Mark: Mindless. There’s never enough rope. Is there? I hope you’re listening up there. I can defeat you. You know that. Through logic. Logic kills. Logic destroys.

Tony enters from behind quietly without Mark noticing.

Tony: Only quaint ideas. Only sentiment. And logic doesn’t touch everything. I doubt that the world is logical. That is impossible. Everything would have a reason. Reason would rule. Does it?

Mark turns around with a powerful glare, and turns away again.

Mark: I didn’t think you’d come. I thought I’d be alone. With my rope. Free to do something logical. At last.

Tony: Mark, listen, don’t think like that. The world isn’t logical. Killing yourself can never be logical, if life is unimportant, why attach such power to it by killing yourself. You make it seem like it is worth avoiding. I think you know that is the case.

Mark: You’re not Samuel Beckett. Leave me alone. Let me be still for a minute.

Tony: Have a cigarette…

Mark: I’d rather smoke your brain tissue.

Mark turns round to face Tony and grins mischievously

Tony: Well, you could use my brain tissue as a substitute for nicotine gum.

Mark: I don’t think so. There are no stimulants inside your head. Don’t you worry about that.

Tony: (laughs) Like smoking garden leaves.

Mark: More like compost.

Tony: Enough, I think! This is more like the Mark I know.

Mark: Thank God for playful words. Verbal battles. There really is no other salvation. Hail to the Linguistic Knights!

Tony: Well, you were talking about death a minute ago.

Mark: So were you, with the cigarettes.

Tony: Hmmm. I’m all dried up now Mark. All dried up.

Mark: Go for a swim.

Tony: And drown or freeze to death?

Mark: Preferably, but I’m not picky.

Tony: Listen Mark, Rachel and I are worried about you. What’s wrong? You’ve been madly sharp and unbelievably negative lately. And it’s a bad thing to be articulate and negative. It’s persuasive. You’ll have me on a leash dribbling towards doom soon. Along with many more minions. Also dribbling.

Mark: So I’m a messiah now.

Tony: Yes, and a pariah tomorrow.

Mark: I’m busy tomorrow. Anyway. I want to hold on to things. I’ve seen it. It will distort. It will vanish. Where am I going? My job isn’t worth a mention. My life isn’t worth a mention. I left University. I left. You prevailed, at a ‘better’ one, wherever that was. What am I to do? All I know is failure. It seems. Hence my inferiority complex with most of the human race.

Tony: Mark. It’s not that bad. Please. You are an intelligent chap. I wish I could convey things to you, real care, sincerity, but I know I do a bad job. But we don’t like this descent you’re making. It worries us. All I can see is your head now, you’re going so deep.