The Early Ayn Rand

CURTISS: Don't do it, sir! Whatever it is, don't do it! BRECKENRIDGE: [Looks at him in amazement, then notices the gun in his own hand and bursts out laughing] Oh, that?... I'm sorry, Curtiss. I'd quite forgotten I held it.

CURTISS: But, sir...

BRECKENRIDGE: Oh, I just sent the car down to meet Mrs. Breckenridge at the station, and I didn't want her to find this in the car, so I brought it in. We mustn't tell her about... you know, about why I have to carry this. It would only worry her. CURTISS: Yes, of course, sir. I'm so sorry. It just gave me a jolt.

BRECKENRIDGE: I don't blame you. You know, I hate the damn thing myself. [Walks to a cabinet and slips the gun into a drawer] Funny, isn't it? I'm actually afraid of it. And when I think of all the deadly stuff I've handled in the laboratory. Radioactive elements. Cosmic rays. Things that could wipe out the whole population of the state of Connecticut. Never been afraid of them. In fact, never felt anything at all. But this... [Points to the drawer] Do you suppose it's my old age and I'm being sensitive about any... reminder?

CURTISS: [Reproachfully] Your old age, sir!

BRECKENRIDGE: Well, time passes, Curtiss, time passes. Why do they celebrate birthdays? It's just one year closer to the grave. And there's so much to be done. [Looks at the portrait] That's what I was thinking when you came in. Have I done enough in my life? Have I done enough?

[SERGE SOOKIN enters through the French doors. SERGE is about thirty-two, pale, blond, with the face and the manner of a fervent idealist. His clothes are neat, but very poor. His arms are loaded with an enormous bunch of freshly cut flowers]

Ah, Serge... thank you... So kind of you to help us.

SERGE: I hope this flowers Mrs. Breckenridge will like.

BRECKENRIDGE: She loves flowers. We must have lots of flowers... Over here, Serge... [Indicating the vases as SERGE arranges the flowers] We'll put them here — and over there, on the cabinet — and on the fireplace, just one or two sprays on the fireplace.

SERGE: [Wistfully] By us in Moscow, we had the more beautiful flowers.

BRECKENRIDGE: Try not to think of all that, Serge. There are things it's best to forget. [To CURTISS] Have you taken care of the cigarettes, Curtiss?

[CURTISS busies himself filling cigarette boxes]

SERGE: [Grimly] There are the things never one can forget. But I am so sorry. That we should not discuss about. Not today, no? This is a great day.

BRECKENRIDGE: Yes, Serge. This is a great day for me. [Indicating an armchair] I don't think that chair is right, over there. Curtiss, would you move it please this way, to the table? [As CURTISS obeys] That's better, thank you. We must have everything right, Curtiss. For our guests. They are very important guests.

CURTISS: Yes, sir.

[From offstage, there comes the sound of Tchaikovsky's "Autumn Song" expertly played on the piano. BRECKENRIDGE looks in the direction of the sound, a little annoyed, then shrugs and turns to SERGE]

BRECKENRIDGE: You will meet some very interesting people today, Serge. I want you to meet them. Perhaps it will give you a better idea of me. You know, one can judge a man best by his friends.

SERGE: [Looking up the stairs, a little grimly] Not always, I hope.

BRECKENRIDGE: [Looking up] Oh, Steve? You mustn't mind Steve. You mustn't let him upset you.

SERGE: [Coldly] Mr. Ingalls he is not kind.

BRECKENRIDGE: No. Steve's never been kind. But then, you know, strictly speaking, Steve is not a friend. He's my business partner — just a junior partner, as we call it, but darn useful. One of the best physicists in the country.

SERGE: You are so modest, Mr. Breckenridge. You are in the country the greatest physicist. That everybody knows.

BRECKENRIDGE: Perhaps everybody but me.

SERGE: You are to mankind the benefactor. But Mr. Ingalls he is not a friend to the world. In his heart for the world there is no place. Today the world needs friends.

BRECKENRIDGE: That's true. But -