Entertainment

 

“There is some confusion 

as to what Magic actually is. 

I think this can be cleared up 

if you just look at 

the very earliest 

descriptions of Magic. 

Magic in its earliest form 

is often referred to as “The Art”. 

I believe this is 

completely literal. 

I Believe that Magic is Art 

and that Art, whether it be Writing, 

Music, Sculpture, or any other form 

is literally Magic.

 Art is, like Magic, 

The Science of manipulating 

Symbols, Words, or 

Images, to achieve 

Changes in Consciousness. 

The very language about magic 

seems to be talking as much about 

writing or art as it is about 

supernatural events. 

A grimmoir for example, 

the book of spells 

is simply a fancy way 

of saying grammar. 

Indeed, to cast a spell, 

is simply to spell, 

to manipulate words, 

to change people's consciousness. 

And I believe that this is why an artist or writer is the closest thing in the contemporary world that you are likely to see to a Shaman.

I believe that all Culture must have arisen from Cult. 

Originally, all of the facets of our culture, 

whether they be in the arts or sciences 

were the province of the Shaman.

The fact that in present times, this magical power has degenerated to the level of cheap entertainment and manipulation, is, 

I think, a tragedy. 

At the moment the people 

who are using 

Shamanism and Magic 

to shape our culture 

are advertisers. 

Rather than try 

to wake people up, 

their Shamanism 

is used as an opiate 

to tranquillise people, 

to make people more manipulable. 

Their magic box of television, 

and by their magic words, 

their jingles 

can cause everyone 

in the country 

to be thinking 

the same words 

and have 

the same banal thoughts 

all at exactly 

the same moment. 

In all of magic there is an incredibly large linguistic component. 

The Bardic tradition of Magic 

would place a bard 

as being much higher 

and more fearsome 

than A Magician. 

A Magician might curse you —

That might make your hens lay funny 

or you might have 

a child born with a club foot. 

If a Bard were to place not a curse upon you, but a satire, 

then that could destroy you. 

If it was a clever satire, 

it might not just destroy you 

in the eyes of your associates; 

it would destroy you 

in the eyes of your family. 

It would destroy you 

in your own eyes. 

And if it was a finely worded and clever satire 

that might survive and be remembered for decades, 

even centuries. 

Then years after you were dead people still might be reading it 

and laughing at you 

and your wretchedness 

and your absurdity. 

Writers and people who had command of words 

were respected and feared as people who manipulated magic. 

In latter times I think that 

artists and writers 

have allowed themselves 

to be sold down the river. 

They have accepted 

the prevailing belief 

that art and writing 

are merely forms 

of entertainment. 

They’re not seen as transformative forces 

that can change a human being; 

that can change A Society. 

They are seen as 

simple entertainment; 

things with which we can 

fill 20 minutes, half an hour, 

while we’re waiting to die. 

It’s not the job of The Artist 

to give The Audience 

What The Audience WANTS.

If The Audience knew 

what they needed, 

then they wouldn’t 

be The Audience —

they would be The Artists. 

It is The Job of Artists 

to give The Audience 

what they need.

— Alan Moore

“A vaudeville was originally 

a comedy without psychological or moral intentions, 

based on a comical situation : a dramatic composition or light poetry, 

interspersed with songs or ballets.”

[Big Top]

(It is dark and quiet as The Doctor and Ace enter. They whisper to each other.)

ACE: 

Professor.

Time's Champion : 

Yes?

ACE: 

I can't see a thing.

Time's Champion : 

Neither can I.

ACE: 

And the cheering's stopped.

Time's Champion : 

Perhaps we're between performances. 

Let's see if we can find a seat.

(The Doctor feels his way to the stands and climbs the steps. He stubs his toe.)

ACE: 

Found somewhere to sit, Professor?

Time's Champion : 

That's one way of looking at it, 

if we could see. Over here.

ACE: 

What?

Time's Champion : 

I said, over here.

(They settle down.)

Time's Champion : 

In a moment, our eyes'll 

get used to The Darkness.

ACE: 

Assuming there's 

anything worth seeing.

(There is a rustling noise nearby.)

Time's Champion : 

Listen.

(On the row above them sits a 1950's family, 

Father, Mother 

and a little girl between them. 

They are eating a noisy snack.)

GIRL: 

Daddy. Daddy.

DAD: 

What?

GIRL: 

I want an ice cream.

DAD: 

You've already had one.

GIRL: 

But Daddy.

DAD: 

I told you once 

and I'm not going to 

tell you again. 

Now shut up and 

eat your popcorn.

Time's Champion : 

We're not alone.

ACE: 

Yeah, but it looks like 

it's just Us and Them. 

What a con. 

I mean, where's 

Mags and the Captain?

Time's Champion : 

Perhaps they haven't arrived yet. 

Who knows? 

Anyway, I'm going to have 

an ice cream.

MUM: 

They should be 

starting up again soon. 

Have a crisp, Father.

Time's Champion : 

Greetings. 

Not many in today, are there. 

Are you regulars 

or is this your first visit, too?

 Let me introduce myself. I'm —

(The Mother holds out the bag of crisps.)

Time's Champion : 

Oh, thank you very much. 

Delicious.

(The circus music starts and the lights come up.)

ACE: 

Professor. Professor, it's starting.

Time's Champion : 

Well, it's been a pleasure.

(The Doctor returns to sit with Ace as the ring fills with tumbling and juggling clowns.)

Time's Champion : 

Remarkable.

ACE: 

If you like this sort of thing.

Time's Champion : 

No, no, I mean the memorial stones. 

Do you see them? Look.

(Placed at intervals around the ring are old carved stones. 

The Ringmaster enters and the clowns freeze.)

RINGMASTER: 

Now welcome folks, 

I mean that from the heart, 

because The Greatest Show 

is about to start. 

It's happening right here 

before your very eyes 

and one thing's for sure, 

you're in for quite a surprise. 

But then, nothing's quite 

as it seems to be at 

The Greatest Show in the Galaxy.

(The Ringmaster adjusts the controls in the back of one clown and it does a somersault.)

RINGMASTER: 

Now welcome folks, 

we've got a brand new act. 

He's a real find and no doubt 

that's a fact. 

He'll entertain you, 

he'll make you stare, 

and our great new act 

is seated over there…!

(The spotlight falls on the Doctor.)

Time's Champion : 

Oh, thank you, but —

RINGMASTER: 

Come on, Doctor. Don't be shy.

Time's Champion : 

Well, I'm not really sure 

that I should.

RINGMASTER: 

Oh, no false modesty. 

We know you're Good.

Time's Champion : 

Well, this is most unexpected. 

Are you sure you want me?

RINGMASTER: 

There's no mistake, Doc. 

Come on in. Feel free.

ACE: 

Don't go, Professor.

Time's Champion : 

Why, what harm could it do?

RINGMASTER: 

Exactly. But the decision's up to you.

(Wearing a big grin, the Doctor pushes past Ace and hurries down the ring, to canned applause.)

ACE: 

No, Doctor!

(The Doctor has barely got into the ring when the clowns start throwing their clubs past him, front and back.)

Time's Champion : 

Well, you certainly didn't waste any time. 

I had expected to see what the opposition was up to 

before I put myself forward for the talent contest.

(Ace tries to run out of the Big Top but is surrounded by clowns behind the seating where the Doctor cannot see.)

Time's Champion : 

But since you insist.

RINGMASTER: 

Oh, we do, but no doubt 

you'd like to get yourself 

prepared first.

Time's Champion : 

Well, yes, I —

RINGMASTER: 

Let me show you and your charming assistant to your dressing room.

Time's Champion : 

Oh, thank you very much. Ace!

CLOWN: 

Where did you find that earring?

ACE: 

Are you a robot too?

CLOWN: 

No.

ACE: 

Pity.

CLOWN: 

So tell me where you found it.

(Ace gets away.)

CLOWN: 

After her.

[Backstage]

RINGMASTER: 

Right this way, Doctor.

Time's Champion : 

Thank you very much, but where's Ace? I don't think she —

RINGMASTER: 

Oh, she'll be coming.

CAPTAIN [OC]: Iniphitus, where the Galvanic Catastrophods are not what they were.

(The Doctor looks through to where the Captain is drinking tea and talking at a bored Nord while Mags is staring at nothing.)

CAPTAIN: 

No, but they're still worth a look if you're doing a tour of the southern nebula and have an eon or two to spare. You. Well, well.

Time's Champion : Captain Cook, I presume. So you had arrived after all.

CAPTAIN: 

But of course. Come and join us, Doctor. It's one big happy family here, eh, Nord?

NORD: Except when you're gassing on.

Time's Champion : Well, I don't really think I

CAPTAIN: Nonsense, we're having a ball here.

Time's Champion : Very well then. Mags. Do sit down, Doctor.

(Mags give up her seat next to the Captain and pours out some tea.)

Time's Champion : Thank you very much.

CAPTAIN: Yes, there we are. Comfy?

Time's Champion : Yes.

CAPTAIN: That's the spirit.

(Bars slide down over the entrance, then the curtains are all pulled back to reveal that the quartet are actually in a - )

[Cage]

CAPTAIN: Anything the matter, old chap?

Time's Champion : It's a trap! I've fallen into a trap! I've fallen for it.

CAPTAIN: Yes, I know, old boy. Never mind. Have some tea. A very similar thing happened to me once, you know.

(Ace uses the pin of the earring to slash the billowing fabric of the backstage corridors and hide from the pursuing clowns.)

Time's Champion : Why?

CAPTAIN: Why what?

Time's Champion : Why let me be trapped? It's so pointless. I could have saved you, Nord and Mags.

CAPTAIN: I wouldn't be too sure about that, Doctor. These circus chappies are pretty smart customers for all their let it all hang out mumbo jumbo.

MAGS: Maybe we could have escaped if we'd made a break for it there and then. If only you'd

CAPTAIN: Now, now, Mags. No use in getting upset, and that's an order.

Time's Champion : What about you? I mean, why didn't you speak up?

(Nord growls. The Doctor growls back.)

Time's Champion : What kind of answer's that?

CAPTAIN: Save your energy, Doctor. You'll soon see why. Anyway, all of us in here have developed a survival philosophy, which is why we welcomed you in.

Time's Champion : 

What is all this, then? 

I thought there was 

a talent contest going on.

CAPTAIN: 

Well, yes, but in a way 

it's more like a survival of the fittest.

(A man in a suede jacket pushes a broom round the outside of the cage.)

CAPTAIN: 

Oh, that's Deadbeat. 

Yes, he does odd jobs about the place, 

makes the tea for me, things like that. 

Don't bother too much about him, though. 

Fellow's mind's completely gone.

DEADBEAT: 

Gone. Gone. Oh really gone. 

All really gone down the road again.

[Cage]

(The zapping noise can be heard and the strobing lights seen.)

Time's Champion : 

Is this what you saw before?

MAGS: Not exactly, but just as bad.

(There is a peal of thunder then a big flash, and smoke. The Ringmaster picks up a piece of charred leather from the middle of the ring to canned applause.)

Time's Champion : Would you let something like that happen to you?

MAGS: Would you?

[Ticket office]

WHIZZKID: It must be awfully exciting working for the Psychic Circus, Morgana. Particularly when you did your tour of the Boreatic Wastes. I think that most of your admirers would agree with me that that was one of your finest ever gigs. Well, in so far as you can tell from the posters

MORGANA: Would you like to be getting along inside?

WHIZZKID: You mean I can go in, just like that?

MORGANA: Yes. Go right now, please.

WHIZZKID: Oh wow!

[Cage]

(The Doctor is practising his juggling with Mags.)

CAPTAIN: Mags.

MAGS: What?

CAPTAIN: It's not going to work. I remember when I was on the baleful plains of Grolon, I

MAGS: I don't care.

Time's Champion : Ready?

(Mags and the Doctor go to the cage door, where a pair robot clowns stand guard.)

Time's Champion : I believe I'm on first.

MAGS: No, I'm ahead of you.

Time's Champion : No, you're not.

MAGS: No, I am.

Time's Champion : I insist on going out first.

MAGS: Oh no, you don't.

Time's Champion : Oh yes, I do!

[Big Top]

(The Ringmaster enters.)

RINGMASTER: Now listen folks, we have a great new act. He's a real find, there's no doubt that's a fact. He'll entertain you, he'll make you stare, and our great new act is seated over there!

(The spotlight finds Whizzkid.)

MUM: I hope he's better than the last one.

DAD: Couldn't be much worse.

GIRL: Mum, Mum.

MUM: Shut up and eat your popcorn.

[Cage]

Time's Champion : Look, I insist in going on first.

MAGS: I told you, I am.

Time's Champion : I am!

(The clowns come over and the door slides up. The Doctor and Mags knock them out with the clubs.)

Time's Champion : Join the club. Captain?

CAPTAIN: 

No thanks, old boy. I'll sit this one out. 

Goodbye, Mags.

MAGS: 

Bye, Captain.

ckstage]

Time's Champion : 

Something dreadful's 

happening in the ring. 

Things are getting out of control 

quicker than I expected.

DAD [OC]: 

Calling The Doctor. 

Calling the Doctor.

Time's Champion : 

Nothing will satisfy Them 

but my presence.

MAGS: 

I'm coming back in there with you.

Time's Champion : 

No. You must run and get 

Ace and Deadbeat.

(Mags runs off.)

Time's Champion : 

I must prepare for my entrance. 

Never keep your audience waiting.

(The clowns chase Mags outside, then they head for the hearse. Down in the well, the eye gets bigger.)

[Ticket office]

(A wind starts to blow.)

Time's Champion : 

I'm coming. 

Open a pathway for me. 

Once small step for mankind, 

one great leap, 

or words to that effect —

(The Doctor pulls apart the canvas entrance to the Circus and steps into a kaleidoscope world of noise and colour. He fights his way through with gritted teeth to -)

[Arena]

(A semi-circular sand floor, grey stone walls with one grilled doorway, and three large figures sitting on thrones looking down.)

Time's Champion : 

And here we all are at last. 

I'm surprised you brought me here. 

It must be very difficult for you, 

trying to exist concurrently 

in two different time spaces. 

I know the problem myself. 

No wonder those memorial stones looked familiar. 

The Gods of Ragnarok, 

I presume.

[By the snack stall]

(The stallholder has hitched the stall to her horse and is manoeuvring it to turn round. Mags jumps over the hitch and keeps running.)

STALLHOLDER: 

Don't you frighten my horse like that, you hippie weirdo.

(The hearse has to stop and sound its horn.)

STALLHOLDER: 

Shut up, circus riff-raff. 

You don't own this planet, you know.

[Arena]

Time's Champion : 

How many people have you destroyed, I wonder, 

before Kingpin 

was lured down here. 

Poor Kingpin. 

That's what you like, isn't it. 

Taking someone with a touch 

of individuality and imagination, 

and wearing them down to nothingness 

in Your Service.

DAD: 

Enough.

MUM: 

You have said enough.

Time's Champion : 

Enough? I've hardly started. 

I have fought 

The Gods of Ragnarok 

all through time.

(The Doctor looks at his watch.)

DAD: 

You are in our true 

time space now, Doctor. 

There is no appeal beyond its confines to any other.

Time's Champion : 

Don't tell me what you want me to do. 

Let me guess. Now let me see. 

You want me to —

DAD: 

Entertain us.

MUM: 

Entertain us.

DAD: 

Or die. So long as 

you entertain us, you may live.

MUM: 

When you no longer 

entertain us, you die.

Time's Champion : 

Predictable as ever, 

Gods of Ragnarok. 

As I think it's been said before, 

or was it after? Anyway, 

You ain't seen nothin' yet.

(The Doctor leans and swings round at a remarkable angle.)

[Segonax]

(Ace and Deadbeat meet Mags.)

ACE: 

Hey, Mags! 

Where's The Doctor?

MAGS: 

Back at the circus.

ACE: 

So you're on your own now?

MAGS: 

Not exactly. Look.

(Here comes the hearse. Mags sees the completed medallion.)

MAGS: 

That's what they're after.

DEADBEAT: 

Oh, I might have guessed.

ACE: 

So how do we get it back to The Doctor? 

Oh, dumbo! Not you two, me. 

I've got an idea. Come on!

MAGS: 

Wrong way!

ACE: 

Not for this. 

Come on, Kingpin!

[Arena]

(The Doctor has a table in front of him, with a large pan and its cover.)

Time's Champion : 

Thank you very much, 

Ladies and Gentlemen, 

for that overwhelming reception. 

And now, I would like to begin 

like Life, at The Beginning. 

But how did Life begin? 

Was it with a chicken 

or was it with -

DAD: 

What?

(The Doctor produces an egg from his mouth and puts it in the pan. Then a second one which goes into his hand and disappears.)

MUM: 

Don't try our patience.

(She throws a lightning bolt near the Doctor.)

DAD: 

Don't play games.

Time's Champion : 

You're not interested in beginnings.

 You're only interested in endings.

[Campsite]

MAGS: 

Oh no, not that thing again. 

Come on.

DEADBEAT: 

Dumbo. Bellboy's robot.

ACE: 

Dead right, Kingpin.

(The three hide behind the robot as the hearse pulls up and the clowns run out.)

CLOWN: 

Bellboy's greatest mistake. 

What a place to choose. 

You may have The Eye again, Deadbeat, 

but you won't use it. 

You know that. 

You're not strong enough! 

You weren't before.

DEADBEAT: 

At least I tried. 

You just gave in.

CLOWN: 

Yes, and I shall get my reward. 

Last chance, Deadbeat. 

We really believed in all that talk 

of Peace and Love

ACE: 

This thing had better work, 

or I'll kick its head in.

(Ace jabs at the remote control. After a few moments, the robot lasers one of the robot clowns, then the other three. Finally it kills the clown himself and keeps firing as Ace keeps pushing buttons. Then it goes quiet.)

MAGS: 

For a moment I thought you weren't going to be able to make it stop.

ACE: 

Funny you should say that.

DEADBEAT: 

He used to be a great clown.

ACE: 

I've never liked clowns.

[Arena]

(To the strains of Narcissus being played on a violin, the Doctor produces a length of rope and ties the ends together.)

Time's Champion : 

What, no complaints? 

No arguments? 

No thunderbolts?

(The rope falls into a single length with the knot still in it.)

DAD: 

No, Doctor.

MUM: 

We're not concerned that 

You're Playing for Time.

(The Doctor has untied the knot and is now fastening the two pieces of rope together. Then he stands on a loose end and pulls it into a single piece of rope again.)

DAD: 

We have A Saying :

Time's Champion : 

Let me guess —

Give yourself enough rope 

and you hang yourself.

(The Doctor looks at his watch again.)

[Campsite]

ACE: 

Kingpin.

DEADBEAT: 

I only hope we make it in time. 

The Doctor's stronger than I ever was, 

but even he can't hold out against them forever.

(Mags, Ace and Deadbeat get into the hearse.)

ACE: 

He'll have a good stab at it, though.

[Arena]

DAD: 

You are nearing 

The End, Doctor.

Time's Champion : 

A piece of rope 

has two ends, 

Father Ragnarok.

(The Doctor coils the rope into the pan. 

Then he produces a long candle from his handkerchief and lights it with a flame apparently from his palm. 

He puts the lit candle to the pan with bursts into flames, 

briefly puts the cover over it to extinguish them and removes a snake from it. 

Mum throws a thunderbolt.)

MUM: 

Feel the rain, Doctor.

DAD: 

Feel the chill in your bones.

(The Doctor turns around and the snake turns into his umbrella. He puts it up just before the downpour starts.)

[By the Ticket Office]

(The wind is still howling. Ace stops to look at the crystal ball.)

DEADBEAT: 

Ace, quick! Come on!

[Arena]

(The Doctor is attempting to escape from a strait-jacket whilst hanging by his ankles from a rope.)

DAD: 

Doctor.

Time's Champion : 

Yes?

DAD: 

You are trifling with us.

Time's Champion : 

Really? I thought 

I was entertaining you.

(He gets the strait-jacket off.)

DAD: 

You are on the brink 

of Destruction, Doctor. 

We want something bigger, something better.

Time's Champion : 

Do you, now?

[Big Top]

(Deadbeat, Mags and Ace run into the deserted ring.)

ACE: 

The Doctor must be here somewhere.

DEADBEAT: 

Well, he may already be in 

The Dark Circus with The Gods. 

If so, there's only one way 

we can reach him.

MAGS: 

The Stone Chamber.

ACE: 

And the medallion?

DEADBEAT: 

Yeah. We must be careful. 

They're bound to sense its presence.

[Arena]

(The Doctor is back on his feet.)

Time's Champion : 

Do I have your full attention?

(He checks his wrist watch.)

[Ticket Office]

DEADBEAT: 

You do realise that 

They'll try anything to stop us?

ACE: 

Yes. Let's go.

(Behind the advertising boards, the Captain sits up from the stretcher and puts on his pith helmet.)

[Arena]

Time's Champion : 

The climax of My Act, 

Gods of Ragnarok, 

requires something 

You Do Not Possess 

in great abundance. 

That is, Imagination. 

And it starts with 

A Piece of Metal. 

This Piece of Metal 

once belonged to 

A Sword, 

and that Sword 

belonged to 

A Gladiator.

(The Doctor throws the piece of metal into the air, where it transforms into a gladius, and then a long sword drops into his hand.)

Time's Champion : 

And That Gladiator 

fought and died 

in this ring to 

entertain you.

[Stone chamber]

(Deadbeat stops at the well.)

ACE: 

Go for it, Kingpin.

(But the Eye is staring back up at him. He backs away.)

MAGS: 

Kingpin, please.

ACE: 

Well, one of us had better try.

(Deadbeat holds out the medallion and shuts his eyes. The Captain hits him in the kidneys and catches the medallion as he falls.)

CAPTAIN: 

Perhaps I might relieve you of that.

MAGS: 

Captain, I thought 

You were Dead.

CAPTAIN: 

I am, my dear. I am.

[Arena]

Time's Champion : 

I have fed you enough, 

Gods of Ragnarok, 

and you found 

what I have to offer indigestible. 

So I have taken myself 

off The Menu. 

La comedia e finita.

DAD: 

We Command You.

MUM: 

You Cannot Stop.

Time's Champion : 

I already have.

DAD: 

Then You Will Die.

Time's Champion : 

Probably not --

It's all a matter of Timing, 

don't you know.

(The Doctor points The Sword to The Ground.)

[Stone chamber]

ACE: 

Oi, sarcophagus face!

(The Captain turns and Mags kicks the medallion out of his hand and into the well. It lands on the sword and the Doctor uses it to reflect the Gods' Thunderbolts back at Them.

The Eye in the well grows.)

DEADBEAT: 

Quick.

CAPTAIN: 

You know, when I was on 

The Planet Periboea, 

I met someone who walked around 

when he was already dead. 

I must say, as an experience 

I'd say it's very overrated.

(The Captain falls into the well.)

[Ticket office]

DEADBEAT: 

Look. Get down!

(The crystal ball explodes.

In the arena, the Gods stop firing laser bolts at the Doctor and slump in their seats. The walls crack and buckle. The Doctor throws the sword and medallion at them then raises his hat as the whole place falls apart.

The Big Top crumples as the arena disintegrates. The Doctor walks out and doesn't flinch as an explosion occurs just behind him.)

[Segonax]

(A huge red pillar of smoke climbs to the sky. The Stallholder speaks to her horse.)

STALLHOLDER: 

It's what I've always said --

No consideration for those of us that live here.

[Outside the Circus]

Time's Champion : 

Enjoying The Show, Ace?

ACE : 

Yeah. It was Your Show all along, wasn't it?

MAGS: 

The Captain really is finished now, isn't he?

Time's Champion : 

Yes. But you're just about to start.

DEADBEAT: 

Doctor, I've been thinking.

Time's Champion : 

What better way for a circus to begin 

than with a wonderful new act.

ACE: 

Yeah, weird and wonderful. Nice one, Professor. You'll knock them dead.

MAGS: 

That's just what I'm afraid of. 

What if I can't control it?

Time's Champion : 

Oh, you can, Mags. 

You already have.

DEADBEAT: 

What about it, Doctor? You and Ace. 

Join Kingpin's new circus 

and travel The Galaxy with us.

Time's Champion : 

Thank you, Kingpin, but I'm afraid we've got other galaxies to travel. And besides, I find circuses a little sinister.

You, My Dear, Cannot POSSIBLY Exist, So Go Away!

[Black void]

(Tegan comes across a metal structure, then two people sitting at a small round table playing a game similar to draughts. They glow white. The woman is dressed in Tudor style, with a big ruff framing her head. The man's ruff is very small around his neck.) 

TEGAN: 

Hello.

(The woman replies.) 

ANATTA: 

You, my dear, 

cannot possibly exist, 

so go away.

TEGAN: 

Look, hello. 

ANATTA: 

Did You see...? 

ANICCA: 

...why, did You? 

ANATTA: 

I asked first. 

ANICCA: 

So You did see!

ANATTA: 

...it proves nothing. 

Just because an illusion 

is shared doesn't mean --

ANICCA: 

-- of course not. 

ANATTA:

 Besides, How Do I Know 

That What You Think You See --

ANICCA: 

-- is What You Think You see? 

ANATTA: 

Or vice --

(As they both move pieces on their game board, we see they have the image of a snake on their forearms.) 

ANICCA: 

--versa. 

ANATTA: 

Exactly. 

(A younger man appears behind Tegan, laughs, and vanishes. 

The two figures recede into the distance.) 

ANICCA: 

...I can only conclude it is you 

who have invented her 

as a means of putting me 

off My Game.....

Jones

Jones

surname, literally "John's (child);" see John. Phrase ‘keep up with the Joneses’ (1917, American English) is from ‘Keeping Up with the Joneses, the title of a popular newspaper comic strip by Arthur R. "Pop" Momand (1886-1987) which debuted in 1913 and chronicled the doings of The McGinnis Family in its bid to match the living style of The House of Jones

The slang sense "intense desire, addiction" (1968) probably arose from earlier use of Jones as a synonym for "heroin”.

Related: Jonesing.

analyst] What were you feeling at that point?

What was I feeling? I felt either I’m having a mental breakdown again or I’m living inside a computer-generated reality that has imprisoned me… again. [laughs]

[chuckles softly]

Not much of a choice.

No.

Maybe it’s not as binary as that. Maybe there are other ways to understand what happened.

Yeah.

Thomas, you are a suicide survivor gifted with a powerful imagination. Those facts have combined to create dangerous fictions in your life. Yesterday, you walked into a meeting with your business partner and he ambushed you, demanding you make a game you said you would never make. This attack effectively took away your voice. His violence triggered you and your mind fought back. You did to him what he was doing to you. We’ve talked about the value of adaptive anger in healing trauma. Far from suggesting a repeat of your initial breakdown, I believe this episode demonstrates healthy self-protection. And more importantly, I remember how hard it was for you to share something like this. Which tells me just how far we’ve come.

[chuckles softly]

Do you need a refill on your prescription?

[sighs] Yeah.

[pills rattle]

Smith

[ominous music playing]

Sorry. Uh, it’s The Boss.

“Billions of people just living out their lives… oblivious.” 

I always loved that line. 

You wrote that one, yeah? 

Every time I stand here, 

I mean, O-M-G. It’s so perfect, 

it’s gotta be fake. Right?

[chuckles softly] 

Yeah. Sure.

Have a seat.

[man sighs]

Smoke?

I thought you quit.

I quit calling it a habit. 

Now it’s just a guilty pleasure.

Oh. Maybe I can make this easy for you. I know Binary is over budget.

This is not about Binary, Tom. 

It’s bigger than that.

 This is about our future, 

which is a sticky subject, 

given our past.

What do you mean?

How’s the therapy?

Good.

Any… episodes?

No.

That’s terrific. 

Look, Tom, I know we’ve always 

had our differences. 

What did you say about 

our first meeting? 

We had all the chemistry 

of an FBI interrogation.

[muffled yell]

[scoffs]

But look at this place. 

We did this. Together.

Yeah.

Now what? Things have changed. The market’s tough. 

I’m sure you can understand why our beloved parent company, Warner Bros., has decided to make 

a sequel to the trilogy.

What?

They informed me 

they’re gonna do it 

with or without us.

I thought they couldn’t do that.

[exhales] 

Oh, they can. 

And they made it clear 

they’ll kill our contract 

if we don’t cooperate.

Really?

I know you said 

The Story was over for you, 

but that’s The Thing About Stories —

They never really end, do they? 

We’re still telling the same stories we’ve always told,

 just with different names, 

different faces 

and I have to say 

I’m kind of excited. 

After all these years, to be going back to where it all started. 

Back to The Matrix. 

I’ve spoken to Marketing…

[sinister music playing]

[distorted voice]

[in normal voice] 

Tom?

Yeah.

Are you all right?

[exhales nervously] 

Yeah.

What Do You Want, Smith?

What IS Smith?

He is YOU. 

Your Opposite, Your Negative, 

The Result of The Equation 

trying to 

balance itself out.

You never appreciated Our Relationship. 

Not like The Analyst.

The what?

My Doctor.

He used our bond and turned it into A Chain. 

It’s so obvious once you see it, right? 

But this whole altered-code update really blew my mind. 

I still don’t know how he did it. 

You, as a balding nerd. Hilarious. And Me… [sighs] even more perfect. 

Maybe a little too far on the piercing blue eyes. 

What do you think?

What Do You Want, Smith?

I have such dreams, Tom. Big dreams. 

Well, mostly just extremely violent revenge fantasies,

but in order for me to pursue mine, 

I need to dissuade you from pursuing yours.

Hmm. Sounds like — 

Conflict.

Inevitable? Doesn’t have to be. 

All you have to do is stay out of The Matrix, 

and leave The Good Doctor to Me.

You can have him. I’m here for Trinity.

That’s the trouble, Tom — 

He knew you’d come, just like I did.

[scoffs]

Trust Me. You’re not ready for him.

Captain, I’m reading portals from the lower frequencies.

I won’t have His Leash on My Neck again.

I found some old acquaintances of yours.

Bugs!

What if I can’t stop him?

One way or another, Neo, 

This War is going to END. 

Tonight, the future of BOTH worlds 

will be in YOUR hands… 

or in HIS.

Clubbable

“The Diogenes Club is the queerest club in London, and Mycroft one of the queerest men. He’s always there from quarter to five to twenty to eight. It’s six now, so if you care for a stroll this beautiful evening I shall be very happy to introduce you to two curiosities.”

Five minutes later we were in the street, walking towards Regent’s Circus.

“You wonder,” said my companion, “why it is that Mycroft does not use his powers for detective work. He is incapable of it.”

“But I thought you said—”

“I said that he was my superior in observation and deduction. If the art of the detective began and ended in reasoning from an armchair, my brother would be the greatest criminal agent that ever lived. But he has no ambition and no energy. He will not even go out of his way to verify his own solutions, and would rather be considered wrong than take the trouble to prove himself right. Again and again I have taken a problem to him, and have received an explanation which has afterwards proved to be the correct one. And yet he was absolutely incapable of working out the practical points which must be gone into before a case could be laid before a judge or jury.”

“It is not his profession, then?”

“By no means. What is to me a means of livelihood is to him the merest hobby of a dilettante. He has an extraordinary faculty for figures, and audits the books in some of the government departments. Mycroft lodges in Pall Mall, and he walks round the corner into Whitehall every morning and back every evening. From year’s end to year’s end he takes no other exercise, and is seen nowhere else, except only in the Diogenes Club, which is just opposite his rooms.”

“I cannot recall the name.”

“Very likely not. There are many men in London, you know, who, some from shyness, some from misanthropy, have no wish for the company of their fellows. Yet they are not averse to comfortable chairs and the latest periodicals. It is for the convenience of these that the Diogenes Club was started, and it now contains the most unsociable and unclubable men in town. No member is permitted to take the least notice of any other one. Save in the Stranger’s Room, no talking is, under any circumstances, allowed, and three offences, if brought to the notice of the committee, render the talker liable to expulsion. My brother was one of the founders, and I have myself found it a very soothing atmosphere.”

We had reached Pall Mall as we talked, and were walking down it from the St. James’s end. Sherlock Holmes stopped at a door some little distance from the Carlton, and, cautioning me not to speak, he led the way into the hall. Through the glass paneling I caught a glimpse of a large and luxurious room, in which a considerable number of men were sitting about and reading papers, each in his own little nook. Holmes showed me into a small chamber which looked out into Pall Mall, and then, leaving me for a minute, he came back with a companion whom I knew could only be his brother.

Terminus

 But weren’t The Romans warlike? 

Yes, They were. They wanted to survive. 

A small consideration, easy to overlook. 

They were not, for most of their history, aggressive.

A strange thing to say, given that they rose from A Village in the hills near the mouth of the Tiber, to the capital of The Mediterranean World and beyond. But it’s True. 

Until the late and decadent years of The Republic, when generals like Marius and Sulla commandeered professional armies loyal to themselves (for they, and no longer The Senate, paid them in plunder and land), Rome usually didn’t go forth to seek wars. 

But Rome also didn’t duck any, either. 

This conservative attitude calls for explanation. Unlike most peoples at the time, Rome was not governed by A King who could increase his wealth, consolidate His Authority, and win an immortal name by military conquest. The consuls served for far too short a time to conduct a war of any magnitude; besides, there were two of them. 

And, as Polybius notes, it was the Senate’s prerogative “either to celebrate a general’s successes with pomp and magnify them, or to obscure and belittle them.” 

Until Rome was flooded by the wealth from the east after the Third Punic War (146 BC), The State depended for its economy and its political stability on the small landed farmer. This ideal is ingrained so deeply in the Roman mind that, even after the rise of The Empire under Augustus brought in cheap grain from Egypt and undercut the Italian farms, the poets Horace and Virgil still look upon it with nostalgia, Virgil writing four stupendous poems, his Georgics, on farming, animal husbandry, winemaking, and beekeeping, always with an eye to the political and theological lessons they suggest. 

But people who farm have little opportunity for professional warfare. 

The Romans expressed their deep conservatism by a reverence for limits : one of their more important (and unusual) gods was Terminus, god of boundary stones. 

This reverence extended to their oaths and treaties. Not that they didn’t interpret treaties favorably to themselves, and act accordingly. This they did most notoriously when they sought cause against their nemesis Carthage, picking the fight in the Third Punic War. 

But that reverence restrained them from engaging in the trickery they associated with Greece. 

Consider a story from the First Punic War.

A Roman general named Regulus was captured by the Carthaginians and brought to Africa. The Senate of Carthage charged him to return to Rome to present terms for peace. 

Regulus was to swear that, if Rome refused the terms, he would return to Carthage as A Prisoner and be executed. 

The Carthaginians depended upon his oath, and figured that, since he might prefer living to dying, he would persuade his fellow citizens to accept the treaty. 

Regulus went to Rome, persuaded his countrymen to reject The Treaty, and returned to Carthage, where he was tortured and put to death. 

Is the story True? There’s no evidence to suggest that it is not True. The Romans believed it, and held Regulus up as a model of Roman integrity and manhood. 

By contrast, they considered the mythical Odysseus, whom Homer calls “the man of many turnings,” a liar and a villain. “The inventor of impieties,” Virgil calls him (Aeneid 2.233). 

Rome won her wars and increased her territory. But it was centuries before she claimed control over Italy: as late as the fourth century BC, Gauls from beyond the Alps set fire to The City, assisted on their way by Gauls on the Italian side. 

But the real story in the Roman conquest of Italy is political, not military. That is, The Romans — unlike The Athenians — did something sensible after their victories over the Samnites, the Aequians, the Volscians, and most of the other rival states on the peninsula. They cleared out the few genuine enemies of Peace, ruthlessly punishing those who led armies against them. 

Then they incorporated the lands into the Roman state, usually granting citizenship to the leading families, and extending citizenship, on evidence of good behaviour, to the free men of The City. 

They made them Romans.  

PEACEFUL SLUMBERS FUNERAL HOME

(Same scene, Mulder's take on it)

MULDER VOICE OVER: 

Upon arriving at the funeral home I made an interesting observation. One which you apparently didn't hear.

MULDER TALKING TO MORTICIAN: 

That's a whole lot of caskets.

MORTICIAN: 

Largest in-stock selection 

in the state.

MULDER: 

Why would a town with a population of only 361 need that?

MORTICIAN: 

Repeat business. 

(He's the only one who chuckles) 

Mortician humor. 

Excuse me. 

(He leaves)

MULDER VOICE OVER: 

Apparently your mind was somewhere else. 

(Sheriff Hartwell walks in. Scully is dazzled)

SCULLY: 

Hoo, boy.

(Mulder's version is somewhat the same in appearance, except for when he speaks, he's got massive buck teeth)

HARTWELL: 

Y'all must be the gov'ment people. 

(Mulder makes a scared face with his lips apart like Mulder's version of poor Lucien) 

I'm Lucien Hartwell. 

(They all smile at each other, Lucien in welcome, Mulder in horror, and Scully with pleasure)

SCENE 17 

TODAY 

X FILES OFFICE

SCULLY: 

He had big buck teeth?

MULDER: 

He had a slight over bite.

SCULLY: 

No, he didn't. 

(Mulder shrugs) 

And that's significant? How?

MULDER: 

I'm just trying to be thorough. 

So, anyway, then we went 

to take a look at the body.

SCENE 18 

EXAMINATION ROOM

(During this same scene, Scully is swooning over the handsome sheriff with the horrific teeth)

HARTWELL: 

Here we go.

MULDER: 

(professionally) 

No exam has been done?

HARTWELL: 

No, sir. This is just like 

we found him in the motel room 

as is.

SCULLY: (Dreamily gazing at the sheriff, repeats) No exam has been done?

HARTWELL: Uh ... No, ma'am. Once I heard y'all was interested I figured we'd best leave it to the experts. (Scully smiles broadly) Now, uh ... that can't be what it looks like, right?

MULDER: That depends on what you think it looks like, Sheriff Hartwell. Vampires have always been with us, in ancient myths and stories passed down from early man. (Scully stands behind Mulder, smiling, eyes wide, rocks from side to side, goofing around) From the Babylonian Ekimu to the Chinese Kuang-Shi to Motetz Dam of the Hebrews, the Mormo of ancient Greece and Rome to the more familiar Nosferatu of Transylvania.

HARTWELL: Mormo. Yeah.

SCULLY: In short, Sheriff, no. This can't be what it looks like. I think what we're dealing with here is simply a case of some lunatic. (She chuckles) Who, uh, has watched too many Bela Lugosi movies. He wishes that he could transfigure himself into a creature of the night.

HARTWELL: Yeah. Okay. Uh ... what she said, that's what I'm thinking, and, uh ... Yeah. (Scully loves being right)

MULDER: Still, that leaves us in something of a quandary because there are as many different kinds of vampires as there are cultures that fear them. (Scully yawns and covers her mouth) Some don't even subsist on blood. The Bulgarian Ubour, for example, eats only manure.

SCULLY: (sarcastically) Thank you.

MULDER: To the Serbs, a prime indicator of vampirism is red hair. (raises his hand to Scully's head) Some vampires are thought to be eternal. Others are thought to have a life span of only 40 days. (Scully's pointing at her watch, rolling her eyes, carrying on.) Sunlight kills certain vampires while others come and go as they please, day or night.

(Scully sighs deeply from boredom).

SCULLY: If there's a point, Mulder, please feel free to come to it.

MULDER: My point is that we don't know exactly what we're looking for. What kind of vampire, or if you prefer, what kind of vampire this killer wishes himself to be.

(Mulder notices the untied shoes on the corpse and stands with his head between his feet)

SCENE 19 

TODAY X FILES OFFICE

SCULLY: Now, why is it so important that his shoes were untied?

MULDER: I'm getting to it.

CEMETERY - DAY

MULDER VOICE OVER: So, while you stayed behind to do the autopsy, the Sheriff drove me to the town cemetery.

(Hartwell opens the gate and they walk through. This cemetery is certainly not off the beaten path, the creepier the better)

HARTWELL: Agent Mulder, you mind me asking you why we're out here?

MULDER: Historically, cemeteries were thought to be a haven for vampires as are castles, catacombs and swamps, but unfortunately, you don't have any of those.

HARTWELL: We used to have swamps only the EPA made us take to calling them wetlands.

MULDER: Yeah. So, we're out here looking for any signs of vampiric activity.

HARTWELL: Which would be like, uh...?

MULDER: Broken or shifted tombstones. The absence of birds singing.

HARTWELL: There you go. Cuz I ain't hearing any birds singing. Right? Course, it's winter, and we ain't got no birds. Is there anything else?

MULDER: A faint groaning coming from under the earth. The sound of manducation -- of the creature eating its own death shroud.

HARTWELL: Nope. No manuh... ma-ma...

MULDER: Manducation.

HARTWELL: Manducation. No.

MULDER: Now, Sheriff, I know my methods may seem a little odd to you, but..

HARTWELL: Hey, look, y'all work for the federal guv'mint and that's all I need to know. I mean, CIA, Secret Service -- y'all run the show, so --

MULDER: It's just that my gut instinct tells me that the killer will visit this place. That it may well hold some fascination -- some kind of siren call for him, you know. (A horn honks)

RONNIE: Howdy, Sheriff.

(The teen delivery boy is in a red car on the street, a Gremlin)

HARTWELL: Oh, hey, Ronnie. How's it going?

RONNIE: Can't complain.

HARTWELL: Well, all right, then. (Ronnie drives off)

MULDER: Maybe after nightfall, Sheriff, but he'll come. Oh, he'll come.

(we watch the car drive off down the road)

SCENE 20 

CEMETERY - NIGHT

(Mulder looking around with his flashlight)

MULDER VOICE OVER: So, we staked out the cemetery.

SCENE 21 

TODAY X FILES OFFICE

SCULLY: Mulder, shoelaces?

MULDER: Hmm?

SCULLY: On the corpse. You were going to tell me what was meaningful about finding untied shoelaces.

MULDER: I'm getting to it.

SCENE 22 

CEMETERY - NIGHT

(Mulder is spreading sunflower seeds around the cemetery, he gets into Sheriff's car)

MULDER: Sunflower seed? (He accidently drops some) Sorry.

HARTWELL: No, thanks. Do you mind ... (he picks up a seed that fell from Mulder's bag and tosses it) do you mind me asking you what you were ...

MULDER: Historically, certain types of seeds were thought to fascinate vampires. Chiefly oats and millet, but you make do with what you have. Remember when I said before that we didn't know what type of vampire we were looking for?

HARTWELL: Yeah.

MULDER: Well, oddly enough, there seems to be one obscure fact which in all the stories told by the different cultures is exactly the same, and that's that vampires are really, really obsessive-compulsive. Yeah, you toss a handful of seeds at one, no matter what he's doing he's got to stop and pick it up. If he sees a knotted rope, he's got to untie it. It's in his nature. In fact, that's why I'm guessing that our victim's shoelaces were untied.

HARTWELL: Yeah, obsessive... Like Rain Man. (Mulder nods) It's like when that old boy dropped them matchsticks, he had to pick them all up. Same thing, right?

MULDER: Well, he didn't actually pick them up. He counted them.

HARTWELL: Oh, yeah. 247. Right off the top of your head.

MULDER: Well, if he had picked them up he would have been a vampire.

HARTWELL: Yeah. I'll tell you what. I know I'm in law enforcement, but I'd like to take him to Vegas myself. Am I right?

MULDER: Well, that would be illegal, right?

HARTWELL: He's like a little calculator.

MULDER: Yeah.

An Autistic God

ALL Gods are Autistic

Rain Man (2/11) Movie CLIP - Who's on First? (1988) HD

What is This, 

Why is He Doing That?

Whenever He gets nervous, 

He Does 'Hoo’s on First' --

 you know, Abbot & Costello?

WHY?  

It's HIS Way of Dealing 

with You TOUCHING His Things.

When Charlie Babbitt goes home to the Midwest 

for his estranged father's funeral, 

he learns not only that he's been 

cut out of his inheritance, 

but that he has a grown brother...

Raymond... who has been sheltered almost all of his life 

in an East Coast institution for the developmentally disabled. 

Raymond is an autistic savant...

a person who is severely limited 

in most mental areas 

but extremely gifted in others. 

After traveling to The Institution, 

Charlie kidnaps Raymond but then finds that 

Raymond will only fly Qantas.

 

The Two then begin a long cross-country odyssey 

in Their Father's 1949 Buick Roadmaster convertible... 

a trip that will lead them to Understanding and Love, 

and for Charlie a kind of Redemption.

Rain Man (3/11) Movie CLIP - You Memorized the Whole PHONE Book? (1988) HD

The Club

 

club (n.)

c. 1200, "thick stick wielded in the hand and used as a weapon," from Old Norse klubba "cudgel" or a similar Scandinavian source (compare Swedish klubba, Danish klubbe), assimilated from Proto-Germanic *klumbon and related to clump (n.). Old English words for this were sagol, cycgel. Specific sense of "bat or staff used in games" is from mid-15c.

The club suit in the deck of cards (1560s) bears the correct name (Spanish basto, Italian bastone), but the pattern adopted on English decks is the French trefoil. Compare Danish klr, Dutch klaver "a club at cards," literally "a clover."

The sense "company of persons organized to meet for social intercourse or to promote some common object" (1660s) apparently evolved from this word from the verbal sense "gather in a club-like mass" (1620s), then, as a noun, "association of people" (1640s).

We now use the word clubbe for a sodality in a tavern. [John Aubrey, 1659]

Admission to membership of clubs is commonly by ballot. Clubs are now an important feature of social life in all large cities, many of them occupying large buildings containing reading-rooms, libraries, restaurants, etc. [Century Dictionary, 1902]

I got a good mind to join a club and beat you over the head with it. [Rufus T. Firefly] 

Join the club "become one of a number of people having a common experience" is by 1944. 

Club soda is by 1881, originally a proprietary name (Cantrell & Cochrane, Dublin). Club car is from 1890, American English, originally one well-appointed and reserved for members of a club run by the railway company; later of any railway car fitted with chairs instead of benches and other amenities (1917). Hence club for "class of fares between first-class and transit" (1978).

The club car is one of the most elaborate developments of the entire Commuter idea. It is a comfortable coach, which is rented to a group of responsible men coming either from a single point or a chain of contiguous points. The railroad charges from $250 to $300 a month for the use of this car in addition to the commutation fares, and the "club" arranges dues to cover this cost and the cost of such attendants and supplies as it may elect to place on its roving house. [Edward Hungerford, "The Modern Railroad," 1911]

Club sandwich recorded by 1899 (said to have been invented at Saratoga Country Club in New York), apparently as a type of sandwich served in clubs, or else because its multiple "decks" reminded people of two-decker club cars on railroads.  

club (v.)

1590s, "to hit with a club," from club (v.). Meaning "gather in a club-like mass" is from 1620s. Related: Clubbed; clubbing. Also in a military sense (1806):

CLUB, verb (military). — In manoeuvring troops, so to blunder the word of command that the soldiers get into a position from which they cannot extricate themselves by ordinary tactics. [Farmer & Henley]

“You may think you have Rights,

you have NO Rights,

you have OWNERS —

They OWN You…!!

It’s a BIG Club — and 

You ain’t in it..!!”

— Carlin.

But where his rude hut by the Danube lay

There were his young barbarians all at play,

There was their Dacian mother. He, their sire,

Butcher'd to make a Roman holiday!

[Cage]

(The zapping noise can be heard and the strobing lights seen.)

Time's Champion : 

Is this what you saw before?

MAGS: 

Not exactly, but just as bad.

(There is a peal of thunder then a big flash, and smoke. The Ringmaster picks up a piece of charred leather from the middle of the ring to canned applause.)

Time's Champion : 

Would you let something like that happen to you?

MAGS: 

Would you?

[Ticket office]

The FanBoy : 

It must be awfully exciting working for the Psychic Circus, Morgana.

Particularly when you did 

your tour of the Boreatic Wastes.

 

I think that most of your admirers 

would agree with me that 

that was one of your finest ever gigs.

 

Well, in so far as you can tell 

from the posters

MORGANA: 

Would you like to be getting along inside?

The FanBoy :

You mean I can go in, 

just like that?

MORGANA: 

Yes. Go right now, please.

The FanBoy : 

Oh wow!

[The Cage]

(The Doctor is practising his juggling with Mags.)

CAPTAIN: 

Mags.

MAGS: 

What?

CAPTAIN: 

It's not going to work. 

I remember when I was on the baleful plains of Grolon, I —

MAGS: 

I don't care.

Time's Champion : 

Ready?

(Mags and The Doctor go to The Cage Door, 

where a pair robot clowns stand guard.)

Time's Champion : 

I believe I'm on first.

MAGS: 

No, I'm ahead of you.

Time's Champion : 

No, you're not.

MAGS: 

No, I am.

Time's Champion : 

I insist on going out first.

MAGS: 

Oh no, you don't.

Time's Champion : 

Oh yes, I do!

MAGS: 

Oh no, you don't.

Time's Champion : 

Look, I insist in going on first.

MAGS: 

I told you, I am.

Time's Champion : 

I am!

(The Robot Clowns come over and The Door slides up. 

The Doctor and Mags knock them out with the clubs — 

This works — because it’s FUNNY. )

Time's Champion : 

Join The Club. 

Captain?

CAPTAIN: 

No thanks, old boy. 

I'll sit this one out. 

Goodbye, Mags.

MAGS: 

Bye, Captain.