and she yells and cries and has blood under her fingernails and she smells like piss and vomit. So what? That's life. It's her life and it's all over her. It's my fault. The whole thing. Her cancer, all of it. Holy and undeniably, my fault. It's not about you. Last year she had a cough. A tiny little cough but it wouldn't go away. She complained to me about it and I told her to go to the doctor but she didn't. She said it was just her sinus was acting up so I let it go. And then she started complaining about her hip hurting. She tricked down a step and strained her muscles but the pain wouldn't go away. I talked to her on the phone and rolled my eyes because I was busy and she was being stubborn again. And she told me she was going to physical therapy and I told her to push through the pain. I should have left work that minute and gone to see her but no, I was too damn busy. Another afternoon she called me and told me she was in a dark place and she didn't know how to get out. I didn't understand what she meant. I could have taken a minute with her but no. I thought she just needed cheering up so I made an appointment. I made a fucking appointment with my own mother to go to lunch and go shopping and if I'd given it just an ounce of thought I would have realized that she couldn't even go shopping because of the pain to see her, to look at her to recognize her pain in the warning signs and do everything I possibly could to pull her out of that dark place. I guess it's poetic justice really that she doesn't know me. She doesn't recognize me. It's what I deserve. I didn't recognize her but I understand time, Anna. Somewhere my mother, not this empty shell is out there. There's a history where I listen to her when she tells me she doesn't feel well. There's a timeline where I listen to her and we go to the doctor in plenty of time and we find the cancer early and she can have surgery and she can live for 20 or 30 more years. That's the history I want. You can't have it. We all want a time machine, joy and hell maybe it's even possible but there's not a goddamn thing that you can do about it now and it doesn't change the fact that your mother is here right now hanging on waiting for you. What? She's waiting for you, Joy. She's waiting for you to say goodbye. I told you, Anna, I'm not spiritual. I know you're a skeptic and that's how you do your job. You've got to trust me on this because this is my job. Your mother is waiting for you and she is going to stay here in infinite pain for as long as she can until you let her go. I can't say goodbye to someone who doesn't know me. You said it yourself. You don't know where she... where you end and she begins. Do you honestly think that connection would just randomly disappear? Where would it go? You just have to find the key and you're not going to find it by blaming yourself and running away. This is her shadow of self, her living contradiction. Earth in space. Flowers and feces. Beautiful disease. Sublime and messy. Go and see her now. Really. See her. Before it's too late. Listen to what she says. It may not make any sense to you but that doesn't matter. It's her and she will know you. What if she doesn't? She will. What if I can't do it? Then you are missing out on something truly magnificent and immense, terrifyingly immense. Anna picked up her bag. Don't go. Please. She shows Anna her knitting. What happens when I'm done? Take it off the needle. It's called binding off. Binding off. Show me. Anna smiles and puts down her bag. Lights fade. Lights rise. Low, middle of the night. Young George and silhouette. Mom? Joy Honey, what is it? Are you okay? What's wrong? Mom, where are you? I need you. I'm right here. What happened? You're shaking all over. I flew. What? First you would. Let me tell you something. Joy Gallagher. And I want you to listen. You fly. You hear me? Fly. As far as you want to. And don't let anyone or anything hold you back. You can do whatever you want. And I'll be damned if missing little old me is going to keep you from it. But, but nothing. From the moment you were born, Joy, I've been letting go of you. Over and over and over again. I gave birth to you. I held you tight. And you wanted down. I put you down and you wanted to walk. I held your hand and you wanted to run. If you want to fly, then I'll give you wings. But what about you? I have my own wings. Then why don't you fly away? Someday I will. But not today. You know what I want? What? I want chocolate chip cookies. Now? Let's bake cookies. Are you insane? It's two in the morning. Lights rise on a hospital bed. Joy crosses to her mother. How are you feeling? How you and I could spend some time together. Would you like that? Do you need anything? I have something for you. Joy reaches into her bag and removes the small scar she's been knitting. Look what I did. It's for you. Can I put it on? Joy delicately wraps the small scar around her mother's shoulder. Anna taught me to knit. Turns out I'm pretty good at it. I have an idea. Joy crosses to her bag and removes the manuscript. My new book. Maybe we can talk and proof at the same time? Let's see. Quantum entanglement represents the extent to which measurement of one part of a system affects the state of another. For example, measurement of one electron influences the state of another that may be far away, not physically connected in any way. She makes the note citation valence. In recent years, scientists have realized that entanglement is present in varying degrees in solid materials, and it is known that two entangled electrons exhibit evidence of their entanglement immediately. During this, George has become uncomfortable. She fidgets and whines. Mom? Mom, what is it? Are you okay? Joy goes to George and puts her hand on her forehead, checking her fever. She pulls the blanket up over her. Better? Gee, is that bad, huh? My book is about this phenomenon called entanglement. It's so strange nobody can explain it. Two separate things, electrons, photons, are connected so that they behave the same no matter how far apart they are. They can be separated by an entire universe and still behave the same way at the same time, like distant reflections of each other, always. No matter how far. She opens her bag and removes the bottle of lotion. She rubs it on George's hand. Chanel number five, your favorite, remember? Share the fantasy and love that smell. It reminds me of our you and me time. I used to sit on the toilet seat and watch you get ready. You'd let me choose your eye shadow and we'd talk about everything and loved those talks, mom. Another idea. Joy rises and finds the CD player. She takes the CD out of her bag and puts it in. This one is my favorite. You taught me how to slow dance to this, remember? Before prom, God, I was so nervous. What was his name? Ted? Terry? Wonder where he is now. Joy smiles and sits down next to her mother. George hears the music. As she listens, her hand reaches for Joy. Mom, is it too loud? Am I dreaming? Not unless I am, too. It's you. It's really you. I love this song. So do I. I love you. I love you, too. Mom, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. For what? For not hearing you. He tried to tell me and I was too busy. I didn't understand. I didn't understand either. I'm sorry. So am I. What for? Stubborn. It's not your fault, you know. But... It's nobody's fault. It just is. Do you need anything? Just this. Remember that book I wrote? That silly romance novel? Yes. I think you're old enough now. Do you still want to read it? Oh, yes. Yes, I do. It's in a box in the attic labeled Dad's Taxes. Taxes. Oh, my God. That's what you were looking for. Remember how disorganized your grandfather was, didn't you? Seriously. Would you ever look inside that box? How about something a little more upbeat? Sure. Joy crosses to the CD player and presses a button. Big yellow taxi plays. That's more like it. Used to call this the parking lot song. George Riser. Lights shift. Warm. Mom, what are you doing? I'm fine, Joy. Look at me. Right as rain. Dance with me. They dance since she's seen shit. Joy lectures. No one really knows how the art of knitting was invented. It was probably discovered by accident. Someone was playing around with string or rope and realized that a strong flexible fabric could be formed by looping the string or rope through itself. There are no written records and textiles themselves don't last long enough for us to determine any archaeological evidence. So we're forced to use our imagination to determine when in our history that magical moment might have occurred. You're all looking at me like I'm nuts. Dude, why is she going on about knitting? She's finally gone off the deep end. Or more importantly, is this going to be on the test? Life is so much more than a test, right? Pag your indulgence for just a little while and if you listen carefully, there might be some extra credit at the end. If you're wearing a sweater or scarf, I want you to take a look at it. Really take a look at it. Share it with your neighbor. If you're wearing a t-shirt, that'll work too. It'll just be really, really small. Look closely. What do you see? Loops. Loops passing through loops, passing through loops, that garment, that sweater, scarf, t-shirt, whatever was woven from a single string. A simple string winds around and around and around itself until its properties change. If I'm knitting in the round, one twist and I make a mobius. Infinity. Literally. Keep twisting and I can make a collab-yowl shape. And you know what that is, right? String theory. That's definitely going to be on the test. It's no accident, I think, that the permeating metaphor for space and time is fabric. The fabric of the cosmos. It's all interconnected. When you pull on a loop over here, it unravels until the stitch falls out all the way over here. And this can explain entanglement, one of the greatest mysteries of quantum physics. So this craft, rooted in our oldest traditions, handed down from grandmother to mother to daughter, plus the nature of infinity. The simplest of necessities, an article of clothing, teaches us something significant about space and time. The practical collides with the theoretical, we're tethered to the earth and the immensity of history is made manifest in a single, silken strand of yarn. Loop passing through loop, passing through loop until it becomes a strong and flexible and lovely fabric. And it keeps you warm, too. Michael emerges. Oh, ha! Oh, wow! Nice lecture. Thank you. Look, I just came by. Well, I saw the obituary in the paper. I'm sorry. Yeah, funeral looked last week. I'm kind of at a loss, you know, all this time on my hand. Sure. Michael, I am so, so sorry. None of it. I don't even know how to begin to apologize for what I said, how I behaved. Don't. Oh, okay. No, I mean, now's not the time. We have a lot to discuss. Are you still working at the bar? Yes. Can I come by sometime? If you want to. I do. Good. That's good. Anytime. So, I guess I'll see you then. He smiles and then exits. Lights shift to the house. A parcel waits by the garden. Joyce buys it and looks around for whomever left it. She opens it. Inside is a shawl. The same one Anna was knitting at Act One. Joyce puts it on and then hails. She finds her mother's gardening tools. She can filth an old paperback. Lavender plants can tolerate many growing conditions, but it thrives in warm, well-drained soil and full sun. It looks full to me, Jesus. That's bright. Lavender is a tough plant, an extremely drought resistant once established, but when first starting your lavender, don't be afraid to give it a handful of compost in the planting soil and keep them regularly watered during the growing season. Joy looks at the dirt. As she does, old George and young George enter, wearing identical hats, aprons, gloves and shoes. Joy cannot see her mother or hear what they say. She speaks to her memory. Okay. There goes nothing. She digs. Do you remember when I was going to name her Raquel? After that actress. Yes. Oh my lord. I forgot about that. I'm pretty sure I didn't inherit your green thumb. I was only 20, what the hell did I know? Who knows anything at 20? And then she was born. I took one look at her. And there was joy. So much joy that spilled out of me and all over her. So that was her name. I've been trying to wrap my brain around something. I can't tell anyone on campus because they'll think I'm crazy. Definitely not Raquel. Dodge the bullet there. During the funeral I had this, I don't know, vision, I guess, or a daydream. Let's call it that. Sound less apocryphal. No judging. So in this dream I saw you. You were right there in the church next to the pastor who was going on about eternal life. You were dancing. You smiled at me, waved, and then you dissolved into a million tiny pieces. They looked like bubbles. It was lovely. And these bubbles of you swirled out into the church and then flew out of the window into the universe. You diffused, but you didn't disappear. You were still you. And you were everywhere, orbiting Alpha Centauri, racing on the tail of a comet, craving a grilled cheese sandwich. You were you. Millions of self-aware little bubbles of you. It's something like that. And nothing like that. Time isn't even a factor. There is no time. The particles are separate, but also the same. So one bubble of you is here next to me, and another bubble of you is having the grandest interstellar adventure. And both of you still know me. Both of you still laugh at my lame jokes. All of your little soul bubbles are on this massive, epic journey. So happy to explore the universe. So happy to think about me. Little old me, down here on this tiny planet, digging a hole in the ground. And they love me fiercely. All of the young George sit on the ground next to Joy. I love you. Fiercely. So that's what I want. I'm still me, and you're still you. And when we die, it's as simple as breathing. As simple as me with my head in your lap. You stroking my hair as every mother throughout history has ever done. As simple as that. But still as profound and magnificent as everything. Can I have that? Yes. I hope so. I really do like the end of play. Any other sense as far as, you know, writing that to that time and that place? Thank you. Thank you. What did you say? Congratulations. Congratulations. What else? Another comment? Yes, sir. It grabs you. It grabs you. Another fireball time travel. What is this? I'm going to tell you we had this, it was a prerequisite to getting a laser here. Something you could sign. What else? Just up top of your head. What are you feeling right now? What characters are resounding with you right now? What's on your mind? Very familiar. Say what? Very familiar. Very familiar? Very familiar. Did it help? Yeah? Did anybody else feel like that? Yeah. Yeah? Yeah? I'd like to see a teacher learn something. Isn't it great to see a teacher learn something? Perhaps my favorite comment goes off. I really like the knitting and the fabric and the string theory. Not bad. When we're together, I'm very intrigued with that, pulling all of that together. Kind of makes sense for you in some way. Anybody else? I'd love to know. I'm really curious about having just seen it for the first time. What's something that comes immediately to mind that you think you're really going to remember? What moment in the story? What point in the play do you think really rang a particular bell with you? Maybe it was a particular conversation or a particular turning point for a character or something about a character? What do you think really rang your bell? Yes. She was so angry with Michael. Yeah? I was angry with her. And then as she went on, I began to say, oh, she is so, so sad. Yeah? You think of that? Different. I really liked it when the caregiver or the nurse went, I just was ready for you to just smack her. If you're a family, then why am I here? I mean, if you care so much, would you hire me for it? I was waiting for you to either say that or throw something in his ghost. Hello? So I like that part. Cool. What else? I want to struggle with she and his family. I really connected with mother and how it was really that anger at her mother stillness and how she didn't get to have her mother the way she was before. Thank you. Cool? Yes, sir. I enjoyed the struggle with the TV or lectures with all this other stuff piling on her. So it was such a character flaw or endearment, however I look at her. I am going to do my job. This is what I do no matter what's collapsing around me. And that was an interesting theme for the whole thing, no matter what was going on. She was still lecturing and trying to educate these people. She really clung to that, her lifeline, with all this chaos and going around with a couple of thematically. I thought that was interesting. Yeah, yeah. Yes, sir. Sarah, do you want to see her on Twitter, so she'd love to do a certainty entanglement versus her not seeing her own tangles? Oh. Go Twitter. Yeah, go Twitter. Hi. Think about Joy. If you have to describe her, what kind of person did you take her to be? Controlled. Controlled? Controlling. Stay away. Overachiever. Overachiever, controlling. What else? Stay away. Brilliant, but insecure. Typical. Female professor. Insecure and yet overachiever intellectually and trying to do all of that and yet other stuff has fallen aside in relationship with the mother and with Michael. Good. Thank you. How do we feel about the character of George, young and old? What's your take on her? How did you describe her? I feel like seeing where they were, where they intersected. Yeah. When they were both reacting to each other when they reacted to the same kind of things. I really liked it. Now, and they got to mention to you before we started that our playwright, Jen, she's actually dead. I know you think she's sitting right here, but she's not, so we can talk about her while she's not. And so I'd love for you to be, let us know if there was any moment in the play where you weren't sure what was going on or you were confused by something. Were there any, just in terms of following the sequence of events because there's kind of back and forth with young and old and all that kind of stuff. Were there any moments that weren't clear for you at all? None. Okay. The hardest part for me was how clear she became when she went to the hospital. Here's this woman that's been landlending. Yeah. And all of a sudden she's got this clarity and that was almost too homophish or just... It didn't bring quite true to the... I mean, I could have taken a little clarity but it was... So that's how it fell on you as you were experiencing it normally. Right, right, right. But that didn't bring true that moment even though I wanted it to and I knew what she was trying to go for, it was... Okay, good. Yes, ma'am. But I've seen that kind of clarity with the friends of mine who are communicating and then there's suddenly a moment of clarity shortly before they die and they're around each other. She couldn't get off this broken hand. She wouldn't have been able to get off this broken hand? Not that part, the dancing part. Yeah, right. I'm realistic. Anybody else have any... Any moments of lack of clarity for you about... Stop. I accepted that clarity and dancing as her death moment so it wasn't literal. I think in the stadium you might find that there would be enough theatricality about the moment that you would understand that you're passing. I see. At least that's what I thought. My experience with my own mother's death was very similar to that in another plane. Oh, yeah? When the reality was her body was dying but suddenly there was some amazing acidity and physical vibrance that we hadn't seen in her dying state. But in that state it's different. She was just staging it because she danced by herself at the moment she was leaving. So we would think that in the staging of it we would find a way to embrace the metaphor of it rather than making it literal. I got all that with just reaching out and holding hands. I didn't need the dialogue or the dancing. Everything that was said and felt in that moment of contact. I truly did. Thank you. Thank you. In that scene I liked that she didn't know how to talk to her mother and she was breathing the fruit and you don't know what to say. And if she's gone through all of this she's not really there anyway but she don't know what to say. But she got there. Yeah. Yeah. Another one from the internet? Yeah. Maybe she was being honest and I love both of her versions of George. She was a mother and a child. Mother and a child. You can capture both of those sides. When you talk to your friends tomorrow and you say, I just saw this. It makes you play last night and it was about... What are you going to say? What does it play about for you? Love. About love? About science. Love and science? What do you think of the science? Knitting. Well-meaning, interesting, just enough. Just interesting. Relationships. And relationships, all right? I think it's a lot about women. Yeah. And I'm interested in seeing how it further develops with the male character because I think that opens up a lot of delers to women's relationships with men and I think that could be fleshed out a little more because maybe the women were fantastic. And not that you weren't fantastic. And I think the writing, because this is about writing, I think the fleshing out of the male character with the female, and I think it's needed. I mean, after watching the construction of it, that'll be interesting to see. Yeah. We're mainly laughing because Patrick's like it's every reading in the test. Linda, it's fun to laugh at that. I mean, I want to see what goes on. Absolutely. Yes, sir. I thought it was very believable that young George and old George were the two sides of the same character. But that was quite easily believable. I didn't quite believe when she threw him out. I mean, that didn't quite compute for me. Do you guys have any response to the relationship with Joy and Michael? It was totally believable to me because it seemed like the one thing that she could control could control. That's from her perspective. Right. So I was looking from his perspective, and I don't even know if you would be that forgiving at the end. I know he said, yeah, we'll work it out at the end, but there's something, I don't know what the answer is. No, but that's just fine. That's how it fell on you. So that's what we need to know. What are your responses to that? Yes, ma'am. Well, it seemed believable that she would do something stupid like that. But I thought it was pretty stupid that what she was doing. And I wanted him to somehow fight for her somehow. And I wanted it to somehow help her with her mother, not just dump him so she could deal with her mother. I sort of wanted that relationship to somehow help her deal with her mother, but that didn't happen. So then at the end, I wasn't really sure whether she's really going to go to the bar ever, and they would actually form a relationship later. Now that she's dealt with her mother, I wasn't quite sure if that was true. Okay, thanks. To raise the stakes of more stress for her that she has to deal with and rely on the rest of the characters. Thank you. Thank you. Let's talk about what's the highlight for you? What's the one moment in the play that you'd like to go back and see in it? When Anna told her that it's going to be immense, and she better do it, and she will know it. Because I've been a pastor. I'm retired now, but I have had experiences where the music and the moment, it happened. It's not a safety thing. It doesn't always happen, I'm sure. But that was a moment I liked and it was believable enough because of the baggage I bring to it, I guess. I like that. Good, thank you very much. Sarah Jordan-Morsey said beginning in Wonder, putting Wonder in a box, dissolving the box, filling awesome echoes of it in her language. And then Cooping Warner says it's about saying goodbye the only way we can. Thank you. I just don't know what he's doing. I just don't know what he's doing. I just don't know what he's doing. I just don't know what he's doing. I just don't know what he's doing. Now my wife has explained that to me. Oh my God! And then there's all kinds of commentary. Oh, I forgot. She was lecturing. This is the same childhood song. I hope that really runs through. Yeah, it's as a nice lady as a young man. That reminds me of her. She's that old guy I hope you like. He played with violence. He was just as demanding as he could be. Roya and Co. We could still play. When he got on stage, he was still Roya. But he was not. He had a keeper with him at all times. He just took care of him and even in the right direction. Wow. Alright, well we're going to bring Jen back to life so you guys get a chance to meet her. So come on up to the stage. And where did it come from? Obviously, there's a lot of personal stuff at work here. And writing this play was something I had to do that also kind of terrified me at the same time. But I was, my mom, I lost her a couple of years ago to this lung cancer and chemotherapy induced dementia. And we were, I would go down every Friday to spend time with her during the last summer of her life. And we were having, we just weren't talking to each other. We just weren't communicating. We just weren't connecting. I would sit with her, hold her hand, but there was no really meaningful conversation between us at all. And that's all we did. We talked our entire lives together. We just talked about everything. Wow, this is hard. Okay. But, so one day I got an idea. Another thing that she really enjoyed doing with me when I would visit was we would ride in the car together because the movement was soothing and she loved looking out the window and there were all sorts of, you know, images and things for her to look at. And we would never talk during these drives. But at one point I thought, well let's, let me see what happens if I introduce music into this equation. And so I made a playlist of songs that I knew she liked and that we listened to, just all kinds of songs, mostly stuff from the 70s. And we were driving along and Joni Mitchell's both Sight and Out came on. And I had my hand on the gear shift and I'm looking at the road and then her hand was on mine. And I looked at her and she knew me. And she did. And, you know, I said, hi mom, she said hi baby and it was pretty much that scene, you know. And so it does happen, you know, for those of you who have dealt with dementia, it does happen. It's an error that it happens. And that was the genesis of this play. And I miss her so much. So there you have it. So here's Jen. And she's willing to answer any questions you might have of her, either about the play itself or about what the process has been like and putting the play together, you know. I promise I won't miss. Where she bought those cool shoes. I'm good. She's good. She's good. So what do you want to know? What can Jen tell you? How old is Joy? In the play, I have her as 30s slash 40s. So the idea is it can be played by, yeah, it can be played by an actress of, I say late 30s or early 40s. I mean, one of the things that I do as a playwright is I love making really great, meaningful, meaty roles for women. Female protagonists. Thank you. And so the idea that she's the one in the center of this dilemma, it was really interesting to hear you comment about Michael because he was a little bit of a late addition to the process. And as Nate can tell you from early lab time, I really resisted having them romantically entangled with each other. I resisted that because I didn't want to define her through this relationship. And I thought, well, wouldn't it be really fascinating if we just switched it? Because a lot of times in plays about relationships, it's the woman wanting to be with the man and the man not wanting to commit and all of that, and we see that all the time. And I thought, well, what if we switch it? What does that do? What if it's the man who really wants to take care of her and she won't let him do it? Because she's been told that that's not strong and stuff like that. So it became really interesting, and I agree with you. I think that as I work on the play further, I want to find out more about who he is. No, I mean, it was really, I mean, her, she's defined, like, his response to her was, there's something that I wanted more. Sure. Like, I wanted him not to be as, he's definitely got an identity, but I wanted that really fleshed out. Sure, sure. Because all the other characters are so fleshed out. Right, and one of the hardest things for me to do was what we've been calling the Coda, which is after George dies and he, when we have the lecture and then he comes back, I really do want him to come back because I want there to be some sort of hope that these two who are obviously, I think, really awesome together can have a future together and that it's okay if he doesn't finish his dissertation and it's okay, I mean, if they just live their lives together and be happy. So I want that hope. So I'm still, I think I'm still trying to figure out how to make that happen. I think that's important structure. Yeah, yeah, yeah. You thought about melting young George's pheromone, is it what he comes in? Staging of a play, if you're interested to see the reflection of who she's with follows this other relationship. That's an interesting idea too. It's, it's, I, yeah, I don't want to bore our play. Yeah, absolutely. No, seriously. Nate, when he looked at the last draft, he's like, dude, there's so much in here. I said, yes, I know, we got to start cutting this. Yeah, because you're right. I mean, it's, it is something I would love. Yeah. You're a character to the prequel. The prequel. That's right. There's actually early in the lab, way early in the lab, there was a version of this play with another, with another man who was, was Joy's father who came out of nowhere and then there was this whole thing and then I had this really big monologue and he was this Vietnam vet and it was really huge and I was like, okay, well, now the play is about him. That's just kind of awesome. So he's going to come back in another play. Oh, good. Yeah. Oh, that would be cool. That's right. I'm sorry to take. I just love what you did with Anna. I mean, with the connection around the knitting and the love that she brought. Anna is kind of an amalgamation. There's a little bit of me and Anna. There's a lot of my sister, you know, who was a caretaker for my mom for a while during the end and she was so patient and so wise and so, yeah. The more I work on Anna, the more I just fall in love with her and Mary just did an awesome job. I like that Anna learned, I mean, that she brought to her role as a caretaker in the nurse what she learned from the way she lost her mother. That was very, very well done and it wasn't, it was just sort of short to the point and it stuck. I was just going to say, the one thing to tagline with the male character, well, I was really, it's how she relates to other humans. She's either relating with students or her mother and now she has an opportunity to actually deal with people who are very equal and she can't deal with her. She has to belittle her and then she finally stands up for herself and puts her, you know, they finally, but what I didn't get to see is where that's, you know, how does she deal with the male? Whether it turns into a romantic relationship or not, you know, great or no, but just to see how she can deal with the opposite sex because she, either way, she has to be able to deal with people her own age. How does she deal with them? Because from what you've set it up as, she has been raised by a single parent and it's just them against the world which definitely creates that control factor. That's the thing I was lacking. The equal sign, sorry, equal weight to the male side just to see what happens. Yes, ma'am. His issue, though, about the mentor and the senior advisor as opposed to his job as a student, that's a very real issue. And he was a realist who said, you know, we can't continue this. I mean, I'd like to be with you, but we can't take any more chances. She was dismissing that as not a real issue. I wouldn't quite, you know, it is a real issue. Oh, yeah, it is. Yeah, you're hearing that role. Yeah, tell the teacher. What life experience did that come from? No. Tell him repeatedly that I have not had an affair with a senior advisor. That was pure fiction. You're tales around the college campus. Believe me, I know. So what happened to these noxious students? Okay, you got a D and that's all. Oh, Nick Jagger. Yeah, are you guys interested in that? I mean, basically it kind of did go away. And an earlier version of the play, it became this huge thing that she had to deal with and he filed this official complaint and it got fired and all of that. And I didn't want the play to be about that. I think I can probably bring back some of that complexity a little bit, but basically she, in my head at least, she had enough students. It was just like what Michael said. You know, I can think of 20, 50 undergraduates who had put it all on the line. When they found out she was having trouble, it was a campaign that basically said she's awesome, so don't let this be a problem. So that may come back. I would like that line at some point after she's had the professor or the dean and you are, I think they should say the dean got all these letters from the other students. Originally, and this actually, I wrote the new Michael scene like a couple of days ago, that was a fully fleshed out scene. That was a big scene. Not big, but it was, he came back and they hashed it out, they argued a little bit and then we learned about the letter writing campaign and all of that. And it almost seemed like the play had three endings. I was trying to kind of condense it to make the ending itself, which is in the garden with the moms, be more impactful. Because with all that before it, then we get to the ending, we're kind of like, okay, is the play over yet? I'll have to kind of take a closer look at that. Yes, sir. I always wonder, what it is that the playwright really, once an audience member, take home? What would be your major thrust? Because I was jumping all over with all kinds of wonderful things, but what was your intent? My intent was to to make you all want to hug your moms or think about your moms or think about friends that you have that may be suffering or family members that may be suffering from dementia. And don't do what I did, which is to try and figure it out. You know, to fix it. I tried to problem-solve my way through the entire thing. You just can't do that. And so probably that, I would say. And my own view of the universe is that it's bigger and grander than we could ever figure out. And so I like people to walk away from my place at least thinking about that and thinking about how grand and marvelous this world is and how we are small, but we are also integral to each other and important to each other. I think it's a lovely way to end. Shall we applaud? Let's do this.