Original subtitles

(Átirat készítője: TurboScribe.ai. Frissítés Korlátlanra az üzenet eltávolításához.) Okay, figure

one, chair, filing cabinet, figure two, desk,

telephone, documents, lamp, door, chair, voice.

The complex had seen better days.

No, no.

The entire complex was in disarray.

No.

The complex was on its last legs and

verging on collapse.

No, just, you know what, just let me

go back.

We are deep in the occupied interior now,

and the complex still holds sway.

Rumours of change have been stirring in official

channels, but no one sees it coming, and

no one is prepared.

Then, in the quiet hours before dawn, word

of an imminent arrival.

What does it mean?

Director looks to door, back at letter, again

to door.

He listens, turns to postmaster.

Have you come across any suspicious correspondence between

them?

Nothing of late.

No mention of a secret plot to have

me replace?

None that I caught.

You need to be vigilant.

Open anything and everything.

I will.

I do.

You find even the slightest complaint.

Bring it to me at once.

Yes, sir.

A pause.

Then, against his better judgement, the postmaster decides

to elaborate.

I'll keep on the lookout for any evidence

of unofficial activity.

It's just that there's such a mountain, mountain,

mountain, mountain of content to keep track of,

and details have a tendency to get buried,

and it's becoming difficult to keep up.

Excuse me.

Are you all right?

Why?

What's wrong?

Nothing's wrong.

Just a little overworked.

Wieland, you're running on at the mouth.

I don't know what it is.

It comes on sometimes like a sneeze.

Well, keep a tighter lid on it, will

you?

Otherwise, you might spill something you shouldn't.

I'll do my best to keep a lid

on it, and will endeavour to bring you

whatever evidence I dig up about it.

Wieland.

Take some time off.

Wieland!

You're late.

The postmaster and I have already debriefed.

I received a letter this morning, from a

trustworthy source, containing a rather urgent warning.

Would you, Wieland?

A man from head office, travelling incognito, has

been sent to inspect your operation.

Yes.

So, who's behind it?

Good question.

What does it mean?

Well, it's all in how you read it.

You think they've caught wind of the...

Wind of the?

Someone eventually had to catch on to the...

On to the?

The allegations of...

Sorry?

If I may, sir.

Perhaps it's an official response to the lack

of...

Or the excessive use of...

Or even the total and complete disregard for

the...

The...

The way I see it, only one thing

is certain.

Word must have gone out.

Yes, Wieland, thank you.

Well put.

So, I've given you warning.

I've made some arrangements for myself, and I

suggest you do the same.

Especially you, Dr Harlow.

I have a feeling you'll want to inspect

your department first.

In what sense?

In the sense of smell.

You might try some disinfectant.

The risk of infection from inhalation of foul

vapours is a myth.

The miasmatic theory has been debunked.

In reality, you'd have to come in contact

with noxious effluvia, bacterium, excreta and disjecta to

catch the disease.

That said, as a precaution, we'll move the

really sick ones out back.

Interrogator Clack.

Sir.

The jail.

Sir.

What condition are the cell blocks in?

Overflowing, sir.

Good.

Put a few choice inmates on display.

Display?

Someone I can point to and say, the

movement is dead.

Uh, have you had a chance to listen

to the tapes I sent up?

I'm very busy, Clack.

I understand.

It's just that the tapes indicate we don't

have anyone we can point to.

And the movement is actually gaining ground.

Well then, round up a dozen more subjects

for interrogation.

Yes, sir.

Good plan, sir.

I don't care what method you use.

I want talk.

Talk.

Talk.

Talk.

What is this fetishistic fixation with the mouse

and its emissions?

Minister D'Souza.

That's me.

What in God's name is happening in the

Department of Ceremonies, Cultural Affairs, Religion, and Special

Events?

Will it light our way or lead us

into darkness?

That's the question.

Is there something you could demonstrate?

Perhaps this?

Or this?

Or this?

This might be a revealing.

And then again, this, this and this.

What do you suggest?

Prepare an official welcome.

Because any moment the door may open in

walk.

What is it, my darling?

Let me back up.

Oh!

I was awoken before dawn by my darling

husband.

A secret letter containing an urgent warning from

a trustworthy source.

So naturally I ran downstairs to tell Officer

Bush who wasn't at his desk.

So I went to inform Officer Jeffcott who

wasn't at his post.

And then, in the stairwell, I ran right

into Captain Tussman.

Tussman has heard a thing or two about

a thing or two.

It's spreading fast.

So there we were, pressed up against the

railing.

And the Toast says to me, he says,

There's been an incident in the left wing

last night.

A sighting.

I don't have all the details, but the

Toast got a message from Furman, who heard

from Taranski about a strange fellow causing a

stir.

Who?

Well, that's just it.

This fellow has no uniform, no papers.

He's refusing to pay for a thing, and

says he's here from head office.

And then, I couldn't help myself.

I screamed, My God!

Just...

That's the inspector!

You can't go like that.

It's my ceremonial regalia.

Don't be rash.

I'm coming with you.

Sir!

Pressed against the back wall of the complex,

down behind the stables, an old storehouse is

used as staff lodging.

Of all its airless, makeshift little rooms, number

five is by far the worst, reserved for

sub-clerks and their assistants.

The lowest of the low.

Impossible.

What are we to do?

I don't see any way out of it.

Not this time.

I feel sick.

How do we get home?

Huh?

It's a month by coach, at the very

least.

How much is the fare?

Take it out of my travel expenses.

There's nothing left of your damn travel expenses.

Oh, hang it.

I've never been so hungry in all my

life.

Hand me my pouch of tobacco.

Did you not hear?

I said hand me my pouch.

And then fetch my cap and cane.

I should like to take my breakfast in

the parlour.

I don't have your pouch.

No, I'm not.

Hand it over.

Look, I don't have your pouch.

I'm not lying.

Do you see anything that resembles a cap

or a cane or a pouch?

Anything of that sort on my person?

Where's my...

Coat?

Where's my...

Watch?

You lost them at cards, remember?

Where's my trunk?

Confiscated, yeah.

You can kiss your trunk goodbye.

The officers have it now.

You and your master are cheats, they said.

We know the breed.

We've seen swindlers like you before.

And you let them take it, I suppose?

You invited them in, did you?

Didn't even bother to wake me, you measly,

suckling pig.

Go and order breakfast.

They won't give us anything to eat.

Oh, no?

I'll see about that.

It's locked.

Why?

They're holding us.

On what grounds?

On the grounds of the big mess you

made of the ante room.

Mess?

I don't remember.

Oh, yeah.

You were swinging an antique coffee urn in

circles above your head.

Whoa, whoa, whoa.

And then you let it go.

Oh.

You pulled down a curtain rod.

Uh-huh.

Just ripped it right off the wall.

And using it as kind of a...

One of those...

What do you call it?

Oh, your pole vault.

No.

You launched yourself...

Yes?

Into the wall.

I suppose I was aiming for the door.

Yeah, well, you missed.

This business is going to get us thrown

into isolation for at least a week.

I hate to hell with isolation.

Let them try.

Please excuse my sudden intrusion.

Don't mention it.

As director of the complex, it is my

duty to see...

Before you go any further, I'll say one

thing.

No, no, no.

Allow me to finish.

I'm here on official business.

Then you can't stay here.

You're coming with me.

I'm staying.

I will not allow it.

It is my duty to see that official

guests suffer no inconvenience.

You're too late.

I've been suffering them all morning.

Fine.

I have suffered starvation, incarceration, confiscation, been deprived

of my uniform, stripped of my rights, and

put on the hook for damages to the

anteroom.

It has been rather inconvenient, to say the

least.

And I refuse to pay for a thing.

Aha.

So, he wants me to play along with

his disguise.

Mm-hmm.

Very well.

I know this game.

There.

That should cover it.

Mine?

Yes.

More.

Well...

There.

Do I...

No, no, no, no.

Not necessary.

No?

No!

No, no, no.

Do we understand each other?

Let's drop the charade and get down to

business, shall we?

Why are you here?

I'm the Revisor.

I'm sorry.

The which?

The Revisor.

The Revisor.

Oh, he's a shrewd one.

But he's no match for me.

First, I'll corner him.

Then, I'll pin him down.

And then, the truth.

From which office?

Head office.

Which department?

Statutes and Charters.

Which section?

Revisions.

Lie after lie, and never trips.

So, changing this word to that word, is

that what you do?

Yes, and no.

And you call that official business?

Certainly, yes.

What brings you so far from the centre?

I was sent by official decree to revise

the Interior Charter.

To revise?

Yes.

Not inspect?

No.

And what exactly needed revision?

I'm not really authorised to say.

Aha!

A chink in the armour.

Now I've got him.

Go on.

I'm not to be trifled with.

This is my jurisdiction, and I demand a

full report.

In accordance with Article 5 of Title 2,

and with the authority set forth in 2

-5-103 to modernise terminology throughout, a sub

-subparagraph had been repealed in the section where

the Exclusion Clause is established.

And I know I don't have to tell

you about the Exclusion Clause, or, for that

matter, the Unification Clause, and all the internal

cross-reference, but here's where it gets fuzzy.

The provisions within subsection 6 had been amended

and harmonised, but not so in subsection 7,

where the word director must truly represent the

nature of the position.

So what was to be done?

Well, in the spirit of compliance, and after

much back and forth, it was decreed that

all mention of the director be struck, cut,

and permanently removed from the Charter.

And that's only the beginning...

My God, what a performance.

His defences are impenetrable.

...and those vying for a softer, more moderate

application of internal reform.

And the conflict went on for years before

the real source of the discrepancy was detected,

an error in the heart of subsection 7,

a single comma out of place, which by

some measure changes nothing, but by another measure

did change things, and almost changed them permanently,

especially if that change had been officially implemented.

So I was sent to move it one

space to the left.

You're here to move a comma.

I'm here to move a comma.

To move a comma.

To move a comma.

I did it already.

I moved it.

Job done.

Huh.

Forgive me!

What?

Forgive me!

I've lost my grip.

I let it slide.

I gave into temptation.

And as for the girl, yes, did I

beat her on occasion?

Yes, I beat her, but I beat her

out of a sense of duty and discipline.

Perhaps you've mistaken me for someone...

The rest is slander.

The allegations were false.

My staff invented all of it.

They're out to murder me.

I think you've mistaken me for someone...

There are no mass graves.

There's been no use of torture to extract

confession.

There are no missing dissidents.

None.

It seems he's mistaken me for someone of

high rank and influence.

Now, let's be straight with one another.

You deserve better than this.

I have a fine.

You can stay in my apartment.

It has a nice view.

It's bright.

It's airy.

Come on.

Let me escort you.

Listen, listen, listen!

When you say apartment, you don't mean isolation

cell?

Why?

Do you want to inspect it?

Inspect it?

Inspect it.

Inspect it?

To be honest, I'm quite peckish.

I could use some lunch.

Excellent!

We'll stop for lunch at the canteen, do

a quick tour of isolation, then back to

my place for a small reception.

I've got that case of tainted boot.

I'll make him drink.

That should get him talking.

Follow me!

You see?

Now that's how it's done.

Have my trunk delivered to the director's apartment,

will you?

And in the meantime, I shall be dining

in the officer's canteen.

The provisor is

whisked away to attend a banquet luncheon and

hours pass ad nauseam in the steam-filled

officer's mess.

All the key figures are present throughout, and

when enough is enough, they rise from the

tables and in formal procession make for an

inspection of the cell blocks.

But as the jail is flush with judicial

proceedings, there's hardly time for anything more than

a quick glimpse of isolation.

So the procession reascends, and the provisor, waving

an all-access pass, is granted entry to

the director's apartment for a ceremonial welcome.

Wooh!

Ahhhh!

Yoo-hoo!

Lost in a region, lost

in a dream, What a voice of night

And where there are you All four in

the shape, all four approaching.

Terrible xylophone!

I'm so sorry.

No, she's in a good way.

I propose a toast.

Thank you, Harold.

Yes, as director of the complex, I have

a devil of a job.

From sentencing, to interrogation, to elimination, restoration, and

interpretation.

I'm right there beside you.

Another man would look out for his own

advantage, but do I.

No.

I'm kept awake at night thinking, how can

I do more?

And I can't seem to find the answer.

But enough about me.

A warm welcome to our esteemed guest, the

Right Honourable, I don't know exactly.

Cut.

Why don't you tell us, tell us about

yourself.

What are your interests?

What are you, what are you looking into

these days?

At the moment, an empty glass.

Go on.

Go on.

No.

Yes, yes.

Go on.

No, no.

But I long to hear about your life

at the Centre.

Yes.

Yes, please tell us.

Fascinating.

Go on.

Tell us about your life at the Centre.

Oh, well, I suppose, if pressed, I have

a story or two I could tell.

That's good.

Pretty good.

Very good.

Do you know the one about the department

head from the Imperial School of Jurisprudence?

No.

No.

No.

You haven't heard about the department head from

the Imperial School of Jurisprudence?

Make us a picture.

If you do ever get back to the

Centre, just ask about the parties I throw.

Ask about my balls.

Yes.

Tell us.

Tell us.

Listen up.

It's an elite circle I cater to.

And one night, all the prominent members were

in attendance.

The Minister of Land and Parliamentary Reforms.

The Minister of Livestock and Rural Development.

The Ambassadors of Latvia, Norway, Uganda, and Poland.

The Colonel Festusfac Bure.

Lord Cornelius Napier of Magdala.

State Counsellor Anbi Bona Boro.

Prince Felix.

Prince Edvard.

Prince Chamudi.

And a certain department head from the Imperial

School of Jurisprudence, who I found when I

rose the next morning, pantless and entwined and

fully compromised in my foyer.

You haven't heard this?

Come on, I'm in the Centre.

This is gigantic.

But no one knows this.

And it doesn't leave the room.

Ask who broke the story to the press.

Who broke the story to the press?

I did.

I'm the nameless source.

Yeah?

The one they say, and I quote, chopped

off the department's head and then slipped away

unnoticed.

And that's the sort I am.

I don't spare anybody.

I don't even spare myself.

I'm everywhere.

Crack.

Did you get all that?

Uh, yes, yes, yes.

What did you make of it?

Well, it sounds to me like his connections

to head office are entirely absurd.

I'm not 100% on anything.

Willard.

Suppose even half of what he says is

true.

Of course it's true.

A man in his cups is always on

the surface.

What's in his heart is on his tongue.

I've never been in the presence of such

a refined person.

And enough of your tattle.

This is a serious conversation.

Harlow, you'd best fix him up with something

from your cabinet.

I was just going to say, aspirin and

a seltzer coming right up.

And now, considering the uncertainty of the whole,

uh, what's the best move here?

Here's the best move.

Easy, easy.

We put him back in staff lodging, no?

No.

Certainly not.

We can't have him wandering loose about the

complex.

Let's get him into bed.

Yes.

Right.

Easy.

Willard, I don't feel glad I'm by the...

Which room?

The room with the view of the vast

and unknowable region.

Easy, easy.

No, no, no, no, no.

Gently, gently.

Watch it.

Have you got it?

Ha, ha.

Hoarded.

We'll enter.

Evening.

Evening.

You've been treated well?

You had a good meal?

Scrumptious.

Thank you.

Good.

Good.

Can we have a word?

A word?

Between equals.

Okay.

Your master is no reviser, is he?

No, he holds a much higher position, doesn't

he?

Yes, yes, much higher.

Tell me.

I don't know if I should.

Go on.

Tell us his rank and you'll be rewarded.

He holds the position of minister first rank

of a special department in the secret operative

directorate of the central, central, central...

Section number five.

Oh, okay.

Good.

Well, I'll take it from here.

Brush his teeth.

Balance him right.

Wash his face a little bit.

Straight to bed.

He just likes to go straight to bed.

And now, the uppermost story of the complex.

High above the perimeter wall, a room with

a singular view.

Its aspect so commanding, it is said to

afford unobstructed insight.

The hour is late, and our mysterious guest

is fast asleep.

Unbeknownst to him, three figures have entered and

are conspiring under cover of darkness.