A. Bertram Chandler - Last Day

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Last Day

A. Bertram Chandler

FADE IN TO DISTANT CHIMING of church clock, to seven slow, solemn strokes. There is a

short pause, followed by the subdued creaking of a mattress as the man shifts and stirs in his bed.

Then--

JOHN (sleepily). Seven already. And it's light. (His voice becomes more alert, a little querulous.)

Why didn't you set the alarm, Evelyn? I wanted to be up early. I wanted to see the sun rise. I wanted...

EVELYN (bitterly), I wanted, too. I wanted all kinds of things. I wanted you with me, just ourselves, as

long as possible. I wanted you to sleep all through today, all through the night that's coming, so that they

couldn't find you and you would miss this craziness. But now (her voice takes on a strained

cheerfulness) I suppose you want your breakfast.

JOHN (rather surprised, as though the idea is brilliantly novel). Why, yes.

EVELYN. In bed?

JOHN (surprised and gratified). Thank you, darling.

Fade in to sizzling frying pan, then footsteps on stairs, then door opening.

EVELYN (still with the same forced gaiety). There you are, m'lud. Sunny side up, two, with crisp

bacon. And...

JOHN. 'M'lud.' Funny you should say that. Reminds me of something else...

EVELYN (sharply). What?

JOHN. Trials and things. The Old Bailey. The condemned man ate a hearty breakfast...

EVELYN. The condemned man... John, John!

There is a crash as of breaking crockery, a sound of a woman's sobbing. And--

JOHN. There, darling, there. Don't worry about it. It was a silly joke. Do you suppose I'd have made it if

it wasn't meant to be a joke? We're no more condemned men than Brown and Alcock, or the Wright

brothers. Less so. They had to make up the rules as they went along; we already have a mass of theory

and practice to work on. And look--you've broken the teapot. You never liked it, did you?

EVELYN (with a laugh that is very close to a sob), No. It was an ugly thing. But what a mess I've

made of your eggs, darling. And they'll be your last eggs, too. The last for a few days, I mean. Why can't

you take eggs? The acceleration?

JOHN. No. Properly stowed, they'll stand anything that we can stand. It's just the old, old story of Mass

Ratio. It means that we have to cut down weight as much as possible. It means dehydrated foods...

EVELYN. And powdered egg omelets...

JOHN. There you are, now. You've got it. It just means a few days of discomfort, of putting up with

unpleasant sensations and unappetizing food. There'd be far more danger in an expedition to either of the

poles or the South American jungle.

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A. Bertram Chandler - Last Day

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