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# TODD TERJE: Ragysh

You arrive for
the first time in a city,

you have barely at all slept...
(SIRENS BLARE)

..but the day you arrive, you know.

And not even the annoying
couple on the plane

pretending to hate each other
can stop you from thinking,

"America. Fuck, yeah."

You meet people in New York
that you don't meet

anywhere else in the world. I met
her just after my 32nd birthday

at an immersive party experience
on Governors Island

and I remember,
this girl took my phone.

Saved herself as ANNA X,
block caps, nothing else.

And in arrivals, you reflect,

you're 23 that month. The
airport smells like disinfectant.

You have really bad period pains.

But it's January,

sleet is expected,
everything is perfect

and no-one knows you, except
the cab driver you just met.

And I remember, she said,
"Can I unlock this?"

And went into the bathroom,
took a selfie in the mirror

and, for some reason, I don't
know why, that was attractive.

And driving from JFK
through Queens to Manhattan,

you're thinking of London.

You're thinking of an
Anselm Kiefer opening at White Cube.

You're thinking of a girl you
kissed the night before you left.

You are thinking,
"What am I even doing here?"

The kind of girl you want your
friends to see you standing next to.

And being with her,
it was like grating a bar of soap.

A box clicking shut,
you know, satisfying.

And as the driver talks,
you see the city ahead,

snow falling on a cemetery you've
already forgotten the name of.

And you take your phone
and you caption, lowercase,

"first snow in nyc kissing graves,

"pavements, overpass, cars."

And truly,
you loved America from the moment

you heard the flight attendant
say, "Welcome to the USA.

"we're so happy to see you."

You pull up,
hand the driver a hundred

and tell him, "Keep the change."

And I should say,
I certainly didn't realise

I was going to become a financial
target by my 30s, very much not so.

And just to be clear, I would
not have even been in New York,

never even have met her, had
my 20s not been such a disaster

At your Midtown hotel,
you'll already be disappointed.

You feel chewing gum
on your door handle.

The windows are thick.

New York is silent.

Everyone has a dog.

I mean, I was fleeing the West
Coast after a failed relationship,

floundering career. I was just
trying to correct my life, you know.

You take a shower.
pointlessly. at 2 p.m.

You go to Macy's and you buy
a lip balm from Chanel for $42.

And how I made my money
is kind of peripheral to the story

but broadly,
I designed an app, a dating app.

And before you start
work the next day,

you remember your father saying,
"America is for you."

This app, OK,
this app is like a club,

an exclusive club,
where membership had privileges.

"That country is built for you."
With a certain etiquette,

a certain clientele.
"Remember, we are always improving."

Which necessarily
screened applicants.

"Remember, we are maximum people."
It was called Genesis.

And the next day,
you get ready for the first day

of the rest of your life.

The first day of your internship.

You remember
snow drifts on pavements.

Your clothes laid out
from the night before.

Versace dress,
Prada for a purple bag.

But you decide not.
You choose instead

sportswear from Supreme, a rucksack,

a coat that will not keep you warm.
And arriving in Madison Square,

you take the elevator
up to the top floor "loft."

The office is called The Institute.

The cover of the last issue
was a picture of the editor

sucking a woman's toe. And on
the walls are Dash Snow Polaroids,

Tracey Emin light installations,
Jeff Koons miniatures.

All the secretary girl says,
"Gifts to the editor."

And there are artists,
there are trans people,

there is the whole world

and everyone is queer

and everyone is just feeling...

..something so much.

You say hello. You're told
to work in the mailroom.

You're rude to certain people.

You try to have lunch alone
but people want to know you.

You say, "London is very
ahead in the market."

And when they see your Instagram,
they see your travel

and they say, "You were
at Biennale and Art Basel?"

And you shrug and say you
only went to visit your parents.

They collect a little.

I just moved to Manhattan.

The city was lit up
like a Christmas tree.

Everybody wants
to get laid at Christmas.

But success. We were celebrating
a real achievement, Genesis had

headquartered out of California
to get away from the whole SF thing.

So we moved into bounteous
office space in Williamsburg.

The team was growing exponentially.

All we were lacking was investment.
But every day,

thousands were joining
an ever-growing waiting list.

And did I dip my pen
in the company ink?

Sure. When girls found out
who was behind this thing,

they were all over it, yeah.
But, honestly, I was disappointed.

I mean, I've met enough girls
with 80,000 followers,

who are photographers or whatever,
and started looking for more,

for a real connexion.

You hear talk spread about
you through office banks.

You imagine people saying,
"She's not a nice person, though.!

But when the editor pinches
your ribs the next morning,

you know what it is that's coming.

Anna, Anna, Princesse Anna.

You feel his hangover, his lust.
Why you are in the mailroom?

This is a guy known for
sexting during meetings,

who smokes in the office and says

he doesn't give a shit
about style on a man.

He's just published a 500-page
photo diary of his sexual conquests.

We go to press Tuesday,
you should do the proofs with me.

Do you like sushi?

And you "demur" to use a word
you learned that week,

say you'll try to arrange
for after work but he persists.

Lunch now. I went to eat.

So walking to 2nd Avenue through
snow and inappropriate footwear...

You must be cold, no?
..you say "nyet" to remind him

who you are and where you're from.

And as you sit down to eat omakase,

your breath still steam
from outdoors, he explains.

New York is not
the best city in the world

but it is the best
city for affordable sushi.

You contradict.

Mm, that's not really true.

And you tell him
about St Petersburg,

about Putin leading Russia
out of the financial crisis

and into the Sushi Years.

And you drink beers with lunch,
talk, he even takes you seriously.

Your knowledge.Alors. Tell me what
you hate about the magazine, Anna.

Well, it used to be arts.
And so?Nothing.

I just liked it more when
it was art.Because why?

What's wrong with it now?
Well, now it's just models, right?

Models who look like
they're about to have sex,

models who look
like they've just had sex.

So you have a problem with sex?
I liked it when it was art.

To me, I steered this magazine
to being art and fashion

because they are the same.
Sex can be architectural,

can be a party, can be an artist.

But I take women very seriously.

Take you. I see you.

You want to be a businesswoman.

I am a businesswoman.
Bien sur.Just not in New York.

Why not in New York?
Because New York is five hours

and ten years behind London.

And what is wrong with the
New York art scene?It's not new.

It's stuck
Pourquoi?

MoMA opened 100 years ago.
So did the Whitney.

I mean, no-one even remembers
who Gertrude Whitney is.

And so what will you do
tonight and terrible New York?

Pourquoi?Because I want to take
you to the Prada fashion week party.

Sure, I could go.

And you try to flirt with this man
who wants to sleep with you.

But this new pill you are on,
it blocks your desire.

But later on, outside your hotel,
unlit cabs passing on 34th,

you take your phone.
You filter, square

and wait a hundred hearts.

And tagging the editor,
you make your move.

in New York, I was broadly alone.

But fewer distractions
meant for more work.

And it paid off.
A few weeks after moving,

we got the call up from
the Grigorian Brothers.

Now these guys were just the fucking
tits. I met one of them at MIT.

Now he'd gone on to form
a Venture Capital firm,

extremely dynamic, already
with a heap of capital behind it.

And this guy, this guy wants
to meet at the Havana Room Club.

Incredible joint. At, not kidding
you, seven in the morning.

Eight a.m. starts are for
pussies and the public sector.

How are you, man?
Jed, hey.

And at this point, I can assure you,
the pitch deck, a thing of beauty.

Don't you just love the smell
of iced coffee in the morning?

Like a professional bump of cocaine?

Savour it.
Mm! The fruit of the gods.

Right. Let's cut to the crap, Ariel.

Are you a unicorn or aren't ya?

Well, I don't know about that.
Come on, give me the founder's myth.

Give me the juice.
Give me the naked ape.

The what?
Investment psychobabble.Right.

Look. Proceed. Tell me,
how do you package this?

I mean, what e-fucking-ssentially
is exclusivity?

OK. Listen, let me take
your second question first.

B, exclusivity sells.

We know this. We crave elitism.
We all want to be unique.

But winning is also about losers.
Soho House, Yale Club, Berghain.

I mean, if these days lunatic
asylums had a waiting list,

there'd be folks lining up around
the block to put their names down.

What's your acceptance rate?
Six percent.

Slightly harder nut
to crack than Harvard.

And A, our origin myth.
I got this idea from a break-up.

And. hey, I tried stuff first.
You know, do yoga,

try therapy, veganism,
ten-day no-speaking retreats. No.

What I needed was a connection
with a like-minded individual.

And what Genesis does is solve a big
problem for a small number of people

and it gives them a great service.

It's like what Andy Warhol
used to say about Studio 54.

We're a dictatorship at the door,
democracy on the floor.

So, a safe space for celebrities
and creatives to fuck.

Exactly. But to your point, what
we're selling here is aspiration.

You, me, we worked
to get to the top table. Hard.

But the internet
has democratised overly.

But you know what?
People love hierarchy.

It infuriates them but it makes
them horny. It's gold dust.

Let me think on it.
That thinking took all of 12 hours.

50 mill for a 25-percent
controlling share of the business.

Non-negotiable.
Valuing the business at...

200 million. Not bad, man.

Man, I put a down payment
on a Brooklyn apartment

with a fucking swing in the bedroom.

And what was it
these guys are investing in?

Nothing. No proof of concept,
an idea, an understanding

of how craven human nature is.

And shakhmaty,
the editor likes your post.

And as your cab pulls up
outside New York's newest,

most expensive skyscraper,
he meets you in the lobby.

La Principessa Anna.
New York's saviour.

And in the mirrored elevator going
up, he takes selfie after selfie

of you together. And arriving,
he points out the view

For that, the building
is not expensive enough.

Points out Rihanna.

Christian Louboutin, Tom Ford.

Says he will make introductions.

And you see girls
coming out of cubicles,

putting their cocaine back between
their phones and their cases.

These beautiful, accepted people.

You see car lights
reflected in skyscrapers

and you feel like this,
all of this, is for you.

Like it was choreographed
to happen this way.

And back at the table,

the editor is praising
your taste, your vision.

This girl, this woman, is bound
to be the city's great new curator.

He's already told them
your family history,

your plans for New York's art scene.

She has the critical eye
for collecting.

And posted a picture of you on
his Instagram to 500,000 people.

She will be profiled
in next month's magazine.

You give him the concept,
he fills in the rest.

And later,
drunk in a cab across the city...

Yellow cab only. Never Uber.
..he tells the driver.

Stop the car here.
Why? What are we doing?

Because this building,
this place, is special.

Then why are you peeing on it?

You are right, Anna.
This city's scene needs... air.

A friend was once
going to buy this buildings,

make it in his image.

It's nice.

And at that moment,
you know what it is you will do.

But now, pissing in snow,
drunk from champagne cocktails,

he tells the city...Mesdames
and Messieurs...BOTH: Anna,

She's going to be a very
different kind of star.

Genesis was live. Thriving.
Obviously, we had to celebrate.

It was Thanksgiving that weekend
and fuck were we going home.

The whole company got tickets to
an immersive nightlife experience

on Governors Island
overlooking the city.

So we're waiting in line
to get on this ferry, OK?

And one of the girls from design
put something in my mouth.

Now, let me tell you
my philosophy on that.

Broadly, I think the trick
is to finish drugs

by your own bachelor party. Failing
that, maybe your 31st, 32nd year.

So, like, a guy in his 30s,
he should have completed drugs.

But anyway, we're drinking
Jameson from the bottle.

The mood is lit and then I feel it,

that we're on a boat together

and it hits me that I love these
people who have made my vision real,

that all, collectively,
we are achieving something.

Suddenly, looking out,

fucking Statue of Liberty,
it's there, man.

And I realise I am coming up
to pieces. That my brain is smoking.

(MUSIC PLAYS / CHATTER)

Another night, another party.

You've been in New York a year.

You live alone,
company unnerves you.

But you are close
and you are impatient.

And you look around you at
this party of neon crucifixes

and run-down shacks.
They've made this place a wasteland.

And you push through
crowds of people.

You look up high at a billboard.
"It's the name of the night,"

you hear somebody say,
How Did Our Dreams End Up Like This?

Inside the club,
instantly, I lose everyone.

The only reason
I came to at this point,

even came to my senses,
is because I met her.

# TODD TERJE: Ragysh

Emmanuel Macron. Come on, guys.

Er, Macron on the app.

I don't think so.

Sorry. What?

No, wait, sorry.
Fuck! I actually entirely forgot

what we were talking about.
Wow! You are really screwed.

Amazing facts to remember.
Amazing facts game.

Oh, shit. Yeah. You're saying

Macaulay Culkin.
Nah.

Macaulay Culkin...
What?

Macaulay Culkin is only one year
younger than Emmanuel Macron.

How amazing is that?

What?

No... No way.
Way.

But he's, like,
the president of France.

Right.

Have you got one?

One what?
A fact.

Oh, my God.

Oh!

I don't know.
I'm... I'm... I'm pretty flipped.

Flipped?

Like out-of-control fucked.

Yeah.
Yeah.

I'm not like that.
I put my pill up my arse.

What? Why?

Cleaner high.
It gets in your blood quicker.

I feel incredible.

That's fucking weird.

Respect.

I'm joking.

But when I was a teenager,

me and my friends
used to soak tampons in vodka

and put them up our vaginas
to get drunk quicker.

Really?

No. That's also a lie. (LAUGHS)

You're really making
me look ridiculous here.

It's cool.
I'm just playing with you.

It's called flirting.

No. I mean, I like it.

You speak incredible English,
by the way.

Yeah, you keep saying this.

"You speak incredibly English,
by the way."

I know.

What did you say your
name was again?I didn't.

Why is it that club smoking sections
always look like shantytowns

or concentration camps?

Or...Whoa!..or, you know,
Ground Zero...No...after 9/11.

I can't quite get down with that.

See, that's...
Oh, grow up. People say things.

9/11 changed the world.
it was spectacular.

That is the unsayable truth.

I feel like you're cycling
through a lot of taboos here.

Yeah? Maybe I did
put a pill up my arse.

No, I'm saying,
like, what's your point?

Obviously, I have completely
no idea what my point is,

Damien says...
sometimes I have nothing to say

and I need to communicate this.

Who's Damien?

Damien Hirst.

So, you're an artist.

No, not any more.

I'm a curator.
I'm financing a $21 million

art foundation
in Manhattan right now.

OK, fuck, now you're joking.

No.

By art, build a museum,
put your name on it,

make it in your image,
let people in for free.

That's the closest you can
get to immortality, baby.

Is that your pitch?
Again, Damien.

So, where's your museum?

It's not the museum.
You know on Park Avenue...

Uh-huh!..about four minutes
up from Grand Central,

there's a building.Right.It has,
like, a Dutch mediaeval facade.

Sounds expensive.
We've raised most of the money.

Well, you got a pitch?

And it's moments like this,

in large smoking sections
of small clubs,

that you think back
to your old life,

to the first time you learnt
how people come to you.

You think of lecture halls
at Goldsmiths University,

parties and open warehouses
when you are 22,

in final year and failing.

You study fine art.

You're nice to people
but no-one wants to be friends

with a foreign student.

You have purple tints in your hair,
of course.

And during a lecture
critiquing the YBAs,

how they cannot draw, cannot paint,

have only concepts.

And you hear about Charles Saatchi
arriving at a warehouse

in a Rolls-Royce,
standing open-mouthed

in front of a box
containing a cow's head,

maggots and flies being killed
by an electrocuting light.

The concept - fear of death.

He buys it and you're
thinking about this story on a bus,

on your way to a party
that night in New Cross.

You're thinking about your
end-of-term report that day.

Artwork good.
Achievements satisfactory.

And arriving at this party of white
walls and students smoking inside

and the DJ in the living room,

you realise that every night
is ironic, ironic hip-hop night,

ironic acid-trance night,
ironic garage night.

I mean, what is even true or now?

And everyone is just
so edgy by saying nothing.

And now you're upstairs
in the bathroom

talking to an English boy
called Conrad.

The bathtub is full of plastic.

The boy says...
It's bubble wrap.

Get it? A bubble bath.

You look at yourself in the mirror,

I get it.

I like your hair.
Thanks.

He's gay. He eats out
the palm of your hand.

And then, watch this. It happens.

Hey, are you the Russian girl?

Excuse me.I heard there's
a Russian oil heiress here

worth, like, a lot of money.

What's her name?
Well, I don't know her name.

And in that moment,

you decide you're not talentless,
you're not good at fine art

but you understand the world,

what people want, concepts, ideas,

how to make a connection.
And so you say...

You know,
it's pretty weird to think that

people who don't know you are
talking about you at a party.

Fuck. Sorry.

It's that easy.

He brings you to his parents' house.

Notting Hill.
Sorry, not the posh bit.

There is real art on the walls.
His parents...

They collect a little.And you
talk through the night about plans.

Fundamentally
changing the art scene.

Is that a Koons?What?
Up there? A Jeff Koons.

Oh, yeah, I think so.
Do you like it?

I love it.

And you know then,
life can be better.

Are you going to Frieze?
The after parties maybe,

not the fair, I don't think.

Mm! Vicious.

And leaving the next day,
having not slept,

you take the bus 148
back forever to Camberwell.

And back in your room with no
furniture and nothing on the walls,

you open Instagram.
You look at the people you love

who make influence from nothing,
who make envy like currency.

And that day, you go to Harrods,
you take pictures of yourself

in a Givenchy dress,
which you shoplift,

along with Celine sunglasses.

You go to Mayfair galleries,
White Cube, Gagosian,

Damien Hirst retrospective at Tate.

Damien Hirst says, "You have to
work with the tools of the day."

So you use your phone
to start a new beginning.

You find pictures of art
you like on Instagram you curate.

At your new friends,
learn the power of association.

And when, months later,
having stopped going to classes,

this boy tells you about
a magazine internship in New York.

His parents know the owners.
They could make an introduction.

And you decide, yes.

And by the time you've
touched down in New York,

you will have committed.
You will buy bottle service in bars.

You will have the best
Instagram in the city.

Your story will be an advert for
just how far you can go by tipping.

And where you will meet a man
who will offer you money

without even knowing your real name.

Well, you got a pitch?

Why am I pitching to you?
(LAUGHS)

Because you're talking
to the founder of a company

valued at £200 million as of today.

Give me your pitch.

Yeah, I'm not really
looking for investors.

And, I'm sorry,
but who even are you?

I want to look at
the light pollution.

Looking back, several things
led to meeting Anna.

The first was breaking up with
my college girlfriend, Carly.

We were engaged,
actually, in San Francisco.

She'd been at Boston University.
I was at MIT.

And you know those girls that
are hot in a Midwest kind of way.

Hey, sweetie.Hey there, sweetie.
How you doing now?Oh, I'm good.

That was Carly. You married yet?

Oh, you know I am.
Kids? You adopted, right?Mm-hmm.

And that girl
really should be my wife now.

But I can get to that.
The point is, I was at Facebook,

specifically Instagram,
working in machine learning.

Carly was at 350.org,
environmental charity, respectable.

But in SF, Carly was very anti
the culture of "unchecked growth,"

of "disruption," of friends
of ours going to Burning Man.

Burners.Of the beautiful,
influential people

who went out there to find
themselves having already

founded a multimillion-dollar
tech start-up.Founders.

But the truth is,
and this is the heart of it,

I FOMO'd to fuck.
I wanted to see the orgy tent

where you were permitted
only with female company.

I wanted to try DMT,
whatever that was.

And I dreamed of being
the force behind a start-up

that could change the world.
But, sweetie, you could start one.

I know, but, like, what?
I don't know, honey.

But, I mean, if Mark can do it,
then you can.

Mark? Mark Liebling?
Yeah, from, like,

fricking Phi Beta Epsilon
or whatever.

OK, yeah. Mark just sold
to Benchmark. He's a big deal.

He's not even that smart.
Right.

I mean, would you want to be
like him? He's a total meathead.

Do you know what? I dreamed of that.

Sweetie, I thought you
wanted to make computer games.

At school, sure but...But come on.
There was this one idea.

It was going to be
like Legend Of Zelda

but in an Americana Western style.
A Montana-set Western, OK?

Montana.That one.
And I'd pictured a game, OK,

where my hero travelled
on horse and foot,

met maidens on milk ranches,
through a vast, detailed open world.

He'd bring peace
to a besieged community,

battling a corrupt
county sheriff who'd summoned

the Native American
god of the dead. I mean.

come on.Sweetie,
I love that idea.Sweetie, listen.

In SF, people are building
their own realities,

world-altering concepts not...
Honey, you have ideas.

But by the time I hit 30,
I realised,

socially, I was cruising into
the stage of life where people I met

were just blends of people
I already knew.

Workwise? The future was
a backache, an ulcer, and what?

Climbing the ladder to become lead
engineer to make 200-250 a year?

And my relationship? Yeah.

I thought about other girls.
I thought about girls

reading The New York
Review Of Books on the Metro.

I thought about girls
in the Mission District,

tattoos from Portland and Astoria.

And it worked. At Instagram,
my world was bathed in images.

So, in short,
I decided to capsize my life.

You left your Nintendo here
and your gym bag.

Look, I'm sorry.

Are you?

Honestly, I don't know.

But the beginning of Genesis
and my coming to New York

would not have happened
had me and Carly not ended.

This is not some
founder's myth bullshit, OK.

This is for real.
Toys are preludes to serious ideas.

Necessity is
the mother of invention.

I was in Chicago on a road trip
back from San Francisco,

having recently
cluster-fucked my own heart.

Me and Carly had been apart
for a few months, OK, a few weeks,

and I went online,
by which I mean, why hide the fact,

I downloaded Tinder, looking for,
like, an introduction to the city.

You know what I found?
That's right.

Nothing. No calibre,
just a heap of anybody.

And what I realised is, it's not me.

It's the platform. It sucked arse.

So I had an idea of an app
that was invite only,

vetted membership, prestigious.

I knocked up the dummy site
right there in my hotel room.

Circulated it. Within six
weeks of getting back to SF,

is thing had a waiting
list of just below 10,000.

Within three months,
the LA freaking Times

runs a story on us,
"Genesis, the Illuminati Tinder."

And, no, man, this is something
I built on my laptop in a day.

And was I cynical about it?

Yes, yes, of course.

But Genesis was a business model,
about new beginnings,

where anything could happen.
About making a kickass platform

where you felt like you were
getting away with something,

with someone, with the girl
of your fricking dreams, like Anna.

Take off your shoes.

Why am I doing that?
I promise it'll feel good.

Honestly, my feet
feel pretty comfortable.

Look, if you don't like it, I'll
put your shoes back on for you.

Yeah? Fine.

(DANCE MUSIC PULSES IN BACKGROUND)

Oh, man!
Yeah, right?

Feels incredible. You are strange.

Everyone in America
is very non-eccentric.

Yeah? Yeah, that's right.

Well, what makes you so eccentric?

I'm not.
Am I very American?Yes.

And you're Russian...
Russian-French. Think that's neat?

Yeah, that's pretty neat.
(GIGGLES)

You know what I love?
What?

Getting a high on an empty stomach.
Fuck! I love you.

What?

I fucking love you
that you say that.

Really?Completely.
Wow! You are high.Yes.

You want to see my tits?

What?

Fuck, yeah.

Not here.

I woke up in my apartment,
two-three hours sleep

around about 8 a.m., What we
called at college drinkers dawn.

And the night before, I had been,
mark my words, college fucked.

And I remember,
I had a piss so long,

it was like the soul
leaving the body.

You wake up early.
You read about him, his app.

iPhone only, Instagram required.
Download.

I had a racquetball game that
afternoon, which I cancelled.

I drank a ton of coffee,
which made me uneasy.

And online, I learned everything
about this girl. I read the runes.

One hour later, you're accepted.

Her Instagram was lit.You see...
Into travel, fashion but funny,

..the owner of the Box nightclub,
a thousand Instagram models.

New Yorker cartoons,
memes that were not dumb.

Influencers, photographers.

One of those 100 or so people that
only exist in New York's nightlife.

You research him.
A life you cannot believe.

His life, like yours, is painted
online.At private views in Chelsea.

A guy not invited
to parties in high school.

At a Peruvian restaurant just
opened between Lexington and 3rd.

A guy trying to turn
the whole world on for a moment.

A guy trying to live his best life.

And so you decide - meet.

Right off the bat, I WhatsApp her.

And through my anxiety, I send
an articulate, humorous summary

of the night before,
the uniqueness of my hangover

and a topical aside
about US-Russia relations.

I wait. Nothing.

And, man I spend
the remainder of that weekend

just dooming out,
scrutinising that message

and hating myself comprehensively.

I take Monday off to deal
with my spiralling comedown

and still no reply. I only
went in the office by Tuesday

because there's apparently been
some minor snafu with programming.

Dude! Yo!

Marcus, are new ML engineer,

who we had to hire because
he's the nephew of someone

at Grigorian Brothers.
El Capitano. How's it hanging?

Yeah, fine. And this guy is a
dumb-arse Princeton business major.

He's been in private equity.
He's been at code camp

to retool himself. Now, probably
on his sixth career, age 26.

Legendary party, man.

I mean, if that's
working on Thanksgiving,

give it to me every damn day.

Spends very little time on his job,
all day on client engineering,

ie, checking out girls applying,
macking on them.

Looking pretty jacked
when I saw you, man.

Awesomeballs. Think we all were.
Yeah, so what's the problem, Marcus?

Oh, man, it's minor stuff.

Bottleneck issue with membership.
Recalibrated, pronto.

Recalibrated?

Yeah. Waiting on update.
Not your issue.

Also, dude, that girl.

What?
Nice.

You know her?
Yeah. What, you didn't?

No.
Oh, dude, kudos.

What do you know about her?
Well, from what I hear,

she's, like, one of these rich
art girls, you know.Wait, shut up.

Elegantly waisted.
Shut up. Will you see if she's on?

Yeah.
No, but can you check now?

No, like, dude, she's on, man.

I vetted her yesterday.

I send Marcus home to jerk off.

Sitting there in the
twilight of the office alone,

I open the app. Search.

Bam! Right there?

Swipe to connect. Pending.

And just as I am, like, "You,
doofus, this girl already ghosted."

Connected. I open a beer.

Pace Gallery, East 57th.

You're looking at work by
a new artist you're interested in.

You're considering smoking,

you're considering leaving,
when notification,

Genesis.
Ariel Lieven wants to connect.

Hey!
Hi!

Sorry, only just replying to this,
Anna is typing.

I just had a round on.

A round on?
A ton on.

Sorry, predictive. How are you?

Great. How are you?
Still feeling it tbh from weekend.

Still at work but back on it
tonight. Two Brooklyns down.

Yeah? Strong.

I'm great. Me too.
I just got this art thing.

Driving too.

Er, drinking, not driving. LOL.

Well, hope you are
not driving too far.

Do you want to meet?
Laughing.

I was actually going to say...
Sure, that's cool.

You should come here.

Yes. Yeah, right.

Pace, where I am, if you want.
Great. Amazing.

So, see you soon.
Perfect.OK. Kiss.

I get a cab from
the office on 6th Avenue.

My art knowledge is patchy.

OK, poor. Traffic is horrible.

I googled the artist.
It's in Chinese. Difficult name.

Doesn't even have a Wikipedia.

You know when you're aware that
you're the centre of attention?

That you are powering the fact
that anyone is even being there,

or trying. You're talking
to three guys in the gallery.

showing off, being provocative,
overly smoking,

over using the word "cunt."

No, I'm not on the list
but can you please let me in?

"Well, who do you know?"
Anna. "Everyone knows Anna."

And inside, everyone is rude.

You know the kind of girls who
survive on tapas and cocaine?

And, amazingly, you're
looking forward to seeing him.

Hey.
Hi.

I'm drunk.
Wanna get drunker with me?

Er, definitely,
You know, in Russia,

we have a word for
drunkenness more than two days.

Yeah?
Zapoy.

Zapoy. Nice.

Should we be looking at the art?

If you like.

So, what do you think?

Yeah. I rate his content.

Content?
It's cool.

A lot of paint,
reminds me of Rothkow.

Rothko.
Rothko.

Right?
Sure. Why not?

No?

Um, it says something
by the side here.

"If I'm to paint, I will paint
the passage of time itself,

"which concerns
the essence of my life."

Yeah, yeah, yeah.

So, what I think he's saying,
is that in parts of China,

like where the artist is from,
some people buy a coffin

when they're 60
and they keep it in their home.

And each year, they paint
a layer of colour on it

until, you know, they die.

Morbid, Great knowledge.

Thanks.
I read it on Artnet in my cab.

Man, I wish
I knew how to use Google.

Yeah, you know, you're almost funny
in, like, a lame geek kind of way.

And what the fuck? You mean it.
Thanks.

So, Artnet?Yeah, that's how
easy it is to get away with it.

So, this guy's brand is, like...
Memento mori. Yes!

Remember you die.Zapoy.
Exactly.Man, this is flying.

I'm, like, "Do you actually want
to get out of here, like, to a bar?"

And she says...
Let's go to a hotel.

And you're, like,
"Man, that's crazy.

"My apartment
is just over the river."

But I'm also, like,
"That would be baller."

And you're thinking, "This is it.

"You are really doing this."

She takes our wineglasses
and we leave, onto the street,

like Rihanna. And in a cab
flying direct down FDR

with the driver playing bhangra,
she says...

Can you play louder, please?
By the time we get to the Beekman...

You take him to the hotel bar.
Plush furniture, chandeliers.

I go to the men's room.
For whatever reason,

the urinals are filled with ice.
And by time I get back,

she's ordered ingeniously...
Vodka and grapefruit juice.

It's not as if I was looking for
some kind of whirlwind romance

or something. I was just
looking for something different,

like, more life than life.
Like drugs.

When... When going to the store,
going for a walk,

everything feels meaningful.
And on your way to the room,

you are thinking you are
in love with this feeling

of being spontaneous
and reckless and pointless.

Let's order room service
on the bed and watch television.

And it's doubly perfect
because he wants to be silly

and not just worship my body
and I want him to worship my body.

I want to get into a bathrobe
and tell him, seriously,

this will pass but it's fun.

I am drunk

and completely unavailable
to have sex at this time.

I want to look at her
face on in the bed

and ask her everything about
her life.Let's play a game.OK.

OK, so one person
says the first word

and the next person
says the next word.

Should I go first or you?
Me.

When.

You.

Came.

In.
To.

My.

Bed.

Comma.

I.
Knew.

That.
It.

Would.
Be.

Alarming.

Really?

(LAUGHS) Maybe. Why not?

Quite good sentence, right? Period.

You are weird but nice.

You don't know that.

Well, how much can you
ever know a person, right?

That's a cliche.

I have no idea what you think of me.

(TRAFFIC SOUNDS)

Imagine waking up in a luxury hotel
suite on a Wednesday morning,

no idea of the time. Imagine
light flooding through the window.

Dawn chorus of
garbage trucks, traffic,

and the room being entirely empty.

Imagine collecting your belongings,

trying not to smell your own breath

and heading to reception.
How did you enjoy your stay, sir?

Er, very much.Sir, we understand
Miss Brunel had to leave early

for an art fair in Prague.
She did.

Sir, we understand that
you're happy to collect the bill.

I see.And how would
you like to pay today, sir?

Er, American Express.
Excellent, sir.

Now to cover Miss Brunel's stay,
the charge is $19,755.

And do you know what?

That was cool, sexy, weird.

Astonishing.
And I was not so much worried,

I've been robbed as much as
I've been rinsed by a rich girl

who had so much money she
couldn't even keep track of it.

Are we seeing each other
again or what?

Hey, yeah, have to travel
but I'd love to when back.

Right.

Actually...

Time passes.

Winter into spring.

The miracle of new things.

Your visa just by coming and going.

And back from London Fashion Week,
days getting longer,

you touched down in Newark.

The snow on the sidewalk that
had once clung to your sweatpants,

turns brown in the rain and is gone.

I'm crossing the Hudson.

You remember that a magician
plans to float over it

using only helium balloons.

Everything is possible. Still.

And from your taxi window,
you see rain

sprinkle hot-dog vendors
and street performers.

And you go direct,
not to your hotel, but to him.

You like him because he's different
than the people you meet in arts.

The curators in Chelsea and SoHo.

The artists in Bed-Stuy.

Not talking about
"movers and shakers"

or "looking past big names."

You like him because
he books cars for you

without asking you first.

And nearing Brooklyn,

you reflect that you're
approaching something near normal,

fixed,

accepted.

And although you live apart...

..still you feel
the wind blow under the door.

Sunday night box sets,
invitations "home."

And as you make yourself
unavailable,

he cleaves closer.

It all becomes a little...
How was your day?

Are we really doing that?
What?

"How was your day?"

We can not. Do you not want to?

He is a moth to the flame
of your unkindness.

Anna?
No, sure.

Or we could get take-out
and kill ourselves also.

That would be quicker.
OK. That's cool.

Tell me how you feel.
Not, like, habitual.

You really don't bullshit, do you?
Hmm?

You continuously
say it how you see it.

How it is?Right. Like,
I guess you could spend so long

being appropriate. Not saying
or doing what you actually want.

Pointless.
Right. So, how was your day?

Ariel!
Serious, I want to know.

I had meetings with lawyers
who were condescending.

Yeah. Problem?
Cash-flow issue.

Sounds kind of serious.
It's nothing.

OK, what else?

I had lunch with a Beijing
collector at Sadelle's.

Yeah. What's the outlook?New York
is poised to eclipse London.

We're well placed.
What did you do for fun?

I looked at the cherry blossom
from your top window.

Any other questions?Mm-hm.
You could see it all the time

if you spent more time here.
Ariel.What?

Your apartment is not the only place
in New York I can see blossom.

So, I shouldn't bring up
the pedestrian?Not at all.

Kill myself instead. Got it!

And one day, bright, cold,

you deign to walk with him
through Brooklyn.

And hiking through
Green-Wood Cemetery,

white jet marks in blue sky...
I cannot get over how crisp it is.

So crispy, you know?
Your first fight.

So seasonal.
First obstacle.

Reminds me of walking out
in the Midwest,

used to hike up to this water
tower.His cheer...Panoramic,

..irrepressible.Did you
walk as a teenager in Russia?

With headphones, sure.
Oh, the best.

No, it was totally boring, actually.

Really?
This is great, though, right?

I mean, look at these guys.

Mausoleums, angels, urns.

Just the decadence of it.

I mean, it's OK.

Do you like that one?
Which?Cool Egyptian one?

No way. Hate.
Hmm!

What about that one?
Absolutely hate.

Not a tomb fan, huh?

Regular grave girl.
Definitely not.

Cremate me. It's my last chance
for a smoking body.(LAUGHS)

OK. Hey, now, you have a hot body.

(CHUCKLES)

Weird, though, huh?
Knowing the first date

but not the second,
like, when's it going to be?

I mean, at least you know what
name is going to be on yours.

Oh, fuck!
That's actually very profound.

No, it's not, Ariel.
You're a man. It's obvious.

OK, but do you know
what kind of name

you'd like on there, perhaps?

OK, I like a lot of different kinds,

you know, like, a lot of
different shapes, sizes.

(SCOFFS) Gotcha.

Why did you do that?

Do what?
Like, resist. Deflect.

Deflect what exactly?I feel like
you reject platforms for intimacy.

Because I don't want to talk about
sharing your name on a gravestone?

Come on.OK, OK. But not just.
Like, opportunities for affection,

I have to travel again soon.
See, this is what I mean.

You're like a fricking
vapour trail, right?

How many toothbrushes do you
have in how many bathrooms?

You come and go, right?
I mean, did someone hurt you or...?

Yes, Ariel, somebody hurt me.

And now I retreat
from relationships.

It's really so sad.
Mock, sure.

But I feel like you build this
wall of irony around yourself.

A wall of irony?
I think you misunderstand irony.

OK, whatever. You make yourself
a fortress whenever...A fortress?

So, it's a fortress with
a wall of irony built around it?

Am I inside the fortress?
OK, yeah, forget it.

Maybe you need a nice Midwest girl,
Ariel, a girl next door.

What the fuck is wrong with you?
I'm trying to get close to you...

You know what?What?
Fuck me in the mouth

If you want to get close to me,
don't talk.

Really?

I'm going to give us a minute.

And you remind yourself...

..choose solitude.

Choose to be alone on purpose.

I probably want to go, I'm sorry.
I didn't bring this up before

and it was kind of random
but did you use my name

to extend a credit line
with Grigorian Capital

without telling me?
I'm sorry, what

For your foundation?

Excuse me?

Are you using me?

I didn't think about it
at the time but did you say

we were acquaintances
to meet their investment board?

I don't know, Ariel. I meet
with a lot of different firms.

Because. if you did, it's no biggie.

Just, I want to know
where we're going here.

Like, am I paranoid?
Or am I useful to you? Or what?

Because, also, the thing with
the hotel bill?Oh, my God!

I'm not prosecuting you.I can
pay you back now.I wanna know,

you know?What do you want to know,
Ariel?Listen, I'm a tombstone.

What are you saying?
I lied? I'm lying? What?

What I'm saying...What are
you saying? Speak English!

This time, truly, level with me.

I hear you want to raise
this loan with Grigorian,

yet you have a trust.
You're having cash-flow issues

but then you tipped our driver
here a fucking Benjamin.

So, I need to work this out.

Because money, money is easy,
right, Anna, isn't it?

I have it. You have it.

So there is something else going on.
Is there not?

So I'm asking you,
please, about you.

What is going on with you?

Me?

OK.

OK.

Once upon a time, there was a girl.

And this girl...
I'm sorry, what?

Once upon a time, there was a girl.

And this girl, she met a man.

And she was very beautiful.

And she came from a far-off place.

And she had all
the finest silks and embroidery,

she went to all the best parties.

And everyone,

everyone thought
this girl was perfect.

Especially this man.

Even though...
Even though she was quite scary.

(CHUCKLES) OK.And what you
need to know about this girl...

..is that she wore
a ribbon around her neck.

And she never took it off.

Ever.

It was kind of like a choker.

Anyway, this man
fell in love with a girl.

He loved her very much.

And one day...

..he proposed to her.

And, eventually, the girl said yes.

And on their wedding night,
the man said,

"Why, please, do you wear
this ribbon around your neck?

"Will you take it off?"

And the girl said, "No.

"I love you,
I will do anything for you

"but I can never take
this ribbon off. Ever."

And the man said OK.

But every year,
he asked the same question

and every year the girl said no.

Until one day, many years later...

..the man said,

"Now we have loved each other
for such a long time.

"And we have no secrets.

"Will you please
take you ribbon off?!"

And the girl said, "OK.

"If I have to, for you, I will."

And so she began
to untie the ribbon.

And she said, "Now you will see why
I could never take it off before."

And slowly, carefully...

..she unwound the last threads...

..and her head fell off.

Do you like this?
Do you like this story, Ariel?

I mean, I like hearing
you tell it, yeah, but...

But do you understand it?

Maybe... No.

Everyone has a past.
Everyone is something.

That... You like me
as I am right now, yes?

Yes, of course
And that's it.

That's it?

(SIGHS)

You know, whatever it is,
it's safe with me, right?

Yes.

Do you want to talk more?

No.

No.
I'm going to buy cigarettes.

And if you're asking if I questioned
what that was about exactly.

Sure. Very much so.

She had a point.

No-one owes you their past.

The heart of another
is a dark forest, always.

And it's not as if Anna
didn't pay for stuff.

Dinner, trips,

tipping like a lunatic.

Money always appeared.

Are you ready?Two months later,
in a cab to Park Avenue.

Yellow cab only. Never Uber.

Going to see Anna's building for
the first time, by which I mean,

I was visiting for the first time.
Between meetings with architects

and hedge-fund managers...
So much bullshit. I'm sorry.

..she fitted me in. And this place,
not kidding you, was like Amsterdam,

Flemish, ornate. And in
a mirrored elevator on the way up...

Is this what the architecture
is like in Moscow?

Absolutely not.

You're not nervous?
No. Should I be?

I don't know. My bowels always
kind of judder for these things.

Do you want to know my secret?

For the pitch? Yeah, sure, why not?

OK.

One, stand in the mirror.

Often.
OK, tick.

Two, every conversation
has a winner and a loser.

Yeah, who's winning now?

Three, don't be
amazed by anything. Ever.

Joy, despair,
these are excessive emotions.

For you maybe.
Four,

the world wants to be deceived.

Give them what they want.

Er, really?

Five...

..never contend with someone
who has nothing to lose.

Scary.
Six...

Six?
..if all else fails, cry.

Yeah?

You think?
Maybe.

Those are pretty good.
Where did you get them?

All over.

So, not nervous?

It doesn't matter whether
I am or not, I don't show it

(LIFT BELL DINGS)

And, man, do we get a welcome?
Real estate in Manhattan, no joke,

agent was obsequious
to the point of nausea.

And while Anna spoke to investors...

Post-war and contemporary are
the market's primary locomotive.

I mean, a Warhol sold for 37 million

at Christie's
evening sale last night.

..I looked around.
And, Anna, this place is amazing.

Views over the Hudson,
high ceilings.

A palace of glass and space.
Hirst?

Me.
Nice.

How did it go with the investors?
Oh, they don't understand.

I want to make something
spectacular like Moscow's Metro.

Marble and columns and chandeliers.
You've got to take me.

I will.

God, I'm so close.
To what?

This, my foundation.

You're so impressive.

I just wish I could be part of it.
Shut up.

Serious.
No, Ariel, shut up.

I mean, that... That is not
what this is.I know, I know.

But if your inheritance
is delayed, Anna,

I'm... I'm here, you know? I...

Really?

Well, how much do you need?

Wow! OK.
(LAUGHS) Yeah.Um...

I mean...

Do you want to?

I mean... OK.

I... I think. I...

Look at the size of this place.

Listen to the echo. (ECHOES)

Reminds me of where we first met.
Hmm!

This high up,
everything just looks...

..cleaner.

Anna...Wait...I was gonna say...
No, no. Ariel, hold on.Are you OK?

I like it here with you.

Perfect quiet.

You know...

What?

We met at the right time in my life,

Ariel,

in our lives.

One week later, Anna left town.
Had to reset her ESTA.

During that time,
I take the app international.

Developing markets.
And as I set off to travel,

the pinnacle of my itinerary
is a tech conference in Beijing.

This Beijing meet,
very much not my deal.

Some round-table Futurist CEOs
in Tech thing. Lot of press.

So meeting with
a journalist that morning.

Fact-checker, ball-buster,
gonna be a big Forbes profile.

We meet at this Canton
hotpot place for breakfast.

Shall we start with some figures?
Er, for sign up? Yeah, sure.

I was thinking more like
revenue this yea next to last.

Recent investments.Oh, no, no, no.
We're a private company, dude.

That shit's off the table.

I just think that the long-term
viability of the product

Is worth touching on...Have they
got aspirin here, do you think?

Er, listen, take it from me,
the app is doing very well.

You got figures about growth
in the press pack, right?

Are you OK?
Yep, yep. Fine.

OK. No.

Honestly,
I'm really quite hung over.

Like, there's a fan constantly
going in my head.Right.

Do you want me to put that
on the interview or...? Er...

No.No? OK, should we
get into the app then?

Which I've had access to.
You're on it?

Well, I was put on it. I was
given an account by your team.

Great. You have had a good time?

Saw a lot of good-looking people.

You were searching both?
Sexes? Sure.

But the crowd leans straight, right?

Um, no, I'm not sure that
that's fair.It's definitely fair.

Shall we go to the user reviews?

Um, yes.So, one user I interviewed,
we'll call him Rick.

Rick says he'll never forget
his first Genesis date.Uh-huh.

He met this woman at her
million-dollar New York apartment,

paid for by her father.

Rick tells me, "Within minutes,
this woman had got naked.

"Handed me her phone
and asked me to photograph her.

"The app's incredible," says Rick.

Er, well, I don't see the problem.
Sounds like they had a good time.

Rick did.

Oh, man. Sorry. What is this?
Is this for a quote or whatever?

No, no, I have quotes.
But, I guess, to the point,

what you've created here is a
playpen for beauty snobs, right?

An online frat-house sorority
for star fuckers.

I mean, like your girlfriend.

Wait. What?There's nothing
wrong with that, per se.

You don't know the first thing
about her.I mean sex as networking.

Have you considered that that's
what's on the table here?OK.

Um, you want my justification?

First dates have
always been reveals, right?

Does a person appear to match who
they said they were on the internet?

Are they as good-looking?
Do they really work at Conde Nast?

Are they a creep? So I wanted
to end that period of scepticism.

Now, is there anything
else pressing here

because you seem to have
an agenda and I'm just...

Can I ask you a question about Anna?

Why? I thought this
was about the app.

It'll take that in. But I was just
interviewing another founder here.

He started the Dream Catcher app,
If you know it.No, it...

It sounds stupid.

Right. Well, this guy says he
knew an hour about a year ago.

They toured art fairs together.
Her family's big in antiques.

Antiques? No, her family's from oil.
Right.

Sure. Anyway, this guy says
he paid her way around the world

a couple of times, considered
investing in her foundation.

But then, when he changes his mind

and starts trying
to recoup his money.

He says he has some pretty
weird stories from her.

Hold on. This article is about Anna?

Tangentially.
And do I tell her about the time

Anna skipped out on her hotel bill?

Or the fact that I just
invested $900,000 of my money

towards the lease on her gallery?
I do not.

And, meanwhile, I'm touching down
in Sydney, when this hits

Ariel, it's Jed from Grigorian.

Hey, hey, Jed.
Yeah, you awake?

Er, very much so.
Captured the unicorn yet?

Um, working on it.
I'm actually in Sydney right now.

Just coming up to 3:15 in the a.m.

Right, right.
That's great. That's good, Ariel.

I'm going to cut to the crap.
Yeah, let's... let's do that.

Are you aware of what's
going on in New York?At Genesis?

No, I'm 16 hours out. What's up?
Have you spoken to Marcus?

He's not been in touch.
Is everything kosher?

Listen, Ariel, it sounds like
something's a little wrong.

And it becomes extremely clear
everything, not something, is wrong.

What started as a minor glitch
in onboarding, vetting new clients,

first means no new applications
are being processed.

Then, suddenly,
everyone is allowed on.

The vetting system is broke. All
applications accepted immediately.

And in New York, no-one is picking
up to me and, at that moment,

waiting to board a flight home,
who do I get a call from but...?

Ariel?
Anna? Hey.

Hi. Long time no speak.

Where are you? I... I miss you.

Yeah, I'm at an airport in Sydney.

Oh, that's nice.Got to get
a 21-and-a-half-hour flight.

Yeah, you can watch so many movies.

Yeah. I think I'm mainly
gonna be programming, actually.

Oh, neat.

Yeah. Anna, I'm in the middle of
a work thig, so...Could I see you?

I'm in the departures
lounge in Australia.

What's going on?
When you're back maybe. It's just...

Look, I was... I was wondering
if you would consider

making another investment
in my project.Investment.

Or... Or...Ahh!
..an investment in me?

(LAUGHS) What?
Or like... Or like a loan, maybe.

It's just... I'm having
some cash-flow issues.Yeah.

I already did invest
and the hotel, so...

I thought we were having fun.
Yeah, sure.

But what's that got to do with it?
I'm trying to do this thing here

and it's really hard...
Anna, I'm running a business.

So am I.Right.Look, Ariel,
I overdrafted my account a little.

I just need...
Can you call your parents?

They're not in the country.
They're in Africa, I think.Right.

Um, Anna, flight's boarding.
Got to go.Ariel, I...

I didn't say this before
but I like you.

You know, like, I actually
think I like you, like, for real.

And I mean, I have no idea
what those words mean.

And it's easy to lie
in another language, you know.

Like, in the past,
"I love you, I like you,"

but I don't know what other people
mean when they say those things.

But I thought I hated you and

now I feel like...
But you want me to give you money.

Yes. Just for a little bit until I
get this loan.And you think what?

You think I'm from the Hamptons?
You think I was born with this?

No, but you have connections. You're
American. This is important.Anna.

I'm in trouble!
I'm hanging up.Fuck!

I fly American Airlines.
By the time I get to JFK,

the company is tumbling and
arriving in an Uber to Williamsburg,

I reflect that the value
of the company, my company,

is founded entirely on reputation.

Marcus!Dude.This gimp, this
fucktard, this Princeton dickhole...

Dude, relax.The update,
how long is it gonna take?

We're just struggling
to identify the problem.

These things take a while.
How long?15 hours.

15 hours? Are you kidding me? That's
a lifetime. What the fuck happened?

Oh, um...
Am I speaking in code?

Or one of the many languages
you do not know?Um, man...

Think it runs itself?
You think it comes out easy?

Dude, we...Look out the window
at the grid system. You think what?

You think God designed that?
Did it happen by chance?

Ariel.We run an operating system.
Everything is an operating system.

It's your job to keep that going,
that continuity.

Look, dude, I'm sorry but I mean...
For what?You weren't here.

You took your eye off the ball. You
fucked the membership.Excuse me?

Dude, have you not seen Twitter?

And the same day,
same fucking day, the news broke.

Socialite scammer arrested
on charges of grand larceny.

Dude, isn't this your girlfriend?

And the New York Post had
us pictured at Pace Gallery.

A long feature followed,
"Duped tech CEO boyfriend."

And my recollection of the next day.
the last day of May,

was a dog on the tracks
of Williamsburg Bridge,

delaying my subway home
for over an hour.

And the reason I remember this
is that I was on a journey back

from an EGM with
our investors in Manhattan,

where I'd been told,
"Brand value damaged.

"Failing fast allows us all to move
on quickly and quietly. Next time."

And just like that, warp speed,

from the next big thing yesterday

to yesterday's news today.

So, I guess I could say I apologise

for the mistakes I made.

But, beyond that,
you criticise me for my actions.

What they say about me.

My father said that I was
such a selfish character,

no-one could do anything about it.

I was like that by nature.

So, I guess you could say

I'm not a good person.

And you should be yourself.

Authenticity isn't
necessarily telling the truth.

And sometimes
it's necessary for an individual

to stand out from the crowd.

So I don't regret it... as such.

And sometimes I sit in my room

in the rain of my humiliation

publicly

and I feel really blessed...

..for what I know is...

..it has been my great privilege
to come to your country,

to speak your language

and to be accepted into your hearts.

I watched Anna's testimony
nine months later

from my parents' living room
in St Louis.

I lost my apartment.
I'd driven from the East Coast,

didn't know when
I was gonna be back.

She was facing three to eight years,

having had a plea deal rejected.

The judge cited lack of remorse.

and the charge sheet was impressive.

Fraud, grand larceny,
theft of services,

all in pursuit of a loan
that would never materialise

towards an arts foundation
that would never exist.

She was one cheque away
from legitimacy.

Not long after, an article
appeared on Anna's story.

She was from Ukraine, not Russia.

Or France.

Her father was a truck driver.

And, as I read this article,
I looked up Anna's Instagram.

It was still there.
Mausoleum to a fake life.

The rain was steady out, news said
court was adjourning for the day

and I switched on a video game that
my brother had bought a year before.

It was a Western
about a gang of outlaws

trying to outrun modernity.
And I realised

that was the game
I'd wanted to make.

A vast, detailed open world,

a horizon slipping
ceaselessly from you.

And it made me think about my work,
what that was for.

All those companies,

start-ups once,

each with its story,
each with its once upon a time.

Everyone the main character
on their journey.

A name carved into
history against the grain.

And so I decided to visit Anna.

(LIGHTS BUZZ AND HUM)

So the building sold.

It went to some Scandinavian guys
making a photography museum.

(CHUCKLES) That's a shame.

You could have come sooner.

You took my money.

You wanted me to.

Am I still on Genesis?

You're still on. Yeah, people
don't really use it anymore

but you're still on.

Do I have a lot of matches?
Oh, yeah.

You're a big deal now.

You know, Damien Hirst says

what I like is minimum effort
for maximum effect.

I like this.

You know, I always
thought of Damien Hirst

as more of a businessman
than an artist.

Exactly. Hmm!

So, the app is not a thing anymore?

Not really.

It broke, my idea broke.

I, er, took my eye off the ball.

(SIGHS) I am actually
working on something new.

Can I ask you something?

Do you ever go to Moscow?
St Petersburg?

No, I've never been to Russia.

Not to the Metro stations?

Never.

All the other stuff?

Not as such.

How's it here?

Not that bad.

Prison is not that bad
at all, actually.

I tend to see it as
a zoological experiment, kind of.

The people here
are really fascinating.

There are murderers and people
who steal other people's identities.

It's OK.

I go to the library.

People treat books carefully,
like dishes.

You don't regret it?

Like, any of it?

I mean, didn't we have something?

That's a cliche.

Yeah.

Well, I was enjoying it.

You know, the night we met...

..I did think that
things could be...

I don't know.

I felt...
High?

Different.

But everyone wants women
to apologise, right?

I'm not saying that.

Of course not.

So, no, like, grand plan or...?

Who says I don't have a plan?

And the thing about this country
is it's a playground.

If you lie in America and
it gets you where you want,

you're an entrepreneur,
not a criminal.

But where I'm from, it's like
one of the dark places on Earth.

It's cold, they have
psychics, witches. It's hell.

Because what do we have?
Crimean wine, a flat economy

and girls who...

who dream of being surrogate
wombs for American women.

We have iron ore,
we have metal, we have coal

and coal, OK,
coal does not want to be coal.

It wants to be diamonds.

So, if I could do it again, I would.

I would do it more.

Miss you.

(LAUGHS) I think.

No. No, you miss the idea of me.

The concept.

Isn't that like love?

Ariel.

Do you want to play a game?

(CHUCKLES)

Sure.

My turn or yours?
Yours.

My.

Unbearable.

Snowflake.

Dream.

OK. Period.

Period?
What kind of sentence is that?

My unbearable snowflake dream.

No, that's it. That's great.

Perfect.

(APPLAUSE)

(CHEERING)

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# I love the games you play
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