Isomorphism

Before The Law, 

There Stands A Guard. 

BEFORE THE LAW :

Before The Law, 

There stands A Guard. 

A Man comes from The Country, 

begging admittance to The Law. 

But The Guard cannot admit him. 

May he hope to enter at a later time? 

That is possible, said The Guard. 

The Man tries to peer through The Entrance. 

He'd been taught that The Law was to be accessible 

to every Man. 

"Do not attempt to enter without My Permission", 

says The Guard. 

"I am very Powerful. 

Yet I am The Least of all The Guards. 

From Hall to Hall, 

Door after Door, 

Each Guard is more Powerful 

than The Last.”

By The Guard's Permission, 

The Man sits by The Side of The Door, 

and there he waits. 

For YEARS, He waits. 

Everything He has, 

He gives away in The Hope of bribing 

The Guard, who never fails to Say to Him : 

“I Take What You Give Me, 

only so that You Will Not Feel 

that You Left Something Un-Done." 

Keeping His Watch during the long years, 

The Man has come to know 

even The Fleas on The Guard's fur collar. 

Growing childish in old age, 

He begs the fleas to persuade The Guard 

to change His Mind and Allow Him to Enter. 

His Sight has dimmed, but in The Darkness 

He perceives a radiance streaming immortally 

from The Door of The Law. 

And now, before He dies, 

all He's experienced condenses into one Question, 

A Question He's never asked. 

He beckons The Guard. 

Says The Guard, 

"You are insatiable! 

What is it now?" 

Says The Man, 

"Every Man strives to attain The Law. 

How is it then that in all these years, 

no one else has ever come here, 

seeking admittance?" 

His Hearing has failed, 

so The Guard YELLS into His Ear :

"Nobody Else but You 

could EVER have 

obtained admittance. 

No-one else could 

Enter This Door!" 

"This Door," He Says,

"was intended,  

ONLY for YOU! 

And, Now — 

I'm going to close it." 

This Tale is Told during 

The Story called 

"The Trial". 

It's been said that 

The Logic of This Story 

is The Logic of a Dream... 

Or a Nightmare.

BOUC :

Poirot. I need your help, my friend. 

You have to find who did this. 

Please, I implore you, on behalf 

of The Orient Express. 

When The Police arrive, 

we can present them 

with the case closed. 

You are the only one who can Save Me. 

Hercule Poirot :

Your Faith touches me, mon cher. 

But I must have this rest. 

BOUC :

Well, think of it as a little 

beachside puzzle. 

That's nothing to your mind! 

You look up the antecedents 

of the passengers. 

You establish their bona fides. 

Then you do What You Do. 

You... You... You... 

You sit in a chair and you eat your cake... 

and you think until the solution presents itself. 

What else are you going to do 

while we sit here in the snow? 

Without constant stimulation, 

your little gray cells will 

starve and die. 

Hercule Poirot :

You think that is what I do? 

I sit in a chair and I have a little piece of cake, 

and then I come up with a great idea? 

BOUC :

I don't know what you do. 

Hercule Poirot :

I have my Dickens. 

BOUC :

Damn your Dickens! 

If we leave this to The Police, 

they will choose a culprit, 

Right or Wrong, 

and they will hang him. 

Most probably Mr. Marquez, 

for no other reason than 

his name is 'Marquez'. 

Or Dr. Arbuthnot for the colour of his skin. 

You are the only one who 

can bring Justice. 

Hercule Poirot :

.....let me have a map of this coach. 

BOUC :

Of course. 

Hercule Poirot :

Every passport. 

BOUC :

Anything. 

Hercule Poirot :

Interviews arranged with 

all of our passengers. 

Evidence, Order and Method, 

until one culprit emerges. 

I do not approve of Murder, my friend. 

Every day, we meet people The World 

could do better without 

yet We Do Not Kill Them. 

We must be better than The Beasts. 

So let us find this Killer. 

Jordan Peterson pulls Christianity out of Sam Harris' reductionist hat

"Because -- a Forgery that is materially the same as a great masterpiece, is essentially worthless."

No. It's Priceless. Because you cannot sell it. It's worth a very great deal, indeed.

Miss Debenham :

It's freezing! 

Are we stuck? 

You asked for me? 

Another interrogation? 

Hercule Poirot :

Oh, no. I enjoy your company. 

Merci, Bouc. 

Uh, please. I have a list of 10 Questions 

I am no nearer to answering, 

and the train is about to leave. 

You have a clear mind, and I thought that you might produce an insight. Please. 

Miss Debenham :

Hmm. 

"The Handkerchief." 

"The Pipe Cleaner."

"The Scarlet Kimono." 

"The Uniform." 

"The time on The Watch." 

"Was he murdered then?" 

"Earlier or later?" 

"By one person or more?" 

"Which of them?" 

Sorry, I can't help you. 

Hercule Poirot :

Uh... Merci. 

Miss Debenham :

Perhaps there is 

An Eleventh Question 

you don't know to ask yet 

that will give you 

The Answer to the rest.

WHY AREN'T YOU DEAD, YET? 

Hercule Poirot :

Perhaps. I could point an easy finger 

at the, uh, Countess Andrenyi. 

I discovered she was 

Sonia Armstrong's sister. 

Are you certain? 

Hercule Poirot :

Yes. I suspect she may perhaps 

be innocent. Perhaps. 

But so many people have lied to me on this train and do not seem to mind. 

You yourself did so effortlessly. 

Me? 

Hercule Poirot :

You told me you had 

never been to America. 

You also concealed the fact that 

at the time of The Tragedy, you 

were living in The Armstrong Household 

as Governess to Their Daughter. 

And you know this. 

I have my living to get. 

A Girl detained in connection 

to a murder case, no decent 

class family would engage me. 

Miss Debenham, you planned 

Ratchett's murder. 

And then you sent for 

The Countess to witness it. 

If she saw him dead, 

the Helena you knew might return. 

You waited for your roommate to sleep, 

but she did not. You drugged her. 

But the barbital only gave her a headache. 

She begged for an aspirin when The Train

stopped, when The Conductor 

was on The Station, when the coast w

as clear at last, when you were 

allowed to enter 

Ratchett's compartment, unseen. 

You loved Daisy Armstrong. 

You killed Cassetti. 

Miss Debenham :

Cassetti was a pig. 

He deserved to die. 

You read The Bible, Ringo? 

Not regularly, no. 

Well, there's this passage I got memorized. 

Ezekiel 25:17. 

"The Path of The Righteous Man 

is beset on all sides 

by the inequities of The Selfish 

and The Tyranny of Evil Men. 

Blessed is he, who in the name 

of Charity and Good Will, 

shepherds The Weak 

through The Valley of Darkness, 

for he is truly His Brother's Keeper 

and The Finder of Lost Children.

And I will strike down upon thee with great Vengeance and furious anger those who attempt to poison and destroy my brothers. 

And you will know I am the Lord... 

when I lay my vengeance upon you." 

Now, I been sayin' that shit for years — 

and if you heard it, that meant your ass. 

I never gave much thought 

to what it meant. 

I just thought it was some coldblooded shit to say to a motherfucker before I popped a cap in his ass. 

But I saw some shit this morning 

made me think twice. 

See, now I'm thinkin' maybe it means... 

You're The Evil Man, and 

I'm The Righteous Man, 

and Mr. 9-millimeter here, 

he's The Shepherd, protecting 

my righteous ass in 

The Valley of Darkness. 

Or it could mean... 

You're The Righteous Man, 

and I'm The Shepherd, 

and it's The World that's 

Evil and Selfish.

Yeah, I'd like that. 

But that shit ain't The Truth. 

The Truth, is —

YOU’RE The Weak... 

and I'm The Tyranny, 

of Evil Men. 

But I'm tryin', Ringo. 

I'm tryin' real hard... 

To be The Shepherd. 

Go. 

It appears there are no end to the lies manufactured just for me.

-- Hercule Poirot