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We just heard the last bars of Waltz No. 2

from Tchaikovsky's ballet Swan Lake,

performed by the Royal Orchestra.

I'm standing here with a gorgeous swan from Finland,

former Prime Minister Eva vogler,

working now as a peace consultant.

She has been called one of the brightest stars

of Nordic social democracy since the legendary Olof Palme.

Eva vogler,

you handed out the Nobel Peace Prize this evening.

How does it feel to be honoured with such a duty?

Well,

it seems like it has left you speechless.

May I ask you,

do you think the prize was well deserved by it's winner?

I see...

That was Eva Vogler.

This is Eva Vogler. You could not reach me at the moment.

Just leave your message after the beep,

and I will get back to you as soon as possible.

If you're not in a hurry

you can also try to reach me through the Blair Witch Institute.

Thank you.

Eva, it's Claire. Please call me.

Please.

It's me again.

For God's sake, Eva,

where are you?

At least let me know that you're okay.

Eva, I'm begging you.

Tony called and he said we can work this out in your favour.

But we have to be fast.

This is not the end. It's not.

Call me!

Eva vogler, the former Prime Minister of Finland,

caused a scandal at the Nobel banquet last night

by performing Anasyrma in front of the committee members,

and the Crown Princess Victoria of Sweden.

According to the eyewitnesses, the act was deliberate and vulgar

and happened just before the guests were seated for dinner at the Blue Hall.

After lifting up her dress,

the calm and cool Miss Vogler was immediately escorted off the premises

by her personal assistant, who has not been reached for comments.

Later the same evening,

a mysterious message appeared on Miss Vogler's account

on social media platform Electra,

saying that the act was not performed by her, but by her doppelgänger

and that she herself was lost in the Desert of the Real.

The message was deleted almost instantly.

Anasyrma, the self-exposing of one's genitals

was common in the ancient Greek cults of Demeter and Dionysus

as part of religious rituals

and is still used in some parts of Africa

as a curse and a means to ward off evil.

At exactly midnight,

the magic wore off.

She hurried down the steps of the City Hall,

but the limousine and the driver had vanished.

All she saw was a wino pushing a trolley.

And junkies. How come there were so many?

She walked past a row of tents.

Then another.

Misery had no vanishing point in the reality she had entered.

You never wanted children.

Not into this world, you said.

But despite your objection,

we had our princess.

And when she turned five,

we took her to see Walt Disney.

Sleeping in liquid nitrogen.

Cryogenized. Bloated.

Expecting to be resurrected in 2099.

You squeezed my hand in excitement.

I could see your eyes dilating

as you watch the stepfather of your generation dream away.

Pocahontas and Cinderella synchronized.

History and all cultures synchronized

into a depthless virtual image.

My wild child.

How did you become an operator for the Empire?

I couldn't do it, Gail. I'm sorry.

I shot him on the leg and took the money.

I'm on my way to Mexico.

Please stop breathing like that, Gail.

You're making me nervous.

I just can't kill another human being.

Cut the crap, Lynette.

He's not human.

He's a fucking animal who's been torturing you for years.

He almost killed you, for Christ's sake.

And why'd you shoot him on the leg for?

I told you not to improvise.

I don't need this shit, Gail. I'm hanging up.

No. Please don't. I'm sorry.

I like you and all, Gail.

Our sex on the phone is great.

But being a lesbian in real life...

It would feel like I've used all my options, you know.

You understand?

He never used to beat me up before Taiwan.

The war broke him up inside.

And now he wants to break me up outside.

Sick, isn't it? - Lynette.

You didn't shoot him on the leg.

You're not gonna leave him, are you?

No.

No, I'm not.

I'm at home.

We decided to give it another try.

Leave me alone.

I'm in no mood to fight with you today.

Don't mess with my high.

Take me.

Or kill me.

Stab me in the back for all I care.

I know you can't look me in the face.

Loverboy. - Shut up, you mad fuck.

This is Eva Vogler. You could not reach me at the moment.

Just leave your message after the beep,

and I will get back to you as soon as possible.

If you're not in a hurry,

you can also try to reach me through the Blair Witch Institute.

Thank you.

Eva it's me, Claire.

I don't know if you even listen to these messages.

Maybe your battery's dead.

Or you've lost your phone, whatever.

I can't believe you flew to LA on your own.

I'm here now too.

I'm dealing with the press, night and day, obviously.

I went to Paris first.

Left Anneke with her father.

She's safe and well.

Thinks you're on a business trip as usual.

As I told you in the previous message,

we've really been banging our heads together.

And we are sure we can work this out on your favour.

We think you should give an announcement

that you exposed your vulva

as a protest against war.

We haven't decided which war yet,

but we'll figure it out.

Something that doesn't rock the boat too much.

How does gender war sound like to you?

I cancelled the meeting at Paramount.

They were a little disappointed but don't worry about it.

They are stillvery interested in turning your story into a film.

Everybody wants you, Eva.

Everybody loves you.

Needless to say the social media is about to explode.

Someone keeps posting photos of...

...of a woman

wandering aimlessly on Hollywood Boulevard

wearing the same dress you had on at the Nobels.

Please tell me it isn't you, Eva.

Soon we are running out of time.

But this is not the end.

It's not.

Please.

Please, Eva, call me.

She's lost.

Delirious.

May I be blunt, Goneril?

If you must.

Sometimes I think I could be satisfied

only with words.

And intense eye contact.

A man would undress me with his wit,

Talk to me, softly.

Untill just couldn't take it any longer.

Daydreams, Regan.

Daydreams.

There is moisture under this desert.

I can feel it.

A lake, perhaps.

Imagine we could soak our eyes in clear blue water.

Eva!

I forgive you!

Come back!

This is Dr. Sabine Chevalier from Supernova Health, zurich, calling.

Now, I have the results of your brain scan here in front of me.

And it looks exactly what I expected to see

and what we talked about.

Now, you have some brain damage

in the right frontal lobe of your brain.

Just behind the eye socket.

Now, the area affected is very small, fortunately.

This is a very typical finding in people

in a position of power.

I have treated many in the banking sector, especially.

And also in political sector from right to left.

It doesn't matter. It's all the same.

Now, about the treatment option.

The best result have come through cognitive approach.

This means that the client is sent to live

in a very low income suburban area of a large city.

The client must live there from two months up to six months.

And this is to... for the client to see

how ordinary or poor people live their lives,

to make new social bonds

and also to regain...

Especially to regain a sense of empathy

which is something that is lost

with this kind of brain damage.

Now, I could not help to see the news.

What happened to you in the Nobel Gala

is very typical behaviour of this kind of problem.

It is reckless behaviour and impulsive...

It's me. Elin.

Do you remember me?

I am your stupid half-sister

who calls you even though you never answer.

So stupid I am.

You pretend to be so damn important.

Right?

But I know who you are, Eva.

When you came to us,

you were a dirty little troll

who lied all the time.

Everything you have ever said about us.

It's all lies.

That we made you clean the house every day.

That you slept all alone in the attic, full of mice.

And that daddy abused you.

That is not true, Eva.

Do you hear me?

Do you hear me, fucking Cinderella?

No. No, no, no.

No, Eva.

Eva!

Leave her alone, Satan!

I forgive you!

Don't do it, Eva.

Eva. Don't do it, Eva.

I command you.

I command you.

No, no!

You corruptor of faith! Corruptor of justice!

I command you!

Stay away from me.

One day last year

Everything around me turned to sand

My one room apartment

My piano

My books

My memories

The street she used to live at

It wasn't meant to be

Her kisses bittersweet

Her beauty

That ripples.

This is not who I am!

I don't know about you.

But I would just like to feel alive, you know?

Like there's actual blood running through my veins.

Honest to God, even my skin has gone cold and damp.

My flesh is like meat jelly over my bones.

Am I dead? - Lynette.

Has the bastard finally killed me?

That's what I'd like to know. - Lynette.

Is that your real name, Lynette?

Annette, Jeanette, Lynette...

What's it to you, huh?

They said in the news,

that soon all connection will be lost.

And there will be a long silence

caused by an alien intervention.

And that we should buy some canned food.

Medicine. And toilet paper.

And stay inside until further notice.

I've gotta go.

I have a long night ahead of me.

The bastard makes me do the house chores between eleven and four AM

because of the cheap electricity.

Lynette... - I'm sorry, Gail, but I can't help you.

We all have our own desert to cross.

And I thank you for the ride.

But please don't call me anymore.

Ever. Okay?

This is Eva Vogler. You could not reach me at the moment.

Just leave your message after the beep,

and I will get back to you as soon as possible.

If you're not in a hurry,

you can also try to reach me through the Blair Witch Institute.

Thank you.

Dear Eva. It's Palme calling.

We should try to call things by their proper names.

What's happening now, is the torturing of people.

Torturing of a nation just to humiliate it.

Make them submit in the name of power.

And that is why the bombings are despicable.

Many such atrocities have been perpetrated in recent history.

And they are always associated with a name.

Guernica. Oradour. Babi Yar.

Katyn. Lidice. Sharpeville.

Treblinka. Hanoi.

I'm in no mood to continue, Eva.

Violence triumphed.

But those who came after condemned the perpetrators.

Yet again, a new name is added to the list.

What is that name, Eva?

What should one think of this silence?

The world is on fire,

and you are playing the role of an actress,

who refuses to speak.

This is not a Bergman film.

We have travelled far from all that is true.

So, you have some to search for your soul.

Or perhaps that little cashier you once were.

The one you left shivering on a bus stop somewhere.

How long have you been here, Eva?

Are they even looking for you anymore?

We met once. Do you remember?

We made love on the highest of the dunes.

You didn't feel soft under my embrace,

but muscular and strong.

Beauty of the future. Electrifying.

And you burst out laughing when you came.

We talked all night, human to human.

About our dreams, about Social Democracy.

About human dignity, about freedom.

And the war that is on its way,

will be the most devastating war of the postmodern, postoriginal age.

The war of the doppelgängers.

that will leave behind a desert.

Eva, you hurt me. You can't hurt me like that...

Do you remember the man I courted after Stanley had killed me?

The little man.

The little man, Regan.

He was so small I could wear him as a tie.

Look over there.

Yet another missing person.

Men.

Forever possessed with themselves.

Hunger is rattling the bones of the Empire.

Look around you.

All of this, a graveyard.

Men and graveyards.

Sex and death.

That's all we ever talk about.

Don't be ridiculous. Sex died ages ago.

His double arrived.

Perhaps a cock fight will cheer us all up.

There must be something other than this.

The queen is dead.

The king is dying.

Perhaps we should prepare a goat.

There are no goats left, Regan.

The lions?

No. The drought.

Yes?

You are home?

I have left the ceremonial field.

You left me here?

That's right. You had become a burden.

I've rented a room in the metaverse.

I live in the clouds now.

It's wonderful and light.

My life is completely devoid of meaning.

You don't seem to be doing too good.

I am dying.

Yes, yes. That appears to be the case.

Before I would have felt sorry for you.

But I have outsourced my feelings.

The Metaverse sends you its condolences.

Home.

Take me. Home.

The concept is not familiar to me.

This isn't sometimes

This is always

This isn't maybe

This is always

You heavy motherfucker.

You heavy motherfucker.

Much better. It's kickin' in.

Delicate hands.

A pianist, I would say.

You play at those cheap hotels.

You keep waiting to be discovered.

To become someone.

But the days of discovery are over.

It's all bullshit.

The tragedy is not,

that the utopia failed.

The tragedy is that it came true.

She began to avoid my touch.

And pulled away.

"Your hands are rough", she said.

These fingers have no acid burns.

Have they?

They have never oiled filthy engines, oh no.

They've only fiddled with ivory keys,

erected nipples, post coital cigarettes.

These fingers disgust me.

But I'm not jealous, if that's what you think.

I've given up on women. And arms.

But how many shadows does a man have to burn

to set himself free?

How many?

Why are you still here, Eva?

Why won't you just apologise for your little faux pas,

and let the spectacle continue without further interruptions.

You're much too popular to be burned at the stake.

Just yet.

I feel for you, Eva.

My father was never there for me either.

Always too busy to save the world.

Funny, isn't it?

Now He's hiding in the desert.

Like a relic.

An anthropological freak.

Your father is here too.

Have you seen him?

He wears a long, black coat and a stocking over his head.

Bless me Father, for I have sinned.

Your son forever.

And forever.

I would stay and make love to you, Eva.

But I'm playing chess with Satan at the bonfire.

We serve our voters best from here.

Just like you.

Evil has become transparent.

It's liquid and light.

Be careful.

My makeup is flaking

like paint.

Peeling off the canvas.

I'm looking at

a portrait

of an unknown woman.

A woman from the past.

Her eyes set on the future.

Measuring a distance, she thinks.

She becomes obsessed with measuring.

She measures the waist of her wedding gown.

The duration of her husband's embrace.

Temperatures, tones, and gestures she measures.

Reads them as signs like a witch.

She measures her menstrual cycle.

Her weight after childbirth.

Her wound.

The height of her son

until he grows out of reach.

And the years, of course. The years.

She measures his absence

against her spine.

His soul, she has learned,

is an airport.

At night, she flies.

Crossing time zones and light years.

Only to find his double with a new set of keys.

During the day, she feels heavy and fat.

Her thoughts crash on windy barrens.

She soaks her hair in tears until it falls off.

Through the layers upon layers of sand,

I can hear the roaring of an ancient city.

It lies near the earth's core in flames.

I could write myself back in.

Tune my blood to the atonal passion

that God himself escaped to the silence of the desert.

This is Eva Vogler. You could not reach me at the moment.

Just leave your message after the beep,

and I will get back to you as soon as possible.

If you're not in a hurry

you can also try to reach me through the Blair Witch Institute.

Thank you.

I'm on my way to a meeting but I just wanted to congratulate you

on the show you put on at the Nobels.

I fucking loved it.

It's exactly what the Institute needs and I'll eat my hat,

if it won't turn into a social media phenomenon in a matter of hours.

Political Anasyrma gone viral. I fucking love it.

I'm sure Hilary's waiting by the phone already.

Well, got to go. Cheerio.

Eva, it's me, Claire.

We have finally located you.

I beg you, Eva darling, please stay where you are.

Do not continue this game.

You're running around in pantyhose in the most dangerous part of the city.

Anything can happen at any moment.

Please find a safe spot and stay put.

We'll be there in a couple of minutes with the paramedics.

And Eva,

I will take full responsibility of not finding you earlier on.

In your last message you said you were lost in the desert.

So that's where we have been looking for you.

I had no idea you were being allegorical.

That's so not you.

Well, I'll see you soon.

Thank you for the dress.

I haven't had clothes for a long time.

You have been neglecting me.

You've kept me hidden in the cleaning closet,

like I were a giant insect.

But I have been patient.

I have been gathering strength.

I've become as resilient as a cockroach

under nuclear winter.

Now I will go back and seduce the world.

I will wrap it around my finger.

You will stay here

and let the desert grind you into dust.

I am the one you have sold and forgotten.

I am your ghost.

Your caricature.

I am the one who survives this desert.

The orgy of the doubles.