The first act, a chaotic balance of Shakespearean prose and technical miscalculations, charts the infinitesimal probabilities of success amidst existential woes.
As observational science would have it, each scene introduces variables, from rogue props (likely of unstable comedic density) to a cast inclined towards slapstick synapses misfiring.
The climax, theorist awaiting, script unchanged yet considerably altered, left audience pondering quantum tunnelling or perhaps, to a lesser extent, whether olives pair with servings of poetic soliloquy.