When there’s a great historical question, an event that has baffled minds for over half a century, upon which hinged the fate of the earth, and whose participants were famously esoteric about the whole thing, it’s natural that what we imagine took place would be fascinating. In reality it wouldn’t be. But, let’s say someone wrote a Tony Award winning drama about it, then it Would be interesting. Well, it isn’t. During my foray into armchair physics I found the name of this play as a speculative reconstruction of the last friendly meeting of Bohr and Heisenberg. Oh well, perhaps I only expect everything post-Albee to be Albeean–drama, which tends to be the only niche for the twists of old short stories, is perhaps falling the way of all New Yorker flesh. Boring. Implicated climaxes. Colorless. More mundane than any day of my week. I’m glad I read it, so I could take it off my Amazon wishlist. And I made a new friend. And it shows avenues of reading physics as philosophy that Dino and I had not yet considered, quantum philosophy rather than string philosophy.