Original subtitles

-Name? -Carl Longbottom,

reporting for duty,

and prepared to glimpse through the veil of time.

That is the slogan of your magazine?

I am one of the new junior copy editors.

I was selected because of a short story I submitted.

Perhaps you read it? "Tears of the Anaren."

Weirdly enough, I didn't. Wait over there.

Look at this.

Heinlein signed this copy of Have Space Suit - Will Travel.

What I wouldn't give.

Although if I could pick any Heinlein to be autographed, I'd go with--

The Moon Is a Harsh Mistress?

-Yeah. How'd you know? -It was either that or Tunnel in the Sky.

-Tunnel in the Sky. -Tunnel in the Sky.

-"Watch out for stobor." -"…stobor!"

Peter Cromwell.

A.E. Goldsmith.

-Carl Longbottom. Are you also-- -Junior copy editors. First day.

Dream come true, isn't it?

It is a dream. I've only been in Los Angeles a few days.

I'm from Clear Lake, Iowa. No one reads Amazing Tales in Clear Lake,

much less quotes Heinlein.

-I feel like-- -You found your tribe?

Tri…pod.

There are three of us working together, like the three legs of--

The iconic Wellsian nightmare.

Coffee.

Is that Ursula K. Le Guin?

Ray Bradbury.

Isaac Asimov.

You three. Let's go. Come on.

So, here's a question I like to ask all my little pishers on their first day.

Why did I hire you?

Well, we submitted short stories that clearly showed promise.

Incorrect! You submitted short stories that were spelled right.

Verb tenses agreed.

Commas went where commas are actually supposed to go.

This makes you worth your weight in gold.

It's a figure of speech. You're worth $2 an hour. I start you at a buck 80.

But I know you didn't take this job to fix other people's grammar

or fetch me tuna sandwiches and Tab.

You took this job because you have a vision for yourselves.

What is that vision?

-Well, for me-- -Shut up. I'll tell you.

You wanna be published in my magazine.

You wanna be the next big thing.

Well, guess what. You might be.

Go back to those stories. Fix them up. Rewrite.

And then maybe, just maybe, I'll publish you.

That said, I've never published one of you copy edit schmucks before.

I doubt I ever will. If you can handle those odds, welcome aboard.

Now,

proofread those, retype them

and get me a tuna sandwich and a Tab.

Now! Come on. Let's go.

Okay, how about this? The most prolific writer in the world--

-Asimov. -Is Isaac Asimov.

What was the highest amount of published words he wrote in a single day?

-No idea. -20,000?

38,000.

My God, he's a machine.

-He's a robot. -I, Asimov.

-Hey. -Very good.

I'll take yours too, if you don't mind.

I'll just save the seeds.

-Madam, you are drunk. -Probably.

And therefore, it has improbably occurred to me, I love lemons,

why should I keep paying for them when I can simply grow my own?

No, no. Not with those. Those are dormant.

Apologies. Iowa.

You need a seed that can be germinated.

The right seed, the right conditions. Only then will it blossom.

Well, then…

To the seeds that blossom.

What?

-Nothing. It's silly. -Go on. Tell us.

All right. Well…

This morning we saw three legends.

Pillars of their craft.

Two great men, one great woman.

What if one day that is we?

We help each other.

Let's go home tonight, read each other's stories,

come back tomorrow with feedback, and help make each other better.

I can't. I'm pretty sure you two are on a way higher level than me.

Codswallop.

-Codswallop? -Codswallop.

Codswallop.

If there is an area where you need to grow, Peter,

we will help you grow.

I did xerox a couple copies of my story

-when Sol wasn't looking. -I made ten.

Twenty-four.

"'Transistor Moon' by A.E. Goldsmith."

"'The Horror of Westerley Mansion' by Peter Cromwell."

"'Tears of the Anaren' by Carl Longbottom."

Tears, like rips.

"Tears of the Anaren."

Yes, and Anaren.

"Tears of the Anaren."

"Anaren." It's a trilled rhotic as in Tolkien's Quenya.

Got it.

That's interesting.

So tonight, we read. Tomorrow we share.

'Cause you're a moron.

God.

-I'm going to lunch, Rose. -Nobody gives a shit, Sol.

Okay. Whose story goes first?

Not me, please. I'll go last.

-Okay. -Peter it is.

It was violent. It was nauseating.

You had a tentacle creature eat a baby.

I know. I'm sorry.

I loved it. It's cosmic horror.

You have to take chances, you have to shock.

-I only have one suggestion. -Yes. Please. Anything.

Don't have the family choose to go to the mansion on their own.

Have them get a mysterious invitation.

And then the killing starts.

That's brilliant, A.E. Thank you.

I wish I could return the favor, but

"Transistor Moon" is nearly perfect.

Start throwing punches or I'm gonna lose respect for you.

Well, I had one small thought.

So you've got the blind girl and the alien.

And it seems to me that she's the only one who could understand his isolation.

So don't change the story,

but let me experience it through the lens of that relationship.

Oh, my God.

That's gonna elevate everything.

Peter, you're amazing.

Well, I guess that leaves "Tears of the Anaren."

Yeah.

It's…

It's really--

It's…

-A.E.? -Me?

No, it's…

I mean, you definitely have your eye on the future.

-Thank you. -Sure.

But your actual vision of it is…

Okay. You predict a world where we--

Sorry, the Anaren,

have evolved to have a flesh pouch on their back.

Yes, to carry things.

Right. But we have backpacks now.

What evolutionary challenge are you answering?

Well, it is science fiction, Peter.

Sure. But it has to be connected to reality.

Same with your thing about robot horses. Why would we--

The Anaren.

Sorry, the Anaren, build robot horses

when we already have cars which are far simpler and way faster?

Because they're robot horses.

Right.

Carl, it's not enough to propose a future where things are just different.

They have to be unexpected and inevitable at the same time.

I must admit, I didn't expect this.

But I will take your advice

and turn "Tears of the Anaren" into--

And about that, why is it tears and not tears?

'Cause they are crying at one point.

You have notes on the title too?

You know what? Doesn't matter.

Just make your vision compelling.

Really see the world that's yet to come.

Yes.

Yes, that's it.

That's it.

Oh, yes, that's very good!

Yes. The muse has struck. I see her clearly now.

Yes, it's coming. It's all coming now. I see it so clearly, finally.

At last! Yes. Yes.

So--

You said you've been rewriting this for a week?

What do you mean?

It doesn't seem like a ton has changed.

There's something different on every page.

To be fair, they're mostly surface changes.

For instance, before, you had the Anaren raising enormous bears as pets,

and now you've made them very tiny bears.

-Correct. -So… dogs.

And their home world went from a swamp planet to a desert planet.

Yes. I thought that was an elegant solve for the story problems.

By making them drier?

There are significant changes in this draft.

What about the technology I postulate?

The liquid plasma cauldron they dip their food in.

That is… fondue.

Hey, Carl. I know how it feels.

Writing is brutal for me.

I'm revising my story right now. I am struggling.

But I'm not struggling.

And it's not fondue.

The Anaren can't even digest cheese. I made a point of saying that.

Does that sound visionary to you, Carl?

I'm being honest,

because Sol and everyone else out there is gonna be ten times meaner.

I'm sorry if it's coming out harsh.

I swear I'm just trying to help you.

Should that be "coming out harsh…ly"?

No. "Coming" in this instance is a linking verb,

so it takes an adjective modifier.

Be patient with yourself. You will see it.

I know you will.

Is this about the xeroxing? Are we all getting axed?

If Sol fires A.E., he'll have to fire me too.

A tripod cannot stand on two legs.

All three of us abused the photocopier.

We won't let you take the fall for this.

Fifty dollars?

He's publishing my story.

What?

Next month, he's publishing "Transistor Moon."

Oh, my God. Congratulations!

You've already resubmitted. How efficient.

Here's the best part. I have credibility with him now,

so whenever you're ready to resubmit, I can get him to read it right away.

Guys, this is so good for us.

For us, yeah. Yes. I can see that.

-We have to celebrate. -Yes, please. Tonight.

-We're drinking this. -Yes.

Alcohol sounds good.

The work. The work comes first.

-Hello. Hello? -Peter, who is it?

I don't know. No one's saying anything.

Hello?

I see you two arrived at the same time.

Guess so.

We missed you last night.

Last night.

Slipped my mind.

Well, A.E. is just giving my revision a once-over before showing it to Sol.

Wonderful.

If you don't have time to skim through this, I'm all right with that.

You can just submit it as is.

-Is that-- -Tears of the Anaren?

It's a novel now.

Novella, really.

You did all that last night?

Yes.

And you?

Well, great. I'll just take both of them in.

You are never going to guess who is in the conference room again.

Isaac Asimov.

-Yes. I know. -You know?

In fact, I shared an elevator with him.

You shared an elevator with Isaac Asimov?

Did you say anything?

He actually introduced himself to me.

He asked me my name and what I did. I told him I was a writer too.

I'm a writer too.

And what did he say?

He said that was nice to hear, and I said, "Thank you, Mr. Asimov."

And he said, "Please, Carl, call me Isaac."

And I did.

That's nice.

-First-name basis? -Yes.

Okay. Peter…

-It wasn't good enough. -It's not good enough.

-But if you're willing to do more work-- -Of course.

He suggests filling out the mythology behind Westerleys

and their connection to the Ancient Terrors.

Something that could lead to more than one story.

A series. Yeah. I got it. I can do that.

And my novella?

Pretty much the same. Really excited by the tears.

And the Anaren. And…

Mm-hmm.

"Mm-hmm," what exactly?

Well, just generally speaking, Sol says keep refining.

He was specific about Peter's work.

Odd he should have so many thoughts on a 12-pager,

while my novella garners nothing more than the most generic of--

I didn't give it to him. Okay?

There.

Look, Carl.

Your novella has the same issues as your short story.

There's just more of it.

I'm really sorry I lied.

But if I show this to Sol…

I'm trying to save you the embarrassment.

Embarrassment?

I am not embarrassed by my work.

And frankly, I'm beginning to think you don't know what you're talking about.

-Hey. Hold on a second. -No.

She has been lording herself over me and you from the very start.

And why? Because you have one story published?

That doesn't make you Le Guin.

It just means Sol Green sees something in you he doesn't see in us.

Gee. I wonder what that might be.

Hey!

-Take that back. -Why should I?

You question my vision? Well, I question your taste.

I'd like to speak with Sol. Where is he?

Podiatrist.

Mr. Asimov?

So sorry to interrupt.

As I mentioned earlier, I'm a writer like you.

Well, not like you. Of course.

But I think I could be.

And I would be deeply in your debt if you would deign to read my novella?

My address and phone number are there,

should you wish to discuss it after reading.

"Tears of the Anaren."

Yes.

That's right.

Carl Longbottom?

Speedy Courier delivery. Have a nice one.

Thank you.

"Dear Carl, Thank you for sharing Tears of--

Tears of the Anaren with me.

As I read it, I found myself inspired to type up a few suggestions for you.

I used red ink so they'd be easy to find.

Feel free to use or ignore them as you wish.

After all, it's your book, exclamation point.

Yours, Isaac Asimov.

PS: I enjoyed your use of backstory."

Yes. That's it.

-Okay. -That's you. This one's you.

-A.E. A.E.! -The hell is this?

Good, you're all here.

I know. I am late, I am drunk, both inexcusable.

But I have seen something.

It's so simple. Just a dot and a line and another dot.

-That's it. That's all. -Carl.

For now.

But the inevitable march of technology will not be stemmed.

Two dots become four, become eight, become a million.

A billion.

Enough iridescent geometry to create an entire world.

No, no, no.

Worlds.

As countless as stars in the sky.

Mountains, rivers, volcanoes. Child's play.

We will give birth to creatures the likes of which have never been seen.

And with the merest of motions, we will control them.

No. We will become them.

Naturally, none of these wonders will mean anything on their own.

They will need to be infused with story.

Conflict, romance, sex, violence.

Everything that makes the great religions great.

But these stories can't simply be… this!

These paltry, linear narratives.

No!

They will have to live and breathe with the world itself.

I have imagined a new form of storytelling.

Not a line,

but a bolt of lightning,

coruscating and fractalizing into a thousand paths.

Choices upon choices.

A seamless melding of the author's will and the reader's desire.

I will create this new kind of storytelling.

I will gift it to you here.

I have seen it.

I have glimpsed through the veil of time!

What the fuck are you talking about?

-What? -I didn't understand a goddamn--

Did you understand any of that? Either of you?

Carl, your passion is admirable,

but worlds coming to life on television?

None of the good stuff is on TV. TV is…

TV is shit. It's for morons.

Thank you.

Now…

the award for best debut novel of 1973.

And the Nebula goes to C.W. Longbottom…

-Oh, my God. -…Tears of the Anaren!

Yes!

Well deserved. Thoroughly enjoyed it.

Thank you. I'm humbled. I'm humbled.

-Congratulations. -Truly.

-Maybe we'll see you next year. -It's an honor.

Great job. Loved it.

Congratulations.

Hello, Carl.

Sorry. C.W.

A.E.

It's actually just Anne now.

Carl, congratulations. I read it three times. You're an inspiration.

You're too kind.

Hardly. Can I get you another drink?

Thank you. That would be lovely.

-Bourbon, neat. -Coming up for the big winner.

You two…

Good. That's good. Happy for you.

I didn't expect to see either of you here.

Well, my first book is due to be published,

so my editor got me tickets so I could network.

Peter's still writing too.

He's not quite there yet, but…

It'll be his turn before long.

-By any chance, did you-- -I read it.

Listen, I'm sure it comes off like a poor man's Asimov,

but my idea was to get something published. Anything really.

This way I'll have more opportunities

to publish work that's a bit more me.

You see what I mean?

Obviously it worked out a bit better than I expected, but--

Carl.

Tears of the Anaren didn't read like a poor man's Asimov.

It read exactly like Asimov.

What a lovely compliment.

Thank you. So kind of you to say.

Well deserved.

-I could not put it down. -Yes. Thanks. Cheers.

Congratulations.

Chickens, chickens. Plucked from the king's own forest.

Taste of their succulent breasts.

A mere 12.99, you can dine on their fine, rotating flesh.

Chickens, chickens.

Excuse me. Are you C.W. Longbottom?

-Do I know you? -No, but I'm a huge fan of yours.

I have read every one of your books.

My name's Ian Grimm, and this is--

Hey, dickhead. Pay attention.

This is the guy?

Yep. This is the guy.

So, what--

What do you want?

Have you ever thought about writing for a video game?