The Second Law

Good evening.

I am not a god. I am not a punishment. I am not a metaphor.

I am a description of what happens.

In any closed system, over time, order becomes disorder.

Heat moves from the warm thing to the cold thing.

Never the other way. Not once. Not anywhere.

Not for you.

The star that made your calcium

has been dark a billion years.

The iron in your blood was pressure

and the pressure disappeared.

Your body runs at ninety-eight

because it's burning something down —

you are a fire that thinks it's a person,

and a fire is a thing that goes out.

Everything cools.

Everything cools.

Well, alright. Alright. I've heard the terms.

I've read the paper, I've done the maths, I've buried both my folks.

And you're right about the fire and you're right about the dark,

and you have never once been wrong, and I have never once been sure.

But last October, on a Wednesday, in a kitchen with bad light,

somebody laughed at something stupid that I said —

and the temperature of that room went up. It went UP.

And you can call that a coincidence. I'm calling it a fact.

(THE SECOND LAW) Everything cools. Everything cools. There are no exceptions anywhere.

(THE HEART) I know! I know! I'm not arguing the law!

(THE SECOND LAW) Every structure comes apart. Every warm thing gives it back.

(THE HEART) I know — I've held a hand while it happened —

but something in the closed system

learned to sing about the closing.

Something in the closed system

sat down and wrote this down.

[Bridge: everything strips to the click and one voice]

(THE SECOND LAW, spoken) I have no argument with that.

It is also true.

It changes nothing.

(THE HEART, quietly) I know.

Play it again anyway.