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student:
"It is not chaos or death.

"It is form
and union and plan.

"It is eternal life.

"It is happiness.

"The past and present wilt.

"I have filled them,
emptied them,

"and proceed to fill
my next fold of the future.

"Listener up there!
What have you
to confide to me?

"Look in my face
while I snuff
the sidle of evening.

"Talk honestly,
no one else hears you,

and I stay
only a minute longer."

"Do I contradict myself?

"Very well then,
I contradict myself.

I am large,
I contain multitudes."

My God.

What is it?

Clearly something more
interesting than Whitman.

California.
There was another earthquake.

A huge chunk's gone
from Santa Barbara to Fresno.

- student 2: It's fucking crazy.
- Into the ocean.

- Just like that.
- teacher: Alright, alright.

Settle down.

Got no connection.

Anybody else have one?

student: No.

teacher: Oh, eh, sorry.
Network's still down.

I've got his file here, though.

Uh, Dylan's
been diving lately.

I mean, this semester,
he's gone

from As and Bs to Ds.

You keep hard copies?

When the network
started acting up,

a lot of us started
keeping hard copies.

What do you think? I mean,
you think it's coming back?

Well, I don't, I don't know.

Dylan's mom:
I remember the world
before the internet.

Why is it so hard to imagine
carrying on without it?

It is, though, isn't it?

How do we go back?
How-- Can we go back?

What if it's down
for good this time?

Internet's still down.

teacher:
Yeah, but lucky for us,

I've got hard copies
for each student.

parent:
I think this might be it.

I don't think
it's coming back this time.

You might be right.

But I do think
we should talk
about Emily.

Her attendance
has really fallen off.

Her attendance?

Absenteeism's
at an all-time high

all over the world.

We got doctors
and pilots and cops

and everyone's just pissing
the fuck off, right?

But you, you want to talk
to us about Emily?

parent 2:
How are they supposed
to study, anyway?

Web's been on the fritz
for eight months.

Half those sites
are just garbled.

I mean, I get it,
sites go dark.

But what about
all that other stuff?

Like, sites are there,
but all the punctuation's wrong.

Words spelled wrong.
How do you explain that?

Well, I can't,

but Brian can still
prepare for class.

I mean,
the library's still here.
Internet or not.

Pornhub's down.

Did you know that,
Mr. Anderson?

Yeah, I, uh,

I, I, I had
noticed that. Yeah.

Sorry if Bri's
been any trouble.

It's just me now.
His mom...

she left,
I don't know where.

That's been happening
a lot more I hear,

people just ghosting.

Hers was some star-crossed
boyfriend from high school.

They dated a month.

Goddamn month.
She's gonna throw 20 years

in the trash
to chase down a month.

I guess she never stopped
thinking about him.

I guess we've all got
someone like that.

I mean, I get it,
if it really is the end,

like those kooks
in the purple robes say,

then who do you want
to be with for it?

But to leave her son?

Uh, she says she'll be back.

I don't know. Um...

Fuckin' Pornhub.

What if that
never comes back?

Fuckin' tragedy.

I mean, even if it is
the end of all things...

that's just fuckin' mean.

- Sorry.
- Yeah.

reporter:
It's a scene of devastation

and heartbreak in California,

as rescue workers sift
through what remains

of the northern portion
of the state.

reporter 2: 350 dead
in North Yorkshire

as water levels
continue to...

narrator:
The day Marty Anderson

first saw the billboard

was just before the internet
finally went down for good.

It had been wobbling
for eight months,

but other problems,
like fires, earthquakes,

and whole species of birds
and fish dying off

had taken priority.

newscaster [on radio]:
...till today, thought to be

the largest wildfire
in United States history.

♪ Well, I feel so good

♪ Everything is getting high

narrator: Ordinarily,
Marty would've driven home

by way of
the Turnpike bypass,

but that wasn't possible

due to the collapse
of the bridge

over Otter Creek.

♪ So glad we made it

♪ You gotta

♪ Gimme, gimme some lovin'

♪ Gimme some a-lovin'

♪ Gimme, gimme some lovin'

♪ Gimme some a-lovin'
every day ♪

NPR host [on radio]:
Well, with what
happened in California,

that officially makes Nevada
one of the most

populous states
in the Union now.

NPR host 2: The thing that
must be said here is...

narrator:
Felicia Gordon is a nurse

at City General.

Though for
the last few weeks,

she's felt more
like an undertaker.

The staff, whose numbers
have been dwindling

since late summer,
have begun referring

to themselves
as the Suicide Squad.

NPR host [on radio]: We'll be
back to talk more about this

and, uh, also about the fires
in the Midwest,

speaking of water scarcity,
back after this break.

announcer [on radio]:
We'd like to say thank you

to Charles Krantz

for 39 great years.

Thanks, Chuck.

man: Hey.

Heard you got another one.

Yeah. One more.

nurse: Mine wasn't so lucky.
Slit wrists, so...

what were we supposed
to do really?

Hear about Marilou?

No. What about Marilou?

She left!

- Her ex. Remember Pedro?
- Mm-hm.

He showed up, and I don't know
what he said to her,

but she walked out
holding his hand.

And I remember how bad
that divorce was.

- Do you remember?
- Yeah, I remember.

Well, I guess
that's all bridge water

'cause off she went.

reporter [on radio]:
...sinkholes that have
been opening up.

nurse: I wonder what
the stats are.

You think more people
are splitting up

or getting back together?

I mean, do you think
marriage rates are up

- or divorce rates--
- Marriages.

- You're an optimist.
- No.

Divorce takes way longer,

and I don't think
anyone's filing.

Why bother? Six months
of paperwork at least.

Probably more.

Marriage license
is one page

and it takes an hour or so.

I'm gonna guess marriages.

man [on TV]: Missed you for
lunch, missed you for dinner.

What's the matter?
Don't you eat anymore?

woman [on TV]: Well,
I wasn't hungry tonight.

man: Weren't you hungry
this morning either?

woman: Who stole my nylons?

Egads! The very...
Not very.

man: Too much rehearsal
last night, huh?

woman:
It was kind of a workout.

man:
That why you slept late?

woman:
Oh, I didn't sleep late.

I went uptown.

- man: Shopping?
- woman: No.

Hey.

Felicia Gordon [on phone]:
Hi.

You hung up?

Yeah.

But then I figured
you probably saw it. So...

How are you?

Marty Anderson [on phone]:
I'm okay, I guess.

How are you?

I was, um,
thinking about you today.

We were at work talking
about marriages and divorces.

Like, which are happening
more now--

Marriages, I bet.

Ain't nobody waiting
on a divorce.

What about remarriages?

You want to buy
a guy a drink first or...

I bet those are happening.

I mean, it makes sense.

People wanting something
comforting and...

familiar.

So... how was your day?

You're just going right
for it, aren't you?

Humor me.

It was, um...

It was a day, I guess.

You know? Weird.

Parent-teacher sessions,

felt like pissing
in the wind.

You know about
California, right?

Yeah.

I know they're saying most
of it was already evacuated,

but I heard today
there are hundreds of thousands

of refugees trekking east.

Did you know Nevada
is one of the most

populous states
in the Union now?

I heard a, a scientist
on NPR say

California is peeling away
like old wallpaper.

And another Japanese reactor
got inundated this afternoon.

And they're saying, you know,
it was shut down and all's well,

but I just, I, I don't
think I believe that.

Cynic.

Well, we're living
in cynical times, Marty.

I mean, some people think
we're living in the last times.

Not just the religious
crazies either.
Not anymore.

And you are hearing
that from a member
in good standing

of the City General
Suicide Squad.

That's what we
call ourselves now.

No lie.

We lost six today,
but there's 18 more

we dragged back,
mostly with naloxone.

But supplies of that
are getting very thin.

And I heard
the head pharmacist say

we might be completely out
by the end of the month.

That sucks.

Yeah. Yeah.

Yeah, that sucks.
It, it really sucks.

The internet's down,
and California's hanging

by a thread.

There's fires and famines

and plagues
and all the rest.

I mean, it just

the center doesn't hold.

It just won't let up.

How long is this
gonna go on?

How much can we take
before the whole thing...

before the whole thing
goes apart, I mean.

I'm teaching the kids
Carl Sagan right now.

You ever hear what he said
about the cosmic calendar?

Uh... I don't know.
I don't think so.

Well, the universe
is 15 billion years old.

And if you took all of that,

all, all 15 billion years

and compress them into
a single calendar year,

then the Big Bang happens in
the first second, January 1st.

And, and today,

oh, right now, we're in
the final millisecond

of the last minute
of the last day,

December 31st.

But if you go back
to the start,

if the,
if the Big Bang happens

at midnight, January 1st,

then each month
of this calendar

is one and a quarter
billion years long.

Hey, nobody told me
there was math on this exam.

The universe starts
January 1st,

but the, uh,
the Milky Way didn't form

until May.

Our sun and our earth,

they don't show up
until mid-September.

Life appears soon after.
But not us.

No. No, no, we don't appear
for guess how long?

Again, I was told
there'd be no math.

December 31st.

Last day on the calendar,

and the very first
human beings on Earth

made their debut

around 10:30 p.m.

10:30 p.m. on the last day.

And, um, every minute
since then

is 30,000 years.

So, 11:46 p.m.,

only 14 minutes ago,
humanity tamed fire

and now we're out of minutes,
we're into seconds.

11:59 and 20 seconds,

the domestication
of plants and animals begin,

an application for the
human talent for making tools.

11:59 and 35 seconds,

agricultural communities

evolved into
the first cities.

Our recorded history,

everyone we've ever heard of,

every single thing in any one
of our history books...

happens in the last 10 seconds.

The last 10 seconds

of the last minute

of the last day
on the calendar.

December 31st.

So how long is it
gonna go on?

I don't know, Fel.

If you're right,
and you might be,

that this really is
the, the last times

and the universe is dying,

and let's just say
it's a fast death,

even if all of this
is happening in the,

the last split second,

microsecond,

who knows how long
that'll last.

Maybe seconds,
maybe eons.

Maybe all this is happening
as the cosmos burps out

its last breath.

Maybe it's all happening
in the last

single solitary heartbeat.

Jesus, Marty.

Yeah.

Listen, Fel, I should go.
I've, um...

I've got tests to grade.

Marty...

the world is going
down the drain,

and all we can say
is, "That sucks."

So, maybe we're going
down the drain too.

Maybe.

But, you know,
Chuck Krantz is retiring.

So...

...I guess there's a gleam
of light in the darkness.

Yes.
Thirty-nine great years.

Oh, you saw
that weird billboard?

No, it was an ad
on the radio that, um,

that NPR show
I was telling you about.

If they're
running ads on NPR,

it really is
the end of the world.

Tell me,
how does Chuck Krantz

rate this kind of coverage?

I mean... looks
like an accountant.

I've never heard of him.

Used an old photo too,
I guess.

I mean, the guy
barely looks 40 at all,

let alone 40 years
on the job.

The world is full
of mysteries.

And, hey,
no hard stuff, Marty.

Okay? Have a beer instead.

You got it.

newsreader [on TV]:
The Ohio EPA has now issued

a code red
air quality alert

for Cleveland
and its surrounding--

Oh, shit on a stick.

announcer [on TV]:
We'd like to say thank you

to Charles Krantz

for 39 great years.

Thanks, Chuck.

Gus!

Oh. Hey, Marty.

Where's your car?

It's... it's on,

it's on the sidewalk
halfway down

Main Street Hill
with a hundred others.

I finally just had
to turn around.

Fuck it, I walked...

What do you think it is,
like, three miles?

I just walked three miles.

Oh, you're going to school.
Hold on a sec.

Uh, real quick,
you gotta, you gotta go,

listen to me,
you gotta go out Route 11

and then hook back
on, on, on 19.

Yeah. There's gonna be
plenty of traffic.

You gotta go out
at least 20 miles.

You might make it
before lunch.

- I wouldn't count on it.
- What happened?

Giant sinkhole opened up
on Market and Main.

Man, the-the thing,
it, uh, it's huge.

All the rain probably had
something to do with it,

lack of maintenance
maybe more so.

But it's not my department,
thank God.

But, yeah, there's,
there's gotta be

20 cars at the bottom.

And some of the people
in some of those cars,

they ain't comin' back.

Jesus, I was, I was
just there last night,

backed up in traffic.

Thank God you weren't
there this morning.

I assume you know
about California.

I didn't turn on
the TV this morning.

- Oh!
- Is there something new?

The, the rest of it went.

I-I mean, th-they're saying that
20% of Northern California

is hanging in there,
which probably means,
what, 10%?

But the food-producing regions
are-- they're gone.

And with the Midwest
turning to charcoal

and Florida flooding,
that's like

all the food-producing regions

in the country
just gone.

And the same thing
with Europe.

I mean, it's famine
time in Asia.

There's a million people dead.

They're saying
it's the bub-bublonic,

- bubonic plague.
- Bubonic.

Bu-Bubonic plague. Yeah.

And the bees,
I mean, they were
in trouble a decade ago,

but they're
completely gone now.

I mean, there's a couple
of hives or whatever

down in South America,

but there ain't
no honey, honey.

And without those little guys,
like, what's gonna pollinate

all the crops we have left?

I mean, I can't do--

Excuse me.
One sec.

Yeah, yeah.
That's-that's cool.

A-Andrea? Are you,

are you Andrea
from Midwest Trust?

I'm Felicia Anderson's
husband.

Ex, actually.

I think you and Fel
know each other.

We met at a, a, a game
night at David's.

- A few game nights.
- Yeah, sure.

What do you want?

I just had a long walk,
and my car is stuck,

and the bank is,

it's leaning.

Leaning?

Yeah.

It's on the edge
of the sinkhole.

Guess that's
the end of my job.

Hey, I'm curious
about the billboard

on the bank building.

- Have you seen it?
- How could I miss it?

And I saw the ads too,
on TV.

No more ads for cars
or discount furniture.

Just, "Charles Krantz,

39 great years.
Thanks, Chuck."

So, he doesn't
work at the bank?

He's not retiring
from the bank?

I don't know Charles Krantz.

I think it's just a prank.
Performance art.

Take care.

They look like refugees.

Yeah.

No one looks
that concerned.

What good
would that do?

All was concerned
at the start.

Remember the protests?
You remember...

they knocked over the fence
at the White House,

and all those students
got shot?

- Yeah.
- And the overthrow
of the Russian government.

You got the Four Day War
between Pakistan and India

and the fucking...
the volcano in Germany.

There was a volcano in Germany.
That's, that's crazy.

And we just kept saying,
"Oh, it's gonna blow over."

That doesn't look to be
happening, though, does it?

No.

I think that suicides
will slow down.

I think people
will just... wait.

For what?

The end.

This is the end
of everything.

I mean, we're,
we're going through

the five stages of grief.

Don't you get it?
I mean, we just,

we just landed
on the final stage.

Acceptance.

The waiting...

I think that's
the hardest part.

And the whole thing,
it just, it-it came out
of nowhere, right?

I mean, everyone knew there was
trouble with the environment.

I mean, I think even
the right-wing nutjobs

were secretly,
they got it.

But this...

this...

this is just 60 different
varieties of shit.

It's just so much shit
that happened fast.

It's like a year, man.
Fourteen months.

Sucks.

Yeah. Sucks.

Huh.

Skywriting.

I haven't seen one of those
since I was a kid.

Oh.

What the fuck?

My sentiments... exactly.

Whoa, whoa, whoa,
where have you been?

Are you kidding?

I had to run here.

The traffic's insane,
and half the cars are empty.

Dr. Winston's MIA.

- What?
- Yeah.

He walked in this morning,
and he looked around

and he walked out again.

And now I can't find him.

He dropped his pager
when he walked out.

Okay.
I'll scrub in.

The beds are empty.

Most of them walked out.
I-I-I transferred

the last of the stable ones.

But, Felicia,
there's something weird.

What is that?

What's wrong
with the monitor?

That's the thing,
it-it's, it's not
just that one.

I don't know, Fel.
I don't know.

I mean... I might want
to get out of here.

I might wanna go home.

I don't think I need
to be here anymore.

You okay, sir?

Yeah. Just taking a rest.

I walked downtown
to look at the sinkhole

and take a few pictures
with my phone.

Thought one of
the local TV stations
might be interested,

but they all seem
to be off the air.

Except for pictures
of Krantz.

All Krantz all the time.

- Any idea who he is?
- None.

I've asked two dozen people,
at least. Nobody knows.

Our man, Krantz, is the Oz
of the apocalypse.

Our last meme.

- Where are you heading?
- Harvest Acres.

Nice little enclave
off the beaten track.

I'm heading there myself.

- My ex lives there.
- Huh.

Well...

I can walk with you
if you like.

What do you do, Sam?

If you still do anything,
I mean.

Owner and chief undertaker
for Yarborough Funeral Home.

Oh, man!

Yeah.

We had a boom.

It's hard to feel good
about it,

but business was
never better

than it was
a few weeks ago.

But my real interest's
meteorology.

Dreamed of being
a television weatherman

in my salad days,
maybe even one of the networks.

But n-no.

I keep up, though.

Read the journals.

And I can tell you

something amazing
if you want to hear.

You know how people say
there are 24 hours in a day?

Well, they're wrong.

There were 23 hours
and 56 minutes

in a stellar day.

Plus a few odd seconds.

There "were"?

Based on my calculations,
which I assure you

I can back up,
my math is good,

there are now 24 hours
and two minutes in a day.

Do you know
what that means?

Well, you're saying
the Earth's rotation
is slowing down?

Exactly.

Lot of folks think
all of these disasters

are 'cause of
what we've done
to the environment.

Not so.

I'm the first to admit,
we treated our mother,

yes, she's our mother,
all of us, very badly.

Certainly molested her,
if not outright raped her.

But... we're puny

compared to the great
clock of the universe.

No.

Whatever's happening

is much larger than
environmental degradation.

The math says so.

And, and math can do
a lot of things.

I mean, math can be art...

but it can't lie.

You know what?

I think I'll sit

and enjoy the sunset

while I wait
for the arthritis

to settle a bit.

You care to join me?

I think I'll go on.

The ex. I understand.

Well, it was nice
speaking with you,
Mr. Anderson.

Hey.

Hey.

Don't worry. I'm going
to see my ex-wife,

Felicia Anderson.

I think she's back
to Gordon now.

She lives on Fern Lane,
number 19.

Yeah, I know Miss Gordon.

What are you doing out?

I wanted to go skating.

I used to love skating.

Then you should go skating.

Maybe I should.

Why do you see Miss Gordon
if she's your ex?

I still like her.

girl: Do you fight?

We used to.

We get along better
now that we're exes.

Miss Gordon gives us
gingersnap cookies sometimes.

I like Oreos better, but...

That's just the way
the cookie crumbles, right?

Gingersnaps don't crumble.

At least not until
you crunch them--

You better go home,
I guess.

It's too dark for skating
without streetlights.

Is everything gonna be okay?

Sure it is.

Go home.

Go home
to your Mom and Dad.

Do it now.

Huh?

Oh, thank God.
Oh, thank God.

- Thank God.
- They, they just...

They just, they just
started showing up.

No, I know, I know, I saw.

Is it just here?

I think it's everywhere.

I think it's almost...

Yeah...

Yeah, I think it's almost...

It's the brightest
I've ever seen the stars.

Just look at that.

There's Aquila the eagle.

Mm-hm.

There's, uh...

Cygnus the swan.

You see it?

And there's the North Sta--

Did you just see that?

Yeah.

There goes Mars.

I'm scared.

I am too.

Chuck's wife:
It's okay, honey.

You go on.

You go on ahead, okay?

Just thirty-nine years.

Thirty-nine great years.

Thanks, Chuck.

♪ Gimme some a-lovin'

♪ Gimme, gimme some lovin'

♪ Gimme some a-lovin'

♪ Gimme some a-lovin'

I love y--

narrator: With the help
of her friend, Mac,

who has an old van,

Taylor Franck sets up
her drum kit

in her favored spot

on the Eighth Street
Promenade.

It's Thursday afternoon.

The weather
is fucking gorgeous,

and the streets
are thronged with people

looking forward
to the weekend,

which is always better
than the weekend itself.

- All good. Taylor?
- Yeah, thanks.

Ten percent is all
the thanks I want, dude.

narrator:
Taylor, and Mac too,

work part-time

at Doctor Records
on Castle Street.

But on a good day...

...Taylor can make
almost as much busking.

Busk-drumming isn't what
her parents saw for her

when she enrolled
at Juilliard,

and they don't know yet
that she dropped out.

Juilliard wanted you to think
about what you were doing,

but as far as Taylor
is concerned,

the beat is your friend
and thinking is the enemy.

She starts warming up,
going easy at first.

Slow tempo, no cowbell,

not minding that
the magic hat stays empty

except for her
two crumpled dollars

and a quarter
flipped contemptuously

by a dude
on a skateboard.

There is time.
There is a way in.

Finding the in
is half the fun.

Maybe even most of it.

Janice Halliday
is on her way home

from seven hours
at Paper and Page,

and may walk all the way
to the ocean.

Her boyfriend of 16 months
just broke up with her,

and he did it
the modern way.

Motherfucker!

narrator:
It was totally unexpected,

like having a door
slammed in your face

just as you were getting ready
to walk through it.

- It was...
- Fucking bullshit!

narrator:
...fucking bullshit.

She isn't in love with him.

Never even kidded herself
that she was.

- But still it...
- Fucking sucks.

narrator:
...is a dismaying shock
just the same.

She supposes
she'll have some wine

when she gets home
and cry.

Maybe queue up one
of her big band playlists

and dance drunk
around the room.

She loved to dance
in high school.

Maybe she can recapture
a little of that happiness.

- Fucking really?!
- passerby: Excuse me.

Sorry, sorry, sorry.
Not you, not you.

Fuck!

barista:
Got an oat milk latte for Chuck.

narrator:
Charles Krantz,

Chuck to his friends,

is dressed in the armor
of accountancy.

Gray suit, blue shirt,
blue tie.

His Samuel Windsor shoes
are inexpensive but sturdy.

He's here for
a week-long conference

titled "Banking
in the 21st Century."

He's been sent by his bank,
Midwest Trust,

all expenses paid.

Chuck has enjoyed
the speakers and the panels.

He was on one panel

and is scheduled
to be on another

before the conference ends
at noon tomorrow,

but has no wish to spend
his off-duty hours

in the company
of 70 other accountants.

He speaks their language,

but likes to think
he speaks others as well.

At least he did,

although some
of the vocabulary is now lost.

Now, his sensible
Samuel Windsor Oxfords

are taking him
for an afternoon walk.

His life is narrower

than the one
he once hoped for,

but he's made peace
with that.

He understands
that narrowing

is the natural order
of things.

He has a wife, Ginny,

to whom he is
scrupulously faithful,

and an intelligent,
good-humored son

in middle school.

He also has only
nine months to live,

though he doesn't
know that yet.

Taylor has been on the job
for 10 minutes now

and has nothing
to show for it.

She sees
a Mr. Businessman type

coming toward her

and something about him,
God knows what,

makes Taylor want
to announce his approach.

She slips first
into a reggae beat,

then something slinkier.

And for the first time today,
Taylor feels a spark

and begins to whack
the cowbell on the downbeat.

It's pretty cool.

The groove has arrived,

and the groove is like
a road you want to follow.

She could speed the beat up,
get some tom in there,

but she's watching
Mr. Businessman

and that seems wrong
for this dude.

She believes Mr. Businessman
will just go on past

on his way
to the business hotel,

and when he's gone,

Taylor will switch
to something else.

But instead
of floating on by...

onlooker 1:
Woo!

onlooker 2:
Yeah!

onlooker: Woo!

Come on.

Come on, little sister.

Let's dance.

Dance.

Yeah!

I'll lead you.
I got you.

Uh.

It's okay. It's my glasses.
It's my glasses.

What are we doing?

I don't know.

Taylor Franck:
No more today, folks.

No more today.

No more today.
We gotta quit
while we're ahead.

Chuck Krantz:
Do you need a-any
help at all or...

Here, can you, uh,
take this?

- Sure.
- Just, just spin
the thingy here.

But watch out
for your fingers.

It'll, it'll,
it'll get 'em good,
you know what I mean?

Yeah, yeah.

Janice Halliday:
What just happened?

That was incredible.

You dance for a living?

No.
Oh, no. I...

- No, I do not, sir.
- What do you do for a living?

Oh, no, I think I-- Did I--
I didn't break it, did I?

I think he broke,
I think he broke it.

Let's hit the pond.

We'll never find parking
by the Common.

We will today.

Today...

is magic.

Where did you learn
to dance like that?

Oh, no, no, no,
that's yours.

Nope, we split it even.

By myself, I wouldn't
have made half as much

if I drummed
till midnight.

You okay?

Yeah.

Yeah.
Just one of my headaches.

Oh, no, no, no. Come on.
I don't need it. You keep it.

Come on, man,
you earned it.

Buy yourself dinner.

Give it away.
But I'm handing it to you.

You could do this
for a living, you know?

I don't know
about that.

I really think we could busk
our way to fame and fortune.

What made you stop
in front of me?

Why did you start moving?

narrator:
He could say it was
because he was thinking

about his old
half-assed band,
The Retros,

and how he liked to dance
across the stage

during instrumental breaks.

But that's not it.

I don't know.

Taylor, we gotta roll,

or you're gonna end up
spending your take

on my parking ticket.

So, you guys don't want
a career change?

Career change?
How... I mean...

We'll make a name
for ourselves.

You got to get in here
before you go.

- Group hug.
- Oh, oh, okay.

- Group hug.
- Okay.

Go.

Come on.

Buskers forever.

Yeah. Buskers forever.

We gotta roll before
the meter maid shows up.

I'm so sorry.

That sucks.

It does suck.

I thought he was
a nice guy.

He was a pretty good lover,
and we had fun and all that.

If I can find
a video of us dancing,

which I'm gonna look
because I bet we go viral,

I'm gonna send it
to him with a text,

a text that says,
"This is what you're missing."

You're gonna be fine.

I don't know a lot,
but I know that much.

You got a bright sunbeam
in front of you,

and you're gonna step
right into it, I can tell.

But yeah.

It sucks.
Not much else to say.

Everything goes
down the drain,

and all we can say
is, "That sucks."

Mm. Yeah.

Maybe we're going down
the drain too.

Maybe.

I'm this way.

Uh, I'm that way.

Thank you for the dance.

narrator:
As he passes the place

where Taylor set up
her drums,

those two questions recur.

Why did he stop to listen?

And why did he start
to dance?

He doesn't know.

And would answers make
a good thing better?

Later, he'll lose
the ability to walk,

never mind dancing
with little sister

on the promenade.

Later, he'll lose
the ability to chew food.

Later, he'll forget
his wife's name.

Later, he'll lose his grip
on the difference

between waking and sleeping

and enter a land
of pain so great

he will wonder
why God made the world.

What he will remember,
occasionally,

is how he stopped
and dropped his briefcase

and began to move his hips
to the beat of the drums.

And he will think

that is why God
made the world.

Just that.

narrator: Chuck was
looking forward

to having a baby sister.

Of course, he was
also looking forward

to having parents,

but none of that worked out
thanks to a patch

of well-hidden ice
on an I-95 overpass.

Chuck wasn't in the car
when it happened

because his parents
were having a dinner date

and he was being babysat
by his grandparents,

who, at the time,
he was still calling
Zaydee and Bubbie.

He was seven years old.

Excellent job.

narrator:
For a year and a half,
it was a house

of unadulterated sadness.

Albie and Sarah Krantz
had not only lost

their son
and daughter-in-law...

Why're you not eating?

narrator:
...they had lost
the granddaughter

who would've been born
just three months later.

young Chuck:
What's going on?

narrator: The name had
already been picked out...

- Her name is Alyssa.
- narrator: ...Alyssa.

When Chuck said that
sounded to him like rain,

his mother had laughed
and cried at the same time.

He never forgot that.

Albie processed his grief

by turning to his
two absolutes,

numbers and alcohol.

Sarah, though,
could find no joy

in her usual pleasures.

She loved
the flavors of life,

music, art, and food,

but now,
found the world quiet

and gray and flavorless.

Some of the good feelings
came back

into the house with time.

There were a lot
of takeout meals

after the accident,

but around the time
Chuck turned 10,

his grandma started
cooking again.

She liked rock-and-roll
while she was cooking.

Music Chuck would've thought
much too young for her,

but which she clearly enjoyed.

♪ Take your baby
by the hand ♪

♪ And make her do
a high handstand ♪

♪ And take your baby
by the heel ♪

♪ And do the next thing
that you feel ♪

Come on, little brother,
let's dance.

♪ We were so in phase

♪ In our dance hall days

♪ We were cool on craze

♪ When I, you

♪ And everyone we knew
could believe ♪

♪ Do and share
in what was true ♪

♪ Oh, I said

♪ Dance hall days, love

♪ Take your baby
by the hair ♪

♪ And pull her close
and there, there, there ♪

♪ And take your baby
by the ears ♪

♪ And play upon
her darkest fears ♪

♪ We were so in...

Sarah Krantz:
You could learn
those moves, kiddo.

You're a natural.

Wh-Where did you learn?

High school.

What were you
like in high school?

I was a kusit.

But don't you tell
your Zaydee I said that.

He's old school,
that one.

narrator:
Chuck never told.

His grandparents'
house became

every inch his home

with one exception.

The cupola on the roof.

Chuck was forbidden
to go into the cupola.

That was
his grandfather's rule,

and it was absolute, emphatic.

Albie wasn't a stern man
in other matters.

He was downright gentle
in most respects.

But on this point,
he was rigid.

Chuck asked about it,
of course,

and more than once.

What was up there?

What could you see
from the high window?

And the big question,
why was the room locked?

- Grandma said...
- Because the floor isn't safe

and you might go
right through it.

- narrator: Grandpa said...
- There's nothing up there

because of
that rotten floor.

And the only thing you can
see through the windows

is the shopping center.

narrator: He said that
until, one night,

just before Chuck's
11th birthday,

when he told
at least part of the truth.

Carl Sagan [on TV]:
The cosmic calendar

compresses the local history
of the universe

into a single year.

If the universe began
on January 1st,

it was not until May
that the Milky Way formed.

narrator: Drinking is
not good for secrets.

And after the death
of his son,

daughter-in-law,
and granddaughter-to-be,

Alyssa, who sounds
like rain,

Albie Krantz drank
a great deal.

Everything humans
have ever done

occurred in that
bright speck

at the lower right
of the cosmic calendar.

I'll bet you could see

way past
the Westford Mall

from the cupola.

You gotta be able to see
the whole town from up there,

I bet.

Albie Krantz:
If you went up there,

you might see a lot more
than you wanted.

That's why it's locked,
Chucko.

Every month is
one and a quarter
billion years long.

Each day represents
40 million years.

narrator:
He wanted to ask
what Grandpa meant.

But the adult part of him,
not there in person,

no, not at 10, but something
that had begun to speak

on rare occasions,
told him

- to be quiet.
- At this scale...

narrator:
Be quiet and wait.

But all of human history
would occupy an area

the size of my hand.

We're just beginning to trace
the long and tortuous path

which began
with the primeval...

You know what style
of house this is?

Victorian.

That's right.

And not pretend
Victorian either.

It was built in 1885.

It's been remodeled
half a dozen times since.

But that cupola was there
from the start.

Been here since '71.

And in all those years,
I haven't been up

to that damn cupola
half a dozen times.

'Cause the floor is rotted?

'Cause it's full of ghosts.

...around 10:30 p.m.
on December 31st.

- Y-You remember Scrooge?
- Yeah.

That Scrooge movie
we watched?

I remember.

Do you think of that
as a ghost story?

I-I-I guess so.

Heard someone say
it was a ghost story.

Christmas Yet to Come.

11:59:20,

evening,
last day of the...

Jefferies boy
was a month later.

Henry Peterson,

that took longer.

Four...
maybe five years on.

And by then...

I almost forgot
what I saw up there.

Almost.

Said I'd never go back
up there after that.

And I wish I hadn't
because of Sarah.

Because of
your Bubbie, Chucky.

Your sweet Bubbie.

And the bread.

Every person
we've ever heard of,

somewhere in there...

It's the waiting, Chucko.

That's the hard part.

Everything in
the history books

happened here

in the last 10 seconds
of the cosmic calendar.

Ooh!

It's getting cold out there.

Vera says hi.
She says thanks
for the soup.

She laid the gossip on me,
laid it good.

Of course...

that's why we have
a Vera, isn't it?

So, what's the latest?

Well, I don't know
if you've heard,

but Trish is saying Karen
and Matty are in therapy.

- Again.
- Who's Henry Peterson, Zaydee?

...the universe
that made us

or we can squander
our 15 billion-year heritage.

And get
some pancake mix.

Yellow box,
not the orange box.

- You got all that?
- I got it.

- Do you need me
to write it down?
- I got it.

Don't you think
about driving.

The walk will
sober you up.

Yeah, yeah, yeah.

He'll be back
with some groceries.

Then, how about tonight,

we do some s'mores
in the fireplace?

- Yeah.
- Yeah.

Was he blabbing to you
about his ghosts?

The ones that live
in the cupola?

Yeah.

Well, are there?

What do you think?

I wouldn't pay too much
attention to Zaydee.

He's a good man.
But, sometimes,

well, sometimes,
he drinks too much.

Then he rides
his hobby horses.

I'm sure you know
what I'm talking about.

Who was the Jefferies boy?

Well...

that was
a very sad thing, kiddo.

He lived on
the next block over,

and he got hit by a car

when he chased a ball
into the street.

It happened
a long time ago.

And if your grandpa says
he saw it before it happened,

he's mistaken.

He just drinks too much.

You know, I could take those
to Mrs. Stanley if you want.

Oh, that's very thoughtful
of you.

I bet Vera'd love that.

Mm.

Just wonderful.

Your, your grandmother
is an artist.

Thank you for
bringing them over.

Was that your idea?

- Be honest.
- It was.

Well, can I make you
a cup of tea?

Um, I don't drink tea,
but, um,

I wouldn't mind
a glass of milk.

Well, your grandmother's
a saint.

And what about
your granddad?

Did he have that thing
on his back looked at?

Yeah, the, the doctor
took it off and had it tested.

Tell me everything.

It wasn't one
of the bad ones.

Thank God for that.

Yeah.

He, um, he was talking
to Grandma

about someone
named Henry Peterson.

So awful.

You know,
Henry was a bookkeeper,

just like your granddad.

He did a lot of
the other businesses in town.

The ones that
your Zaydee didn't do--

How did it happen?

I don't think you want
to hear about that stuff.

Um, w-w-well,
Granddad said it was,
uh, peaceful.

Peaceful?

He killed himself.
Hung himself.

His wife, you see,
she ran off

with this younger man,
barely old enough to vote.

And she was in her 40s.
What do you think of that?

- Wow.
- Damn right, wow.

And then, I heard that--

What's happening
at school?

Who's smooching who?

teacher: "Talk honestly,
for no one else hears you

and I stay
only a minute longer."

"Do I contradict myself?

"Very well then,

"I contradict myself,

"I am large.

I contain multitudes."

narrator: On the last day
of sixth grade,

Miss Richards,

a sweet, hippie-dippyish
young woman

who had no command
of discipline

and would probably
not last long

in the public
education system,

tried to recite
for Chuck's class

some verse
of Walt Whitman's
"Song of Myself."

"Failing to fetch me at first
keep encouraged.

Missing me one place,
search another."

That went well,
don't you think?

Yeah, I'm, I'm
sorry about that.

What does he mean
when he says, "I am large,

I contain multitudes"?

What do you think
he means?

All the people
he knows.

Yes.

But maybe he means
even more.

Here. Come here.

What's in there?
Between my hands?

My brain.

No, um, that's not
exactly what I mean.

What's in there?

Right between
my hands right now.

I don't know.

All the people you know?

I guess.

Just the people you know?

Everything you see.

Everything you know.

The world, Chuck.

Planes in the sky.
Manhole covers in the street.

Every year that you live,
that world inside your head

will get bigger and brighter
and more detailed and complex.

You will build cities
and countries and continents,

and you will fill them
with people and faces,

real and imagined.

Do you understand?

Don't stop there.

You fill the whole thing

with everyone you ever meet,

everyone you ever know,

everyone you ever
just imagine.

It'll be a universe.

A whole universe
right between my hands.

You contain multitudes.

So...

what happens
to that universe if someone...

I don't know,

hits a patch of ice
and goes off an overpass or...

Don't worry too much
about those things.

Just remember that
you contain multitudes,
Chuck.

Isn't that wonderful?

Now, go on.
You were such a good boy.

I've really enjoyed
having you in class.

narrator: Chuck did
enjoy his summer

until August,

when Bubbie died.

It happened
at the grocery store

down the street, in public,

which was
a little undignified,

but at least it was
the kind of death

where people
can safely say...

Thank God
she didn't suffer.

narrator:
The other standby...

She had a long, full life.

narrator: ...was more
of a gray area.

Sarah Krantz had yet
to reach her mid-60s.

Once more, the house
on Pilchard Street

was one
of unadulterated sadness.

Albie wore his mourning band,
and lost weight,

and stopped
telling his jokes

and began to look older
than his 70 years.

- That's it?
- Yeah.

Buck 75.

Um, that lady who was
in here a few weeks ago,

the one who died.

Where was she
when it happened?

That's a little creepy, kid.

She was my grandma.

clerk: She was getting
a loaf of bread.

Pulled down
almost everything

on the shelf
when she collapsed.

I'm sorry if that's
too much information.

Nah.

I already knew that.

- No!
- What?!

- Get away from there!
You get away from there.
- What? Hey, hey!

Give me that.

Give it to me.
Give it to me.

Give me it.

Oh.

Oh, I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

Are you okay?

What did you see?

What did you see?

I'm sorry.
It's just, you can't.

You can't do that, Chucky.

You just can't.

Oh, I'm so sorry.

Oh, I'm sorry.
I'm so, so sorry.

I'm sorry.

Come on, little brother.

Let's dance.

teacher: Hello, twirlers,
and hello, spinners.

What do you know?
Three boys this year.

It's a new record.

You gentlemen
might find yourselves

being teased
for your new hobby.

I assure you, you are
the smartest young men

in the whole school.

You'll soon see
what I mean.

For those who don't know me,
I am Miss Rohrbacher.

And when I'm not teaching
the girls phys-ed,

I am what a few students
have called,

"The Dance Monster."

Nothing? Alright.

You have chosen
what might be

the best club
this school has ever had.

'Cause if we didn't
have girls volleyball,

we wouldn't have nothing.

No, no, no.

Back, Mr. Mulford,
you are mine now.

Waltz.

narrator:
Chuck knew it.

Cha-cha.

narrator:
Chuck knew it.

Swing.

Triple step. Rock step.

- Triple step. Rock step.
- narrator: Chuck knew it.

Triple step. Rock step.

Samba.

Don't know that one.

narrator:
He was, by far,

the best dancer
in the little club.

So, Miss Rohrbacher
mostly put him

with the girls
who were clumsy.

He understood she did it
to make them better,

and he was
a good sport about it.

Near the end
of their two hours, however,

The Dance Monster
would show mercy

and pair him
with Cat McCoy,

who was an eighth grader

and the best dancer
of the girls.

Chuck didn't
expect romance.

Cat was not only gorgeous,

she was a full foot taller
than he was.

But he loved
to dance with her,

and the feeling was mutual.

...three.
Out, two, three. Switch.

And stop.

In, two, three.
Out, two, three.

Turn. Now box.

One, two, three.
One, two, three.

I don't know what that is.

Oh, my God.

Okay, 10 minutes freestyle.

♪ Ooh, my little pretty one,
my pretty one ♪

♪ When you gonna give me
some time, Sharona? ♪

Hey. Watch this.

♪ Ooh, you make my motor run,
my motor run ♪

Show me how you did that.

Ready?

Slide, slide, slide.

Here, ready?

Try it with me.

♪ M-m-m-my Sharona

- Um...
- Uh, kick off your shoes

- and do it in your socks.
- Aye-aye.

Now, slide.

Slide.

Yeah. There you go.

Hey! Show me.

Pop. Slide.
Slide. Slide.

Yeah, again.

Pop. Slide. Pop.

♪ Woo!

♪ M-m-m-my Sharona

narrator: Twirlers
and Spinners let out

half an hour late that day.

♪ My Sharona

Cat McCoy:
That's so rad.

You figured that out
by yourself?

Well, I just kept
rewinding and rewinding

til I figured it out.

We should do that
at the Fling.

Uh, not as a date
or anything.

I'm going out
with Dougie Wentworth.

You know that, right?

Yeah.

But that doesn't mean
we couldn't show them

some cool moves.

I really want to.
Do you?

I-I don't know.

I'm a lot shorter.

I think people will laugh.

- That totally works.
- It totally does.

- Are you sure?
- Oh, yeah, I'm sure.

Well, they feel great!

Uh, just a little big.

That should be enough.

- Little more.
- Maybe one more.

How's that?

Floor feels like ice.

You put scratches
on that floor,

- the janitor is gonna beat y--
- Timmy.

There won't be
no scratches.

He's too light on his feet
to leave any.

Almost perfect.

Take another run
at these two.

You don't need to sigh.

You're good at this,
you know?

You're really good at it.

Yeah, but it's boring.

Boring?
What, you mean math?

Yeah.

I wonder
if maybe next semester

you might want to try
Math League after school.

I did it all high school,
in fact,

and it was so great.

I'm doing Twirlers
and Spinners.

Yeah.

Hey, hey, put that down
for a second, will you?

Just a little about math.

Because people
start out thinking

it might be boring,

and that's
their first mistake.

It's used in every career,
in every job,

in every facet of life
on this planet.

That's a fact.
Hell, the planet.

How do you think we figure out
how long a day is?

Everybody knows
how long a day is.

- How long?
- Twenty-four hours.

People say it's 24 hours,
but they're wrong.

There are 23 hours
and 56 minutes

in a stellar day.

Plus a few odd seconds.
Math proves it.

How do we know
how old the Earth is?

How old the universe is,
how long people have been here?

Or how to build a bridge
or a skyscraper

or how far apart
the stars are?

How did we land
on the moon?

The stars themselves.

Why they burn,
why atoms split and fuse,

and all the rest
is just math.

Hey, stars are just math.

When you look
at the night sky,

you're seeing
the greatest equation

in the universe.

Heck, your dancing,
that's math too.

I mean, what's
the language of dance?

How do you learn your steps?
It's even in the name.

I mean, they call it
"the count."

One and two
and three and four.

What's a waltz?
One, two, three,
one, two, three.

Just numbers, just math.

And more than that,

there's an art to it.

What I do,
all these files here,

all these folders,

these are all people's lives.

Every choice they made.

Last year, last 10 years.

Everything that's
important to them.

Every weakness they have,
every vice, every dream,

it's all here in numbers.

Some schmuck comes in,
takes those numbers,

does the math without artistry,
someone loses their house.

I take those numbers,
do a little art,

I save someone's life.

That's what I do.

That's what accounting is.

Well, maybe
they should teach that,

the cool stuff,

and not just
all the boring stuff.

Hmm.

Math is something else too.

Some math,
math that's called statistics

or probability,

it can tell you stuff
about your future.

It could tell you,
for example,

you're more likely
to be drafted

by a major league sports team

than to make a real living
as a dancer.

The world loves dancers,
it truly does.

But it needs accountants,
so there's much more demand,

so there's much
more opportunity.

I know that might hurt,
but it's the truth.

Math is truth.
It won't lie to you.

It doesn't factor in
your preferences.

It's pure that way.

Math can do a lot of things.

Math can be art.

But it can't lie.

So...

take another run
at those two

because, Chucko,

you are good.

You... have art in you.

♪ Hugging me like skin

♪ And I'll sweat it clean

♪ Until I can taste

♪ The oxygen

♪ Oh

Hey! You look great!

Thanks. Uh, you too.

Wanna show 'em
how it's done?

Uh, I don't know.
I kinda, um...

I kinda hurt my leg.

You hurt your leg?

Maybe, maybe let's, let's
wait for a better song.

♪ Today I changed
the picture ♪

♪ In our old oak frame ♪

♪ To a painting I made of
a photo inside... ♪

Hey, kiddo.

Hey.

Thought you were gonna
tear it up tonight.

I don't, I don't know.

My shoes feel all funny,

and... I hurt my leg.

Oh, you hurt your leg?

Yeah.

I'm sorry
to hear that.

So, you came stag, huh?

- Hmm?
- No date.

Nah, I...

That'll change.
Believe me, it'll change.

Just give it some time.

None of this,
none of--

None of that out there
really means anything.

It's all just,
just a scrimmage.

Just a practice.

Hey, this is perfect.
Come on.

Nah, I'm still, uh...

My leg's still wonky.

Chuck, come on.

We're gonna blow
the roof off.

I'm sorry.

It really hurts.

You know, I've been dancing
since I was eight,

and I teach PE,

and I've seen
when my kids get hurt.

I see how their walk changes.

I see how
their posture changes.

And don't mind me saying,
but you look...

Well, you look fine
to me, Chuck.

I'm not saying that you have
to dance with the girl.

It's up to you.
I'm just saying

dance or no dance,
you don't have to lie.

Tell her the truth.

She can take it.

♪ Well,
my temperature's rising ♪

♪ And my feet on
the floor ♪

♪ Crazy people knocking 'cause
they're wanting some more ♪

♪ Let me in, baby,
I don't know what you got ♪

- You ready?
- Yeah. Let's do it.

♪ And I'm so glad
we made it ♪

♪ So glad we made it

♪ You gotta

♪ Gimme some a-lovin' ♪

♪ Gimme, gimme some lovin'

♪ Gimme some a-lovin'

♪ Gimme, gimme some lovin'

♪ Gimme some a-lovin'
every day ♪

♪ Well, I feel so good

♪ Everything
is getting higher ♪

♪ You better take it easy

♪ 'Cause the place
is on fire ♪

♪ Been a hard day
and I have so much to do ♪

♪ We made it, baby,
and it happened to you ♪

♪ And I'm so glad
we made it ♪

♪ So glad we made it

♪ You gotta

♪ Gimme some a-lovin'

♪ Gimme, gimme some lovin'

♪ Gimme some a-lovin'

♪ Gimme, gimme some lovin'

♪ Gimme some a-lovin'

♪ Every day

♪ Well, I feel so good

♪ Everything
is getting higher ♪

♪ You better take it easy
'cause the place is on fire ♪

♪ Been a hard day
and nothing went too good ♪

♪ Now I'm gonna relax
like-a everybody should ♪

♪ And I'm so glad
we made it ♪

♪ Hey-hey

♪ So glad we made it

♪ You got to

♪ Gimme some a-loving

♪ Gimme, gimme some loving

♪ Gimme some loving

♪ Gimme, gimme some loving

♪ Gimme, gimme some loving

♪ Gimme, gimme some loving

♪ Gimme, gimme some loving

all :
One more time! One more time!

One more time!

narrator:
They may have been young,

but they were smart enough
to know when to quit.

Thank you, guys.

narrator:
Six months before he died

of a brain tumor
at the unfair age of 39,

and while his mind
was still working, mostly,

Chuck told his wife
the truth about the scar

on the back of his hand.

When they'd first
started dating,

he told her he'd gotten it
from a boy

named Doug Wentworth,

who was pissed about him
dancing with his girlfriend

at a middle school formal

and pushed him
into a chain link fence

outside the gym.

I lied about that, though.

Oh, my.

A man of secrets,

even still.

Ginny Krantz:
What happened, love?

When our fabulous
dance was over, I...

I was sweaty
and I was so hot.

I-I felt like my cheeks
were gonna catch fire.

You were great.

- Thank you.
- What a star.

All I wanted in that moment

was just darkness,

cool air,

and to be by myself.

There were millions
of stars that night.

Millions of them.

And millions more
behind them.

And sure, m-may-- Yeah,
maybe they were just math.

But they also danced.

I know 'cause
I saw one of them.

And I remember thinking,
the universe is large

and, and it
contains multitudes,

but it-it also contains me.

And in this moment...

I am wonderful.

And I have a right
to be wonderful.

Oh!

Why lie about that, silly?

You're a strange wonder,
my dear.

narrator:
He doesn't offer more

because the scar was important
for another reason.

It was part of a story
he couldn't tell,

even though there was now
an apartment building

on the site
of the Victorian house

where he had done
most of his growing up.

The haunted Victorian house.

Mm.

No reason.

Funny thinking, I guess.

narrator:
The scar meant more,

so he had made it more.

He just couldn't make it
as much more as it really was.

That made little sense.

But as the glioblastoma
continued its blitzkrieg,

it was the best
his disintegrating mind

could manage.

narrator:
Chuck's grandpa,

his Zaydee,

died of a heart attack

five years after
the Fall Fling dance.

Chuck was a junior
in high school

singing in a band
and dancing like Jagger

during the
instrumental breaks.

funeral director: He made all
the arrangements himself.

Came in a few weeks ago

just to make sure
everything was to the letter,

which I thought
was strange.

Not many people bother
to do that.

Most people,

they come here once
to set it all up.

They aren't anxious
to come back again.

Next time I see 'em,
they're in their Sunday best,

if you get me.

He was a great man
and a good friend.

He's been doing
our books for 23 years

and saved our skin
more than once

when the tax man was coming.

So, do I owe you
any money?

Not a penny.

He took care of that too.
Settled his tab

that same visit.

You know...

the strangest thing.

And this will sound strange,
so bear with me.

See, I, uh,

dreamed of being
a television weatherman

in my salad days

with maybe one
of the networks.

Wasn't in the cards
for me.

But I did spend
a summer at WKNB.

Well, there was a guy

at KNB who they said

could feel a storm coming

two solid weeks away

without the radar.

Had a sixth sense.

Damnedest thing I ever saw.

Uh, used to make this face,

this face when people talked
about their travel plans,

if he knew something
they didn't.

Not... not a smile,
per se.

No joy in it.

Just a... knowing.

"Weatherman Stare,"
I called it.

And I didn't have it,
not me.

So, I'm here, not there.

Your granddad had
that same face

when he was in here.

Like... he knew
it was gonna rain.

And I was just a guy
selling him an umbrella.

Weatherman Stare.

I'm sure of it.

The strangest thing.

narrator:
Albie left him everything.

More than enough to pay
for his college education.

And later on,
the sale of the Victorian

paid for the house
he and Ginny moved into

after their honeymoon
in the Catskills.

He flatly refused
to move to Omaha

to live with
his mother's parents.

- Look, I love you guys...
- narrator: He said.

...but this is where I grew up
and want to stay till college.

I'm 17. I'm not a baby.

narrator: So, they,
both long retired,

came to him

and stayed
in the Victorian

for the 20-odd months
before Chuck went off

to the University of Illinois.

They weren't able to be there
for the funeral, however.

It happened fast,
as Albie had wanted,

and his mom's folks
had loose ends

to tie up in Omaha.

Chuck didn't really miss them,
if he was honest.

His Zaydee hated a fuss

almost as much
as he hated a crowd.

A day before they were
scheduled to arrive,

Chuck finally opened
the envelope

that had been
sitting on the table

in the front hall.

It was from Sam Yarborough,

owner and chief undertaker
at Yarborough Funeral Home,

and inside were Albie Krantz's
personal effects.

narrator: In this room,
Chuck's grandpa had seen

the Jefferies boy,

body broken by the car.

He'd seen Henry Peterson
hanging from the ceiling.

He'd seen his own wife
lying dead.

And likely,
Chuck supposed,

perhaps the night
Chuck had stolen his keys,

Albie had even seen himself
crumpled to the floor,

still clutching
his upper arm.

"It's the waiting," he'd said.

"That's the hard part."

Now Chuck's own
waiting would begin.

How long would
that wait be?

Exactly how old was the man
in the hospital bed?

There was a final bip...

...from the unseen monitor

and then that was gone too.

The man did not fade,

as ghostly apparitions did
in the movies.

He was just gone.

Insisting he had never
been there in the first place.

- He wasn't...
- narrator: Chuck thinks.

...and I will insist
he wasn't.

And I will live my life
until my life runs out.

I am wonderful.

I deserve to be wonderful.

And I contain multitudes.

♪ Of all the money
I ever had ♪

♪ I spent it
in good company ♪

♪ And all the harm
I've ever done ♪

♪ It was to none but me

♪ And all I've done

♪ For want of wit

♪ To memory now
I can't recall ♪

♪ So fill to me
the parting glass ♪

♪ Good night and joy be
to you all ♪

♪ Fill to me
the parting glass ♪

♪ And drink a health
whate'er befalls ♪

♪ Then gently rise
and softly call ♪

♪ Good night and joy be
to you all ♪

♪ Of all the friends
I ever had ♪

♪ They're sorry
for my going away ♪

♪ And all the sweethearts
I ever had ♪

♪ They would wish me
one more day to stay ♪

♪ Since it fell

♪ Into my lot

♪ That I should rise
and you should not ♪

♪ I'll gently rise
and softly call ♪

♪ Good night and joy be
to you all ♪

♪ Fill to me
the parting glass ♪

♪ Drink a health
whate'er befalls ♪

♪ Then gently rise
and softly call ♪

♪ Good night and joy be
to you all ♪

♪ Good night and joy be
to you all ♪