Release The Hounds

"These puppies are of the same parents, but by virtue of a different bringing up The One is pampered, and The Other A Good Hound." 

Let so much suffice for habit and modes of life.

SCULLY :

You've always said that you 

Want to Believe. 

 

But Believe in WHAT, Mulder? 

 

If this is The Truth that you've been looking for then what is left to Believe in?

MULDER: 

I Want to Believe That The Dead Are Not Lost to Us.

 

That They Speak to Us as Part of Something Greater Than Us - Greater Than Any Alien Force. 

 

And if You and I are powerless now, 

I Want to Believe That if We LISTEN to What is SPEAKING --

 

It can Give Us The Power to Save Ourselves.

SCULLY :

 Then We Believe in 

The Same Thing.

She reaches down  to the gifted Gold that hangs on a chain around her neck, the same Golden totem that has hung there in plain sight for 9 whole seasons of Network Television without attracting ANY real notice or curious interest —  or not any from Mulder, at least — and she gently turns her Cross ever-so slightly, 45-degrees or so from the perpendicular —

It is an X. The Unknown and Unquantifiable, Endless-Nameless Mystery

 18 INT. SEWER - DAY 

Connor and Angel are walking through the sewers under Los Angeles.

CONNOR 

She's been down here.

ANGEL 

How old were you when you realised you could track like this?

CONNOR 

I don't know. Five, six. 

We didn't exactly celebrate birthdays in Quor-Toth. 

Holtz made up a game 

so I could practice.

ANGEL 

What do you mean he'd 

hide things for you to find?

CONNOR 

Kind of. 

He'd tie me to a tree 

and then run away.

ANGEL 

(shocked, stops walking) 

What?

CONNOR 

(shrugs) 

You know, so I'd have to escape 

and then find him. 

One time it only took me five days.

ANGEL 

Five days. 

He abandoned you... 

Connor, that's terrible. 

That's—

CONNOR 

(unfazed) 

Why I'm so good at tracking. 

Fred rested here for a while.

You do not Pass Judgment because you sympathize with Them --

A deprived childhood and a homicide really isn't necessarily a homicide, right? 

The Only thing you can blame is circumstances : Rapists and murderers may be the victims according to you, but I, I call them DOGS and if they're lapping up Their Own Vomit, The Only Way to Stop Them is with The Lash. 

But Dogs only obey 

Their Own Nature.

So why shouldn't 

we forgive them? 

DOGS can be taught Many Useful Things, but not, NOT if we Forgive Them every time They Obey Their Own Nature. 

So, I'm arrogant…

I'm arrogant because 

I forgive people? 

My God. Can't you see how condescending you are when you say that? 

You have this preconceived notion that nobody, LISTEN, that NOBODY can POSSIBLY attain the same High Ethical Standards as YOU, so you exonerate them.

I can not THINK of ANYTHING more arrogant, than that. 

You, My Child... My DEAR Child, you forgive Others with excuses that you would never in THE WORLD permit for yourself.

Why shouldn't  I be merciful? 

Why? 

No, no, no You SHOULD, you SHOULD be merciful, when there is TIME to be merciful. 

But you MUST maintain Your Own Standard,  You OWE them that, You OWE them that.

The penalty you deserve for your transgressions, they deserve for their transgressions.

They are Human Beings.

No, no, no  -- Does EVERY Human Being need to be accountable for their actions? 

Of COURSE they do. But you don't even give them THAT chance! 

And that is EXTREMELY arrogant -- I LOVE You, I LOVE You, I LOVE You to DEATH.... 

But you are The Most Arrogant Person I have ever met, and you call ME arrogant! 

I Have No More 

to Say. 

Full shot. 

Planetarium seen from The Parking Lot--a Great Dome crowns it -- The City lies Below.

 Camera picks up JIM STARK'S car maneuvering through the crowded lot. In b.g. a few other late-comers are dashing up steps to Planetarium. 

JIM drives into a small lot behind observator, parks, then runs to observatory entrance.

Full shot. 

Lobby as JIM runs through, opens door of theater and passes inside.

Long shot. 

Sky Full of Stars seen past JIM's Head.
Darkness. This is not Our Sky. 

It is a replica of it projected onto The Dome of The Planetarium. 

 

The Stars slide their tentative ways in an ever-changing pattern. 

 

One of them is much larger than The Rest and increases in size as we watch. 

Music of The Spheres is heard -- a high threatening tremolo.

 LECTURER (O.S.)
 For many days before The End of Our
 Earth, People will look into The  Night Sky and notice a star,  increasingly bright and increasingly near.

JIM looks around for a seat and passes down aisle. 

Seen beyond him is the projector, moving slowly, its great dumb-bell head sparkling with pin-points of light. 

JIM takes a seat in front row. 

PLATO, in the row behind him, moves over
a seat to be nearer. They exchange looks.

Full shot. 

Normal students watching intently.

 LECTURER (O.S.)
 As This Star approaches Us, The Weather will change. 

 

The Great Polar fields of The North and South  will rot and divide, and The Seas
 will turn warmer.

Low angle. 

LECTURER. 

A dry, Elderly Man in a stiff white
collar. 

He is seated at a desk, the light from the reading lamp spilling upward onto his face.

 LECTURER
 The Last of Us search The Heavens and Stand Amazed. For The Stars will still be there, moving through their ancient rhythms.

Angle shot. 

Students. Some watching, some taking notes.
An OLD LADY TEACHER in f.g. taps the heads of two kids in the row before her. 

They stop their whispering.

 She smiles at them.

 LECTURER (O.S.)
 The familiar constellations that  illuminate our night will seem as  they have always seemed, eternal,  unchanged and little moved by the shortness of time between Our Planet's Birth and its Demise.

Med. shot. PLATO staring upward.

 LECTURER (O.S.)
 Orion, The Hunter.

PLATO looks off.

Med. shot. JIM (from PLATO's angle). 

JIM is seated in the row ahead of PLATO. 

His lips are parted as he looks up.

 JIM
 Boy!

 PLATO
 (leaning forward)
 What?

 JIM
 (surprised)
 Once you been Up There, 

you know  you been 

Some Place!

 LECTURER (O.S.)
 Gemini, the Twins.

Two shot. JUDY and BUZZ. 

BUZZ has his arm around her. 

He is nuzzling her ear. 

She is blandly watching The Dome.

 LECTURER (O.S.)
 (continuing)
 Cancer, the Crab.

BUZZ pokes JUDY who looks at him. 

He curves his wrist toward her, opening and closing his first two fingers like
the pincers of a crab.

“Maybe There’s Hope.”, said Special Agent Fox "Spooky" Mulder,

Once-More Enunciating The Stated Truth.

 

"Maybe There's Hope."

And So There Was.

And It was Good.

Good it is,

and remains Good still.

[Fade to Black]

Dear Clarice,

I have followed with enthusiasm the course of your disgrace and public shaming.

My own never bothered me, except for the inconvenience of being incarcerated, but you may lack perspective.

In our discussions down in The Dungeon, it was apparent to me that Your Father, The Dead Night Watchman, figures largely in your value system.

I think your success in putting an end to Jame Gumb's career as a couturier pleased you most because you could imagine your father being pleased.

But now, alas, you're in bad odour with the FBI.

Do you imagine your daddy being shamed by your disgrace?

Do you see him in his plain pine box crushed by your failure?

The sorry, petty end of a promising career?

What is worst about this humiliation, Clarice?

Is it how your failure will reflect on your mommy and daddy?

Is your worst fear that people will now and forever believe they were, indeed, just good old trailer-camp, tornado-bait, white trash, and that perhaps you are, too?

Mmm?

By the way, I couldn't help noticing on the FBI's rather dull public website, that I have been hoisted from the Bureau's archives of the common criminal, and elevated to the more prestigious Ten Most Wanted list.

Is this coincidence, or are you back on the case?

If so, goody, goody, 'cause I need to come out of retirement and return to Public Life.

I imagine you sitting in a dark basement room, bent over papers and computer screens.

Is that accurate? Please tell me truly, Special Agent Starling.

Regards, your old pal,

Hannibal Lecter, M.D.

 

 

P.S., clearly this new assignment is not your choice.

Rather, I suppose it is part of the bargain, but you accepted it, Clarice.

Your job is to craft my doom, so I am not sure how well I should wish you, but I'm sure we'll have a lot of fun.

Ta-ta. 

"H."

"To speak generally, what we are wont to say about the arts and sciences is also true of moral excellence, for to its perfect development three things must meet together, natural ability, theory, and practice. 

By theory I mean training, and by practice working at one's craft. 

Now the foundation must be laid in training, and practice gives facility, but perfection is attained only by the junction of all three. For if any one of these elements be wanting, excellence must be so far deficient. 

For natural ability without training is blind: and training without natural ability is defective, and practice without both natural ability and training is imperfect. 

For just as in farming the first requisite is good soil, next a good farmer, next good seed, so also here: the soil corresponds to natural ability, the training to the farmer, the seed to precepts and instruction. 

I should therefore maintain stoutly that these three elements were found combined in the souls of such universally famous men as Pythagoras, and Socrates, and Plato, and of all who have won undying fame. Happy at any rate and dear to the gods is he to whom any deity has vouchsafed all these elements! 

But if anyone thinks that those who have not good natural ability cannot to some extent make up for the deficiencies of Nature by Right Training and Practice, let such a one know that he is very wide of The Mark, if not out of it altogether. 

For good natural parts are impaired by sloth; while inferior ability is mended by training: and while simple things escape the eyes of the careless, difficult things are reached by painstaking. 

The wonderful efficacy and power of long and continuous labour you may see indeed every day in the world around you.

Thus water continually dropping wears away rocks: and iron and steel are moulded by the hands of the artificer: and chariot wheels bent by some strain can never recover their original symmetry: and the crooked staves of actors can never be made straight. 

But by toil what is contrary to nature becomes stronger than even nature itself. 

And are these the only things that teach The Power of Diligence? 

Not so: ten thousand things teach the same Truth. 

A soil naturally good becomes by neglect barren, and the better its original condition, the worse its ultimate state if uncared for. 

On the other hand a soil exceedingly rough and sterile by being farmed well produces excellent crops. 

And what trees do not by neglect become gnarled and unfruitful, whereas by pruning they become fruitful and productive? 

And what constitution so good but it is marred and impaired by sloth, luxury, and too full habit? 

And what weak constitution has not derived benefit from exercise and athletics? 

And what horses broken in young are not docile to their riders? while if they are not broken in till late they become hard-mouthed and unmanageable. 

And why should we be surprised at similar cases, seeing that we find many of the savagest animals docile and tame by training? 

Rightly answered the Thessalian, who was asked who the mildest Thessalians were, "Those who have done with fighting."

But why pursue the line of argument further? For the Greek name for moral virtue is only habit : and if anyone defines moral virtues as habitual virtues, he will not be beside The Mark. But I will employ only one more illustration, and dwell no longer on this topic. 

Lycurgus, the Lacedæmonian legislator, took Two Puppies of The Same Parents, and brought them up in an entirely different way : The One he pampered and cosseted up, while he taught The Other to Hunt and be A Retriever. 

Then on one occasion, when the Lacedæmonians were convened in assembly, he said, "Mighty, O Lacedæmonians, is the influence on moral excellence of habit, and education, and training, and modes of life, as I will prove to you at once." 

So saying he produced The Two Puppies, and set before them A Platter and A Hare : The One darted on The Hare, while The Other made for The Platter. 

And when the Lacedæmonians could not guess what his meaning was, or with what intent he had produced the puppies, he said, 

"These puppies are of the same parents, but by virtue of a different bringing up The One is pampered, and The Other A Good Hound." 

Let so much suffice for Habit and Modes of Life.