SCENE SIX

SCENE SIX

In an empty space, Julia is doing a one-on-one pilates session with Hilary. Hilary’s mind is not on it.

Julia You’re not right.

Hilary Sorry.

Julia Leave your work in the office.

Hilary Yes.

We’ve got this test going... escape options from testing for pain thresholds on a volunteer, that’s the story, using electric shocks... and Jerry Krohl’s daughter walked in on...

Julia I didn’t know he had a daughter.

Hilary Nor did I, but he does. School-age like Catherine. Her name’s Catherine. She saw, she was upset seeing... She thought the girl was being tortured. You should have seen her face.

Julia But you explained, didn’t you?

Hilary Of course. I think so. Yes.

Julia Then why are you holding on to it?

Pause.

It must have happened often enough, girls with the same name.

Hilary You don’t get used to it.

Julia I suppose you don’t.

Hilary interrupts the exercise and sits up to address Julia directly.

Hilary Julia, can you remember?

Julia What?

Hilary The Purple Gang.

Julia Yes.

Hilary We were bullies. Weren’t we?

Julia No!

No more than we were bullied!

Hilary We used to gang up on the ones who were... you know...

Julia Gimpy.

Hilary Gimpy. Peggy Potter was gimpy because her mother knitted her school jumpers. I used to make Gillian Meadows cry because the gang said I had a crush on her, which I did.

Julia Stop it. (Upset.) Schoolgirls!

Hilary But who can I trust her with? Who can I trust not to make her cry, flicking her behind the knees with a wet towel like we used to, rampaging through the changing rooms after games?

Julia Buck up, Hilly. If that’s Catherine’s only problem.

Hilary I missed her like half of me from the first day, and the worst thing was, there was literally nothing I could give her, do for her, she’d just gone, and then I thought up something I could do, just to, just to be good, so that in return someone, God, I suppose, would look after her.

Julia (pause) Do you believe in God?

Hilary I have to.

But I’ll tell you what, though. Everyone should say a prayer every day, anyway, for who you love, just because it puts them in your diary. For ages now, I’ve gone for weeks without thinking of Catherine. Months. I’ve been letting her go, as though I’d swapped her for a doctorate. Oh, Julia...

She hugs and holds Julia.

Ursula enters, unfussed, good-humoured.

Ursula Git yer haynds off mah woman.

Hilary (disengaging) Ursula, I need to ask you something. Could the cosmos be teleological?

Ursula Oh, fuck a duck.

No. Why?

(To Julia.) Teleological, sweet pea, having a purpose, nothing to do with the telly.

Julia Don’t patronise me, you dyke, you’re on my patch.

Hilary How about panpsychism?

Ursula No. Nature isn’t conscious. Trees are not conscious.

Hilary Functionalism?

Ursula No. A thermostat is not even a tiny bit conscious. Have you been reading after lights out?

Hilary What about quantum-level brain processes to explain consciousness?

Ursula She has!

Hilary Will you show me how Gödel’s Proof means a brain can’t be modelled on a computer?

Ursula You wouldn’t know Gödel’s Proof if it had suspenders in Selfridge’s window.

Hilary Ursula, I need you to show me!

Ursula Now?

Hilary No, not now. Sundays and evenings, tutorials.

Julia Oh, thanks.

Ursula Why?

Hilary (excited) For a conference paper – sort of – with a summer vac stitched on, is what I’m thinking.

Julia Lovely. Where?

Hilary Venice!

Julia Venice!

Hilary Leo’s giving the status paper for the Krohl, big psycho conference in June, and he blagged them into giving me a place on a round-table on consciousness.

Ursula and Julia catch each other’s eye, and stare deadpan at Hilary: ‘Wake up! – He wants to bed you.’

What?

She catches on, rolls her eyes.

No way! Leo? No way!

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