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Oh... sorry...

Pardon

- Bonjour.
- Bonjour

- Maggie?
- Bernard?

Je m'excuse...

Are you... all right?

Yes. Just give me a second.

Is it my fault?

I'm sorry?

I missed you...

The other entrance.

The other entrance? Oh, of
course.

No, no, totally my fault.

Did you get spun around?

I... no, not spun... I found
the place all right.

It was just... a bit of a...

a bit of a communication
problem...

...internally, I mean.

Well, so you're English.

- And so are you!
- And so I am.

They sent me especially.

Might have had something to do
with my schoolboy French,

when I called.

So will it just be the two of
us?

We do have a team. I'm a bit
junior.

- Just the guy they send out for a first look.
- Right.

So, here we are.

Listen, are you sure it's all right
to take the whole afternoon for this?

Absolutely. It's really the
only way to see it all.

And we're fine to walk, rather
than drive?

I am if you are.

Absolutely.

Brilliant. You can just leave
the car here.

Now, I must warn you, it's
pretty run down.

Well, I guess that makes it
all the more... cinematic.

Sorry.

That might be a problem.

- Sounds like there's an airport nearby?
- Oh. Just a small one, In Rouen.

I'll check the schedules.

Right. So any rivers, streams,
flowing water on the property?

No. But there's a lake, and
two small ponds.

And which way is west?

- Over there.
- Oh.

- So, sunset over there?
- Yup, almost every day.

Yes.

Great. Best during autumn,
so good timing there.

Well, I can definitely see why Monet
painted the cathedral a million times.

Never the same light twice!

That could make things tricky
actually.

I'd love to take a few photos
if...

Please, go ahead.

For some reason my phone doesn't
send pictures over here, so...

Oh, it's just something with the
settings. I had it happen to me. I can...

Right, it works.

- Now please delete that immediately.
- Oh, I don't know!

I think I'll just stick with
this.

Whatever works.

Maybe you could give me the
lowdown?

OK, the basics. Roughly twenty
acres altogether.

Large forest to the south of us,
farmland to the north.

the main building was put up on the
original foundation of a feudal castle,

which had been destroyed during the
Wars of Religion, probably around 1592.

Lots of modifications and
additions since then.

The heritage is the thing,
really.

Best known for one famous
literary guest,

Fontenelle, who wrote his
landmark

"Conversations on the Plurality
of Worlds",

while staying here at
the end of the 17th Century.

Of course Fontenelle isn't
a household name now,

but he's very influential.

He helped popularize the
Copernican model of the universe.

That in fact the sun doesn't
orbit the Earth...

It's the other way round. Yes.

He was probably thinking:

Come on, people... this paradigm
isn't going to shift itself!

Presumably the book was based on
actual events:

A young philosopher... basically
meaning a scientist,

stays at a country ch�teau,

hosted by a bright young
aristocratic woman.

Every evening for five nights,

the two of them go for a walk
in gardens just like these

and have very descriptive and
often quite flirty

conversations on how the cosmos
works.

Fascinating.

No, really it is.

Well, it was a radical idea,
and it took a while

to catch on. Because the
pre-Copernican model,

with all these stars
miraculously

flying round the Earth in only a
day's time, and a bunch of

planets that didn't quite move
quite like the rest of them,

and the odd comet coming
inexplicably out of nowhere...

well, it a bit of a mess. Or,
anyway,

the explanation got so
self-contradictory

because people kept adding
unnecessary complications

just to try and rationalize it.

Sounds like a bad
relationship.

Tell me about it.

You don't actually have to tell
me about it. I was just saying...

agreeing with you.

Right.

I'm sorry if I go on too much
about this stuff.

It's just so funny:

I don't think I'd ever even
heard

of Fontenelle before taking this
job,

and getting to know this
property.

But his stuff clicked with
things

I suppose I'd always been
interested in.

Makes you wonder.

Right.

I mean, what if this very
important book

that was written here was really
boring,

of no interest whatsoever?

What if! We'd probably still
think

we were the centre of the
universe.

Last occupied quite a few years
ago by descendants

of the owners from its halcyon days, who
couldn't afford to keep the place up anymore.

Official policy is that I'm not supposed
to admit this, but it's quite a sad story.

Anyway, the plan was to convert
it all into a spa and golf course.

But that would've meant doing away with
some important historical features.

What with property law here being
about as fusty and arcane as the

outdated model of the universe,
well, permission for that was denied.

- Red tape...
- Oh, yes.

So it's been on the market
again,

but really in a sort of limbo.

Maintenance obviously neglected,
apart

from emergency work to stop some
of the buildings collapsing.

Water's running, but the
heating's bust.

A cleaner and a gardener come
every couple of weeks.

Given the planning issues, how
do you think

the locals would react to a film
production happening here?

Just... gut feeling?

It's an unusual situation.

Temporary occupancy. Hard to
tell.

I see.

Not entirely encouraging.

Maybe not entirely, but...

Well, what can you tell me about
your film?

Not much, I'm afraid.

The director is a bit of an
eccentric.

Brilliant. But cryptic.

He said if I find the right
place, he'll fit the story to it.

Calls it "living off the land".

He's a romantic, I suppose.

One thing I can tell you is that in
this case we only need one location.

Or, one that serves as many.

So that's an advantage,

or maybe a disadvantage.

I was instructed to take my time
and

hold out for a cosmic epiphany,
whatever that means.

Wow.

I swear I'm not being coy.
I really don't know.

- It's actually a bit nerve-wracking.
- I can imagine.

Before we go in, can I ask you
something else?

Yeah.

Is it just me or does this
feel really familiar?

Bonjour. Maggie?

Hi.

- It's my fault.
- I'm sorry?

I must have told you to go to
the other entrance.

Ah.

I hope you didn't get too spun
around.

It's all right.

Well, you're English.

- And so are you!
- And so I am.

What are the odds?

So. Here we are.

Will it just be the two of us?

- I hope that's all right.
- Yes. I... only hate to take up your whole afternoon.

It's really the only way to
see it all.

And we're fine to walk, rather
than drive?

I am if you are.

Absolutely.

Great. Well, why don't I just leave
the car here, and, uh, we'll go.

Now, I must warn you, it's
pretty run down.

Excellent. Nothing but
potential.

- Er, Excuse me a sec.
- Of course.

Everything all right?

Ah, I see. Would you say it's
more of an ennui or a malaise?

It's sort of a je ne sais
quoi.

Ah. But not quite a joie de
vivre, in any case.

Non. Not quite. Not yet.

Sounds like there's an airport
nearby?

In Rouen.

Great. That could be really
convenient.

- And mobile phone coverage is strong, I see.
- Not everywhere. There are definitely some dead zones.

We can certainly help with that. In any case
we'd need to dig up quite a bit to lay our cables.

And we'd need to do a lot in
terms of security.

Maybe more than you'd expect.

Oh.

Our CEO is really paranoid. He's had
several threats made against his life.

These two facts may be related.

Would you mind if I take a few
photos?

By all means.

Great. You can give me the
lowdown as we go.

What's fascinating to me is that Fontenelle is
obviously wrong on some pretty basic stuff,

and yet exactly right,
and way ahead of his time, on many others.

Life on the moon? Uh, sorry.

Although even he said:

don't give more than half
your mind to ideas like this,

and leave the other half open so
that contrary ideas can still fit in.

Now everybody knows that the idea of
life on the moon is silly, don't they?

Yet not everybody knows why, when we look at
the moon, we always see the same side of it.

Because it takes as long to go round
its axis as it does around the Earth.

Guess who was already onto that
in 1686?

It's entirely appropriate they
named a crater after him.

Obviously the bigger deal was the bit
about the Earth going round the sun.

That was radical, and took a
while to catch on.

Because the previous understanding
was so self-contradictory

that people kept adding unnecessary
complications to try and rationalize it.

- Sounds like a bad relationship.
- Tell me about it.

You don't have to actually tell
me about it. I was just saying...

Right.

Ren� Descartes figured that all heavenly
bodies swirled around in the ether,

making little whirlpools that
held everything together.

That was his system, which
Fontenelle adopted.

Well, then Isaac Newton amended Descartes,
not long after Conversations was published.

Fontenelle revised it,
but it didn't line up with the new system.

Not that it's about that.

It's about the possibility, the value,
of reasonable, non-pedantic conversation.

OK, well, then Einstein amended
Newton, and so on.

The idea of the ether hasn't
entirely gone away.

Spacetime, dark matter,

we still need there to be "stuff",
some medium which it all swirls around in.

And we still need someone to
remind us, as Fontenelle put it,

that our common folly is to believe that everything
in creation is destined for our service.

Anyway, last occupied quite a
few years ago,

but the owners couldn't afford to keep the place up
any more. And so eventually our firm acquired it.

Official policy is not to admit as
much, but it's quite a sad story.

Or at least I think it is.

Is it just me or does this feel
really familiar?

I don't know. What's your
yardstick?

What's yours?

I'm not sure there is one.

For me, or you, or anyone.

That seems acceptable.

Shall we?

This is a bit unpleasant, but
wasn't

- there something about a... suicide?
- What?

Someone in the bankrupt family,
after losing the property?

Oh, I don't... You know, I'm
just a bit junior myself.

Just the girl they send out to
show the place.

Thought I read a mention in
somebody's notes.

Well, that would be terrible. But not
beyond the realm of possibility, I suppose.

This place has definitely had
its fair share of casualties.

- Maybe more than its fair share.
- Maybe.

So, Pluralities of Worlds, eh?

Doesn't exactly roll off the
tongue.

Conversations on the Plurality
of Worlds It's very important.

Or at least, that's its English
name.

Quite right. Everything important
starts with a conversation.

So this is, or was, the library.

Yes, it's a hugely important book.
And not his only contribution.

In fact, in my early eager-beaver days I lobbied for
having the whole place turned into a Fontenelle museum.

That idea didn't really catch
on.

But maybe there's a buyer out there who'll
recognize the cultural significance of the place.

- And be able to afford it.
- Yeah, that too.

- What do you think the odds are?
- Mm, maybe slightly lower than the odds of

intelligent extra-terrestrials
elsewhere in the universe.

Right. Pity.

Maybe some aliens will come
along and buy it.

Surely they'd know what they've
got here.

They might not even need
central heating.

That's the spirit.

Well, I seem to like the place
after all.

I'll take it!

Wish I could buy it. Maybe.

I think I'm beginning to feel a
little protective over it.

Isn't that funny?

Having managed the place for quite a while
now, I feel pretty attached to it myself.

Could you help me with...?

Yeah!

So do you know any stars?

I can usually find Orion's
belt.

I meant stars as in famous
people.

No, I...

...not really. Unless you count
That Guy from That Thing,

- and What's Her Name Again.
- Oh, you know them?! I love them!

Know is too strong a word.
But we worked together once or twice.

And what are they like in
person?

Just like everybody else.

About four ninety-five.
How exact do you need it?

That'll do. Thanks. This
way...

Did you ever want to be in films
yourself? Or make them?

No, no. I wouldn't know how.
Don't have the mind for it.

I'm not sure what I do have the
mind for.

Started law school,

but that felt wrong pretty
quickly.

Somehow fell into this film location racket
thinking it would be a good way to travel.

Ah, brilliant.

It is and it isn't. You can never just be
in a place; you always have to pay attention.

Although maybe that's precisely
what my mind is good for:

- the refusal to relax.
- Oh, I don't know.

I think maybe you've got something in
your idea of alien property developers.

Would you believe one of the
deal-breakers with my ex was an argument

about the Fermi paradox?
Do you know what that is?

I've worked on a couple of
sci-fi shows.

- That's something to do with aliens too, right?
- Yeah!

That's all I've got. You'll
have to remind me.

Basically, that yes, indeed, the likelihood of
there being civilized life somewhere else out there

is so high, it's seriously weird not
to have had contact with any by now.

Maybe they're all too busy
scrolling on their space phones

to engage in meaningful personal
communication.

You know, that is one theory,
more or less.

Yeah, we should send them
a big group text, distract them

from what they're doing and make
them feel pressured to reply...

Or, you know, maybe they're just
really bad at reading social cues.

Our whole civilization is like
that now.

Do you think that's a consequence
of technological evolution?

Just as you master spaceflight, you also
become vaguely sociopathic. I like it.

I mean, it's sad and tragic, but
that's precisely its charm.

You see! How hard is it to stretch your brain
once in a while and just, you know, give a toss.

- Oh, I didn't mean to...
- Oh, not you. One.

Well, one in particular.

You know he didn't even really care about the question
of whether we're alone in the universe or not!

How can you not care about that?
Just a little?

And I always felt like I was the only one
who cared about the state of our flat.

I was the one opening curtains, and buying flowers and
turning music on. Otherwise it just wouldn't happen.

So, yeah... that.
And the Fermi paradox.

It's funny how you think you
know what you need from someone,

and then some little thing gives
you a whole new perspective on that.

Or I guess it's not a little
thing. It's a huge thing.

That's the point.

Maybe your director could make a
movie about that.

- Your love life?
- Oh God, no. Boring!

The Plurality. Fontenelle.

Fontenelle. Sounds like a
pudding.

Something with lots of pastry
and cream.

And chocolate! There'd have to
be chocolate.

It should be if it isn't
already.

Fontenelle made it more possible
for women to be scientists.

And for science-fiction, like that show you
worked on, even to be a genre in the first place.

So, yeah, I am pro-Fontenelle.
Quel mec!

So, it's basically all dialogue,
with only two people, right?

Yeah, pretty much.

- Hm, I don't know.
- And not even really a drama, it's more of an essay.

- Not exactly high-stakes conflict.
- No. Although I suppose that is relative.

They talk about things that were
very dangerous ideas back then.

Actually, do you know what it's really like? It's like
one of those super nerdy late-night student chats.

- God, do you remember those?
- I do, yeah. Barely.

- It feels like it's been forever.
- Doesn't it? I miss that.

Yeah, it's like that. With an
element of romance, though.

They definitely flirt. Each of them has a
kind of naivety, each has a kind of wisdom.

They need each other. I swear there's
something going on between them.

OK, so obviously not something
my ex would buy a ticket for.

Although maybe he'd watch it on Netflix for a
nostalgic night of feeling bored and annoyed at me.

- I'll be sure to tell the boss.
- Please do.

- You must promise not to be hurt if he goes in a different direction.
- Offence will not be taken.

So, shall we go and have a look at
the petit ch�teau... the little house?

I thought this was the petit
one. Now I am in a spin.

- I'm just joking.
- Oh.

I'm sure it does feel little when you're
standing in the living room of that one

looking through the
window back at this one.

Yes, let's go look at the little
house.

The relatively little house.

Should you get that?

Why don't I just turn it off?

Are you sure?

...last occupied quite a few
years ago,

but the owners couldn't afford to keep the place up
any more. And so eventually our firm acquired it.

Official policy is not to admit as
much, but it's quite a sad story.

Or at least I think it is.

The plan was to convert it all
into a spa and golf course.

But, property law here being about as arcane and
fusty as the outdated model of the universe,

well, permission for that was
denied.

- Good old red tape.
- Oh, yes.

That's fine. Wouldn't want it
any other way.

And so you're... what are you?

My email signature says
Director of Special Projects.

And at the moment, my special project is finding
just the right spot for a satellite campus.

Hence our afternoon together.

It feels nice to be a part of
something special.

I'm flattered by your interest.
On behalf of my employer, of course.

I'm flattered by your being
flattered, on behalf of mine.

So can I ask, why here?
Why not something in a city?

Well, we've developed plenty of somethings in plenty of
cities but we've been routinely accused of gentrification,

or worse.

So we had a brainstorm, and decided to establish something
somewhere with a pre-existing aristocratic infrastructure,

- whatever that means.
- I see.

Well, the local d�partment will still
find a way to make things hard for you.

- You mustn't underestimate that.
- Of course. We've budgeted for it.

As I said, we wouldn't have it
any other way.

It can't just be about infrastructure, though,
right? Don't you just get a gut feeling sometimes?

Sometimes.

But you probably have an algorithm to
determine the sentimental value of things.

We have plenty of algorithms.

But sometimes their logic can be
a bit fuzzy.

- About the last family that lived here...
- Yeah?

Oh, nothing.

And here's the library.

It's really a shame to see it in
this condition.

Have you ever had a fear of re-reading
books that once meant the world to you?

What would that be called?
Retro-biblio-philia-phobia?

I'm sure a poet somewhere has
come up with a name for it.

I get that fear sometimes.

Like how you can fall in love with someone and be
dazzled by all the beautiful things about them,

and then one day suddenly realize you've
considered them ugly for a long time.

- I don't read many books these days.
- No?

Not for a while. Not since my
abortive attempt at law school.

- In my case it was when someone
said: the universe

doesn't care about me, so why
should I care about it?

- Me as in you?
- No, him. I'm quoting him.

As in, the universe didn't care about
him, so why should he care about it?

But it's a good guess that his
logic applied to me too.

It is a fairly perceptive
question.

I know. I loved him a lot.

It's funny how you think you
know what you need.

You want someone to make you
feel like you're not alone.

So maybe it's worse when you do find
someone and you end up feeling more alone.

I ended up marrying someone
blonde and sunny, which is strange,

because I'd always thought I had a thing
for pensive, unconventional brunettes.

She even agreed with me.

So what do we know about this
woman?

Sorry?

The marquise. This scientist came to her ch�teau,
presumably with several other high society guests,

and what... the two of them just slipped out and
went for country walks in the garden every night?

That's just the book.

Yeah, but he was based on the author,
and she was based on a real person, right?

She was the daughter of a very
distinguished salon hostess.

When he wrote it she was a widow
in her 20s, with a little boy.

I don't know how her husband
died.

- You've really got into this, haven't you?
- For some reason I just couldn't help myself.

There is something about this
place. Isn't there?

We shall consult the
algorithm.

Come on, what is it, you like to just come
up here every now and then and... hang out?

You make it sound unseemly.
It's not like I'm squatting or anything.

Well wouldn't you, if you had
access to a place like this?

It does feel miles away from
everything.

Mm. It does. Nice, isn't it?

I don't know.

I suppose I can understand how some people might
resist the idea of a tech company taking over.

Even an empty country retreat is
still a country retreat.

Maybe it's the emptiness itself
that's most appealing.

What is it that makes someone
cross that threshold?

One minute you're texting right in front
of your friends to see if there's something

better going on somewhere
else without you,

and the next you're swearing off the Internet, maybe
even off the grid entirely, hiding in your bunker.

We have teams working on that
very question.

Teams!

Oh, and yet, lest we forget, this is pretty much the
same basic stuff that got Galileo banned and arrested.

It's one of the ideas that got
Giordano Bruno burned at the stake.

- Is that so?
- It is.

How do you think our man
Fontenelle got away with it?

Probably helped not to be in Italy. And to
be friends with the local chief of police.

But also: his book isn't
polemical.

It's very charming. And that
always goes such a long way.

- Oh, god. I'm just going on and on, aren't I?
- No, no, please continue.

OK, good!

It's good to have a real
audience.

You know, I started a Facebook
group, but nobody joined.

- Ah.
- Yeah.

- Well, there are loads of other ways you could try...
- Actually, no. It's weird to hear myself talk about it.

I'm almost afraid to share it
now.

Plurality of worlds. I think the
most recent, very educated guess

is that there's something like 40 billion Earth-like
planets, of the right temperature, in the Milky Way alone.

Universe. Multiverse.
At a certain point it stops mattering.

- I suppose that's the definition of infinity.
- That's a bit cynical.

You could say that. Or just
practical.

Some people find the concept of infinity
soothing. Others find it terrifying.

Why not just compromise and say: it is
what it is. It's a big old twisted loop.

Definitely cynical. But I
don't blame you.

It's the age we live in. They thought the atom
bomb would burn off the whole atmosphere.

They thought the Large Hadron Collider would tear
open a black hole which would swallow us all.

No, it won't be so quick and
easy.

It'll be overpopulation, climate
change,

some marauding investment bank that becomes
sentient, all gradually wearing us down.

From the plurality to the singularity!
Before we even know it.

OK, but what if all civilizations have decided
it's too dangerous to make contact...

they've all sort of made it a
policy not to.

Some people just stare at their phones all the time
because they're too shy and awkward, it's easier.

You know, I think this place
is bigger than I'd...

What about these buildings, out
here, do people live in those?

They've been empty for several
years.

- I see. But it's possible.
- Sure. You might be able to convert them.

Then I do see potential here.

Tell me this, Mr. Special Projects, if this does become
your satellite campus, would you be working here yourself?

In a way I already am.

- This one. The little one.
- Relatively little.

Can we take a look?

After you.

- Shouldn't it be ladies first?
- Not in this situation.

This is uncharted territory.
I'm not even sure if it's safe.

How about this? If it isn't
safe, we can turn around.

- And around...
- And around...

- There must be a way to the main
rooms from here.

Shouldn't I be asking you that
question?

- Shit.
- Quite.

Let's see if I can...

Well, that's a bit...
personal. But OK.

Congratulations.

Oh, unless she's not your wife.

- She is.
- Good.

You don't seem the type to go around
having affairs and unhappy accidents.

Oh, what is it?
Have I wounded your pride?

Affairs maybe, accidents
definitely not?

Hm. I'm afraid that doesn't seem
quite right either.

Maybe it's that you are a good boy, and you know you are,
but you sort of hoped you'd come across otherwise?

OK, no, that's too much.

What type are you, then? I don't
think I've figured it out.

Sorry.

- Let's just see if we can get the door open again.
- Excellent idea.

Isn't it a bit weird to just
send that?

Instead of calling?

Of course, I don't know. I don't
know how you two communicate.

I've seen people post those
things on line.

For starters, she just pissed on
that, it's gross.

And isn't it way too early to be
making announcements?

Posting an ultrasound I can almost understand,
but even then it's way too much information.

Invading the kid's privacy
before it's even a kid.

- Now you just sound like a threatened...
- I don't care.

I just hope that when the time comes,
you'll remember this conversation

and think twice before
uploading.

You and your lady.

Diana.

Now there's someone with
considerate parents.

Goddess of the moon.

Mistress of the hunt.

- Princess of the Wales.
- That too.

- Can I ask you something?
- Anything.

Are we stuck in here?

Do you not think the charms of a fine
night may even exceed those of the day?

Yes. The day's beauty is
blonde and brilliant,

but the beauty of the night is
brunette, which is more touching.

You are very generous to give favour
to the brunette, being so fair yourself.

It is certainly true,

that an unclouded sun is one of the
most beautiful things in nature,

and the most beautiful things in
the imagination,

the heroines of our romances,
always seem to be blonde too.

Even if I did believe you, I
shouldn't be satisfied,

since the blonde brightness of day has
still so little effect on your heart.

Why do lovers, the best judges
of what stirs our emotions,

address all their poetic
effusions only to the night?

Everything is softer in
starlight.

We feel freer to be alone with
our pensive pleasures.

Besides, the day sky shows us
only the sun,

where the night gives its great
scattering of innumerable stars.

I love the stars, I'm almost
angry with the sun for hiding them.

I cannot forgive him for making
me lose sight of so many worlds.

Worlds? What do you mean?

Pardon me.

You've struck a chord with my
imagination.

I forget myself in a romantic
idea.

And what romantic idea is
this?

I'm half-ashamed to admit it.

I have a notion that every star
may well be a world.

I will not swear to it, but I think it so.
Because it pleases me to think so,

and I believe that pleasure is
an accessory to truth.

Well, if there's such a pleasure in it,
I'll believe the stars are anything you say.

Oh, madam, no, it is not an enjoyment as you'd
find in seeing one of Moliere's comedies:

it is a pleasure of reason. It
delights only the mind.

Do you think me incapable of
pleasures which depend only on reason?

I'll show you your mistake.
Teach me about your stars.

No. Let it never be said that
on an

enchanted evening walk with the
most interesting and beautiful

woman I know, that all I did was
talk about philosophy.

Well,

what's wrong with philosophy?

Here we are.

Well, I guess there is a plus
side to having parked over here.

Assuming our rescuer ever
arrives.

While we're waiting,

I'm very interested to hear more
of your literary analysis.

Well, I'm not at all sure you're being sincere, but
I'm going to press on anyway because this is important:

the question of whether it's
feminist or not... the idea of this

philosopher mansplaining the
whole universe to the marquise.

Of course what we understand as
feminist is from a modern point of view,

and in fact he was writing in an
era

when men felt super-threatened by
women who wanted to educate themselves.

Aren't we still in that era?

Oh, look at you, scoring
points.

The thing is, the marquise chooses to spend
time with him, and to learn about astronomy.

There's a lot of other much less engaging things
she would have been expected to be doing instead.

And there are definitely moments when she doesn't put
up with his bullshit, his supposed "gallantries".

I think there's something to
that.

Fontenelle's entire literary reputation depended on him coming
up through salons, which were created and run by women.

I don't think he was being
condescending.

Or at least he was trying not to
be.

He lived almost to 100, and
there's this story

about how he met a young woman
not long before he died,

and said, "Ah, madame. If only I
were eighty again!"

Fine, I do get the humour and
that it's supposed to be charming,

but on the other hand, it's a
bit of a creepy move.

Oh come on, give the guy a
break.

I only point this out to show that
I hold my monsieur to a high standard

Anyway, apparently he never married.

Oh my God. Was he just covering
for being gay?

And all this was last-minute
reputation insurance?

I'm sure there's some postgraduate
student somewhere investigating.

It always gets political and
complicated,

everybody's flawed.

Calvados.

The good stuff.

What would that look like?

I mean, would we rent these
places out?

No, no. I couldn't be a
landlord.

Maybe start a commune?

Those places never last.

People always fall out.

I know. We could open a B&B.

Probably not a lost cause in
terms of planning permission.

And it's not a bad compromise:
sort of renters,

sort of commune. There's a
turnover built in,

before we get sick of people.

You could host your salons.
Invite some philosophers.

Nice to get at least a little
bit off the grid.

Not have to be chasing a mobile
phone signal all the time.

Isn't it something how much we
think about ourselves, but

barely know who we are?

To paraphrase a certain French writer
friend of mine from the old days:

God must have been drunk when he
created us,

and laughed his ass off when he
sobered up.

Just curious, though,

how far away is this locksmith
you called?

Oh, hush.

In truth, it's actually a lot
smaller than I remember.

Well, you've grown.

What are you doing here,
Bernard?

The family that your bank got
rid of...

And the one, perpetually
unmentioned, casualty of that deal...

Your Dad...

So that makes you the enemy.

But how can you be?

You were just a kid when it
happened.

And whilst I was getting myself
all torn up about

whether I was French or English,
posh or not,

a poor orphan or just some
spoiled brat...

Well, whatever you were doing,

probably wasn't with any malice
towards me or my family.

That's absolutely true.

In my mind I went through a few
versions of how this could go.

Nothing violent or anything,
don't worry.

What am I doing here?

I don't even know.

But whatever it is, I couldn't just call up your company
and demand a whole afternoon of your time for it.

No, I needed a story.

So, I was a film location
finder.

A tech start-up big-shot.

A philosopher-scientist of the
17th century!

It's not easy to find your place
in this world, Maggie.

Let alone the whole cosmic
scheme.

I actually did work at a couple
of TV shows.

Rock bottom assistant, thanks to
an uncle who knew someone.

And flirted with the idea of
making something out of it.

Even did time in Los Angeles,

which was fucking awful.

Worse than law school, which,
yes, I did start

with the intention of suing the
shit out of your employer.

But which I promptly dropped out
of.

Of course.

And yes, I did work at one of those vaguely
sinister tech companies for a while,

also without distinction...

until I got the sack.

And no, she doesn't know.

They'd probably turn this place into
some high-tech secret headquarters.

Your company been approached by
anyone like that?

- Not that I'm aware of.
- Good! That's good.

I fucking hate those...

I don't even know where they
come from.

I am definitely not one of these little shits
who think they can walk out of any job

and get snapped right up by some
other company.

The bratty egomaniacs who just
retire at our age.

Guess I'm not a go-getter.

I don't know what I am,
but I am definitely not a petty go-getter.

Hey, I know what you are.

What?

You're nine months away from
being someone's father.

Fuck!

Just thought I'd point that
out.

Thank you so much.

It's interesting.

Can I see that message again?

D'you know what that is?

I have a pretty good idea.

No, I mean the image itself:
the circle with a cross in it.

That's the ancient symbol of the
Sun. The solar cross.

But at some point they changed it.
Like if you look on the NASA website,

you'll see that now it's the
symbol of the Earth.

At some point the sun symbol
became a circle with a dot in it,

and that symbol was adopted as
the official symbol of the Earth.

Who knew?

That actually is very
interesting.

- What do you think good ol' Fontenelle would make of that?
- Exactly!

Or maybe just think it was a
really cool coincidence.

"I've failed as a father," that's what
he'd say, over and over and over again,

mostly with something like this
in his hand.

He could get so sodden with
self-pity.

But he wasn't wrong.

I don't know who to be angry
with,

but I'm sure as hell not ready
to be a parent.

Who is?

- Well isn't that just such a fucking clich�.
- Yeah, for a reason, though.

Well it pisses me off.

I say I'm not ready, and
unfailingly, that's the answer.

As if I somehow no longer even
have any say in it all.

Well I do have a say. I demand a
say.

And I know it's selfish, and selfishness is
precisely the thing you need to learn to do without

in order to be ready.

Yeah, learn to.

And that takes a while.

We humans have a reasonably long gestation
period, so that buys you some time.

No one even wants to believe there's
a possibility I'd make a crap father.

And so they'd just pretend
otherwise, and then, what?

when I have a messed-up kid,

they'll just, what?... suddenly
all be shocked.

"They fuck you up..."

"...your Mum and Dad."

"They may not mean to..."

"...but they do."

Imagine if they built a huge
spaceship

where the idea was to travel for
generations to reach another solar system,

and they all got cooped up and
sick of each other,

and someone had brought that
poem,

and it was, you know, like
subversive literature,

and they all had a revolution of
deliberately refusing to reproduce,

and so that by the time that ship
actually reached another world,

all those aliens would only find
dead bodies.

Is this something you've been working on?
Are you trying this out on me?

No, just came up with it now.

But I like it! Maybe I should
give this film business a go, eh?

Definitely. Yeah, yeah, you
should.

You're a very tolerant person,
Bernard.

I appreciate that.

- Am I?
- Yeah.

Good dad material, I'm telling
you.

Christ.

You should call her back.

It's not like you to torture her
this way.

- How could you possibly know that?
- I don't know.

I hope.

We're just not at ease any
more.

Not together.

We tried having a baby and it
wasn't working,

so I wanted to use that as a
weapon, to say...

there you have it. The universe is
telling us we don't belong together.

I didn't say it.

I don't believe it.

Not because I think we belong together, but because
I think there's no such thing as belonging.

The universe tells us nothing.

It's not conscious.

And if it is, it's clearly
indifferent to the likes of us.

We have an awful habit of
shutting each other down.

We've become...

ungenerous.

Wonder how long that guy's going
to take.

Could be in here for the night.

Pity; the sunsets are nice here
this time of year.

I'm a loser too, you know.

- I don't think I used that word exactly.
- This job...

if I'm being honest about it...
is undeniably the safe choice.

I'm into pasty-faced poets and
sci-fi and astronomy,

but look how I spend my days.

If I'd known, when I was little,
about the Plurality of Worlds,

I don't mean the actual plurality of worlds;
I think I probably did know about that.

Which by the way is a testament
to something:

if a girl like me can take that
knowledge for granted,

when back then even an
aristocratic woman wasn't expected

to know or even quite fathom it,

well, then, that is saying
something about...

I don't know... grace, I
suppose.

Anyway, if I'd known about this,

I just know it would have
inspired me to be

a scientist,

or a writer,

or at the very least someone
who dresses up as something

interesting and goes to
Comic-Con once in a while.

But I really think it's too
late.

You're not even 30.

That's presumptuous,

but also the most optimistic
thing I think I've heard you say.

Yeah.

What has come over me?

Maybe there's a parallel universe where
it worked out better for both of us.

And probably at least one
where it worked out worse.

Well I don't if that's
pessimistic or optimistic, but yeah,

probably.

Too many possibilities.

I hope you don't just think
I'm some fantasy girl,

an escape from it all.

Now that's presumptuous.

Don't look at me.

You're the one driving this
thing.

- Is it my fault?
- I'm sorry?

- I probably should have gone to the other...
- Oh, not at all.

Oh, I'm so sorry.

- Did you get spun around?
- That's all right.

Are you sure?

Absolutely.

Well, you are indeed English.

- And so are you!
- Partially, anyway.

Right.

I realize it may have been a bit presumptuous
of me to think you'd enjoy a look around.

What? No!

I mean, no, not presumptuous.
Not at all.

- Of course I wanted to look around.
- OK, good.

How dickish would it have been
to accept a stranger's

very specific invitation, come all this
way, and then just tell her to eff off?

Right, but what if it had been
10 or 15 years ago?

That might be exactly what I'd
have done, yeah.

Well, good timing then.

Shall we?

Now, I must warn you, it's
getting pretty run down.

Yeah, I've braced myself as
best I can.

How long has it been?

Many years.

I don't know. I've lost count.

There was a highly regrettable druggy
dropout period just after law school,

when I occasionally would drive
past the place to see...

I don't know... to see if it was
even real.

That quickly felt pathetic.

It wasn't even conclusive:

right now, for instance, it
seems less real than ever.

To me too, actually.

It's a shame we're late for all
the wild strawberries.

Fontenelle swore that
strawberries made him live longer.

He made it to almost 100,
didn't he?

That's right.

Good ol' Fontenelle.

It is bizarre to see it like
this.

Obviously better than a
fucking golf course. But still.

Well, as you know, French
property law being what it is...

I know. Protects the history
and all that.

But to see it empty, it's
tragic.

I agree.

So you're telling me you haven't
had offers from any insufferable

filthy rich tech brats looking
to turn it into, I dunno,

the company's Thursday afternoon massage
parlor-slash-super-soldier cloning lab?

No serious offers.

Do you know anyone who's in the
market?

No one who'd admit it.

So,

here we are. At last.

In my mind I ran through a few
versions of how this could go.

Oh?

You probably worked out I
stalked you a little bit online.

And I imagined all sorts of reasons you might
have to come here so that I could meet you.

Definitely presumptuous.

And I got a little bit carried
away.

Anyway, talk about making something
more complicated than it needs to be.

So finally I just worked up the
nerve to get in touch.

- I hope it wasn't too weird.
- No, not too weird.

I mean, it's completely weird.

But not you. The place. The
circumstances.

Right.

And I hope you'll forgive me if
I've become familiar too quickly.

I don't know.

What's too quickly by your
standards?

To be honest, I don't really
have a standard.

Me neither.

You don't have a pregnant wife who's
waiting to hear from you, do you?

What?

No! I hope not...

No. I'm not married

Divorced.

OK. So this is a gravitational
question.

Would you say, if you had to
choose either/or,

you're someone who leaves,
generally, or someone who gets left?

Or, someone who attracts, or
someone who becomes attracted?

I don't even know anymore.

Gravity's still such a
mystery, isn't it?

And, not to pry,

but OK yes, to pry a little...

the offspring situation?

I was all for them, actually,
but things didn't work out.

We were young.

Probably for the best, to tell
the truth.

I pushed way too hard.

Perhaps overcompensating

- for everything.
- Of course.

I mean, not of course but...

- I'm sorry.
- It's all right.

It was a long time ago now.

Well, the place does feel a
little bit haunted.

But seriously Maggie, I think that's because
nothing's been done to it since we left!

What's the plan?

- What are you going to do to turn it around?
- I know.

Oh, I'm just joking.

Sorry,

I don't know why I'm teasing
you. We've just met.

I suppose it always felt a
little bit haunted.

In good ways, too.

The place has definitely been
through a lot.

Still here.

Christ.

That's just unbearably sad.

I know.

Have you got a pencil?

I've got a pen.

That's good. That's better.

- I think that's actually even more sad now.
- It really is, isn't it?

- What have we done?
- I know.

It wasn't enough to repossess our
sprawling manse and let it rot?

- But now you have to go and scribble all over the walls?
- Stop it.

God, I'm being... horrible.

That was a bit much.

It was. Forgive me, Maggie!

How did you even get this?

Just don't tell my boss.

Or sue him.

Please.

I loved this book when I was
younger.

I didn't understand it. Almost
did.

I wanted to.

I wanted to be a "philosopher"
when I grew up.

Then we lost the house. And
Dad...

Perfect training for a
philosopher, now I think about it.

This is pretty much my
favourite book.

So thanks for letting me borrow
it,

however unwittingly.

You're very welcome.

It's mind-blowing to think there are
places like this all over France.

All over Normandy, even.

But this is one of a kind,
though, isn't it?

Honestly, what do you think
will become of it?

Don't laugh.

I tried to get it turned into a
Fontenelle museum.

Seriously?

Tried to? Past tense?

Didn't work.

We should try again.

There's just one other thing I'd
like to look for.

Wait here, I'll be right back.

Et voila!

Perhaps past its best, but I'm
willing to give it a go.

Have a drink with me, Maggie.

What is that stuff?

Maggie! You disappoint me.

What is this, you ask?

Apple brandy?

The best apple brandy! The
only.

The pride of Normandy.

You know who else had a thing
for apples?

Isaac Newton.

That great English shifter of
French paradigms.

If we're going to drink to all the people who
got us here, we should drink to him too.

And to gravity being a little bit
less of a mystery than it used to be.

In my mind I was playing a
little game.

If I only I could keep you here
till sunset...

What would happen?

No idea.

Sometimes I lack imagination in
really odd ways.

Do you know any stars?

Not anymore. Not by name.

You know there's this app where you
can hold your phone up towards the sky

and it tells you the
constellations you're looking at.

- That's amazing.
- I thought so.

But it needs a mobile signal,

so maybe we don't want to go off
the grid after all.

And if there really are infinite
stars,

does that mean that any constellation
you could possibly imagine,

any little connect-the-dots you
could make,

must exist somewhere?

Like all you need is the proper
vantage point to see it from?

And the propensity to look for
it.

No shortage of that here.

Well, think about the face in
the moon...

it's a great big reminder of how it's in
our nature to see what we want to see.

- Ourselves.
- Quite.

Well! Sounds like we've got it
all sorted, doesn't it?

What?

The universe.

Oh shit, I don't know.

No?

Well, the sun-earth situation,

yeah, most people seem pretty
clear on that.

But stuff like quantum
entanglement,

the multiverse, what there was
before the Big Bang?

Fuck!

So there won't be another
moment where someone says,

Oh, actually, it's this.

Yeah, that's much simpler,
that makes sense. It's this, everyone.

Theory of everything.

Don't know. Could be.

Teams are working on it, for
sure.

Teams!

If someone does crack it,

they won't be burned at the
stake, will they?

I would hope not.

But you never know.

All alone in the meantime.

Alone together.

There's this great part where the
Marquise talks about how it's overwhelming

to realise our insignificance in
the universe.

And the Philosopher says: yes,

but it doesn't lessen the charms of a
beautiful face, a fine pair of eyes...

as he puts it: they retain their power in
spite of all the worlds that can be created.

Not bad. What does she say to
that?

She says:

Love is a strange thing;

it escapes every corrective,

and no system of understanding
can reduce it.