All language subtitles for Radio Free Albemuth VALIS - Copia

My friend Nicholas Brady, who in
his own way tried to save the

world, lived in Berkeley
practically his whole life.

Back around 1985, Berkeley,
California seemed like an oasis

in a country that had become
polarized and divided.

But Fate or God or
whatever had something else

in store for my
friend Nick

and as it turned out,
for me, too.

Look, Nick, I appreciate your
interest in the business,

but these compact discs
aren't going to catch on.

Not with our customers.

Why not?

That digital sound
is too perfect.

It's cold.

Metallic.

Don't underestimate
the human element.

Even if CDs catch on, the
records here will

be worth a fortune.

Or nothing at all.

Life's a gamble.

Be patient.

One day it's all
going to be yours

and Rachel's, then you
can do what you like.

♪ I wanna destroy you ♪

♪ A pox upon the media ♪

♪ And everything
you read ♪

♪ They tell you
your opinions ♪

♪ And they're very
good indeed ♪

♪ I wanna destroy you ♪

♪ When I have
destroyed you ♪

♪ I'll come picking
at your bones ♪

♪ And you won't have
a single atom ♪

♪ Left to call
your own ♪

Hey.

Phil just called and
he's on his way over.

Please don't tell
him about last night.

Promise?

Mm.

Muah.

Have a good day.

Bye, baby.

Sorry, I'm late.

My cat got run over
by a truck yesterday.

That's the bad news.

What's the good news?

My new novel,
getting published.

In hardcover this time.

Oh, wow, that's
great, man.

Which one?

The one about what
might have happened

if the Nazis won
the war.

I have an idea you might
be interested in.

Last night, I woke up and I saw
me staring down at myself.

I think Rachel saw it,
too, but now she's not sure.

That's weird.

Were you high?

You know I don't
smoke anymore.

I think it was
a future me.

Could something like that
be possible, time travel?

It seemed like I was there to
help me or warn me or something.

Might be.

Did you look any older?

No, I looked
exactly the same.

Maybe it was an alternate self
communicating with you from an

alternate universe.

Can you use the idea?

Nope, too ordinary.

Too ordinary, huh?

Well, that's--
that's me.

Cheer up.

You're still having
a better day than my cat.

And so, while the membership
lists were destroyed prior

to the collapse of
the Soviet Union,

the code name for this
organization has been given

to us by our new
Russian allies.

That name is Aramchek,

an agency of treason
and subversion.

Aramchek.

Remember that name.

This secret organization
refuses to acknowledge that

democracy and free
enterprise have triumphed.

Instead, they would
turn back the clock,

lead America into a dark
shadowy future of a godless

dictatorship.

In the near future, I intend to
report to you, the American

people, the progress of our war
on this cadre of evildoers.

In the meantime,
good night,

and may God bless the
United States of America.

The President's address this
evening contained a real

bombshell,
didn't it Hugh?

And I wouldn't be surprised if
this new crisis didn't have

some bearing on President
Fremont's decision whether or

not to seek an unprecedented
fifth term in office--

15 years in office.

You'd think that would
be enough for anyone.

Not Fremont.

The only way you get him out of
the Oval Office is in a casket.

A record store clerk in Berkeley
will have many troubles.

When he moves to Los Angeles,
he will find what he's been

searching for
his entire life.

I've had the strangest feeling
the last couple of days.

It's like I've been asleep
my whole life waiting for

something to happen.

We gotta get out
of Berkeley.

And how do you
plan on that?

I'm thinking of
applying for a new job.

I've already started talking to
some of the record company reps

down in LA.

Maybe they're just
ordinary dreams.

Night after night?

The images always appears
between 3:00 and 4:00

in the morning.

I think I'm being
programmed in my sleep.

Just because I write science-
fiction, doesn't mean I believe

in any of that stuff.

I don't even think flying
saucers are real.

I think a higher intelligence
has seen my needs and is

directing me towards
something important,

some extraordinary goal.

So, a powerful
entity guiding you,

helping you get
your shit together?

Sounds good, what do
you think it is?

Don't laugh, but I've
got a name for it.

I call it VALIS.

VALIS?

It's an acronym for Vast Active
Living Intelligent System,

because that's exactly what
it is and how I think of it.

Does this VALIS provide
you with any clues

as to your
amazing destiny?

I don't have any choice
other than to believe it.

I already got
a job offer.

Progressive Records is the
first company I applied to,

that's got
to mean something.

Just one problem.

What's that?

I hate Los Angeles.

Just for the sake of argument,
let's suppose it's something

evil like the voices
that told Mark Chapman

to shoot Mick Jagger.

VALIS has a destiny
for me in LA.

What am I supposed
to say to that?

This is real.

This is happening to me.

Maybe it's
a precognition.

Knowing what you're going
to do before you do it.

I wrote a story
about that, remember?

"The World Jones Made"?

Vaguely.

How'd that turn out?

Not so good.

Instead of being this wonderful
talent, being able to see a year

into the future, it locked
Jones into a closed loop.

He lost free choice.

What do you mean?

Well, since everything
was pre-determined,

he was forced to act
out his own future.

You foresee yourself
moving to LA.

So now you're moving.

You still don't
understand.

VALIS knows about you.

I was instructed to tell
you what's happening.

You're putting me on.

It's crazy, Nick.

We're leaving Berkeley
because some imaginary voice

tells you to uproot
our lives?

It's not a practical way to
make a life-changing decision.

What's better?

Columbus listening to the
imaginary voices in his head

that said "keep sailing" or the
real voices that said it was

all hopeless
and doomed.

Aren't results
what matter?

See you guys
after lunch.

Hey, Phil!

I was starting to think you were
going to miss our last day!

What, are you kidding?
Not a chance.

I even brought
refreshments.

Hi.

So.

None for me thanks.

That's the first drink
I've ever seen you refuse.

Did VALIS tell you to
go on the wagon?

As a matter
of fact, yes.

Oh, come on, baby,
lighten up.

You know, I've been trying
to get him to cut back

on alcohol for years.

His wife, he ignores, but one
little word from the Big Mind

in the sky...

All right,
okay, enough.

To friendship.

To Los Angeles.

To destiny.

Destiny.

Oh God, excuse me.

Could he get
any weirder?

How are you supposed to
relate to a friend whose life

is directed from
beyond the stars?

I mean, what kind of attitude
am I supposed to take to that?

Imagine being his wife.

It's taken over your
lives, hasn't it?

And the strange part is,
VALIS is doing a better job

than we ever did.

I've never seen
Nick so....

Motivated.

It's like he's an entirely
different person.

Yeah.

I've been thinking
about leaving him.

Wow.

What did you decide?

The decision has
been made for me.

I saw a gynecologist
last week.

I'm pregnant.

That's wonderful.

I haven't told Nick.

Okay.

I'm scared about
everything.

Tell me it's all
going to be okay.

Of course.

Of course it's
gonna be okay.

Though the Cold War may be over,
as you know, the secret

organization Aramchek is still
committed to undermining our

democratic institutions.

Accordingly, I have instructed
our Attorney General to prepare

the appropriate legislation to
amend those First Amendment

rights that have been so long
abused by our country's foes

and their unwitting allies
among the media elite.

No one regrets these measures
more than your President.

And so, following the
instructions of VALIS,

my friends Nick and Rachel
moved down to LA.

I thought of them often, but
it was more than a year until

I took the eight-hour bus ride
down from Berkeley.

Excuse me, sir.

Can I give you
the good news?

Jesus Christ.

I never thought
I'd see the day.

An old socialist like you
driving around in a Beamer.

You look great.

Yeah?

LA seems to
agree with you.

Still doing your art?

No, not so much.

I've been really busy,
with the baby and all.

How's Nick?

Oh, he's-- he's great.

He loves it here, too.

You know, he wanted
to pick you up himself,

but he's in the studio with
one of his new groups.

What about VALIS?

Phil, look,
do me a favor.

Don't bring up
that stuff.

Wow.

A far cry from
the record store, huh?

Hey, Phil.

Glad you could make it.

Get in here.

I want you to stick around
and check these guys out.

I'm gonna get a producer
credit on this album,

maybe a senior vice-presidency
if market research is right

about these guys.

You believing it?

Believe what?

All this, my act.

What are you
talking about?

So you bought it, too.

That's good, that means I must
be doing something right.

Check it out.

This is an image that I've been
shown over and over again.

What the hell?

Was that lightning?

Hey.

Nick?

Hey.

You okay?

I don't know why we
had to rush over here.

Ezra's just fine.

No, he's not,
I told you.

He has a birth defect.

Good morning.

Hey, Doctor,
thank you for coming.

He has an inguinal strangulated
hernia on the left side.

It's already descended
into the scrotal sac.

I'm used to parents imagining
dreadful diseases in the middle

of the night, but rarely
with such specificity.

I just saw Ezra
last week, but...

It's okay, it's all right,
it's okay...

Wait a second.

Page Dr. Andrews, tell
him to come right in,

it's an emergency.

I don't know what to tell you,
it's exactly what you thought.

Is he going
to be alright?

Yeah, he'll be fine.

It's a minor
problem to correct,

but it's potentially
very dangerous.

We caught it
just in time.

Hey.

How is he?

Ezra's going
to be fine.

What's going on?

How did you know that?

Was it VALIS?

Let's get Ezra
and Rachel home first,

then I'll fill you
in on everything.

I'm always amazed at how much
difference the desert air makes.

A lot cleaner than LA,
isn't it?

No spies,
no police informers.

Out here, the wind blows in
from the east and north.

For some reason,
the signal's much stronger.

I think VALIS is located
in our upper atmosphere.

How is that
even possible?

How could any kind of living
creature exist up there,

survive?

No, see, it's not--

It's not a he or
she or even an it.

It's a composite entity.

It's as if various beings had
come together and formed

a single body
and group mind.

How do you know
all this?

I've had dream after dream after
dream from their point of view.

From way up,
looking down.

To them earth is like this
horrible, stagnant pond and

human beings just swim around
in the muck trying to survive.

I think they're
anxious to help us.

That doesn't make
sense to me.

Highly evolved creature living
in the sky taking an active

interest in
human welfare?

Why would they?

I think they feel
sorry for us.

Try to imagine it.

Advanced beings
living alongside

the human race
throughout history,

watching our wars
and famines,

observing our
unbelievable cruelty,

our unbelievable
stupidity.

Wait a second, hold on.

I'm getting new
instructions.

You're never going to believe
where they want me to go.

...So, this modest bungalow is
the house where the president

actually grew up in
his formative years,

the dwelling where our beloved
leader first did homework,

first played basketball, first
read inspiring biographies

of history's
greatest men.

Don't worry,
there's no guards.

I guess they figure
no one would dare trespass

on the holiest
of holies.

Maybe they
have a point.

There it is.

What's the big deal?

It's just a signature
in the cement.

Probably the name
of the contractor.

Baby, look at it,
look at the name.

It's a little faded and hard
to read, but you see it,

right, Phil?

I'm seeing it,
but I can't believe it.

Aramchek.

I get this urge to go
to the Fremont Museum.

I wander away from
the group I see it.

Then I realize,
I was meant to see it.

Please don't tell me
you're starting up again

with the whole
VALIS thing.

Little Richard Fremont played in
that backyard and saw the name

written in the
cement, Aramchek,

and for whatever reason it
sticks in his little brain

as something sinister.

Once the boy grows up,
he projects his paranoia

on the whole world.

Aramchek, the super-secret
cabal of evil revolutionaries.

it's a figment of
his imagination.

A childhood memory.

It's genius.

The government declares war on
a terrorist organization that

doesn't even exist.

No one can
destroy it.

No one's safe from it.

No one knows when
it'll turn up again.

What do you think
happened to Mr. Aramchek,

Whoever he
actually was?

He's dead.

Or stuck away in some
rehabilitation camp.

What else would you expect
from Richard Fremont?

Do you really have
to go back to Berkeley?

Yeah.

I gotta finish my book.

Besides, I can't be your house
guest forever, you know?

It's gotten so...
weird all of a sudden.

No, man, you--
you just--

You do what
you need to do.

We'll be fine.

We have VALIS
to protect us.

Back in Berkeley my life
returned to normal,

which for me was
mostly work,

staying up all night with
the help of amphetamines.

While I was in LA, Nick and
I had spent hour after hour

talking about VALIS,

different theories about how it
operated, what it wanted,

why it had come now.

I had material for a dozen
stories just based on all

the premises
we spun out,

but none that I could write
about without betraying

my friend's confidence.

Gentlemen.

What can I do for you?

Are we putting out too
many protest songs?

No, on the contrary,
Mr. Brady.

May I call you Nick?

Sure.

Progressive has a very positive
rating with the Bureau, Nick.

One of the best in the whole
recording industry.

Just a precaution.

You'd be surprised
how many otherwise decent,

law-abiding Americans

think it's necessary to tape
informal interrogations like

this one.

How can I help you?

Actually, we're here
to help you, Nick.

We happen to know you're
currently under a great deal

of financial pressure.

Your wife wants your son to go
to an exclusive nursery school.

She also expects you to
put a large down payment

on a much larger house.

We're prepared to offer you
a simple, patriotic way

to enhance your salary
by up to $2,000 a month.

How does that
sound Nick?

Tax free.

Not even reportable.

I'm flattered you'd thought
of me but honestly, I have a--

Are you turning your country
down before you even know

what we're asking?

Maybe your loyalty evaluation
needs to be updated.

Wouldn't take any
extra work at all.

It's a function of work
you're already doing.

All right, I'll listen.

It's very
simple, really.

See, despite the generally
cooperative attitude of radio

stations and music executives
like yourself,

a number of anti-social
protest songs

are still
getting airplay...

Subject Nicholas Brady refused
to cooperate with the current

investigation.

The following is
a transcript of the conversation

taped with the subject.

Recommendation is for this file
to be sent to Washington

for inclusion in
Project Coliseum.

What can I do
for you?

Are we putting out too
many protest songs?

No, on the contrary,
Mr. Brady.

So you're certain nothing of
actual monetary value was taken?

Yeah, just
some papers.

Notes for my
new novel.

Fortunately, I've got a copy
that I keep with a friend.

Well, that seems like
a strange practice.

It's almost as if you were
anticipating some kind

of problem like this.

Not really.

It's just, uh...

I've been told you write some
very far-out science fiction.

Are you willing to testify under
oath that this isn't some kind

of crazy
publicity stunt?
Are you suggesting--

I'm not suggesting anything, but
we're inclined to believe you

staged this
break-in yourself.
Yeah?

Why would I trash my own house
and ransack my own files?

What better way to throw
suspicion off yourself?

Suspicion?
Suspicion of what?

That's what we're going to
need to investigate further.

I hope you'll make yourself
available for further

questioning, if necessary.

No, I'm going home.

Forget about the burglary,
forget about the police report.

A little late
for that, sir.

You almost can't blame the
government for being curious.

Half your stories read like
they were written on acid.

Your entire readership consists
of freaks and misfits.

Okay.

So they're curious, that
doesn't give them the right

to break into my house.

They probably just want to
know about your next novel.

I'd like to know, too.

It's called "Flow My Tears,
the Policeman Said."

Sounds political.

No.

Well, sort of,
it's like all my stuff.

Did they get
the manuscript?

No, I sent it
to my lawyer.

It's in his safe.

I sent it over as soon
as I was finished.

It's time for you
move down here.

We should wait to talk
'til I get to LA.

With any luck, this thing
will just blow over.

Not likely.

Once the authorities open a file
on someone, they never close it.

I'll talk to you soon.

My books were finally
finding an audience.

I was getting solid
critical reviews too,

especially on my really
insane novel,

"The Three Stigmata
of Palmer Eldritch."

The rumor got started that I'd
written it under the influence

of LSD.

The notoriety had undoubtedly
brought me to the attention

of the authorities,

but it had also
paid off in sales.

I was able to make a down
payment on a small bungalow

in the grungy Echo Park
area of LA.

When I wasn't working, I went
back as usual to hanging out

with Nick and Rachel.

My fellow Americans, this
evening's report will deal with

the remarkable progress we've
made this quarter with our
domestic

exports, despite
a temporary setback

in the agricultural
sector.

The unforeseeable effects of
terrorism and subversion remain

the only question
mark for our country's

continued
economic health.

You know, at first I thought
these test questions were easy,

just to see if we're
paying attention,

but once you actually start
thinking about them,

they're kind of tricky.

"If American citizens must

give up certain liberties
in the fight for freedom

does it mean
the country is,

"A," gaining ground or "B,"
losing ground in the war

against subversion.

Well, you can argue
it both ways.

By giving up liberties, maybe
they want us to say we can gain

ground by fighting
with our gloves off.

If weren't losing ground, we
wouldn't have to give up our

liberties.

It's a mindfuck.

Yeah.

If that's the kind of crap
they're teaching the kids

nowadays, no wonder
SAT scores are going down.

Make sure you mail in
our tests tomorrow.

We can't afford another
late mark next quarter.

♪ Infatuation
court well-met ♪

♪ 'Cause I'm the
easiest to sway ♪

♪ Catch my fancy
and calm it not ♪

♪ Riding fresh
chemistry ♪

♪ One by one
conditions change ♪

♪ Slippery slope yields
shekel phase ♪

♪ And gone are the
days of snare and tell ♪

♪ An admission to
sexy hell ♪

♪ I don my crown
and moniker claim ♪

♪ As Professional
Torturer ♪

♪ As mea culpa
renounce my name ♪

♪ Professional Torturer ♪♪

What an amazing voice.

Who is she?

Are you kidding?

It's Sylvia.

She's on your label.

You signed her.

What's wrong
with you, honey?

How could you have
forgotten that?

I must be really tired.

I can't put my
finger on it,

but there's something
subversive in her music.

7:00 in the
fucking morning.

Just a minute.

Sorry to bother
you so early.

I'm Vivian Kaplan and this
is my partner, Ted Pollett.

We're volunteer workers with
Friends of the American People.
FAP?

Please, sir, we prefer you use
our organization's full name,

Friends of the
American People.

It gives off
a better vibe.

What can I do
for you?

We'll explain inside.

Make yourselves comfortable,
I'll get some coffee.

Decaf if you've
got it, please.

Me, too.

Caffeine is a drug,
you know.

Same carbon ring
structure as cocaine.

We learned that in my
political biochem course.

We'd like to start with
a few routine questions.

Okay, I guess.

Do you regularly use any illegal
or controlled substances?

Are you the father of any
children out of wedlock,

particularly of a racial
group other than Caucasian?

And lastly, do you
believe in God?

No, no,
and I'm not sure.

Is that it?

That's just for
our database.

What we really need is a
statement regarding someone

you know.

A statement?

Actually, a kind of summary
of his political beliefs.

I don't know what friend
you're talking about.

All my friends
live in Berkeley.

The one who moved to
Los Angeles, Nicholas Brady.

You'll find the instructions
and forms in this kit.

And, needless to say, it's
absolutely inappropriate

to share any of
this with Mr. Brady.

Through various signs and clues,
Nick came to believe that on

some level he might still
be living in ancient Rome,

an early Christian in
the time of martyrdom,

that the true year
was around 70 A.D.,

that the Roman empire
had never ended.

Here was Nick's
strangest vision yet.

He was locked up in a cage,
but it wasn't him, exactly.

He was some kind
of small, mammal

and Richard F. Fremont
was our Nero.

A blood thirsty
dragon took off

and began to descend
towards him.

I didn't need to see a weird
reptile rip my friend apart

to know he was
in danger.

I would try to make
friends with the enemy

and disarm them with
the truth.

I've been working late.

You want to join me
in a glass of wine?

It's Alexander
Valley Vineyards.

It's new, but it's
really good.

Maybe just a taste.

Do you usually work
by candlelight?

Do you usually
dress like that?

You know I was wondering why
you invited me over here.

Friends of the American People
doesn't encourage its cadres

to socialize with
their clients.

You know, I need help
with the statement.

I'm not sure what to put
down, what to leave out.

Don't leave
anything out.

I think it's because
I know so much about Nick

that I'm having trouble.

You can do it.

You're
a professional writer.

Yeah, but I write
science fiction.

I'm used to
making stuff up.

Well, you can't make up anything
on these reports, Phil.

They're sworn statements.

Nick talks to God.
What?

Or God talks to Nick, depending
on how you want to look at it.

You're sure he's
not just crazy?

You should be
writing this down.

I'm going to reveal some of
the things God told him.

Who cares?

I can't report
stuff like that.

Some of it might be useful
to the government.

You got me over
here for this?

There's nothing we can do
about a religious thing.

Maybe, it's not the only
reason I invited you over.

There must be something else
about Brady that could offset

all this weird
stuff about God.

How can you
offset God?

He's all-knowing
and all-powerful.

I mean in terms
of political views.

Want more wine?

I'd rather
smoke grass.

Sorry, I don't
have any.

I do.

It's really
killer stuff.

I don't want drugs
in my house.

Grass doesn't count.

Really?

You afraid
I'm setting you up?

It's much more dangerous
for me than you.

FAPers are the straightest
kids on the planet.

That's why I was glad
when you called.

I knew you'd be
cool to smoke with.

Oh, yeah, why's that?

Everyone knows you're
a big pothead.

It's in the files.

Now, are we gonna
have sex or what?

Grass gets
me super horny.

So what do you do when
you're not working for FAP?

You can't do that kind of
work full-time, can you?

I'm in school.

Where at? UCLA?

Cal State?

Fairfax.

Fairfax as in
Fairfax High?

Yeah, I'm a senior.

How old are you?

17.

Jesus Christ!

Don't be such
a worrywart.

Get your stuff, you've
got to get out of here.

No one even
knows I'm here.

Except Ted, of course.

Who the hell is Ted?

The boy I came here
with this morning.

He's my partner.

We're sort of engaged.

I told him I'd call when I got
home so he'd know I'm all right.

You're not going tell
him we had sex are you?

Look, just file your
statement on time.

That's all
he cares about.

He's the most gung-ho
FAPer in the district.

I just enjoy meeting people
we're assigned to cover.

So that's
how FAP does it.

Compromise someone with an
underage girl who doesn't

look it, then turn
them into a snitch.

We just want you to
keep an eye on Brady.

I won't do it.

We have a lot of information
on you, too, Phil.

I want to see your
driver's license.

Wait a minute, wait,
wait a minute...

You're not 17,
you're 23.

I'll be seeing
you soon, Phil.

Not if I can help it.

Oh, by the way, I hid
a small stash of coke.

You'll never find it.

Not even if you tear
the whole place apart.

Have fun!

I made an appointment
for you with the dentist.

God, I can't believe you still
have your wisdom teeth.

I can't believe how
much they hurt.

Well, he phoned in the
prescription for a pain killer.

The drugstore's delivering it
about an hour or so.

See ya.

Bye.

Mr. Brady?

Hey.

Hi.

What do I owe you?

10.42, please.

15.
Thank you.

What's that?

What's what?

Your, uh... necklace.

Oh, the fish sign.

It's a symbol used by
the early Christians.

The Greek word for
fish is ichthys.

In Greek, the letters
are an acronym for

"Jesus Christ
God's Son Savior."

In the time of the Roman empire,
a time of persecution,

they needed some way to
safely identify each other

and their
meeting places.

For many years we
have watched them.

Their terrible deeds
are known to us.

Soon, they shall
be judged,

and you will be an
instrument of that justice.

Have no fear,
Nicholas Brady.

You are a child of
the starry heavens.

Well, you're going to be
just fine, Mr. Brady.

We have you on a strong
antibiotic drip.

And you'll be able to get out
of here in a couple of hours.

I saw great,
fiery pinwheels.

I felt like I was
going crazy.

I'm not surprised.

You've had a build-up
of toxins due

to that infected
wisdom tooth of yours.

But don't worry, you're
going to be just fine now.

What a relief.

Those ridiculous religious
ideas and visions.

Imagine!

It was all just an
impacted wisdom tooth.

Honey, I don't
want to argue.

Maybe I do have an
infected tooth...

Maybe?

The doctor said that
was the reason why--
All right.

Yes, I have an
infected tooth.

And maybe I have toxins
in my bloodstream

and maybe they caused the
blackout and hallucinations,

but that doesn't explain the
hallucinations themselves,

does it?

Hallucinations don't
need an explanation.

They're not supposed
to make sense.

But mine do.

Mysteries have been
revealed to me.

Like the Kennedy
assassination.

And I suppose VALIS told you
who was behind the conspiracy.

The message could have come from
a parallel world where Portugal

rather than England
colonized America.

It sounds to me like whoever was
delivering the information must

have been pretty
low-level.

He might have been
in a trance state.

That would explain why he
didn't know his own name.

But why transmit
from a parallel world?

Maybe it's too dangerous
to contact you directly.

So you they transmit from
an alternate reality where

President Fremont hasn't
even been elected?

Sounds to me like a world
where he was never born.

Think about it.

If there had been any
Protestant Reformation,

the world might have divided up
between Portugal and Spain,

the major
Catholic powers.

It's odd thinking that science
in a more religious world

would be
further advanced.

But it makes sense.

They never fought the terrible
sectarian wars that set

civilization back
five hundred years.

Actually, a pretty interesting
premise for a novel.

Oh, hey, look, no, you gotta
promise me you won't write

about any
of this, man.

Not even fictionalized.

Don't be paranoid.

I've already told FAP
you talk to God.

They couldn't
care less.

God's not on their
list of subversives.

Not yet.

I'm sure they're
looking into Him.

There's a woman
here to see you.

She doesn't have an appointment
and won't say what she wants.

Should I say
you're unavailable?

No, it's fine.

Send her in.

Hi, I am sorry to
barge in on you.

My name is
Sylvia Sadassa.

Hi.
Hi.

You're a singer-songwriter,
aren't you?

What gave
you that idea?

No.

I'm here to apply
for a job.

Sorry, I-- I don't
do the hiring.

Do you mind if I sit
down for a second?

Just getting
over an illness.

Are you okay?
Oh, yeah.

I'm sorry, yeah, no,
I'm fine, thank you.

Sorry.

What kind of guitar
do you have?

A Gibson.

But I don't play professionally,
though, why do you ask?

I just assumed that anyone
with a passion for the music

business must be
somewhat musical.

Do you write songs?

Just poetry.

But I do great
secretarial work.

I take shorthand and
I type 70 words per minute.

I'll make sure
personnel sees you.

But we get hundreds of
applications every month.

If you get any kind of job
here, it'll be a miracle.

I guess this proves VALIS
isn't infallible, huh?

You can't give a recording
contract to a secretary,

can you?

It's amazing how much
of the dream was true.

Maybe she just needs
a little encouragement.

Don't we all?

Here's the weirdest part.

I looked at her resume.

She's divorced, but still uses
her ex-husband's last name.

But you'll never guess
her maiden name is.

What's that?

Aramchek.

Sylvia Aramchek.

Could be a coincidence.

She even grew up
in Placentia,

it's the same town
as the President.

It's just a funny
coincidence.

I used to get asked about
my name all the time.

Actually, I have a small
confession that I want to make.

What's that?

"Sadassa" isn't my real name,
I've never been married.

But President Fremont made
it impossible for me to live

with the name
"Aramchek."

You can understand
that, right?

One night a friend and I found
the name "Aramchek" written in

the cement right behind the
house where Fremont was born.

Yeah, I know, my grandfather did
that when he was a teenager.

So why Progressive Records,
why'd you come to us?

Well, you have
got good artists.

It just seemed more exciting
than working for a lawyer

or an oil company.

I want to sign you to
a recording contract.

You've got to be
kidding me.

Doing what?

Singing.

You have a gorgeous
soprano voice.

I've heard it.

You have?

Where?

Something to drink?

Glass of wine?

I wish I could.

Just a lemonade, thanks.

Club soda,
please, thanks.

You don't drink?

Not anymore, no.

It affects my eyesight.

When I was sick I would
sometimes go totally blind,

so I'd be bumping
into walls.

If you don't mind my asking,
what was wrong with you?

Cancer.

Lymphoma.

The doctor said it's
unknown for anyone to have

it enter their
brain to survive.

He says if I live another year,
he'll have me written up.

Do the doctors know why
it went into remission?

Well, they never know.

But I think
it was prayer.

Because when I was going
blind and I couldn't hear,

I was having seizures from
the medication.

I used to think it
was God healing me.

You're an
extraordinary person.

Medically, maybe.

Otherwise all I can do is
type and take dictation.

In Nick's vision
that night,

he was shown row after
row of fish tanks.

He was viewing all of this
from the vantage point

of a superior life form,

perhaps from the viewpoint
of VALIS itself.

Each of the fish tanks
was an alternate earth

in an alternate universe,
swarming with life.

Here was a good
universe he realized,

filled with happy creatures
living in harmony and beauty.

But there were also
other kinds of worlds,

murky and frightening.

He suddenly realized that he
was now looking at how VALIS

saw our own reality.

One of the worst.

He was a small crab living at
the bottom, slyly concealed

behind a boulder,
alone and frightened,

afraid to venture forth,
until he saw its glow.

Daddy! Daddy!

What's up, buddy?

I'm thirsty, Daddy.

Here you go.

I'm not hungry.

It's a game, just try
and have a bite.

Your secret name
is Paul.

Can you remember
that name? Paul.

Such a good boy.

To them, Earth is
like an unlit button

on the intergalactic
switchboard.

It's out of contact,
it's lost in the dark.

And now it's like
an emergency 9-1-1

call has finally
gotten through.

But gotten
through to who?

Aliens or God?

That's a tough
question.

Maybe the
answer is both.

Maybe the God of
the Old Testament,

the God who spoke to
Abraham and Moses.

Maybe he was
an alien.

You're kidding around, but an
advanced life form would seem

like God to an ancient
tribe of nomads.

Nomads wandering
in the desert,

because the transmissions
are clearer.

I think VALIS has always been
there, ready to help mankind,

inspiring all
the great prophets,

Moses, Confucius,
Buddha, Jesus.

Maybe even some of the
poets like William Blake.

And now you?

The next avatar?

The second coming?

Behold the mother
of Sylvia Sadassa.

Her mother's name
is Aramchek.

Whose mother?

Sylvia Sadassa.

A woman we just
hired at work.

In my vision, she was signing
up young Richard Fremont

for something, but
signing him up for what?

She used a red
fountain pen.

Red.

Subversive.

Signed up.

Okay, okay,
I get it.

It's clear, economical,
direct.

It's like
a political cartoon.
What is?

The scene I witnessed, it
symbolizes something that

happened to Richard Fremont
in his late teens.

The Fremonts and the Aramcheks
lived on the same block, right?

Mrs. Aramchek was an organizer
for the Communist Party.

She must have
recruited him back then.

But Fremont's not
a communist.

He's a fascist.

We get hung up
on names and labels,

they don't
mean anything.

The communists really are all
fascists and Fremont the fascist

is the first communist president
of the United States.

It makes perfect
sense to me.

This is too farfetched.

Richard Fremont, America's
most famous red-baiter,

a secret communist?

Yes!

I'm sure he started out as
just another youthful idealist.

But little Dickie turned
out to be exactly what

Mrs. Aramchek
was looking for,

a sleeper agent who
could someday rise

to high political
office.

Why would the Soviets and
America's right-wing both

back the same man?
It doesn't make sense.

And by the way, we won
the Cold War, didn't we?

Yeah, that's what Fremont and
the Russian puppet regime

want us to think.

But what's the difference
between the right-wing cops

in the United States,

and the left-wing
cops in Russia?

The KGB, the CIA, FAP, they're
all just different aspects

of the same security
state apparatus.

Why reveal this kind of
top-secret information to you?

Somehow I must be in the right
position to do something

with the information.

I gotta admit, it would be
pretty fucking fascinating

if it's true.

The assassination of JFK and
both his brothers, supposedly

by disaffected loners,
was to get Fremont elected.

It was the only way.

And to make sure he stays in
power, Fremont's rich cronies

went around and bought control
of all the biggest voting

machine manufacturers.

No wonder a guy almost no
one likes continues to win

the Presidency by the largest
margins in history.

How's it going?

Great.

Thank you again for
helping me get this job.

I had a feeling you
belonged here.

It's funny you
should say that.

I had a dream about this
record company last night.

I was at a recording session
and I remember thinking how

wonderful
the singer was.

And when I picked up the album
cover, I realized it was me.

I'm interested
in dreams.

Have you had any other
strange ones lately?

The truth is I came
here because of a dream.

I was in this beautiful green
valley and I was walking toward

this mountain and it
turns into a building.

It had a plaque
on the entrance

way and it said
PROGRESSIVE on it.

And I could hear this incredibly
sweet music coming from inside.

I was worried that
you wouldn't show up.

Mr. Brady, your
wife just phoned.

She says its urgent you
get a copy of the Times

and look at page three.

According to the official
Russian news agency,

a respected Moscow
astrophysicist has reported

the discovery of unexplained
radio signals from what

he believes may be an
extraterrestrial source.

Professor Georgi Moyashki
has detected short,

information-rich signals
as the source passes over

Earth's night side.

The U.S. Space Agency
has already gone on record

stating that the signals
most likely originate

from an abandoned and
forgotten earth satellite.

Russian authorities have
announced plans to deploy

a space probe to photograph
the mysterious transmitter.

Meanwhile, earlier
today on the I-5--

Intense high-frequency bursts;
always at night.

Don't you receive your images,
your voices, at 3:00 a.m.?

It fits!

You're not crazy.

I never thought I was.

You and Phil were
talking that it could be

a satellite
orbiting Earth.

Right?

I remember you
saying that.

That was months ago.

You know how I am
with theories.

Like planes landing at LAX,
a new one every few minutes.

Our latest theory is that the
messages come from a parallel

universe.
Who cares about
your theories?

This is real.

♪ Every day
the satellite ♪

♪ Seems to be the door
at someone's reach ♪

For years, Nick
had placed his faith

in the instructions
of VALIS.

Moving to LA, going to work
for Progressive Records.

He thought of VALIS
as all-knowing,

a manifestation
of God's will.

If VALIS was just a satellite,
it reduced something limitless

to a finite reality,
a mere machine.

♪ Every day
the satellite... ♪♪

Breathe deeply.

Did you think we
would forsake you?

Is your belief
so weak?

Where am I?

A place above the stars.

This is where you
were truly born.

I come from
above the stars?

Many times.

Only now are you remembering
who you really are.

Who am I?

Everyone.

And all things.

You asked to be broken
down and healed.

This is that breaking
down and healing.

Soon you shall be
with us for all time.

I'm not going to die?
I won't cease to exist?

No one truly dies
and nothing is ever lost.

There is nowhere
for anything to go.

There is only here
and now, for all time.

Now that you have remembered,
there can be no forgetting.

Nick.

You are a lucky man.

I don't feel so lucky.

I've got the world's worst
headache in the world.

I'm not surprised,
you've been through a lot.

Let's take a look.

The steering wheel did
most of the damage.

I'm afraid you're going
to be with us for a while.

This kind of trauma...

What the--?

Is something wrong?

Just a minute.

Wow, your skin's hot.

Is this tender?

No.

Look, I'm glad you're all
right, but how is it possible?

The satellite
healed me.

There's something else
I've got to tell you.

The new secretary
at work, Sylvia.

She's part of
all this, too.

Are you sure you
can trust her?

I don't know,
I think so.

I'm still just
finding my way here.

There's no real chance of
overthrowing Fremont, is there?

Probably not.

But it's still
worth trying.

Yeah.

And what if it
ruins our lives?

And our son's life?

My friendship with Phil,
writer of pulp science fiction

stories is a false lead.

The authorities are looking for
something subversive to show up

in his books.

But the fact is we have a
better chance to get a message

out in a song.

If we're caught they'll
put us in prison or kill us,

so I'm making this videotape
for you, Ezra,

so that one day, you'll
know the truth....

Mr. Brady.

Is something wrong?

I know about
your mother.

What do you mean? What are
you doing here so late?

I know she was a recruiter for
the Communist Party and I know

she signed up
Richard Fremont.

I heard about your
car crash.

Are you all right?

You're talking
crazy right now.

Fremont and the Party think
their secret is safe.

But as a little girl, you must
have overheard conversations.

You're the only person
outside the highest ranks

of the Party who knows.

That's why the government
tried to kill you with cancer,

isn't it?
Why on earth would the
government want to harm me?

I'm nobody.

We're supposed to
work together.

Fremont's secret will go
out as a song in the form

of a subliminal message.

I'll make sure that it saturates
the airwaves before the

authorities get wise--
Listen to me.

My mother has been a
down-to-earth Republican

all her life.

She's just an ordinary woman
saddled with the name

"Aramchek."

The police have investigated her
over and over because of it

and it's lunatic stuff like
this that gets innocent people

into trouble.

Your friend
Silvia called.

What did she say?

She's at
the La Paz Bar.

She wants you to
meet her there.

I'm sorry if what I said before
offended you, I didn't--

No, it's okay.

I had now idea how
I was supposed to react.

I think
I'm being watched.

I've received a new transmission
since I last saw you

and I'm to initiate you further
into the organization by--

Org--

Organization?

Aramchek.

Aramchek really exists?

Sure.

Why would Fremont waste
his time trying to stamp out

an imaginary group?

So what I said about
your mother is true?

Basically, yeah.

So what is Aramchek?

It's the people contacted by
the satellite, which in turn

receives instructions from a
star system called Albemuth.

Life on this planet came
from there originally.

So whenever we fall into
overwhelming difficulties,

the satellite serves as our
link back to Albemuth.

I think I intuited
most of this already.

Yeah, Aramchek includes
hundreds, maybe thousands

of people, mostly here and in
the former Soviet Union.

We're each contacted
individually, so only

the satellite knows
who, and how many,

where and exactly what
we're supposed to do.

Last call.

What would you like?

Something strong.

But I guess I'll
settle for club soda.

Make that two.

Thanks.

VALIS has done it before,
in the time of Jesus

and the early
Christians.

It didn't quite
work out then.

I always thought I made up
that word, VALIS.

That word was
placed in your mind.

VALIS is how we all refer to it
while we assimilate the shock.
Shock?

Yeah, the shock of discovering
your mind is being invaded by

an alien life form.

It conjures up horrible images
of Martian insects knocking

over the Golden
Gate Bridge.

But this invasion is
for our benefit, Nick.

You and I and the others
were chosen by VALIS.

Will they leave after
Fremont is destroyed?

If we manage
to destroy him.

They're our
protectors, Nick.

They only come when
we need them.

I had to see
her for myself.

Has he shown you
pictures of our son?

I'm so sorry about
this, Mrs. Brady.

You're going home.

Come on.

I need you to go home.

I'll explain everything to you
later, but you have to trust me.

What are you doing to us?
I thought we were happy.

It's not what
you think.

I don't know,
maybe it's worse.

Are you in love with her?

Rachel, you are the only
woman I've ever loved.

The only woman
I'm ever going to love.

Then what are
you doing?

You have to trust me.

She doesn't understand.

Did you really
expect her to?

Do you expect anyone
to understand this?

I hoped she would.

My crazy friend Phil
understands, sort of.

Maybe you
should go home.

No, this is more
important.

Are you sure?

No, I'm not sure.

But I can't let my son grow up
a world like this if I can do

something about it.

Come here.

The satellite's been up there
for thousands of years.

What the ancient
Hebrews were to Egypt

and the early Christians
were to Rome,

we are now to this corrupt
new American empire.

It's an ancient
fight, Nick.

The values of the individual
against the supremacy

of the state.

That's why the confession
kits, that's why

the growing
police supervision.

Over half the organization has
been discovered and eliminated.

Aren't you afraid?

I would be if it weren't
for Fire Bright.

That's how I refer to the
plasmatic entity within me.

It's like a little egg of
silver, cold, pale fire,

glowing with life
just right up here.

It's strange to have him inside
us, alive, yet unnoticed.

When we're killed
does he die, too?

When the body is
destroyed, he leaves.

But they won't
desert us.

So just as you and I have
housed and sheltered them,

they'll take us along with
them into eternity.

As a reward
for succeeding?

No, what they value
is the attempt.

Not the achievement
or the ultimate result.

They judge us by our intention,
by our hearts.

This just
in from Moscow.

Russian authorities report that
an accidental explosion aboard

the intercept missile launched
to photograph an allegedly

extra-terrestrial satellite
has destroyed both

the satellite
and the missile.

The cause of the
blast is unknown.

And now,
turning to.....

Must be a lot of partying
tonight in the Kremlin

and the White House.

Well, I'm glad.

At least it's over
and done with.

It's not over.

And it's not
done with.

With great pleasure I now
authorize Project Coliseum.

Our toughest laws yet in
the fight against terror

and subversion.

Did you see
the news last night?

Yeah, well, when
you attack a tyranny,

you've got to expect
it to fight back.

We knew once they
pinpointed the location

that they would
destroy it.

Can another
satellite be sent?

There's one already on
the way from Albemuth.

But even traveling
at the speed of light,

it won't arrive for
hundreds of years.

That's not going
to do us any good.

It's hopeless.

It's not, I've written
down the material.

What material?
The lyrics.

Use it on an album you
expect to sell really well.

What's the message
supposed to be?

Take a look, it reads
like nothing at all.

It's completely
innocuous.

Do you know what
it really means?

Well, I heard the final
recorded version in a dream

and it goes something like,
"Come to the party."

And it sounds like
just a fun party song.

Then later the vocal line
goes, "Join the party."

And the singer then goes,
"Everybody join the party."

And a subtrack goes,
"Is everybody at the party?

Is everybody present
at the party?"

Only if you
listen closely,

you can hear they're
actually singing,

"Is everybody's
president at the party?"

No, okay, I get it.

It's like the-- the Beatles,
the "I Am the Walrus,"

"Smoke dope, smoke dope,
everybody smoke dope"

in the backup track.
Right.

And enough repeated listenings,
and the word gets through,

the message
gets through.

I mean, is that all
there is to it?

What a grand chick.

What?

"What a grand chick,"
that's part of the chorus.

Only the backup vocals change
from "what a grand chick"

to "Aramcheck."

The Fisher Kings are in
the studio this afternoon.

They'd be perfect
for it.
Great.

Why don't you go on ahead?
The less we're seen

together right
now the better.

♪ Welcome join
the party ♪

♪ You can see that
everybody's present ♪

♪ Even you could be the
next contestant ♪

♪ Wait for love ♪

♪ Wait for love ♪♪

I fucking hate
this song.

Dude, relax, "Let's Party"
is gonna go out as a single.

If it doesn't sell, it's not
gonna be on the album.

Well, it doesn't sound like
any of our other material.

I know.

Your contract gives us
the right to pick material.

We've never done it before,
we're probably not gonna do

it again.

Let's just get this thing laid
down and get out of here, okay?

It's almost midnight.

A young lady to see
you, Mr. Brady.

Um, send her in.

Hello.

I'm Vivian Kaplan from
Friends of the American People.

How can I help you?

We understand you have an
employee here by the name

of Sylvia Aramchek.

As I'm sure you know, there's
also a subversive organization

calling itself Aramchek.

Would you like to make
a voluntary statement

concerning this
coincidence?

The only thing I know about
Aramchek is that it's Sylvia

Sadassa's maiden name.

How did you happen
to hire Ms. Aramchek?

She came here
looking for a job.

I felt sorry for her because
of her recent bout with cancer.

I'm sorry, I'm very busy.

Do I have to answer these
questions right now?

What's this new song you're
releasing by the Fisher Kings?

"Let's Party."

Everybody at Progressive
is talking about it.

We think it's going
to be a surefire hit.

We'd like a copy
to review.

It's not even
mastered yet.

A demo tape
would be fine.

You could probably
get a demo sooner.

It's our opinion,
Mr. Brady,

that you're having a sexual
affair with Ms. Aramchek.

Whether I am or not
my personal business.

Would you be willing to write
a statement concerning

the political loyalty
of Ms. Aramchek?

I'm sorry, but mutual spying
by friend upon friend is

destroying the fabric
of our society.

You can write that
down in your little book

and put it in my file.

When can we have
the demo tape?

Sometime next week.

And it will be the
same as the master?

Yeah, more or less.

You know, "more or less"
really isn't good enough,

Mr. Brady.

Are you going
somewhere?

I'm leaving.

I want you to talk to our
lawyer in the morning.

Are you asking
for a divorce?

I think the house
is bugged.

These are our
financial papers.

I've signed over everything,
the house, the bank accounts,

to you.

It's Sylvia, isn't it?

It's not Sylvia, it's what
we're trying to do together.

It could be dangerous, I don't
want it to affect you and Ezra.

How could-- how could
anything you do not affect us?

We love you.

Remember that.

I will, too.

"Let's Party" is our
hottest upcoming release

and they know we've got a lot
of time and effort invested

into it, stands to reason
that they're suspicious.

But what if
it's a trap?

What if they just want
us to produce this thing

as some hard evidence?
If they really knew

what we were up to, they
would just arrest us.

I think we need
to move forward.

Even if there's no chance of us
getting away when we get caught?

This project has been
building for years, Nick.

VALIS may no longer be here to
protect us, but within each of

us, there's a new life
that's eternal.

Well, I'll give
that little FAP bitch

a copy of the demo
tape for now

and then when we press the
record, I'll make some copies

made from a master minus
the subliminal material.

That way,
if they break in,

whatever they get will
match their tape

and then we'll start
shipping the real thing.

Wish me luck.

I have an appointment with my
doctor this afternoon to see

if I'm still
in remission.

Let me get
this straight.

A million people think they're
just listening to a dumb rock

song, but what they're
actually hearing is,

"Fremont's a red,
Fremont's a red,

better a dead
Fremont than a red."

Something like that?

Basically, yes.

And when it sinks in,
an outraged citizenry marches

to the White House en masse and
overthrows the government.

Is that the sequence
of events?

It has to be done.

Listen to me, it's not
too late for you.

Go back to Berkeley.

Put some distance between
yourself and this mess.

What the hell.

If I'm going down, I'm going
down with people I love.

Press a million
copies of the record.

Here's to subversion.

Here's to Aramchek.

To subversion.

You know what this
probably means, right?

Yeah.

That somebody else is going
to have to write the great

American science
fiction novel.

♪ Want fun? ♪

♪ I know that
you need some ♪

♪ You don't need
a reason ♪

♪ Let down your load ♪

♪ Wasted ♪

♪ But kept
in God's graces ♪

♪ You almost can
taste it ♪

♪ Devour the moon ♪

♪ Everybody let's party ♪

♪ Don't you know
a grand chick saved me ♪

♪ She helped me
to put back ♪

♪ Together my whole world ♪

♪ Welcome join
the party... ♪♪

You need to start
getting out more.

Only if I can meet the redhead
from the show "Dallas."

Well, I'm not speeding.

What do you
think I did?

Shit.

Get out of the car!

Okay, okay, okay, okay.

Whoa, whoa, whoa.
Whoa!

Easy!

Hey, hey.
Easy.

Ow!

What the fuck?

All right, all right,
all right, all right!

I'll be straight
with you guys.

We planted a recording
device to monitor

your conversation
at the club.

Orders have been given
for Progressive Records

to be closed and all
its assets seized.

How insane.

A subliminal message that our
President is himself a secret

subversive agent?

I have nothing
to say.

I want an attorney.

Take him out
and shoot him.

He might be able to
tell us something more.

Nothing we don't
already know.

Bring him back.

I'll tell you
everything he told me.

I'm sorry, the satellite's
already infected him.

But the satellite's
gone now.

An egg has been
laid in his head.

An alien egg.

Where are you
taking me?

We always kill them before
they have a chance to hatch.

This one, too?

Give me a few
moments with him.

We intend to let you
go on living, Phil.

We'll even publish
books under your name.

I'm an American
citizen!

I have rights!

In fact, they
already exist.

We've been having them written
for several years now.

Your style's
easy to imitate.

I'd rather you
just shoot me.

The novels will be
published anyway.

Book by book, you'll evolve
to more conservative views.

Since you're getting older,
it won't be unexpected

for you to mellow out.

Let me talk to Nick
before you kill him.

Will you cooperate with the
publication of your new books?

Interviews? Signings?

Sci-fi conventions?

Hold up on Brady.

Take him to
a cell for now.

Code Five on Brady.

Was that a mistake?

No, that's okay.

Thanks, anyway.

I'm sorry, Phil.

It's too late.

It's police policy not
to delay eliminating

alien-controlled
subversives.

Open the bag.
Number two.

So you can see
for yourself.

Whiskey? Single malt.

I assume you stopped
the song from getting out.

We shut down the record company
before they'd duped the master.

We got all the subliminal
tracks, too.

"Join the Party!"

No, it's "Let's Party."

They sing "join
the party" later on.

"A grand chick saved me, put
back together my whole world."

And the background turns into
"Aramchek saves the world."

A bit unsubtle,
don't you think?

It might have worked.

Oh, sure.

"Is everybody
president at the party?"

We use subliminal techniques
too, but not so crudely.

And for different ends.

Want to see
your new book?

No thanks.

It's called
"The Mind-Screwers."

You should give
it a try.

It's about an invasion of
hideous space worms who work

their way into people's heads
and rape their minds.

Real subtle.

I just came to tell you,
I'm sorry you didn't get to

talk to Nick Brady
before he died.

If you want, you can
talk to the Aramchek woman

he was conspiring with.

Do you know her?

No, I never got
to meet her.

Are you going
to shoot her, too?

You're Phil.

Nick's friend, right?

The science-fiction writer.

Is he okay?

No, he isn't.

They shot him.

I see.

And you're sure
it's true.

They showed
me his body.

I suppose I'm next.

No trial,
no investigation.

They're really
afraid of us.

That's right.

I don't think
they'll kill you.

They said they want
you to write crappy novels

for them full of
pro-government propaganda.

The books are
already written.

It'll just be my
name on them.

That's good.

It means they
don't trust you.

It's when they trust
you that it's bad.

It's the next worst thing
to being on their side.

I'm sorry for all this.

For what Nick
got you into.

It's okay.

We're immortal.

VALIS conferred that on us, and
it will on everyone, someday.

I don't feel
too bad, though.

I feel like we put
up a good fight.

Time's up.

Don't tell them how
lousy their novels are.

Let them find out
the hard way.

So that's how
it all came down.

My friend Nicholas Brady
had tried

to save the
world and failed.

And I found myself
in this place.

The dark night
of the soul.

Alone and forgotten.

Scribbling furtively
on scraps of paper

that no one would ever
get a chance to read.

So you used to
be a writer?

Yeah.

In a way, I still am.

Were you a member
of Aramchek?

No.

Know anything
about it?

Some friends
of mine belonged.

Dead?

Yeah.

So, what's
Aramchek teach?

Are they really diehard
communists?

No.

They think we shouldn't put
our faith in any human rulers.

That there's a vast intelligence
above the stars, that guides us,

that's interested
in our welfare.

That sounds like
a religious idea.

I always thought Aramchek was
a revolutionary organization.

It's both.

A subversive organization guided
by a supreme higher power.

They think our loyalty
should be to the values

of that higher
entity alone.

You believe that, too?

I didn't at first.

But now, maybe.

So this, supreme being,
does it tell

the Aramchek
people what to do?

They called it VALIS.

It spoke to them
in visions.

And will again, someday,
I believe that.

You're a strange guy.

You ever hear
its voice?

No.

But I wish I had.

I've still got my printing
supplies hidden away.

I might be able to
run off some literature

for you and your
Aramchek friends.

You interested?

Yeah, very much.

First, I've got to get back
to my friend's wife and son,

make sure they're okay.

You think Aramchek
would take me?

I need help, I can't
get anywhere alone.

Sure.

Maybe they
have already.

I've never heard
any voices.

Your own voice
might be the voice.

How about that?

Nobody's ever said
that to me before.

You think believing
about a heavenly power

get them anywhere?

Not in this world.

I've got to tell you something
you maybe don't want to hear.

I know you loved your friends
and maybe they are happy spirits

somewhere up in the sky,

but even if they are,
that's not good enough.

They gave their lives
for that belief.

What I'm saying is, it's got
to be something here first.

This is where the suffering is,
this is where the injustice is.

This Valis or God or whatever
you want to call it,

has to do something
for us here.

Or what the
fuck good is it?

What's this I heard about
the Aramchek people having

a beautiful silver egg placed
in each of their foreheads?

That's what
they believe.

My theory is it enters along the
optic nerve to the pineal gland

by means of radiation beamed
down by the satellite.

The egg hatches when they die
and incorporates them into

the vast living entity
in the stratosphere.

I got a confession
to make.

I know a little more about
Aramchek than I admitted.

I used to be a preacher.

The beautiful silver egg
that guarantees immortality,

that's in
the Bible, Phil.

Jesus speaks about
it several times.

The real meaning was known
only to his disciples.

But now it's
coming back.

Tell me more,
preacher.

I'm not
a preacher anymore.

Religion is shit.

It's more honest work
being a plumber.

You believe what my friend said
is true and yet you still--

I still say the work has
to be done here on earth.

Let me ask you this--
where did Jesus do his work?

Where did he teach?

Hey, boss.

Can we take five?
It's hot out here.

Look at those kids
watching us.

♪ Want fun? ♪

♪ I know you
need some... ♪

That's it.

That's the song!

What?

That's the song!

Hey, it's cool,
he's not going anywhere.

I'll keep an
eye on him.

♪ Wasted ♪

♪ But kept in
God's graces ♪

They must have gotten another
record company to press it--

while Progressive was preparing
its version, other members of

Aramchek must have been
working on the song, too.

They made it.

It's out.

Do you know
what this means?

I never listen to that
rock and roll junk.

I used to have
a big record collection,

mostly classical
and jazz.

As far as I'm concerned, that
music's just for the kids.

Yeah.

That's right,
for the kids.

The music's for them.

I guess it's gonna
be up to them now.

While we waited to finish our
sentences, I continued to work

on Nick's story, which turned
out to be my story, too.

I wanted to chronicle the
origins of that faint flicker

of hope that would someday
burn out a cancerous regime,

the humble beginnings of a mass
movement of young people that

would eventually change
our country for the better.

Even if they found my
manuscript and destroyed it,

I would still have been the
first to bear witness.

I had faith that
I would not be the last.

♪ We have no wings ♪

♪ We are not angels ♪

♪ Just flesh and blood ♪

♪ In skin and in bone ♪

♪ Born from the ruin ♪

♪ Like other mammals ♪

♪ Over the earth ♪

♪ We swarm and we roam ♪

♪ We walk around ♪

♪ We don't know why ♪

♪ Above the ground ♪

♪ Beneath the sky ♪

♪ And I declare
that we are free ♪

♪ And we are equal
in our liberty ♪

♪ And I declare
that we are free ♪

♪ And we are equal
in our destiny ♪

♪ We are not slaves ♪

♪ Not to be tortured ♪

♪ To be abused ♪

♪ By the hand
with the gun ♪

♪ We're all born free ♪

♪ We're all born equal ♪

♪ All though the night ♪

♪ And out in the sun ♪

♪ When we arrive ♪

♪ Until we die ♪

♪ We are alive
beneath the sky ♪

♪ And I declare that
we are free ♪

♪ And we are equal
in our dignity ♪

♪ I declare that
we are free ♪

♪ And we are equal
in our destiny ♪

♪ To be ♪

♪ To be ♪

♪ Human ♪

♪ To be ♪

♪ To be ♪

♪ Human ♪