_ME and HIM are sitting at home, in sofa-chairs in the dim-gold light of the living room._ HIM: I’m feeling divorced from the whole success–failure continuum; I’m being struck afresh by images in their immediacy, devoid of any societal judgment and unencumbered by arbitrary systems of reward and sanction. ME: No you’re not. HIM: Hmm. Well, maybe not. But it sounds like a good idea. _There is a pause of about an hour._ ME: You want a cigarette? HIM: Sure thanks. _They smoke. There is a pause of about an hour._ HIM: Do you suppose . . . ME: Yes? _During the following speech, ME sits forward a bit, listening perkily._ HIM: _[almost gaspingly]_ Do you suppose there is a way to redeem ourselves for how gapingly tepid and insipid our lives have been so far, any way to break out of the personal and professional jello-moulds we’ve let ourselves be consigned to, any way to begin without prior training and despite continuous conditioning to flagrantly insist on the aliveness of our own existence, to paint our own meanings on every tree trunk and leaf, to say, god damn this world for a ridiculous, animated computer adventure, and begin living as if we got points for uncovering clues, for looking at everything, for pushing all the buttons and interrogating all the characters? Could we, in short, learn at this instant, because it may be the only one there is, to ride dragons and breathe fire? ME: No. HIM: Ah. _They slump back in their chairs. There is a pause of about an hour._