An unnamed woman visits a gloomy man, who we learn is called
Macgillycuddy. She is under the impression that she is there on his invitation; he says not but nevertheless allows her entry. He is civil, formal, his conversation
phatic. He effects a faux-subservience with his continual use of "
Madam", but takes no steps to make her stay comfortable, refusing to provide even "a little heat" or "a little light" but he doesn't go so far as to forbid her squatting on the thick cushion she sees. In the words of scholar Verna Brown, "[W]e experience a practised talker at work in the female well-wisher, with her reliable memory and inventory of conversational 'gambits' at the ready. Despite her skill, she is stymied in her efforts to advance the conversation by the male
protagonist's uncooperative obduracy. He refuses to accommodate her desire to establish a probing 'frame', to elicit the information that her curiosity craves." Even when she expresses concern for how troubled he seems to her the man refuses, as
Vladimir would put it, to "return the ball." He is a model of polite restraint, but why? She has come, she informs him, to listen but then asks if she can "see them". His subsequent answers indicate there are individuals behind the sounds, one producing words, the other music. Each is alone, isolated from the other and required to produce their respective sound continually without respite. The man says he can't however describe their conditions for her. Both sounds are faint and "not together". The woman wants them louder but the volume never varies while she is there. Having heard as much as she needs she wants to know if Macgillycuddy likes what he hears. For once he opens up and confesses that "[i]t has become a
need" but admits nothing more. She readies to go, leaving him to his "needs" (a rather sardonic remark which he fails to counter). Before she exits, she asks a strange question: "Is that a
Turkoman?" Predictably the man ignores the question and goes to show her out. She takes a wrong turn and nearly walks into where they keep the "
house garbage" implying that there are other locations that produce waste. After she has left there is a long pause. The audience then hears the sound of two curtains being drawn evocative of those around a hospital bed. The man picks up the telephone receiver and dials. We only hear his side of the following phone conversations. He asks the young lady who answers the phone – he refers to her as "
Miss" – to have the doctor call him back. He says that it's urgent and waits impatiently for the phone to ring. It is hard to believe this is the same man who was so proper with his woman visitor only a few lines earlier. Could this be a different point in time completely? Or were the curtains available all the time but were only closed while he attended to his unwelcome visitor? He gets a return call but it's only to inform him that they cannot locate the doctor. She rings off and he curses her: "
Slut!" His agitation builds. He's beginning to panic. The phone rings a second time. This time it may be the doctor who asks a number of pertinent questions to which the answers are, "they’re ending", "this morning", "she’s left me", "they’re together" and "how could they meet?" The voice on the end of the phone tries to reassure him that "last … gasps" are all alike and then rings off telling him he'll receive a visit in an hour. Macgillycuddy slams the phone down and curses again. This time he uses the word "
Swine!" suggestive of the fact that he has been talking to a different person, most likely a male. A few moments later the phone rings one final time. He's now told not to expect the doctor before noon the next day; he has two births (first gasps?) to attend to, one of which is
breech. Music and Voice are then heard ", ending, breaking off together, resuming together more and more feebly" and then there is nothing. After a long pause the man whispers, "Tomorrow … noon …" ==Interpretation==