(upbeat music playing)
(crackling)
(popping)
(buzzing)
(clinks)
(pings)
(groans)
Where is she?
Man: What the fuck do you care?
I do. I do care.
Is she alive?
You want to know where she is, Cruz?
You want to know how she is?
Then start talking. And I mean everything.
Every last fucking detail.
I can't see. I need a doctor.
You'll get one, Ned, as soon as you tell us the what-the-fuck and why-for.
I think he's faking. You don't just go blind.
I think the motherfucker's faking.
No, I've heard of this.
Head trauma.
You'll see again.
Just in time to look the judge in the eye when he sentences you.
Sentences me?
- For what? - Take your pick.
You left quite a trail, Ned.
- Five dead. - Five?
- Mmm. - Yeah, five.
Maybe I ought to see a--
See what, a lawyer? What the fuck you need a lawyer for?
- You're not under arrest, Ned. - So why the cuffs?
Why won't you tell me where she is? If she's all right?
'Cause I'm the law, Cruz.
I ask the questions, you answer them.
My client,
is he alive?
You really don't know?
(coughs)
Bullshit. He's playing us. I can fucking hear him thinking.
If we let him get away with this, we're gonna be here all night.
We don't want you to think, Cruz, all right?
We don't want you to ask questions. We just want you to respond.
Huh? Like a reflex. With the truth, compadre.
(chair clangs)
I'm a human lie detector.
Now if you don't tell me the truth I'll beat it out of you.
And I'll love every minute of it.
All right, all right.
It's all right. It's all right. It's all right.
I got you.
Okay.
Go ahead, entertain us.
You were there the night it started.
- Tell us anyway. - Yeah.
He's doing it again. You wily fucking dude.
Quit the t-t-t-thinking. Quit stalling.
Can we do this my way?
Yeah, okay, Poley. But tell Frizer to get downwind.
- His aftershave is killing me. - (laughs)
- Skeres. - Yeah?
Do you like Adam Nova?
- The actor? - Yeah.
He's all right.
I guess he makes an honest buck.
Ned: Try 20 million per picture
and 20 % chunk off the back end.
One of the highest paid movie stars in history
and I have to tell him that it's all over.
Shortly after Nova's very public feud
with a certain studio mogul,
the mogul pays some low-rent private eye to get the dirt on Nova
and leak it to a tabloid website.
Nova hires me to find out what dirt
that tabloid website is going to expose.
What's the 411 on Adam Nova, huh?
What do the flashbulb boys have on me this time?
I'm fucking terrified.
Ned's voice: We've all got kinks.
Contrary to what science tells us,
all DNA does not twist the same.
Here.
Well, Adam, are you gonna open it or what?
Ned's voice: Adam Nova's side kink
is an albino little person named Russell.
And the two of them have made a habit
of mixing Viagra with methamphetamines
and doing the double dolphin with a D-girl or a groupie
for 48 hours straight.
Fuck!
Russell: What is it, buddy?
- This is your fucking fault. - Let me fucking see.
Get away from me, you sick little fucking pervert.
Ned's voice: Nova is finished.
When this sort of thing gets anywhere near the internet,
it's moving at the speed of light.
I suppose you want to get paid.
Okay.
Wait here.
I'll be right back.
Adam! Wait a minute.
Let me see the fucking pictures.
Get off my ass.
Ned's voice: Yeah.
No matter what it is, I can fix this.
- Ned's voice: We've all got kinks. - Russell: Adam.
Ned's voice: And built-in closets where they hide.
There is always the fear that someday someone walks into your closet...
- Adam! - ...and switches on the light
and there in the corner is your kink.
(explosions)
The most terrible fear of all...
Whoa!
...is the fear of being exposed.
(siren wails)
You want to explain this?
Is that aftershave
or cologne?
- What? Aftershave. - Whoa.
- Fuck you. - (laughs)
Why is it when weird shit happens
it's always stuck to the bottom of your shoe?
So who's the crispy midget?
It's astrophysics, Frizer.
Astrophysics?
His name is Russell.
He's a white dwarf gone supernova.
Ned's voice: It's 2:00 AM.
I am sick of Los Angeles.
Sick of bearing witness to human tragedy.
I'm sick of Frizer's shitty aftershave.
I am too jacked up to go home.
So I go back to the office to hate myself.
Maybe it's my favorite jacket
ruined forever,
but all of a sudden
I don't like what I do for a living.
I should go home.
I should climb into the tub
and pull the water up over my head.
But all I can do is return to the scene of my own crime.
You are a private eye?
Yeah.
I used to be a private H.
Maybe one day I'll be a G-man.
I'm just working my way around the alphabet.
Blah blah blah.
I want you should find somebody.
You have a specific person in mind or will just anybody do?
My name is Anton.
They call me The Pro.
Okay, Anton, listen.
Today treated me like a dog
treats a fire hydrant, you know.
I'm closed for business. Really. Please.
Her name is Lexie.
Lexie Persimmon.
She is my girl.
And wherever she is I'm sure she's snug in bed
and dreaming about bungee-jumping off your forehead.
You know? I mean, it would be a shame to wake her.
To wake her up and--
(sighs) All right.
All right, what's the punchline here?
What is meaning of punchline?
This is your girlfriend?
Da.
She wrote to me.
I wrote her back every Wednesday for five whole years.
Wow.
You must have had a jumbo box of crayons.
But there is nothing,
no house at her return address.
Hold on, where did you do your time, Big 'Ton?
What were you in for?
I mean, no stamps, no postmarks.
The Federal Bureau of Prisons
requires that letters to prisoners are sent in unsealed envelopes.
See?
I've been doing life at Lompoc.
But they let me go.
- Let me out. - Really?
And now I've got to find her.
But she ain't dancing at Minkowski's no more.
(sighs)
So come on, we go to Minkowski's.
Maybe they will tell you something.
If I write you a letter
and sprinkle it with Chanel No. 5
would you believe me when I tell you that I am done for the day?
(scoffs)
(dance music playing)
This is it. Where she worked.
Ask him.
Don't bother, vato.
I told him already I've never seen her before.
I don't know who she is.
How many bouncers do you figure it would take?
Who the fuck are you?
Where is Minkowski?
Where do you go when you die?
And how is it working for you...
Ow, what the fuck, man?
...answering questions with questions?
Now do you want to bring that item up into plain sight and slowly?
Are you gonna let me go?
- There you go again. - Ow! Okay okay!
- Hey! - What the fuck?
Do you know Lexie Persimmon?
- Oh shit. - Ow!
- Hey, asshole. - (grunts)
(Taser rattling)
(woman screams)
Ned's voice: A right hook like a freight train coming around a corner.
And it all comes back to me.
A decade ago everyone had heard
of Anton "The Pro" Protopov.
Hey hey! Let's get out of here. Come on.
Ned's voice: He was 18-0 when he threw a fight.
Took a dive for the prize.
Excuse me. Oh shit.
Skinny Faddeev,
the boss of the Russian mob in Los Angeles.
- Don't be an asshole. - We know who Faddeev is.
Was.
Of course you do.
So you know he was grooming his own nephew
to be the next heavyweight contender.
And you know he offered Anton "The Pro" Protopov
$30 million upfront to take a fall in the third round
of his nephew's exhibition match.
But Anton "The Pro" was, well,
unclear on the concept.
- (bell rings) - (crowd cheering)
(grunting)
Ned's voice: Because if you crush your opponent's skull
and then go down for the count,
nobody buys it.
It's stupid.
Anton "The Pro"'s boxing career is over.
Hey hey hey, the car is over there.
You got pictures,
you got letters, find her.
You know, I'll do better without your help anyway.
Da.
Sometimes, I don't know,
- I just-- - React, right?
Yeah.
- How do I find you? - Nyet, I find you.
- (tires screech) - (horn honks)
Skinny Faddeev's nephew dies of a fractured skull
and a bleeding brain in less than a week.
I saw that fight.
I saw Anton "The Pro"
take that phony fucking dive.
Yeah, outside of a mirror,
I bet that's the dumbest thing you've ever seen.
(Skeres laughing)
What the fuck are you laughing at?
Frizer: Don't answer that.
Faddeev. What about Faddeev?
Right.
Skinny Faddeev ruins the career of an 18-0 heavyweight,
gets his own nephew killed
and loses a cool $30 million.
And one other thing.
He does it all without letting the mob in Las Vegas in on the fix.
But instead of taking the blame for such a colossal clusterfuck
and trying to make peace with the Vegas boys,
Skinny Faddeev decides
that he has a score to settle with Anton "The Pro" Protopov.
Three days later they find Skinny Faddeev
in the kitchen at Prostranstva.
And... (laughs) it's hard to tell the difference
between the former mobster and the borscht.
It is the same borscht mixed with Skinny Faddeev's blood
that you boy scouts find on Anton "The Pro" Protopov's dirty laundry
at the Roosevelt Hotel.
Man on radio: He's coming down the hall.
(beeps)
Freeze! Motherfucker!
- Put the bottle down. - Put your hands up.
- (bottle shatters) - You were there.
You were the arresting officers.
- Yeah, we were. - So what?
Don't get clever again.
What the fuck's all this got to do with finding a stripper?
What the fuck's a busted condom
got to do with your birth certificate, Poley?
It's just cause and effect.
By the way, he'll hurt you.
And Skeres and me, we'll just look the other way.
(tsks) Skeres and I.
Skeres and I will look the other way.
You think you're better than me, don't you, Cruz?
Nah, you and I,
we're just migrant workers
in the land of opportunity. Right, Frizer?
But I'm the one with the badge.
I'm gonna ask you one more time. Tell us everything you did,
everything you know. And tell us now.
Or else what? Poley's gonna hit me?
- Maybe I'll get my sight back. - Anything to help. Shit.
The faster you draw us a map, the faster you get out of here.
- See a doctor. - I don't care about that.
Just tell me she's all right. Tell me she is alive.
No.
You first.
All right.
Anton "The Pro" Protopov is sentenced to life in prison
for the murder of Skinny Faddeev.
Suddenly after serving five years of a life sentence
without parole he's back on the street,
a free man.
So? Somebody else confessed to the crime.
Yeah, a Vegas hit man already serving 300 years
for murder, rape, kidnapping and arson
claims he killed Faddeev
because Faddeev had no business trying to fix a Vegas fight game.
Now this convict claims
that Anton "The Pro" was framed with blood and borscht.
- So what? - So what?!
- Do you really believe that? - Poley: Enough with the mob shit.
Get to the girl.
No.
If you don't understand the mob angle,
then it won't make any sense when I get to the part about the diamonds.
What diamonds?
Where was I?
A seven-foot 300-lb lifer
is sprung from prison and all he's looking for
is his girl.
How romantic is that?
(man and woman moaning)
- And cut. - (bell rings)
Reset. Who's next?
So you the greaser that brought that ape to my club, huh?
Oh, you heard about that?
Yeah, I fucking heard about it. How'd you find me?
I looked under the rug.
See, you asking to get fucked up.
The fact that your entire legal name
is Puss was a surprise.
Then Main Coon Productions popped up
and here I am at Schrodinger's Warehouse
- watching an artist at work. - Man: You like that?
I ain't never seen this bitch.
Hey, fair enough.
So listen, Herman Minkowski died four years ago.
You bought the joint a year later.
Who sold it to you?
His widow. A stripper.
Actress. A tweeker.
All right, come for Christ's sakes!
- (moans) - What is the--
what is the plot?
Well, the guy she's fucking, he keeps changing
- into another guy. - Oh.
Point being, they're really all the same.
We just don't know where they disappear to.
It's like they go in, but they never come out.
Wow, beautiful. Beautiful.
- And cut. - (bell rings)
So Minkowski's widow, she got a name?
Yeah, Zooey.
Zooey Wigner.
You're making a cameo?
Hitchcock did.
Slate it.
Whoa.
Lights, camera,
action, motherfuckers.
Ned's voice: It takes about 30 minutes online
to find Zooey Wigner.
Frizer: Whoa whoa whoa, slow down.
You claim that was the last time you saw Puss?
Claim? Yeah.
Really? So it would surprise you to learn
that when Schrodinger's Warehouse was opened the next morning
Puss was still there?
Well, why would that surprise me?
It wouldn't if it were you or your client
that broke his fucking back.
That is one well-hung negro.
It would take a pretty big motherfucker to do that kind of damage
and hoist him up there. It might even take two.
What the fuck are you guys talking about?
Zooey Wigner. Tell us about Zooey Wigner.
Ned's voice: I don't find her at any of the talent agencies.
She isn't listed as the client of any manager.
I find her on a UCLA Medical Center website.
Zooey Wigner's meth addiction
has burned through the capital gains from her dead husband's strip club.
The only acting gig she can get...
- (grunting) - ...is to act like a patient
with a medical condition for interns to test
their diagnostic skills.
Fridays she's got autophagia,
a disorder causing people to eat themselves
on account of severe sexual anxiety.
It's a really fucked up job.
But, um,
it, you know, keeps me in rehab and...
a shithole basement apartment in El Segundo.
Yeah.
Just take a look at this.
You know, I--
she does kind of look like someone that worked at the club
a while ago. I don't know.
Do you remember her name?
No no no no.
That's not it. I just--
I don't really remember much from back then.
You know what? Take it.
You're an actress. A professional.
Your time is valuable, meaningful. Take it.
Meaningful?
I am pretending to eat myself.
Where's the meaning in that?
(sighs)
Thank you.
Wait.
Jewel maybe.
Orjust Julie.
- I think. - Hmm.
The uroboros is what Plato described
as the first living thing in the universe--
an immortal, perfect creature.
A serpent eating itself,
swallowing its own tail.
Everything has meaning.
Frizer: That's sweet. I'll bet you made her feel better.
So I suppose you never went to Zooey Wigner's apartment that night?
No. What is not going to surprise me this time?
Yesterday Zooey Wigner was found
with the left side of her head caved in
floating face up
in that shithole basement apartment.
Ned: Floating?
Skeres: Somebody must have left the water running in her tub.
But you didn't go there. And I suppose neither did Anton.
Ned: No.
I went to Kepler's.
(jazz music playing)
(applause)
(tapping)
So what's ticking, do-right man?
Who broke your doll?
I'm fine.
You're killing me with your sad pan.
I'm thinking of becoming a televangelist.
This business blows.
Like a Santa Ana wind, Daddy-o.
So what is it this time?
I am looking for someone who is supposed to exist
but nobody has seen.
- Oh, that again. - Yeah.
You're always looking for that. The ultimate missing person,
the theoretical other, the soulmate.
No, this isn't about me. Not what I want.
- Sure it is. - No, it's for a client.
It's a job.
- Okay. - I've picked up a tail.
It could be my client or it could be somebody else altogether.
So you think you're slated for crashville?
Nothing but skid marks and red asphalt.
Hmm. I dig it, mijo.
Just remember,
love looks not with the eyes
but with the mind.
Cupid is blind.
Yeah.
Frizer: What the fuck was that about?
Love.
Longing.
He knew what was going to happen.
He always knows.
Holy shit, he's doing it again.
Cruz, what the fuck are you talking about?
- Jazz. - Huh?
Sex.
Your heartbeat.
Your soul.
Skeres, man.
You're a married man, right?
- Divorced. - Hmm.
You still remember love, right?
I've got kids in college and alimony to pay.
I don't have time for a fucking love story.
I'm sorry.
(upbeat music playing)
Close your eyes...
and I will show you my secret self.
You can love me
without shame
or fear.
Your search ends with me.
I am the missing person
of your heart.
Your one
true love.
Ned's voice: Anton is right.
There's nothing at the Laveta Terrace return address.
Wherever she's writing from,
Lexie Persimmon is a stripper in hiding.
(clicks)
- (engine revs) - (tires squeal)
Excuse me.
Lady! Lady! Excuse me.
What you say, metchang?
Just a second. A second.
Until recently a letter has come to this vacant lot every week.
It would be forwarded by the mail carrier
to whoever submitted a change of address form.
Okay. So?
Uh...
I'm US postal employee. I don't take bribes.
No no no no. Look, don't take the money.
But please help me.
I need this address.
It's quite important.
General delivery, San Celeritas.
What was that?
San Celeritas, New Mexico.
Okay?
Thank you. I appreciate it. Thank you.
Ned's voice: I go back to the office to grab a couple of shirts
and some clean underwear.
That's when I realized that it isn't my client who is tailing me.
Anton "The Pro" has no reason to toss my office.
So someone must have been following him
when he first came to see me.
He had a duffle bag when he came in,
but not when he left.
So they either want to know what's in the bag
or they know about the letters
and want to get their hands on them.
Poley: Oh yeah? Why?
Ned's voice: I didn't know, Poley.
I hadn't quite read them all yet.
(whirring)
San Celeritas, New Mexico,
is a ghost town in the Land of Enchantment.
Wait a minute.
So Anton and this stripper, she's never even met him
- but she's writing him letters? - Yeah.
Poley: This is fucking stupid.
How long do we got to listen to this shit?
I don't know how to answer that
because space and time are relative, Poley.
Time slows down as you approach the speed of light.
Things get shorter, more dense.
The faster you travel the slower and even dumber you would appear.
Oh God, that's so funny.
Yeah well, it's just the laws of physics, Poley.
You know what you are?
You're a think-you're-smart guy.
I hate think-you're-smart guys.
I hate them more than think-you're-tough guys.
You're one of them too, aren't you? Huh?
Stay on track.
I know you're fucking with us.
Remember, I can read your mind.
(whispers) You lying fuck.
You couldn't read a picture book.
What? What did you say? What did you say? What?
- (snaps) - What did you say?
You know, Poley, I know-- I know you're gonna hit me.
But listen to this: you hurt me-- you hurt me too bad,
you will never find out where the diamonds are.
What diamonds?
Okay okay.
Okay.
I'm on my way to New Mexico
and I am moving very fast.
(whooshes)
Lexie Persimmon is as good as found.
She'd be in San Celeritas where her mail is forwarded.
I choose to drive.
Clear my head.
Think about quitting this shit business.
Settling down with something real.
But it's no good.
I keep wondering why Skinny Faddeev
would pay Anton $30 million upfront.
And where is the money now?
And why would a stripper
who is God's own wet dream
chose to be pen pals
with Darwin's worst nightmare?
I can't stop thinking about her,
the woman in the photograph.
I tell myself that I will find Lexie Persimmon.
If that really is her name.
Tell her that King Kong is looking for her.
And that would be the end of it.
But I don't believe it.
Not for a second.
(train whistle blows)
(whistle blows)
(jukebox playing)
Wow.
You totally don't belong here.
Um, where is here?
Around people like this.
Red auras-- material, physical;
blue-- reverence;
and mostly yellow--
intellectual.
You're gray.
You are so conflicted.
But you've also got this purple-red spiritual vibe.
It's extremely rare on this earth,
but there is something so dark about you.
(chuckles)
Yeah. Ahem.
Is there anything else to see around here?
(laughs) No.
I mean, not really. You know, it's an old air force base.
It was shut down in 1962.
We used to test the V2 rockets that we captured from the Germans here.
Then Kestral bought it.
- Simon Kestral? - Oh yeah.
Simon the-reclusive-gazillionaire- fucking-visionary Kestral.
And no, I've never actually seen him.
But he bought San Celeritas
and everything underneath it.
There's these tunnels.
Some people say they run all the way to Dulce
where there's supposed to be this, like, secret underground military base
filled with extraterrestrials.
But you don't believe that.
(laughs) No.
And you can't go down there anyway on account of the collider, so...
The collider?
The particle accelerator that Kestral's built.
Oh.
So, God, I'm sorry. Do you want breakfast?
Yeah yeah. Where can I find her?
I don't know, man.
But I knew you didn't belong here.
Hmm.
Do you recognize her?
- May I please? Ketchup? - Sure.
- Sorry. - Do you know this woman, sir?
Sat sri akal.
He's a Sikh.
- It means God is true and-- - True and timeless.
Yeah.
Okay, that's really cool that you know that.
So you own this place?
Oh, no no no. I just work here.
- Who is the postmaster? - The guy that owns the place.
Cook: Steak und eier sind fertig.
Order's up. I got to go.
- I-- sorry. - Hey hey.
When do you get off?
About 14 minutes after I start fucking.
(moaning)
What is all this?
These are the spiral trails
left by subatomic particles
moving through liquid hydrogen
in the presence of a magnetic field.
You know, I thought they looked familiar.
You gotta understand
everything behaves
like a particle and a wave
at the same time.
And until something is actually observed,
it exists in multiple states of reality simultaneously.
The moment you actually observe anything
anywhere in the universe you change it.
And if that thing is entangled in a relationship with anything else,
it changes too instantly.
(pants)
And that's faster than the speed of light.
But you know what?
Nothing's faster than the speed of light.
(chuckles)
It's real-life magic.
An atom...
is made up of electrons
and protons
and neutrons.
And protons and neutrons
are made up of quarks.
And the quarks are held together by gluons.
And the gluons are bosons and the bosons
are the elementary particles that carry the fundamental
forces of nature.
(moaning)
So you're here because?
Because in two days, just 300 feet underground,
two proton beams are going to collide with each other
at nearly the speed of light.
Nothing is faster.
(laughs)
And they might find it
right here in the middle of the desert.
Find what?
It.
The God particle.
Hmm.
And you're here because?
Because
I'm looking for someone who's supposed to exist
but nobody has seen.
In the middle of the desert.
Yeah.
Someone is following me,
but I don't know who.
Honest?
Yeah.
So tell me,
how does the mail service work here?
(laughs)
The mail service?
It doesn't.
People just use priority mail and email.
Regular mail just goes in a basket.
People come in and collect what's theirs.
Ned's voice: Then I tell her everything I know.
About the 260 letters.
About the lonely stripper and the washed-up boxer
who became pen pals.
About the beautiful woman who found a way
to share her deepest passions, her kinks,
without fear of consequences
because she chose to give her love to a man
who will never get out of prison.
(men yelling)
Until
all of a sudden...
(cell opens)
...he did.
And by that time
the boxer was,
well, he was in.
Bullshit.
- Bullshit. - I'm sorry, Poley.
Anton "The Pro" never expected to see the light of day.
That's why he told her where to find the diamonds.
- Yeah, the diamonds. - That's right.
And Lexie Persimmon never expected Anton "The Pro" Protopov
to come looking for her.
Okay, Ned.
This is where you need to be very very specific.
- We don't have a lot of time. - Why?
Because, smart-ass, it's going to be morning soon
and if you want our help explaining to the local law enforcement
- how everything went sideways-- - You're gonna need every detail.
Every last fucking detail, yes.
- (gun clicks) - Tick period.
Tock period.
(laughs)
Ned, why did you chose to share your investigation with this waitress?
I needed the user name and the password
for the cafe's account with Arbitrum lncorporated.
Every week Lexie Persimmon retrieved a letter
from the basket at Planck's Constant.
And she sent a letter in an unsealed envelope by priority mail.
Since Fay had never seen Lexie Persimmon,
she probably did it after hours.
The only witness to this weekly event
was the digital DVR camera
in the Arbitrum ATM.
Why was it so fucking important
to see her getting her mail?
Because
I was starting to wonder if Lexie Persimmon
even existed
outside of her letters.
Damn it.
Oh God.
(grunts)
Ned's voice: Simon Kestral is surfing stoned
off Papara Beach, Tahiti,
when he has an idea
that revolutionizes microchip technology.
At age 60, he's the 12th richest man in the world
and a total recluse.
Simon: Whoa.
(laughs) Fuck.
Shit, man.
- You know these guys are Sikhs. - Uh-huh.
They work for one of the largest security firms in the country.
We're talking government and private sector.
Why?
Because they view self-defense and protection of the defenseless
as duties of the highest honor.
But they're very fucking literal.
- You know? - Oh yeah.
I asked them to bring you to see me,
so they bring you to see me.
I'm Simon Kestral.
This is where I do not offer my hand
because according to the tabloids,
I'm such a freak I don't touch other people.
But that's a tissue of lies.
- (chuckles) - Oh, go ahead.
Look, I'm sorry you're here without your shirt
and you got a little boo-boo,
but what the fuck, Chuck?
(chuckles)
I'll make it up to you.
You can start right now.
Oh.
Nah.
You're in an eight-mile long circular tunnel
300 feet below San Celeritas.
And in 27 hours from now,
eight magnet assemblies storing 10 gigajoules of energy
will guide two proton beams fired simultaneously
in a semicircular path toward each other
at 99.999 % of the speed of light.
And they'll collide right in there.
Wow.
To recreate conditions last seen a trillionth of a second
after the Big Bang,
the beginning of the universe
13 billion years ago.
Questions?
Preguntas?
"What the fuck for?" comes to mind.
But I know you're going to tell me because you can't resist, right?
In 27 hours I'm gonna find something
that theoretically should exist but no one has ever seen.
Funny, that is exactly what I am looking for.
You know why?
Yes, because I am a private detective and I've been hired to.
Because I already know why we're here.
I knew it the first time I dropped acid.
Really? When was the last time?
We are sentient beings
evolving in an infinite universe.
And the infinite extrapolation of our evolution
is to become gods ourselves.
You dig?
Now along the way we must learn the secret
of His magic wand.
(scoffs)
Sure.
If everything there is, from all the heavenly bodies
in all the galaxies in the still expanding universe
to you and me was once smaller than a single atom,
where did all that mass and matter come from?
Don't tell me. The God particle.
- Fuckin' A. - Yes.
And at 7:00 AM tomorrow morning
with $5 billion worth of off-the-shelf technology,
I'm gonna answer the greatest question of all time.
Why do men have nipples?
You're a philistine.
The reason we are here is to find out how we are here.
What is the trick? What is the divine mechanism
that gives form and substance to all things?
Any other question is a waste of fucking time.
This is the only worthwhile pursuit
in the universe, bro.
I'm looking for a woman.
You're living your life in vain, hombre.
Coming to my town at the 1 1th hour
asking insignificant questions of a personal nature?
What's the point?
Love.
Oh yeah.
That got to him.
Ned's voice: Then back on the Dharma Security bus
with an invitation to dinner that night
at Kestral's house.
He told me there is somebody
that he wants me to meet.
I need sleep.
I need the user name and password to the ATM digital cam.
But I can't help it.
I've got a bag full of a beautiful woman's private thoughts,
her unselfconscious desires.
Lexie's voice: I was the one you dreamed of
when you were a boy becoming a man.
I was made for you and you alone.
We are entangled, you and I...
"In our own universe forever.
Lexie Persimmon."
Lexie: PS: I did as you asked.
They were exactly where you told me that they would be.
And they're safe back in the earth
where they belong.
"Because I have no use for material wealth.
I have you..."
For the rest of my life.
Where is she?
How the fuck did you get in here?
You find her? What are you doing here
- if she ain't here? - Shut the fuck up for a second.
- You are being followed. - I know that.
What is this place?
The land of fucking make-believe.
Stick around, they'll make you mayor.
What the fuck is this? What the fuck is this?
- You know what it is. - No.
What was exactly where you told her it would be?
- Ice. - What?
All the bling Skinny gave me.
What diamonds, Frizer?
Those diamonds.
The ones Skinny Faddeev gave Anton "The Pro"
- to throw that prize fight. - Wait, slow down.
No, don't-- don't-- don't play dumb, Poley.
You don't have to.
Anton thought he was never getting out of prison
and he was in love with his pen pal.
So he told his girl where to find them?
- That's right. - Where?
- In the closet.
- What closet? - In Anton's room
in the Roosevelt Hotel.
$30 million worth of conflict diamonds
- hidden in the ceiling fixture. - Radio: He's coming down the hall.
Frizer: Conflict diamonds?
Well, yeah.
You know, it always bothered me
that Faddeev paid Anton upfront
to throw the fight.
But if Faddeev thought he was dumping something
hard to sell on the open market like a couple handfuls
of known certified blood diamonds,
Anton wouldn't know the difference.
But Faddeev would still want them back.
Especially after Anton killed his nephew
and fucked up the fight, you know?
You think too much.
Compared to you, Poley, so does asparagus.
See, that's my favorite fucking vegetable.
- Oh fuck. - Not yet!
God damn it!
What is it about what the fuck we're doing here
that you don't understand?
You don't get to touch me.
I won't fucking touch you.
(Ned laughing)
Oh, violent. So violent.
- Diamonds, Ned. - (coughs) Yeah.
Where are the diamonds now?
"Back in the earth where they belong." What does that mean?
- She buried them? - Yeah yeah yeah.
I ain't done. I'm coming to that, all right?
But first
I have to explain
to Anton that I haven't found Lexie Persimmon.
Then I have to find out
if he knows
who was on my tail.
Maybe bratva.
Mafiya.
They follow me, now they follow you.
Why would the mob be following me?
I am thinking on that.
I am thinking on account of ice.
Diamonds?
Why?
Because I did kill Skinny Faddeev.
Okay.
- So you did it. - Da.
He want his jewels back after I fuck up.
I did not mean to kill his nephew.
I feel bad.
But Skinny,
he get in my face.
I did not mean to kill him neither.
But I did.
Sometimes, I don't know,
- I just-- - React.
I know.
When other convict confess of killing Skinny Faddeev,
I am confused
because I know I am one who did it.
But now I'm thinking mob,
they want me out of prison
so I can lead them to diamonds.
Anton, you're a genius.
But now I have to protect my Lexie.
Well, I've got to find her first.
She-- she has diamonds.
And you,
if you find her
all you do is lead them to her.
Ned's voice: It's late when I get the call from Fay
and I access the Arbitrum ATM website.
I start scanning through the ATMs DVR
looking for a pattern, someone retrieving a letter
and sending one by priority mail.
Lexie Persimmon stopped writing eight weeks ago.
So only the first four weeks
of the 12 available on the server were relevant.
Any minute the Dharma Security van
is going to pull up and drag me to dinner.
And then I see it.
All of a sudden my search is over.
I'd found who I was looking for.
Simon: Detective, I'd like you to meet my wife.
Julie,
meet Ned Cruz,
a real life private eye.
This anything but righteous man
has dedicated his time on earth to inserting himself
into other people's unexamined lives.
- Hello. - Hello.
He's a remora--
a suckerfish that attaches itself
to the underbelly of a big fat city
and feeds off of its leftovers and parasites.
He's from LA,
the home of your distinguished stage career.
He's brought an artifact from your past
all the way to San Celeritas.
I'm gonna shame him.
It'll be fun.
Are you a suckerfish, Mr. Cruz?
No.
Then why would you let my husband say such ugly things?
They're just words.
Are words important to you?
- When they hurt. - Simon: Ouch.
That's fucking profound.
Detach yourself, Detective.
Dr. Niels Geck:
PhD at MIT, age 13;
Rhodes scholar, age 16;
Professor, Department of Theoretical Physics
University of Geneva, age 20;
Chief physicist of the San Celeritas particle collider.
He's blessed with a neurological disorder.
He sees words and numbers
as shapes and colors.
It's called synesthesia.
It's like being born on acid.
So he has a very rich inner life.
I envy him above all others.
He's gonna teach you a lesson.
Niels, let's eat.
Okay. Right.
Niels: Once upon a time we believed we lived in a clockwork universe
governed by Newtonian mechanics, cause and effect.
Newton was elegant, yes.
But then the uncertainty principle came along and changed everything.
An electron can be two different things
and in two different places at the same time.
So cause and effect is ridiculous. It's ludicrous.
You cannot predict with any certainty
what will happen next.
So tell me about the God particle.
Okay.
When the universe was created--
Thank you.
--there was an equal amount of matter and antimatter.
They should have annihilated each other leaving nothing but empty space
'cause there's just no explaining for how the universe acquired mass.
There's no explanation at all
for how we're here in a physical sense.
Unless-- unless there is some
special mysterious particle
that actually gives mass to, well, everything.
And in some sense such a particle must exist,
but we've never seen it.
It's like love.
We know it exists. We can feel it,
but we've never seen it.
So, uh, what happens tomorrow?
We'll recreate the conditions that existed
one trillionth of a second after the Big Bang.
Protons will head toward collisions
at nearly the speed of light.
Their quarks and their gluons
will release enough energy to create the Higgs boson particle.
The God particle.
It's unstable. It's fragile.
And it will last for less than one millionth
of a billionth of a billionth of a second
before it decays.
But we'll see it for the first time in history.
Questions?
Yeah.
The woman who is serving us,
she's Hindu.
She's dressed in white. She's mourning.
Um, why?
Her name's Prabha
and her husband died down there.
There have been a lot of accidents.
Whoa. He was an engineer.
And he made a mistake.
There have been a lot of mistakes.
A lot? Compared to what?
He was trapped.
Pinned under the weight of something much larger than he was.
It crushed his ribcage.
Yeah, broke his heart.
It was his own damn fault.
- His fault? - You bet.
Because the only errors are human errors.
He made the wrong choice.
Unfortunately he didn't live to regret it.
Unlike my oh-so-lonely wife
who made some very bad choices a long time ago.
Please.
And that's why you're here, isn't it?
Let me guess. Somebody's looking for her.
Maybe it's just me.
So what is the worst that can happen
with a couple of billion worth of off-the-shelf technology
bolted together by imperfect human beings
hecho en Nuevo Mexico?
A black hole.
- What was that? - A black hole.
Theoretically, collisions with this much energy
could create a black hole that could swallow the earth.
Or-- or create strangelets
that could initiate runaway fusion
and turn the planet into a shrunken lump of strange matter.
So we've got nothing to worry about.
You have arrived here
at the penultimate moment
of the ultimate spiritual pursuit.
Because God is the Wizard of Oz.
He is the man behind the curtain.
And tomorrow,
I'm yanking back that curtain.
So I--
I should take my business and roll away
like a little ball of shit in a prenatal position
because whatever concerns her
is inconsequential compared to whatever you think is going to happen
when you flip that switch tomorrow, right?
The point, you insignificant asshole,
is that showing up here
seeking to stir up shit about me
is cosmically fucked up.
You are fucked up. You are the guy at the magic show.
The one who can't leave not knowing how the trick is done.
And all you're gonna do is just ruin it for the rest of us.
I think you two need to go away.
Yeah.
Do your business.
Talk. Fuck. Whatever.
By 7:00 AM tomorrow I'm gonna be onstage
standing next to God
and looking right up his sleeve.
So, um,
what do you think
is gonna happen at 7:00 AM tomorrow?
There are hidden variables
so it's difficult to predict the outcome.
But I think,
one way or another at 7:00 AM tomorrow,
Simon Kestral will be close to God.
Ned's voice: So Geck goes home.
And Kestral goes down to the collider
to do whatever the fuck he has to do
with only eight hours to go before show time.
- And Julie and I... - (thunder crashes)
we go for a walk.
(Julie laughs)
So did you really
come here for me?
Yes.
- Yes. - (laughs)
- I'm what you're looking for? - Yeah.
How do you know?
Well, you are exactly what I am looking for.
How do I know you're not like
every man I've ever met?
You know, you look at me
and you see what you want to see.
I've got to stop defining myself
by how men see me.
Hmm.
You've got father issues, right?
Yeah.
I stripped for him too.
And your husband?
You know, it's more of the same.
I'm nothing but a metaphor to him.
Like a trophy. A symbol of what he's looking for.
What we're all looking for.
- What? - You know.
You just-- you don't know that you know.
Mmm.
We're standing above it right now.
Oh, the collider.
(laughs) The place where his beams collide.
He's insane. It's all gonna blow up in his face.
You know, we've got a bigger problem here.
Kiss me.
No. Not yet.
Listen, he's here.
Who?
Anton "The Pro." He's here.
- Protopov. - What?
(sighs) Oh my God.
All right, listen. I can help you.
But you've got to come clean.
So tell me, was it random? Did you do it because you were lonely?
Did you write to him because you read in the paper about a boxer
who was going to spend the rest of his life in prison
who might be worth $30 million?
Wait. I don't know what you're talking about.
$30 million is a lot of lifestyle to which you have become accustomed.
Stop, okay? You're confusing me.
Where did you get this?
I buried all of these.
Buried them?
My headshots, everything from back then right here.
Listen, you're not making any sense.
Why the accomplice?
Why Geck?
No no, don't deny it. I have seen him.
He was recorded at the cafe.
Why did you use Niels Geck
to pick up your mail and send your letters?
- What letters? - Okay.
Wait, let me see.
Who is Lexie Persimmon?
(gunshots)
(grunts)
Jesus.
Lexie!
Shit.
- (knife rings) - Who--
(screams)
What the hell is that?
You really don't know?
Come on. You've got to run.
- Wait. - Go there. Go there now.
Now, move! Damn it.
Anton, wait. Listen to me.
It's not her. She's not Lexie Persimmon.
You cannot stop me. You want to try, tough guy?
- Shoot me. - I can't.
You're my client.
- (Julie screams) - Lexie!
Lexie!
Come on.
Such a cliché. Come on.
- (Julie groans) - Come on.
Ow!
It's unlocked.
What the fuck is going on?
(panting) Where are we?
- This is Niels's house. - Geck?
No, hold on. Who would know you danced at Minkowski's?
- Who would have your photograph? - He would.
- Geck went to a strip club? - Yeah.
He brought my husband one night.
Niels introduced us.
- (door thuds) - Oh shit.
- Anton: Lexie! - (pounding)
Who is that?
A guy who thinks you are the woman of his dreams.
What?
- All right, let's go. - Lexie!
Julie: Niels?
- Frizer: Lex parsimoniae? - Ned: Mm-hmm.
Frizer: What does it mean?
Well, it's the Latin expression
for a philosophical concept known as Occam's Razor.
In language that Poley can understand,
it means
all things being equal,
the simplest solution is the best.
Now in this case it just means
that a lonely physicist
starts a five-year long paper sex relationship
with a convicted killer doing life at Lompoc.
You know, it's safe.
Perfect.
The killer gets love and the physicist gets treated
like the woman he pretends to be
late at night
in the privacy of his home,
his kink hidden and with no fear of being exposed.
It means
that Niels Geck
is lex parsimoniae.
Lexie Persimmon.
So you wrote the letters, right?
Julie: What letters?
You-- you read them?
Yeah.
(laughing)
I don't understand.
Ned: Oh my God.
So you knew he was coming for you. You had to know.
His last letter, he must have told you he was getting out, right?
Yes of course. I calculated the wave function.
(banging)
The likelihood that I'd be where he was looking for me.
Wait a minute. What?
Did I do something wrong?
Where are the diamonds?
- (crashing) - Anton: Lexie!
Shut that door.
Oh my God. Oh my God.
You, come in here. Come in here.
- What about-- - Don't make a sound.
Oh my God.
All right, Anton, stop.
Enough!
Hello, Anton.
(panting)
Ned's voice: Niels Geck calculated the probability
that Anton Protopov would find him.
Lexie?
Ned's voice: And based on his result,
he bought himself a gun.
Yes.
You do not look like self.
I am.
You are not my Lexie.
You are guy.
I'm both at the same time.
Could you please?
Put the gun down, please?
You can love me.
What?
- No! Where is she? - I'm here.
- No! - I'm here.
Anton, wait. Wait. (grunts)
Anton, no. Stop.
Nyet nyet nyet!
I love you.
Man: Hey hey hey!
Man #2: Drop the gun. Down, now.
- (gunshots) - (body thuds)
And that's it.
That's all I remember.
Till I came to and I can't see a fucking thing
and you guys are here
and I don't know who is alive or dead.
All I want--
all I need to know is
is Julie all right?
And that's it. That's it.
Good. Good boy.
Just one more thing.
Who was it?
Who crashed the party?
Well, that's simple.
The guys who had been shadowing Anton
then tailing me.
The guys in the Lincoln Town Car.
I can describe them.
One is a fucking sociopath
who never finished first grade
and nobody likes.
Another is a broken-down family man
with nothing-- nothing to show for his life.
And the third guy
wears brown shoes and a black suit
because he can't tell the difference between right and wrong.
(laughs)
How could you tell who it was? Thought you couldn't fucking see.
That's right, Poley. But you know what?
I didn't need to see to recognize
Frizer's fucking aftershave.
Yeah. (laughs)
Yeah.
No one-- nobody knew the story
of Anton "The Pro" Protopov
better than you guys.
The Three Stooges.
Working homicide and organized crime for so long
that you're no better than the bad guys.
- Whoa, the bad guys. - The bad guys.
You know, Anton was right.
He was sprung from prison by the mob
with a phony confession
from a three-time loser
so that he could lead them to $30 million
worth of Skinny Faddeev's stupidity.
And you guys-- you guys are either working for the mob
or you stiff-armed them, pulled rank, called this one for you own,
but it was you guys-- you all along.
All along.
(laughs)
It's funny.
Anton didn't give a shit about the diamonds.
But you guys sure as hell did.
Oh yeah.
Poley, go ahead.
(groaning)
Poley: Get up.
- Frizer: Get him up, Poley. - You get him up.
Skeres: We're out of fucking time here.
Poley: He'll get him up.
Frizer: It's a dead fucking end.
He doesn't know where the diamonds are.
- Poley killed the only one who does. - Shut the fuck up.
- No, fuck you, Poley! - What did you say?
We've got a huge fucking mess on our hands thanks to you.
And no way to clean it up. What the fuck are we doing here?
Wait wait wait.
Who killed Puss?
- Frizer: Your client did. - Why?
I guess he was following up on your so-called investigation
and didn't like the African-American's personality.
What about Zooey Wigner?
I mean, Anton couldn't have known where she lived.
You assholes.
You followed me
to the medical center.
I leave, you go in,
flash the badges, find out who I was there to see
and then-- and then-- and then Poley--
Poley tails her home, tries to milk her,
and loses his little temper.
Poley, you did not.
- Yeah. - Oh shit, Poley.
- Poley: Whatever. - You cannot clean this up.
You know, there are too many loose ends.
It's messy. It's messy.
He's right. Know what we got here? We got total chaos here.
This was a stupid idea. And you. You.
You are a fucking sociopath.
(laughs) You will be sickly sorry
if you make a move on me, you gristly piece of shit.
- Sorry? Wow. - What?
- Huh? - What?
- Huh? - Huh?
Really?
Stop them, Frizer, before they kill again.
- I haven't killed anybody. - Not yet.
All right, here is how it's gonna be.
Anton gets out of prison and partners with you
to find this fucking Persimmon bitch who's got his diamonds.
Typically you leave behind a path of death and destruction.
It's morning now.
At any minute somebody's gonna find the towelhead security guard
with a broken neck over at Kestral's place.
Geck doesn't show up for work,
they're gonna come looking for him.
They're gonna find the end of your trail.
Everybody dead, a real fucking bloodbath.
What is-- what is-- what is that? Ow.
The gun that brought down Anton "The Pro."
The one they find with your fingerprints on it
next to a corpse.
You can't-- you can't use that thing--
Unregistered.
See, I like my aftershave.
I like the color of my shoes.
And I like that at the end of the day I beat you, Cruz.
(sighs)
I might not have the diamonds,
but you're gonna take the fall for my efforts.
Oh, and Poley is going to use
Geck's little .22 to kill your girlfriend.
Wait a minute. What?
Yeah, she's been here all along, smart guy.
Too bad you won't be able to see what's gonna happen to her.
- Poley, wait. - Ooh!
- Frizer, no. No! - No? No?
Skeres, you have a better idea?
Want to confess your part in this
and go to prison?
Frankly,
I don't think your partners will let you.
- Oh shit. - (gun clicks)
I know where the diamonds are.
Julie: Don't tell them. They're gonna kill us anyway.
(groans)
Where are they?
- Make me a deal. - No.
Then go and fuck yourself.
All right.
(groaning)
All right, all right, all right.
All right, I know-- I know where they are.
I know where they are, but I can't see.
Julie knows too but she doesn't know that she knows.
With my help she can lead you right to them.
But if you kill her nobody will be able
to show you where Geck buried them.
It's your call, man. It's your call.
Open the trunk.
Poley!
If you keep the car running
maybe we could get a little air back here.
(starts engine)
Dr. Geck is not answering his telephone.
Geck the geek. Fuck him.
Detector hot?
All systems are go, sir.
Tick-tock.
Go ahead.
What the fuck do I look like?
You're an asshole, Frizer.
You've always been an asshole.
If they held a contest for the world's biggest asshole,
you'd come in second.
Yeah? Why not first?
'Cause you're an asshole.
Skeres: Three years to retirement.
How the fuck did I end up here?
How? Who gives a shit? Keep digging.
I give a shit, simple motherfucker.
Maybe I want to take a minute and consider the metaphysics
of a really bad fucking decision.
Yeah, now's a great time for that.
- I fucking knew it. - Go!
Maybe it's not how, you know?
Maybe it's why. Why?
Why the fuck did I let you talk me into this?
How about $30 million worth of why?
Oh fuck. Oh fuck.
(grunts)
Get the gun! Get the gun! Get the gun!
- Oh shit. - (gun clicks)
What the fuck is this?
What the fuck is that?
Frizer: What's he doing?
(gunshot)
Shit!
- Get down! - (gunshots)
Stay down!
Oh shit!
- Are you okay? - No. I dropped the gun.
(tires squealing)
Let's see what we're made of.
- (rumbling) - Oh fuck.
- (rumbling) - (Julie gasps)
Oh God.
Shit.
- We have to turn. - I can't! I can't!
- Can't we go any faster? - Fucking thing.
Damn it.
(Julie gasps) It's coming right at us.
Oh shit.
Oh Christ.
(metal fragments clunking)
Are you all right?
Why not?
(loud thud)
Fuck it.
Julie: So were you really blind that whole time?
Well...
So you just kind of smash things together and see what comes out?
(chuckles) Más o menos. Yes, more or less.
I mean, Newtonian mechanics is so 17th century.
Cause and effect are totally bogus.
And reality-- I mean, reality is just a wave function.
It's all about likelihood. Nothing is certain.
I mean, you solved everything
and you got the girl.
And I got a gecko.
And $30 million worth of diamonds,
that we should really give back, you know,
to like Angola or Liberia
or the lvory Coast or the Republic of the Congo
or something.
- I don't know. - (laughs)
But man, I really like this car.
(women laughing)
(instrumental music playing)