Original subtitles

Please Mister...

We are seeing the infinitely cunning operations

of an infinitely complex mind...

I am being made to eat and drink my own thoughts.

It's cruel! It's so cruel!

My own life coming back at me.

Just you wait until you hear my offer, Professor!

It'll knock you out!

It-cannot-be-that-that-damaged-remnant... knows his own condition.

I'll send you back in one of my specials.

You just speak your instructions... - Oh, we have those.

Our corporation has those too. - With a bar in the back?

A bar? Well... no... but in any cashe... I...

Oh. All right. Why not? You naughty man

Just ID yourself with SA1G... S A 1 G...

that, in case you should wonder, stands for Stiltz A1 Guest.

Stiltz High-Interest Trade would have done.

And it makes a better acronym. - What?

Capital initials. S H I T.

I'm afraid SA1G will have to do. THREE

Here you are.

Complete with a bar and ice machine.

Enjoy the trip, my dear and remember. Answer by noon tomorrow.

Tick one box. - Tick one box.

Good night, Professor. - Good night.

I'll squeeze that milk from your withered udders,

you hoity old cow. Just you see!

Wants me pissed...

Nasty man.

I just... don't... know.

Stop here! - IDENTIFY, PLEASE.

Oh, um... oh shit!

NOT RECOGNIZED. IDENTIFY, PLEASE.

S A 1 G. Stop. - AM STOPPING.

S A 1 G. Reverse. Slowly. - AM REVERSING. SLOWLY.

Stop! - AM STOPPING.

And shut your mouth! - NOT REGOGNIZED.

Oopsy-doopsy Prof! Wait here.

WILL WAIT. - Oh, shut up.

NOT REGOGNIZED. - Oh-h.

Come on. I wanna go to wee-wees.

Evening.

Oh, dear sweet Jesus. What do you want?

Fyodor. Let me in. It's important!

I... I'm asleep! Go away! - Fyodor! Let me in! At once!

How dare you keep me out here... - Get down, lady.

I think it's just robbers and not... Jesus! Get down!

Nervy cop! Nervy cop! - Fyodor! There's trouble down here!

Nervy cop! Nervy cop! Nervy cop! Nervy cop!

Just ?????????????????????????

You certainly took your time, young man. What do you mean, you were asleep?

How can you go to sleep so early? What time is it, anyway?

I... I... Eleven o'clock. Nearly.

Oh, my God! - What?

That means I've been with that man for close on ten hours!

Fyodor? - W-what?

Have I come at... Oops.

Oh dear. He's given me too much to...

Fyodor. You look terrible. What's the matter?

Please, will you sit down! You're hovering over me like a...

like... Fyodor, are you ill?

I... eh... yes...

A sort of fever or... or...

fell asleep at my desk, and... I... - Had a nightmare, by the looks of you.

Excuse me. I'm not myself. Oh God.

Fyodor, my dear...

Maybe it's some bug, or a...

And poor Kaya. That really got to me.

I know. She keeps flashing in and out of my mind, too.

Such a sweet and... What could possibly have happened?

I don't think I can let you stay long, Emma. I'm just about all in.

I'm sorry. I've intruded, I can see. I shouldn't have any more

but suddenly I feel stone cold sober

and badly in need of a talk.

Stiltz? - Stiltz.

I know, such people make me feel contaminated.

Contaminated?

But then again, I don't suppose he's all that much worse

than the Martina Masdons of this world...

We're entirely run by giant corporations,

and they in turn are entirely run by people who...

who have no regard for any other structure, any...

Contaminated. - What?

Emma. I...

Fyodor!

Fyodor... !

Ahh... no... enough...

Andrew Q Milton.

Director of Public Affairs.

Ex-Director of Public Affairs. Come on. Get up. And explain.

We had a row. - What about?

Leave that a minute.

I might be able to tell you. - You had a row?

I totally lost my temper. I mean totally.

I picked up my delicate-looking little art-deco figurine...

and it turned out to be far less delicate than it seems.

I hit him over the head with it.

And as he fell, I hit him again. As hard as I could.

You're quite sure he's dead? - Absolutely.

What are you going to do?

I haven't the faintest idea.

You're going to kill me, too!

No? - No, Emma.

I'm terribly sorry about this. He k...

I'm sorry. I... have to think.

And in order to think, really think, you have to

talk about and think about something else, haven't you? It's like referred pain.

Stiltz.

He's offered me... us... the kingdoms of the world.

He can guarantee all our funding. - What?

Double all our salaries, move us into our own laboratories,

provide us with all the alpha-neuropeptide 1042

and all the cerebrospinal fluids we 'll ever need...

What? - And to cap it all,

he'll enable us to make submicroscopic modifications in many, many more cerebral circuits

by pushing us from 40 % to 80 %

of those ten billion neurones in the cerebral cortex.

But... but that would cost zillions... I mean

billions and billions... that would be one of the costliest...

Plus all the law suits... - The what?

Well, it's theft, isn't it? Stiltz Corporation purloining the Masdon material.

We'd have to get that boxed-up head out of there, for a start.

But think of it, Fyodor! Our own lab! Those resources!

That percentage of the cortex! My God in blue heaven!

And in return?

We prostitute ourselves. - Exactly.

And what, what does he get for all those zillions? What?

Ah now. This is the thing.

He get's the right to take the memories of Daniel Feeld,

edit them, and transmit them on all over the world on his TV, his cable,

his videos, his VRs, his whole crock of shit.

He's convinced that he'll sweep the ratings

when people out there see what it was really like to walk and talk

and play and screw nearly 400 years ago. - And maybe,

just maybe, he's too smart for his own good. Maybe. Maybe!

You see, he's right in a way... how... stupendous

to see the real past through the eyes and feelings

of someone who lived in it. Oh, God!

What an escape! Can't you just imagine how avidly

people would lap it up. And then... and then! ...

oh, if only! ... and then they might look at the world around them,

the world as it is now, and start to ask questions!

Why do we have to live like this? Why cannot we walk in the streets?

Why can't we mingle and touch and hope

in the way our forefathers and mothers used to do? Why? Why? Why?

You're getting to sound like a RON.

I am.

Reality Or Nothing. I believe it. - You... !

I joined like hundreds, no thousands, of others for political reasons.

Not to terrorize. Not to shed blood. But to sabotage.

To throw up the right questions in the right places, to rescue...

And... now...

Now I can't get out.

You can't resign from the party. It's for life.

It's for life or death.

And Milton there... he found out about you. Is that it?

He's my section leader! He recruited me in the first place.

Andrew Milton? - Oh, we're here, there, everywhere.

Then... what were you... ?

That poor little girl Kaya.

I met her in the corridor when she ran out of the lab.

Her disgust with the work seemed promising.

I left her with Andrew.

You mean... Andrew killed her.

My fault. She was horrified by the very thought of the RONs.

And he'd gone so far that he'd compromised himself.

That's what he came to me for, tonight, to explain,

to justify... But how can you explain, how can you justify?

I just felt this... this hot mist, this rage...

and I picked up whatever it was I could pick up, and...

and... dear God. Oh, dear Christ in Heaven.

So now you'll have to kill me.

Will I?

Do you intend to try to sabotage my project?

I did intend to, yes. It is an obscenity.

But now? - No.

Are you sure? - Yes. I'm sure.

No... I will not sabotage this. Not now.

I still have a few shreds and tatters of hope in us as citicens

rather than simply consumers...

Oh, don't preach. - Preach!

OK.

OK. This is how I see it.

You should take the tainted silver,

scrape out our poor creature's memories,

and show billions of people out there that, yes,

there were other ways to live. Let the past speak!

Let it accuse! - So it backfires on Stiltz?

Explodes in his face!

And the ugly mugs of all the other little Stiltz's,

all the little Masdon's and their related turds.

Do it, Emma.

Go for it.

Don't be late for work.

¶ A long time ago a million years BC

¶ The best things in life were absolutely free

¶ But no one appreciated

¶ A sky that was always blue

¶ And no one congratulated

¶ A moon that was always new

¶ So it was planned that they would vanish now and then

¶ And you must pay before you get them back again

¶ That's what storms were made for

¶ And you shouldnt be afraid for

¶ Every time it rains it rains

¶ Pennies from heaven

¶ Don't you know each cloud contains

¶ Pennies from heaven

My goodness... ! That's what I call cash.

That's nothing. Nothing! Pocket money.

Know why they call me `Pig'? `Pig' Mailion?

Um. It doesn't sound very nice.

It's cos I like me dosh by the trough-load, fella!

Well, that's the.... Sorry. Frog in my throat.

Nah. Not a frog.

You got gold in them tonsils, I'll tell you

Now listen, what you need is a good manager, somebody who'll...

Hey. What is this?

You need a few stars in your crown, Arthur.

It's not overload. It can't be. - No. Not overload.

If it were not impossible, technically impossible, I would say it was a pure black-out,

I mean total loss of consiousness in trauma.

The most extreme form of amnesia you can get.

Why do you say `technically impossible'?

My God. You're right.

Those cells, the stimulated ones,

could behave in any normal brain pattern within the parameters we've set.

That means... that would mean we have to distinguish what type of amnesia we've got here...

anterograde, retrograde or post-traumatic.

And the gunshot... the killing, my God... our man was a murderer!

Fyodor.

We've just discovered that our Daniel Feeld as was

shot a man at virtually point-blank.

I'm sorry I'm late. Again.

Yes. So am I. - I had a bad night...

and then an intorebaly real, authentic-seeming nightmare

in which I was about to be executed for beeing a RON terrorist.

Jesus. - But why that, Doctor?

There are no whys in nightmares. Only whats.

Which is more or less the problem we now have...

I'd say post-traumatic amnesia, but arrested,

we can't move him back, we can't move him on.

Today of all days. - Today? What do you mean?

Fyodor? Help. - Mmmm. It's possible...

oh, there is so much leakage, so much after freeze damage between the...

Maybe the amygdala has been overstimulated... by accident, so to speak.

You know, that whole fight or flight syndrome.

And here the motor and autonomic responses have simply ceased.

We need to use switching mechanisms... serotoien, noradrenalin and so on...

Noradrenalin, yes. Arouse that state of attentiveness.

Can't we reverse the whole process...

and feed him a memory? - What, not one of his own?

Well, if it was some public event that he might have seen

or have heard talked about... - With you.

...it might have triggered some response.

Archive 2611. Pick random twenty to thirty seconds' public event...

say... 1983.

Zip it through the capillaries into our Feedbox. - Which lab?

Cryonic Lab A. - Cost you.

Oh, and some STFU.

Some what? - Shut The Fuck Up!

The beta grade neo-noradrenalin will be ready when the archive stuff flows...

Disposed of? - Yes. Gone.

If I know archive, this'll be utterly useless...

Have the police questioned you yet about poor Kaya?

Only for an hour. By the time they finished, I was beginning to think I'd done it.

Me, too. - Well... you sound like conspirators.

Oh, the poor girl. - Have they questioned you, Dr Glazunov?

Of course. - Are we ready?

What mark? The noradrenalin?

As soon as the spool light comes on... 3...

No, 2,9!

Spool light on!

Does Prince William have a favourite toy?

Um, Jamie. he loves his Koala bear he's got.

But he hasn't got anything particular. He just likes to make a bit of noise.

He's got a plastic whale that throws things out at the top. Little balls.

What on earth was that?

Whatever it was, it doesn't seem to... - And it makes sense, too.

Christ, you don't know me from Adam.

Or Eve. - Who?

Oh. Yeah. Ought to say Eve, being a woman, enn'I?

And I love my Koala bear a lot.

No doubt about it.

I want to say something about you and to you.

What? - Mumble, umble phlastic whale mumm.

What? - Dont get worried or upset.

I'm not going to jump on you or anything like that.

I don't want to offend you... but I must say something.

But he hasn't got anyfink in particular. He just likes to make a bit of noise.

You are utterly enchanting.

You are fresh air to me.

I feel lifted up in your presence.

I once knew a young woman whom all the songs were about.

She throws things out at the top. - All the songs. All of them.

The green-eyed dazzler I met in a Forest of Nead dance hall.

And thoy be sitting on these here at Porthcawl all bloody morning.

Her with next to nothing on, mind. Bikini... Thou's know!

Two cups full, eh, Dan?

`I got to touch her, just got to, bloody got to,' him said to I.

Cos her kept looking sort of sideways at'n.

I mean, with a bit of encouragement and that...

Jim. Is this true? Or just one of your stories?

True as I be standing here. Anyway,

him thought the best approach'd be by a bit of horseplay.

Well, that'd be fine if she were a mare.

`Old on, `old on, Daniel.

Tha bist always trying to go one better on I, ent you?

Oops. - So...

They go for a walk in the afternoon, see...

along the sand... and suddenly him jumps on her...

`I'd like to duck you!´ he says, pushing her towards the water.

`Duck me?' she says. `Christ, you con even bloody spell it!'

Daniel...

Oh hi, John. How is it?

I'd like you to meet my girlfriend, Dan. Beth. Beth Carter.

Beth, this is an old pal of mine from grammar school, Daniel Feeld.

`Double E' Feeld, eh, Dan?

That's right. Pleased to meet you, Beth. - Nice to meet you too, Dan.

John says you're at Oxford... Is that right? - Yeah. Clever bugger, ent he?

Well. It beats work that's for sure! So, um.

How long have you been, um, going out with old John here?

Well, I wouldn't really say that we... - Two months!

Were's my beer? - ¶ Did you ever see a dream walking?

¶ Well, I did.

¶ Did you ever see a dream talking?

¶ Well, I did.

¶ Did you ever have a dream thrill you with,

¶ `Will you be mine?'

¶ Oh, it's so grand and it's too, too divine

¶ Did you ever see a dream dancing?

¶ Well, I did

¶ Did you ever see a dream romancing?

¶ Well, I did

¶ Did you ever see heaven right in your arms,

¶ saying, `I love you, I do'

¶ Well, the dream that was walking ¶ and the dream that was talking

¶ And the heaven in my arms was you

Well, well... it's... um... it's Beth, isn't it? Beth Carter.

We met on Sunday at... - At the dance. Daniel Feeld.

With two Es. - With two Es.

Where are you going? If I may dare to ask?

To Monmouth, to get my hair done. - Oh, not cut. Not cut, I hope.

But it's a bit raggedy at the ends... - It's perfect, Beth.

Not to good with the woman, is he? - I'd run a mile.

Towards? - Away from!

Yes? Can I... ? - I... ah... is Beth home by any chance?

At three o'clock on a weekday? - I meant... um... If I...

Hers at work, o'butty. At Mallard's.

Oh. Yes. Of course. The grocery place... ?

Her's cashier there. Good wi' figures, mind, our Beth. Always was.

Bye Beth. - Bye Mrs Heart.

Good Beth...

We do that, you know. At certain times in our...

Dan, are you all right?

The fee... What we hear... see... think that what is so... say

out there... in front of us...

we feel it's somehow or other been arranged in advance by... by...

I don't know what to call it. - Paranoia?

I've always longed to be an artsy-fartsy arsehole, Anna,

which is why I want to work for the Arts Council

or that magazine, what is it? Sight and Sound? I'd make a...

It's straight out of... It's straight out of the film.

Now look, Sandra. - No, you look.

I mean... it's not as though you got to keep on doing it wiv him, now is it?)

I don't want to do it with him at all, fanks bleed'n much.

It's the second page of my...

¶ Did you ever see a dream walking?

¶ Well, I did.

¶ ... see a dream talking?

What's happening here?

What's happening? - Daniel?

What on earth are you on about?

They are speaking my lines.

To the second. That's perfect! We're well clear of the trauma syndrome.

But did you notice the way the `memory' we fed him bumped into his real ones?

And his real ones bumped into his own real ones, if you follow me.

But we all do that, don't we? - All the time.

Just so I get it on the record, Dave,

just so as you don't get up four months from now

and yell for Harry Schumpert to be dewhatsipated, I want to be adamant...

To be what?

Adamant. - With me?

I want to be as near to adamant as your bullying cruelty will allow.

Your what? - I want to cringe, Dave.

OK. Go ahead. - And whine and crawl and wring my hands.

Consider it done. About what, though?

This head. - I'm right.

I'm right even when I'm wrong, Harry. - It-ain't-gonna-work.

How much you bet? - Not my job, that's for sure.

OK. I promise. Not your job. You've gone on record.

The record is noted, right here.

That head is going to outrate every damned show we got.

But it's so fucking old, Dave. It's like...

like...God, like one of those cheeses... - One of those what?

Crawling with maggots. Gives me the shudders.

Eating stuff like that. C'mon. - It'll be the most exciting,

most unexpected, most storiest of all the j...

Look, our biz, showbiz, call it what you will biz,

is all about taking a trip. A journey. That's all.

Looking over the next guy's fence. Right? - Right.

Five minutes to zero. - Yeah. Noon. I know.

Well...

maybe she'll say. No, no, no!

Listen, fella.

Those with high principles stuffed like a pole up their arse are no trouble at all.

You just reach out and take them. They're always ready to fall outa the tree,

the right and proper and the good and the true ones.

It's the people with no principles you gotta worry about!

I have no means of ensuring this will not be recorded.

I'll be brief. I tick the yes box. Now what do I do?

I'll wait instructions at home at seven.

Professor Porlock. - Correct.

What are you doing? - Minding my own business.

Come on, Professor. I shall have to report that at eleven fifty-nine hours

you made what appeared to be an audio call in circumstances that suggest...

Well, you tell me. - Good. And add that at eleven fifty-eight hours

I finished a wee-wee, and at twelve oh one hours

I talked to an impertinent oaf. - Hey! You!

ENTRANCE CLEAR

Nigel.

You see all this, Nigel?

Yes 'm.

Well, one day it won't be all yours. - No 'm.

But...

you can have some very nice sweet and juicy slices of it, boy.

Yes 'm.

Celestine! - Ms Masdon?

Split your face later. Not now. - Sorry, Ms Masdon.

Be a good boy, Nigel. And give us a drinkolo.

And give me a kiss. - Yes'm. Which first?

Get the drinks. - Yes 'm.

Bonehead. - Yes 'm.

Watchathink?

Don't let him finish your crossword puzzle, ma'am.

Ah, no. But what about his pectorals?

I wouldn't even be starting that puzzle, Ms Masdon.

Good girl, Celestine.

Oh, this is a pretty colour.

Deep purple. Definitely nice.

Twenty-nine. - Twenty-nine.

Sixteen. - Sixteen.

You like that, huh? - Yes. Later! Quick!

Give me my VR helmet and data gloves.

They're on the side table by the poolside window. - Yes 'm.

Then do it! Now! - Yes 'm.

I wonder. I wonder if...

At eleven forty-seven in Laboratory F

there was a double ordering of the same compound...

Fifty-nine, Guard Hopkins observed

Professor Porlock making what he considers to be an outside audiocall

while walking to no other purpose to and from Laboratory A.

At twelve oh three... - I wonder.

What am I missing?

Or the towpath... Maybe? Towpath. Christ! Listen, you.

I know this bleed'n bridge like the back of me own hand. Don't you tell me!

They do it deliberate! Too soddin' hard!

It's not just... It's not just them pieces... I...

No, no, I don't know.

Is there anything I can...

Would you like a cup of tea or something?

Tea? A cup of bloody tea?

No. Ta. But...

In there.

A little drop of mother's ruin. That might do the trick.

That cupboard. Up there!

Watchewbleed'ndoin'here! - Sandra. Thank God I've found you.

You're a bloody nutter! And you're frightening the life out of me!

Christ. Mustard. I... Oh, God...

One, zero.

You've got your peptide measurements down to the nth degree, Fyodor!

I'll say. You've worked it so...

Professor Emma Porlock. This is Martina Matilda Masdon

at eight-fifty a.m. Los Angeles time, five-fifty p.m. your west Europe time.

Register what I have to say.

I am registering, Ms Masdon.

First, what makes you behave in such a way

that could an uncharitable person to conclude

that you are a nasty two-faced, two-timing sewer rat?

Which uncharitable person would that be, Ms Masdon? I only know of one such.

Don't you hoity with this bitch, bitch! - What am I supposed to have done?

At eleven fifty-nine your time this morning

you went to elaborate lengths to make a so-say secret audio call

while walking to and fro to no purpose

in front of the laboratory. Am I right?

My business is my business, Ms Masdon.

On the contrary, dear. Your business is my business.

Did you call David Stiltz?

Who? - Never mind.

Who do you mean? The Muck Merchant... that Stiltz? Is that who?

I said never mind!

Now... get ready to crack your chops into a smile, Profesor.

If you can still do such a thing.

Oh, I certainly can, especially when I think of how wide the gap be.

What gap? - That between genuine wit and banter

and loutish verbal thuggery.

I bring thee good tidings of great joy, Emma.

Your budget will be maintained.

Thank you... but... um... - But? Do I hear but?

It's not big enough.

You graceless, ungratefful cow!

Wow.

And wow encore. Don't you think you...

No, I suppose you know... But if we can continue

even at only five, six minutes full out each day...

My God, Emma, you played it very cool.

I suppose you know what you're doing.

I hope so.

Anything? - Zero. Zero. Zero.

Everything's apple pie.

You look as though you've been through everything. - We have.

OK. Let's call it a day.

So, the man disappears. People disappear.

But while we're here... yes, why not? Call in our Lab A agent.

Nobody here knows that Milton has vanished, do they?

Not yet they don't.

ANDREW Q. MILTON (PUBLIC AFFAIRS) WISHES TO SEE BLINDA GEORGE

IN HIS OFFICE THIS FLOOR ASAP.

Public affairs? Me? - What have you been up to?

Ask him for some of his coffee, Blinda, it's a real treat to...

But why me? - Well, you'll have to find out, won't you, dear?

Look. Somebody say something.

I... - Luanda...

There's something going on, Tony. You saw it too!

I just saw it on your face... -I think I know what you mean,

look. Elimination.

There have been times when I've been on the brink of saying something

and pulled back. - Because of Blinda.

Blinda? Fuck, this is awkward.

We meant you two. - Which two?

You and me.

Well. Yes. You're right. We've... eh...

got ourselves tangled up with things.

One of which is, um...

that after talking to Fyodor...

To Stiltz.

Does it include... - The whole team.

Yes! - Except Blinda

I really don't understand why you are making such a fadolo about this...

Think about it! What would Milton want with a laboratory assistant!

What am I to do with public affairs! And what if he suddenly turns up...

He has turned up. - Dead.

Where? When?

In a bin-liner outside a bakery in Notting Hill.

Blunt instrument. Fully clothed. No prints.

No unmatching body fluids. No nothing.

And he left us no note as to where he was going

or whom he was seeing. Nothing.

In fact, apart from your dossier, Blinda,

we have almost damn all to connect him with the RONs.

He was one of them, OK. Everything here tells me.

And I know, I know he is up to something, as surely as I know

that Fyodor Glazunov is either a covert supporter or an active member.

Then why don't we pick him up?

And lose the chance to nab one of the big ones?

Someone I think is very close. To him and to me.

The wicked old bitch.

I don't want you to worry your head about it one little jot, Professor. OK?

You keep whomsoever of your lot... natch!

... and I throw in Dr Rawl here. Say hello, Doc.

Good evening, Professor Porlock. - Good evening, Dr Rawl.

What is your particular field, may I ask? - Sex.

I beg your pardon?

I am especially interested in sexual arousal, Professor.

And erectile tissue.

Excuse me one moment.

I'm sure that when you have talked together for a while,

Dr Rawl here, will become a valued and respected member of your team.

I think we need his particular expertise with the biowhatyouwants that he has specialized in.

But, be that as it may, I have already got a place for you to work.

The ICB labs have rented me an entire two floors of their complex at...

Where is it? - Hampstead.

So you get all the facilities. They make some of the stuff you buy in, isn't that right?

Yes, it's true.

Anything. Everything. All on tap.

I can outmatch that old witch cent by cent, dime by dime.

Now...

what I require is...

for one of your team, a guy on your squad,

to be send over here to my Kubla Khan's stately, well, you know,

ASAP. For why?

Because we need a navigator who isn't going to steer the ship into the fucking rocks...

Are you with me?

We got to move that box with that magic lump of grey stuff in it

without making what's left of the poor guy feel that his fucking face is falling off.

Am I right?

I'll go. - Hey, come on then! Move your feet, fella.

Do not address my distinguised colleague Dr Glazunov

in such an outrageously vulgar manner, Mr Stiltz.

Hey. Hey. We're family here, right?

If so, let us conduct ourselves accordingly.

Now, what the rest of you folks do is what the rest of you normally do when you've

finished your juice, cleaned your teeth and emptied your bowels, right?

You go to work. you turn up all bright and shining, as ignorant as bliss.

`W... watchewmean the Head's gone?'

`How can a Head take a walk?' All that kind of stuff, eh?

And how long do we keep that particular farce going?

As long as it takes! - Harry? Keep out of it.

But he's right... as long as it takes for you all to sit around,

tap your toes, pick your noses and say hey-wey

no head, no point, ta-ta, toodle-oo, goodbey. I resign!

And what if Martina Masdon doesn't cut our budget?

What if she decides to maintain it as it is... - Ha!

Thinking of two timing, are we?

Well, let me tell you this, Professor.

Your defrosted lump of gristle is gonna be plugged into

everybody's TV and VR helmet no matter what!

Right. Now this is vital. Once actually in Laboratory A

you will follow the precise instructions of Dr Glazunov.

Clear? - Clear!

I don't feel... I mean, I'm not ashamed or anything like that...

but I don't feel nice about writing at him in the way I did.

I mean, doing that damn National Service in Germany and all...

But, Daniel, Dan, he'd always taken too much for granted.

You know, he'd say. `This is Beth. She's my girlfriend',

And he'd say it like... like... Oh, I don't know...

`Hands off' is the way he said it. And you can't really blame him.

Not from where I'm sitting.

People say you're a bit... strange.

Do they? In what way? - Keep yourself to yourself.

Not any more. There's room for one other. Just the one.

Your brother... - What about him?

You being identical twins and all... - On the outside, only.

Will they ever let him out? - Look, he had a...

Oh, don't get angry! Please!

They call it a nervous breakdown.

They said he was more dangerous to himself than others.

He's got a brilliant mind... No, I mean brilliant...

All on the sciences, maths, all the academic subjects I most hate... !

He's taking a degree from where he is. He's happy.

I see him sometimes. - Do you?

Not as much as I should. - Oh, Dan.

You sound so... Sad.

Don't be, my love.

What's all this, then? What do you want?

What do you mean `What do we want?' Open the gates.

Quick about it! - We can't just... We want to see your...

I shall count to five. This is a matter of state security.

There is to be a RON raid here within the hour.

Open the gates or we smash them down and arrest both of you as co-conspirators.

One... !

Two... !

Three... !

Open the gates! Open the gates! - Five!!!

Coast clear.

Carefull.

Which one is the neurotransmitter guy? I've lost sight of you in this stuff.

Me, Doc. - We ought to be able

to disconnect ten leads or capillaries in each quarter of an hour.

Which gives us?

Which gives us one hour and a quarter.

I'm sorry.

We are about to move you, Mr Feeld.

This primary feed... must be the last one of all.

I'm with you.

OK. Let's make it look as if the RONs have paid a visit.

Subs edited by CINEMAAS.