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The Drunkards

Autor: Antonio Álamo
Traducción de: Tony Baring
Idioma: Inglés
ISBN: 84-95683-33-4
Precio: 2,00 €
Peso del archivo: (Drunkard.pdf) 629 Kb.
Disponible en: Español Italiano

(1 mujer y 9 hombres).
Ilustrado con fotografías de la representación dirigida por Alfonso Zurro.
El hotel La Fonda de Santa Fe, capital de Nuevo México, es el marco en que se sitúa la macabra cena que tuvo lugar el 6 de agosto de 1945 para celebrar el lanzamiento de la primera bomba atómica sobre la ciudad de Hiroshima. Los invitados fueron J. Robert Oppenheimer, director de la ciudad-laboratorio de Los Álamos, y otros siete científicos de renombre mundial, responsables técnicos, junto a él y muchos otros, del proyecto. El alcohol, protagonista indiscutido del absurdo banquete, embriaga los cerebros de los ilustres comensales y, liberando temporáneamente sus conciencias del delirio de omnipotencia científica en el que se encuentran, saca a flote flaquezas, extravagancias y humanidad. La conciencia cada vez mayor de los reales y catastróficos efectos de la invención, las dudas, los remordimientos y la disociación del poder oficial aumentan al mismo ritmo que lo hace la niebla etílica que envuelve la escena, para desembocar finalmente en una escalada de alucinada desesperación que pertenece al reino de la meta-historia.
Fragmento

The Drunkards

KISTIAWSKY  I want to propose a quite different bet...

 

(At that moment, Teller enters, wearing a loosened tie and a not-very-clean, creased suit. He hasn’t shaved properly and tonight—because of the desert sand of Los Alamos—his orthopedic leg has a terrible tendency to jam. When this happens, he’s immobilized in a determined position putting his balance at risk. It’s quite clear that Teller has also drunk quite a lot.)

 

BUSH  (Who is the first one to notice his arrival.) Hello, Edward!

TELLER  Hello to everybody!

MOONLEY  Hello.

BAKER  How are you?

KISTIAWSKY  Where is Oppie?

BAKER  Is everything all right?

FELONY  Yes, where have you left Oppie?

TELLER  He’s...

KISTIAWSKY  Where?

TELLER  ...In the dining room.

KISTIAWSKY  Who with?

TELLER  Nobody. Everybody’s gone back to Los Alamos.

KISTIAWSKY  Is he with anybody?

TELLER  Not exactly. He’s with the waiter! He’s arguing with the waiter!

BUSH  What about, if we may ask?

TELLER  He promised me he’d come soon.

BUSH  But, what does he have to talk to the waiter about?

TELLER  I couldn’t stand it anymore. I told him: “Oppie, you’re making him dizzy”.

 

(He laughs.)

 

KISTIAWSKY  What are they talking about?

TELLER  Guess.

GÖLAM  About martinis.

TELLER  A prize for Gölam. Exactly: martinis. What’s exactly the right quantity of gin and what’s exactly the right quantity of martini? For Oppie that’s a physics problem of prime importance. I think he feels prouder of his thesis on martini cocktails than making the Bomb.

MOONLEY  He’ll be dazzling him.

TELLER  The waiter doesn’t dare to say a word. He’s impressed! Do you remember when the hotel manager wanted to kick us out? Then Oppie goes and says: “I’ll speak to Harry”.

FELONY  His lawyer?

TELLER  The President! HARRY TRUMAN.

GÖLAM  And did he do it? Did he call the President just for that?

TELLER  Of course he did! He rang the White House and talked to the President JUST FOR THAT: “Listen, we want to carry on drinking, what do you say?”.

 

(They laugh.)

 

BUSH  Are you serious?

TELLER  ...And the good old Harry talks to the manager and tells him: “Let my boys drink till they burst”. Do you understand? In a certain way, we’re already free: the Bomb is not a secret anymore, but SOMETHING REAL. And for the same reason we are also REAL. We don’t have to be hiding ourselves anymore and changing our identities as if we were MAFIA RATS.

FELONY  So the waiter hasn’t got the balls to contradict a man who can wake the President up in the middle of his dreams because of a whim.

BUSH  A whim? We have spent more than three years devoted to the Bomb in body and soul. Three years of reclusion, with endless problems and headaches, isolated from the majority of our friends and family. And at last we’ve finished making it, and a few hours ago the device was dropped and everything has gone well. Much more than well: FUCKING WELL. It’s very probable that RIGHT NOW the bloody Japanese Emperor will be sitting in the golden seat of his imperial toilet, very constipated, seriously thinking about sending the President a post card by express post saying: “WE FUCKING SURRENDER”. I’m not joking: the Bomb won’t only finish off this war, it’s also the most important technical achievement in the history of humanity. And it’s been us, ALL OF US, who have made it. How should we feel? I think great, don’t you?, fucking great. So great that I don’t think that it’s asking too much for them to let us drink a couple or three more drinks, is it? It would be INHUMAN for them to turn off the martini tap tonight after what we’ve done.

TELLER  Bush, this is just the beginning. At the moment we have made the fission bomb, but this is just the first step to...the Super. Now, Bush...

KISTIAWSKY  Stop dreaming.

GÖLAM  What Teller says is completely true. The hydrogen bomb in no less real than the atomic bomb. It’s not a daydream. It’s possible. You only have to want it.

KISTIAWSKY  I don’t doubt it but, what for? The fact that there are no limits to the destructive capacity of the new arm you propose, that H bomb, makes it something necessarily PERVERSE. What worries me is not the technical problem, although of course I’m not as convinced as you that that horrible thing could ever work, or could reach any target unless it’s dropped by a Ukrainian ox cart. What I don’t like and I don’t understand is that that thing seems to have captivated the imagination of some of you; what I don’t understand is how can you talk about this when not even six hours have passed since Hiroshima was DEVASTATED.

BAKER  Bush isn’t off base when he says that, after tonight, war hasn’t got any meaning. Hirohito must be crazy if he doesn’t come down from his golden toilet. What use would that other bomb be?

TELLER  You speaks as if…as if you weren’t a real scientist.

KISTIAWSKY  What is a real scientist?

TELLER  Somebody who looks for the truth, as simple as that.

KISTIAWSKY  And what, is Truth like that, with capital letters? The H Bomb?

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