Anyone Who's Not Having Fun Here, Follow Me.

Anyone Who's Not Having Fun Here, 

Follow Me. 

The West Wing: Joey Lucas explains how numbers can lie to Josh

JOEY [KENNY] 

They're just preliminary numbers.

Josh sits down with a sigh and puts his feet on his desk.

JOSH 

They're not gonna change.

JOEY 

No.

JOSH 

Five day waiting period...

JOEY [KENNY] 

It tested well nationwide.

JOSH 

Yeah.

JOEY [KENNY] 

58%.

JOSH 

I didn't need nationwide. I needed those five districts. 

Now we're gonna have to dial down the gun rhetoric in the Midwest.

JOEY 

Why Not Dial it Up?

JOSH 

Because These Numbers just told us that...

JOEY [KENNY] 

You Don't Know What These Numbers Just Told You -- 

I'm an expert --

and I don't know What These Numbers Just Told You.

JOSH 

We know.

JOEY 

Really?

Kenny sits next to Joey.

JOSH 

Numbers Don't Lie.

JOEY [KENNY] 

They Lie All The Time. 

They Lie when 72% of Americans say 

They're Tired of a Sex Scandal, 

while all the while, 

Newspaper Circulation goes through the roof 

for anyone featuring the story. 

If you polled a hundred Donnas and asked them if they think we should go out, you'd get a high positive response. 

But, The Poll wouldn't tell you 

it's because she likes you. 

And she's knows it's beginning to show and she needs to cover herself with misdirection.

Josh stares blankly at Joey.

JOSH 

Believe me when I tell you 

That's Not True.

JOEY [KENNY] 

You say that these numbers mean dial it down. 

I say they mean dial it up. 

You haven't gotten through. 

There are people you haven't persuaded yet. 

These numbers mean dial it up. 

Otherwise you're like the French radical watching the crowd run by and saying 

"There go My People --

I must find out where they are going so I can Lead Them."

Josh sits quietly with a thoughtful look on his face.

JOSH [distracted] 

Yeah.

JOEY [KENNY] 

We'll go through the rest of the numbers in the morning.

Josh looks at her with a confused smile.

JOSH [to Kenny] 

Ok.

Joey smiles and they leae. Josh sits with a bemused expression.

Cut to Family Home. The camera shows a small rectangular pool of what looks like black tar, and pans up from it to Ken and Lily walking into the room. Ken: We come to this station to wash away the past. Go ahead, kneel. He indicates the edge of the pool, and Lily kneels down. Ken squats next to her. Ken: We let the water run over the sin and the pain and the uncertainty. Lily: 

It looks kinda . . . dirty. 

Ken: (smiles)

Yeah. 

Cut to the front door of Family Home. 

A man comes up to the door where another man is already listening to Buffy talk. 

Buffy: 

You know, I just . . . I woke up, and I looked in the mirror, and I thought, "hey, what's with all the sin? I need to change. I'm . . . I'm dirty. I'm, I'm bad with the . . . s*x and the envy and that, that loud music us kids listen to nowadays. W--" (sees that the guy isn't buying it) Oh, I just suck at undercover. Where's Ken? The man tries to slam the door closed, but she kicks it open and it slams into his face instead. She marches in. Cut to Ken and Lily. She reaches down to the black water in the pool. For a moment she hesitates, but then puts her hand in. The liquid is thick and pitch-black, and her hand disappears in it. Buffy swings open the door, banging it loudly into the wall. Ken looks at her and stands up. Ken: This is a private moment. If you could just-- Buffy: How do you make 'em old, Ken? Do you feed on youth? What's the deal? Ken: Do you really wanna know? Lily: (looks back) What's going on? Buffy is surprised to see Lily there. Suddenly something grabs Lily. She screams as she is pulled into the pool and disappears into the black slime. Buffy runs to help, but Ken grabs her and chokes her with his arm around her neck. Buffy grabs his arm and tries to snap her body back to make him release her, but instead they just both fall into the pool as well. Cut to a dimly lit passageway. Buffy and Ken fall out of a black pool in the ceiling. Buffy briefly looks up at the pool, then looks around to see where she is. She sees Lily leaning against the wall holding her head. Buffy: Lily. She rolls over onto her hands and knees and quickly crawls over to Lily. Ken is faring worse, apparently hurt in the fall. Lily: (in pain) Oh . . . Buffy looks up at the pool in the ceiling. The waves from her fall through it are beginning to dissipate. Ken: Oh, my face! Buffy looks over at Ken. Ken: Ow! My face! He turns toward them and begins to pull his face and his hair off. Ken: Do you have any idea how hard it is to glue that thing on?! Beneath his mask Ken's face is red and his head is bald. There appear to be pieces of skin missing from his forehead, revealing the even redder flesh beneath. Lily begins to panic. Buffy starts to get to her feet and tries to pull Lily up with her. Ken stands up. Ken: (yells) Guards! Buffy takes Lily's hand and begins to run, pulling her along. Two guards show up. Their faces are even more mangled and raw-looking than Ken's. One of the guards hands Ken a club. They begin to pursue the girls. Buffy and Lily run through a maze of halls and come out on a ledge that overlooks what looks like a large iron works. There are huge vats of molten metal, sparks are flying through the air from one side, and it is hot and smoky. Buffy looks closer, and in the shadows sees people being used as slave labor, kept in line by more guards with whips. The camera pans through the place showing zombie-like humans pounding the metal on anvils, pushing wheelbarrows from place to place and swinging sledgehammers. Some of them cough hard as they work. The guards watch and crack their whips every so often. Ken comes up behind Lily as she takes in the scene. Ken: Welcome to my world. I hope you like it. Buffy and Lily look back at him. He hits Buffy hard in the face with his club, knocking her out. Ken: (to Lily) You're never leaving. He smiles and licks his lips.

Cut to Ken's world. Buffy is lying on the floor in a cell. Lily is sitting on the floor behind her leaning against a pillar. Buffy regains consciousness, rolls onto her side and feels her head where Ken hit her. No blood, but she is still a bit dazed. Buffy: Oh. Unh . . . (slowly sits up) Lily? Lily: I always knew I would come here . . . sooner or later. I knew I belonged here. Buffy: (looks around) Where? Lily: Hell. Buffy: (turns her head toward Lily) This isn't Hell. Ken: (appears at the bars) Isn't it? Buffy spins her head around to look at Ken, but quickly regrets moving it so fast. Buffy: (in pain) Unh . . . (rubs her forehead) Ken: What is Hell but the total absence of hope? The substance, the tactile proof of despair. You're right, Lily. This is where you've been heading all your life. Just like Rickie. Lily: Rickie? Ken: He forgot you. Well, it took him a long time. He remembered your name years after he'd forgotten his own. But, in the end-- Lily: Years? But-- Ken: Oh. Uh, interesting thing: time moves more quickly here than in your reality. A hundred long years will pass here. On Earth, it's just a day. Buffy: So you just work us till we're too old and spit us back out. Ken: That's the plan. See, Lily, you'll die of old age before anyone wonders where you went. Not that anyone will, that's why we chose you. Buffy: You didn't choose me. 

Ken: 

No. But . . . I know you . . . *Anne*. 

So afraid. So pathetically determined to run away from whatever it is you used to be. 

(Buffy looks away) 

To Disappear. Congratulations. 

(Buffy looks at him again) 

You got Your Wish. 

Cut to a personnel elevator. The huge steel door splits open, the upper half rising, the lower half sinking. A group of young slaves including Buffy and Lily is herded out. Buffy trips and falls to the floor. The other slaves stop walking. 

A guard starts to explain things to the new recruits as Buffy slowly gets back to her feet. 

Guard: 

You Work, and You Live. 

That is all. 

The guard has even less skin on his head than Ken. He's wearing a hood that looks like it's made of human skin sewn together. 

His chin and cheeks are exposed flesh and muscle, and he has no lips covering his teeth. Buffy is standing again, holding her head in pain. 

Guard: 

You Do Not Complain or Laugh or Do Anything besides Work. 

Whatever You Thought, 

Whatever You Were, Does Not Matter. 

You are No-one, now. 

You Mean Nothing. 

The guard walks to one end of the group and faces the boy standing there. 

Behind them the elevator doors close with a slam. 

Guard: 

Who are you? 

Aaron: (afraid) 

Aaron. 

The guard whales hard on him with his club, and the boy grunts in pain and falls to the floor unconscious. 

Buffy immediately sobers, and stares intensely ahead. 

The guard advances to Lily. 

Guard: 

Who are you? 

Lily: (whimpers) 

No-one. 

The guard continues to the next person. 

Guard: 

Who are you? 

Boy#2: (fearfully) 

No-one. 

The guard reaches Buffy. 

Guard: 

Who are you? 

She looks up at him for a moment, 

and then smiles : --

Buffy: 

(friendly) 

I'm Buffy -- The Vampire Slayer. 

And you are? 

The guard is incensed at her insubordination, and roars as he wields back his club to strike her. He swings at Buffy, but she sidesteps him and grabs his arm as he bends over from his follow-through. 

Buffy slams her other forearm down on the guard's, breaking it. 

He falls to the floor in pain. She picks up his club and swings it at another guard, striking him in the head. She swings again the opposite way at a third guard, hitting him in the gut. 

They both fall unconscious. 

Buffy looks over at the group of would-be slaves. 

Buffy:

Anyone Who's NOT Having Fun Here, Follow Me. 

She starts to run, and the group follows her.

Alien³ - The Story of America

Alien³ - What Happened On The Sulaco [HD]

Buffy: 

These things happen ALL the time. 

You can't just . . . close your eyes and 

hope that they're gonna go away. 

Lily: (has another Thought--

....she begins to entertain it --)

.......is it 'cause of you? 

Buffy: 

(confused) 

What? 

Lily: 

You know about . . . monsters and stuff. 

You could have brought this with you. 

Ripley : 

Was there an ALIEN on board..?!

BISHOP : 

•YES•

Ripley : 

....is it on The Sulacco..? 

Or did it come with Us on the EEV?

BISHOP : 

It was with Us, 

All The Way.

The Forum for Action -- Not a Place of Things

The Arrest of Victor Laszlo | Casablanca | HBO Max

Rick:

Don't you sometimes wonder if it's worth all this? 

I mean what you're fighting for.

Victor Laszlo:

You might as well question Why We Breathe. 

If we stop breathing, we die.

 

If we stop fighting our enemies, The World will die.

Rick:

Well, what of it? 

It'll be out of its misery.

Victor Laszlo:

You know how you sound, Mr. Blaine? 

Like a man who's trying to convince himself of something he doesn't believe in his heart.

LAND

The Great Reset: Is Bill Gates TOO Powerful?

LEX LUTHOR,

Greatest Criminal Mastermind of Our Age :

At last, it's Official --

 

Thanks to The Generous Help of The United States Government, we will pull off 

The Greatest Real-Estate Swindle of all Time. 

Miss Teschmacher :

Lex, what is this obsession with Real Estate? 

All the time, "land, land, land." 

LEX LUTHOR,

Greatest Criminal Mastermind of Our Age :

Miss Teschmacher, when I was 6 years old, 

My Father said to me --

Miss Teschmacher :

"Get Out."  ?

Before That. He said, 

"Son, Stocks may Rise and Fall.

Utilities and Transportation Systems may collapse. 

People are No Damn Good. 

But They will always need Land... 

and They'll pay through The Nose to get it.

Remember," My Father said... 

“Land.”

Right. 

It's a pity that he didn't see from such humble beginnings how I've created This Empire. 

An Empire? This? 

Miss Teschmacher, how many girls do you know who have a Park Avenue address like this one? 

Park Avenue address? 

Two hundred feet below. 

Do you realise what people are shelling out up there for a few miserable rooms off a common elevator? 

What more could anyone ask? 

Sunshine? A night on the town instead of under it?

Otis?

Yes? 

Did you feed the babies? 

Not... Not today, Mr Luthor. 

Otis, feed the babies.

Mr Luthor, please.

Otis. Relax. 

Your babies weren't hungry, Mr Luthor. 

Lex, you're sick. 

You are really sick. 

You would take a diaper pin to cut a baby's throat. 

You'd fix the brakes on your own grandmother's wheelchair. 

I don't know, just explain one thing to me, Lex. 

Why do I love you so much? 

Because life with me is never dull. 

No, it's never dull, Lex... 

because you are the pits. 

You're really the pits. 

If I succeed, many, many months, perhaps years, will pass before you and I may meet.

 

FRANKENSTEIN;

OR, THE

MODERN PROMETHEUS.

To Mrs. Saville, England.

St. Petersburgh, Dec. 11th, 17—.

You will rejoice to hear that no disaster has accompanied the commencement of an enterprise which you have regarded with such evil forebodings. I arrived here yesterday; and my first task is to assure my dear sister of my welfare, and increasing confidence in the success of my undertaking.

I am already far north of London; and as I walk in the streets of Petersburgh, I feel a cold northern breeze play upon my cheeks, which braces my nerves, and fills me with delight. Do you understand this feeling? This breeze, which has travelled from the regions towards which I am advancing, gives me a foretaste of those icy climes. Inspirited by this wind of promise, my day dreams become more fervent and vivid. I try in vain to be persuaded that the pole is the seat of frost and desolation; it ever presents itself to my imagination as the region of beauty and delight. There, Margaret, the sun is for ever visible; its broad disk just skirting the horizon, and diffusing a perpetual splendour. There—for with your leave, my sister, I will put some trust in preceding navigators—there snow and frost are banished; and, sailing over a calm sea, we may be wafted to a land surpassing in wonders and in beauty every region hitherto discovered on the habitable globe. Its productions and features may be without example, as the phænomena of the heavenly bodies undoubtedly are in those undiscovered solitudes. What may not be expected in a country of eternal light? I may there discover the wondrous power which attracts the needle; and may regulate a thousand celestial observations, that require only this voyage to render their seeming eccentricities consistent for ever. I shall satiate my ardent curiosity with the sight of a part of the world never before visited, and may tread a land never before imprinted by the foot of man. These are my enticements, and they are sufficient to conquer all fear of danger or death, and to induce me to commence this laborious voyage with the joy a child feels when he embarks in a little boat, with his holiday mates, on an expedition of discovery up his native river. But, supposing all these conjectures to be false, you cannot contest the inestimable benefit which I shall confer on all mankind to the last generation, by discovering a passage near the pole to those countries, to reach which at present so many months are requisite; or by ascertaining the secret of the magnet, which, if at all possible, can only be effected by an undertaking such as mine.

These reflections have dispelled the agitation with which I began my letter, and I feel my heart glow with an enthusiasm which elevates me to heaven; for nothing contributes so much to tranquillize the mind as a steady purpose,—a point on which the soul may fix its intellectual eye. This expedition has been the favourite dream of my early years. I have read with ardour the accounts of the various voyages which have been made in the prospect of arriving at the North Pacific Ocean through the seas which surround the pole. You may remember, that a history of all the voyages made for purposes of discovery composed the whole of our good uncle Thomas’s library. My education was neglected, yet I was passionately fond of reading. These volumes were my study day and night, and my familiarity with them increased that regret which I had felt, as a child, on learning that my father’s dying injunction had forbidden my uncle to allow me to embark in a sea-faring life.

These visions faded when I perused, for the first time, those poets whose effusions entranced my soul, and lifted it to heaven. I also became a poet, and for one year lived in a Paradise of my own creation; I imagined that I also might obtain a niche in the temple where the names of Homer and Shakespeare are consecrated. You are well acquainted with my failure, and how heavily I bore the disappointment. But just at that time I inherited the fortune of my cousin, and my thoughts were turned into the channel of their earlier bent.

Six years have passed since I resolved on my present undertaking. I can, even now, remember the hour from which I dedicated myself to this great enterprise. I commenced by inuring my body to hardship. I accompanied the whale-fishers on several expeditions to the North Sea; I voluntarily endured cold, famine, thirst, and want of sleep; I often worked harder than the common sailors during the day, and devoted my nights to the study of mathematics, the theory of medicine, and those branches of physical science from which a naval adventurer might derive the greatest practical advantage. Twice I actually hired myself as an under-mate in a Greenland whaler, and acquitted myself to admiration. I must own I felt a little proud, when my captain offered me the second dignity in the vessel, and entreated me to remain with the greatest earnestness; so valuable did he consider my services.

And now, dear Margaret, do I not deserve to accomplish some Great Purpose. 

[ note : -- NOT a Question. ]

My Life might have been passed in Ease and Luxury; but I preferred Glory to every enticement that Wealth placed in my path. 

Oh, that some encouraging voice would answer in the affirmative! 

[ He's Talking to Himself -- That much is certain. Does he even have a (Living) Sister named Margaret back in England...? It is a moot point, seeing as how he never gets back there. or to anywhere where there may be some means or opportunity for him to actually post  any of his letters, here chronicled after he departs port in Arkangel, bound for The Pole but given that even a completely successful  voyage of exploration in these polar regions, where no dry land is to be found and navigation, even celestial navigation applyed in conjunction with Dead Reckoning in the vast, frozen, EMPTY White Void could easily be lost for easily anywhere between 3-5 Years, and with cholera, smallpox, no indoor plumbing back home in England, PLUS, the  very real and highly likely risk of a Young Newlywed Woman either dying in childbirth, or from subsequent complications, opportunistic infections and The Like -- attitudinally, even if there is a real, living Margaret left being by young Master Walton, having gone To Sea, he may as well be addressing his wad of unsent letters to his long-dead stillborn infant Twin Sister.  Or, Tyler Durden. It's all The Same to him, either way -- one does not expect God to respond in person to field Your Questions and convene an impromptu Press Conference to explain Herself and His Plan to you during prayer, just because you want to talk to Someone in Charge, wish to speak with Your Supervisor and demand to See The Manager -- The Obligation, as we all know (I Would Hope),  runs The Other Way. ] 

My Courage and My Resolution is firm; but my hopes fluctuate, and my spirits are often depressed. I am about to proceed on a long and difficult voyage; the emergencies of which will demand all my fortitude: I am required not only to raise the spirits of others, but sometimes to sustain my own, when their’s are failing.

This is the most favourable period for travelling in Russia. They fly quickly over the snow in their sledges; the motion is pleasant, and, in my opinion, far more agreeable than that of an English stage-coach. The cold is not excessive, if you are wrapt in furs, a dress which I have already adopted; for there is a great difference between walking the deck and remaining seated motionless for hours, when no exercise prevents the blood from actually freezing in your veins. 

I have no ambition to lose my life on the post-road between St. Petersburgh and Archangel.

I shall depart for the latter town in a fortnight or three weeks; and my intention is to hire a ship there, which can easily be done by paying the insurance for the owner, and to engage as many sailors as I think necessary among those who are accustomed to the whale-fishing. I do not intend to sail until the month of June: and when shall I return? Ah, dear sister, how can I answer this question? If I succeed, many, many months, perhaps years, will pass before you and I may meet. If I fail, you will see me again soon, or never.

Farewell, my dear, excellent, Margaret. Heaven shower down blessings on you, and save me, that I may again and again testify my gratitude for all your love and kindness.

Your affectionate brother,

R. Walton.

Each person carries in himself his own Destiny.

Arthur : 

Merlin, what have I done?!

Merlin :

You have •broken• — 

What could not •be• broken..!!

Arthur : 

Hope is Broken. 

My Pride broke it. 

My Rage broke it. 

This Excellent Knight — 

who fought with Fairness and Grace 

was •meant• to win. 

I used Excalibur to 

CHANGE That Verdict. 

I have lost, for all time 

The Ancient Sword of My Fathers...

Whose Power was meant to unite ALL Men, 

not to serve The Vanity of A Single Man. 

I am — NOTHING. 

"There is, of course, a scientific reason for all forms of divination practised without hope or promise of reward. 

Each person carries in himself His Own Destiny. Events do not happen to people by chance, but are invariably the result of some past cause. For instance, in the last years a man becomes a soldier who had never intended to pursue a military career. 

This does not happen to him by chance, but because of the prior occurrence of la European war in which his country was engaged. 

The outbreak of war is similarly the result of other causes, none of which happened by chance, but were founded by still remoter occurrences. 

It is the same with The Future. 

That which a person does today as a result of something that happened in the past, will in its turn prove the cause of something that will happen at some future date. 

The mere act of doing something today sets in motion forces that in process of time will inevitably bring about some entirely unforeseen event.

This event is not decreed by Fate or Providence, but by the person who by the committal of some act unconsciously compels the occurrence of some future event which he does not foresee. 

In other words, a man decrees his own destiny and shapes his own ends by his actions, whether Providence rough-hew them or not. 

Now this being so, it follows that he carries His Destiny with him, and the more powerful his mind and intellect the more clearly is this seen to be the case. 

Therefore it is possible for a person's mind, formed as the result of past events over which he had no control, to foresee by an effort what will occur in the future as the result of acts deliberately done. 

Since it is given to but few, and that not often of intention, to see actually what is about to happen in a vision or by means of what is called the 'second sight,' some machinery must be provided in the form of symbols from which an interpretation of the future can be made. 

It matters little what the method or nature of the symbols chosen is — dice or dominoes, cards or tea-leaves. 

What matters is that the person shaking the dice, shuffling the dominoes, cutting the cards or turning the tea-cup, is by these very acts transferring from his mind where they lie hidden even from himself the shadows of coming events which by his own actions in the past he has already predetermined shall occur in the future. 

It only remains for someone to read and interpret these symbols correctly in order to ascertain something of what is likely to happen; and it is here that singleness of purpose and freedom from ulterior motives are necessary in order to avoid error and to form a true and clear judgment.

This is the Serious and Scientific Explanation of the little-understood and less-comprehended action of various forms of Divination having for their object the throwing of a little light upon the occult. 

Of all these forms perhaps Divination by Tea-Leaves is the simplest, truest, and most easily learned. 

Even if the student is disinclined to attach much importance to what he sees in the cup, the reading of the tea-leaves forms a sufficiently innocent and amusing recreation for the breakfast- or tea-table; and the man who finds a lucky sign such as an anchor or a tree in his cup, or the maiden who discovers a pair of heart-shaped groups of leaves in conjunction with a ring, will be suffering no harm in thus deriving encouragement for the future, even should they attach no importance to their occurrence, but merely treat them as an occasion for harmless mirth and badinage.

******

The ritual to be observed is very simple. 

The tea-drinker should drink the contents of his or her cup so as to leave only about half a teaspoonful of the beverage remaining. 

He should next take the cup by the handle in his left hand, rim upwards, and turn it three times from left to right in one fairly rapid swinging movement. 

He should then very slowly and carefully invert it over the saucer and leave it there for a minute, so as to permit of all moisture draining away.

If he approaches The Oracle at all seriously he should during the whole of these proceedings concentrate his mind upon his future Destiny, and 'will' that the symbols forming under the guidance of his hand and arm (which in their turn are, of course, directed by his brain) shall correctly represent What is Destined to Happen to Him in The Future.

If, however, he or she is not in such deadly earnest, but merely indulging in a harmless pastime, such an effort of concentration need not be made. 

The 'willing' is, of course, akin to 'wishing' when cutting the cards in another time-honoured form of fortune-telling.

The cup to be read should be held in the hand and turned about in order to read the symbols without disturbing them, which will not happen if the moisture has been properly drained away. 

The handle of the cup represents the consultant and is akin to the 'house' in divination by the cards. 

By this fixed point judgment is made as to events approaching the 'house' of the consultant, journeys away from home, messages or visitors to be expected, relative distance, and so forth. 

The advantage of employing a cup instead of a saucer is here apparent.

'The bottom of the cup represents the remoter future foretold; the side events not so far distant; and matters symbolised near the rim those that may be expected to occur quickly. 

The nearer the symbols approach the handle in all three cases the nearer to fulfilment will be the events prognosticated.

If this simple ritual has been correctly carried out the tea-leaves, whether many or few, will be found distributed about the bottom and sides of the cup. 

The fortune may be equally well told whether there are many leaves or few; but of course there must be some, and therefore the tea should not have been made in a pot provided with one of the patent arrangements that stop the leaves from issuing from the spout when the beverage is poured into the cups. 

There is nothing to beat one of the plain old-fashioned earthenware teapots, whether for the purpose of preparing a palatable beverage or for that of providing the means of telling a fortune.”

What Would The Emissary of The Prophets Do?

A : Get Measured for a New Suit.

Garak Warn Dukat About The Klingon Fleet

[Ops]

DAX: 

Captain, I think you'd better take a look at this. 

(Klingon ships are cloaking and leaving.) 

SISKO: 

Report. 

DAX: 

As soon as General Martok beamed back to his ship, 

he sent a message to the Klingon fleet. 

It was just one word :

In'Cha. 

WORF: 

Begin. 

O'BRIEN: 

I'm picking up a huge distortion wave in subspace. 

The Klingon ships are going to warp. 

KIRA: 

Can you plot their course? 

O'BRIEN: 

Judging from the vector of the subspace disturbance I'd say their heading is two six nine mark zero three two. 

SISKO: 

Straight to the Cardassian Empire.

[Wardroom]

SISKO: 

The Federation Council has been trying to contact Gowron. 

So far, they've had no response. 

So until they've had a chance to speak with him, 

we've been ordered not to get involved. 

KIRA: 

The Bajoran Government has agreed to abide by the decisions of the Federation Council. 

BASHIR: 

So that means we're not going to 

warn The Cardassians? 

DAX: 

The Klingons are still our allies. 

If we warn the Cardassians, we'd be betraying them. 

O'BRIEN: 

Besides, what if The Klingons are right?

 

What if The Dominion has taken over The Cardassian Government? 

ODO: 

If My People wanted to seize control of Cardassia, 

that is how they would do it. 

KIRA: 

The coup could have happened just as easily without The Founders. 

The Cardassian dissident movement has been gathering strength for years. 

With The Obsidian Order out of the way, they might have finally succeeded. 

WORF: 

The Issue is not if there are any Founders on Cardassia. 

There are many Klingons who say 

We have been at Peace too long, 

that The Empire must Expand,

In Order to Survive. 

Fear of The Dominion has given 

My People an excuse to Do 

What They were Born to Do —

To Fight and To Conquer. 

SISKO: 

If they're so Eager to Fight, 

who's to say They'll stop 

with The Cardassians. 

KIRA: 

Their next target could be anyone. 

Even The Federation. 

DAX: 

If I were you, I'd be 

more worried about Bajor —

Think about it :

What Good would it Do for 

The Klingons to defeat Cardassia, 

if They don't control The Wormhole? 

WORF: 

Agreed. If My People return to The Old Ways, 

no one will be safe. 

SISKO: 

Then We'll Have to Make Sure 

That Doesn't Happen. 

O'BRIEN: 

But How? 

The way I see it, we only have got 

Two Choices : 

Both of Them BAD. 

If We Stand By and Do Nothing, 

we run the risk of being the Klingons' next target. 

But if We Disobey Starfleet Orders and 

Warn The Cardassians, 

we may end up 

Starting A War with The Klingons. 

The SISKO : 

Which means --

We Need a THIRD Option.

Three Rabbis : Marshak The Wise

My Son, Herschel, was first in his yeshiva class --

He was voted 

'Most Likely to Hear God.'! 

Go on, Hyman, you're exaggeratin' again!

A Rabbi Never Exaggerates! 

A Rabbi Composes, He Creates Thoughts... 

He Tells Stories That May Never Have Happened... 

But He Does Not Exaggerate!

Three Rabbis : The Rabbi Nachtner

Rabbi Nachtner: 

You know Lee Sussman?

Larry Gopnik: 

Doctor Sussman? I think I - yeah.

Rabbi Nachtner: 

Did he ever tell you about the goy's teeth?

Larry Gopnik: 

No... I- What goy?

The Rabbi Nachtner: 

So... Lee is at work one day; you know 

he has the orthodontic practice 

there at Great Bear. 
He's making a plaster mold - it's for 

corrective bridge work - in the mouth 

of one of his patients, Russell Kraus. 
The mold dries and Lee is 

examining it one day before 

fabricating an appliance. 

He notices something unusual. 
There appears to be something engraved on 

the inside of the patient's lower incisors. 

He vav shin yud ayin nun yud. 

"Hwshy 'ny". 

"Help me, save me". 

This in a goy's mouth, Larry. 

He calls the goy back on the pretense of needing 

additional measurements for the appliance. 

"How are you? 

Noticed any other problems 

with your teeth?

“No.”

There it is. 

"Hwshy 'ny".

 "Help me". 

Son of a gun. 

Sussman goes Home. 
Can Sussman eat? 
Sussman can't eat. 
Can Sussman sleep? 
Sussman can't sleep. 

Sussman looks at the molds of his other patients, 

goy and Jew alike, seeking other messages. 
He finds none. 

He looks in his 

own mouth. 

Nothing. 

He looks in his 

wife's mouth. 
Nothing. 

But Sussman is 

an educated man. 

Not the world's greatest sage, 

maybe, no Rabbi Marshak, 

but he knows a thing or two 

from The Zohar and 

The Kabbalah.

He knows that every Hebrew letter 

has its numeric equivalent. 

8-4-5-4-4-7-3. 

Seven digits... a phone 

-number, maybe? 

"Hello? Do you know a goy 

named Kraus, Russell Kraus?"

 Who?

 "Where have I called? 

The Red Owl in Bloomington. 

Thanks so much." 

He goes. It's a Red Owl. 

Groceries; what have you. 

Sussman goes home. 
What does it mean? 
He has to find out if he 

is ever to sleep again. 
He goes to see... 

The Rabbi Nachtner. 
He comes in, he sits right where 

you're sitting right now. 

"What does it mean, Rabbi? 

Is it a sign from Hashem, 'Help me'? 

I, Sussman, should be doing 

something to help this goy? 

Doing what? The teeth don't say. 

Or maybe I'm supposed 

to help people generally, 

lead a more righteous life? 

Is the answer in Caballah? In Torah? 

Or is there even a question? 

Tell me, Rabbi, what can such a sign mean?"

[pause as the Rabbi drinks his tea]

Larry Gopnik: 

So what did you tell him?

Rabbi Nachtner: 

Sussman?

Larry Gopnik: 

Yes!

Rabbi Nachtner: 

Is it... relevant?

Larry Gopnik: 

Well, isn't that why you're telling me?

Rabbi Nachtner: 

Okay. Nachtner says, look : 
The teeth, we don't know. 
A sign from Hashem? Don't know. 
Helping others... couldn't hurt.

Larry Gopnik: 

No! No, but... who put it there? 
Was it for him, Sussman, or for whoever found it, or for just, for, for...

Rabbi Nachtner: 

We can't know everything.

Larry Gopnik: 

It sounds like you don't know anything! Why even tell me the story?

Rabbi Nachtner: 

[chuckling] First I should tell you, then I shouldn't.

Larry Gopnik: 

What happened to Sussman?

The Rabbi Nachtner : 

What would happen? Not much. 
He went back to work. 
For a while he checked 

every patient's teeth 

for new messages. 

He didn't find any. 

In time, he found 

he'd stopped checking. 

He returned to Life. 
These Questions that 

are bothering you, Larry - 

maybe they're like 

A Toothache. 
We feel them for a while, 

then they go away.

Larry Gopnik: 

I don't want it to 

just go away! 
I want An Answer!

The Rabbi Nachtner : 

Sure! We all want The Answer! 
But Hashem doesn't owe us 

The Answer, Larry. Hashem doesn't owe us anything. 
The Obligation runs 

the other way.

Larry Gopnik: 

Why does He make us 

feel The Questions if 

He's not gonna give us 

any Answers?

Rabbi Nachtner: 

He hasn't told me!

[Larry puts his face in 

his hands in despair]

Larry Gopnik: 

And... what happened 

to The Goy?

Rabbi Nachtner: 

The Goy...? 

Who cares?

These are the Members 

of The Airplane.