Zenith (2010) - full transcript

Fact: In 1974 Stanley Milgram conducted this experiment at Harvard University:

ordinary men and women were brought in to participate in what they were told was a study in memory.

They were to play the role of "teachers".

They were to read a series of words to a person sitting behind a partition.

That person was called a "learner".

The "learner" was strapped into an electric chair while the "teacher" watches.

Fact: The "teacher" has in front of him a row of levers labeled from 15 to 450 volts

and a row of switches labeled from slight to severe shock.

At 300 volts the "learner" suffers permanent damage.

At 450 volts- the final- death.

A scientist is with the teacher.



He instructs the "teacher" to move up one level higher on the shock generator

every time the learner makes a mistake.

The teacher is supposed to test the learner's memory.

He reads the learner a word with four possible answers.

If the learner gets the answer correct, they move on.

If the learner answers incorrectly, the teacher shocks the learner.

He moves from 15 to 450 volts.

The learner makes mistakes.

The "teacher" administers shocks.

As the shock level increases,

the "learner" starts to protest behind the wall.

At 100 volts he begins to shout.

At 200 volts he pleads with the teacher.

At 250 volts, he screams.



At 300 volts he kicks the partition wall.

At 450 volts he stops moving or making any noise at all.

He's dead.

65% of the subjects went all the way to the maximum level

and no one stopped before 300 volts.

Fact: there were no shocks at all.

The teachers thought they were administering shocks to the learner but the learner was actually an actor who was never really harmed.

This was an experiment in Obedience to Authority, known as the Milgram Experiment.

Consciousness:

the totality of a person's thoughts,

or feelings,

or a class of these.

Perception.

Curiosity.

Enthusiasm.

That's me, Jack,

or Dumb Jack if you will,

doing my daily routine.

Who is Jack? What does he do?

Rewind to a disreputable hotel.

We are genetically enhanced to always be happy.

But, somehow that turned into permanent numbness.

Everyone is seeking ever stronger sensations and thrills,

ecstasy or epiphany,

the strongest is pain.

On the black market the price or drugs, medicine which expired decades ago, is staggering.

People buy them for the side effects and the overwhelming pain they induce.

Pain makes them feel alive.

Each time, I have to try my merchandise myself to make sure it is top of the line.

Fast forward.

It is the year 2044 on the Gregorian calendar,

or the Jewish 5804, or the Muslim 1466, or the Chinese year 60 of the 78th cycle,

another year of the pig,

if that matters.

But that's not the story.

The story is, my name's Jack, or Dumb Jack if you will,

and I'm a regular Joe of 2044,

except for one thing.

I know words no one else knows anymore.

Many things cannot be said anymore,

many names can't be named,

and many thoughts can't be thought.

You can still say I want, I need, I have,

but you want or need food, sex, a car or a house.

Not solitude, or imagination, or divinity.

You don't know what it means.

Virtue: moral excellence, uprightness, goodness, justice, temperance.

This is a time when many words are forgotten,

but I remember.

I don't why, or how, or

when I realized this, but I know what all these words mean, and

every day I record myself reciting them over and over again,

so I don't forget.

It's dangerous to know so many words so I play down.

Cut to the day I met Mateo.

It was Sunday or Monday... not a very special day at all.

Do you think Ed went insane?

So the story goes.

Aren't you curious about your father?

No.

Your father...

recorded these videotapes.

He left them with me for you.

Tell me more.

That's all I know.

The first tape is just a series of old photographs-- so I want you to use your imagination now.

See Ed preaching in his church.

Thou shalt have no other gods before me.

Thou shalt not bow down thyself to them,

nor serve them,

for I, the Lord, thy God,

am a jealous God.

Ed Crowley became a priest because he doubted God, but desperately wanted to believe.

Doubt, however, persisted in his mind, and actually grew stronger as the years passed.

As Ed saw it, the world was deteriorating in front of his very eyes

and what he was doing didn't make any difference.

He couldn't save anybody.

Through him, everything came into being.

Less and less people came to his church.

In the beginning was the word, and the word was with God.

And one day, everything changed.

I'm listening, son.

I'm an accountant.

Go on.

Bless me, father, for I have sinned.

Don't be afraid.

I've seen the documents.

The secrets.

I know they know.

My life is in danger.

Calm down son, calm down.

You don't understand, father.

Do you know what Zenith means?

What?

Zenith... the highest point in the heavens,

directly above the observer.

There's a secret society of men,

and they're pulling the strings behind all the events under the guise of tolerance and brotherhood,

but really seeking to further their privileges,

the seed of which were unwittingly planted hundreds... thousands of years ago...

by an idea appropriated...

by the secret order and made into the laws of the land.

The system was perfected

over a very long time,

able to control the masses to keep them dumb and numb.

Zenith is the time

when the sun comes into its peak,

after which there follows an inevitable decline,

but this decline will become horrendous, because

these men will not relinquish their control.

Society will crumble,

the vast majority will suffer,

but this tiny movement...

has prepared for themselves.

They will survive.

From that moment on, Ed becomes obsessed with conspiracy theories and mysticism.

He starts searching for the truth of it all.

Do you really think you know the truth?

Do you really know what's going on?

First of all, he started preaching about the grand conspiracy and mysticism from the pulpit,

which eventually got him kicked out of the church.

Three years later...

Ed is married to a former prostitute who gives him his only son...

Jack.

The next tape I found a couple of days later among the few belongings I had left over from my mother

when she left me at the age of four.

Why did I search there now?

Call it a hunch.

Edward Bernays --the inventor of public relations-- states in his seminal book "Propaganda"

that we don't realize to what extent the words and actions of our most influential leaders are dictated by people behind the scenes.

Ed lives in a housing project in East New York and makes money as a locksmith.

The invisible government is concentrated in the hands of very few people.

Although he is not a priest anymore, he still wears his collar, because now he sees himself as "the priest of truth".

They control the habits and actions of the masses.

And he's bought a video camera, because he can't write as fast as his mind works.

The secret society of the Illuminati was formed by Adam Weishaupt in Bavaria in 1776.

But sometimes his frustration would boil over.

You wanna know what an asshole is? I'll show you what an asshole is!

Actually, the first time he went to the police by himself,

at the Majestic Hotel in Paris in 1919, the secret Round Table groups of the United States and Great Britain

officially became the Council on Foreign Relations and the Royal Institute for International Affairs.

It's the one-world government, it's the one-world currency. They're trying to take control totally of our lives.

Next time he got busted for beating a neighbor, then for beating a customer who wouldn't pay.

But Ed was not stupid.

He might have been crazy... but not stupid.

Virtue.

Moral excellence.

Uprightness.

Goodness.

Temperance.

Let me clarify one thing now:

I'm not interested in my father or his conspiracies.

I'm interested in why, when and how language disappeared.

Ed knew something about that.

Harmless.

God does not die the day we cease to believe in our personal God,

but we die

the day when our lives cease to be illumined by the radiance of wonder renewed daily.

Who said that?

Dag Hammarskjold.

You know all these words...

I'm old, I remember.

I can't forget anything.

How come I've never seen you?

You never looked.

And you waited all this time...

to knock on my door?

I don't go out much.

What is it?

That is beautiful!

You're very talented!

-He likes you.
-You're very lucky to have a friend like him.

I know.

For me?

Thank you, Nimble.

Nimble and Jack-- we go way back.

Day one-- I drop out of medical school and start dealing on the black market.

I almost got killed that first day.

Nimble saves my life.

He's been doing it ever since.

And now-- Nimble, Jack and Mateo.

It seems like once Mateo sat down on that chair, he never really got up.

The three of us, we don't know anything real about each other, but somehow,

this night feels like we're family.

Some nights I can't sleep.

My seizures are worse than usual.

That particular night I decided to distract myself.

Where is my money?

Motherfucker! You think I'm that cheap?

Sorry.

Solace is thy name.

-What did you just say?
-Fuck you!

-Wait.
-Leave me alone!
-Solace, how do you know that word?

Please... I don't wanna hurt you.

I know words, too.

Have some tea.

-Where am I?
-Home.

Your home?

Why did you bring me here?

I didn't mean to hurt you, I'm sorry.

Can you at least look at me like you really mean it?

I'm sorry.

You're beautiful,

rich...

-and you fuck for money.
-Not for money.

What?

To feel the pain?

To feel the void... solace?

I can sell you a lot of pain, I've got good stuff.

Do you know what solace means?

How come you do?

I asked you first.

-Comfort.
-And what is comfort?

Relief from distress,

that makes for pleasantness or ease.

What is your name?

They call me Dumb Jack.

-Are you dumb?
-So they say.

I don't think so.

How many words do you know?

-More than you.
-Try me.

Ennui?

Boredom, tedium, irksomeness, monotony,

-a state of weariness.
-Sadness?

Depression, dejection, dinge...

dysphoria, gloom, melancholy.

Affection?

It was nice meeting you.

How are you, sir?

-I'm fine.
-Have a nice day.

-You, too.
-Miss Lisa?

-I'm fine, have a nice day, have a nice weekend.
-You, too.

Lisa, there you are!

-How are you, Mr. Berger?
-I'm fine, how are you?

-Oh, I'm fine. Have a wonderful weekend.
-You too, have a wonderful weekend.

-Isn't it time for your lecture?
-Yes, dad.

-This is your friend?
-His name is Jack.

Nice to meet you, Jack.

-Nice to meet you.
-Call me Rudy. Lisa was just telling me about your terrible accident.

He just fell down the stairs, don't make a big deal out of it.

What do you do, Jack?

-I'm a doctor.
-What kind of doctor?

-Brain surgeon.
-Ah, what hospital?

Oh... kind of freelance.

-I just had a procedure, you know.
-Really?

How old do you think I am?

-I don't know.
-Come on, guess!

Thirty-five?

Close... eighty-five.

-They did great work on you.
-Didn't they?

I could have gone for 25 but I feel that's too much, 35 is...

decent. Don't you think?

So... you're Lisa's date?

-Friend... I'm just a friend.
-I should have known.

Lisa doesn't date nice young man like you. I keep telling her, but why should she listen to her father, right?

Listen, thank you... for everything, but I really should get going.

Certainly, but please, Jack, feel free to drop by,

-and not only when Lisa's around, OK?
-Sure.

-Rudy.
-Sure, Rudy.

Have a wonderful day.

You, too.

Business is good, but I don't care.

I wanna think about Ed and the missing tapes;

instead, I think about Lisa.

I lie to myself that my interest in her is linguistic, anthropological, scientific.

I try to find her in usual and unusual places,

but she's nowhere.

Cut to a week later.

I put the word out on the street...

searching for forty year old video recordings,

good money for clues, top of the line drugs in exchange for the tapes.

A few false clues later, I get this call.

A rich collector wants to do business.

He sends us cops to meet me.

Let me see your stuff.

It's top of the line.

Heavy duty prescription tranquilizers with massive side-effects,

expired thirty years ago.

Oh... that is good.

He's one hundred and three years old,

reveling in his personal pain induced by excessive drug abuse.

Are you sure this is what you want?

It's very strange-- I have thousands of more exciting tapes.

This is it.

Hold that thought now.

This thing working?

Of course it's working, you
dimwit. Turn it around.

-Did you get it?
-Got it.

Ed finds a follower, student and
cameraman in his neighbor Dale,

a bored retired postal worker,
living on disability pension.

The Bilderberg meetings take place
in a different country every year.

They are top secret and
run by military intelligence.

Meanwhile, Ed's life starts to
unravel. First, authorities take his son away,

then Ed's wife leaves him.
Ed convinces himself that THEY-

whoever they are--
want to demoralize him.

The Bilderberg meetings serve
the purpose of shaping world politics

and economy by manipulating the media,

with the ultimate goal to

preserve and enhance this wealth and power.

Other groups may be pulling
the strings behind the Bilderberg,

possibly even the Freemasons or the Illuminati,

but that is conspiracy theory;

Bilderberg is fact!

Oh, thank God--

I was so scared-
I thought I would never get out of here.

What's that?

Security precaution. That's
standard procedure nowadays.

We have to document every
job in case of malpractice.

It's called a locksmith-cam.

How's it...
How's it goin'?

That's Dale.

Nice to meet you.

The lock got rusty inside, that's
why it wouldn't open--

old Dutch clunker.

I'd replace it if I were you.

Oh? Sure, I...

-Here, how about this one?
-Aw, why don't you come inside?

You know, it's so hard these days
for an elderly woman

-to live alone in this city...
-That's-

Pardon-
Oh, yes.

My brother.

I- met him once- briefly.

When?

A couple of years ago.
Are you in touch with him?

Sidney, he--

he disappeared about six months ago.

What?

Moved out of his apartment and

left me with this suitcase
and... that's it.

He vanished.

No one knows where he is.

-Anyway, I'll take the lock. Is it expensive?
-No.

Can you possibly come back
Monday to install it?

I'm going out of town over the weekend.
Here, I'll just give you a little

-something in the meantime, if I may.
-Thank you.

Thank you.

Cut!

What now, big fella?

We have to get the bag.

How?

-I'm a locksmith, remember?
-You're talkin' break-in and entry,

may the Lord be with us.

The content of Sid Schleimann's
bag is a disappointment.

Only history and conspiracy books--
Ed has read all of them.

But then, at the bottom,

a note from Schleimann:

a list of names.

Perhaps the first clue.

Are you sure this is what you want?

This is it. Where did you get it?

There is this store; it has
tapes and books.

-Old stuff.
-What's the name of the bookstore?

I didn't... I didn't refresh my

brain cells

in three years.

What was it called?

Nation?

Illus-Illustration- or...

Illusion?

Yes. Illusion.

Excuse me.

Are you Vito?

Who wants to know?

My name's Jack.

-What's the matter with you?
-I'm looking for a book.

Knock yourself out.

It's a particular book...

it's called Zenith.

I don't know it.

You sold this tape to a
collector a few years ago.

He says you have the book.

-Get the fuck out of my store!
-I can offer you a good deal.

-I said get out!
-Take it easy.

-Now! And don't come back!
-Uh-huh. Take it easy.

Last chance, or I've just caught a
thief stealing in my store.

All right.

Cut to interior, Illumination bookstore,
the following night.

You don't learn, do you?

You dumb fuck.

Characters are not developed, huh?

The first act was weak, huh?

Too many subplots, eh?

You motherfucker.

When was the last time you
did anything noble or inspiring,

or at least intellectually challenging,

something that was
not self-gratifying,

you self-obsessed cocksucker?

Look at you--

sitting back in your chair,

just consuming pictures and words

and you understanding nothing.

That's what I'd tell
these fuckin' assholes.

Everybody's a critic,

every fuckin' dumbass

and half-literate who
walks through this door.

They can't write, they don't read,

but they can judge.

Who the fuck are you to judge?
Who the fuck are you to judge?

With what?

Did you write anything, huh?

Did you produce anything
worthwhile in your life,

except perhaps some snotty little brats

who're gonna grow up to
be even dumber than you are?

Vito is an angry man.
He is always angry.

He is also a conspiracy buff.

The important thing is,

I've got the book,

and it gets even better.

After I identify myself as Ed Crowley's
son, Vito digs out two more tapes.

He sold tape number three only because he was
desperate for money, but to him,

Ed Crowley's a hero.

I must admit,

although he is quite insane,
Vito does know many words,

but then again, he still reads books.

Go to tape number four.

There are 13 names on Sid Schleimann's list.

Ten of them are dead;

accidents, car crashes,
suicides, cardiac arrests.

To Ed, this is further proof
of the Grand Conspiracy.

But three of them are still alive.

I'm sill not sure about that camera.

-It's for the family.
-Yes, but,

his sister is dying.
She can't travel.

This might be the last
chance she gets to see him,

He's in the rec room.

Why is he handcuffed?

-He's a sex addict.
-What?

He masturbates. Compulsively.

You didn't know that?

I- well--

she didn't tell me.

I'll leave you two alone.

Mr. Oberts?

Mr. Oberts, can you hear me?

Doug?

Doug Oberts?

Mr. Oberts, this is very important.

You've got to talk to me.

Damn, it's hot in here.

You are on Sid Schleimann's list.

Do you remember Sid Schleimann?

What do you know about Zenith?

This is unbearable.

-Behold!
-Mr. Oberts.

I shew you a mystery;

we shall not all sleep,
but we shall all be changed,

in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye,
at the last trump for the trumpet

shall sound, and the dead shall be
raised incorruptible,

-and we shall be changed.
-Mr. Oberts, can you hear me?

-For from henceforth...
-Mr. Oberts!

-...there shall be five in one house...
-Please!

...divided, three against two, and two
against three, the father shall be divided

-against the son, and the son against the father...
-Please listen to me!

...the mother against the daughter,
and the daughter against the mother.

-But there were false prophets...
-Please!

-...also among the people...
-Mr. Oberts, look at me!

-...even as there shall be false teachers...
-Mr. Oberts, please!

...among you who privily

shall bring in damnable

heresies, even denying
the Lord that bought them

and bring upon themselves swift destruction.

-SWIFT DESTRUCTION!!
-Shut up! Shut up!

-Is everything all right?
-Everything's fine.

Are you sure?

-No, it's fine.
-I heard shouting.

Doug just got excited when
I told him about his sister.

He shouldn't get excited.

It's OK, he's calm now.

Sir, you need to leave.

-But, it's all right now.
-Sir!

I'll be back.

The second name on Sid
Schleimann's list is Hank Mirren,

an old friend of Schleimann.

Mr. Mirren?

Is this really necessary?

For documentation purposes,
only it helps the investigation.

When was the last time
you saw Mr. Schleimann?

I'm not sure; maybe a month
before he disappeared.

-I talked to the police already.
-I know, but this is a private investigation.

Every detail might help.

Sid suffered from manic depression.

The last two years were unbearable.

Nothing could help him.
He saw only one way out.

What are you saying?

I think he killed himself.

Huh? Where's the body?

You have to understand,

Sid was always a bit strange.

Even as a kid, everyone
thought he's just shy,

but it was more than that.
He was sick.

Did he ever mention something
called Zenith to you?

Sure. He kept blabbing
about it all the time.

It started off four or five years ago
with these weird-ass pamphlets he read,

and then the internet--
his mind went just...

So, that was all his fantasy?

He was a deranged man.

-It's a sad story.
-Did he get any treatment?

He tried different drugs, doctors...

nothing. Look, I've got to go.

-Wait. Is there anything else you can think of?
-No, not really. I'm sorry.

Cut.

He was lying.

He was just queasy. People don't
like talkin' about that kinda thing.

No. He was lying.

He said the guy was sick,
even as a child.

Parents fuck you up, no matter
what- but that's not it.

Maybe it is true. Maybe he
popped himself.

Sometimes it's the most
obvious explanation.

Yeah, right. Coming from Hank Mirren,

there are absolutely
no records about Mirren,

plus he used to work for the military.

C'mon, Ed, what's that
gotta do with anything?

You see that car?

Behind us.
Don't turn around!

Look into the mirror.

That car's been following us.

You sure?

They've been behind us
ever since we left Mirren.

They're turning off.
They realized we saw them!

There is nothing outside of language!

Language defines us!

Even our unconscious
is defined by language!

Am I right, Jack, or what?

You are preposterously dumb!

Me? Dumb!?

You fuckin' cocksucker!

What about semiology? Huh?
How the fuck would you

communicate your retarded
ideas? Read a book!

-Open your eyes!
-Shut the fuck up! Get the fuck out of here!

Suddenly I'm surrounded
by a raving madman.

I don't even know how Vito ended up here.

This family has become
a dysfunctional family.

It's time for them to leave.

Jack can't concentrate,

Jack can't read and Jack has a good
excuse to go out and search for Lisa again.

Slow down to a blur.

Fade, fade, fade.

What are you doing?

What is this about?

You tell me... Jack.

-Who do you work for?
-We ask the questions.

So, you're interested in language?

Do you know what Zenith means?

The... highest point in... heavens-

directly above the observer!

You're free to go.

That's me, Jack, or Dumb Jack, if
you will, and this is the story.

Fact: In 1974, Stanley Milgram conducted
this experiment at Harvard University:

ordinary men and women are brought in to
participate in what they are told was a study of memory.

In my world, there's no more police.

Well, there's private police,
but that's not the same.

The companies and the rich have their own cops,
but that's just another name for thugs,

clean shaven and in uniform.

Fact: The "teacher" has in front of him a row
of levers, labeled from 15 to 450 volts,

and a row of switches, labeled
from slight to severe shock.

At 300 volts, the "learner" suffers
permanent damage.

At 450?volts, the final: death.

Someone knows about Zenith.

Someone knows about me.

Perhaps Ed Crowley wasn't
crazy after all.

The next name on Ed's list
is Matt Smith.

The man is a former stockbroker
and venture capitalist who made zillions
of dollars.

His life completely changed
when he got arrested for embezzlement.

When he got out of prison, he
became an alcoholic, then a drug addict.

His life goes spiraling down until he
reaches the gutter.

Consciousness...

the totality of a person's
thoughts or feelings,

or of a class of these.

Perception,

curiousity, enthusiasm.

That's Jack, or Dumb Jack, if you will--

and this is deja vu,

or the illusory feeling of having
already experienced a present situation.

Cut to interior, Illumination Bookstore,
the following night.

What happened?

Murder.

How?

Break-in and entry.

Where is the owner?

They found his body.
You better get out of here.

Jack, stop!

Vito! What the fuck!
I thought you were dead!

-They broke into the store.
-Who's "they"?

How the fuck should I know?
The guys who killed JFK.

-Were they cops?
-I got one of them motherfuckers.

He ended up in the fireplace
and burned alive.

Were they cops?

I don't know!
It happened so fast.

I wouldn't even recognize them.

Jack.
-Can you imagine?
They ransacked my books and tapes.

Shit.

What? Jack?

The book and the tapes are still there,
but something else isn't.

Mateo came back and died of
a heart attack, all in one day.

Vito thinks that "they" have
somehow killed him.

I don't know. But
there is something else.

Mateo knew all along where tapes number
eight and nine were.

He just waited to
die to tell me.

-Jack.
-Got them!

Hank Mirren won't talk, Matt Smith
got killed and Doug Oberts went insane.

The three survivors from
Schleimann's list.

-Turn that thing off!
-What?

Turn the fucking camera off!

-What's the matter with you?
-I need to document this.

Aw, fuck you, Ed!

Everything's going to be fine, don't worry.

You've got so wacko, you aren't even
readin' the papers, huh?

What are you talking about?

That Smith guy
gets whacked by a mugger.

We show up at the same time, and now they
think you killed him!

Read the fuckin' papers!

They're trying to set me up!

Set you up!
You're seen with a gun, blastin' through the place,

and now you think they're settin' you up?!

Yeah, I know their game.

Are you listening to yourself? This ain't no game!

Your picture's on the front page of the paper!

Well, it's a drawing, and a lousy one at that!

You're fuckin' mad!
I should've told the cops!

You spoke to the cops?

Wake up! They think you're a
psycho.

I just got lucky the motherfucker
hit me, or I'd be in jail now.

What did you tell them?

What do you think I told them? I told them I don't
know you, that's what I told them.

I shouldn't have come.

This place is not bugged.

How do you know?

'Cause there is no conspiracy; it's all
in your head, Ed. Please, see a doctor.

Where are they, Dale?

Who the fuck are "they"?

I don't mind, Dale, I know.

All this time, no one's been following us.

I know you had to cover yourself.

I didn't tell them anything.

And "they" didn't kidnap your wife and child.

Your wife left you because you were
beating the shit out of her.

-How could you?
-Fuck off, Ed.

I didn't tell them anything! Get out of here!

I trusted you!

I trusted you, goddamnit.
Let go of my arm.
You're hurting my arm. Goddamned...

I am leaving Dale's apartment now. I know
they must be close.

Something I have
found has disturbed the beast.

Get into the car or you're a dead man.
Now! Move!

Turn off that camera!

What else do you need, Jack?
They killed Mateo.

Nobody killed him.
He had a heart attack.

Bullshit, and you know it. They
can make it look like anything.

He was 82 years old.

-So what? Nowadays that's not old.
-Jack, they're genetically enhanced.

Just stop!

For fuck's sake, man.

What about those weird cops?
What about the guys in my store?

Jack, you saw the tape. Ed was not crazy.
We've got to find that last tape.

I'm tired, Vito.

Jack! Jack!

Single, sole, abandoned,
deserted, isolated, secluded.

Jack has to see Lisa.

Ache, distress, agony, torment, torture.

The sensation that causes acute
discomfort or suffering.

Pain.

Jack.

Jack, can you hear me?

Jack?

Jack?

I'm dead.

Shhh, don't.
You almost killed yourself.

How did you find me?

Nimble found me.

Nimble?

He's your guardian angel.

I can't eat.

Don't be a child. Your body needs to
recover. You're full of poison.

I saw you and your father...

-It's getting cold.
-...fucking.

Uh-huh.

What do you think, Jack?
Do you think I like who I am?

Why?

I'm a whore. Didn't you notice?

Would you rather idolize me
as a virgin or a mother?

Which one do you prefer, Jack?

Did he rape you?

-He wants a child from me.
-What?

People are sick, Jack. You should know.

That's why they buy your medication.

Breeding inside the family.
Keeping the genes pure.

You must've heard about that.

I'm sorry.

I know.

I tried to run away, but
there's nowhere to hide.

He's a very powerful man.

So we go south

to the Equator.
There is this village.

He's going to know as soon
as we cross the border.

-We'll have fake I.D.s.
-How?

Don't worry.

What's your name going to be?

My name?

Your name.

Horatio.

I like it.

So tickets, I.D.s, I'll get everything tomorrow
and we can leave the next day.

Four countries, five flights, three
identities. No one can trace that.

-Why did you quit being a doctor?
-Are you listening to anything I'm saying?

Uh-huh. Why?

It doesn't matter.

-What's wrong?
-Nothing.

-Berger says that.
-Berger?

My father... he says that the most
dangerous people are idealists.

Dreamers, visionaries, utopians,

one who leads his life according
to ideas, not practicalities.

Opposite to pragmatist, realist,
philistine?

-Well, I sell drugs.
-Disappointed dreamer.

That's a clich?.

You would've been a great doctor.

Maybe, but there's no medicine for poor people.

Clich? yourself.

-I don't like the rich.
-But you like me.

It's not easy to get a fake I.D. when
your whole life and DNA print are
squeezed into one microchip,

but there's a price for everything,

and my premium drugs
are the best on the market.

Later that day, Nimble and I have our
silent goodbye.

But life doesn't care about your plans.

Jack. Got it! I got it.
I got the fuckin' tape

number ten and it gets
even better, Jack.

-Where's Lisa?
-I, what?

-Where is she?
-Who's Lisa?

Jack, there was no one here. Listen.

Jack, not only did I get the tape,
but I think I found Sid Schleimann's son, Jack.

Can you believe that?
The guy had a son,

the son had tape number ten,
the son found me.

Jack, Jack, Jack.
It's a long story, man.

Listen, he was
searching as well, man,

and guess what?

The guy's one of the fucking richest, most
powerful men in the world, Jack:

Rudolf Berger.

Can you believe that? It's
Rudolf fuckin' Berger, Jack,

Schleimann's son!

-What? What?
-Yeah!

Jack. Did you hear what I fucking said, man? Jack!

Mr. Schleimann will see you now.

What?

I'm going alone.

What! Are you fuckin' nuts?

Look, I've been here before, OK?

There seems to be no security, in and out.

-How can that be possible?
-Look, I don't know.

Listen. If I'm not back in fifteen minutes, you take Nimble

and you get out of here.
Can you do that?

Don't do it, Jack. Please.

Come in.
Don't be afraid.

Who are you?

Sit down.

-Who are you?
-I'm Sid Schleimann.

Come in. Don't be afraid.

We need to talk.
Put the gun away and sit down.

Where is she?

Well, I know and you don't.

If you shoot me, you'll never find out.

Please, sit down.

Talk.

-Is that really necessary?
-Yes.

You're not Sid Schleimann!
Well, yes and no. You see, Ed...

there is no Sid Schleimann.
I made him up.

Who are you?

Call me Rudy. I was just reading your file.

Quite amazing.

Son of Irish emigrants, good student,
loner, idealist, who doubted God but
became a priest,

aggressive, violent,
maniac.

What are you searching for, Ed?

What did you do to Sid Schleimann?

Zenith is the time when the sun comes
into its peak,

after which there follows
inevitable decline, but this decline...

is going to be horrendous, but these men
will not relinquish control and power.

Sounds familiar?

What have you done with your life, Ed?

You could've done something good,
some small thing, you were a priest, man!

But you've ruined your life.
Not only that: your wife, your son.

What a waste.

There is no conspiracy, Ed. We're not in
the middle ages anymore.

A few secret men who pull
the strings of the entire world, please!

Don't you realize how
ridiculous that sounds?

This is the twenty-first century, Ed.

Look at me. How old do you think I am?

Remember? I was all gray.

Look at me!

Genetics,

bioengineering, it's going to change the world.

What am I saying? It's already changing
the world. It certainly

changed me.

Imagine a future,

where everyone will live to be three
hundred years old.

No more diseases, hunger, senseless violence.
Imagine that world, let's say, in about thirty years.

A better world.

Where everyone will be happy.

No more pain.

I was just reading your file.

Quite amazing.

Your father was a madman, your mother
a prostitute, you grew up in foster homes.

You have a rare form of epilepsy, yet you
managed to pull yourself through medical school,

best student of an entire generation,

only to quit in your last year
to become a drug pusher.

What do you want?

What are you searching for, Jack?

Language? The rest of your father's tapes?

The "truth"?
What do you want?

You're not listening to me, Jack.

You could've done something good,
some small thing, you were a doctor, man! You!

If I pull this trigger, you're dead,

and no plastic surgery or cloned organs are going to
bring you back to life, Rudy.

-Jack, you...
-I've got one bullet for you, and one for me.

Who do you think has more to lose?

The choice is yours, Ed.

You're free to walk out that door.
No one will stop you.

Outside, they think you're a madman.

You're wanted for murder, you have
nobody, you have ruined
everything that was left

of your life.

If you want, you can
go back to that.

Or you can stay.

We can give you a second chance.
New name, new face, new everything.

You can live a long life, Ed.
A very long life.

How would you like to own
your own bookstore?

Where is she?

She's behind that door.

You're making a big mistake, Jack.

You know the words, Jack.

You could've been one of us,

but you chose to be
Dumb Jack.

I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry, kid.

Perhaps you'd like to know. Lisa's pregnant.

We will abort your child.

Mr. Crowley? Can you hear me?

Mr. Crowley?

He's regained consciousness!

How do you feel, Mr. Crowley?

So, Ed, how do you feel?

What did you say?

How do you feel?

What did you just call me?

Ed. Ed Crowley. That's your name.
You don't remember?

Where am I?

You don't remember anything?

What is the last thing you recall?

We are replacing parts of your brain, Ed.

You are part of a very important
experiment.

Experiment?

Ed, you had a very rare
form of brain tumor.

That tumor was surgically removed,

but your brain was scarred.
Does that ring a bell?

The scar tissue was blocking the flow of
your neurotransmitters, and this caused a
very rare form of epilepsy

which resulted in
complex-partial seizures

and, well, your

curious language bouts, they are
related to your condition as well.

And the pain?

It's more like numbness.

You know, sometimes the absence of pain
is more dangerous than the pain itself.

Epilepsy makes you forget what
happens at the time of a seizure

and that's why you don't
remember your crime.

You killed a man, Ed, but
you were not aware of it.

That's why you are here
and not in prison.

I, I killed a man?

You wanted to be cured, but
there is no cure for your illness.

And you agreed to participate in
this very important experiment,

and we're replacing your sick brain

with cloned, genetically
improved brain tissue.

I'll be honest with you.

Something went wrong.

You had a seizure.

It lasted only about a minute,

but something very dramatic
transpired in your psyche.

Your brain activity exploded all
over our scanners. Unbelievable.

It's as if you had taken some psychedelic
mushroom or something.

Who did I kill?

I don't know. Some poor old guy.

Fact: The experiment is...

What did you just say?

Fact: The experiment is...

What?

Nothing.

Ed, are you OK?

Doctor?

Do you know what Zenith means?

Are you playing your word
games again, Ed?

You may feel exhausted,
hopeless and anxious.

Whatever you do, you feel lonely.
Life has lost any meaning.

These are symptoms of a serious
medical condition affecting millions.

While the cause is unknown it may be the
result of imbalance of chemicals in the brain.

Are you feeling tired? Suddenly old?
Aminohelp is here.

Surgery is not
the only solution.

Try Aminohelp and feel
another 20 years younger.

My name is Jack Crowley.

I am about to die.
But that's not the story.

This is the story:

Everyone thinks there are ten tapes.
But there are more.

Find number eleven.

It is up to you.

The future will be grim and hopeless.

I know this, for I have
uncovered the master plan,

the conspiracy behind it all.