Alex, and Laurie, in a room, furnished with a narrow bed and a chair. Alex sits on the chair. Laurie is in bed.
| ALEX: | How do you know that? |
|---|---|
| LAURIE: | Because I've had past lives. |
| ALEX: | Past lives. |
| LAURIE: | Sure, Alex. I used to be - well, I was an Egyptian queen. I was Tutankhamun's grandmother. Plus I was a Romanian countess around the time of the revolutions over there in the 1800s. |
Alex looks at her.
| LAURIE: | Yeah, although I shouldn't talk about it. |
|---|---|
| ALEX: | Why not? |
| LAURIE: | It brings bad karma. |
| ALEX: | How? |
| LAURIE: | I dunno. It just does. If you've been Tutankhamun's grandmother, it's best to keep it zipped. Other people might get jealous. (Pause) But you know, it kind of makes you feel good about yourself, all the same. To know you've been all these things. Felt all these things. Taken part in so many lives. I've really taken part. Taken part in history. In the Divine Dance. |
| ALEX: | What are you talking about? |
| LAURIE: | I've taken part in the Divine Dance. Ain't it great? |
| ALEX: | It's bullshit, Laurie. |
| LAURIE: | It's not bullshit. This woman at Mardi Gras told me. And she was an honest-to-God Louisiana witchdoctor. A Voodoo High Priestess. |
| ALEX: | Funny isn't it, how everyone who has a past life is always special. Always someone famous. Byron or Princess Anastasia or someone like that. Why can't you be one of the millions and billions of perfectly ordinary people who've lived totally uneventful lives? A blacksmith, for example. Or a farm-hand. Or a - what is it - (says the word with satisfaction) an ostler. Yes, why can't you be an ostler? |
| LAURIE: | 'Cos I don't know what one is? |
| ALEX: | So instead you have to be a Romanian Countess. |
| LAURIE: | The thing is with famous people is, the vibrations are greater. |
| ALEX: | Huh? |
| LAURIE: | The vibrations are greater. When you've been famous. When you've been someone really big and glamorous and fascinating, like a Romanian countess or whatever, with a whole court to attend to and men running hither and thither after you, then the vibrations are greater. Your experience reverberates deeper down the Chain of Rebirth. |
| ALEX: | Whereas an ostler doesn't reverberate, right? Fails to register? |
| LAURIE: | Sure. |
| ALEX: | Same principle as Heat magazine. |
| LAURIE: | Oh, that's right - belittle me, Alex. |
| ALEX: | I'm not belittling you. I'm just trying to work out what makes you tick. |
| LAURIE: | Really. |
| ALEX: | Yeah. |
| LAURIE: | Give me a cigarette. |
He tosses her the packet and she lights one.
| LAURIE: | (Slowly) Tick, tock. (She exhales) Anyway, why shouldn't I be an Egyptian queen, wise guy? I got a right. |
|---|---|
| ALEX: | But just consider the immense improbability of what you're saying, Laurie. Even if we suppose that the theory of Reincarnation is true, that the dead are reborn anew, over and over again. Even if we assume that - and I think it's an idea we may have batted around a few times before without reaching any compelling argument in its favour - even if...even if there's a direct link between you and some other person through history, what are the odds that that person is Tutankhamun's grandmother? A million to one? A billion to one? |
| LAURIE: | And what are the odds that you are who you are? What are the odds of that? |
| ALEX: | Yes, but I'm no one special. |
| LAURIE: | Well, I am. |
| ALEX: | I'm not denying that you're special, Laurie. I'm just denying that you're Tutankhamun's grandmother. |
| LAURIE: | Well, someone's gotta be Tutankhamun's grandmother, otherwise he wouldn't have got born. |
| ALEX: | And you believe that someone is you. Based on what, exactly? On vibrations and what some woman at Mardi Gras told you? |
| LAURIE: | Some woman? She was a genuine witchdoctor and Voodoo High Priestess. (She pauses, stubs out her cigarette.) There's all types at Mardi Gras, though. I remember one guy came up to me and my friend Chris. And he was like "I bet you ten dollars I can tell you where you got your shoes." And Chris was like OK wise guy - ten bucks says no way. Ten bucks says you haven't got a rat's chance in hell of telling me where I got my shoes. 'Cos those shoes were so cool, man, they were like purple suede with little silver stitching of dolphins and stuff. She got them from this cute little store out in Bixbie, Arizona and they were custom made, totally one of a kind. So the guy says "ten bucks says I can. Ten bucks says I can tell you exactly where you got your shoes." And Chris says, OK, dude, shoot. And the guy says: "you got your shoes...on your feet!" |
| ALEX: | And did Chris have to pay? |
| LAURIE: | Sure. These guys can cut up rough. |
| ALEX: | And what was so different about the woman who told you about your past lives? |
| LAURIE: | I told you. She was a Voodoo High Priestess. |
| ALEX: | How could you tell? |
| LAURIE: | She told me so. |
| ALEX: | She could have been lying. |
| LAURIE: | They don't have "Louisiana Witchdoctor and Voodoo High Priestess" on their goddamn driving licenses, Alex. I trusted her, OK? |
| ALEX: | Why did you trust her? |
| LAURIE: | Oh, I don't know. Just a feeling. An energy. |
| ALEX: | And that feeling, that energy, made what she said true? |
| LAURIE: | It was true for me. It was a truth she gave me, and I made it my truth. |
| ALEX: | But the truth doesn't belong to people, Laurie. Truth is objective. |
| LAURIE: | That's another one of those words, right - "objective". |
| ALEX: | Yeah. Objective. Opposite of subjective. |
| LAURIE: | Go on. |
| ALEX: | Objective truth is the whole set of propositions which accurately describe the world as it is. What is, in short, irrespective of how you or me or anyone else feels about it. So we might say: the statement "Laurie Baxter was once the grandmother of Tutankhamun" could objectively be either true or false, but it will be true or false quite without reference to how you or me or anyone else happens to feel about it. Take for example... |
| LAURIE: | It's my truth. |
| ALEX: | But that's precisely my point. It's not your truth. As Wittgenstein points out, the world is everything that is the case. Not everything you or I or anyone else decides they happen to feel like believing. |
| LAURIE: | It's my truth, Alex. |
| ALEX: | So you think truth is entirely dependent on our own feelings? |
| LAURIE: | Sure. |
| ALEX: | So whether, for example, the bank is open today is entirely dependent on how you, Laurie Baxter, feel about it? The fact that Paris is the capital of France could cease to be the case if you, sweet Laurie, decided that today Paris would be the capital of....Guatemala? |
Laurie throws a cushion at him.
| LAURIE: | You're cute when you're pompous. |
|---|---|
| ALEX: | Just when the conversation was getting rather interesting... |
| LAURIE: | Interesting! (She rolls her eyes in disbelief). You call that interesting?! |
| ALEX: | I do. The rebuttal of relativism. The assertion that absolute truth does indeed exist. Fascinating, nay heroic, stuff. |
He lights a cigarette triumphantly. Laurie comes over to him and they kiss.
| LAURIE: | (Under her breath) Mr Philosophy Student. |
|---|
They kiss again.
| LAURIE: | You know another game they play at Mardi Gras? |
|---|
Alex shakes his head.
| LAURIE: | All the girls have to flash their boobies, and the men give them beads each time. I got a lot of beads. |
|---|---|
| ALEX: | I'm sure you did. |
| LAURIE: | Strings of 'em. |