My friend Nicholas Brady,
who in his own way tried to save the world,
lived in Berkeley practically his whole life.
Back around 1985, Berkeley, California seemed like an oasis
in a country that had become polarized and divided.
But Fate or God or whatever had something else
in store for my friend Nick
and as it turned out, for me, too.
Look, Nick, I appreciate your interest in the business,
but these compact discs aren't going to catch on.
Not with our customers.
Why not?
That digital sound is too perfect.
It's cold.
Metallic.
Don't underestimate the human element.
Even if CDs catch on, the records here
will be worth a fortune.
Or nothing at all.
Life's a gamble.
Be patient.
One day this will all be yours and Rachel's,
then you can do what you like.
♪ I wanna destroy you ♪
♪ A pox upon the media ♪
♪ And everything you read ♪
♪ They tell you your opinions ♪
♪ And they're very good indeed ♪
♪ I wanna destroy you ♪
♪ When I have destroyed you ♪
♪ I'll come picking at your bones ♪
♪ And you won't have a single atom ♪
♪ Left to call your own ♪
Hey.
Phil just called and he's on his way over.
Please don't tell him about last night.
Promise?
Mm.
Mwah.
Have a good day.
Bye, baby.
Sorry, I'm late.
My cat got run over by a truck yesterday.
That's the bad news.
What's the good news?
My new novel, getting published.
In hardcover this time.
Oh, wow, that's great, man.
Which one?
The one about what might have happened
if the Nazis won the war.
I have an idea you might be interested in.
Last night, I woke up and I saw me
staring down at myself.
I think Rachel saw it, too, but now she's not sure.
Oh, that's weird. Were you high?
You know I don't smoke anymore.
I think it was a future me.
Could something like that be possible, time travel?
It seemed like I was there to help me or warn me or something.
Hmm. Might be.
Did you look any older?
No, I looked exactly the same.
Maybe it was an alternate self
communicating with you from an alternate universe.
Can you use the idea?
Nope, too ordinary.
Too ordinary, huh? Well, that's--that's me.
Cheer up.
You're still having a better day than my cat.
And so, while the membership lists were destroyed
prior to the collapse of the Soviet Union,
the code name of this organization
has been given to us by our new Russian allies.
That name is Aramchek,
an agency of treason and subversion.
Aramchek. Remember that name.
This secret organization refuses to acknowledge
that democracy and free enterprise have triumphed.
Instead, they would turn back the clock,
lead America into a dark, shadowy future
of a godless dictatorship.
In the near future, I intend to report to you,
the American people,
the progress of our war
on this cadre of evildoers.
In the meantime, good night,
and may God bless the United States of America.
The President's address this evening
contained a real bombshell, didn't it, Hugh?
And I wouldn't be surprised
if this new crisis didn't have some bearing
on President Fremont's decision whether or not
to seek an unprecedented fifth term in office--
15 years in the office.
You'd think that would be enough for anyone.
Not Fremont.
Only way you get him out of the Oval Office is in a casket.
The record store clerk in Berkeley
will have many troubles.
When he moves to Los Angeles, he will find
what he's been searching for his entire life.
I've had the strangest feeling the last couple of days.
It's like I've been asleep my whole life
waiting for something to happen.
We gotta get out of Berkeley.
And how do you plan on that?
I'm thinking of applying for a new job.
I've already started talking to some of the record company reps
down in LA.
Maybe they're just ordinary dreams.
Night after night?
The images always appears between 3:00 and 4:00
in the morning?
I think I'm being programmed in my sleep.
Just because I write science-fiction, doesn't mean
I believe in any of that stuff.
I don't even think flying saucers are real.
I think a higher intelligence has seen my needs
and is directing me towards something important,
some extraordinary goal.
So, a powerful entity guiding you,
helping you get your shit together?
Sounds good, what do you think it is?
Don't laugh, but I got a name for it.
I call it VALIS.
- VALIS? - It's an acronym
for Vast Active Living Intelligent System,
because that's exactly what it is and how I think of it.
Does this VALIS provide you with any clues
as to your amazing destiny?
I don't have any choice other than to believe it.
I already got a job offer.
Progressive Records is the first company I applied to.
That's got to mean something.
Just one problem. What's that?
I hate Los Angeles.
Just for argument's sake,
let's just say it's something evil
like the voices that told Mark Chapman
to shoot Mick Jagger.
VALIS has a destiny for me in LA.
What am I supposed to say to that?
This is real. This is happening to me.
Maybe it's a precognition.
Knowing what you're going to do before you do it.
I wrote a story about that, remember?
"The World Jones Made"?
Vaguely.
How'd that turn out?
Not so good.
Instead of being this wonderful talent,
being able to see a year into the future
locked Jones into a closed loop.
He lost free choice.
What do you mean?
Well, since everything was predetermined,
he was forced to act out his own future.
You foresee yourself moving to LA.
So now you're moving.
You still don't understand.
VALIS knows about you.
I was instructed to tell you what's happening.
You're putting me on.
It's crazy, Nick.
We're leaving Berkeley because some imaginary voice
tells you to uproot our lives?
It's not a practical way to make a life-changing decision.
What's better:
Columbus listening to the imaginary voices in his head
that said "keep sailing"
or the real voices
that said it was all hopeless and doomed?
Aren't results what matter?
See you guys after lunch.
Hey, Phil!
I was starting to think you were gonna miss our last day!
What, are you kidding? Not a chance.
I even brought refreshments.
Hi.
So.
None for me thanks.
That's the first drink I've ever seen you refuse.
Did VALIS tell you to go on the wagon?
As a matter of fact, yes.
Oh, come on, baby, lighten up.
You know, I've been trying to get him to cut back
on alcohol for years. His wife, he ignores,
but one little word from the Big Mind in the sky...
All right, okay, enough.
When? When?
To friendship.
To Los Angeles.
To destiny.
Destiny.
Oh, God, excuse me.
Could he get any weirder?
How are you supposed to relate to a friend
whose life is directed from beyond the stars?
I mean, what kind of attitude am I supposed to take to that?
Imagine being his wife.
It's taken over your lives, hasn't it?
And the strange part is,
VALIS is doing a better job than we ever did.
I've never seen Nick so...
Motivated.
It's like he's an entirely different person.
Yeah.
I've been thinking about leaving him.
Wow.
What did you decide?
Well, the decision has been made for me.
I saw a gynecologist last week.
I'm pregnant.
That's wonderful.
I haven't even told Nick.
Okay.
I'm scared about everything.
Tell me it's all going to be okay?
Of course.
Of course it's gonna be okay.
Though the Cold War may be over,
as you know, the secret organization Aramchek
is still committed to undermining
our democratic institutions.
Accordingly, I have instructed our Attorney General
to prepare the appropriate legislation
to amend those First Amendment rights
that have been so long abused by our country's foes
and their unwitting allies among the media elite.
No one regrets these measures more than your President.
And so, following the instructions of VALIS,
my friends Nick and Rachel moved down to LA.
I thought of them often, but it was more than a year
before I took the eight-hour bus ride down from Berkeley.
Excuse me, sir.
Can I give you the good news?
Jesus Christ.
I never thought I'd see the day.
An old socialist like you driving around in a Beemer.
You look great.
Yeah?
LA seems to agree with you.
Still doing your art?
No, not so much.
I've been really busy, with the baby and all.
How's Nick?
Oh, he's--he's great.
He loves it here, too.
You know, he wanted to pick you up himself,
but he's in the studio with one of his new groups.
What about VALIS?
Phil, look, do me a favor.
Don't bring up that stuff.
Wow.
A far cry from the record store, huh?
♪
Hey, Phil.
Glad you could make it. Get in here.
Hey.
Mwah!
I want you to stick around and check these guys out.
I'm gonna get a producer credit on this album,
maybe a senior vice-presidency
if market research is right about these guys.
You believing it?
Believe what?
All this, my act.
What are you talking about?
So you bought it, too.
That's good. That means I must be doing something right.
Check it out. This is an image
that I've been shown over and over and over again.
What the-- What the hell?
Was that lightning?
- Hey. - Nick?
Hey.
You okay?
I don't know why we had to rush over here.
Ezra's just fine.
No, he's not, I told you.
He has a birth defect.
- Good morning. - Hey, Doctor,
thank you for coming.
He's got an inguinal strangulated hernia
on the left side.
It's already descended
into the scrotal sac.
I'm, uh, used to parents
imagining dreadful diseases in the middle of the night,
but rarely with such specificity.
I just saw Ezra last week, but...
It's okay, it's all right, it's okay...
Wait a second.
Page Dr. Andrews, tell him to come right in,
it's an emergency.
It's exactly what you thought.
Is he going to be all right?
Yeah, he'll be fine.
It's a minor problem to correct,
but it's potentially very dangerous.
We caught it just in time.
Hey.
How is he?
Ezra's going to be fine.
What's going on?
How did you know that? Was it VALIS?
Let's get Ezra and Rachel home first,
then I'll fill you in on everything.
I'm always amazed at how much difference
the desert air makes.
A lot cleaner than LA, isn't it?
No spies, no police informers.
Out here, the wind blows in from the east and the north.
For some reason, the signal's much stronger.
I think VALIS is located in our upper atmosphere.
How is that even possible?
How could any kind of living creature
exist up there, survive?
No, see, it's not--
It's not a he or a she or even an it.
It's a composite entity.
It's as if various beings had come together
and formed a single body and group mind.
How do you know all this?
I've had dream after dream after dream
from their point of view.
From way up, looking down.
To them the Earth is just...
this horrible, stagnant pond
and humans just swim around in the muck trying to survive.
I think they're anxious to help us.
That doesn't make sense to me.
Highly evolved creatures living in the sky
taking an active interest in human welfare?
Why would they?
I think they feel sorry for us.
Try to imagine it.
Advanced beings living alongside humans
throughout history,
watching our wars, our famines,
observing our unbelievable cruelty,
our unbelievable stupidity.
Wait a second, hold on.
I'm getting new instructions.
You're not going to believe where they want me to go.
So, this modest bungalow
is the house where the president actually grew up
in his formative years,
the dwelling where our beloved president
first did homework, first played basketball,
first read inspiring biographies of history's greatest men.
Don't worry, there's no guards.
I guess they figure no one would dare trespass
on the holiest of holies.
Maybe they have a point.
There it is.
What's the big deal?
It's just a signature in the cement.
Probably the name of the contractor.
Baby, look at it, look at the name.
It's a little faded and hard to see,
but you see it, right, Phil?
I'm seeing it, but I can't believe it.
"Aramchek."
I get this urge to go to the Fremont Museum.
I wander away from the group, and I see it.
Then I realize, I was meant to see it.
Please don't tell me you're starting up
with the whole VALIS thing.
Little Richard Fremont played in that backyard
and he sees that name
written in the cement, Aramchek,
and for whatever reason, it sticks in his little brain
as something sinister.
Once the boy grows up, he projects his paranoia
on the whole world.
Aramchek, the super-secret cabal of evil revolutionaries.
It's a figment of his imagination,
a childhood memory.
It's genius.
The government declares war on a terrorist organization
that doesn't even exist.
No one can destroy it.
No one's safe from it.
No one knows when it'll turn up again.
What do you think happened to Mr. Aramchek,
whoever he actually was?
He's dead.
Or stuck away in some rehabilitation camp.
What else do you expect from Richard Fremont?
Do you really have to go back to Berkeley?
Yeah. I gotta finish my book.
Besides, I can't be your house guest forever, you know?
It's gotten so... weird all of a sudden.
No, man, you--you just...
You do what you need to do. We'll be fine.
We have VALIS to protect us.
Back in Berkeley, my life returned to normal,
which for me was mostly work,
staying up all night with the help of amphetamines.
While I was in LA, Nick and I had spent
hour after hour talking about VALIS,
different theories about how it operated, what it wanted,
why it had come now.
I had material for a dozen stories
just based on all the premises we spun out,
but none that I could write about
without betraying my friend's confidence.
Gentlemen.
What can I do for you?
Are we putting out too many protest songs?
No, on the contrary, Mr. Brady.
May I call you Nick? Sure.
Progressive has a very positive rating
with the Bureau, Nick.
One of the best in the whole recording industry.
Just a precaution.
You'd be surprised how many otherwise decent,
law-abiding Americans think it's necessary to tape
informal interrogations like this one.
How can I help you?
Actually, we're here to help you, Nick.
We happen to know you're currently under a great deal
of financial pressure.
Your wife wants your son to go to an exclusive nursery school.
She also expects you to put a large down payment
on a much larger house.
We're prepared to offer you a simple, patriotic way
to enhance your salary by up to $2,000 a month.
How does that sound, Nick?
Tax free.
Not even reportable.
I'm flattered you thought of me,
but honestly, I have a--
You're turning your country down
before you even know what we're asking?
Maybe your loyalty evaluation needs to be updated.
Wouldn't take any extra work at all.
It's a function of the work you're already doing.
All right, I'll listen.
It's very simple, really.
See, despite the generally cooperative attitude
of radio stations and music executives like yourself,
a number of antisocial protest songs
are still getting airplay.
Subject Nicholas Brady refused to cooperate
with the current investigation.
The following is a transcript of the conversation
taped with the subject.
Recommendation is for this file to be sent to Washington
for inclusion in Project Coliseum.
What can I do for you?
Are we putting out too many protest songs?
No, on the contrary, Mr. Brady.
So you're certain nothing of actual monetary value was taken?
Yeah, just some papers.
Notes for my new novel.
Fortunately, I've got a copy that I keep with a friend.
Well, that seems like a strange practice.
It's almost as if you were anticipating
some kind of problem like this.
Not really. It's just, uh...
I've been told you write some very far-out science fiction.
Are you willing to testify under oath
that this isn't some kind of crazy publicity stunt?
- Are you suggesting-- - I'm not suggesting anything,
but we're inclined to believe
that you staged this break-in yourself.
Yeah? Why would I trash my own house
and ransack my own files?
What better way to throw suspicion off yourself?
Suspicion? Suspicion of what?
That's what we're gonna need to investigate further.
I hope you'll make yourself available
for further questioning, if necessary.
No, I'm going home.
Forget about the burglary, forget about the police report.
A little late for that, sir.
You almost can't blame the government
for being curious.
Half your stories read like they were written on acid.
Your entire readership consists of freaks and misfits.
Okay, so they're curious.
Doesn't give them the right to break into my house.
They probably just want to know about your next novel.
I'd like to know, too.
It's called "Flow My Tears, the Policeman Said."
- Sounds political. - No.
Well, sort of, it's like all my stuff.
Well, did they get the manuscript?
No, I sent it to my lawyer. It's in his safe.
I sent it over as soon as I was finished.
It's time for you move down here.
We should wait to talk till I get to LA.
With any luck, this thing will just blow over.
Not likely.
Once the authorities open up a file on someone,
they never close it.
I'll talk to you soon.
My books were finally finding an audience.
I was getting solid critical reviews too,
especially on my really insane novel,
"The Three Stigmata of Palmer Eldritch."
The rumor got started that I'd written it
under the influence of LSD.
The notoriety had undoubtedly brought me to the attention
of the authorities,
but it had also paid off in sales.
I was able to make a down payment on a small bungalow
in the grungy Echo Park area of LA.
When I wasn't working,
I went back as usual
to hanging out with Nick and Rachel.
My fellow Americans,
this evening's report will deal with
the remarkable progress we've made this quarter
with our domestic export,
despite a temporary setback in the agricultural sector.
The unforeseeable effects of terrorism and subversion
remain the only open question mark
for our country's continued economic health.
You know, at first I thought these test questions were easy,
just to see if we're paying attention,
but once you actually start thinking about them,
they're kind of tricky.
Listen to this one:
"If American citizens must give up certain liberties
in the fight for freedom, does it mean the country is,
gaining ground,
losing ground
in the war against subversion.
Well, you can argue it both ways.
By giving up liberties, maybe they want us to say
that we can gain ground by fighting with our gloves off.
If we weren't losing ground,
we wouldn't have to give up our liberties.
- It's a mindfuck. - Yeah.
If that's the kind of crap they're teaching kids nowadays,
no wonder SAT scores are going down.
Make sure you mail in our tests results tomorrow.
We can't afford another late mark next quarter.
♪ Infatuation court well-met ♪
♪ 'Cause I'm the easiest to sway ♪
♪ Catch my fancy and calm it not ♪
♪ Riding fresh chemistry ♪
♪ One by one, conditions change ♪
♪ Slippery slope yields shekel phase ♪
♪ And gone are the days of snare and tell ♪
♪ An admission to sexy hell ♪
♪ I don my crown and moniker claim ♪
♪ As Professional Torturer ♪
♪ As mea culpa renounce my name ♪
♪ Professional ♪ What an amazing voice.
- ♪Torturer ♪ - Who is she?
Are you kidding?
It's Sylvia. She's on your label.
You signed her.
What's wrong with you, honey?
How could you have forgotten that?
I must be really tired.
I can't put my finger on it,
but there's something subversive in her music.
♪
7:00 in the fucking morning.
Just a minute.
Hi. Sorry to bother you so early.
I'm Vivian Kaplan and this is my partner, Ted Pollett.
We're volunteer workers with Friends of the American People.
- FAP? - Please, sir,
we prefer you use our organization's full name,
Friends of the American People.
It gives off a better vibe.
What can I do for you?
We'll explain inside.
Make yourselves comfortable, I'll get some coffee.
Decaf if you've got it, please.
Me, too. Caffeine is a drug, you know.
Same carbon ring structure as cocaine.
We learned that in my political biochem course.
We'd like to start with a few routine questions.
Okay, I guess.
Do you regularly use any illegal
or controlled substances?
Are you the father of any children out of wedlock,
particularly of a racial group other than Caucasian?
And lastly, do you believe in God?
No, no, and I'm not sure.
Is that it?
That's just for our database.
What we really need is a statement
regarding someone you know.
A statement?
Actually, a kind of summary of his political beliefs.
I don't know what friend you're talking about.
All my friends live in Berkeley.
The one who moved to Los Angeles,
Nicholas Brady.
You'll find all the instructions and forms
in this kit.
And, needless to say, it's absolutely inappropriate
to share any of this with Mr. Brady.
Through various signs and clues,
Nick came to believe that on some level
he might actually still be living in ancient Rome,
an early Christian in the time of martyrdom,
that the true year was around 70 A.D.,
that the Roman empire had never ended.
Here was Nick's strangest vision yet.
He was locked up in a cage, but it wasn't him, exactly.
He was some kind of small mammal
and Richard F. Fremont was our Nero.
A bloodthirsty dragon took off
and began to descend towards him.
I didn't need to see a weird reptile rip my friend apart
to know that he was in danger.
I would try to make friends with the enemy
and disarm them with the truth.
I've been working late.
You want to join me in a glass of wine?
It's Alexander Valley Vineyards.
It's new, but it's really good.
Maybe just a taste.
Do you usually work by candlelight?
Do you usually dress like that?
You know I was wondering why you invited me over here.
Friends of the American People doesn't encourage its cadres
to socialize with their clients.
You know, I need help with the statement.
I'm not sure what to put down, what to leave out.
Don't leave anything out.
I think it's because I know so much about Nick
that I'm having trouble.
You can do it.
You're a professional writer.
Yeah, but I write science fiction.
I'm used to making stuff up.
Well, you can't make up anything on these reports, Phil.
They're sworn statements.
- Nick talks to God. - What?
Or God talks to Nick, depending on how
you want to look at it.
You're sure he's not just crazy?
You should be writing this down.
I'm going to reveal some of the things God told him.
Who cares?
I can't report stuff like that.
Some of it might be useful to the government.
You got me over here for this?
There's nothing we could do about a religious thing.
Maybe it's not the only reason I invited you over.
There must be something else about Brady
that could offset all this weird stuff about God.
How can you offset God?
He's all-knowing and all-powerful.
I mean in terms of political views.
Want more wine?
I'd rather smoke grass.
Sorry, I don't have any.
I do. It's really killer stuff.
I don't want drugs in my house.
Grass doesn't count.
Really?
You afraid I'm setting you up?
It's much more dangerous for me than you.
FAPers are the straightest kids on the planet.
That's why I was glad you called.
I knew you'd be cool to smoke with.
Oh, yeah, why's that?
Everyone knows you're a big pothead.
It's in the files.
Now...
are we gonna have sex or what?
Grass makes me super horny.
♪
What do you do when you're not working for FAP?
You can't do that kinda work full-time, can you?
I'm in school.
Where at? UCLA? Cal State?
Fairfax.
Fairfax? As in Fairfax High?
Yeah, I'm a senior.
How old are you?
17.
Jesus Christ!
Don't be such a worrywart.
Get your stuff, you gotta get out of here.
No one even knows I'm here.
Except for Ted, of course.
Who the hell is Ted?
The boy I came here with this morning.
He's my partner. We're sort of engaged.
I told him I'd call him when I got home
so he'd know I'm all right.
You're not going tell him we had sex, are you?
Look, just file your statement on time.
That's all he cares about.
He's the most gung-ho FAPer in the district.
I just enjoy meeting people we're assigned to cover.
So that's how FAP does it.
Compromise someone with an underage girl
who doesn't look it,
and then turn them into a snitch.
We just want you to keep an eye on Brady.
I won't do it.
We have a lot of information
on you, too, Phil.
I want to see your license.
Wait a minute, wait a minute, wait a minute.
You're not 17, you're 23.
I'll be seeing you soon, Phil.
Not if I can help it.
Oh, by the way,
I hid a small stash of coke.
You'll never find it.
Not even if you tear the whole place apart.
Have fun!
Ow!
I made an appointment with the dentist for you.
God, I can't believe you still have your wisdom teeth.
I can't believe how much they hurt.
Well, he phoned in a prescription for a pain killer.
The drugstore's delivering it in about an hour or so.
See ya. Bye.
Mr. Brady?
- Hey. - Hi.
What do I owe you?
Uh, 10.42, please.
- 15. - Thank you.
- What's that? - What's what?
Your, uh... necklace.
Oh, the fish sign.
It's a symbol used by the early Christians.
The Greek word for fish is ichthys.
In Greek, the letters are an acronym
for "Jesus Christ God's Son Savior."
In the time of the Roman empire,
a time of persecution,
they needed some way to safely identify each other
and their meeting places.
For many years
we have watched them.
Their terrible deeds are known to us.
Soon they shall be judged,
and you will be an instrument of that justice.
Have no fear, Nicholas Brady.
You are a child of the starry heavens.
Well, you're going to be just fine, Mr. Brady.
We have you on a strong antibiotic drip.
And you'll be able to get out of here in a couple of hours.
I saw great, fiery pinwheels.
I felt like I was going crazy.
I'm not surprised.
You've had a build-up of toxins
due to that infected wisdom tooth of yours.
But don't worry, you're going to be just fine now.
What a relief.
All those ridiculous religious ideas and visions.
Imagine!
It was all just an impacted wisdom tooth.
Honey, I don't want to argue.
Maybe I do have an infected tooth...
Maybe? The doctor said that was the reason why--
All right. Yes, I have an infected tooth.
And maybe I have toxins in my bloodstream,
and maybe they caused the blackouts
and the hallucinations,
but that doesn't explain
the hallucinations themselves, does it?
Hallucinations don't need an explanation.
They're not supposed to make any sense.
But mine do.
Mysteries have been revealed to me.
Like the Kennedy assassination.
And I suppose VALIS told you who was behind the conspiracy.
The message could have come from a parallel world
where Portugal rather than England colonized America.
It sounds to me like whoever was delivering the information
must be pretty low-level.
He might have been in a trance state.
That would explain why they didn't know their own name.
But why transmit from a parallel world?
Maybe it's too dangerous to contact you directly.
So... they transmit from an alternate reality
where President Fremont hasn't even been elected?
Sounds to me like a world where he was never born.
I mean, think about it.
If there had never been a Protestant Reformation,
the world might have been divided
between Portugal and Spain, the major Catholic powers.
It's odd thinking that science in a more religious world
would be further advanced.
But it makes sense.
They never fought those terrible sectarian wars
that set civilization back five hundred years.
Actually, a pretty interesting premise for a novel.
Oh, hey, look, no. You gotta promise me
you're not gonna write about any of this, man.
Not even fictionalized.
Now, don't be paranoid.
I've already told FAP you talk to God.
They couldn't care less.
God's not on their list of subversives.
Not yet.
I'm sure they're looking into Him.
There's a woman here to see you.
She doesn't have an appointment
and she won't say what she wants.
Should I say that you're unavailable?
Um, no, it's fine. Send her in.
Hi, I am sorry to barge in on you.
My name is Sylvia Sadassa.
- Hi. - Hi.
You're a singer-songwriter, aren't you?
What gave you that idea? No.
Um, I'm here to apply for a job.
Sorry, I-- I don't do the hiring.
Do you mind if I sit down for a second?
I'm just, uh. Just getting over an illness.
- Are you okay? - Oh, yeah.
I'm sorry, yeah, no, I'm fine, thank you.
Sorry.
What kind of guitar do you have?
A Gibson.
But I don't play professionally, though.
Why do you ask?
I just assumed that anyone that has a passion
for the music business must be somewhat musical.
Do you write songs?
Just poetry.
But I do great secretarial work.
I take shorthand and I type 70 words per minute.
I'll make sure Personnel sees you.
But we get hundreds of applications every month.
If you get any kind of job here, it'll be a miracle.
I guess this proves VALIS isn't infallible, huh?
You can't give a recording contract to a secretary,
can you?
It's amazing how much of the dream was true.
Maybe she just needs a little encouragement.
Don't we all?
Here's the weirdest part.
I looked at her résumé.
She's divorced, but she still uses her ex-husband's name.
But you'll never guess her maiden name is.
What's that?
Aramchek.
Sylvia Aramchek.
Could be a coincidence.
She even grew up in Placentia.
It's the same town as the president.
It's just a funny coincidence.
I used to get asked about my name all the time.
Actually, I have a small confession that I want to make.
What's that?
Sadassa is not my real name,
I've never been married.
But President Fremont made it impossible
for me to live with a name like Aramchek.
You can understand that, right?
A friend of mine and I, one night,
found the name "Aramchek" written in the cement
just behind the house where Fremont was born.
Yeah, I know. Grandfather did that
when he was a teenager.
So why Progressive Records? Why'd you come to us?
Well, you have good artists.
It just seemed more exciting than working for a lawyer
or an oil company.
I want to sign you to a recording contract.
You've gotta be kidding me. Doing what?
Singing.
You have a gorgeous soprano voice.
I've heard it.
You have? Where?
Something to drink?
Glass of wine?
Uh, I wish I could. Just a lemonade, thanks.
Club soda, please, thanks.
You don't drink?
Uh, not anymore, no. It affects my eyesight.
When I was sick I would sometimes go totally blind,
so I'd be bumping into walls.
If you don't mind my asking, what was wrong with you?
Cancer. Lymphoma.
The doctor said it's unknown for anyone
to have it enter their brain to survive.
He says if I live another year, he'll have me written up.
Do the doctors know why it went into remission?
Well, they never know.
But I think it was prayer.
Because when I was going blind and I couldn't hear,
I was having seizures from the medication.
I used to tell people it was God healing me.
You're an extraordinary person.
Medically, maybe.
Otherwise all I can do is type and take dictation.
In Nick's vision that night,
he was shown row after row of fish tanks.
He was viewing all of this from the vantage point
of a superior life form,
perhaps from the viewpoint of VALIS itself.
Each of the fish tanks was an alternate Earth
in an alternate universe, swarming with life.
Here was a good universe, he realized,
filled with happy creatures living in harmony and beauty.
But there were also other kinds of worlds...
murky and frightening.
He suddenly realized that he was now looking at how VALIS
saw our own reality.
One of the worst.
He was a small crab living at the bottom,
slyly concealed behind a boulder,
alone and frightened,
afraid to venture forth, until he saw its glow.
Daddy.
- What's up, buddy? - I'm thirsty, Daddy.
Here you go.
I'm not hungry.
It's a game, just try a little bite.
You know, your secret name is Paul.
Can you remember that name? Paul.
Such a good boy.
To them, Earth is like an unlit button
on the intergalactic switchboard.
It's out of contact. It's lost in the dark.
And now it's like an emergency 911 call
has finally gotten through.
But gotten through to who?
Aliens or God?
That's a tough question.
Maybe the answer is both.
Maybe he's the God of the Old Testament,
the God who spoke to Abraham and Moses.
Maybe he was an alien.
You're kidding around, but an advanced life form
would seem like God to an ancient tribe of nomads.
Nomads wandering in the desert,
because the transmission's clearer.
I think VALIS has always been there,
ready to help mankind,
inspiring all the great prophets--
Moses, Confucius, Buddha, Jesus.
Maybe even some of the poets like William Blake.
And now you.
The next avatar? The second coming?
Behold the mother of Sylvia Sadassa.
Her mother's name is Aramchek.
Whose mother?
Sylvia Sadassa.
A woman we just hired at work.
In my vision...
she was signing up young Richard Fremont for something,
but signing him up for what?
She used a red fountain pen.
Red.
Subversives.
Signed up.
Okay, okay, I get it.
It's clear, economical, direct.
It's like a political cartoon. What is?
The scene I witnessed.
It symbolizes something that happened
to Richard Fremont in his late teens.
The Fremonts and the Aramcheks,
they lived on the same block, right?
Mrs. Aramchek was an organizer for the Communist Party.
She must have recruited him back then.
But Fremont's not a communist.
He's a fascist.
We get hung up on names and labels.
They don't mean anything.
Communists are really all fascists,
and Fremont the fascist is the first
communist president of the United States.
It makes perfect sense to me. This is too farfetched.
Richard Fremont, America's most famous red-baiter,
a secret communist? Yes!
I'm sure he started out as youthful idealist.
But Dickie turned out to be
exactly what Mrs. Aramchek was looking for,
a sleeper agent that could rise to high political office.
Why would the Soviets and America's right wing
both back the same man? It doesn't make sense.
And by the way, we won the Cold War, didn't we?
Yeah, that's what Fremont and the Russian puppet regime
want us to think.
But what's the difference between the right-wing cops
in the States,
and left-wing cops in Russia?
The KGB, the CIA, FAP--
They're all different aspects
of the same security state apparatus.
Why would they reveal this kind
of top-secret information to you?
Somehow I must be in the right position
to do something with the information.
I gotta admit...
it'd be pretty fuckin' fascinating if it's true.
The assassination of JFK and both his brothers,
by supposedly disaffected loners--
It was to get Fremont elected. It was the only way.
And then to keep him in power,
his rich cronies just went around and bought
all the largest voting machine manufacturers.
No wonder a guy almost no one likes
continues to win the presidency
by the largest margins in history.
How's it going?
Great.
Thank you again for getting me this job.
I had a feeling you belonged here.
It's funny you should say that.
I had a dream about this record company last night.
I was at a recording session
and I remember thinking how wonderful the singer was.
And when I picked up the album cover, it was me.
I'm interested in dreams.
Have you had any other strange ones lately?
The truth is I came here because of a dream.
I was in this beautiful green valley
and I was walking toward this mountain...
and it turns into a building.
It had a plaque on the entrance way
and it just said PROGRESSIVE on it.
And I could hear this incredibly sweet music coming from inside.
I was worried that you wouldn't show up.
Mr. Brady, your wife just phoned.
She says its urgent you get a copy of the Times
and look at page three.
According to the official Russian news agency,
a respected Moscow astrophysicist has reported
the discovery of unexplained radio signals
from what he believes may be an extraterrestrial source.
Professor Georgi Moyashki
has detected short, information-rich signals
as the source passes over Earth's night side.
The U.S. Space Agency has already gone on record
stating that the signals most likely originate
from an abandoned and forgotten Earth satellite.
Russian authorities have announced plans to deploy
a space probe to photograph the mysterious transmitter.
Meanwhile, earlier today on I-5--
Intense high-frequency bursts; always at night.
Don't you receive your images, your voices, at 3 A.M.?
It fits!
You're not crazy.
I never thought I was.
You and Phil were talking. Like,
a satellite orbiting the Earth. Right?
I remember you saying that.
But that was months ago.
You know how I am about theories:
Like planes landing at LAX, a new one every few minutes.
Our latest theory is that the messages
come from a parallel universe.
Who cares about your theories? This is real.
♪ ♪
♪ Every day the satellite ♪
♪ Seems to be the door at someone's reach... ♪
For years, Nick had placed his faith
in the instructions of VALIS:
moving to LA, going to work for Progressive Records.
He thought of VALIS as all-knowing,
a manifestation of God's will.
If VALIS was just a satellite,
it reduced something limitless to a finite reality,
a mere machine.
♪ Every day the satellite... ♪
Breathe deeply.
Did you think we would forsake you?
Is your belief so weak?
Where am I?
A place above the stars.
This is the place where you were truly born.
I come from above the stars?
Many times.
Only now are you remembering who you really are.
Who am I?
Everyone.
And all things.
You asked to be broken down and healed.
This is that breaking down and healing.
Soon you shall be with us for all time.
I'm not going to die? I won't cease to exist?
No one truly dies and nothing is ever lost.
There is nowhere for anything to go.
There is only here and now, for all time.
Now that you have remembered, there can be no forgetting.
Nick.
You are a lucky man.
I don't feel so lucky.
I've got the world's worst headache.
I'm not surprised.
You've been through a lot.
Let's take a look.
The steering wheel did most of the damage.
I'm afraid you're going to be with us for a while.
This kind of trauma--
What the...?
Is something wrong?
Just a minute.
Wow, your skin's hot.
Is this tender?
No.
Look, I'm glad you're all right,
but how is it possible?
The satellite healed me.
There's something else I've got to tell you.
The new secretary at work, Sylvia.
She's part of all this, too.
Are you sure you can trust her?
I don't know, I think so.
I'm still just finding my way here.
Look, there's no real chance
of overthrowing Fremont, is there?
Probably not.
But it's still worth trying.
Yeah? And what if it ruins our lives?
And our son's life?
My friendship with Phil,
writer of pulp science fiction stories
is a false lead.
The authorities are looking for something subversive
to show up in his books.
But the fact is we have a better chance
to get a message out in a song.
If we're caught,
they'll put us in prison or kill us,
so I'm making this videotape for you, Ezra,
so that one day, you'll know the truth.
Mr. Brady.
Is something wrong?
I know about your mother.
What do you mean? What are you doing here so late?
I know she was a recruiter for the Communist Party
and I know she signed up Richard Fremont.
I heard about your car crash. Are you all right?
You're talking crazy right now.
Fremont and the Party think their secret is safe.
But as a little girl, you must have overheard conversations.
You're the only person outside of the highest ranks
of the Party who knows.
That's why they tried to kill you with cancer, isn't it?
Why would the government want to harm me? I'm nobody.
We're supposed to work together.
Fremont's secret will go out as a song
in the form of a subliminal message.
I'll make sure that it saturates the airwaves
before the authorities get wise--
Listen to me. My mother's been a down-to-earth Republican
her whole life.
She's just an ordinary woman
saddled with the name Aramchek.
The police have investigated her over and over because of it,
and it's lunatic stuff like this
that gets innocent people into trouble.
Your friend Sylvia called.
What did she say?
She's at the La Paz Bar.
She wants you to meet her there.
- Hey. - Hi.
I'm sorry if what I said before offended you,
I didn't-- No, it's okay.
I had now idea how I was supposed to react.
I think I'm being watched.
I've, uh, received a new transmission
since I last saw you,
and I'm to initiate you further into the organization by--
Org--Organization?
Aramchek.
Aramchek really exists?
Sure.
Why would Fremont waste his time
trying to stamp out an imaginary group?
So what I said about your mother is true?
Basically, yeah.
What is Aramchek?
It's the people contacted by the satellite,
which in turn receives instructions
from a star system called Albemuth.
Life on this planet came from there originally.
So whenever we fall into overwhelming difficulties,
the satellite serves as our link back to Albemuth.
I think I intuited most of this already.
Yeah, Aramchek includes hundreds,
maybe thousands of people,
mostly here and in the former Soviet Union.
We're each contacted individually,
so only the satellite knows who, and how many, where,
and exactly what we're supposed to do.
Last call. What would you like?
Something strong.
But, um, I guess I'll settle for club soda.
Make that two. Thanks.
VALIS has done it before,
during the time of Jesus and the early Christians.
It didn't quite work out then.
I always thought I made up that word, VALIS.
That word was put in your mind.
VALIS is how we all refer to it
while we assimilate the shock. The shock?
Yeah, the shock of discovering
your mind is being invaded by an alien life form.
It conjures up horrible images of Martian insects
knocking over the Golden Gate Bridge.
But this invasion is for our benefit, Nick.
You and I and the others were chosen by VALIS.
Will they leave once Fremont is destroyed?
If we manage to destroy him.
They're our protectors, Nick.
They only come when we need them.
I had to see her for myself.
Has he shown you pictures of our son?
I am so sorry about this, Mrs. Brady.
You're going home.
Come on.
I need you to go home.
I'll explain everything to you later,
but you have to trust me.
What are you doing to us?
I thought we were happy.
It's not what you think.
I don't know, maybe it's worse. Are you in love with her?
Rachel, you are the only woman I've ever loved.
The only woman I'm ever going to love.
Then what are you doing?
You have to trust me.
She doesn't understand.
Did you really expect her to?
Do you expect anybody to understand this?
Well, I hoped she would.
My crazy friend Phil understands, sort of.
Maybe you should go home.
No, this is more important.
Are you sure?
No, I'm not sure. I...
But I can't let my kid grow up a world like this
if I can do something about it.
Come here.
The satellite's been up there for thousands of years.
What the ancient Hebrews were to Egypt
and the early Christians were to Rome,
we are now to this corrupt new American empire.
It's an ancient fight, Nick.
The values of the individual
against the supremacy of the state.
That's why the confession kits.
That's why the growing police supervision.
Over half the organization's been discovered and eliminated.
Aren't you afraid?
I would be
if it weren't for Fire Bright.
That's how I refer to the plasmatic entity within me.
It's like a little egg of silver, cold, pale fire,
glowing with life just right up here.
It's strange to have him inside us,
just... alive, but unnoticed.
When we're killed, does he die, too?
When the body is destroyed, he leaves.
But they won't desert us.
So just as you and I have housed and sheltered them,
they'll take us along with them into eternity.
As a reward for succeeding?
No, what they value is the attempt,
not the achievement or the ultimate result.
They judge us by our intention, by our hearts.
This just in from Moscow.
Russian authorities report that an accidental explosion
aboard the intercept missile launched to photograph
an allegedly extra-terrestrial satellite
has destroyed both the satellite and the missile.
The cause of the blast is unknown.
And now, turning to--
Must be a lot of partying tonight
at the Kremlin and the White House.
Well, I'm glad.
At least it's over and done with.
It's not over.
And it's not done with.
With great pleasure
I now authorize Project Coliseum.
Our toughest laws yet in the fight against terror
and subversion.
Did you see the news last night?
Yeah, well, when you attack a tyranny,
you've gotta expect that they're going to fight back.
We knew once they pinpointed the location
that they would destroy it.
Can another satellite be sent?
There's one already on the way from Albemuth.
But even traveling at the speed of light,
it won't arrive for hundreds of years.
Well, that's not going to do us any good.
It's hopeless.
It's not. I've written down the material.
- What material? - The lyrics.
Use it on an album you expect to sell really well.
What's the message supposed to be?
Take a look. It reads like nothing at all.
It's completely innocuous.
Do you know what it really means?
Well, I heard the final recorded version in a dream
and it goes something like, "Come to the party."
And it sounds like just a fun party song.
Then later the vocal line goes, "Join the party."
And the singer goes, "Everybody join the party."
And then the subtrack goes, "Is everybody at the party?
Is everybody present at the party?"
Only if you listen closely,
you can hear what they're actually singing,
which is, "Is everybody's president at the party?"
No, okay, I get it. It's like the, uh,
the Beatles, uh, "I Am the Walrus":
"Smoke dope, smoke dope, everybody smoke dope"
in the backup track. Right.
And enough repeated listenings,
and the word gets through,
the message gets through.
I mean, is that all there is to it?
Uh, "What a grand chick."
- What? - "What a grand chick."
That's part of the chorus.
Only the backup vocals change
from "What a grand chick" to "Aramchek."
Uh, the Fisher Kings are in the studio this afternoon.
They'd be perfect for it. Great.
Why don't you go on ahead?
The less we're seen together right now the better.
♪ Welcome, join the party ♪
♪ You can see that everybody's present ♪
♪ Even you could be the next contestant ♪
♪ Wait for love ♪
♪ Wait for love... ♪
I fucking hate this song.
Dude, relax,
"Let's Party" is gonna go out as a single.
If it doesn't sell, it's not gonna be on the album.
Well, it doesn't sound like any of our other material.
I know.
Your contract gives us the right to pick material.
We've never done it before.
We're probably not gonna do it again.
Let's just get this thing laid down and get outta here, okay?
It's almost midnight.
Okay.
A young lady to see you, Mr. Brady.
Um, send her in.
Hello.
I'm Vivian Kaplan from Friends of the American People.
How can I help you?
We understand that you have an employee here
by the name of Sylvia Aramchek.
As I'm sure you know, there's also
a subversive organization calling itself Aramchek.
Would you like to make a voluntary statement
concerning this coincidence?
The only thing I know about Aramchek
is that it's Sylvia Sadassa's maiden name.
How did you happen to hire Ms. Aramchek?
She came in looking for a job.
I felt sorry for her
because of her recent bout with cancer.
Hmm.
I'm sorry, I'm very busy.
Do I have to answer these questions right now?
What's this new song you're releasing by the Fisher Kings?
"Let's Party."
Everyone at Progressive is talking about it.
We think it's going to be a surefire hit.
We'd like a copy to review.
It's not even mastered yet.
A demo tape would be fine.
You could probably get a demo sooner.
It's our opinion, Mr. Brady,
that you're having a sexual affair with Ms. Aramchek.
Whether I am or not is my business.
Would you be willing to write a statement
concerning the political loyalty of Ms. Aramchek?
I'm sorry, but mutual spying by friend upon friend
is destroying the fabric of our society.
You can write that down in your little book
and put it in my file.
When can we have the demo tape?
Sometime next week.
And it will be the same as the master?
Yeah, more or less.
You know, "more or less"
really isn't good enough, Mr. Brady.
Are you going somewhere?
I'm leaving.
I want you to talk to our lawyer in the morning.
Are you asking for a divorce?
I think the house is bugged.
These are our financial papers.
I've signed over everything, the house, the bank accounts,
to you.
It's Sylvia, isn't it?
It's not Sylvia, it's what we're trying to do together.
It could be dangerous.
I don't want it to affect you and Ezra.
How could--how could anything you do not affect us?
We love you.
Remember that.
I will, too.
"Let's Party" is our hottest upcoming release,
and they know we have a lot of time and effort
invested into it.
Stands to reason that they're suspicious.
But what if it's a trap?
What if they just want us to produce this thing
as some hard evidence? If they really knew
what we were up to, they would just arrest us.
I think we need to move forward.
Even if there's no chance
of us getting away when we get caught?
This project has been building for years, Nick.
VALIS may no longer be here to protect us,
but within each of us, there's a new life that's eternal.
Well, I'll give that little FAP bitch
a copy of the demo tape for now,
and then when we press the record,
I'll make some copies
made from the master minus the subliminal material.
That way, if they break in,
whatever they get will match their tape
and then we'll start shipping the real thing.
Wish me luck.
I have an appointment with my doctor this afternoon
to see if I'm still in remission.
Let me get this straight.
A million people think they're listening
to a dumb-ass rock song,
but what they're actually hearing is,
"Fremont's a red, Fremont's a red,
better a dead Fremont than a red."
Something like that?
Basically, yes.
And when it sinks in, an outraged citizenry
marches to the White House en masse
and overthrows the government?
Is that the sequence of events?
It has to be done.
Listen to me, it's not too late for you.
Go back to Berkeley.
Put some distance between yourself and this mess.
What the hell.
If I'm going down,
I'm going down with people I love.
Press a million copies of the record.
Here's to subversion.
Here's to Aramchek.
To subversion.
You know what this probably means, right?
Yeah.
That somebody else is going to have to write
the great American science fiction novel.
♪ Want fun? ♪
♪ I know that you need some ♪
♪ You don't need a reason ♪
♪ Let down your load ♪
♪ Wasted ♪
♪ But kept in God's graces ♪
♪ You almost can taste it ♪
♪ Devour the moon ♪
♪ Everybody let's party ♪
♪ Don't you know a grand chick saved me ♪
♪ She helped me to put back together ♪
♪ My whole world ♪
♪ Welcome, join the party... ♪
You need to start getting out more.
Only if I can meet the redhead from the show "Dallas."
Well, I'm not speeding.
What do you think I did?
Shit.
- Get out of the car! - Okay, okay, okay, okay.
- Whoa, whoa, whoa. - Whoa! Easy!
- Hey, hey. - Easy.
- Ow! - Jesus Christ!
Unh!
Hey, what the fuck?
All right, all right, all right, all right!
I'll be straight with you guys.
We planted a recording device
to monitor your conversation at the club.
Orders have been given for Progressive Records
to be closed and all its assets seized.
How insane.
A subliminal message that our president
is himself a secret subversive agent?
I have nothing to say.
I want an attorney.
Take him out and shoot him.
He might be able to tell us something more.
Nothing we don't already know.
Bring him back.
I'll tell you everything he told me.
I'm sorry.
The satellite's already infected him.
But the satellite's gone now.
An egg has been laid in his head.
An alien egg.
Where are you taking me?
We always kill them before they have a chance to hatch.
This one, too?
Give me a few moments with him.
We intend to let you go on living, Phil.
We'll even publish books under your name.
I'm an American citizen!
I have rights!
In fact, they already exist.
We've been having them written for several years now.
Your style's easy to imitate.
I'd rather you just shoot me.
The novels will be published anyway.
Book by book, you'll evolve to more... conservative views.
Since you're getting older,
it won't be unexpected for you to mellow out.
Let me talk to Nick before you kill him.
Will you cooperate with the publication
of your new books? Interviews? Signings?
Sci-fi conventions?
Hold up on Brady. Take him to a cell for now.
Code Five on Brady. Was that a mistake?
No, that's okay.
Thanks, anyway.
I'm sorry, Phil.
It's too late.
It's police policy not to delay eliminating
alien-controlled subversives.
- Open the bag. - Number two.
So you can see for yourself.
Whiskey? Single malt.
I assume you stopped the song from getting out.
We shut down the record company
before they'd duped the master.
We got all the subliminal tracks, too.
"Join the Party!"
Oh, no, it's "Let's Party."
They sing "join the party" later on.
"A grand chick saved me,
put back together my whole world."
And the background is "Aramchek saves the world."
A bit unsubtle, don't you think?
It might have worked.
Oh, sure.
"Is everybody president at the party?"
We use subliminal techniques too, but not so crudely.
And for different ends.
Want to see your new book?
No, thanks.
It's called...
"The Mind-Screwers."
You should give it a try.
It's about an invasion of hideous space worms
who work their way into people's heads and rape their minds.
Real subtle.
Just came to tell you I'm sorry
you didn't get to talk to Nick Brady
before he died.
If you want, you can talk to the Aramchek woman
he was conspiring with.
Do you know her?
No, I never got to meet her.
Are you going to shoot her, too?
You're Phil.
Nick's friend, right?
The science-fiction writer.
Is he okay?
No, he isn't.
They shot him.
I see.
And you're sure that's true.
They showed me his body.
Hmm. I suppose I'm next.
No trial, no investigation.
They're really afraid of us.
That's right.
I don't think they'll kill you.
They said they want you to write crappy novels for them
full of pro-government propaganda.
The books are already written.
It'll just be my name on them.
That's good.
It means they don't trust you.
It's when they trust you that it's bad.
It's the next worst thing to being on their side.
I'm sorry for all this.
For what Nick got you into.
It's okay.
We're immortal.
VALIS conferred that on us,
and they will on everyone, someday.
I don't feel too bad, though.
I feel like we put up a good fight.
Time's up.
Don't tell them how lousy their novels are.
Let them find out the hard way.
So that's how it all came down.
My friend Nicholas Brady
tried to save the world and failed.
And I found myself in this place:
the dark night of the soul.
Alone and forgotten.
Scribbling furtively on scraps of paper
that no one would ever get a chance to read.
So you used to be a writer?
Yeah.
In a way, I still am.
Were you a member of Aramchek?
No.
Know anything about it?
Some friends of mine belonged.
Dead?
Yeah.
So, what's Aramchek teach?
Are they really diehard communists?
No.
They think we shouldn't put our faith
in any human rulers.
That there's a vast intelligence above the stars that guides us,
that's interested in our welfare.
Sounds like a religious idea.
I always thought Aramchek was a revolutionary organization.
It's both. A subversive organization
guided by a supreme higher power.
They think our loyalty should be
to the values of that higher entity alone.
You believe that, too?
At first I didn't.
But now, maybe.
So this, uh, supreme being,
does it tell the Aramchek people what to do?
They called it VALIS.
It spoke to them in visions.
It will again, someday, I believe that.
You're a strange guy.
You ever hear its voice?
No.
But I wish I had.
I've still got my printing supplies hidden away.
I might be able to run off some literature
for you and your Aramchek friends.
You interested?
Yeah, very much.
First, I've gotta get back to my friend's wife and son,
make sure they're okay.
You think Aramchek would take me?
I need help, I can't get anywhere alone.
Sure. Maybe they have already.
I never heard any voices.
Your own voice might be the voice.
Hmm. How about that?
Nobody's ever said that to me before.
You think believing about a heavenly power
got them anywhere?
Not in this world.
I've got to tell you something maybe you don't want to hear.
I know you loved your friends and maybe they're happy spirits
somewhere up in the sky, but...
even if they are, that's not good enough.
They gave their lives for that belief.
But what I'm trying to say is,
it's gotta be something here first.
This is where the suffering is. This is where the injustice is.
This VALIS or God or whatever you want to call it
has to do something for us here.
Or what the fuck good is it?
Hey, what's this I hear about the Aramchek people
having this beautiful silver egg
placed in each of their foreheads?
That's what they believe.
My theory is it enters along the optic nerve
to the pineal gland by means of radiation
beamed down by the satellite.
The egg hatches when they die and incorporates them
into the vast living entity in the stratosphere.
I got a confession to make.
I know a little more about Aramchek than I admitted.
I used to be a preacher.
The beautiful silver egg
that guarantees immortality--
That's in the Bible, Phil.
Jesus speaks about it several times.
The real meaning was known only to his disciples.
But now it's coming back.
Tell me more, preacher.
I'm not a preacher anymore.
Religion is shit.
It's more honest work being a plumber.
You believe what my friends said is true
and yet you still say-- I still say
the work has to be done here on earth.
Where did Jesus do his work?
Where did he teach?
Hey, boss.
Can we take five? It's hot out here.
Look at those kids watching us.
♪ Want fun? ♪
♪ I know you need some... ♪
That's it.
- That's the song! - What?
That's the song!
Hey, it's cool. He's not going anywhere.
I'll keep an eye on him.
♪ Wasted ♪
♪ But kept in God's graces ♪
They must have got another record company to press it.
While Progressive was preparing their version,
other members of Aramchek
must have been working on the song, too.
They made it.
It's out.
Do you know what this means?
I never listen to that rock 'n' roll junk.
I used to have a big record collection,
mostly classical and jazz.
As far as I'm concerned,
that music's just for the kids.
Yeah.
That's right, for the kids.
The music's for them.
♪ ...and everybody's there ♪
♪ Even you will get... ♪
I guess it's gonna be up to them now.
While we waited to finish our sentences,
I continued to work on Nick's story,
which turned out to be my story, too.
I wanted to chronicle the origins
of that faint flicker of hope
that would someday burn out a cancerous regime,
the humble beginnings of a mass movement of young people
that would eventually change our country for the better.
Even if they found my manuscript and destroyed it,
I would still have been the first to bear witness.
♪ Everybody join the party ♪
I had faith that I would not be the last.
♪ We have no wings ♪
♪ We are not angels ♪
♪ Just flesh and blood ♪
♪ In skin and in bone ♪
♪ Born from the ruin ♪
♪ Like other mammals ♪
♪ Over the earth ♪
♪ We swarm and we roam ♪
♪ We walk around ♪
♪ We don't know why ♪
♪ Above the ground ♪
♪ Beneath the sky ♪
♪ And I declare that we are free ♪
♪ And we are equal in our liberty ♪
♪ I declare that we are free ♪
♪ And we are equal in our destiny ♪
♪ We are not slaves ♪
♪ Not to be tortured ♪
♪ To be abused ♪
♪ By the hand with the gun ♪
♪ We're all born free ♪
♪ We're all born equal ♪
♪ All through the night ♪
♪ And out in the sun ♪
♪ When we arrive, until we die ♪
♪ We are alive beneath the sky ♪
♪ And I declare that we are free ♪
♪ And we are equal in our dignity ♪
♪ I declare that we are free ♪
♪ And we are equal in our destiny ♪
♪ To be ♪
♪ Human ♪
♪ To be ♪
♪ Human ♪