All language subtitles for Never Travel on a One Way Ticket (1987)

Never Travel On a One Way Ticket.

You know how you
wake up out of a dream...

where the dead were alive
and the living were dead.

The heart is gripped by an icy hand.

You are very far away. At the
wrong place at the wrong time.

You've walked into a trap.
Become a tool for a complex plan...

that you've executed and carriied
out without your own knowledge.

Should you then be proud
or have a guilty conscience?

There is an external
and an internal space.

Everything that is outside your
skin can belong to the external.

I had dreamt of
being bitten by a python.

Bitten... They don't even bite,
but squeeze their victims to death.

But that had been
very clear in the dream.

I sat high up in a tree.

All around was a lush green.

The snake had come from behind.
There was nothing to do.

It was all according to nature.

I was the defenceless victim.

Hypnotised by
the yellow eyes of the snake.

It was peaceful,
in a terrifying way.

And I longed to go back.

Have you considered that
there are two ways to see man?

And that both of them
are equally true?

The fiirst is that
man is robust and adaptable...

...and can live a long happy life under
seemingly unbearable circumstances.

This is the second:

Man spends his entire life sufering
from painful childhood memories-

-that cannot be argued away.

Existence becomes, more than
anything else, a longing for release.

Dear friends, there will be
even harder times, after us.

But there can still be call to tell
this story of an lnvestigator-

-a bitter person, quite similar to-

- fiigures in our contemporary
tales of crime and punishment.

A researcher, a mole, who digs
his way through fact and fiiction-

- constantly wondering, rarely
understanding. Always broke.

Jobs are few and far between,
even if something usually turns up -

- to keep it all afloat
for another a little while.

Being single,
without any connections-

- I was only entitled to
a small one room apartment.

I had had connections,
but they had weakened.

Why live on in this dificult time?

There was nobody
who could answer the question.

Beloved son,
look after this weapon.

Use it only as needed.
You know what I mean.

Care for it with oil and love.
Your Dad.

Statistics have shown time and
again that life is just not possible.

Not in these conditions.

And people kept on
defying the statistics-

- stubbornly alive,
if somewhat hollow-eyed.

If the rats can do it,
so can we.

The cats may be partying up there-

- but you can't reach us
down in the sewers.

You don't know anything about us.

Shit always floats to the top.

You may be smart, but that
doesn't mean you're admired.

You are hated.
You sit in your 4-room flats...

with silk-dressed women
and brimming pantries...

trusting that your doormen
will do their jobs.

But you've forgotten something:
Even cleanliness stinks.

One day the maggots will hatch in
the middle of your nice living rooms.

His office was in a block where
small companies rented space.

Pottery repairers and whores,
gender surgeons and bone doctors.

Blacksmiths and
salesmen for occult ideas.

Pedants side by side
with enthusiasts.

They all shared one trait: they
hadn't got any further than here...

but hadn't gone bankrupt either.

If your hand seduces you, cut it of.

It is better to continue
your life as a cripple...

than to keep both hands
and arriive in Hell.

To the fire that cannot be put out.

And if your foot seduces you,
slice it away.

It is better
that you live with a limp...

than to keep them both
and be cast...

I'm sure you all recall
Hassan The Great...

the illusionist with
so many unusual tricks.

He has often been a guest
on our program.

Hassan has surprised the world
by becoming a scientist...

and as head of a team of prominent
colleagues in the natural sciences...

he has had sensational results.

There is no question that he
will win awards for his discoveries.

Maybe the biggest award of them all.

How about this machine...

which conquers all distances
between the continents?

Here we have the subject of
an experiment, a true volunteer...

placed in the transmitter
on this side of the globe.

The Earth is round, as we all know.

We are witnessing our friend
in the cabinet being teletransported...

to a receiving station very far
away, on the other side of Earth...

at the same moment as he
disappears from the transmitter.

Our friend here seems a bit shaken.
But it is not the actual procedure...

which has made his legs weak
and his throat dry.

See his eyes.
Are they not shining with joy?

Finally, after a hard life.

Look around, mankind.

Your friends and neighbours live
as if they have learnt nothing.

They are indifferent to everything
in their environment.

But you don't let yourself be
discouraged. You have awakened.

You have seen an offer
and responded to it...

and you have
been allowed to travel far.

You still have your humanity,
you still have your curiosity.

Having something to discover
is worth a great deal, isn't it?

What do you see?
Is this really paradise?

There can be no doubt about it.
You have achieved your dreams.

And how is this achieved technically?

"Simple, dear friend", says Hassan.

We may not quite agree, but this
is what a layman can comprehend:

Molecules are dissolved,
something seen as deadly...

before Hassan
discovered the formula...

that keeps each of us whole
in every life, every day...

...a concept of transferrial that
no one had previously dared consider.

Split second molecule transfer from
one part of the world to another...

is such a success that it is
a grand breakthrough for science...

and for all of mankind.

Many volunteers have been sent to
remote places like Papua...

Peru, the Balkans
and the north of Japan.

Of course, southern Japan can not
be visited, for obvious reasons.

First we attempted sending items,
which came through perfectly.

Transporting people was the next step
and now the whole world is open.

Maybe even other worlds
that we haven't yet discovered.

Dear viewer, liberation awaits.

Thou cometh from below,
I cometh from above.

Thou art of this world,
I am not of this world.

A toast to you, all of you.

Horses, tanned women and champagne.

I have you on a wall chart,
but where is it?

Leave me alonei.

The sweet, pungent almond smell
of honeysuckle...

...under the pale stars
of a summer twilight...

reminds me of blonde women.

Blonde, sinful women
with dark eyebrows...

above half-closed,
tempting eyes.

Glimmering through
the soft black eyelashes.

How about returning to the womb?

That's a great idea. Fabulousi.

To just crawl in.
That's how it should be.

The wind blows where it wants...

- ...and you hear its whisper.
- I want to go home.

You don't know where it
comes from or where it's been.

Just up the steps
and to the right.

- Behind the fence.
- Home?

A lump of molecules wanting to go
home. What difference does it make?

Lie here and rot like me,
it's wonderful.

You can forget.

Do you know if there is
anything on the other side?

On the other side
of the fence, I mean!

The wind blows where it wants...

and you hear its whisper.

But you don't know
where it comes from...

or where it has been.

- Give me some water.
- No. You can't lay here.

Bastard!

- I noticed.
- You're behind on the rent.

We may have to recover it.

Besides, there's vermin
in the space where you are.

Whatever you do there. It doesn't
seem to be very profitable.

My office doesn't have more vermin
than any other space, like this one.

I'm just trying to be decent.
I can't do more than that.

It can't wait any longer.

If you don't pay right away,
you'll be reported.

Don't you dare! You can't
treat me however you like!

- Ow, don't hurt me!
- I have been waiting for this!

You snooping, chattering cockroach!

I am a sick man.

I must have blood,
or else I will die.

All I am asking for is some blood.

Only a few drops.

But the doctor
just keeps making promises.

Help me. Pursued.
Will return at three o'clock.

Let us in. Please. Now. Right away.

Yes, indeed.

We've heard that there's vermin here.

- Shall I take that one?
- No.

I'll take care of it.

We're not happy with
what we've seen here today.

Not happy at all.

- We weren't being completely honest.
- Not completely.

The truth is completely diferent.

- You say it.
- Me? As you wish.

We happen to be speech therapists.

We are here to teach you
to speak clearly. That's our job.

More clearly than ever.

You haven't told us
what we wanted to hear.

- Where is she?
- Did she say anything?

He has a sensitive nature, it seems.

But he doesn't speak very well.

Let's see if he has a tongue.
Say something. Please.

Otherwise, you might make me sad.

Could you do me the kindness
of snipping this of for him?

Yes, it's sad. Soon he may
no longer have a tongue in his mouth...

nor head or feet.

Or hands.

Are you the one
who investigates for pay?

- The lnvestigator?
- You could say that, yes.

I was going to... I was going to
ask your help with something.

It's about... I left a message
earlier. Have you read it?

Her skirt was made from
a thick, green fabric...

like the kind that once covered
the tables in the pool halls.

It was so taut in the front...

that rounding of the mons veneris
was almost hidden.

Or so she thought. He had X-ray
vision for that kind of thing.

His imagination was already there...

fondling under the prim,
green fabric.

Continue. I'm listening.
That's what I get paid for.

It's all somewhat complex.

Very complex.

I don't know...
I really don't know where to begin.

I think you should begin at the
beginning. We have plenty of time.

Actually, it began
when I was a baby...

His conscience wasn't clear now.
He should have sensed the danger.

She had been nervous on arriival,
and not without reason.

He should have pulled her
onto the floor before it happened...

and protected her
with his own body.

But he wasn't quick this morning...

and his intuition
had completely failed him.

But whoever had spent so much
explosive power on them...

had failed in their primary
purpose. They were both alive.

The fiirepower had been wasted
on the building itself.

Her skirt was thick enough to stop
some shrapnel, but the blouse...

He was overcome
by a weakness akin to poetry...

and felt entirely unable
to move in any direction.

What the hell? What the...?

What are you doing in here?

Get out!

Stop! You cannot behave this way!

You will have to pay damages!

Stop!

He didn't even feel the fall.

After a while,
his sight returned, at least.

"June 3rd" said the note
that had fluttered by.

Evidently, this was the kind of day
when he was a helpless victim...

of powers working
in different directions.

If his will power
couldn't keep him afloat...

he would have to be prepared
to be torn asunder.

But he was not completely without
hope. His training had taught him...

about the construction
of the city's various levels.

He had the plans
in the back of his head.

The restaurant June 3rd was named
for that great day 12 years ago...

when the local produce had been
approved for human consumption.

Leave now. You have to go right away.
You know you can't be here.

- I'm staying here.
- Get out of here.

I'll stay. I'm waiting
for an acquaintance.

You know you cannot stay.
Leave this place immediately.

I'm waiting here, I said.

- Don't you understand me?
- I'm staying here.

- I'm about to lose my temper. Leave.
- No!

- You can't be here, I'm telling you.
- I'm staying.

- You have to leave now.
- I'm waiting for an acquaintance.

You have to leave.

- Acatamaran with gravy.
- I'm telling you I'll wait here.

I'm staying here. No!

Leave now.

We need your help.
Can you hide us?

Alright.

Follow me.

I used to work for my uncle,
Hassan the Great.

- He was an illusionist.
- I've seen him on TV.

I was his favourite. I would sit on
his knee on the veranda at sunset.

There has to be
an emergency exit. Come on.

Hassan was wonderful,
but the family fell on bad times...

he had money troubles
and started making strange plans.

Come on.

He pulls the wool over
the audience's eyes completely.

- I'm listening. Continue.
- Teletransportation is a hoax.

I don't know what happens to them,
but I suspect it's horrendous.

It was easy for my uncle. He often
used similar effects on stage.

Cabinets where people
would be moved.

There were hidden doors and mirrors.
Very simple, but it worked well.

There have to be more reasonable
explanations than simple trickery.

It was really easy.
He used identical twins.

The audience believed it completely...

since everyone had
a longing for that kind of thing.

Imagine if it had been true. You'd
be able to go anywhere you wanted.

Why hope for such impossibilities?

Hassan has understood the need to
escape. My need and everyone else's.

What do you want from me?

You came to my office, but did
you really have a case for me?

If that's the case, I would
like to discuss the terms.

I'm completely worn out, dirty to my
very core, and we're being pursued.

If you don't tell me
what this is about...

you'll have to fend for yourself.

I've told you! My uncle tricks people
into cabinets they never come out of!

Yes, but where is the case in this?

You've uncovered it all on your own.

So accuse him, your beloved uncle
Hassan on whose knee you once sat.

Go to the district attorney.
Obvious crimes tend to be prosecuted.

He can buy any person he wants to.
I fear for my life.

What happens to the people
in the cabinets? Where do they go?

- That's your case.
- Come.

To paradise.

To paradise.

To paradise...

To paradise...

To paradise...

If he could stand up, he should be
able to see what a man wants:

Girls in veils. Friendly girls
who are soft, smiling and servile.

Preferably a harmonious number.
Three or fiive of them...

Combing each other.
Whispering, fidgeting...

Waiting for a man to caress,
serve and whisper to.

The idea was for him to believe
that he really was in Heaven.

The Heaven of the Hashashim.

That what was happening to him
was paranormal, not earth bound.

That this was where he would
get to go, if he just behaved.

This was a sample, a store display.

He was also drugged, so that the
sets wouldn't be too noticeable.

But he had not forgotten his
training, what his Dad taught him.

But they seemed to have forgotten...

that they weren't
dealing with an amateur.

An experienced lnvestigator doesn't
indulge in dreams among sets.

It didn't look like real water,
but his throat was dry.

And, indeed, it was white wine.

It would be wonderful
to just give in.

To sink down to the soft ground
and just exist.

One night is just like the other.

And the stars come closer each day.

Utter corruption was a possibility...

and soon after that,
an actual fact.

He felt that they were
approaching the terriible core.

The contract itself. He understood
the situation all too well.

"Sign this in blood or spirit..."

"... or all of it will end."

Life is a walk in a corriidor
made of glass.

You can see in all directions,
but not go where you want to.

You can escape from this existence,
but it takes a very long time.

Maybe more than an entire lifetime.

But it's said that the soul
can leave the body for a while.

You have to fiind a phrase,
a liberating solution.

The trapped feelings
have to get out...

and they take it
as their right to do so.

The shell cracks,
deceitful scents of flowers spread.

The soul travels alone.

Maybe that is the true personality,
maybe it is a demon.

The return is painful
and the crack remains.

A human being can't play at being
God without consequences.

That requires both
resources and preparation.

And even so,
it is uncertain to succeed.

A price must be paid.
Maybe much later.

Someone seems to have decided
to pay that price.

Where have you been? Tell me.

In a dream.
But I wasn't sleeping, I was awake.

- But where were you?
- In an artificial paradise.

Beautifully built.
It had possibilities.

- Did the wine taste good?
- I would have preferried it drier.

Maybe that applies
to the woman as well?

Where is the girl now?

We have formed an exploratory
committee with the district attorney.

Let us keep playing now.

Hassan sensed that
The lnvestigator was bluffing...

but was still going to
let him live a bit longer.

Finally for everyone.

Finally for everyone.

Hey... Listen.

"Finally for everyone!
Heat, air and food."

"Wide open spaces cleared
for farming and construction."

"Tele... Teletransportation
directly from all major cities..."

"... at a pittance of a cost."

"New techniques has made it
possible to heat the South Pole..."

"... a vast area that previously
was just snow and ice."

"Now an area of green pastures,
grazing cattle and singing birds."

"Act today, while the best land
is still available."

To be believed,
he needed better evidence.

He knew that he'd soon have to
get back down into the tunnels.

First he needed a device that could
make evidence tangible: a camera.

First he needed a device that could
make evidence tangible: a camera.

He stayed away from his office,
which was sure to be watched.

But there was something they
didn't know about: Dad's cabin.

Dad had been a unique character...

who had built himself "A Rogue's
Hideout" out by the northern dump.

Using available material,
he had constructed a hovel...

which might still be there,
under the garbage.

I know you're under here somewhere!

Dad! We never talked to
each other enough.

Dad, where are you?

His old tunnel was still there.

He had always been
drawn to private hideouts.

Sometimes, studying old plans
had shown abandoned sewers...

and other cavities
underneath the buildings.

Next to one of Hassan's
teletransportation wards...

there was one of
these tunnel systems.

He had some
unpleasant premonitions.

And of course there was
the danger of a cave-in...

but he had an almost unfailing
sense of the fiirmness of materials.

He was comfortable in tunnels...

and felt the protection ofered
by a thick layer of dirt and tile.

- What the hell are you doing here?
- The lnvestigator is dead.

- What do you mean?
- What was I supposed to do?

This building is my responsibility.

- What is that?
- It's for The lnvestigator.

- Give it to me!
- I am the new lnvestigator.

I told you to give it to me!

I am a sick man.

I must have blood, or I will die.
The doctor just keeps promising.

The lnvestigator...
I have connections!

We could... You and l.

That's him. The lnvestigator!

The cemetery remained
where it had always been...

because of the inhabitants
ancient habits, now forgotten.

The garbage dump was expanding,
encroaching on the graves.

Time for the old to give way
for that which is necessary.

The evidence was still only
an image on his own retina.

He'd had Lipmann's
emulsion in the camera...

even though he knew
it wasn't light sensitive enough.

It was as if something inside him
was impeding rational behaviour.

His destination was a hotel room
in the so-called pleasure district.

He had his doubts as to how genuine
its pleasures actually were.

Since noses have been known to grow
as old age approaches...

he thought he saw a possible
older self in the make-up mirrior...

before he started his walk.

There's something restive
about anonymous hotel rooms.

It's the one place to fiind
the peace of the soul one desires.

A place of murders, struggles and
thousands of nervous fucks.

Even so, there was an hypnotic
calm about this kind of room.

Maybe because he right then
and there could be just anyone.

She would bring the evidence
in the form of three microdots.

Each one a quarter
of a millimetre in diameter.

They would be well hidden...

and her disguise would be suited
for this particular hotel room.

She was to look like a whore.

The handover
would happen internally.

He had painted the tip
with a magnetic liquid...

to attract the dots,
made of incredibly thin metal.

- You think you can handle this?
- I'm not a child any more, Uncle.

You know I have a soft spot
in my heart for you.

Let me handle this my way.
Trust me, Uncle Hassan.

- I'm here now.
- I have waited a long time.

I was delayed. Forgive me.

Never mind, little girl.
You are welcome all the same.

- What does Sir request?
- Nothing special, just the usual.

Everyone says that. I would
like to suggest something extra.

Something extra? With pleasure!

An enchanting sight.
Come closer and let me...

Slow down, little one.

Stop it!

Don't go there! It's a trick!

All of it is fake! Fake!

Settle down.

Stop it!

Did you bring food supplies?

Do you really think food will grow
just because you do some digging?

We'll be fine.
We've been promised the best land...

if we open the tailor shop again
when we're done farming.

It's wonderful
to get away from this life.

There won't be any farming.
Listen to me, it's all fake.

Yes, you'll get away from this life,
but in that other way.

He's jealous. He doesn't seem to
have done very well.

We cannot lend you any money.
It's all gone.

You will be exterminated!

- You're right. They're very jealous.
- Listen to me!

No, you listen.
First you say that it's a hoax...

and then you say that we will get
away from this life. Speak clearly.

I won't say what we did to get the
money, but we've paid the tickets.

- In cash.
- So what can happen to us. Cash.

It'll be lovely.

- Where are they?
- What?

- The microdots. Can you see them?
- I can't see a thing. It's too dark.

What do you mean?

There's nothing to see, is there?
It couldn't have existed.

- Wait, there's someone outside.
- Answer my question.

Answer me!

He had been blind as a mole,
but now he had the right eyes.

That was the end,
biologically speaking.

But it had been more about an idea
than a biological certainty.

There had never been
any real harmony.

His closeness to her had not
been complete. Far from it.

And he had never been able to
give it his all.

That goal wasn't clear enough.

Whereas the other thing,
solving the problem...

deciphering the great conspiracy...
that's what had been important.

He'd thought about it wrong,
but it makes no difference.

There is an urge to
think about concrete projects...

and avoid digging
into diffuse demands.

The Theory of Relativity
was wrong right now, as usual.

He thought again
about the hotel room.

A large brown mirrored dresser.

Something flickers by in frame:
a white kimono.

That was the last of this
existence. Time for a new one.

He didn't mean it
in any religious sense.

It was about a sense of time.

You know how you
wake up out of a dream...

where the dead were alive
and the living were dead.

The heart is gripped
by an icy hand.

You are very far away. At the
wrong place at the wrong time.

You have walked into a trap.
Become a tool for a complex plan...

that you've executed and carriied
out without your own knowledge.

Should you then be proud
or have a guilty conscience?

John E Thelin
OrdioViision, 2006