All language subtitles for Northern Exposure s03e06 tion.eng

Where did you find him, Chris?

West fork of the No-name.

Must've broken off that
glacier field up in Box Canyon.

Oh, I don't know.

You know, landing the big ones
is really the hard part.

He has gentle eyes.

Does he look French to you?

Well, maybe.

Ready in the freezer?

Yeah, just one more box of mooseburgers
to move around, boss.

Well, step on it there, Dave.
We're losin' him here.

Okay, okay.

Hi, Dr. Fleischman. Isn't it stimulating?

All depends, Shelly.
This is our stiff, I take it.

He was a fine specimen
in his time.

This ice must be, what-
six or eight feet thick.

Our guess is he's been frozen
a hundred years. Maybe more.

- The leggings are a dead giveaway.
- You're joking, right?

No way this body's more
than a year old, if it is even a body-

excuse me-which I doubt.

Looks more like a mannequin
or a wax dummy maybe.

Well, whatever it is, it's Chris's find.
He's donated it to Cicely.

It's a historic landmark.
What we plan to do-

Whoa, wait a minute.
You have to contact the authorities.

- I thought you said it was a dummy.
- If it's not a dummy, it's a body.

If it's a body, it's somebody's body, which
means the authorities have to be notified.

As far as I'm concerned, after a hundred
years, carrion becomes memorabilia.

Comin' through.
Watch your backs. Comin' through.

Hey, be careful, Dave!

Look, even if he is real,
he can't be a hundred years old.

I thought cryogenics could preserve
a body for centuries, Fleischman.

See, once again a little PBS
proves a dangerous thing.

Cryogenics is a laboratory science-
liquid helium, controlled conditions.

I mean, in the wild,
autolysis and putrefaction...

must follow necrosis
like, uh, night follows day.

Animals die here all the time. Has anyone
ever seen a frozen moose on a stick?

No. Nature reclaims its own.

How do you explain this?
What is it?

- It's his journal.
- What? Anyone can own a journal.

It's in French.

You're a Canuck, Holling.
Why don't you give it a try?

My French is awful rusty.

Be careful, my friend.
You're opening a portal to the past.

Let's see. It's the diary
of Pierre Le, uh, Moulin.

- April the 2nd. 1814.
- 1814?

Well, come on. If that
doesn't tell you something.

"All is lost. Paris fallen.

- Emperor in foul mood."
- Emperor?

- What emperor?
- Napoleon.

Oh, right.
And I'm Pep� Le Pew.

- Keep going, Holling.
- Yeah, yeah, yeah.

I can't. I'm- I have to get
my reading glasses.

- Oh, here. Here. I'll try.
- Oh, this oughta be good.

Fleischman, I had a semester
at the Sorbonne.

"Emperor still angry with Talleyrand.

Elba not bad."

"Elba not bad"? What is that?
The radical chic translation?

"Elba pas mal."

- How would you say it, Fleischman?
- Who's Elba?

She's an island, honey.
Oh.

Hey, whatever is in that freezer,
I guarantee...

it is not a 200-year-old Frenchman
who was buddies with Napoleon.

- Why should we take your word for it?
- Fine.

Wheel him out here and
turn up the heat, and I'll prove it.

Oh, no. Nobody defrosts Pierre.

Hey, hey! Hold it there.

Go for the back of the knee.
Less chance of defacement.

Excuse me. Excuse me.

Dave, we're in the middle
of something here.

We're out of fries.
Got people to feed.

Drill.

- You're not gonna believe this.
- Understatement of the hour.

"June 21, 1815. Terrible storm.

- Made landfall last night."
- Landfall?

- Shore.
- Shore where?

Here.
Here where?

Here, here.
Alaska?

Listen to this. "June 28.

Napoleon still depressed
over missing Waterloo. "

Oh, wonderful. I- I- love it. I Now
Napoleon wasn't at the Battle of Waterloo.

It gets better.
"July 11. Fished all morning.

Met Matchka, enchanting native girl.
Emperor enthralled."

Hot-blooded little Corsican,
wasn't he?

Here's the last entry.

"Two days to coast,
then good-bye � l'Alaska.

Sad to leave emperor
but miss Paris so."

Come on, you guys. Get serious.

If this dummy is Napoleon�s buddy,
then I'm the queen of Spain.

We have skin.

Pierre's the first celebrity
we've ever had in Cicely.

Well, the first dead celebrity anyway.

I don't know much about Napoleon.

I always thought it was funny, them
naming a guy after a little flaky pastry.

I wonder why he left France.
I mean, he was emperor, right?

Who quits the business when
they're at the top of the charts?

- Well, he had some troubles at home.
- Relationship problems?

No, I was thinking along the lines
of a popular revolt.

But now that you mention it,
he could have been fleeing...

some bad vibes in the romance department.

What happened?

Well, he had to ditch
his beloved Josephine...

because she couldn't bear
him children,

and complications ensued.

He dumped her because of that?

It's very important to some men, Shel.
Napoleon wanted a son,

an heir to carry on the Bonaparte name.

How's the gooseberry pie today?

- Shel?
- Huh?

- Gooseberry pie?
- Oh, we-we ran out.

- Mornin', Ruth-Anne.
- Oh, hi, Ed.

I can put your name on a waiting list.

Oh. Thanks, Ruth-Anne.

- Number 17.
- What's the list for?

You didn't come in
for books on Napoleon?

No, but that's an excellent idea.

Well, what
can I get you then?

Oh, I came in
because of the sign in the window.

- "Special on Huggies"?
- No, the "Help Wanted" sign.

Oh. Aren't you working
for Maurice anymore?

Oh, yeah. Well, he's real busy
mapping out the future,

and I could use the extra money.

I just sent my latest script in
to a real Hollywood producer.

Is this to a person you know, Ed?

Oh, no. He ran this ad
in American Film.

"Write scripts that sell.

Critical analysis
of your script, $200."

Two hundred dollars? I assume
whoever this is has sold a lot of scripts.

Oh, I hope so.

Were you looking for
any kind of help in particular?

I don't have much background
in retail work.

Restocking, labeling-
you know, general help.

I could do that.

Animal, vegetable or mineral, Fleischman?

Animal. Human animal.

Pierre is definitely human. Or was.

All right! Good job, Fleischman.

Great work.
Now we can move to phase two.

Well, I don't want to rain
on your cadaver, Maurice,

but all we've confirmed is that Pierre
was a living, breathing person.

Yeah. What else could there be?

Well, I can't put an estimate
on his date of expiration.

- Why not?
- I just - I don't have the equipment.

Fleischman! The must crucial
piece of equipment in any mission...

is the man in charge.

Now, you're a scientist.

But more important,
you're a New Yorker.

You were born
with an innate skepticism,

a natural sense of superiority
in the way of the world.

You've got all the equipment
right here.

All I'm asking is
that you use it for me.

For Cicely.

Well, I suppose I could devise
a few tests.

I could examine the fabric.

Good boy. I knew
I could count on you.

I'm gonna put all my plans on hold
until you sign off on Frenchie here.

History is powerful stuff.

One day your world's fine; the next,
it's knocked for a metaphysical loop.

Was Napoleon really at Waterloo?
Would that change what I had for breakfast?

Thoughts turn to our
refrigerated friend, Pierre Le Moulin.

Pierre the Windmill.

Stepchild to history.

Man, if those chapped lips could speak,
what would they say?

Bonjour? Mes amis, j'ai faim?

I saw your lips moving
from across the room, O'Connell.

Gotten to the part yet where they meet up
with Kit Carson and Buffalo Bill?

- Oh, Fleischman, park it somewhere else.
- Any other bombshells to drop?

- She's pregnant.
- Who?

Matchka.

- The little guy finally got one in the oven.
- Yeah.

This is almost touching.
I mean, really, the na�vet�.

Has anyone stopped to consider the sheer
absurdity of what we're talking about?

What? You mean Matchka
gettin' preggers so quick?

I mean Pierre and Napoleon.
How did they get here?

747? QE2?

Where did they sail from? Why?
Didn't they read the brochures?

Fleischman, for your information, there was
a steady stream of Russians to Alaska by 1800.

Fur traders.

Yeah, Napoleon and Pierre could have
pretended they were trappers. That'd work.

- Thanks for sharing.
- What is your problem?

Fleischman, why does this
bug you so much?

You know why this bugs me so much?
Because there's the small matter...

of historic record to deal with.

It is a known fact Napoleon lost
at Waterloo, abdicated the throne...

and spent the rest of his life
in exile on St. Helena

it is a known fact, O'Connell. Yes. It is in
every history book ever written, O'Connell.

Now, who is being naive now,
Fleischman?

I bet you think Oswald acted alone.

Here you go, Fleischman.
I snipped it off Pierre's sleeve myself.

Kind of makes me feel... unclean.

I'll bet anything there's strands of nylon
or rayon in here, some kind of synthetic.

Then we'll see whose version
of history stands up.

Would you look at this, Ruth-Anne.
That's not a can of peas.

- That's a can of art.
- Do you want it?

Could I?

- It's yours.
- Right. Thanks.

And this is for your good work today.

See you tomorrow, Ed.

Would you like to come to dinner
tonight, Ruth-Anne? I'll cook.

- Don't you have plans?
- No, not really.

Well, dinner would be nice, Ed.

- Vegetarian or con carne?
- I'm easy.

I won't use the peas.
They're for appreciating.

I don't understand.
We sterilized the test tubes.

We verified the purity of the reagents.
We ran control groups.

- We did everything.
- I know.

- Maybe you'll think of something.
- What's to think?

I- I've checked this eight times.
I've proven it.

Although pathology was never my strong suit,
I'm pretty sure the body checks out too.

All right. Here's the deal.

Pierre's real.
He lived over 176 years ago.

I mean, he may have even
written a diary. I can accept that.

H- He's real, but he's a nut.

Yeah, yeah, the diary is the manifestation
of a highly disturbed personality.

Yes! Okay, um, uh, symptoms.
Other than the diary,

what corroborating physical evidence
could there be for mental impairment?

A missing frontal lobe, perhaps.

My cousin ate bad berries once.
Thought he was a tree.

Diet. Excellent, Marilyn!
Excellent!

We remove the stomach,
examine its contents.

Wha-What kind of cup
did Pierre drink from?

Lead poisoning can produce
hallucinations.

There'd be signs of cerebral edema.

The liver, the kidney would have
internuclear inclusion bodies.

Maurice will never
let you cut him up.

Take a nap.

How can I nap when the course
of Western civilization...

as we know it rests on my shoulders?

Do you realize the can of worms
that this would open up?

I mean, not to mention what it would do
to the textbook industry.

It's like saying the moon
is made of green cheese.

Where does that leave Mars?
Gorgonzola?

I mean, if Napoleon wasn't at Waterloo, m
- maybe Washington never crossed the Delaware.

Maybe Joshua never fought
the Battle of Jericho.

It is like opening up
a trapdoor to oblivion.

If you can't count on history, what can
you count on? I mean, where does it end?

I sound like O'Connell.
I mean, she's got everyone convinced...

there's some lost tribe of Napoleons
and Matchkas out there spouting Proust.

- Well?
- Well what?

There are the Tellakutans.

- Would you like more fruit cocktail?
- Oh, no, thanks.

Everything was delicious.

I thought we'd take a little break
before dessert.

- Okay. Can I help with the dishes?
- Oh, that's okay.

I have instant coffees
of the world.

- Wonderful.
- What nationality?

- Bavarian chocolate mint?
- Good choice.

Just make yourself comfortable.
This is only gonna take a second.

Okay.

"To Ed. Best, Woody Allen."

- Isn't that nice.
- Yeah. Woody's the greatest.

You know, he has Manhattan,

Ingmar has Sweden,
and I have Cicely.

Although I'm gonna have to move to
Fairbanks before my dream is realized.

Well, I see you've given this
a lot of thought.

Uh-huh. Still, it's hard
not to have doubts.

We all have doubts, Ed.
When I came north, I was full of' em.

Really? When was that?

1971. Bill's heart finally gave out.

- Who's Bill?
- My husband.

The kids were grown.
The country was in a mess.

So I put the house on the market, threw
some things in the car and hit the road.

Alice Doesn't Live Here Anymore.

One thing led to another,
and I ended up in Cicely, Alaska,

with a '61 DeSoto, a cat
and $800 in my pocket.

Wow. Where are your kids now?

Rudy's in Portland.
He drives a truck,

and he writes pastoral poetry
in his spare time.

And Matthew-

That boy had such promise.

What-What happened to him?

He's in Chicago.
He's an investment banker.

I'm sorry.

Life's full of surprises, Ed-
some happy and some not.

Yeah.

Good coffee.

Well, I sure am pooped.

Good night.

Don't you want
to fool around, babe?

It's been a long day, Shelly.
I've got a headache.

Holling?
Huh?

Is it Pierre?

Having a dead guy in the freezer-
that's a real turnoff for you, isn't it?

We've had bodies
in the freezer before, Shelly.

You hate my lip gloss. I shouldn't have
switched, but Ruth-Anne was out of-

Your lips taste fine, Shelly.
It's just that I'm tired.

Let's try to get some sleep.
All right?

All right.

See you in the morning, Shelly.

So the boy's bona fide, huh?

Well, as far as a medical degree
from one of the...

nation's outstanding institutions
of higher learning can determine, yes.

But I still think we should turn Pierre
over to experts for confirmation.

Let 'em fight for the privilege.

You've done an outstanding
job for Cicely, Joel.

I won't forget it.

- Bye, Marilyn.
- Bye, Maurice.

- She's here.
- Who's here?

There's something wrong with me,
Dr. Fleischman. Something basic.

- Okay. Can you give me a bit of a hint?
- Yeah.

- Well, like, I'm barren.
- Barren?

Yeah, like the Sahara
or Death Valley or-

You know, barren - nothing grows,
no water, can't get knocked up.

My womb's a sandbox,
Dr. Fleischman.

Shelly, one hysterical pregnancy
does not imply infertility.

You know how some people
walk through poison ivy,

and everybody else gets these
big, ugly blotches, but they don't?

- Natural immunity.
- Yeah.

Well, that must be
what I have with sperm.

I mean, I've been around it
a lot, Dr. Fleischman,

but the little buggers
never take root.

Well, Shelly, you practice
some kind of birth control, don't you?

Something.
I mean, you use something.

Obviously I don't have to.
Is there some way to see...

if maybe just a little, tiny flower
could bloom someday?

Well, sure. There's all kinds
of tests we can, uh, run.

- It's just, they take time.
- I don't care.

Okay, fine. Make an appointment
for you and Holling, and we'll-

Holling? He has to be here?

Yes, I definitely need Holling for this,
Shelly. I-You need Holling for this.

But I just want the test on me!

Well, they involve
a small contribution from the male.

Oh, God!

Shelly, what is the problem
in telling Holling?

Because if it turns out to be true, he's gonna
dump me like Napoleon dumped Josephine.

- Holling said that?
- Well, not in those words.

Well, what words did he use?

None. But ever since
that dumb Pierre showed up,

he flips out every time
somebody mentions Napoleon.

And then Chris told me
what happened to Josephine.

And you put two and two together
and came up with 22?

Yeah.

You folks just go on home now.

I have had it. I've been here
for two days. I'm worn out.

You can come back and see Pierre some
other time. He ain't gonna melt or anything.

I've been showing that piece of frozen
French ice since day before yesterday.

- I am worn out.
- The price of fame, I take it.

I guess so.
Well, what can I get you, Joel?

Actually I'd like to talk to you,
Holling, if you have a minute.

- Sure.
- Um, it's about Shelly.

Damn. She suspects, doesn't she?

- It's true?
- She can read me like an open book.

It's totally absurd, Holling.
Shelly's not infertile.

Even if she were, you could
always adopt.

- Adopt what?
- Children.

I don't want any children.

- What's all this about a barren womb?
- Womb?

Yeah, womb. Shelly's womb.

Death Valley.

Maybe you oughta tell me
what's on your mind, Holling.

Joel, this is something
I have never told anyone.

I planned to take it
to the grave with me.

But since Pierre showed up,
it's like a sign.

You cannot outrun
your past, Joel.

I come from royalty.
French royalty.

A direct line from Louis XIV,
on my father's side.

Shelly, order up!

You don't believe me, do you?
Well, in a normal week, maybe not.

But compared to Pierre,
this one's relatively easy to swallow.

Our original name was De Vincoeur.

We're bluebloods, Joel.
Aristocrats of the worst kind.

We abused the peasants,
raped the countryside.

By the time we got to my
Great-great-grandfather Claude,

the family estates
had been run to the ground.

The peasants had all fled.
There was no one left to abuse,

so Claude came to Canada where
he blew the rest of our family money...

gambling, drinking, exploiting
the local Indian population.

His son and grandson...

and, yes, even my own father,
they were all the same.

Joel, they were awful people.

Hardhearted, despicable
creatures, one and all.

Not one ounce of the milk
of human kindness in the lot of them.

Which is why, when I came to Alaska,

out of shame and remorse
over what my kin had done,

I dropped the "De"
from the family name.

- Fantastic.
- So you can see my problem then?

No, you're still
one step ahead of me there.

Shelly thinks I'm a plain man
from a plain stock.

When she finds out
that I am aristocratic scum,

it will break her heart
and, hence, mine.

Holling, what your family did, your
ancestors, has got nothing to do with you.

We are all just genes, Joel.

And this mortal coil,
nothing more than a vessel...

by which the gene pool
is transported...

from one flower to the next.

And the Vincoeur pool is poisoned.

So what you're saying is your family
is like this genetic Chernobyl?

Which is why I desire no heirs.

The De Vincoeur line dies with me.

- Ed? Anyone home?
- It's open.

- You all right, Ed?
- Yeah, I guess.

I got my script back.

And what did this big shot
producer fella have to say?

- He hated it.
- Your movie script?

- Yep. Said it sounded familiar.
- What's it about?

Nothing much. Just my life.

He said your life sounded familiar?

Yep. He said I had no midpoint,
whatever that is.

Well, did he make
any helpful suggestions?

Oh, yeah.

To consider a vocation
more suitable to my natural abilities.

What are you going to do?

I think this is what they call a critical
juncture in a young man's career.

- Ed?
- Yeah.

Remember my son I told you about,
the investment banker?

- Rudy.
- Matthew.

That boy could've been
a musician.

You should have heard him
play the trumpet.

Just like Bix Beiderbecke.

Warm, round tone.

I ruined it for him.

To this day, I feel guilty.

Y- You told him to quit?

No. I told him to play all the time.
I- I told him how good he was.

You see, Ed,
I didn't put anything in his way.

An artist needs obstacles.

He needs to contend...
to find out what he's made of.

Matthew didn't have to fight
for his art.

Eventually he forgot the horn,
went to business school,

and you know the rest.

Was he really good?

Well, I don't know whether
he could have earned a living.

But I do know that when he left
his music behind,

he left part of his soul.

Comin' to work tomorrow?

Good.

Hey, Fleischman,
aren't you going to the meeting?

Are you okay?

Fleischman, you look
like your dog just died.

If you had a dog,
which is doubtful,

considering your lack of empathy
for the animal kingdom.

That's terrific bedside manner, O'Connell.
I feel better already. Thanks.

Fleischman, you're just depressed because you
think we're all morons for believing in Pierre.

- No.
- No?

No. I'm depressed
because I believe in Pierre.

All those years of rigorously honed
academic skills out the window.

I mean, the painstaking-
not to mention the expensive-

development of a state-of-the-art,
late-20th-century mind.

In one fell swoop, my whole gestalt
is in the toilet. Kaplooey.

Well, Fleischman,
I gotta say I'm, uh-

Well, I don't know
what the right word is.

- What?
- Amazed.

What is it around here?
The water? The air?

I feel like I'm changing.

I'm mutating in some
horribly grotesque way.

I actually- I believe that Napoleon
was here instead of at Waterloo.

What happened to me?

My-My faculties,
my- my sense of self.

I'm losing it.

I'm glad to see the total meltdown of my
psyche is so amusing to you, O'Connell.

Oh, Fleischman, come on.

It's life growth.

Look, you came here
with a limited grasp of the world.

What's so wrong
with-with losing that?

Huh? Come on.

That's great. Thanks again.

We don't have
the artist's rendering yet,

but it'll be a tasteful little museum,

featuring Pierre's refrigerated casket,

right in the center
of Napoleon Square.

Maurice, I applaud the amount
of imagination you've put into this thing-

build a Hyatt, they will come-
I think we all agree on that, right?

But, Maurice, tonight I'm troubled.

Chris, we're not gonna do anything
to destroy the beauty of Cicely.

That's why we're putting
all the parking underground.

I- I understand that, Maurice.

It's not the leveling of a sleepy, little town
into a commercial eyesore that bothers me.

- Then what is it?
- The metaphysical implications.

Unleashing Pierre changes history,

and that's heavy-duty trampling
on the karma of the collective unconscious.

Are we ready to accept
responsibility for that?

You wanna find your coordinates, son?
You're losing me here.

Maurice, thousands of the old
French Guard died at Waterloo.

Thousands of British and Prussians
died stopping them.

You take Napoleon out of that loop,
and what's left?

Haven't we stripped the meaning
of those deaths?

Made a mockery of the bloodshed?

Our lives are fragile things,
built on creaky foundations.

You chip away at the edifice of history,

and, well, you weaken one of the few
spiritual timbers we have left.

Did George Washington
really chop down that cherry tree?

Did Davy Crockett kill a bear
when he was only three?

It's pretty unlikely.

It makes our lives a little easier, though,
doesn't it? I mean, it's nice to think that.

I'm just saying that
revealing Pierre's secret...

might trigger a maelstrom of self-doubt,

releasing untold psychic devastation-

a metaphysical tsunami, if you will.

Thank you, Chris.

Now let's get back
to the business at hand, shall we?

No, wait a minute.
You know, Chris has a point.

We're only thinking of ourselves.

Yeah. What about Pierre?
How would he feel?

He's dead, Shelly.
He doesn't feel anything.

Now hold on. I Hold on here!

Sentiment's one thing,
but economic development-

controlled economic development-
is quite another.

I move we put Pierre back.

Sit down, lady!

There's a motion on the floor.
Fleischman.

Yeah, I hate to say this,
but I think Maurice may be right.

Now, Pierre has yielded
a new truth to the world,

and however ludicrous
and personally unsettling...

and regardless of its impact, I think
we have an obligation to tell that truth.

- Why?
- Yeah, why?

Because the truth
belongs to everyone.

What would've happened if Newton had
decided to keep the law of gravity to himself?

The truth initiates events
whose impact we can't foresee.

It's our responsibility to just tell it
and get out of the way.

There you go, ladies and gentlemen.
That's the opinion of a New York doctor.

A Jewish New York doctor.

Joel, I think that you're confusing
the truth with facts.

No, the facts change, Chris.
The truth is constant.

Oh, on the contrary, my friend,
the truth changes.

Oh, yeah? Give me an example.

The truth about Custer.
Hero or villain?

Civilizer or agent of genocide?

The truth slips and turns.
The facts remain the same.

Yeah? What about light?
Particle or wave?

I mean, it exhibits qualities of both.

When the truth is finally known, the facts
will be made to accommodate the truth.

Now they're getting
into paradox. Dicey stuff.

Well, Joel, let's distinguish
paradox from contradiction.

Can something be more
than one thing at the same time?

Father, Son and Holy Ghost?

We digress. I offer
the poet's vision of the ancient urn.

Truth is beauty, beauty truth.

We can serve and volley
semantics all night, Chris.

- The point is, if-
- Gentlemen.

Gentlemen, that's quite enough.

Let's, uh, get on with the business
at hand, shall we?

- So, what do you think?
- About what?

About the Seder.
It's Passover.

Yeah, I get that part.
Where are we?

- Radomysl, Poland.
- We're in Poland?

- And who are they?
- Your family.

And that's your Grandfather Jack,
the one that came to New York...

and started
the Fleischman's in Flushing.

You're kidding.

I That's your great-grandfather-
Ya'akov ben Y'hoshua.

Wow. I That must be
my Great-uncle Joel.

They named me after him.

Wait, wait! Don't drink that.
That's for Elijah. Where's your cup?

- This is my cup.
- Oh, wait a minute.

They can't see me, Joel.
Only you.

You are Elijah?

If you're Elijah, where's the little
robes and the long beard?

You don't like my suit?

No, I-I-The suit's fine.
I just- I didn't expect-

Come on, Joel.
You didn't expect anything.

You fill this cup every year.
You open the door.

But you certainly don't expect
Elijah to come waltzing in.

It flies in the face of reason.

What are you doing here?
I came to see you.

Me? Why?

Why not you?

The question is,
what are you going to do about it?

You want to help prepare
the way for the Messiah?

Maybe you'd rather turn me
into an amusement park, Joel.

Sell autographed cups.

"Elijah's back.
Fleischman's got him. "

It's your call, Yo'el.

Make your decision.
The clock is ticking.

Yeah.

Fleischman.
Can I come in?

- Sure. Come in. You got thin blood, son?
- I fell asleep in Holling's freezer.

Oh, well, come on.
Let me pour you a drink.

There's nothing like brandy
to revive your spirits.

Couple of stiff belts,
and you'll be good as new.

Thanks.

You look like you've seen a ghost.

- Yeah, I have.
- Oh, yeah? Who? Wellington?

- Elijah.
- Who?

He's an Old Testament prophet.
He left Earth in a chariot of fire.

He's supposed to come back
as an advance man for the Messiah.

- He came to see me in a dream.
- Yeah? What'd he want?

I think he was trying
to tell me something about Pierre.

Joel, that's a little far-fetched. I mean,
the time period's all wrong, for one thing.

The Jews believe Elijah's
going to come back one day.

The Tellakutans
have been waiting for Pierre.

I think we oughta
turn him over, Maurice.

I fear retribution
in a biblical proportion.

I mean, like Old Testament wrath.
Yahweh, you know?

Son, you're suffering
from hypothermia.

Just take your drink, sip it down...

and clam up.

Now, the way I see it,

the soul is the sacred
payload of us all.

The body is simply
a delivery vehicle.

Once we've completed our mission, we have
absolutely no use for the body at all.

I mean, hell, all those boosters
I rode into space...

are now nothing more than pieces...

of a billion-dollar junk heap
on the Atlantic Shelf.

Now, if those little Indians want
a memento of their sacred legend,

let 'em take a life cast.

But I am not going to allow
some half-pint half-breeds...

to talk me into giving up Pierre.

That's more than just a body
in that freezer, son.

That is the future.

Holling, if you are gonna dump me for some bimbo
with copper plumbing, then get it over with.

Shelly- Otherwise, quit moping around
like some sad-eyed little bug...

who'd rather sigh and moan
than fool around.

There's something I have to show you.

"De Vincoeur Est Mort. "

That was my great-great-uncle, Gustaf.

His death is still celebrated
in some parts of France.

- You mean like Lincoln's birthday?
- I mean like the death of Satan.

- Wow.
- He had people killed.

He stole other men's wives.

He was an awful, evil,
terrible man.

Wow!

Wow! Creepy.

And all this time, I thought it was me.
But it was you!

- You put me through a lot, Holling.
- I know.

Well, I'm really bummed out
you didn't tell me about this before.

I'm your squeeze!

If you don't tell me all the terrible things
about you, how am I supposed to find out?

Come here.

I guess your telling me now
is something.

But it doesn't make up for 200 years
of your family being total jerks.

But... it's a start.

Give it here.

- Wow!
- Feel that.

- Bands of steel.
- Years of labeling.

You think I could ever learn
to do that, Ruth-Anne?

Ed, I think you can do anything
that you put your mind to.

- Why?
- Why not?

No one ever said that
to me before, Ruth-Anne.

Well, what have other folks got
that you haven't got?

Parents.

They can be as much a hindrance
as a help, Ed. Believe me.

Remember what
I was telling you yesterday?

There's this screenwriter,
William Goldman.

He wrote Butch Cassidy,

um, All the President's Men,
Misery.

- Sounds top-notch.
- Oh, he is.

You know, he said nobody
in Hollywood knows anything.

- But I know something.
- What's that?

I'm never paying anyone $200
to read my scripts again.

They can stand in line and see
the movie, just like everyone else.

- That's the spirit.
- Pass the labeler, please.

Shel?

- Yeah, babe?
- More bacon, hon.

Okay.

Yuck.

Holling!

- What happened to him?
- He melted.

It was those little Frog Indians.

They defrosted my stiff and hauled
him out of here like a side of beef.

Do you know anything about this?

Oh, maybe it's for the best, Maurice.

For the best?

Chris, we were this close.

This close.

I'm gonna cover the muskeg
from here to Prudhoe.

I'll find those pygmies.

When I do, I'll bring
that stiff back here.

Okay, Fleischman, if you need
anything else, speak now.

Because I'm not making
a habit of this.

- How old am I, O'Connell?
- Twenty-nine.

Wrong. I'm four million years old.

Holling was right.
We're all... our genes.

Are you cracking up?
Fleischman, you're boiling!

Have you taken any aspirin for that?
No.

I've slept in trees.

I have crossed the Negev.

I have run from Cossacks.

It is all me.

The Lord is God.
The Lord is one.

Here. Sit up.

Here you go.
Take these.

What's my name?

Joel Fleischman.

No, it's Yo'el.

- Who?
- Yo'el ben Ya'akov.

Fleischman, you're scaring me.

It's okay, O'Connell. It's me.
I'm just free-associating here.

So you're okay?
Everything's fine?

- You were raving.
- Sorry.

Okay.

Look, I'll come back
and check on you in an hour.

You'd better be asleep.

You hear me? Okay?

Okay.

It's time for us to say au revoir to Pierre.

Where'd he come from?
Where is he going?

I guess we could all ask
the same questions of ourselves.

I'm gonna let a fellow Frenchman here
have the last words.

"When from a long distant past
nothing persists..."

"after the people are dead,"

"after things are broken and scattered,"

"still alone,"

"more persistent, more faithful,"

"the smell and taste of things
remain poised a long, long time..."

"like souls, ready to remind us,"

"waiting, hoping for their moment..."

"amid the ruins of all the rest..."

"and bear unfaltering in the tiny..."

"and almost impalpable drop
of their essence,"

the vast structure of recollection."

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