(_Trudging solemnly up Broadway._) It’s funny, dese mokes wot git messages at one in de mornin’. I’ll lay a even bet I don’t git nuttin’, neider. If you’d come wit a million dollars after twelve o’clock dere’s guys wot’d git sore. SYPHERS (_Dozing, but still continuing his speculations hazily._) I must try to find the psychic impulse which originates and directs the cell. That is the great thing. We’re all shadows, I say, shadows--adumbrations--impalpable nothings--rumors--dreams. (_He turns on his side._) If our ills become too great we might be able to wake up or drive them away by thinking of this. It may be that that’s what we do when we die--wake up. But that’s Christian Science, isn’t it? Bah! (_He snores slightly._) PATSY LAFERTY (_Arriving at the door and closing his umbrella._) A fine night, dis. An’ he won’t be in. Dat’s my luck. (_He rings the bell._) SYPHERS (_Beginning to dream._) Radiobes! Radiobes! Flying radiobes as big as houses--monsters--(_He stirs. As he does so the ringing of the bell, the rising wind and the thunder and lightning, which rapidly become violent, identify themselves in some weird way with his thoughts. He is on a large plain now over which a battle is being fought. The flashes of lightning and bellows of thunder gradually identify themselves in his mind with some impending disaster, vague and yet oppressive. He begins to cerebrate in an imaginative, illogical way. A sense of something ominous pervades him, a feeling of great change. Then the rat-a-tat-tat of machine guns begins and armed figures running and fighting appear in the distance._) SYPHERS (_Who once saw military service._) War! And fighting men! (_It begins to rain._) That is a machine gun. Now I am in real danger. How did I come here, anyhow? (_He moves a hand, thinking he is hurrying to cover._) PATSY LAFERTY (_Standing at the door, ringing the bell and shifting from one foot to the other._) Wot a swell night! Wot a swell night! Now it’s startin’ to pour an’ I’ll have to stand here aw’ile, I guess. Holy Cripes, dem drops is as big as marbles! (_He pushes the bell again._) THE PROFESSOR (_Hearing the whirr of the buzzer in his dreams and taking it for the rush of artillery and men._) Ah, the horror of war! What was I thinking?--ah, yes! If one had some method of waking up. (_He mingles the dream notions of his waking philosophy with the figures of his dream._) Then there would be no more war, no horrors. It is entirely possible, now that we know this existence of ours is a dream. I may be dreaming now--who knows? If so, I could wake up and all my ills would vanish--or would they? (_As the thunder and lightning increase._) How horrible this is! (_The dream sky lights up as if with red fire._) PATSY LAFERTY T-r-r-r! T-r-r-r-r! T-r-r-r-r-r! Wot’s de matter wit dis bell? W’y don’t de guy answer? THE PROFESSOR