Sequence by Arun Lakra Page A

You may not know right now, but by the end of my class you
will
hypothesize an answer, support it, and commit to it.
    She underlines WHICH CAME FIRST.
    THEO
    There are a thousand books out there that offer to change you in some way. Change your attitude. Your diet. Your golf swing. You know the best way to shave a couple of strokes off your score?
    Pause.
    Get a hole in one.
    THEO circles the word LUCK.
    DR. GUZMAN
    I’m telling you right now, you’d better start thinking about it. The last question on your final exam will be this… Which came first? A: the chicken. B: the egg. C: simultaneous. And if anyone is audacious or careless enough to put down C, that will earn you an automatic F and you will be shot. I know you’ve heard those campus myths about me. Don’t test me. I have tenure.
    THEO
    Now before we get started, let me ask you a question.
    DR. GUZMAN reaches for a white cane, smacks it against her hand.
    DR. GUZMAN
    What jury would convict a blind woman?
    THEO reaches into a jar full of papers.
    THEO
    Anybody feel lucky today?
    The board shows:
    WHICH CAME FIRST?
    LUCK GOD
    Laboratory
    DR. GUZMAN holds a clipboard close to her eyes.
    She has good central vision but no peripheral vision. She has learned to compensate.
    A knock on the door.
    DR. GUZMAN
    Who is it?
    MR. ADAMSON
    (off stage)
Dr. Guzman? I’m one of your students. From your 121 class.
    DR. GUZMAN
    What time is it?
    MR. ADAMSON
    (off stage)
I’m sorry, I know it’s late. But the library just closed and I thought I’d take a chance. You don’t have regular office hours.
    DR. GUZMAN
    See me after class.
    MR. ADAMSON
    (off stage)
By the time I get to the front you’re out the door.
    DR. GUZMAN
    Walk faster.
    MR. ADAMSON
    (off stage)
Right.
    Pause.
    You said you wanted to see me.
    DR. GUZMAN
    Give me your ID card.
    She slips the clipboard under the door.
    When she pulls back the clipboard there is an id card on it. She holds it close to her eyes, then stuffs it in her pocket.
    Ah, Mr. Adamson. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.
    DR. GUZMAN unlocks the door and opens it. She slips the key back into her pocket.
    You’d think with the recent incidents the university could spring for some state-of-the-art security. I’d settle for a damn peephole.
    MR. ADAMSON enters.
    He is in a wheelchair, a jacket on his lap.
    A wheelchair. Intriguing.
    MR. ADAMSON reaches for his jacket.
    Without warning, DR. GUZMAN grabs the jacket, tosses it aside, and reveals a briefcase.
    She lunges for the briefcase, throws it on her desk.
    Put your hands on your head. I said put your hands on your head.
    MR. ADAMSON reluctantly lifts his arms.
    DR. GUZMAN does her best to frisk him. She kneels down, looks under the wheelchair.
    Hear the latest? Some undergrad student sneaks into a genetics laboratory at Princeton and burns the whole thing down. Shoots the Ph.D., who just happened to be a stem-cell researcher. We seem to be a dying breed.
    DR. GUZMAN turns her attention to the briefcase. It’s locked.
    What’s the combination?
    MR. ADAMSON
    I’d prefer if you didn’t open it.
    DR. GUZMAN
    I’d prefer if I was assigned to teach courses commensurate with my qualifications. What’s the combination? No doubt something you might be capable of memorizing… One two three, four five six? What’s inside?
    No response. DR. GUZMAN tries various combinations on the briefcase lock.
    MR. ADAMSON
    Can I please have my briefcase?
    DR. GUZMAN
    I have reviewed the results of the Introductory Genetics final exam.
    MR. ADAMSON
    It was a long test.
    DR. GUZMAN
    I like to separate the men from the boys.
    MR. ADAMSON
    So which am I?
    DR. GUZMAN
    You, Mr. Adamson, are an embryo. No, a zygote. That first moment when the sperm touches a polysaccharide on the egg and says, “Hi honey, I’m home.” That instant when the staunchest pro-lifer in all of Kentucky would have a tough time calling it the beginning of