Chimera. Wendy Lill

points to another pot to be moved) There are millions of things happening here every second. Thousands of miniscule creatures fighting, eating each other, running for their lives, giving birth, dying.

      ROY:

      I take that back.

      NELL points to another pot. ROY studies it, begins to move it.

      ROY:

      I googled you last night. You grew up on the Isle of Man, took your training in Cardiff, Wales and London.

      NELL:

      I know where I grew up, thank you.

      ROY:

      Your husband was a biologist, too. Died ten years ago. You started in plant biology, moved to molecular cell biology, then into the study of congenital anomalies. My brother had one of those.

      NELL:

      What?

      ROY:

      A birth defect.

      NELL:

      Is that true, or just another ploy to stay longer, keep me talking?

      ROY:

      He had Down Syndrome.

      NELL:

      Older, younger?

      ROY:

      We were twins.

      NELL:

      Really? That’s unusual. What was his name?

      ROY:

      Stuart. We called him Sonny.

      NELL:

      You said “had.” Is he deceased?

      ROY:

      Yes.

      NELL:

      What happened to him?

      ROY:

      His heart gave out.

      NELL:

      In childhood?

      ROY:

      No. Just a ... couple of days ago.

      NELL:

      Good heavens, you must be ...

      ROY:

      Well, we hadn’t been ... I haven’t seen him in ... Can I move anything else?

      NELL:

      No. You can leave now. I don’t talk to the media.

      ROY turns to leave.

      NELL:

      Mr. Ruggles? Sorry about your brother.

      1/11 CANAL

      CLARE and DOYLE are waiting by the canal.

      DOYLE:

      You’ve got twenty minutes. From here, you go to a meeting with the Solicitor General, then off to the Speaker’s reception. (DOYLE sees ROY) There he is. Don’t say too much. Don’t get personal. (CLARE waves him away)

      ROY approaches. CLARE extends her hand.

      ROY:

      Hello, Clare. Long time no see.

      CLARE:

      Hello, Roy. First of all, I just heard the news from home. My mother sends her condolences.

      ROY:

      Appreciate that.

      CLARE:

      I can still hear him saying “Loves you, Roy.” (repeats) “Loves you, Roy.” Even when you were being a real shit to him, he’d still say—

      ROY:

      (cuts her off) Look, I know how busy you are. Can we just get started with a bit of background?

      CLARE:

      All right.

      ROY:

      You’re ... forty-five years old?

      CLARE:

      Yes. But do I need to see that in print?

      ROY:

      Grew up in PEI. Dad: veterinarian. Mom: fundraiser, political bag—

      CLARE:

      Next question.

      ROY:

      You were married for fifteen years to Darrel James, who you met at law school, and now you’re ... divorced? No children?