All language subtitles for The Outer Limits_S06E10_Down to Earth.srt - 2

[crashing]

[camera shutter clicks]

[announcer]
And so, we welcome you,

no matter what part
of the galaxy you're from,

to the 10th annual
North American UFO Convention.

[indistinct chatter]

I believe.

[electricity crackling]

Oh, please!

"The aliens did this to me.
The aliens did that to me."

You keep telling
the same stupid story

year after year.

When the hell
are you going to get over it?

Probably around the same time
you stop dressing up

like one of the jolly green
giant sex toys.

At least I had
a close encounter.

I am starting to think
you liked having that
probe up--

I told you,
they didn't probe me.

I stopped them.

Oh, that's what
you'd like us to believe.

[woman] No, no, no!

The Meconia were very
clear on that point.

Did you not read
my last book?

No. Did you read mine?

-I would if I could have
found it
-[mock laughter]

Carl Sagan was Meconian.

Sagan was a pod person.

I've got the evidence
right here.

The only thing
that you've got in there
is your lunch.

Of course, it's not
the alien finger.

I'm not exactly
going to carry it around
everywhere I go, you know.

But you promised me, Gunther,
when we, you know...

That I was going to
experience the finger.

-You will. You will.
-I want it now!

I want the finger.
I don't want a rotten carrot.

It's not a carrot!

-You lied to me, Gunther.
You lied...
-No...

[arguing indistinctly]

For Pete's sake,
Boo, what kept you?

-This printer screwed up
our press release.
-[groans]

No, no, no, no.
I took care of everything.

It's fine.

As usual, it sounds like
World War III in here.

I know, I know.

Everybody, can I have
your attention, please?

[arguing continues]

Everybody, listen up.

[loudly] Damn it,
I said listen!

Well, um...
I hope everyone
enjoyed their fondue.

Like I always say,
it's food you can trust.

Well, before we get on
with tonight's business,

I have a personal statement
I'd like to make.

I couldn't help noticing
that certain of you

have chosen to disregard
my request that tonight's
planning committee soiree

remain apolitical.

I know I might
sound like a broken record,

but really,
this constant bickering,
it's... it's insufferable.

There is no way
the rest of the world
will ever take us seriously

and respect us
if we do not respect ourselves.

Now, when the convention
starts tomorrow
and the press arrives,

I want us
to be civil to each other.

The moment one of us
breaks rank and starts
bashing the others,

the press will jump right in,

and they'll make us all
look like a bunch of silly,
disorganized lunatics.

Which is why
Ike asked me...

Hi, everybody.

...to come up with a theme
that sort of captures
the zeitgeist of our message.

Don't you roll your eyes at me,
Gunther Van Owen.

You're one of the first people
the TV crews will head for.

Damn right.

Me and the rest
of the Fifth Column.

[coughs] Bunch of thugs.

[sighs]
We've got something to show...

Something big.

Oh, you mean
that piece of rotten carrot
you've been carrying around?

-It is not a carrot.
-[blows raspberry]

Whatever it is,
it's disgusting,

and it has nothing to do
with reality.

Our extraterrestrial friends

are beautiful,
diaphanous creatures,

not toads like you.

Diaphanous?

The creature
that impregnated me
was definitely reptilian.

You say that
about all the creatures
that impregnate you.

Yeah? Why don't you
come over here
and say that, fat boy?

-Come on.
-Come on.

[arguing indistinctly]

[Boo] Stop!

Back off, everybody.

You people
are incorrigible.

One of the reasons
I joined this group
in the first place

was because
of the fellowship it provided.

We know
that we are not alone here
on starship Earth.

And whether you look at aliens

as a malignant fungus
or E.T. in a tutu,

we need to stand together
and say,
in one united voice,

two very simple words...

"I believe."

We hunger for a sign

that our faith
is the right faith.

And, for me,

these two words
are a statement
that we have seen things,

and that the truth
has been revealed to us.

"I believe"?

I believe that slogan sucks.

That's what I believe.

[Silverface] Yeah, me too.

It would have been
way better in silver.

[Ike] What is wrong
with all of you?

Don't you want
to be taken seriously

for once in your lives?

If you want to be
taken seriously,

you're gonna need
more than a T-shirt.

You're going to need
what I have in this box.

I'm sorry, sir, but this is
a convention-planning
committee meeting.

If you have something to sell,
there'll be a consignment
table set up on Sunday.

Do I look like
I'm selling something?

I've been driving in circles
in the damn desert
for three days

trying to figure out
what to do with this.

What is it?

The stuff
your dreams are made of.

[electronic humming]

[Control Voice]
There is nothing wrong
with your television.

Do not attempt
to adjust the picture.

We are now controlling
the transmission.

We control the horizontal
and the vertical.

We can deluge you
with a thousand channels

or expand one single image
to crystal clarity

and beyond.

We can shape your vision

to anything our imagination
can conceive.

For the next hour,

we will control
all that you see and hear.

You are about to experience
the awe and mystery

which reaches from
the deepest inner mind

to The Outer Limits.

In an age of doubt,

there is nothing more powerful
than the need to seek answers.

But what happens
when the cloak is lifted

and those answers
suddenly revealed?

I hope I haven't
just made a mistake
showing this to you.

Is it real?

Exactly what kind of
starcruiser did it come from?

Show it to us again.

As head of convention security,

I say we 86
this guy right now.

Dale, please.
We're not going to 86 anyone.

We don't know anything
about this guy

Or that... that... that thing.

They could both be radioactive.

For all we know,
that thing could make us glow
like Bonzerian Zot-worms.

[breathes heavily]

I assure you,
the fragment is harmless.

Ah. Tell that
to the cancerous lump

growing on my spine, rummy.

I'm going to ask you
and the box to leave nicely.

I ask again,
we're going to tussle.

Please, just listen to me.

For 22 years,
I was a civilian accountant

at Nellis Air Force Base.

-That's Area 51.
-Duh!

Check the noncom
work records
if you don't believe me.

You'll find
my name there.

[Uma] Max Buford?

Buford.

Two weeks ago, I was
assigned to audit

the construction
of an underground
storage facility.

I found a discrepancy.

When I went
to inquire about it,

I saw this strange craft

being disassembled
by military personnel.

Pieces of the ship
were being placed into boxes

in preparation
for being hauled away
on trains.

I was told to forget
everything I had seen,

and although
I tried to ignore it
and simply do my job,

I found I could not.

Betraying the trust
that was placed in me,

I stole
one of the smaller boxes,

put it into
the trunk of my car,
and drove away.

That box is before you now.

Wow.

That is an amazing story,
Mr. Buford.

It's the truth.

Our government is conspiring
with the creatures that built
the craft that this came from.

The world needs to know.

Does the government know
this thing is missing?

Probably. In which case--

[Dale] They'll kill you.

Dead.
Hell, I knew a guy
who knew a guy.

That guy crossed the feds
just like you did.

Ten years later,
he's eating at the
Jolly Troll Smorgasbord--

-In Billings?
-That's the one. Bang!

He goes face down
into his tater tots.

Turns out a motherhumping
heart attack
just rocked his world.

Coincidence? [chuckles]
I think not.

Dale, why would you
tell a story like that?

Mr. Buford, I think
it's truly courageous
of you to come here,

and I think
I can speak for all of us

when I say thank you
from the bottom of our hearts.

Well, I ain't thanking him.
His story's a load of crap.

That fragment didn't
come from Area 51.

There are
no train tracks
going into that base.

Apparently, the hair goo
has infected your brain.

He's referring to
the cold-fusion
underground rail system.

Shut-up. There is
no underground rail system.

You shut up!
The damned photos
are on the Internet.

We've all seen 'em.

What if aliens sent him?

The Meconia have always been
willing to share their
technology with us.

The Meconia have got
nothing to do with this.

This kind
of technology, it's...

It's vortid all the way.

What if the fragment
isn't stolen?

What if the government
sent him here as part of some
disinformation campaign?

Anyone think of that?

Well, if the fragment is real,
where's the disinformation?

Maybe they just want us
to think it's real.

Or the aliens wanted us
to see the fragment,

because they need
to tell us something.

Yeah! Like, maybe
it's a distress signal

from deep within their
base station
on the ocean floor.

You're all missing the point.

Think of all
the grainy photographs

and half-baked stories

we've hitched our wagons to
over the years,

trying to grab onto
something that proved

that our belief in aliens
was justified.

We have it now.

This fragment,
it's... it's our Holy Grail.

Is that what you believe?

You, with your hoity-toity
college education?

It's what I believe, too.

Ike Pilchard,

transit system coordinator.

And me, Tyler Buttram,

with my advanced degrees
in Portuguese literature,
animal husbandry...

Ditto, except for
the degrees part,

although I am certified
to work as an X-ray tech.

Mr. Buford, we've already
set up a press conference
for tomorrow,

and with your permission,

I'd like to reveal the fragment
to the world.

Are you high on the crack?

The feds will be on him
like maggots on roadkill.

Look,
you're a relative newcomer
to these conventions, Boo.

Trust me,
there's a lot of things
that you just don't know about.

Well, there's one thing
that I do know.

With Mr. Buford
and the fragment
out in the open,

the government would be stupid
to do anything.

Even you can see that, Dale.

Boo is absolutely right,
Mr. Buford.

Really, it's the only way
to save yourself.

I just want you to know
I appreciate what you're doing.

Well, Mr. Buford,
I assure you
the feeling is mutual.

I know that some of us
may seem a little, um, extreme,

but, for the most part,
we're good people.

Can I tell you something?

Tonight, you have renewed
my faith that aliens
exist here on Earth,

and for that,
I'm really grateful.

-[chuckles]
-This is your room.

Now, if there is anything
you need, just page me
and I'll be here in a flash.

-Okay.
-Rest assured,
you're safe with us.

I've got one man
eyeballing your car
from the roof,

another one will be outside
this door all night.

Really?

You think that's necessary?

A little information
can get a guy killed.

Enough said.

I like to think that
a little information
can be uplifting.

Now, remember what I said,
if you need anything...

Yeah.

Are you trying to be ignorant
when you say things like that?

What? What'd I say?

You said there'd be a guy
up in the roof and someone
outside his door.

Correct me if I'm wrong,
but you're the only security
we have, right?

Well, he doesn't have
to know that.

Do you think he's gonna
feel safer

knowing the entire FBI
is out to Ruby Ridge him

and I'm the only thing
standing in the way?

The FBI doesn't
know where he is.

Wake up
and smell the cheese, honey.

The walls have eyes.

Any one of those people
in that room tonight

could be the FBI
in deep-cover assignment.

Oh, sure, you're saying
Dale's all buggy
and paranoid...

But I've made inquiries
into certain people,

and it wouldn't surprise me
one little bit

that it comes back
that they're not
who they say they are.

And who exactly
are you referring to?

Well, when I get the facts,
you'll be the first to know,

but only because I like you.

[switch clicks]

[gasps]

[breathing heavily]

[moaning]

Now, some ignorant types
may think my kind of a job

is a nowhere's road
to dead Endsville,

but to me, parking-lot security
is the first line of defense.

Say, do either of you ladies
like cable?

Dale!
Dale, I've got to talk to you.

Excuse me, can't you see
I'm talking to some ladies?

These aren't ladies, Dale,
they're men.

[growls]

I was attacked
in my room.

[yells]

Dale. Dale, they're gone.

Don't be too sure.

Describe them.

Um... Flat nose,

bulbous eyes...

Vortids.

Stinking vortids.

Consider yourself lucky.

Vortids have been known
to mutilate a body

faster than you can say
Ceti Alpha V.

But if our government
taught them one thing,

it's how to get
in and out quickly.

In other words,
sometimes in their hurry,

they leave a little
something behind.

It may be nothing more
than a flake of skin
or a bead of gooey-green sweat.

Dale, there's nothing
under there.

But what about this?

Oh, what is it?

Well, I'm thinking maybe
you wounded one
during the struggle.

Could be a hunk of skin tissue,

some kind of blood,
maybe even...

Hair gel.

Admit it, Gunther.

It was you and your
digit-worshipping friends

that attacked me in my room.

Digit worshiping?
Ooh, that hurt.

These are serious charges,
Gunther.

If you and the Fifth Column
were involved...

Why the hell
would I even waste my time?

To make Boo
look foolish maybe?

She doesn't need
any of my help.

As far as I can tell,
she's foolish enough already.

Not to mention
gullible and simple-minded.

You might as well
fess up, Gunther.
We know you were there.

-You left your
calling card behind.
-[sniffs]

All right, all right. Fine!

Fine!

It was us.

We were just trying
to make a point.

I mean, if she's stupid enough
to believe that a bunch of
cheesy-looking aliens

could attack her,
who knows what else
she could buy into, huh?

Like, say,
a floating metal fragment.

Good example.
The girl's a flake,
just like the rest of you.

Hell, this was supposed to be
my year, damn it!

The Fifth Column's year.

Why couldn't you
believe in this?

Bingo.

Smoking gun and all.

Look what we found
in the dumpster behind
Mr. Monty's.

Got that hair squidge
all over it.

Polk's rounding up
the last of it
over at the restaurant.

I have never
been so disgusted
in all my...

Gunther, pack your bags.

As president
of the North American
UFO Convention,

I hereby suspend you
and the rest
of the Fifth Column

from any further participation
in NAUFOC events.

Incoming!

Screw you and your convention.

You can't deny us
our right to be heard.

Go ahead and try.

The finger
will not be silenced.

[door slams shut]

That Gunther...

I'd always thought
he'd go too far some day.

You sure you're okay, Boo?

I'm good.

As a matter of fact,
I'm better than good,

-because with Gunther
out of the way...
-[whispers]

...this press conference
tomorrow is really
going to soar

on the wings
of an eagle. [laughs]

When you say hang in there...

We will say to the world,
"There are things
in the universe

that we don't understand,

things that the government
is afraid to share with us."

-Boo...
-"But we have
discovered something

that will change all of that,

something that
we're willing to share
with you.

You can call it what you want,
but we call it the truth."

Boo!

We've got a problem.

What is it?

Duct tape, some wires,
conductive tubing...

Tell it again
from the beginning.

Like I said, I walked in and
the busboy was poking around
at the air vent with a broom,

and ping, [clicks tongue]
it opened,
and all this stuff fell out.

Of course.

What do you mean "of course"?
Of course what?

What are you people
talking about?

Mirrors and wires
and jerry-rigged
remote control.

Probably holograms, too,
and animatronic sock puppets.

That floating fragment
was nothing
but a piece of theater.

And we fell for it,
hook, line, and sinker.

People, for all you know,
it could be
Gunther's handiwork,

or maybe it's been
up there for years.

I bet my bippy, if you
stick a few magnets
on a thing like this

-and tape it to the ceiling,
you're gonna--
-Fine. Where are the magnets?

Mr. Buford pulled
a fast one on us.

It's alien autopsy
all over again.

We are so stupid.

But why?
Why would he do this?

Maybe we're just
jumping to conclusions.

[Dale] She's right.

For all we know,
the government
put Buford up to this.

Right. The government.

To make us look bad.

Come on, everybody.

Sometimes, a piece of tubing
is just a piece of tubing.

I looked into
Mr. Buford's eyes, and he was
telling us the truth.

Mr. Buford? It's only us.

We just want to talk.

Really, Uma,
this is so unnecessary.

Yeah, well, then why isn't he
answering the door, huh?

[lock clicks]

Got it.

Mr. Buford, we're sorry
to barge in like this--

I think Max is gone.

"Telling us the truth."
[scoffs]

-Yup. Just like we thought.
-[toilet flushing]

Mr. Buford's gone
and so is his box.

Not to mention
everything in the minibar.

Damned hotel better not
try charging us for it.

Hey, some towels
are missing,

and so's
the rubber bath mat.
What a weirdo.

Nobody up front saw him go,
but we scoured the parking lot
for his car,

and it definitely isn't there.

How could he just
leave us like that,
without saying anything?

Maybe there's a perfectly
logical explanation.

Yeah. Like maybe he knew
the feds were closing in.

I keep telling you,
the government
didn't know he was here.

What if the government
did know he was here,

because somebody
told them about it?

You mean, like Gunther.

Yeah, Gunther!

He had a motive.

Could be Gunther,
could be somebody else.

Yeah. Like...

-Like...
-Like nobody.

The man bolted

because this
whole thing is a lie.

Maybe we were wrong
about Mr. Buford.

[chuckles]

Maybe we're wrong
about a lot of things.

Boo?

Boo, where are you going?

[Dale]
Thought I'd find you here.
Have a drink.

Looks like you need one.

Sex on the Beach.

How'd you know
that was my drink?

You'd be amazed
what you can
find out about people

if you do a little surfing.

Do you mind if I, uh,
sit down?

You okay?

Oh, yeah, I'm great.

Considering this feels
like the worst day of my life.

I should have listened to you
when you said how
complicated things are.

You wanted that fragment
to be real
in the worst way, huh?

[sighs]
I'd rather not talk about it.

Funny thing is,
I know how you feel.

Boo, can you keep a secret?

Sure.

You know that, uh,
story I tell

about when the aliens,
you know...

Oh, my God.

Dale, are you saying
that that actually happened?

Huh?

No, no, no.

I mean, it never happened.

I made it up.

You've got to
believe me,

I wanted it to happen.

I mean,
I wanted to see aliens.

I still do.

But just because
you want something
to be true...

Dale...

I understand, really.

I do.

I know there are aliens
out there and all.

God, I know how desperate
that must sound.

I just wanted
to be accepted, you know?

I mean, all the people here
at the convention...

they're like my family.

They accepted me
when nobody else would...

and it's all based on a lie.

Can you ever forgive me?

Of course, I can.

Thank you.

[gargling]

[toilet flushing]

Wow.

You were great, Boo.

Now, I've been
with a lot of women,

not that I'm bragging,

but... Wow.

You are... [mumbling]

And that was...

Wow.

You didn't think it was wow,
did you?

No, it was fine, Dale.

It was just what I needed.

It was?

It was real. It happened.

There's no denying it.

That's one way
of looking at it, I guess.

You and I just had sex.

That's a fact.

It was way better for you
than it was for me.

-That's another fact.
-Hey. Now, wait a minute.

Just because
I wouldn't stick my tongue--

Dale, I'm not
passing judgment, okay?

-[telephone ringing]
-It's just that

I have never been
more confused or tired...

-[telephone continues ringing]
-...in my whole life.

Hello?

-Listen to me carefully--
-Mr. Buford?

Try and understand
what I'm saying.

It's all about John, okay?
John.

His life is going
down the drain.

Who? What the hell
are you talking about?

Listen, it's nothing personal,
Mr. Buford,

but you sound
like you've been drinking.

Boo, please,
listen to me very carefully.

I'm not trying
to turn you on
or turn you off.

I'm... I'm venting, okay?

I'm venting.

Actually, Mr. Buford,
I'm right in the middle
of something.

Damn it, Boo,
you've got to listen to me.

[explosion]

Oh, my God.

Boo, you've got to help me.

I'm in a phone booth
outside Kyle Plastics.

You got that? Kyle Plastics.

The nerve of that man.

After all
that he's done to me,

to call here at this hour...

Where did Buford say he was?

It doesn't even matter.

He's drunk and he's probably
feeling sorry for himself.

Maybe,
but if I've learned anything

from my experience
in the security field,

it's that nothing
is ever as it seems.

The man called you
for a reason, Boo.

-We need to find out why.
-[zips pants]

Oh.

[groaning]

I could've told you
this was a waste of time.

Mr. Buford?

-Mr. Buford, are you here?
-Oh, my God. There he is.

Is he...

He's dead, all right.

[indistinct radio chatter]

[ambulance door shuts]

It's sad.

It's so sad.

Something is not right here.

Dale, please, you saw
all the bottles.

He was inebriated.
Obviously, he hit his head,

and he fell down
and he bled to death.

Sure, sure. He seemed drunk,
but was he?

150 CCs of government-grade
Sodium Pentothal

would have exactly
the same effect on him.

The government
did not do this.

I'm not saying
it was the government.

Could be the Fifth Column
for all we know,

or the Masons,
or the Illuminati, maybe.

Where's the damn fragment?
That's what I want to know.

Well, obviously,
the government got it back.

Ooh, or maybe
it was the aliens.

Except that's not
what this picture says.

Tell you what I think.
Government guys follow him,

think they've found
their prize,
discover they're wrong,

get a little carried away
demonstrating their
disappointment.

Or, have you thought of this?

Maybe it's just
what it seems to be.

Mr. Buford was a lonely drunk

who thought
he could have a few laughs

pulling a fast one
on a bunch of social outcasts.

That's exactly
what they want you to think.

Look, when it comes to UFOs,

the government's agenda
never changes.

Discredit, disavow...

disinform.

Now, what you see is real,

but it's
a little more complicated.

A spaceship
looks like a spaceship,

hell, it may even be
a damned spaceship,

but it's not really
a spaceship.

You ever wonder how
much work it would take

the people who come up
with these plans

to actually
come up with them?

That's why the government
has whole agencies
dedicated to this kinda stuff.

FEMA, ATF, CIA,
the Tri-Fab Commission.

The what?

You haven't heard about
the Tri-Fab Commission?

Probably better that way.

Oh, yeah,
much better that way.

You know, you're starting
to sound like me,
doubting everything.

Maybe I'm just wising up.

[Mr. Buford]
It's all about John, okay?
John!

"It's all about John."

Who the hell is John?

[Mr. Buford] His life
is going down the drain.

"His life is going
down the drain."

[Mr. Buford]
I'm venting, okay?
I'm venting.

"I'm venting..."

[beeping]

[electronic humming]

That smart son of a bitch.

He kept it wrapped up
nice and tight
to keep in the light.

So, I guess it is real.

Maybe.

I still want
to believe in it,
but I want to believe

because I know
intrinsically what it is.

Obviously,
it's no ordinary hunk of metal.

Well, yeah.

I mean, it floats.

But do we know why it floats?

No.

Does the fact that it floats

mean that it comes from
outer space, and that's
the only possible explanation?

I'm not qualified to say,
and neither are you.

Still, the fact
that it does what it does,

it's got to be
from an alien technology.

Or maybe it's just
a really clever magic trick,

and we haven't figured out
how they're doing it.

If you want
to drive yourself crazy

thinking up
all these what-ifs,
go right ahead.

Personally, I think it's time
to look what truth I do know
squarely in the face.

You want to know
why I believe in aliens?

I believe in aliens
because I needed to.

When I was in college,
I met this guy, Winton,

and we had a little daughter
named Krishna.

One day,

we were all heading
to this ashram in Oregon.

It was Winton's idea.

He was always very spiritual
that way.

And we stopped
at this little cafe

out in the middle of nowhere

so I could use the bathroom,

and when I came out,
they were gone.

They just drove off
without you?

They never showed up
at the ashram,

and they never went back
to our little apartment,

and when I called
Winton's family

to find out what had happened,
they said no.

I mean, as far as they knew,

Winton and Krishna
had just vanished.

Maybe they weren't
telling the truth.

Well, I'm sure they weren't.

And I guess I got really
carried away,

because the next thing I know,
I'm locked up in this hospital,

and I'm looking out the window,
day after day,

thinking to myself,
"Where'd they go?"

[chuckles] "Where'd they go?"

And then, one day,
another patient wanders by,

and says,
"Maybe the aliens took them."

And I thought to myself,
"Well, why the hell not?"

I mean,
I could live with that.

Funny thing is,

that's when I started
to feel better.

Sounds like his family
talked him into leaving you,

and taking
the baby with him.

[chuckles softly]

I guess I need
to look into that, huh?

So, what do we do
about this?

We tell the truth.

[Tyler] What is with
all the mystery, Ike?

We really need
to get down
to the convention floor.

I've got a booth
to finish setting up.

Look, everyone,
I know this is inconvenient,

but I promise it's important.

Oh, Boo, come on in.

Okay, you all remember
how we searched

Mr. Buford's hotel room
yesterday?

Well, we missed something.

You found the fragment?

Well done, Boo.
Well done.

I knew it would turn up.

I thought we all agreed
it was fake.

That's funny, I don't remember
anyone agreeing to anything.

[laughing]

Why don't you, uh,
check the ceiling tiles?

Go ahead and rip up
the carpet, if you like.

[Polk] My God!

[all laughing]

My God!

I told you it wasn't fake.

No, I told you.

What are we all
sitting here for?

-Come on,
let's take it downstairs.
-No, no, no, no.

Everybody, hang on
just a second.

Wait a minute, okay?

Now, we have to be
very careful about this.

Ike says he wants us
to be taken more seriously,

and that's what has to happen.

You don't think
they're gonna
take this seriously?

Are any of you a metallurgist?

Maybe a physicist?

How about your plain old
garden variety scientist?

[chuckles]
I didn't think so.

Which means,
that as interesting
as this thing is,

we don't know what it is.

Therefore,
we are going to present this
to the world as a mystery,

and we are going
to invite the world,

the government included,
to help us solve that mystery.

[all] The government?

Don't you see?

This is a part of our problem.

[all clamoring]

We don't trust anybody,
not even ourselves,

which is why I'm hoping
that by reaching out,

in the spirit of cooperation,
that we can end
the mistrust and the paranoia.

Ike...

You...

You want me to do it?

You're our leader.

I think the world
should hear about this
from one voice...

Yours.

Thank you, Boo.

I appreciate this.

Is there anyone here
who doesn't agree
with what we're doing?

Good.

Let's go tell the world!

[squeals]

Where the hell is everyone?

Didn't you just
pass them in the hall?

They're heading down
to the convention floor.

[grunts]
Who's got the suitcase?

-Ike does.
-We've got to stop him.

Dale, don't get me started.

I just saw Gunther Van Owen
in the parking lot.

I don't think he's here
for the refreshments.

What are you talking about?

Remember when I said
I was looking into some people?

Well, say hello
to Ike Pilchard.

Gunther Van Owen's best buddy

and card-carrying member
of the Fifth Column

and the FB-freakin'-I!

You've got to listen to me
before you go down there.

Do you recognize the guy
in the potato-sack race?

-[Boo] That's Ike.
-At a Fifth Column picnic
ten years ago.

I got this
off the Fifth Column website.

Here's another shocker.

Gunther Van Owen.

-He's a Shriner.
-So?

It's basic! Basic!

Shriners are Masons.

Masons have ties
to the U.S. government,

which have gone
all the way back to
the beginnings of the republic.

Now, to reach the highest
level of Masondom,

the 33rd level,

Masons from all over the world
have to travel
to Washington, D.C.

The connections are obvious.

The Fifth Column and the FBI
are one and the same!

Dale, that is
the flimsiest story--

All right, all right.
What about this one, then?

This is from
the telephone directory

of the J. Edgar Hoover Building
in Washington, D.C.

What's Gunther's name
doing on there
if he isn't a fed?

Oh, my God.
Gunther Van Owen,
right there on the page.

Disavow, discredit--

-Disinform.
-Exactly.

Doesn't that sound
like Gunther to you?

It sounds like the whole
damned government to me.

-So Ike and Gunther...
-Are plants.

Hide in plain sight times two.

And I have just
put the fragment
into their hands.

How much do you want to bet

that those bastards
have already
switched that fragment

for some cheap plastic doodad?

So that when Ike
gets up there
and reveals it to the world--

Everyone's going
to think we're lying.

-They're gonna think we're
a bunch of crazy people.
-We've got to stop him.

-Come on.
-Come on.

[indistinct chatter]

[woman on speaker]
Okay, everyone, sit down.

[man 1] Ah! I surrender!

[man 2] Here they come.
Here they come.

[Ike clears throat]

Good morning, everyone.

I'd like to welcome you all

to the 10th annual
North American UFO Convention.

[all cheering]

I think you'll find
this year's gathering

is, well, to put it mildly,
kind of special.

And I'm happy to see
our friends in the media
have shown up, too.

I promise you,
you will not be disappointed.

So, our story begins
at Mr. Monty's
House of Fondue...

The whole Fifth Column's here.
I can feel it.

And the CIA, the FBI,
the Tri-Fab Commission.

[Ike speaking indistinctly]

There. There.
Do you see him?

Is that a person?

[Dale] It's Gunther.

What's he doing up there?

If I know anything
about how the feds operate,

he's their
insurance policy.
Come on, hurry.

So, to be honest,
we're not exactly sure

how poor Mr. Buford
came to his untimely
demise last night.

All we do know
is that he showed up,

gave us the spaceship fragment
that's in this suitcase,

then ran.

Now, those of us
who attend these conferences,

we hear a lot of stories,
and some of them
are pretty fantastical,

which is all a convoluted way
of saying that what I'm
about to show you is...

Well...

I guess I'll let it
speak for itself.

-No, sir, Ike.
Not today, you don't.
-Dale, what are you doing?

We know all about
you and Gunther.

You Fifth Column lover.

Boo, what are you
talking about?

Ladies and gentlemen,
I must apologize.

Those us at NAUFOC
are well aware
that Mr. Larose

is somewhat prone
to hyperbole.

Don't listen to him, folks.

Ike here is
the picture definition of liar.

What he doesn't want you
to know is that he's an agent
of the government,

the federal government,

who have been trying to
get their stinking hands
on this metal fragment

-since we got it last night.
-Ladies and gentlemen,
I implore you...

[people gasp]

He wanted us to open this
and show you what was inside.

He knew that you would think
that we are liars,

and we're crazy,
because there's
nothing in here.

The truth is aliens are real.

They're here.
They're among us,

and they're working
with our government.

Our government is lying to us,

-and the proof--
-[gunshots]

[crowd exclaiming]

Dale! Dale!

[crowd screaming]

Believe.

[gasping]

[crowd shouting indistinctly]

It looks like four shots
have been fired

here at the North American
UFO Convention.

More and more shots
now ringing out.

It's just pandemonium here
at the convention.

Dale was telling the truth.

That's why
the government killed him.

You've got to
listen to me.

Disavow, discredit,
disinform,

that's what they're
trying to do to us.

Please.
We're just getting word now

that the police
have surrounded the shooter.

Don't move, asshole.
Don't move a muscle!

Our source is telling us now

that the police have
a tentative ID on the shooter.

Apparently, he belongs
to a splinter group

which is at odds
with the convention leadership

over some kind of alien finger.

His name is Gunther Van Owen--

That is not the truth!

Gunther Van Owen
works for the government.

Gunther Van Owen
is the government.

Ladies and gentlemen,
it's a very, very sad day here.

The question isn't really,
do aliens exist?

We'll probably never know
the answer to that.

The real issue here is
what would make
one of these people so angry,

what would cause them
to become so unhinged

that they would perpetrate
an act of violence like this?

A toaster?

Dale was right.

[clamoring]

[siren wailing]

I think we did it.
How is he?

He is fine.

But he'd be a whole lot better
if that so-called marksman

hit the vest
where he was supposed to.

When we get back to the office,
I would like a word with him.

[man] And the package?
Can I see it?

Right here.

Good job, Agent Paulson.

Think the folks back there
Will buy the goods
we just sold them?

If you mean, will anyone know
the Tri-Fab Commission
did this,

I doubt it.

Those poor, crazy bastards
back there,

no one'll ever believe
a word they say ever again.

[growls]

Even when they're right.

[sobbing]
I believe, I believe,
I believe, I believe.

I believe, I believe...

[Control Voice]
Sometimes, the best way
to hide the truth

is to keep it in plain sight.