The tent of Achilles. Patroclus is present.

Patroclus: Achilles, I think you've made your point. Let's go back now.

Achilles: Let them rot. Go on, make supper.

Patroclus: I... I can't say I've really cooked before.

Achilles: Well, someone's got to do Breseis' job!

Enter Nestor

Nestor: Excuse me... I'm looking for the man with the coat full of cake.

Patroclus: I'm sorry, Nestor. He's not in this tent. But here's a nice toy you can play with!

Nestor: Why, if it isn't the old hecatomb himself. Thank you, strange young man.

Exit Nestor

Patroclus: You have to be forgiving of these things, Achilles. Do you remember nine years ago, before we first arrived on these shores?

Achilles: Nine years! That would make you... how many years when you left?

Patroclus: Well, nine subtracted from twenty four...

Achilles: ...it's no use. I'm just not as good as Odysseus at these things.

Patroclus: It makes me about thirteen. I was still a boy, and your father, Peleus, charged me with a task: "Patroclus," he said, "take care of my Achilles. Let me see him alive again, but make sure he earns due glory in battle. And above all, Pat, don't let him do anything overly moronic!"

Achilles: It's not moronic. It's justice. And who made you my jailer, anyhow?

Patroclus: I'm not a jailer. I'm your friend. And I can tell you that if you continue this, Agamemnon isn't going to be the only one to suffer. How easy do you think this will be for me?

Achilles: For you? You're not even involved!

Patroclus: I just wish you'd be more understanding.

Enter Odysseus

Odysseus: Salutations to both of you. I've been sent as a rather impromptu emissary.

Achilles: Odysseus! Maybe you can help us. How old were we when we left?

Odysseus: That depends. Do you want me to estimate, or include the number of days?

Achilles: Please don't estimate.

Odysseus: Well, Nestor would have been 43.8 years old, and Agamemnon would have been... oh, let's see now... of course, it was on the fifteenth--

Achilles: I don't want to hear about Agamemnon.

Patroclus: It's all right, Odysseus; please deliver your message.

Odysseus: You may be surprised at my tidings. Agamemnon is willing to return Breseis, but only on the following conditions--

Achilles: There will be no conditions. I have my honour.

Patroclus: No conditions? What's the matter with you? This isn't just about her, is it. Achilles, be reasonable. I'm sorry, Odysseus; could you please wait here? I'll talk to him.

Achilles: Here we go...

Odysseus: Of course.

Exit Achilles and Patroclus. Odysseus hums a bit, then sighs impatiently. To pass the time, he begins to recite tables.

Odysseus: Twenty-two divided by two is eleven. Twenty-two divided by three is 7.333 repeating. By four, 5.5; by five, 4.4, by six, 3.666 repeating, by seven, 3.14159--

He pauses, stunned

Odysseus: Great heavens! There's no pattern!

Odysseus: (Suddenly relieved) Oh, thank goodness. There it is.

Enter Patroclus

Patroclus: Hullo, Odysseus.

Odysseus: Salutations. Am I to deduce from your doleful manner that no concord twixt our two masters has been reached?

Patroclus: You are indeed.

Odysseus: But Achilles is letting you out, obviously. That could be interpreted as a sign of improvement.

Patroclus: I didn't ask him. Tell me, what's it like in the Greek camp these days?

Odysseus: Well, my belaboured friend, we're preparing for a Trojan assault, and a fine sight it is to see our soldiers swarming about in a pre-contention air of agitation. Old Nestor stands atop yon hill and screeches like the very owl of Athene--

Patroclus: Yes; Achilles says he's been hearing divine voices lately.

Odysseus: --and great walls have been erected all about our tents. There's a good deal of alcoholic substances being circulated, and all would be rather merry if it was not for our Commanders.

Patroclus: Agamemnon, Atreus' son? Yes, how is he?

Odysseus: Very tired, for one thing. And more snappy than usual. Same thing with Menelaus, although with him it's more of a mood-swing reaction; he sighs often. Agamemnon doesn't sigh, mind you. He bawls. And loud enough to wake me up at nights, too, even after the festive throngs so characteristic of the Grecian military elite and their captive females.

Patroclus: They're growing up just like their father. Very sad.

Odysseus: Yes; for several months now I've been speculating on the possibilities of hereditary disposition. I have a theory that certain chemical tags originate in the father, and have a percent chance of being passed down to any progenty. I refer to these tags as "genes." (He pronounces it with a hard "g") For example, you will note that Atreus and his children all have blonde hair. Thus, one can inference there is a yellow colored gene floating about in their systems. In a similar way, depression could be handed down father to child via an uncomfortably shape gene. It's a theory all my own.

Patroclus: That's a very clever idea. I always thought a part of the soul of the father got caught in the new baby, and that's why there's a resemblance. Like pale yellow silk caught under a doorway.

Odysseus: You make no allowance for maternal contribution?

Patroclus: Oh yes; a mother's soul seeps into the womb as her baby grows.

Odysseus: Unscientific, but nonetheless fascinating as an example of archaic paradigms and their outdated modes of explanation-- in a word, mythology as a means of comforting but false analysis. Quite the study.

Patroclus: Are you a philosopher, then?

Odysseus: Aren't we both? It seems that everyone has their own little voice to add to the various archetypes in these modern times. Theories abound.

Patroclus: What about?

Odysseus: Everything!