All language subtitles for Doctor.Who.2023.S02E05.1080p.WEB.h264-ETHEL

A long time ago, back in the village
when I was a small boy,

a fire was eating the forest.

People running and screaming.

But me, I ran to the river
with my little cup to get water.

They laughed at me.
"What are you doing?"

"What I can!" I shouted
and ran back to pour it on the fire.

Suddenly, a blue box appeared
in the skies over the fire.

And a man stood at the door
with a hosepipe.

Spraying and spraying

until all the fires went out.

He landed the box
in the middle of the burnt forest

and started scattering fresh seeds.

I went over to thank him.

"Are you a farmer?" I asked.

"No. I am the Doctor."

We shook hands. And that's how we met.

Nice. Good. Great…

Great story.

And you're sure
that this Doctor will come?

Yes.

He always comes when needed.

- Hey!
- Walahi!

The Doctor…
we need him now. It needs feeding.

You need to get me home.

I promise I am doing everything I can to...

Wait.

Oh, why did I not think of this before?

Ah, we can boost the Vindicator
if we go to…

- Of course!
- Go where?

Lagos, Nigeria.

It has the largest communications
technology market in Africa.

And it's near Omo's Palace.

- Omo's Palace?
- My favourite barbershop.

Omo, the owner, is a friend of mine.
We met in a fire.

Barbershop? But the TARDIS does your hair.

It does. It does.

Uh, I don't go there for cuts.
It's hard to explain.

Okay… Try explaining.

Ah. 2019. A great year.

I'm not human.

I am an evolved life-form.

And, uh…

…my body changes a lot.

It's the first time
I've had this Black body.

In some parts of the Earth
I'm now treated differently.

But here, in Africa, in that barbershop,
I'm accepted.

I'm able to forget.

We…

Boy, we…

we laugh. We tell stories. They…

Treat you like one of their own?

Yeah.

My nan took me to India whenever she could
for the same reason.

You say you're not human, but that's
the most human thing ever, Doctor.

Go on then. Take as long as you need.

This is gonna look so nice on you.
So nice.

Auntie!

Oh!

I'm good, my guy.

Brother!

- Hey!
- Hey! How are you?

Uncle.

- How far, now?
- How far, now? You're good?

Yeah.

And that is why
the tortoise has a cracked shell.

- Omo?
- Doctor.

- Hey!
- Come in.

I told you he would come.

You! You ruined the end now.

- It might not be enough.
- Excuse you?

Omo, who does he think he's talking to?

Wait.
You're on the missing posters.

All of you. They're on the walls outside.

Rashid, Tunde, Obioma.

Doctor, you haven't come in years.

And standards have slipped.
Damp and misty outside, dusty in here.

It's not me.

New management.

Welcome.

I've been expecting you.

Welcome to my establishment.

Your establishment?
Why's the street deserted?

Why isn't Obioma leaving?

Why are they on all the missing posters?

They cannot leave.

No one can.

You are the all-knowing Doctor
who is supposed to save us

and you don't know anything, huh?

Save you from what?

Rest… …Obioma.
He hasn't been in years.

He doesn't know.
He never makes appointments.

Yes. Besides,
appointments never work in Africa.

What are you talking about?

Who's next?

Your hair.

We're running out of stories!

Look at his hair.

Me. I've got this.

Once upon a time,
a great musician Yo-Yo Ma,

was travelling through Botswana
collecting local music,

when he heard a shaman singing.

Yo-Yo Ma said,
"Stop. Wow. I have to write this down."

He wrote a bit, then said, "Carry on."

But the shaman
sang a completely different song.

Yo-Yo Ma said, "No. Sing the first one."

The shaman said, "I cannot.

The first time,
an antelope was in the distance.

Clouds covered the sun.

The second time, clouds had gone,
antelope disappear, so the song changed."

You see, in the old days,
music was a live thing.

But after industrial revolution,

people became obsessed with producing
identical things to package time.

But not in Africa.

That is why we say we will come at 1:00
but won't arrive till 3:00.

So, appointments, bad idea.

I don't know how much more I can take.
The tension is getting unbearab...

Wow. Wow.

Incredible.

The drawings in the window
are a visual interpretation of his story.

Cool, right?

Dalek. Cybermen. Weeping Angels.

Uh, you need to be getting a cut
for that to work.

They're all connected.
The windows, chairs, his clippers.

And you must tell a story, Doctor.

We must feed it. It is always hungry.

What is hungry, Omo?

The Barber controls it. Him and Abby.

Uh…

Are we under attack? TARDIS? Hello?

Thank you again, Abby.

Abby?

Every day she brings us food.
We'd be lost without her.

I know that face.

Why do I know your face?

What have I done to...

We know who you are.

Intergalactic busybody Time Lord.

Last of his kind and so on.

So you told them, Omo?

How could I not?
You're the greatest story I know.

Well, if you put it like that.

But why do I know her face? Abby.

The Barber's assistant?

She told me that
they both used to work for her father,

but he was mean, so they left.

Her father?

And they're keeping you here?

Until we reach their destination.

We're travelling?

This is…

Oh, Omo, what is going on?

It's the Barber.

He turned up one day and offered
to give me a haircut in my own shop.

I thought it was a nice thing.
I said, "Okay."

He brought out his own clippers.

And as soon as they touched me, a sort of
current just ran through the whole shop.

And like magic, like witchcraft, it seemed
to transfer itself, its soul to him.

I tried to open the door.
My keys didn't work.

Tried to stop my clients,
but the shop demanded a select few.

The ones who love this place.
They pushed in.

These are men I've known for years.

Decades. They're like sons to me.

I came to get a trim
for my child's naming ceremony.

My wife…

We'd been married for less than a year.

I'm an athlete. Relay, 100 metres.

I came to get a cut for the championship.

I miss my team and my big sister.
She trained me.

My mother is in hospital.

Omo was lending me money for her medicine.

I wanted a fresh cut to see her.

There's someone waiting
for me too, Doctor.

The girl with the blue earrings
the day we met.

We both came to the city together,

but I spent most of my time in here

and not enough with her.

So, whose story
will enchant us now?

- I don't... I don't have anything.
- You don't have to say anything.

I'll speak.

Let me out.

Tell a story.

- It's the only way.
- I changed my mind.

Doctor, tell it for us.
It will be easier for you. A big story.

Okay. You want a story
about Weeping Angels and Ice Warriors,

but nothing is more vivid
than an ordinary life.

One person. Belinda.

On any given day, nurses are knackered,
and after a 13-hour shift, she was done.

His pictures are alive.

She was going home,
but she heard something.

Oh, uh, Belinda,
could you take her obs?

We need bloods,
X-ray for her chest and IV fluids.

Hypotensive, systolic's at 89.

Tachycardic is under 100.
Vomited a few times.

Oh, it's okay.

Infection?
Maybe gastroenteritis.

Have you considered steroids?

What, for a chest infection?

No, her fingers.
She's got rheumatoid arthritis.

Might have put herself
in an Addisonian crisis.

Here. Hyperpigmentation.

No, it's too subtle. It's barely there.

Dehydration, nausea, vomiting.

An Addisonian crisis
can present like this.

It happened to my nan.
Without steroids she could die.

You're right. She's yours.

It's my nan's birthday.

All night,
she guarded that frail life.

Sacrificing her own joy…

We're speeding up?

…fighting her tiredness.

Until the doctors wheeled her away.

Two weeks later, Belinda was leaving work.

- Hi, Belinda. Just picking up my pills.
- Hi.

Don't be silly. I'll be there around 7:00.
Love you, Nan.

Oh.

It's you. Up on your feet. Wow.

I know what you did for me.

Well, the doctors took over,
but you saved my life.

Thank you.

The batteries are full.
Fullest they've been since the early days.

First time is the hardest.

From now,
it will be as easy as getting a haircut.

What is happening?

You were right, Omo.

His stories alone
can super-power the engine.

You see? Look.

Look how much his hair has grown.
You can let us go now.

This changes everything.

We'll get there sooner.

You can finally take the throne
and rule fairly. Justly.

I must recalibrate the engine.

Such raw power.

Check the stasis field
for structural damage.

Then let's meet in the engine room.

It's okay. Just relax, okay?

TARDIS, locate origin! Show source!

The barbershop?

- …now, look at this.
- Oh, no. I don't want any. Thank you.

I'm in a rush. Sorry.

I will give you discount.

Oh!

Ah! Madam, you must pay for this.

Sorry, I…

I have no money.

Who they cause trouble?

You planned this, Omo?

I have to get these men home.

And because I have no home, I'm what?
I'm expendable?

Their families need them.

And I have none, so I don't matter?

No. No, Doctor. Doctor, you have stories.
That's all I was thinking.

I love this shop.

I loved you, Omo.

I thought it was a home for me.

I was safe.

So, he's not here now.
Open the door and go.

- We can't.
- You can.

- There's nowhere to go.
- I opened it from the outside.

It's different from inside.

- Doctor, Doctor, Doctor...
- Do not talk to me ever again.

I trusted you with both of my hearts,
with everything that I am.

How could you?

Look, it doesn't matter. If he opens
that door, none of us are getting out...

- Got it.
- No!

No!

What the hell is this?

You are confused, aren't you, Doctor?

The shop is in outer space
and in Lagos at the same time.

How?

And that… that structure that I saw?

The Nexus.

I used to call it the World Wide Web

until the humans
named something far uglier after that.

There is a time-space compressor
that goes between,

that is built into the door frame.

That only lets her and myself out.

We control it.

And we're travelling on a spider?

Wait, you saw the beast?

Impossible, but true.

A spider that they control.

Where are we going?

You'll find out soon enough.

Doctor.

Wait, is that…

It took you long enough.

Alarms on the TARDIS
must have been going off.

Yeah. Nearly blew my ears off.

You're the nurse from his story.

Your companion?

So where have you been?
Did he leave you behind?

Tell you to wait?

No. I told him to go actually.

Wait. You're all missing.

Doctor, what's going on?

- And who is that?
- I'm still figuring that one out.

All he has done is stomp around,
giving people awful haircuts.

And… And they are all scared of him.

He…

who hides his identity like a coward.

A troll on the web.

Don't be scared.

We will leave here.

There is nothing that he can do.

He has no real power.

You want to know who I am?

I go by many names.

Anansi, the man-spider.

Saga, the Norse goddess.

Bastet.

Dionysus, the Greek god of theatre.

Even Loki, god of mischief.

I have been them all.

In many cultures,
in many worlds, in many incarnations.

It does not matter what I am called.

It matters who I am, what I do.

- And what is it that you do?
- I begin all things!

I am the voice in the empty void.

I am the spark.

The seed. The dark nucleus.

The lie that tells the truth.

The well of words.

The Godfather Griot.

The djeli before.

The tall tale itself.

And this, Doctor…

this…

is my domain.

This barbershop?

Our barbershop?

- Yes.
- And you were all those Story Lords?

Yes.

All those gods. You?

Are you sure?

Yes.

Why are you laughing? What's so funny?

I don't know.

He's lying to you. He's lying.

I met Dionysus.

We drank so much wine,
we caused a drought in Athens.

Saga and I watched Marvel movies
up until Endgame.

She didn't like Thor.
Muscles were too small.

I played chess with Bastet.

I let her think that
she let me let her win.

She kicked my ass thoroughly.

And Anansi purposely lost a bet
to make me marry one of his daughters.

I know the gods.

You are not them.

Tell the truth.

Who are you?

You don't have to answer them.

Look at me. Don't let him get to you.

Who are you?

I was the one behind them all.

It was me.

I was once human.

Whenever we told stories,
the storytelling gods would grow in power.

The gods needed to strengthen
their bonds with humanity.

Wherever they told stories, I went.

I told their myths, their legends.

Cleaned them up, printed them in books
so that the gods could be worshipped.

That was my job.

They only exist now…

because of me.

My work.

- And the Nexus?
- He built that too.

I wanted something
like the brain.

Flexible, strong, that could expand
and make connections between ideas.

So I took a strand of their gods' blood
and essence, and built a model.

A web-like structure that they expanded
to what you saw now,

cross-connecting concepts,
cultures and ideas.

The Nexus.

How did you collect the stories?

I started small.

A pub lit by candles,

a Catholic church confession box,

a coal-powered theatre,

an electric cinema, a space opera.

Until I had the idea to power the vehicle
with stories itself.

I worked for centuries,

and all I wanted was to be recognised.

They told me that I should know my place.

I primed the Nexus so well
that it worked without me.

So they threw me out.
Out of my life's work.

All I salvaged was my Story Engine.

We will have vengeance, Doctor.

We have stopped moving.

The engine burned too much energy holding
us together when he forced the door open.

Typical Doctor. Irresponsible.

I have never… Wait.

That's it.

Abby, the daughter of Anansi.

Abena. That is your full name, isn't it?

Don't you dare speak it.

- Oh, oh.
- You are not worthy.

I grew up trapped with Anansi,

terrified someone would win me in a bet.

I'd heard about you
travelling through time.

I had faith you would help.

Instead, you left me.

I'm here because of you.

You humiliated me, Doctor.

You look so different now.

I am sorry
that I couldn't take you with me.

I was a fugitive back then.

Anansi was wrong to offer that bet.

And, frankly, darling,

I was busy in a different story
that might be finished one day.

- You actually took that bet?
- I tried to lose.

Sit, Doctor. Talk now.

Where are we going?

- To the heart of the Nexus.
- To do what?

To install the shop there

and make him storyteller supreme,

a trustworthy and careful God.

That is what he's told you?

That he's gonna become everything
that he hates and despises?

And you believe him?

He would not lie to me.

We need a story, now!

I know vengeance, and I can taste his.

It is bile black and bitter.

You are planning something.

What? What? There's nothing I can do.

I'm trapped here. Tell me.

Tell me!

To cut them out of memory!

The gods. All of them.

Severing the gods from the story web,

cutting them from their essence
will destroy them.

Destroy?

As in kill, die, dead as a doornail.

Done. All the gods, gone.

That would destroy your father.

This is my gift to you.

Abena, remember what he did to you.

Betting you. His own child.

Humans are tied to the gods.

Destroying them would harm
the very essence of humanity.

A world without stories.
How would they pass on tradition?

- You knew about this plan?
- No, no.

Is this what you want, Abena?

We need power. Now!

Doctor, you need to sit and talk.

Doctor, please.
Okay, do what he says, okay?

We have to get back home. Our families.

- I can't help him do this.
- Please.

Abena, hurt people hurt people.

Your father hurt you.

The difference between good and evil
is what we do with that pain.

- Enough. Put him in the chair.
- With pleasure.

- Rashid, come.
- No, no, no, no, no. Wait.

- No. Rashid, please, wait!
- I promise I will get you home.

- Please, Doctor.
- I will get you home.

You do not want to do this!

- Doctor!
- Hold him down. Hold him down.

We have to get back home. Okay? I'm sorry!

Stop! Stop! Stop!

I will talk. I will tell a story.

Please, Doctor.

Trust me.

In a time of slavery and deep suffering,

the slaves who broke their chains
and escaped

would return to try to free others.

Slaves were not allowed to carry paper.

They were always stopped and searched.

But the women were very clever.

They could make their hair
into many shapes and patterns,

and in one style,
hair could be braided to the scalp,

bending and curling like roads or paths.

So the women would weave maps
into their hair and pass it on.

Mothers to daughters.

Slave to slave.

Plantation to plantation.

And the slave masters
never checked their hair,

so they shared routes like this
and escaped to freedom.

Mm-hmm. Exactly.

There. All done.

And battery levels are good.

For now.

You look good.

Oh.

So good I could kiss myself.

It's a shame I might have to ruin it.

- Why?
- You'll find out soon enough.

Belinda, now.

Took you long enough.

Oi! Just trying to concentrate.

Abena gave me the map to freedom.

This way. Come on.

Stop. Stop, stop, stop, stop.

This way. Run.

You did this?

I'm revoking your access.

No!

You lied to me for all these years.

I will handle the others.

The map leads to here.

The Story Engine.

A beating heart inside a brain?

Brilliant. What else is a story?

What else could hold all stories?

Quick. Quick. That control desk.

Start ripping out all of the wires, yeah?

I need to disrupt the flow of power.

Get away from my heart.

You have done nothing. Nothing!

We are still on track,
and then I will cut them off.

All the gods!
They will shrivel up and die!

You did all this to kill them?

Of course. They deserve it.

Rubbish! This is your ego.

- Wanna hear a story?
- No,

- don't give him any more power.
- Really short! Really short.

You know Hemingway?

I saw some of his books back there.
I met him.

I wanted to see how good he was,
so I challenged him.

"Hemmy, baby,
write me the shortest story you can."

He wrote it in six words.
Short as hell. Do you wanna hear mine?

I'm born.

I die.

I am born!

You are giving me power? But how, huh?

I am not connected to you!

No. The engine is connected to me,

my stories, my voice.

Look. On!

…universe can do what we're doing.

Just this once!

I'm the Doctor. I'm a Time Lord.

When you fire that first shot,
no matter how right you feel,

you have no idea who's going to die.

When people need help, I never refuse.

I am definitely not
the man I was.

My body is like a barbershop.

All of them inside,
telling their stories, bickering.

I will not fail them.

You told a never-ending story?

And gave me never-ending power?

He's taken out a third of the engine.

You can't process that power.

Your engine could overload and explode!

We'll all be sucked into space!

You will not do that?

You will not!

No! No!

Would you?

Eh?

The stories say you protect life...

That is what I am doing.

You destroy the gods,
you wreck seven billion lives!

- Seven billion, or us!
- No. No!

I control the engine,
you control the doors.

Let them out.

You were once mortal.

Their lives and their stories will end
because of you.

Do you want that?

Do you?

The shop is compressing.
The corridor is now a straight line.

Go. You go.

I will be right behind you. Yeah?

Belinda, I will be right behind you.

- Okay? Okay?
- Okay.

I'll wait for you!

- Go!
- Go!

What are you doing?

Listen to me.

What would your six-word story be?

What would the essence of your life be?

I want you to live long enough
to write it.

Don't let this be how your story ends.

- Doctor! Doctor!
- Go back! Go back!

- No! Where is he?
- He'll make it. He'll make it.

- There they are!
- Come, come, come quick! Come!

Doctor! Doctor!

Okay. All right.

Thank you for keeping
your promise, Doctor.

Abby, he rescued us, but you…

you kept us alive.

Rise.

And, little brother, run, like the wind.

Go, go, go.

Run. Greet your families for me.

I'll win all the races!

I'm going to find
my wife and child! And my mother!

All I wanted was
to be credited for my work.

I've spent my entire existence
serving the gods.

What will I do now?

What you do best. Keep collecting stories.

Start your own barbershop.

No need. I'm retiring.

I shouldn't have…
I thought you could handle anything.

I can because you look after me too.

But you are part of my community.
I should have protected you. Eh?

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry too.

Hmm.

Yeah.

Take care.

Let all this settle and continue.

Me? I don't belong here.

I don't even have a name
for people to trust.

Try "Adétòkundbo."

My father's name.

Thank you.

I don't deserve this kindness.

So what will you do now?

Anything I want.

I understand if you hate him.

I won't have that in my heart.

What did you say?

"Hurt people hurt people."

Hmm! Imagine. A mortal teaching
a god life lessons?

Thank you, Doctor.

I will be back for a haircut

and for that six-word story.

Good luck.

Did you see a child?

A child?

Yeah. I saw a spooky kid back there.

I didn't see anything.

But the stories were leaking out,
getting mixed up.

Okay. Well, you have to tell me about Omo.

Ah, Omo! Hmm!

It's a long story, but…

once upon a time…

Welcome to the 803rd
Interstellar Song Contest.

- At arms.
- I will survive. I will find you.

You can still help those people.

Pop.

Can't we call for rescue?

Doctor!